#it’s been way to long sense I’ve last written something

[daydreamshenanigans]

Preamble: Oh my lord I finished writing this… Umm. I’m just gonna drop this here and see if anyone is interested. Could be interesting, could be fun, who knows. Enjoy!!!

The Great Consumption

Eons ago, in the Space Between Worlds, creatures or rather, Gods, came into being. Each was formed slowly, tucked away in the vastness of the spaces between. Monsters of fire and ash, creatures of earth and wind, beings of the water and abyss, each born with a different Dominion over these aspects of the universe. These Gods inhabited this Great Expanse, living in relative, tentative peace with one another, observing the worlds that speckled their home with limited interactions with the beings of the worlds, unregulated but within reason. This peace, however, was not made to last.

No one recalls the true name of the beast responsible, but most know him as the Lord of Discontent, with Dominion over all who were unhappy with their lot in life. This God, he was unhappy with the chaotic nature of the universe, unhappy with the lack of true unity between the gods of the Spaces Between. “We need a leader,” declared the Lord to his fellow Gods, his cry echoing across the Expanse, “We need order to our realm! I wish to be leader!” Such an idea had never been proposed to the Gods, they had never needed a leader before, so why have one now. So most ignored the Lord. However the Lord instead saw this as submission.

The Lord paraded around the Expanse, demanding tribute to the King of the Gods. Many humored the Lord, not wishing to cause trouble. However, eventually, there came one who denied this so called “Kings” request. “I hold Dominion over the Embers of Revolution. I shall bow to no king,” spoke the brave god, denying the Lord of Discontent his tribute. The Lord was enraged, how dare this lowly God disrespect him in such a way. And so in an act that reshaped the Space Between Worlds forever, The Lord struck out at the God as they turned their back, slicing them down and snuffing out that light of their embers. In an act of pure blood thirst and wickedness, The Lord then brought the body of the lifeless God to its giant maw, and consumed it.

In this act of consumption, The Lord made a great discovery, the absorption of a Dominion and the power that came with it, albeit lesser than his own born Dominion. And he wanted more.

So began the first true war in the Space Between, the Great Consumption. The Lord of Discontent slaughtered and consumed all he could in the early days, consuming indiscriminately, thirsting for more and more power. Eventually, in a bid to stop the Lord, other Gods began to consume weaker Gods, hoping to gain the power to defeat this False King. One by one Gods were felled and consumed, Lesser Dominions collected on mass. Soon, pacts were forged between the weak, Dominions shared and alliances formed and the war raged on.

Slowly, five factions formed, each with their own order and leader.

There was, of course, The Lord of Discontent, who gained his following through terror and subjugation. Those who submitted early on, of course, backed this terror to the Great Expanse.

There was a God of Blazing Glory who gathered those who wished to face The Lord of Discontent to his thrall, his desire to have vengeance for the fallen God of the Embers of Revolution.

There was a God of Rumbling Earth, who raged against The Lord, wishing for the days of peace to return, her heart thundering with fury at such a disruption to the order of the Space Between.

Then there was the God of Weeping Wind, who cried in sorrow for the death of their fellow Gods, wishing to protect what remained their fellow Gods from the Great Consumption.

Finally, there was the God of the Shifting Tide. She, to, mourned the loss of her fellow Gods. However, more so, she grieved the loss of the worlds that gave the Space Between its name for they were innocent in this affair.

The war raged on many years still, till the Gods of Blazing Glory, Rumbling Earth, Weeping Wind, and Shifting Tide all came together and finally battled The Lord of Discontent head on, and after centuries of war, they slayed him. However, knowing he had power to great to be given to any of the Gods, the quartet each worked to seal the corpse of the tyrant, none wishing for his power to ever be taken by another.

To this day, the husk lays in its prison, sealed away, still waiting for the day that its power is taken.

Authors Note: Have some lore for your troubles. Enjoy this little blurb I’ve put together. Feel free to ask questions about it, I’ve likely got answers.

[mejaemin]

nonchalant - jeon wonwoo

wc: 0.9k

summary: clingy wonu /ᐠ - ˕ -マ

warnings: streamer!wonu, writer!reader, fluff, not proofread !!!

an: i can think of so many ways to make a pt.2 to this… will i? nope!

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the letters on your laptop’s keyboard are surely to start fading any time soon, but it’s worth it. especially right now. there’s yet to be a single time where you’ve felt this much inspiration in your entire career, so you refuse to let this go to waste. your eyes flicker to the notebook sitting next to you, information on the paper translating in your mind and being typed out into coherent sentences on the document.

you’re really proud of what you’ve written so far. you had your boyfriend read your unorganized thoughts you had set out for the plot and what not, and he thinks it’s good too. once your brain felt ready to start writing the real thing, your fingers were flying. you slipped your headphones on, essentially blocking out the entire world as you worked. you started when it was still light out, and you’ve only gotten up to use the bathroom, really. it’s dark now, and although he’s not working quite as hard, you can still sense your boyfriend moving around the house, making commentary as he pre records gaming content.

he’s left you alone so far. he’s not the type to nag you too much about taking care of yourself, especially when he’s already learnt his lesson about interrupting you when you have one of these moments of inspiration. not to mention he has times like this too, even if it was for something like a long term livestream. still, he treats you how he would want to be treated in the same situation. by that he means undisturbed… with the occasional interruption, of course. he likes to have his game time but if he isn’t filming he still wants to be with you.

your phone is on do not disturb, keeping wonwoo’s obnoxious friends and their instagram reel notifications from disturbing your work, so when a message notification dings through your headphones you know who it is.

won🖤: Are you almost done yet?

won🖤: I’ve finished recording.

you: no, sorry love :( i still have some left in me.

you: just a little more, okay?

won🖤: Just a little more. I try not to be that guy, but you really should stop soon. Eat something

you reacted with 👍

setting your phone down, you crack your knuckles with a sigh. you were reaching the end of your inspiration spark, so you really wanted to rush to get whatever you could in. it’s extremely rare that this happens, and you couldn’t stress it enough. you’ve got deadlines to meet, and for this to happen to you was literally perfect. you’re basically set, and might even be able to take a day off tomorrow.

you’ve gotten back onto your groove, putting the music on high while you work. you’re typing word after word, paragraph after paragraph flawlessly. everything you’ve been mapping out for weeks is finally coming to fruition, and it’s doing so perfectly. you’re so zoned in that you don’t notice when wonwoo comes in, only taking note of his presence when the weight shifts on the bed and his head lands on your shoulder.

you pause, pulling the headphones off your head. “do you need something?” you ask, hand instinctively coming to brush through his hair.

he looks up at you, and you’re sure he doesn’t notice the way he’s pouting. it’s rare that he’d be like that voluntarily. “how far are you? you’re almost done?”

“mm, i don’t think so.. sorry. i really need to make the most of this or else i’ll never get this finished.” you kiss the top of his head, and as soon as you put your hand back towards the keyboard he grabs it.

“you’ve been sitting here all day.”

“yeah, i noticed. but i’ll do just a little more, ‘kay?” you kiss his crown and return to work.

you finish the second to last plot point you had mapped out, and now you’re just revising what you done so far. even by your own standards you’ve done enough, and since wonwoo is indirectly begging you to spend time with him (in his own way) by clinging to your side, you suppose you can stop for now. it hasn’t even been that long and you can see him looking from his phone to you every three seconds. it’s cute really, how he’s trying so hard to be nonchalant about it when he wants to spend time with you so bad. every time he wants your attention, he sort of hovers around you and stares at you until you give it to him. he’ll never say it out loud, but he’s definitely going to be obvious about it in other ways.

you shut your computer and set it on the night stand, turning towards him fully. the corners of wonwoo’s mouth twitch as he tried to hold back his smile, but you know he’s happy that he’s won.

“you’re done now? are you gonna go back to work, or are you really done?” he asks, sitting up and readjusting his glasses.

you giggle at his cuteness, kissing his cheek. “yes, nonu. you’ve got my full, undivided attention now, ‘kay?”

he’s already up before you are, rambling about how excited he is to spend the rest of the night with you, even if it’s already late. he’s walking into the kitchen to make ramen for you, talking about eating it together while watching something, and then stopping to ponder about what to do after. you trail behind him, a smile on your face. your nonchalant, black cat boyfriend who uses very few words will throw it all out the window if it means getting your attention and keeping it for a good moment.

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[amordixon]

𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐆𝐎, 𝐈’𝐌 𝐆𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐎 ┆ 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐱𝐨𝐧

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; daryl relives the tough choices that were made when he decided to leave the commonwealth.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; established relationship, takes place both in france and at the commonwealth. crying. making out. insinuated sex. just a whole lotta angst honestly. 4.2k words .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; this is the longest fic i’ve written in forever so enjoy ᡣ𐭩

"have you ever been in love?" sylvie’s question takes daryl by surprise, his attention momentarily pulled away from the road ahead of them as he turns to look at her in the passenger seat. her french accent is thick, though her words and facial expression are soft - like her.

there’s a noticeable shift in his demeanour, his heart panging in his chest as his thoughts drift toward you back home, back at the commonwealth, where an ocean now stood between you and him. there’s a sad look in his eyes, a mixture of pain and guilt and it’s clear that something deeply rooted within him had happened between the two of you.

“why do you look so sad?” sylvie observes him gently. she can sense the weight of his thoughts, the memories he’s carrying. she wants to press him on it, to further dissect the man that had fallen into their lives, but decides to wait for him to speak instead.

daryl doesn’t answer immediately, his gaze fixated on the open stretch of road ahead as his hands tightly grip the wheel. sylvie’s question was simple, straightforward, but for him, it was anything but. the weight of his thoughts bear down on his chest, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions he had spent months trying to bury deep down.

“s’complicated.” his voice is low and gravelly when he does finally answer, though laced with hurt as he clenches his jaw tightly.

“complicated?” sylvie repeats, her voice gentle, yet betraying her curiosity. she’s not pushing, she just wants to understand - understand why that was the word he had chosen to describe whatever it was that was clearly plaguing him.

“mhm…” he grumbles, a slight nod of his head as he refocuses on the road once more.

sylvie senses the deep hurt and longing that lies beneath his stoic exterior, “because you… still love them?”

“... sometimes love ain’t enough.” his voice is harsher than he intends, but he leaves it all the same. he could still hear whispers of your laughter ringing in his ears, and how sweet you sounded when saying his name. if he could turn back time and stop himself from ever leaving the commonwealth - from ever leaving you - he would.

his mind flashes back to the last night he had spent with you, the feeling of you in his arms, soft and close. how you looked at him with those warm eyes full of adoration, full of care, the way no one else had ever looked at him before and he wished he could have held onto that moment a little bit longer, a little bit tighter.

you’re sitting on the floor of your room, laughing, your legs stretched out alongside daryl’s as you both lean against your bed. the night had settled over the commonwealth and though exhaustion tugged at both of your minds, you didn’t want to retire for the night just yet, not when you knew it was your last night together.

“i’m still pissed at you,” you say, though there’s no real anger in your tone, just lighthearted playfulness as your eyes gleam in the soft light of the room. you had a habit of looking at him as if he were the only person in the world - which to you, he was.

he nods, huffing out a quiet laugh, “i know. i know ya are.”

his eyes fall to your body, admiring softly, the way your shirt hangs a little off your left shoulder, showing a hint of your collarbone, and his fingers slowly reach to trail down the exposed skin. you notice the way his eyes roam your body, and for a moment, the mood of playful banter shifts into something warmer, something heavier. the air feels a little more charged between you both, the feeling of wanting, not knowing when you’ll get the chance to hold and touch one another like this again.

daryl tries to ignore the way his stomach twists at the memory, the way his mind drifts back to the last time he had touched you. he knows he shouldn’t but the memories are too vivid, he can practically hear your soft gasps in his ear, hear the way you say his name, all breathy and full of love. he can’t help but let himself get carried away in the distant memories of you and the love you shared together.

you bite your lower lip a little, drawing his eyes towards your mouth, and he feels a pang in his chest at the action. you see the way his jaw tenses, how he looks at you with his steely blue eyes, and know he’s fighting against his thoughts, trying to suppress the desire that was clearly building inside of him.

you feel that familiar twist of desire in your own stomach, that familiar need for him building with every passing second. you shift towards him slightly, your leg brushing against his, “...what am i going to do without you?”

he’s struggling, holding back, but he can’t resist the way you move towards him, the way your thigh brushes against his. he brings a calloused hand up to cup your face, thumb tracing over the skin of your cheek. his eyes flicker to your lips again, his heart beating faster, the pull towards you becoming stronger. the desire to hold you, to keep you close, to never let you go, is overwhelming.

he swallows thickly, “yer gonna be fine. always are.”

there’s a pause as you shake your head, taking in a deep breath as tears dare to prick at your eyes, “not this time.”

the feeling of helplessness washes over him as he sees the emotions play across your face. his hand moved to your jaw, cupping it gently before tipping it slightly so you’re looking directly at him. your eyes are watery, pained, and it kills him to see it, to know he’s the cause of it. his thumb brushed over your cheek, wiping away a lone tear that had slipped down it.

“don’t cry,” he tries to reassure you, voice gruff and low, but somewhat softer for him.

“how can i not when you’re leaving me…” you exhale, eyes almost fully glazed over as your mind spirals with the dread of what comes in the morning.

he doesn’t know how to make you feel better, how to soothe away that fear that’s plaguing you. daryl has always had a tendency for keeping people at arms-length, to not let them get too close in case they leave, in case they get hurt. but with you it’s always been different. you’re different. you’ve seen deeper into him than anyone else ever has and despite that, you stayed.

you chose him.

your eyes flitter across his features, as though to be committing every small detail to memory. every crease, every freckle or mole, even the grey hairs that were poking through the scruff on his chin, you wanted to remember it all as though it was the last time you’d ever see him.

he can tell you’re scared, unsure, trying to memorise him, like you believe that this might be the last time you see him. he can feel the shakiness of your body, the warm tears that fall from your eyes, your soft forehead pressed against his. there was nothing more that he wanted than to be able to tell you where he was going and how long he was going to be gone, but most importantly that he would be back.

you move your hands up to rest around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible, your lips only grazing his before you eventually close the space between you. it’s soft and gentle, the way your lips move together, your tongues lightly dancing, but the need for one another quickly takes over. transpiring into a longing of want and need to be even closer. his hands grip your hips, holding onto you tightly like he’d never let you go.

“i love you,” you breathe the words as you try to regain your breath but all daryl can see is the mixture of love and sadness in your eyes.

it wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, or the second or third, you made sure to say it to him as much as he would allow you to, but no matter what, it always felt like the first time. he buried his head in the crook of your neck, lips grazing over the sensitive skin there as he breathes you in. he can feel the way your body trembles, the way you cling to him, afraid to let him go.

“i love you too,” he mumbles against your skin, the words barely audible, like a secret you both already knew but didn’t want to admit aloud.

“who was it not enough for — you or them?” sylvie’s question rips him from his thoughts, hitting him deep in the chest once again.

daryl exhales heavily, his fingers tensing around the steering wheel once more. “i don’t… me,” he answers honestly, his voice almost a whisper. the words hang in the air, heavy and loaded with the weight of his decision.

sylvie sees the turmoil and decides to change the topic slightly, deciding to approach the matter from a different angle, “will you tell me about them?” her voice is low and soothing, drawing him slowly out of his dark thoughts.

he wants to scream ‘no’, to shut it down immediately, knowing that the act of talking about you, even though it would be painful, felt like the only way to keep you close. he wasn’t one for sharing, for letting others inside his mind, but the idea of telling someone about you, not knowing if he’d get another opportunity to do so… it hurt more than the idea of reliving the memories he had shared with you and the impact you had made in his life.

he’s quiet for a moment, swallowing the growing lump in his throat before he opens his mouth, “she was… she was beautiful. caring. strong. stubborn, real stubborn.”

he lets out a soft chuckle at the thought of the numerous times you’d made his life a living hell over the years, yet he’d secretly loved the way you’d never take his bullshit and would always put him in his place. sylvie can’t help but admire the way he lights up as he speaks about you, the tension in his shoulders and jaw easing at her gentle prodding.

“she had this… way about her, ya know?” his voice is still gruff as he speaks, yet there’s a softness to his tone now, an undeniable fondness. “she could hit a target in the bullseye without battin’ an eye but then trip up on her own feet a few seconds later.” he continues, a hint of awe in his voice now as he describes you, like he’s talking about some mythical being. he finds himself once again getting lost in his thought of you, the corner of his mouth lifting in a sad smile.

“she knew how to make me feel…safe. usually it was my job to make others feel that way, to be the protector, but not her, she always wanted to take care of me. like she’s got this hold on me that i can’t shake, and i don’t… i don’t know if i ever will…”

“you still love her… that’s why.” sylvie points out after seeing the way he had spoken about you. it was the first time he had indulged anyone in a conversation about himself, about his life before france, about you. you were clearly important to him, otherwise he wouldn’t have let himself get so caught away in talking about you, and he can’t help but feel surprised at himself for doing so.

“ain’t that simple,” he responds, the sharpness returning to his voice as his walls go up once more because he knows that he can’t deny the truth. he did still love you, of course he did, that was never in question. but he also can’t ignore the complex factors that had torn the two of you apart, or that it was entirely his fault.

sylvie pauses for a moment, before saying, “perhaps, but perhaps it also shouldn’t have to be so hard.”

daryl lets out a bitter scoff, his jaw clenching tighter and he turns his attention back to the road ahead. he doesn’t respond to her this time, his mind preoccupied with the tangled mess of his emotions. he knows that things should be simple. hell, they had been simple at one point. but life wasn’t a fairytale, especially in the world you now lived in and it was his job to keep you safe, whether you liked it or not.

you watch as daryl pulls his backpack tighter around his shoulders and continues walking as if you hadn’t said a word, as if you hadn’t just told him you wanted to go with him, wherever it was that he may end up. “i said i want to come with you,” you repeat louder now, your words echoing back to you as your heart thrums so loudly in your chest that you were sure it was going to explode.

daryl stills at your voice now, his shoulders tensing at your words. he had heard you the first time but hoped that you would drop it after seeing him continue on his way, but, of course, things could never be that simple. he can practically feel the desperation in your voice, the pleading tone making his heart ache, but he stubbornly resists the urge to turn around and look at you.

“...no.” he responds without any hesitation, any trepidation, his voice firm as he allows no room for you to argue.

“no?” your voice is a soft murmur as you move to stand in front of him. your gaze full of confusion and hurt, your heart still racing in your chest. “what do you mean ‘no’?”

his blue eyes finally meet yours, the usual warm depth within them now cold and guarded. he stands there, jaw clenched, looking down at you with a mixture of stoicism and stubbornness as he fights off the urge to reach out and smooth away the hurt he sees in your eyes.

“i mean ‘no’,” he repeats, his mind set. “ya ain’t comin’ with me.”

your heart sinks for the second time, the pain and confusion swirling inside you like a storm. you swallow hard, your eyes stinging with the onset of tears once more. “that’s it? just ‘no’? you’re not even going to consider it?”

“there ain’t nothin’ to consider,” his jaw clenched once more and he sighs heavily, as if the question pained him just as much as it did you. he brushes a hand through his hair, tucking it behind his ear as he bites down on his lower lip. “i can’t have ya gettin’ hurt.” his voice is quieter this time.

you stand there frozen as you watch daryl continue on to where his motorcycle was parked by the front gates, unable to comprehend the way in which he was acting. as if you hadn’t just spent the entire night making yourself sick over whether or not you wanted to go with him or stay behind at the commonwealth, all while he was sound asleep beside you.

daryl’s heart is heavy as he walks away from you, every step feeling like he was dragging anvils behind him, but he forces himself to remain stern, to stay strong in his decision. he was doing this for you. he had to.

you follow behind him, watching as he swings himself onto the bike and settles into the leather seat, “i know how to handle myself, daryl – you of all people know that.”

“that ain’t the point,” he snaps back.

“then what is the point?” you throw your arms up and let them fall back to your sides, your emotions beginning to get the better of you once again, but daryl wasn’t having any of it. “daryl, please… i want to come with you,” your voice cracks and you take a deep breath in trying to keep yourself in check but only failing.

the sound of your voice cracking breaks him, the pain in your words physically stabbing at his heart. but he couldn’t back down now, not after already making up his mind. he’d never be able to live with himself if something were to happen to you and all because he agreed to let you go with him. he had already almost lost you a handful of times, he didn’t know how much luck he had left and he sure as hell wasn’t ready to find out.

he looks away from you, avoiding your eyes and shakes his head, “no.”

you reach forward to place your hands on top of his as they lay on the handlebars of the motorcycle, “i can’t… i can’t be away from you. not again. not even if that means giving up our home and everything else we were building here. i want to be with you… please.” you take in a shaky breath as silent tears begin to roll down your cheeks.

daryl’s hands clench beneath yours, the gesture betraying his internal struggle. he can feel the weight of your words, the weight of your pain and your love for him. his heart aches, conflicting with the resolute part of him that was telling him to just start the motorcycle and ride off before he eventually gave in.

he lets out a heavy sigh, his expression conflicted and pained as he finally turns to look back up at you. seeing the tears streaming down your face breaks something in him.

“i’m… i’m doin’ this for your own good,” he says, the words sounding hollow even to his ears.

you shake your head, clamping your teeth down on your bottom lip in an attempt to stop the sobs that were clawing their way up your throat, but there’s no use, “that’s bullshit.”

he flinches at your words, his defences crumbling under the weight of your accusation. he knows you know him too well, that you can see through his excuses and facades. he takes in your tear-stricken face, the sight like a dagger to his heart. he can see the desperation in your eyes, and it’s tearing him apart.

his own eyes start to sting, his nose burning with the beginnings of tears. he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. no words could explain how he was feeling in that moment, the conflicting thoughts and emotions raging within his mind and his heart.

he can’t take it anymore, the sight of you crying, the weight of his own guilt, the pain of his decision. he lets go of the handlebars, his hands coming up to cup your face, his fingers wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks. he looks deep into your eyes, torn between loving you and trying to protect you.

he presses a kiss to your forehead. it’s soft and gentle, full of worry, but painful. he just wanted to do the right thing by you. he didn’t want you out there with him, he needed you here. he needed you safe. you would be safe with the others, and he knew carol would look after you.

he holds the kiss against your forehead a moment longer, his eyes squeezed shut as he tries to memorise the feel of your skin against his lips. when he pulls away, his eyes slowly open, looking at you with a thousand words left unsaid. he wants so desperately to just hold you, to keep you safe in his arms forever. but he can’t.

“so that’s it then?” you ask, your voice so small through your tears.

“m’sorry…” is all he manages, the words tasting like poison, but his mind and heart refuse to budge. “i just… i have to do this alone.”

“you really expect me to just go about my days knowing that you’re out there all alone? constantly worrying if you’re okay, or if you’re even alive?” your throat was burning with emotion, your eyes stinging as you try to maintain it. the thought alone of something happening to daryl was making you feel sick.

each of your words feels like a knife to his heart and he feels like a fool for being the one to cause you this much pain. he wants to tell you that he’ll be fine, that he’s strong and can keep himself safe… but the truth of the matter was, he had no idea what was going to happen the second he stepped outside the gates of the commonwealth, or if he would be okay. he was all too well aware of the fact that the thought of leaving you behind was as terrifying to him as it was to you.

“i’ll be fine,” he says anyway, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your cheeks. he wanted to give you some sort of reassurance, no matter how small or how little he actually believed it. he just needed you to understand that this was something he needed to do and that he knew how to look after himself well enough, but you see right through him.

“we both know you can’t promise that,” you whisper as you pull out of his touch. “not really.”

daryl can feel the distance between the two of you growing already with each second that passes, his heart aching and his head pounding all at once. your words only add to the guilt and the pain that he’s already feeling, knowing that he can’t give you the real reassurance you need. he swallows hard, trying to keep his own emotions in check.

deep down he knows he can’t promise something, that at that moment, he wasn’t even sure of himself. he could see the questions, the realisation, the hurt swirling in your eyes as you stared up at him, silently pleading for him to contradict you, to tell you that it wasn’t true.

“i can try,” is all he can muster and your heart feels like it’s going to collapse in on itself. you knew daryl better than anyone, better than he knew himself, and you knew he was being sincere, but that didn’t stop the doubts and insecurities you had about him leaving. nothing would ever make you feel better about it.

“please…” he suddenly grabs your hands again, holding them tight in his own, not wanting to lose the feeling of your touch, of your skin against his. he could already feel it slipping away – feel you slipping away – and the distance growing further between the two of you. “please… just… trust me,” he practically pleads, his voice soft and his gaze filled with helplessness.

you look down at your hands wrapped in daryl’s, the touch feeling so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. it just serves as a painful reminder that he really was leaving. your own features are shaky as all you can do is accept his words with a nod, another tear rolling down your cheek as you press your forehead to his.

his eyes flutter shut as you rest your head against his, each tear that you shed causing the ache in his chest to grow even more. he can feel the resignation in your gestures, the way you submit to his decision, even if deep down you didn’t agree with it.

he savoured the feelings of you against him, eyes closed, his hands holding onto yours as if he were clutching on to the last shred of you that he had. he wanted to keep you here, in this bubble, forever if he could. and in that moment, he swears to himself that no matter how long he’s gone for, or how far away he ends up, he was going to come back for you, no matter how hard or how much time it took.

and he was going to keep that promise.

[asterafroditis]

Hello!! What do you think about a scenario with a freshman reader who is dating a third-year student and is worried about their relationship after the guy graduates from college?For example with Lilia, Leona, Vil, Jade (would like to read something longer rather than a headcanon, I realize it's hard to write with everyone, so pick whichever of the characters listed you like best).

𐔌 . ⋮ seasons ahead .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Lilia & Vil x gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 1350 words

ᝰ.ᐟ 2nd Person POV, no pronouns used, light angst, hurt/comfort, ooc(?)

When I first saw this ask I legitimately wanted to write Vil BUTT I barely have made any Lilia content so I wanted to challenge myself with this haha TT but there is also a Vil version since he rots in my head! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

You should have known from the beginning—should’ve known that dating someone like Lilia meant chasing after someone with centuries of stories behind his smile. You knew from the moment he first offered you his gloved hand with a mischievous wink and an old-fashioned compliment. Knew the moment he called you “darling” with just enough sincerity to make your heart skip.

But you were foolish in that soft, hopeful way only freshmen can be. You let yourself fall.

And he had never pushed you away.

Even now, as the end of the year creeps in like fog rolling off the Briar Valley cliffs, he lets you stay close.

You sit with him in a quiet corner of the Diasomnia dorm lounge, wrapped in the faint scent of worn leather and old paper. The fireplace crackles softly. Lilia is reading—of course he is. Some ancient, yellow-paged novel written in a language you barely recognize. His fingers trace the faded ink like he’s greeting an old friend. You’re curled beside him, your open notebook long forgotten, your pen idle between your fingers.

It’s too peaceful. Too quiet for the words burning in your chest.

“I heard you’re really leaving,” you say at last. “Not just graduating. Leaving Night Raven College… for good.”

He closes the book with a soft sound. Smiles gently. “Mmm. The birds must leave the nest sometime, mustn’t they?”

“It’s not funny.”

“No,” he says. “It isn’t.”

There’s a pause. You stare at the flickering hearthlight and feel your chest tighten. You’ve known this was coming since the day Malleus cracked under centuries of pressure and pain, and everything changed.

But knowing doesn’t make it easier.

You hate how kind Lilia is in moments like this. How easy he makes it to love him. He’s warm in that way starlight is—beautiful, constant, and impossibly far away. You want to drag him closer. Keep him here, where the world still makes sense. But he belongs to time. And time never waits.

“You’re going to live for centuries more,” you murmur. “And I’m just… me.”

He tilts his head. His hair catches the firelight like dusk on water. “You’re you. And that has always been enough.”

You bite your lip, fighting the burn in your eyes. “Will you forget me?”

His laugh is soft. Almost sorrowful. “I’ve forgotten many things over the years… names, places, entire winters. But the ones who matter? They leave echoes. Imprints.” His gaze lowers to you, quiet and fond. “You’re not a passing breeze. You’ve already left your mark.”

You want to believe him. You do. But doubt still coils in your stomach like a vine.

“I don’t want to just be an echo,” you whisper.

He places his hand over yours—small and delicate, but steady. “Then don’t be. Write me letters. Send me photos. Meet me again someday, when the winds are kind. We’ll find each other. We always do.”

You don’t know what to say. You want to scream, cry, beg him to stay. But instead, you lean into his shoulder. And he leans into you right back, like he always has.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” you admit quietly.

“Then don’t,” he says. “Say goodnight. Say ‘until next time.’ Say ‘I’ll see you in spring.’ The world is big, yes, but paths cross in the strangest places. Even time bends a little for love.”

You close your eyes, memorizing the sound of his voice.

And when he kisses your forehead, it isn’t a farewell. It’s a promise. That he might not be yours forever—but he is yours now. And that has to be enough.

─────────────────────────

It started the way all fairytales do—not with a grand gesture, but something quiet. A single moment that shifted the light.

Vil had gently brushed your hair out of your eyes one day after your alchemy class, his fingers lingering longer than necessary, his gaze soft and searching. You were still new to NRC then—navigating the chaos of the cafeteria, dodging overly ambitious spellwork in the halls, and learning, day by day, how not to gawk whenever Vil Schoenheit walked past like a vision of poise carved in gold.

You hadn’t known what to expect when he asked you to meet him for tea later that week. You still didn’t, even a year into dating.

Now, the two of you sit hand in hand beneath the hush of the Botanical Gardens after hours, a space Vil had “borrowed” with a few elegant words to the staff. The greenhouse glows with soft firefly light and the ghost-pale shimmer of moonlight through misted glass. It’s beautiful—of course it is. Every moment with him feels curated, intentional. But this time, you can sense the quiet weight beneath the beauty.

Graduation looms like a shadow at the edge of the light.

He’s leaving soon. You won’t.

And the thought claws at your chest like brambles.

Vil senses it before you speak. Of course he does. He’s always been attuned to your silences the way a director reads stillness on a stage.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet tonight,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “That usually means something’s troubling you.”

You shift, the question burning at the tip of your tongue. “It’s just… I’ve been thinking. After graduation… where will you be?”

Vil’s expression remains still, poised. But you feel the smallest shift—like a mirror catching light at a different angle. His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt, just enough to ground.

“You mean: what will happen to us?”

You nod, biting your lip.

He doesn’t look away. “I’ll be busy, yes. My schedule will change. My career is—and will remain—demanding. But do you truly believe I’d forget you?” His voice is soft but sharp, like velvet hiding a blade. “Do you think I’d treat this—treat you—like some seasonal wardrobe I can store away when it’s no longer in fashion?”

Your breath catches. “No. I just… I’m scared.”

It feels so small to admit, but it’s the truth. You’re young, still tethered to the rhythms of campus life. He’s already halfway into the world beyond, with press interviews, film scripts, magazine covers bearing his name.

Vil lifts a hand and gently touches your chin, tilting your face up to meet his. His eyes are serious, edged with something vulnerable—something real beneath the perfect exterior.

“I won’t lie to you. I never have,” he says. “This won’t be easy. There will be nights I’m in another country. Weeks when we can’t speak beyond a message or two. There will be pressure—rumors, distance, uncertainty. But I have never committed to something I didn’t intend to see through.”

His words steady something trembling in your chest.

“We’re not naïve,” he continues. “We know time. We know ambition. But if you trust me—truly trust me—and if you still want me, even when I’m not here, then I will be waiting. No role, no red carpet, no flashing light will ever hold the same weight as your voice saying my name.”

You stare at him, overwhelmed.

“I do trust you,” you whisper. “I’m just scared to lose you to a world that’s so much bigger than me.”

Vil exhales slowly, and when he smiles, it’s not the show-stopping, camera-ready one. It’s something smaller. Truer.

“Then let’s not waste this season worrying about ones we haven’t stepped into yet,” he says, bringing your hand to his lips. “Let’s make these days worth remembering. Let me become a memory so bright, even time won’t dull it.”

And somehow, in that moment, you believe him.

Because with Vil, even endings feel like carefully chosen scenes in a story far from finished.

[numinously-yours]

Choose a letter: A message from your future spouse

In this week's reading, I have letters from your future spouses <3 Each reading will also have a love song attached along with a specific line from that song that stuck out. Choose a group and happy reading!

Like your reading? Reblog and tag your group!

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Letter 1

Song: True by Spandau Ballet Lyric: "This is the sound of my soul"

Cards for your letter: ace of swords reversed, three of pentacles reversed, queen of cups reversed, and the two of cups

Text: Hi Darling, I’m sure that you’re wondering where I am & when I’ll finally show myself. Right now, I am working to make sure I will be the best version of myself when we finally come together. Past relationships haven’t worked out. I know I get to meet you eventually, but the journey’s been a bit exhausting. I bet you can relate. As I take this time to work on myself, I feel my soul being pulled closer and closer to yours. I know this is a test of our faith. The universe is asking us to following our souls’ purposes. Among all the signs, synchronicities, prayers, and intuition, if we always come back to the needs of our souls then we’ll always be on the path to each other. I don’t know when we’ll meet (I hope it’s soon!) but I know that when we do, this will all make sense. With love, Your future spouse

Letter 2

Song: You're the inspiration by Chicago Lyric: "You know our love was meant to be; the kind of love that lasts forever, and I want you here with me"

Cards: The World reversed, Justice reversed, The Lovers, ten of wands reversed, seven of pentacles reversed, The Fool

Text:

Dear X, The main purpose of my letter is to let you know that our relationship will be unlike anything either of us has experienced before. Where there used to be passive aggression, there will be healthy communication. Where there used to be blame, there will be accountability. Where there used to be burdens we carried alone, there will be an extra set of hands to distribute the weight. In my own life, I am finally gaining the closure I need for the experiences that have brought me down. I am feeling rejuvenated and optimistic. I know for a fact that all the bullshit was to show us we don’t deserve anything less than the feelings above. We will take this upcoming adventure together and I think you’ll be convinced, too. I can’t wait to show each other what a healthy relationship is supposed to look like. Let’s find each other soon, okay?? I love you! X

Letter 3:

Song: I swear by All-4-one Lyric: "I'll build your dreams with these two hands"

Cards: Six of wands, page of cups reversed, four of pentacles reversed, The Hierophant, The Empress

Text:

Dear future spouse, This is the fourth draft I’ve written of this note to you. The first three were on paper but with all the scratching out I’ve been doing, I decided to skip the paper and find a keyboard with a backspace button. I want to get my words just right. Up until recently, what mattered most in my world was fancy gadgets and making enough money to buy them. But then something changed and all I can think of is wanting to create a life of substance, not a life of things. My viewpoint of the world has been opened, and with that, comes longing for connection and sharing the beauty of life with someone else. I am ready for that feeling people talk about when they speak on love. I am ready to show someone how important their mere existence is. Now more than ever, I truly believe we only get this one life to live, and it shouldn’t be wasted on the material. I hope that when we meet you will know it’s me. My yearning to connect with you is strong and I would be surprised if my energy hasn’t made it your way yet. If it hasn’t, that’s okay because I won’t stop trying. I finally know what is most important in this lifetime and I won’t forget it any time soon. Sincerely yours, Your future spouse

Letter 4:

Song: Meant to be by Bebe Rexha (Acoustic version) Lyric: "We got nothing but time. As long as you're right here next to me, everything's gonna be alright"

Cards: The Lovers, The World, Seven of Cups, The Chariot, Queen of Swords

Text:

Hey you! Our meeting is right around the corner, I can FEEL it. I’ve been working hard on manifesting the life I want and you are an integral piece of that. You emit an energy that I can’t get enough of. I can just tell how smart, true, and incredible you are. When we get together, there will be a sense of fulfillment that neither of us knew was missing. So many opportunities are on their way to us! I know you share the same value for relationships as I do. I want you to know that I will always work my hardest to make you aware of how special you are. It is my promise that I will be honest, open, and respectful to you. I am SO ready to make these manifestations come to fruition. See you soon! - Your future spouse

[777bae]

PERFECT IMPERFECTIONS LUKE HUGHES

Summary :: You finally open up to Luke about a long-standing insecurity of yours

Warnings :: Insecurities (dark circles)

Word count :: 1.4k

The evening has a quiet, gentle rhythm to it, a calmness that feels almost sacred. The kind of quiet that can only come from being comfortably wrapped in the presence of someone you love, knowing that the world outside can wait for a while. You and Luke are on the couch, the soft light from the lamp beside you casting a warm, golden glow across the room. The glow dances across his face as he scrolls through his phone, the familiar sounds of his movements grounding you in the present. You’ve always loved these quiet moments with him—when nothing else matters but the fact that you’re together.

But tonight, something’s different. The sense of peace you usually feel when you’re near him is heavy, weighed down by an insecurity that’s been gnawing at you all day. You can feel it pressing on your chest, slowly tightening with every passing second, even though you’re trying your best to push it away.

You’ve always had these dark circles. As long as you can remember, they’ve been there. When you were a little girl, you’d stare at your reflection and wonder why your face looked so tired, even when you hadn’t done anything to earn that exhaustion. As you grew older, it became something you learned to live with—something you tried to hide, tried to mask. No matter how much sleep you got, no matter how many “miracle” creams or makeup techniques you tried, those shadows under your eyes were always there. They became a constant companion, something you never quite got used to, but had learned to accept.

And yet tonight, they feel more pronounced than ever. Maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s built up over the last few weeks—too many late nights and early mornings, trying to balance everything, trying to keep it all together. Maybe it’s the fact that you’ve been staring at your face in the mirror all day, looking for signs of something different, something better, and all you’ve found is the same tired reflection you’ve always seen. Your eyes look heavy. You look drained. Like you’ve been carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it’s written all over your face.

As you sit beside Luke, curled up on the couch, you find yourself unconsciously shrinking away from him, trying to hide the way you feel inside. You pull your knees closer to your chest, folding in on yourself as if to protect the parts of you that are exposed—the parts of you you wish you could change. You try to make yourself small, hoping he won’t notice. But Luke, being Luke, notices everything. He always does.

“Hey,” he says gently, his voice a soft anchor in the quiet of the room. He looks over at you, his gaze immediately softening as he notices your change in posture. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet.”

You try to offer him a smile, but it’s thin, insincere. It feels like a mask that doesn’t quite fit. You don’t want to burden him with your feelings, don’t want to sound trivial, but the words escape your lips before you can stop them.

“I’m just… I don’t know. I’ve been thinking a lot about my dark circles,” you admit, the words hanging in the air between you, heavier than you’d intended. “I’ve always had them, you know? No matter how much sleep I get, no matter how much I try to fix them, they’re always there. And today, I just… I don’t know. I feel like they’re all anyone would notice when they look at me.”

The vulnerability in your voice surprises even you, and you immediately feel a wave of embarrassment, as though admitting this out loud somehow makes it worse. You brace yourself for the usual reassurance—the empty kind of comfort people often give when they want to make you feel better but don’t truly understand what’s going on inside. You’re so used to hearing it, to hearing people say, “It doesn’t matter to me,” or “You’re beautiful no matter what.” But you’ve always wondered if they mean it. If they can really see you, see the parts of you that feel broken, and still love you just the same.

Luke doesn’t say anything right away. His gaze softens, though, and you can feel his presence shift. It’s almost as if he’s studying you, trying to understand the quiet storm brewing behind your eyes. He moves a little closer, his body turning toward yours. His hand reaches out, fingers brushing over your arm, sending a ripple of warmth through you. But it’s not just the touch. It’s the way he looks at you—as if he’s trying to read every part of you, to reach the parts of you that you don’t even know how to express.

“Let me see you,” he says softly, his voice low but firm with the kind of gentleness you’ve always known him for. He doesn’t push you, doesn’t force you to explain yourself, but his words are a quiet invitation. An invitation to be seen, to be understood. “Look at me, babe.”

You hesitate, unsure if you’re ready to meet his gaze, unsure if you’re ready to let him see all the insecurity swirling inside of you. But when you do, when your eyes finally meet his, something shifts. There’s no judgment there. Only love. Only understanding.

“Those dark circles, the ones you think make you less beautiful? They don’t make you less, anything,” he says, his voice unwavering. “They’ve always been a part of you. And honestly?” He smiles gently, the kind of smile that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve always loved them. I think they’re beautiful.”

You blink, your breath catching in your throat as you try to process what he’s just said. “What?” you ask, your voice a mixture of disbelief and surprise. “But they—”

“They’re a part of you,” Luke interrupts, his hands now gently cradling your face, his thumb sweeping softly across your cheek, where those dark circles sit. “They tell a story. A story of you—of everything you do, everything you are. They show your strength, your effort, your heart. They’re not flaws. They’re part of what makes you, you. And I think that’s beautiful.”

His words are simple, but they sink deep. So deep, in fact, that you feel a tear slip down your cheek before you even realize it. You hadn’t even known you were holding it in, but the floodgates open, and suddenly, you’re overwhelmed by the wave of emotion rushing through you. You’ve never heard someone speak to you this way before, never felt so seen in your entire life. It’s as if the parts of you that you’ve always hated, the parts of you you’ve always tried to hide, are suddenly being accepted without question, without hesitation.

Luke’s hands move to cup your face more securely, his eyes never leaving yours, and his forehead presses against yours, as if grounding you in his love, in his belief in you.

“I love you. And I don’t just love you despite those dark circles. I love you because of them. They’re a part of your story, and they make you, you. And there is nothing in this world that I would change about you.”

The warmth in his words wraps around you like a blanket, melting away the harsh edges of your insecurities, leaving behind only peace. You close your eyes for a moment, taking in his words, letting them sink in. When you open them again, you feel lighter, freer, like a weight has been lifted from your chest.

Luke leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead in the softest kiss, the kind of kiss that speaks volumes without uttering a single word. You let out a breath, a shaky laugh escaping your lips as you finally feel the truth of his words sink deep into your bones.

And in that moment, with his hands gently cradling your face, his heart open and steady, you realize something profound. The dark circles under your eyes, the tiredness that’s always been with you—they no longer feel like something to hide. They’re not a sign of something broken or wrong. They’re a sign of your resilience, your humanity, your capacity to love and work and care.

And Luke loves them. He loves all of you, dark circles and all. And for the first time, you can finally say that you love them, too.

[rafecswhore]

divine - tattoo artist rafe cameron x f! reader

the parlor was quiet when you walked in, save for the faint buzz of a machine in one of the back rooms. it wasn’t your first time here—far from it. over the last couple of months, you’d been stopping by more often than you cared to admit.

and every single time, it was for him.

“hey, trouble,” rafe greeted, leaning against the counter with his usual easy confidence. his dark shirt clung to him, tattoos peeking out from the sleeves and collar. he tilted his head, a sly smile spreading on his face. “finally ready for some ink, or are you just here to keep teasing me?”

“i told you i was thinking about it,” you shot back, though the heat rising to your cheeks gave you away.

“well, if you’re thinking about it today, i’ve got time.” he tapped the counter, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours. “what’s it gonna be?”

you hesitated for a second before pulling out your phone and showing him the design. it was simple yet striking—divine, written in elegant script. his eyes flicked to yours, holding your gaze just a moment too long.

“chest piece?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

you nodded. “middle of my chest.”

his smirk softened into something more serious, his gaze dipping briefly to where you gestured. “all right,” he said, turning to grab his clipboard. “let’s do it.”

the room was smaller and more intimate than the open studio area. his station was spotless, his tools lined up neatly, but your nerves had nothing to do with the tattoo. the way rafe’s presence filled the room made it hard to focus on anything else.

“you’re gonna have to lower this,” he said, gesturing to the neckline of your top as he prepared the stencil. “just enough so i can get the placement right.”

your hands trembled slightly as you tugged the fabric down, revealing the center of your chest. his eyes flickered to the newly exposed skin, and though he said nothing, you didn’t miss the way his jaw tightened. his fingers brushed against your sternum as he positioned the stencil, his touch sending a spark down your spine.

“this okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost intimate.

“yeah,” you managed, your breath catching as his fingertips lingered a little longer than necessary.

when the machine buzzed to life, you instinctively tensed. rafe leaned in closer, his free hand resting lightly on your ribs to steady you. “relax,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “i’ve got you.”

the first touch of the needle made you gasp softly, and his thumb immediately began tracing slow, reassuring circles against your side. “you’re doing good,” he said, his voice dropping a notch. “just breathe.”

as he worked, the air between you grew heavier. his hand moved occasionally, his touch grazing the sensitive skin just above your chest. every time his fingers brushed against you, your breath hitched, and you swore you saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“you’re gonna make me lose focus if you keep making noises like that,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear. your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t deny the heat pooling in your stomach.

“sorry,” you whispered, though the smirk on his face told you he wasn’t really complaining.

he leaned in closer to adjust his angle, and the scent of his cologne filled your senses. his chest was almost brushing against you now, and you were acutely aware of the way his breath ghosted over your skin. “you okay?” he asked, his voice rougher now.

“yeah,” you replied, but your voice betrayed you, shaky and uneven.

his smirk deepened, but he said nothing as he went back to work. every once in a while, his fingers would linger, his touch firm yet gentle, and it was impossible to ignore the way your body reacted to him. the tension between you was electric, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could keep your composure.

when he finally pulled back, he wiped the area clean and handed you a mirror. the tattoo was flawless, the script perfectly centered and delicate.

“it’s beautiful,” you whispered, your fingers hovering over the fresh ink.

“yeah,” rafe said, his voice lower now, his gaze fixed on your chest. “it is.”

the weight of his stare sent a shiver through you, and when you looked up at him, his expression was darker, more intense. he stepped closer, his hand brushing against your side as he leaned in. “you keep coming back to me,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “starting to think you like having me this close.”

your breath caught, but you didn’t pull away. “and what if i do?”

his lips curved into a slow, dangerous smirk. “then i’d say you’re gonna have to stop teasing me and do something about it.”

his words hung in the air, and the charged silence stretched between you. he didn’t move closer, but he didn’t step back either, his hand still resting on your ribs, his thumb brushing faintly against your skin. it was a challenge, a dare, and you knew this was far from over.

[yaggmurwrites]

the moth & the flame. | armin a.

pairing: armin arlert x reader, mentions of eren jaeger as ex lover

word count: 4k

warnings: +18. mature content. mdni.

the moth & the flame les deux love orchestra -highly recommend listening to this while reading.-

summary: reader is having a difficult night, and in such moments, they always find solace in the comforting presence of Armin, who has always been there to help. yet, there is a plan that has long been residing in Armin's mind, a plan that now beckons.

author's note: it’s been two years since I last wrote something meaningful. I’ve come back with a sudden burst of inspiration. as you read this, just keep in mind that it’s been a while since I’ve written, and this is the first time I’m being this open. enjoy.

7 missed calls from y/n.

03:28

Incoming call from y/n.

03:29

He fixed his gaze on the incoming call, silent, unmoving, as he took another deep drag from his cigarette.

His feet rested comfortably on the coffee table before him; from the outside, no one would have noticed the turmoil stirring within him. The only trace of his quiet excitement was the growing pile of cigarette butts in the ashtray beside him. But he was alone now—there was no need to conceal it.

Tearing his attention away from the phone, he let his eyes drift into the darkness of the night. A deep sense of peace settled over him. He smiled to himself, nodding slightly.

Everything was unfolding exactly as he had imagined. Everything.

He noticed you were calling again. "Sleep," he murmured, as if you were right there beside him, as if you could hear every word.

After that call, the phone fell silent for the night. The mere coincidence stole a quiet chuckle from the blond man. "My good girl," he whispered into the night.

For a fleeting moment, he almost felt bad for you.

Almost.

But he couldn’t afford to let such emotions ruin his plan. There was no need for you to worry.

He knew you were hurting. But you had to.

Until the pain found a new source.

By the time you called him one last time, the screen had become nothing more than a blur. Your eyes were drowning in tears. You were exhausted.

"Please don’t go, Eren! Please…"

Your voice trembled, your breath uneven. You took a few shaky steps toward him, reaching out—but your fingers grasped at nothing before they could even brush against his wrist.

Eren averted his eyes.

Be firm. Be sure, he reminded himself.

As he turned toward the door, you stepped in front of him.

"Don’t do this," you whispered, then your voice rose.

"It doesn’t have to be this way! We can fix it, please!"

This is for her own good, ’Ren. You said it yourself. Your way of life only fuels her anxieties. She's worse than ever... she needs to be away from you.

But Eren only shook his head. His gaze was dark, hard—yet at the same time… empty.

He cleared his throat, as if speaking was a struggle.

"It’s over."

Be sure. Be firm. Be emotionless.

Your head snapped up. "What?" He repeated it without meeting your eyes. "We… This is over."

No.

No, this… this couldn’t be happening.

"No, no, no," you began to whisper. Why? I don’t understand. Why? Why aren’t we trying to find a way? We’ve overcome everything before—we always did, we always found a way!

This is for her own good. You’re hurting her, he reminded himself.

Your legs finally gave out. Trembling, you collapsed to the floor, resting your arms on your knees, hiding your face. Your uneven breaths melted into quiet, broken sobs.

You heard Eren’s footsteps. He hesitated for a few seconds.

You waited, hoping—waiting for him to say something.

But nothing came.

If you love her, you have to let her go. You can’t leave the door open. You have to make her hate you.

And for the last time, he said, "It’s over." Then he stepped past you and opened the door.

The cold air slipped inside.

And the door closed.

The moment he heard your sobs echoing through the house, that cold, detached man vanished.

In his place stood an Eren with glassy eyes—one who did not turn back, but still, for a fleeting second, wavered.

He had done this… for you.

Because his life was riddled with dangers, and your heart was far too fragile. Your anxieties were so heavy, he feared that one day they would crush you entirely—that you would wake up unable to breathe beneath their weight. You couldn’t enjoy life, because your mind was always trapped in the worst possible scenarios.

You had never told him these things yourself—you hadn’t dared.

But Armin had.

Armin knew you well. Maybe even better than Eren did. And he knew Eren, too.

So he must have been right, mustn’t he?

Eren had noticed the way your anxieties had worsened. Some nights, they swallowed you whole, so completely that you would end up at Armin’s embrace.

In the apartment you two shared with your lover, there were nights when Eren had to call Armin in the middle of the night, his voice tight with urgency.

Because only Armin could quiet your cries. Only Armin could hush the whispers that crept into your mind. And so, those certain nights haunted Eren’s thoughts—nights when you buried yourself in Armin’s shoulder, trembling from your own tears. Nights when you curled up in his lap as he murmured soothing words into your ear, his fingers threading gently through your hair.

On those nights, jealousy lodged itself deep within Eren’s chest. He was certain—certain—that no one loved you more than he did.

And yet, in your most desperate moments, he was the one you could not reach. His touch couldn’t ease you. His words couldn’t find you. But Armin’s whispers always did.

And sometimes—just sometimes—Eren could have sworn he saw the faintest trace of amusement flicker across Armin’s face.

But that was only jealousy playing tricks on him.

It had to be.

But one thing was certain. When morning came after those nights, no one ever spoke a word. With an unspoken agreement, the past was quietly buried beneath the new day, and when the breaking points came again, Armin would return—like a saving angel.

Neither you nor Eren noticed it, but the need you had for Eren was slowly fading beneath the shadow of the trust you placed in Armin.

Your body could no longer fight off sleep. You knew Armin would have an answer for you in the morning. And so, you let yourself drift away.

As he pressed the cigarette butt into the ashtray, he hesitated for a brief moment before rising to his feet with slow, deliberate steps.

He glanced at his watch. The message or call you were expecting in the morning wouldn’t come.

Not yet.

For the plan to be perfect, you needed to be alone a little longer. You needed to hurt a little more. Because the more you suffered, the more you would reach for Armin—even in the darkest corners of your mind.

His soothing voice, his gentle touch, his soft whispers—without them, you would become incapable of comforting yourself.

All those nights spent in his presence had shaped you without you even realizing it. They had stolen away your ability to calm yourself, to stand on your own.

Now, without his voice echoing in your ears, without his hands brushing against your skin— You would never find peace.

And if your need for this feeling grew, in time, you would forget your own pain and become trapped in nothing but your longing for him. His absence had to leave a greater echo in you than his presence ever did.

Until now, whenever you needed him, Armin had always been there. In the middle of an important meeting, at a candlelit dinner with a beautiful woman, even at the end of a wretched day—it never mattered. When you called, he came.

Because all of it had been leading to this moment. But today, he wouldn’t be there. The phone would remain silent. The hours would pass, and you would grow restless. You had to wonder where he was.

You had to.

But that was the essence of it all, wasn’t it? Shifting the direction of your pain. Tearing its roots from your own heart and planting them in him. You had to worry about Armin. Those all-consuming fears that ruled your mind—they should no longer be for yourself but for him. And if he could make that happen— God, even the thought of it sent fireworks exploding through Armin’s chest. Could you forget yourself and think only of him?

This entire plan was meant to find out. He had to make you cling to him so tightly that you would forget even your own broken pieces—so that your only concern would be him.

He had to become your everything. Armin could have done it with his own hands—but no, that wouldn’t have been any fun.

He had already seen the potential in you. With the right environment and conditions, he knew you would devote yourself to him. And most importantly… you had to do it of your own free will.

As he stepped into the bathroom, the cold white light struck his face. He stopped in front of the mirror, studying his reflection. He truly had a beautiful face—saying so wasn’t just a compliment; it was a fact. Delicate, almost feminine features blended seamlessly with the strength of his masculine frame, a perfect harmony of contrasts.

Slowly, he curled his fingers into a fist, then, without hesitation, drove it hard into the wall beside the mirror. A sharp sting spread from his knuckles.

When he opened his hand, he watched the blood smear across his skin.

It hurt.

But there was no hesitation. His gaze traveled over his hands, tracing the fine veins and the cracked joints.

Just the way he wanted.

He couldn’t have faced you this morning with that beautiful face.

Now, there had to be an explanation for the silence he had been protecting. When you couldn’t reach him, when your messages and calls went unanswered... And here’s the reason he would give you.

You opened your eyes in the morning with a restless heaviness. To suppress the growing anxiety in your chest, you buried your head into the pillow and took a deep breath.

You wished everything was just a bad dream. But you woke up, and the reality, like a cold blanket clinging to your skin, collapsed upon you.

Your hand, trembling from habit, reached for your phone. In fact, the only thing on your mind was whether you had received a call from Eren. After everything that happened during the night, you thought he might have regretted it and tried calling you this morning.

Maybe a message, maybe a missed call...

But when the screen lit up, your eyes reflexively searched for Armin’s name. You were almost sure you would see his missed calls. Because it always happened this way. While you were falling apart throughout the night, he would try to put you back together with the first light of morning.

But this time, as your fingers scanned through the notifications, your breath caught in your chest.

Armin hadn’t written anything.

No calls, no messages. You quickly scanned your last messages. The emptiness you saw settled in your stomach.

Unread. Unseen. Unanswered.

This wasn’t like him. He was the only one who never made you feel lost. So, what now? Your mind immediately began to imagine the worst-case scenarios. Something had happened. He must have been hurt. There was no other explanation. You gripped the phone tightly in your hand, at first forgetting why you had even picked it up.

You had grabbed it to call Eren, but now Armin’s name appeared on the screen.

Your fingers trembled as you pressed the call button. With every ring, the unease inside you grew a little more.

Armin noticed the call on his phone screen. His eyes saw the name in the corner of the display. Then, without answering, he smiled slightly at the emptiness and, with a deep breath, said, “Good morning, beautiful.”

These words blended into the silence of the room, but in that moment, he knew something was beginning. He was ready to come to you.

One last time, he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. Since the last time he had checked, there was now a bruise under his eye and a bleeding nose. He quickly grabbed his things, got in his car, and set off toward your house.

He knocked on your door three times. He did it with such a rhythm that you knew it was him whenever it rang. You weren’t sure if he was aware of it. But you had already shouted his name silently as you reached the door. You were certain he had arrived.

When you saw his bleeding nose, you paused for a moment.

"Damn it, what happened to you?" you said, your voice trembling. You instinctively reached out to him, but before you touched him, you noticed the open wounds on his knuckles. You cursed quietly.

As you looked at his face, your eyes focused on him as if waiting for an explanation. You were sad, but it wasn’t sadness for yourself; it was the deep sorrow you felt for his condition.

And at that moment, Armin couldn’t believe that everything had gone so perfectly and according to plan.

He wanted to laugh, but not even a smile appeared on his lips.

Like moving pawns on a chessboard, like writing a book he authored...

But he hadn’t done that.

He had only set the necessary conditions. You had become his favorite experiment; every move, every step was part of his plan, but you were the one playing the cards.

In the end, he realized that all his efforts had worked down to their most delicate points. But now, he was eager to see what you would do next.

'I couldn't be with you last night. I'm sorry. On the way, from him—he deliberately avoided saying Eren’s name— I listened to what happened a little.' He took a step toward you. Your hands were still in his.

"W-what ?" You only managed to say...

You had forgotten.

When you saw him, even if for a brief moment, you had forgotten your own pain. You just wanted to get lost in his suffering.

In that moment, Armin wanted to press you against the wall and kiss you roughly.

But he had to wait. It wasn’t part of the script. Everything had its place.

You were still in shock. You took him to the bathroom, sat him on the toilet, and nervously searched for the first aid kit.

He sat silently, watching you. His face wore an innocent expression.

Finally, you found the kit. As you gathered the items to clean his wounds, your hands trembled.

You had never seen Armin like this. You were used to seeing Eren like this in such a state. With a shy look on his face, he’d let you clean his wounds. But Armin always protected himself from such dangers. His cool, calculated demeanor had always made you trust him. But now, these wounds, this pain, this collapse... Why hadn’t he protected himself? Why had he left himself so vulnerable? Everything you knew contradicted this moment.

Slowly, you pulled your hands away and found yourself staring at him. He was already looking into your eyes.

"You've cried so much," he said. In that moment, reality shifted for you.

The sobs and pleas at the door flashed back into your mind. As you remembered, you noticed Armin observing how your body lightly trembled. With the hand you had just wrapped in bandages, he grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.

You were now standing between his legs. He placed his hand on the back of your head and gently guided you to rest on his shoulder. With his free hand, he started drawing small circles on your back.

You were crying. Again. He slowly rose from where he sat, lifted you into his arms, and carried you to your room.

Silently, you continued to cry in his arms. In that moment, Armin was doing everything he could to not leave you alone. He wanted to share your pain, to ease it even if just a little.

You stayed like that for a while, without noticing how much time had passed. When he looked at you, there was a deep sadness in your eyes.

Suddenly, softly, with a low voice, you whispered, "I... I couldn't reach you."

Armin’s eyes opened. In that moment, he was almost grateful that you were too lost in yourself to notice his heartbeat had quickened.

With everything that had happened, the first words that reached him amidst it all were about not being able to reach you.

At that moment, he wanted to give you everything in the world. But he couldn’t say anything; his heart was too full.

From the moment Eren introduced you to Armin, he had felt something for you.

Armin, by nature, wasn’t one to believe in love. He had always treated the women in his life with respect. But he didn’t remember falling in love.

After a long time, he felt a feeling close to love— thanks to you, but it wasn’t pure, innocent love.

Perhaps it was the hunger a hunter feels for its prey—this was the kind of love that fit Armin’s understanding.

He didn’t want a relationship with defined boundaries like the ones that existed with others.

What he wanted was a ritual that had begun today and that he hoped would continue. The men who entered your life would never understand you the way he did. And one day, either on their own or with Armin’s help, they would leave your life. And when that happened, Armin would be there, at your door, by your side, in your bed, and if you allowed it, inside you—whenever you needed him, he would make you forget all about them.

“I’m sorry, baby. I…” he began, but the words hung in the air. You immediately stopped him. “No, no, don’t apologize. I just… I was worried, and I was so scared. But you’re here, it’s okay. Please don’t leave me,” you said, your voice trembling but determined.

He gently pulled your head from where you had hidden it, slowly meeting your gaze. “I’ll be here as long as you want me to be. Always,” he said.

In that moment, you wanted to look away, but Armin gently cupped your cheeks with his hands, guiding your eyes back to his. “Okay?” he asked, his voice soft but steady. You gave a small nod of yes.

Armin, trying to comfort you one more time, gently laid you down on the bed, and you rested your head on his arm. It felt as if he had wrapped you in his wings. You were safe.

“Tell me about yesterday,” he said, his tone softer now. At first, you didn’t want to speak. The pain that had gathered in your eyes frightened you to show it. But Armin’s calming presence began to bring your emotions to the surface. You stayed silent for a while, then slowly began to speak. You told him everything about Eren’s departure, the deep pain inside you. In that moment, your tears started to fall, each drop feeling like a piece of the pain itself. You shared with him how much Eren’s disappearance had hurt you, the emptiness inside, your anxiety, and your fear.

Armin listened quietly, his gaze fixed on you.

“Without you, I couldn’t silence myself,” you said. “Even though it was Eren who left, I missed you.”

fuck—.

And at that moment, without realizing what you were saying, the words flowed out of you.

He didn’t look away. He was struggling to hold himself back. He knew that under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t accept this.

You were in love with Eren. That was a fact. But you were also in love with Armin. That was another truth you had hidden even from yourself.

It was clear that you didn’t understand the impact of the words that had escaped your lips. You were confused, and your mind was overwhelmed with thoughts. But the longing within you was pushing at Armin’s boundaries, making him desire you even more.

He should have waited for you to make the first move. He shouldn't have scared you. Then...

He felt a short, open kiss on his lips. Your eyes were tired of crying, closed. It was like a foreign kiss trying to get everything it can from him in this short time. You had always wondered about kissing him.

Armin knew that if he didn't act quickly, you would get embarrassed and pull yourself away.

Before you could pull yourself away, he wrapped his left arm around your body. You were stuck between his arms. He slowly pulled you towards him. You wrapped your arms around his neck.

Your chest was touching his chest. Before you knew it, your lips met again.

He copied the kiss you gave him without scaring you. He slowly pulled his lip back for a moment. As if waiting for your approval.

You had thrown one leg over his with the feeling of the kiss. You were so close. Even though you had cried in his arms countless times, this was completely different.

Maybe you should have felt guilty, but there was no trace of that feeling. Maybe it was because Eren had broken your heart so much. Maybe it was because this was one of your biggest fantasies.

You didn't leave Armin's question unanswered and brought your lips together again. This time, more intensely, more emotionally. It was as if you had both been waiting for this for a long time.

His hand on your back slowly moved down to your hip. He helped guide you towards him. Your most sensitive spots had touched each other in a closed way.

This sudden contact stole a moan from you. Armin took the opportunity and brought his tongue into your mouth and continued exploring you. You started to caress his hair with the hand on his head.

He brought you to a sitting position with his strong hands. Now you were sitting on his lap. His two hands were on your ass so he could sit you up more properly. You continued kissing.

When he squeezed your ass with his hands, you breathed out for a moment and your kissing stopped.

You leaned your forehead against his broad shoulder.

You were embarrassed. This made Armin smile. He leaned his head towards you and started kissing your exposed neck. Tiny open mouth kisses. Slowly moving up to your ear.

"Do you want me to stop?" He asked.

He already knew the answer. But he needed to hear it from you. You were driving him crazy. He had always dreamed of this moment but he hadn’t expected it to be this good.

You shook your head no. But that wasn’t enough of an answer. Armin wanted to push you to your limits. "I need to hear you, baby. Do you want me to continue?"

A thin ‘please’ escaped your mouth. Armin was practically blinded. But he shouldn’t have scared you.

He took a deep breath. 'said, “Come here,” and positioned you over him again with his hands on your ass.

You knew you were wet, but you realized it better when he made you sit fully on his length.

He released your lips so he could hear your moans properly. He was kissing your neck, while also helping you grind yourself against him with his hands.

This—this was too much.

You locked your hands around his arms. You tried to keep up with Armin’s rhythm as you found your balance.

You were a complete moaning mess.

You tried to hold back, but Armin encouraged you. Don’t hold back. Yeah? Please, he begged.

You liked how he begged—Armin knew that you would love it.

Even though he knew you so well, he was no longer stuck to the plan. Because the plan had ended there.

From here on out, it was all you and him. No one else, no plan, no game. No pain from the past, no anxiety about the future. There was only the present. You were together. You were dangerously close, and both of you just wanted more.

"Armin.. 'need more," you babbled.

Hm? Yeah baby?  You need me, don't you? You need more of me. —Don't worry I'll give you what you need. I'll give you everything.

there might be a next chapter—or not. it’s my first time writing something like this, so I kind of chickened out lmao.

don’t forget to share your thoughts!

yaggmurwrites, 2025.

[stellamarielu]

distraction

declan o'hara x reader

summary: literally just a short little blurb about joining declan for one of his infamous baths

content: nsfw, 18+, cursing, grumpy declan, playful banter, hairy naked man hot, bath time sexy time, fingering

author’s note: truly cannot believe i haven’t written something about taking a bath with declan… like??? thank god i’ve come to my senses

“What’re ya doin’ sweetheart?” Declan’s voice was low and rough as he questioned your sudden presence in the bathroom. 

You were pulling your shirt over your head as his eyes trailed down the newly exposed skin of your torso. 

He'd been sulking for far too long. You knew his his habit for soaking in the bath when he was stressed, and you figured he could use some help relaxing. 

“Thought maybe you’d like a little company.”

Declan was chuckling, taking one last puff from his cigarette before putting it out on the ashtray sitting at the edge of the tub. 

You were shimming out of the last of your clothing as Declan’s eyes shamelessly raked over your figure. 

“Could never say no to you darlin’.” He was smirking and leaning over the side of the bathtub, hardly able to contain his excitement over the idea of having you join him. He was entranced, imagining the way your soft skin would feel all slicked and wet against his.

"Jesus- Declan it's freezing in here." You were stepping one foot into the tub, the words coming from you in a low hiss as you felt the lukewarm temperature of the water.

He dramatically rolled his eyes at your exaggeration.

He knew you were one to bathe in scalding hot water, your shared showers always turning into a competition switching the faucet back and forth.

"C'mere princess, I'll warm you up."

The corniest grin had taken over his face. Finally he had allowed his thoughts to drift away from stress and toward something a bit more light hearted.

You were twisting and turning in the small space attempting to find a comfortable position against Declan's body, until you settled between his legs with your back on his chest.

"Long day?" You asked with your hands running along his thighs on either side of your body.

"Don't wanna talk about it." By the sound of his annoyed grumble, you could tell he was recalling whatever event had him stewing in the tub.

"In fact..." His voice shifted from irritation to something deeper— covertly playful.

"Don't really wanna talk about anythin' right now."

His hands that were gently resting against your stomach were now trailing further down, dipping underneath the water and inching between your legs.

"Declan. I came in here to distract you, not the other way around."

You were referring to the way his fingertips were now dancing over your clit. His gentle touch sending you into a state of complete bliss.

"Oh I'm distracted all right." You could hear the smirk on his lips as he continued tracing languid circles at the bundle of nerves between your legs.

"Doin' a real good job at pullin' me out of my slump sweetheart."

Your head fell back against his shoulder as his words purred into your ear.

"That's what I'm here for." Your voice was light and teasing beneath the sigh of relief escaping you. His touch had your toes curling and a quiet moan fighting to slip from your throat.

"Damn right it is." The groan rolling off his tongue as he sunk two fingers into you had your body melting into his.

“Gonna be good and let me use you sweet girl?”

His tone was somehow sweet and sadistic. The way he was speaking to you only adding to the pleasure coiling in your abdomen.

You nodded, the back of your head rubbing against the muscles of his chest. You were speechless as you let him take his frustrations out through the curl of his fingers inside of you.

All you could think about- other than how fucking good Declan was with his hands- was why on earth this was the first time you thought to join him in the bath?

[stitched-mouth]

Meet The Fives

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy.

Pairing: Other Five x Female! Reader x Brisket Five

Format: Long NSFW fic.

Summary: After losing your husband in the time travel subway, you meet several different Fives. Two of them, stand out to you.

Warnings: SMUT! NSFW! Seriously, this is some of the filthiest shit ever written. I finally got to write something with a stuck kink, something I love. It’s very consensual but stuck fantasies always need a CNC warning. Cheating, Angst (?), Cum eating, Threesoom (MxFxM), Spit roasting, Vaginal sex, Oral sex (male receiving), lots of grammar mistakes don’t be mad 🙏

Writing Time: 3 hours.

Word Count: over 3,500

A/N:

PLEASE READ MY NOTES BEFORE READING MY STORY, THIS ONE IS ACTUALLY IMPORTANT

Thank you to everyone that encouraged me to post this; @ifellinto-fantasy @voteforevilthoughts @fartsquelch7 I really hope you guys enjoy and stick around for a possible part two

You can skip straight to the smut, it’s sectioned off and highlighted.

I’ve had an idea to write a stuck smut fic with two Fives for ages now, so happy I finally did so. But this work isn’t perfect, like always I put a lot of into setting up the story and the smut and ending slightly suffered. I forget sometimes that I don’t need to give a backstory to all my stories, I’m sorry.

The backstory also might not make a lot of sense to everyone but I explained as well as could and even if there is a massive plot hole in this fic, please pretend like you don’t see it 🙏

But I’m still happy with the way this came out and I hope you will too.

But also some explanations, there’s a huge inconsistency with how long five worked for the commission, he is 13 years old when he jumped forward to the apocalypse and spends 45 years there and 58 years old when he jumps to 2019. But every source online confirms he worked for the commission for 4-5 years before he jumped to 2019… meaning he actually spent 40 or 41 years in the apocalypse and was 52 when he started working for the Commission. This is why in one line of this I mention that Five was 52 years old while working for the Commission. Feel free to correct me if you know something I don’t.

And the reader loves Bailey’s Hot Chocolate because I do.

Please enjoy!

—

It wasn’t such a great time for you, you had been wondering around the disconcerting train station. Your husband, Five, had brought you and Lila with him by accident due to his familiar but different and uncontrollable power and the bad part is you had been standing on the platform staring at the confusing map too long to notice your husband and your sister-in-law stepping onto a train.

It had left without you. And Five’s attempt to blink off the train when he realised you weren’t going to make it on was futile.

You tried your best not to panic, this wouldn’t be like the last time Five time travelled, right? He’d be back to any minute now, all you had to do was wait, right?

Yeah well you waited hours before deciding to step onto another train, it left from the same platform so it had to take you to him, right? You’re not right very often here.

You stepped onto the train and tried your best to navigate, but honestly, nothing made sense to you here. You had a very strong feeling the train maps were created by another Five in his own made up language, you just had to hope your Five would figure it out and find you.

You had so much time on the platform to remind how you had met Five while you both worked at the Commission as partners. You were only 20 years old but well-known as the Commission’s best assassin, hence why you were partnered up. You had been trained to kill since you were a pre teen and loved it, but you loved Five more than anything else. When you met Five, he was 52 years old, making Five very wary around you and avoiding you and his feelings for you until it was too much. You both finally hooked up after 2 years of working together and clumsily but intensely flirting, you called him your hot stuff and he called you Princess, he was hot and you certainly behaved like a Princess. He brought you back to 2019 with him and you had unofficially married right before the first end of the World. Legally doing so after Allison reset the Universe and living and again working together at the CIA.

You stepped off the train slowly and cautiously, when you deemed it safe you began calling for your husband. No response and nobody was in sight. You were about to step back onto the train when you noticed your husband, well he looked like your husband, walk past the train.

You suddenly felt extreme relief and joy as you ran after him, “Five! Hot Stuff!”

He kept walking so you continued chasing him and grew furious when you realised he could definitely hear you but not stopping, “Old man! Fuckface!”

You suddenly stood in front of ‘Max’s Delicatessen’

You looked around, bewildered and confused. Five quickly made his way inside but turned to look at you first and wink. The wink unsettled you. Something so Five and usually so comforting, now ate your stomach left and it feeling uneasy. That was not your husband.

You didn’t feel completely unsafe, but more intrigued instead. So you slowly entered the Deli and looked around, maybe 50 different Fives all enjoying themselves with coffee and deli meats. A few of them looked back at you in shock and or horror. The Deli became slow and quiet.

“Oi, Hot stuff!”

A Five was gesturing for you to join him, the same one you followed. You slowly moved over to his table.

“She’s mine, boys.”

Nearly all the Fives sighed sadly and continued with themselves. You raised an eyebrow at the Five now in front of you, “I’m definitely not yours.”

“Aw, was hoping I could convince you.” He smirked, “Please sit, Hot Stuff.”

You sat down and decided to mess with him, “I knew you wasn’t him. My Daddy usually calls me Princess.”

This Five choked on his coffee and you grinned, just as another Five dressed as a waiter, delivered you a Bailey’s Hot Chocolate. You were confused how he knew what you wanted before you had even ordered but you were even more confused with how he stared at you nervously. You had only once seen fear in your husband’s eyes and you had both fought the end of the World 3 times and worked as assassins together, it terrified you to see your Five or any Five scared. Especially of you.

They both quickly collected themselves, waiter Five left the table and the Five sitting opposite you dapped his face with his napkin before looking back at you.

“Well, I could call you Princess if you prefer. But only if you call me Daddy.”

“No thanks, I’m looking for my husband.” You sighed.

“Well, if he’s not in here, I haven’t seen him. He’s likely lost… with Lila.”

You raised an eyebrow, “How do you know he’s with Lila?”

“Because he’s not the first Five to get stuck down here with a Lila and cheat on his beautiful wife.”

“Cheat? You must be mistaken, my Five and I—“

“I’m really sorry Princess, but I am definitely not mistaken. If your Five isn’t here it’s because he’s not welcome, there’s a strict no cheating on your perfect wife ever but especially not with your brother’s wife policy here. Unless the World is actively ending, then we make an exception to associate with those Fives. Any of us, would reach out to help another one of us if lost, unless we spot them with a Lila.”

You glared at him, very offended. But the longer you stared into his eyes, you could see his sadness and pain. Your gaze soften but you still didn’t believe him.

“Maybe… maybe one or two Five would do that but mine wouldn’t.”

“Look, I would never do that and I’m disgusted some versions of me would. But as soon as one of us comes here with a Lila, it happens, it’s pre determined. And getting stuck down here, it’s our punishment… at least we leave them alone as punishment.”

“I still don’t believe you.”

“I don’t expect you too. I don’t doubt you love him and that he loves you too, but… I don’t know, I don’t know why any Five would betray their wives. But none of us are perfect and some are just totally undeserving of you.”

“Where’s your me?”

“Dead. Like most of you, sadly. You don’t tend you survive on your own down here… I didn’t come with Lila, I came here with only my lovely wife and… after so many years trapped here, she didn’t see a way out so… yeah.”

He trailed off and looked down, nearly in tears. His wife killed herself. You carefully took his hand, this may not be your Five but this one was so open with his feelings and staring at you with such loving eyes that warmed you similar to how your husband’s used to, you’d be lying if you said your marriage had been perfect so far, recently you hadn’t touch each other in months and you had no idea why and was too scared to ask (but cheating didn’t seem like the answer, but maybe it was and you hadn’t noticed?). You was also having trouble disconnecting the Five in front of you from the feelings you still had for your husband.

He sniffed his brewing tears away and looked back at you.

“But anyways, I found this Deli afterwards. A lot of us here, wondered in one day or was found by another one of us and was brought here. One of us could get you home if you wanted but we wouldn’t want to let you go especially if your timeline is ending, which it likely is.”

You sighed and gently rubbed his hand.

“Five… if my husband doesn’t want me anymore, I’d rather… find another Five who wouldn’t betray me.”

He gave you a small smile, “Look around and take your pick, Princess.”

You looked around at all the Fives in the room, all of them just as handsome as your husband but no familiar feeling. Expect the Five currently in front of you.

“Maybe I’ll pick after finishing this.”

You picked up your now lukewarm Baileys Hot Chocolate and began gulping it down. After the day you’ve had, you needed to get drunk, hopefully it would be easy since you hadn’t eaten yet and if these amazing Bailey Hot Chocolate kept coming and you kept chugging them. Five chuckled a bit before sipping on his own coffee. You quickly waved the same waiter Five for another, he promptly brought you another as well as some of your favourite snacks.

“So is the lovely young lady staying?”

You could still hear the nervous tone in his voice but it was more friendly now. You smiled at him and nodded.

“Wonderful, let me know if you need anything else.”

“Oh I will. Get me another one of these but hold the hot chocolate this time.”

You gave him a naughty grin as you looked at him up and down and quickly smacked his ass, he blushed and hurried off to help another Five. The Five in front of you chuckled again.

“What? I can pick anyone of you, right? That makes sexual harassing Five service works ok, right?”

“You are right. That’s Brisket Five, he wrecks shit.”

“Yeah hopefully he’ll be wrecking my pussy soon.”

Five choked on his coffee again but then laughed hard.

“Are you drunk already, darling?”

“Trying to be.”

He nodded understanding why.

“Hey! Brisket Five, scotch!”

A few hours later you and your new Five were drunk as skunks. The pain of losing your husband had been temporary forgotten, drowned in your and this Five’s shared sorrow and liquor. You had a new Five that already loved you and wouldn’t betray you. And if that didn’t work, you still had many choices to repair your broken heart. You didn’t know if you were going to go back to you and Five’s family but you had all the time you wanted to decide, considering time was technically stopped in train stations and Deli.

But don’t get me wrong, you were heartbroken and angry underneath your giddy drunken laughter and desperate to get rid of the pain that was at risk of spill out of you in uncontrollable tears.

It was closing time and Brisket Five was shooing all the drunk Fives out, including you. He still blushed and stuttered around you, telling you that this Five must be a lot younger than the other. You asked and found that mentally he was only 35, he was one of the few Five’s that didn’t get stuck in an apocalypse and instead grew up with his siblings. But he wasn’t as lucky as he seemed, growing up with his siblings and never working for the Commission meant he never met his you.

You and your new Five giggled and stumbled as you stepped out of the Deli, you drunkenly shhhed Five and he shhhed you back making you both laugh loudly. The moment suddenly became serious as you gazed into each other’s eyes and eventually began kissing.

His tongue was ferocious, you could feel had touch starved he was, much like your original Five. Your tongues danced sloppy but it was so intense and intoxicating you could feel your vagina open and burn with need. You strongly considered turning around and bending over for him right where you was but he suddenly broke away.

“Shit, I forgot my jacket.”

You rolled your eyes and began peeking in through the windows for Brisket Five, nobody was in sight and the lights had been turned off, except for one around the corner of the Deli, it looked like the kitchen.

“Can you blink inside?”

Five shook his head, no.

“Well didn’t you say it would only be closed for 2 hours? Because they are trying to be 24/7?”

“My map is in it.”

You sighed and made your way to the kitchen window and knocked gently, the window was unlocked and slowly creeped open the more you pushed on it. You poked your head inside and saw no one, you sighed again about to look back at Five but you felt touch your back gently.

“Please, let me help you inside and you can get it for me?”

“Ok.”

—-/// SMUT ///—-

You agreed seeing the task as easy, you maybe drunk but you’re still a cold blooded killer, you can break into a Deli easily and grab a coat. And even if you got caught, you’re you, any Five would let you off freely.

You crawled inside and pressed both your hands on the low kitchen counter in front of you, accidentally knocking over a pan you didn’t notice. You gritted your teeth as the pan hit the floor and made a loud bang noise.

“Pull me back! Pull me back!”

Five heard your whisper yelling and began trying pull you backwards by your hips, but you was stuck and all he did was pull your jeans halfway down.

‘Fuck’, you thought. You were definitely way too drunk for this.

You heard some shuffling in another room and in stepped Brisket Five.

“Hi…”

“I already told you, we’re closed Darling.”

“I know, I’m sorry but—“

“No no no babygirl, you can’t just break in and enter. Especially not so poorly.”

He walked over to you and was now face to face with his crotch. It gets better, you could hear the Five behind you groan with need and begin pulling off your jeans and panties all the way down. Your eyes widen with shock and lust as you heard him spit into his hand and then feel him slowly enter you.

Your burning cunt accepting him easily and you gasped with excitement.

“Um, I.. I’m sorry… let me make it up.. to you..”

Brisket Five was beyond shocked with your suddenly breathy horny voice and even more shocked when you began pulling his belt, pants and boxers off. You stared into his eyes as you licked up and down his dick before taking it fully into your mouth.

He groaned as you began moving your head back and forth, just as the other Five fucked you slowly but so deeply. Your cunt tighten as you took Brisket Five down your throat and Five moaned loudly, he grabbed your hips and increased his pace.

So you increased your pace, moving your mouth up and down faster on the younger Five’s cock. He sighed in pleasure and gently put his hand into your hair and moved your head back and forth. You was Heaven, being spit roasted by two Fives’ was your ultimate wet dream. And both of being so touch starved and whipped for you meant they were more than happy to take anything you gave them.

As you slurped down one Five’s dick and got pounded by another, you decided to never fucking leave.

You felt yourself nearing your release, so you threw your hips back, forcing Five to go deeper and pound your walls harder. Brisket Five’s large cock was nearly suffocating you, just how you liked it. You sucked like your life depended on it, only feeling desperation to have all of them both. You came and whined around Brisket Five as you did so.

Seeing you orgasm and stare so intently at him as you did so made him lose it.

“Fuck!”

Brisket Five suddenly ripped his soaking dick from your throat and with all his might began pulling you through the window, Five though, held onto you as tightly as he could. You let the two Fives fight over you, too drunk and pussy whipped to do anything. Brisket Five won and he pulled into him then stood up carefully and looked out the window at Five.

“You coming in?”

Five suddenly blinked inside.

“You, you asshole…”

“Sorry Princess, I knew you’d bend over me but Brisket Five needed some action too.”

He grabbed the back of your head and pushed you onto your knees and forced his dick down your throat. You choked slightly at first but Five throat fucked you through it, ignoring the tears running down your red puffed out cheeks and burning throat.

Brisket Five stood and watched for a second while jerking himself off before deciding to get on his knees behind you and enter your pussy. He moaned loudly and eagerly began fucking you.

The two seemed desperate and hellbent on using your holes as much as they could, sexual frustration had taken them over completely and they were blood thirsty, well in this case pussy thirsty.

After what felt like an eternity of being on your knees begging for more, Brisket Five cried as he came inside you. You came again at the same time. Five took slightly longer to enjoy your mouth but eventually pulled out and came onto your face. You moaned as he did so, relieved from your second orgasm and the ability to breathe again. His hot wet semen spoiled your face and you smiled up at him.

The Fives looked down at their work proudly. Brisket Five helped you slowly to your feet and you moaned again quickly as you felt his cum drip out of you, you began shamelessly scooping it up in your hands and licking it off your fingers and licking at the corners of your mouth for Five’s cum.

Brisket Five’s face flushed and he stuttered out, “I’ll get you a towel.”

He scurried off, almost tripping as he tried to fix his trousers as he walked.

You smiled and looked at Five, who was also fixing his trousers, he noticed you looking at him and he suddenly kissed you deeply. Your holes felt so used and your heart felt so loved and in love.

Yeah, you was never leaving.

—///—

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT PART TWO AND ANY SUGGESTIONS FOR IT, I HAVE AN IDEA BUT NEED MOTIVATION TO WRITE IT

[yearningandstillnotlearning]

𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑺𝑶𝑭𝑻,

𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑵.

A/N: okay bear with me, this is a ‘poem’ (i don’t know what else to call it) that i wrote and when i read over it i realised some girls here would appreciate this imagery with their own infatuations, so whilst its not written like fan-fiction i felt generous enough to share it and i hope at least 1 of you will like it, best part is that you can picture any one of your favourite girls!!! Instead of a name i call the other character “Pretty”, so keep that in mind while reading, and again, this isn’t written like fan-fiction, but still i would appreciate it if you gave it a shot and told me what you think ♡

tags: lesbian only, think anyone!, femme!r, metaphors, suggestive, nsfw undertones but they are so slight and hidden beneath the wordplay that i can’t really count this as nsfw, sadomasochistic in a way, did i forget something? Let me know!

· · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · · ୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨ · · ─ ·𖥸· ─ · ·

I don’t want a cottage, i don’t want a life in simplicity and independency. I want a castle, i want an abandoned mansion adorned by vines hugging it long after solitude fell cold and loveless upon its very walls.

I want to hear the floors creak with every step, i want to hear the tremble of the floors effortlessly mirror the tremble of her legs, i want to have her, Pretty, and i want to keep her on her toes. I want, behind her gaze, to be as unpredictable as the grass around the mansion, a neglected ring of hues of green. Tall, short, eaten, rotten.

I want to give her the world, and i want to make her spin in the middle of it, i want to give her everything and make her feel like in a moment she could have nothing.

I want to make her dizzy and i want to make her euphoric, i want to see her scared and i want to hold her close, be the one to comfort her, Pretty.

I want our clothes to dance against each other when the weather drops and i take her out on walks, on the endless garden we’ve named ‘our hearts’ that no matter how long it’s been there for, untouched, unloved, uncared for, it just never seems to end.

I want her to let me tear her cotton fabrics apart and off, torn by grinding teeth and claw-like nails, hungry like a centuries-old vampire, lifetimes of self control and respect disintegrated in the very same time span Pretty’s clothes get ripped. Carefully laboured fabric, soft as freshly laved hair, made with the selfish, miserable thought of this granting them extra bread on their dinner plate.

And she would, she would let me tear her apart in one shared gaze. She would let me hold her and scratch her open, she would let me wound her because she knows i’ll be the one to heal her up again. And she knows i’ll do it before she can build the thought of asking me to.

She would let me darken her vision under the noon sun, heating and blinding. She would let me bruise her neck, violet splats trailing down her body like a rosemary. She would let me reach her depths and spin them around, it’d be nothing new to her, as long as her world is intertwined with mine she’s always spinning, she’s always dizzy. She would let me cradle her head as i treat her like fresh meat in aching, starved hands, because i’ve done so another hundred times, and each one she only seems more unwilted than the last.

Because she knows she’ll get me back.

Because she plans on making my darkest nights luminous, and she knows i’ll let her. The story is always the same; she unwraps me like a one-of-a-kind royal heirloom, her touches vigilant, precise on what she unfolds, what lies beneath her hands. And she knows i don’t fancy peace, her words forming clear juxtaposition to her touches, there are no blurred lines, my sense of touch and my sense of hearing are in two completely different words, and yet they co-exist in the pits of my stomach.

But like every child asking their parent to tell them a bedtime story, it doesn’t matter if its always the same, they always enjoy it the same. At the end of the day they fall asleep to it every time.

I’ll let her unwrap the lace off the corset, i’ll let her loosen every layer, watch the silks fall off my form, i’ll let her tell me the harshest things that leave my throat closing in on itself, as her hands soothe around my flesh getting me to ease up. She’ll rock me back and forth from being velvety to being cruel, i know it, and i will let her.

Because it takes two to dance, if you’re unable to match the other’s rhythm what’s the fun? It’s only enjoyable when you’re both having fun. 🫀

[ebsmind]

My Little Treasure | president!Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary : being the presidents mistress isn’t easy. even when another woman comes out saying she’s having an affair with him.

word count : 8.5k (the longest ive ever written BE PROUD OF ME)

warning(s) : this is purely based off of shonda rhimes SCANDAL sjiwiejdj, angst, longing (kinda? idk), cheating/infidelity (nellie deserves better), reader pushes her feeling aside, timo being called nico’s personal bitch AHAHAHA, murder (mentioned in case), non accurate descriptions of politics and law stuff, like 2-3 mentions of vomit , use of Y/N (I tried not too but I just couldn't), tbh there’s not a lot of nico x reader IM SORRY part 2 will make up for it, heavy makeout session, smut kinda? idk but next part will be smutty TRUST, getting caught by timo (what the hell Timo), VIOLENCE aka just a slap in the face, one flashback spicy scene and i think that's it!

a/n : LISTEN LISTEN before i say ANYTHING i just wanted to say that i know nico isn’t american but im currently hyper fixated on him and only him and i just started watching scandal again SO I HAD TO so please if you don’t like the “accuracy” don’t read it! this is FICTIONAL but yeah here we are! this closely follows the first episode from season 1! this is a long oneeeee! i’ve also changed the names of Abby, Quinn, Harrison, Huck, AND Cyrus (you’ll see who I change him with 😏) I also go along with the case that’s happening so this is semi like a mystery but not? idk how to explain but you’ll see as you read. send me something in my inbox if you want me to elaborate on anything about the side characters! i definitely want to turn this into an au so send me something so i can write about it or talk about it! here’s the mood board! this is also my second time writing anything spicy so please bear with me, this whole fic idea really had me out of my comfort zone so it isn't my best writing but I still wanted to get this out!

The clicks of your So Kate’s are heard throughout the law firm. Everyone knows it’s you, just by the way you walk. It’s swift and carries determination, you are on a mission. You present yourself with a sense of purpose to your colleagues. Scratch that, they’re family. Despite them technically being your coworkers, you would do anything for the four of them. From saving Gwen from her violent ex-husband to Kurt, a soldier who had served in the United States CIA’s top secret, off the books, B-613 program who ended up being dumped on the streets to beg for food, you saved them and they were all you had. 

You step into the standard-sized conference room, and the extensive window along the back wall displays an orange-to-blue hue. The sun is setting and making it known that the end of the day is near. You first make eye contact with Blair, the senior associate at the firm. She stops her conversation amongst everyone and before she can greet you, Kurt, who is sitting at the very right end of the table, utters, “Perla Schmitz killed herself, channel 5.” 

You make no time to strut to the table and grab the TV remote, which had been sitting next to Blair. You don’t need to change the channel once you press the power button on the remote, it’s all you watch in the firm—across the 55’ inch screen, displayed in bold lettering ‘Perla Schmitz (26) found dead in her home’. You take a second to yourself. Perla had been caught cheating on her husband, who was a very conservative congressman, but that wasn’t the icing on the cake. The guy she was having an affair with? He murdered her husband, brutally. 27 stab wounds to the chest, his head almost decapitated because of how much force was used to slit his throat. If someone were to ask you, you’d say she had it coming. 

You turn to the group and raise a finger in the air as you start to speak. “We knew this was coming, let’s not pretend that she wasn’t the one cheating on her husband.” 

Perla came into your office late last Friday night, around 11:25. You had stayed longer than you originally wanted to, needing to finish up some paperwork that had to be done for one of the previous clients you had. What a way to bring in the new year, but you weren’t complaining. 

“Exactly! I knew she didn’t have enough willpower to continue her life. She took the easy way out, man.” You take a seat at the left end side of the table, parallel to Kurt while Neil, another associate and close friend of yours finishes his veracious remark. You decide it’s best to tell Neil and everyone else to drop the topic, but before you can open your mouth, the firm doors open. The 7-foot ebony-colored wood doors reveal a man with black hair and blue eyes, maybe mid to late 20s. The first thing you notice is how his eyes tear up before he speaks, not how he’s covered in blood. 

“I-…I didn’t kill her I swear! She was my best friend, we were gonna get married!” 

Your irises scan over the pinned evidence on the whiteboard, it had been approximately 18 hours since the 6’2 blood blood-covered man had walked into your firm. Sully St. James comes from an extremely well-respected family. His father was a Veteran from the Vietnam War. Sully himself had done two tours in Iraq and received the Medal of Honor. Having someone as well respected as him, show up to the front door of your firm, asking for help wasn’t new but you were determined to help the man not get convicted as the killer in his girlfriend’s murder case. You needed time, but the US attorney general David Rosen was stubborn. 

“Okay! So, according to Sully, he had just come home from the bar down on 9th St, called SOST, he then walked into the bathroom where the crime scene is, saw Paige’s body on the ground,” Blair points out and before she can finish her sentence Kurt cuts her off. 

“Paige suffered from 2 bullets to the chest and 1 to the head. This wasn’t a freak accident, someone wanted her dead.” Kurt crosses his arms and moves up from the far end of the table. He was correct, but your gut couldn’t help but wail that Sully was not the cause. 

Blair continues to explain the approximate details, “Here’s the weird part, Sully calls the police but before they can get there he flies, and he flies here.” She takes a step away from the whiteboard and makes eye contact with you. She can sense what you’re already going to say. Blair knows you, and she knows you like the back of her hand. 

“My gut tells me that he didn’t do this. Something is missing. I need more, all of you need to try to find something, anything! Anything that can clear this man’s alibi. He said it himself that he loved her and that she was his best friend. I believe him.” You step up from the chair you were sitting in and start heading towards the conference room doors when your cell phone starts to ring. Grabbing it out of your left pocket, the name “Timo Meier” is displayed across the screen. You huff in response. 

He needs you right now and you know if Timo were to tell you to head to the White House as soon as possible you would and it wouldn’t end in a way you would like. Yet, you still manage to press the green button, confirming the call. 

“What do you want.” You’re busy and Timo knows it. This isn’t some ‘Oh hi! How are you doing? I haven’t heard from you in a while phone call. Timo didn’t have time for that, being the White House’s Chief of Staff to Nico Hischiers personal bitch, he never had time.

Timo sighs, you can already picture him, sitting at his desk, elbow resting on it, his thumb and pointer finger trying to relieve his throbbing headache. Timo did so much for the President of the United States and somehow that included calling you on a random Tuesday afternoon. 

“He needs you to come in. Something happened and we need you to make it go away.” Timo lets you take a second to respond. Already sensing that the situation was substandard, it had been months since you had last spoken to Timo and maybe even half a year since you’ve seen Nico. Physically. It wasn’t that you hated him, you could never. It was the fact you left your position as the White House Communications Director for yourself. Everything you did was always for Nico and never not you and when the realization of that hit you, it was time to go. It’s time to separate yourself from some fantasy that only ever works out in the books. The feeling of two hands wrapped around your throat finally caught up to you. 

“I’ve got a client sitting in my conference room Timo.” 

“Look, I know, I know, but this isn’t something that needs to be out in the public. Make it go away. Please. If not for him, for me.” He’s desperate and you know it. If you were to tell him that the only reason you were about to agree was because you held him in such high regard, you’d never hear the end of it. So, you keep your reply as simple as needed. 

“Okay, I’ll be there in 45 minutes. I need to let Neil know.” 

You spot Timo before he spots you. He’s sat on a bench, perhaps getting some proper vitamin D. You watch the way his foot taps every other millisecond. Being cooped up in a mediocre-sized office in the White House can make someone feel insane, you’ve been there. 

As you get closer, you examine the navy blue suit that he’s dressed in. It’s his favorite one, he has 3 more pairs of it because he wears it so much. His tie has gold accents on it, it’s from his wife. You had helped her pick it out for him since you had seen him a lot more than she did. His eyes are heavy, he’s needs a vacation, a long one to be exact. You’ll let Nico know if you ever see him again, maybe he can pull some strings for him even if it’s a nice (long-awaited) expensive dinner.

You walk up the concrete steps before reaching Timo, the only thing grabbing his attention is the click of your heels. Once he realizes that you have walked up to him, you open your mouth to greet him. 

“What.” Timo giggles, he’s knows you mean business but he can’t deny he misses your presence around in the White House even if you were telling him off half of the time. 

“Well, hello to you too.” He stands up and gestures to start walking with him. You obey and within a second you guys stride across the walkway that overlooks the White House. 

“What do you need me for Timo? I don’t work for him anymore.” 

“He needs a favor.” You scoff at Timo and choose not to say anything.

“You still came. You came when I called.” His words hit you like a bus. It stings. Both you and Timo know that whenever the President needs anything from you, you’ll be there in a heartbeat. You’d do anything for everyone you love. You were loyal. That’s how it always had been and why Nico wanted you there every step of the way. He knew that he could turn his back and not expect a knife to be plunged into it. 

“Her name is Vanessa Wyatt. She works in AIDE. She claims to have had an affair with him. I need you to make it go away and fast.” Timo places his right arm on his abdomen, in response you hook your left one into his right and walk side by side with Timo. 

“Is it true?” You try to show no reaction but green envy begins to boil in your stomach.

“No, of course not, but I need you to shut it down.” 

“I need to see him.” You don’t think about your reply until after it leaves your mouth. Both you and Timo come to an abrupt stop. He takes a step back and faces you. 

“No, I don’t think that’s possible.” 

“You want me to shut her up? Then I need to look at him in the eyes and know he’s not lying.” Timo knows that you're serious. You always are. 

“The President’s schedule is packed. He has no time to see you.” He’s straightforward, Timo doesn’t have time for negotiating but luckily for you, you’re a persuasive person. You tend to always get what you want even if it means overstepping some boundaries. 

“He wants my services but here’s the thing Timo, I do not work for him anymore! So, tell him to make time to see me if not you’re just gonna have to find someone else to do it for you. You know where to find me.” 

After giving Timo a faint smile, you turn to walk away. As one foot goes in front of the other, you can’t help but feel that some part of this story is true making your heart ache.

By the time you get back to your office, you get a phone call from Timo, confirming that Nico managed to get out of a meeting so that he could talk to you. With that, you grab your coat off the coat rack and start heading towards the conference room to let at least Gwen know about your abrupt departure. 

“Hey Gwen, duty calls at the White House, I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Anything new?” Gwen knows you’re talking about the case and before she utters anything new she’s found, she strides to the door and closes it. 

Knowing that Sully is just in the room next door, she lowers her voice, “Kurt managed to get into Paige’s email and I’ve been reading. I found one where she emailed a friend. She was supposed to meet up with a friend at the embassy party together but never showed.” 

You nod your head to show that you understand but it’s not enough information to be able to explain why Paige was murdered so, you request more information. 

“Who? and Why?” Keep it simple. 

Gwen takes about a second before she replies, “A girl named Ariel, and I don’t know why.” 

“Find out why. ‘I don’t know’ is not an answer I’m gonna take.” That sentence leaves your mouth as fast as lightning strikes the Earth’s outermost crust. 

To other people, your reply would’ve been seen as impolite but to you and everyone at the firm, it was just that ‘I don’t know’ wouldn’t get you anywhere in a case. Especially when so much is at stake.

“I won’t be long Gwen. Tell Blair and she’ll go interview the friend.”

Once you arrive at the White House you are led to Timo’s office. It’s nice and spacious, with a window that overlooks a garden. Nellie’s garden. A sour taste forms in your mouth. The garden is small, not as big as Jacqueline Kennedy’s garden but Nellie insisted she needed her own. You were told moments ago that she’d be attending this “meeting” and as much as you dislike it, you can’t help but feel empathy for Nellie. She was nothing but nice to you when Nico hired you as the manager for his campaign. It sucked most that you went not even a month later you started sleeping with her husband. 

The combined noises of clothes rustling and heavy breaths consume the aura of the small hotel room. It’s unbelievable how an innocent dinner between two ‘colleagues’ can turn outright sexual within two hours, but you weren’t complaining. Maybe it was the two glasses of cabernet sauvignon that your unconscious level of operation had convinced you to drink. 

Nico places open-mouthed kisses from behind your ear, down to the spot on your breast that the black lace push-up bra doesn’t cover. The white ironed shirt, that had been covering your bra, had been tossed over your head about 15 minutes ago and the black midi skirt was currently being tugged down your hips. As for Nico, all to go was the baby blue dress shirt he wore, and the black tie. Which had been taken off right when the two of you entered the room. His dark navy blue pants remained on the list of clothes that needed to be discarded.  

You take a second to admire Nico’s disheveled hair. The thought of pulling it with your fingers when he whispers sweet nothing’s into your core flashes across your mind. Nico cuts off that thought once his lips make contact with yours. It’s messy and filled with need. The months of longing stares, mainly from him, were finally catching up. You take notice that your black skirt is now pooled at your feet. You take a step out of them, in a haze, the action bringing you closer to Nico. He steadies you by placing his hands on your hips. His fingertips graze the matching black lace panties you paired with your bra. He smirks into the kiss at the thought of you planning it out. 

Nico takes small steps, notifying you to do the same but backward, and guides you to the small light wooden desk against the wall opposite of the bed. The back of your thighs hit the desk and with a swift motion, Nico grabs you at the waist and sets you to sit on top of it. A quick gasp escapes your naturally pouty lips and with that, Nico gets on his knees. 

Timo snaps you out of that thought fairly quickly, “Well hello, long time no see!”

He’s being sarcastic, but you waste no time to get to the point. 

“I was told Nellie was going to be here. She knows about this?”

Timo nods, acknowledging your words, and replies, “It’s not like how it was during the election. The isolation of the White House bonded them, their marriage is as strong as ever.” 

Before you can react to Timos statement, Nellie comes barging into the room. 

“Y/N!” 

You fake a smile, deep down you could never hate Nellie. No matter how hard you try. “Nellie, hi! How are you doing?!” Faking your enthusiastic response, you can’t help but feel guilty. It wasn’t hard to read Nellie, so you could tell she missed your presence around in the White House. Once Nellie reaches you she engulfs you in a heartwarming hug. She rubs your back and soaks in the moment, reminiscing an old friendship.

You’re the first to step away and once you create a small fragment of distance, Nellie answers your question.

“I’m doing well! It’s taking some time getting used to you not being here but I’m managing. How’s the firm?”

“We’re doing well over there. It’s been busy but I like being occupied…can never get enough of it.” You chuckle at the tiny comment you make and Nellie goes to carry the conversation but comes to a halt when the double doors to Timo’s office open once again. 

You told yourself, on the drive over to the White House, that you would keep things strictly professional but Nico always managed to make that very hard. Not only that, you still deeply cared for the man and he did the same as well. But the moment you saw his face everything you had prepared yourself for had expeditiously faded away. You can’t even process the moment, that he’s here and physically in front of you until he’s shaking your hand. 

The last time you saw Nico was at a charity gala in late June. Five months after you left. You only managed to stay for an hour until everything felt overwhelming. Your chest felt like it was being compressed by an unseen entity, and bile was rising in your throat. Nico had tried his best to talk to you but with Nellie by his side and her pregnancy rumors, he couldn’t. It broke his heart when he saw the tears in your eyes. You’d felt betrayed but also knew that being the President’s mistress meant that you never came first. Even if he lied to you and said that you did. 

“Y/N, It’s good to see you.” He’s keeping it simple. He can’t show too much vulnerability, there are still two people in the room. 

“Likewise, Mr. President.” You drop your hand first from the handshake and look closely at Nico. He shaved two days ago, you can tell by the stubble sitting on the lower half of his face. It has just grown enough to the point where if he could get on his knees in front of you, you’d feel it scratch your inner thighs. 

“Shall we take a walk?” Timo kindly suggests. 

The three of you decide to chat in Jacqueline Kennedy Garden. With the company of two secret service members but you don’t mind. 

It may be January but the pansies are still in season. You walk up and admire the some that are purple. You notice that in the outer part of the petal, they’re royal purple, but towards the center, they’re light purple - almost a lilac color. That would be a nice color for a wedding. You’re too busy admiring the flowers that don’t notice the sound of footsteps approaching until the person has already reached you. It’s Nico. You don’t even need to look to know it’s him. He clears his throat before starting the conversation with you. 

“I know you have your hands full with the Sully St. James situation so, thank you for doing this, for me.” He turns to look at you. God you’ve missed him. 

Timo walks up behind you and the president, the two secret service agents aren’t too far behind. He pulls out a beige file folder and speaks. 

“Her name is Vanessa Wyatt.” You take hold of the folder and open it up. 

“I know.” 

“Well if you let me finish- anyways, she’s 25. I’ve heard rumors that she might be talking.” Timo states and looks off into the distance. It’s nice and sunny outside, but not even for it to take the edge off the cold. You take a look at what she looks like. She must be new, or at least got hired after you resigned. She’s cute but looking at her makes you feel nauseated. You push that feeling aside, it’s best at what you do. 

“But you can’t fire her. At least not without a shit show going off.” Both Timo and Nico nod. Nico has yet to say anything. You find it odd but push that thought aside. You know Nico wouldn’t do this. 

“Look, she hasn’t gone to the press, so best shut it down before she opens her mouth.” Timo’s phone rings and he excuses himself to take the call. It’s just you and Nico. A part of you doesn’t want to ask him the long-awaited question but you still do it anyways.

“I have to ask, did you do it?” You look up at him for the first time after reaching the garden. All you see are his eyes, they’re identical to the color of the way he takes his coffee. 

“No. I would never do that.” Nico pauses but doesn’t break the eye contact. You’re starting to feel light-headed. Your heart wants to believe him but there’s someone in your ear screaming that he isn’t telling the truth. 

“You’ve known me for a long time. Most of my time has been spent with you. You know I would never, ever fall for some girl. You know there’s only one girl I truly love.” He accentuates the last sentence. Only you know he’s talking about you. It’s a secret embedded between the two of you. You feel warm, not the bad kind, but the warm and comfy kind. He knows you need reassurance, he knows you think he’s lying, and he knows that if he did do it, it would be unforgivable. It feels like time is passing by slowly, you’re lost in his pools of melted chocolate-like irises. He never once, looked away. He’s telling the truth. 

“We’re due to be back now!” Looking back, you see Timo. He’s about 15 feet away, but he’s walking towards both Nico and you. 

“I’ll handle it. Consider it handled.” You look away. A burning sensation hits the back of your eye sockets. You feel like crying but you won’t let the tears fall.

Once Timo reaches you he wraps his arms around you and the President’s shoulders. 

“The band is back together!”

One hour. One hour is how much time you had given Gwen to find anything and everything about Vanessa Wyatt and boy did she find something. 

Gwen walks beside you, to your left. The pace you’ve set is fast, it wasn’t like you had all day. You had a firm to run and a man’s destiny in your hands. Vanessa Wyatt was just a fork in the road. You had a plan and with enough convincing, she’d end up on a bus to Wisconsin in the morning.

“You’re acting as my witness. Just shut up and listen to what I say. Do not engage with her.” Both you and Gwen had been following Vanessa around Easy Potomac Park for approximately seven minutes. You took immediate notice that she was accompanied by her dog, a golden retriever. Gwen had whispered something about it being adorable, to you it was an amazing conversation starter, a way to get in, and a vulnerability point for Vanessa. 

Vanessa’s quick to take a seat on a bench, overlooking the Potomac River. You waste no time to walk up to her and Gwen follows suit. “What a cute dog! Golden Retriever?” 

Vanessa takes the bait like a fish dumb enough to take a worm that’s on a fish hook. You’ve already got her right where you want her and you’ve only spoken six words. 

“Yeah haha! His name is Thomas Jefferson, like the President, it’s lame I know! But it suits him surprisingly.” The thought of how naive she is crosses your mind. Was she like that with Nico? You take a seat next to her before carrying on the conversation.

“Vanessa, it would be a mistake to think that there will be no consequences to you telling lies about the President.” Her face falls almost immediately. Gwen gives you a look. Almost like she was surprised herself, she was least expecting you to mention the so-called “affair” this early on in the conversation. To your dismay, Vanessa doesn’t make an effort to start running away yet. Stupid girl. Rather instead she questions you. 

“I never told you my name. Who are you?” She finally turns to get a good look at you. Vanessa notices the pale, off-white pantsuit that’s on your body. It fits you to a tee. 

“My name is Y/N.” You pause for a brief moment then continue your lecture to the younger girl, “And I want to make it clear that I’m not here in an official capacity. I’m here because I’m a

concerned citizen.” Vanessa looks away, tears threatening to fall on her plump, pinky cheeks. She isn’t wearing anything to keep her warm besides a thin coat. 

She mutters another question. “What do you want?” 

Your response leaves your mouth rapidly. “I came to warn you. A girl like you can’t win something like this. In, employment your face will be everywhere. And by everywhere I mean tabloids, newspapers, social media, local news. People are going to associate you with a sex scandal. All kinds of information about you will become available to the press in a heartbeat. For example, the 22 sexual partners you’ve had? What about that case of gonorrhea? Oh and let’s not forget your mothers two year stay at Bedford Hospital.” Everything you say comes out nonchalantly. You pause and take a look at the younger brunette, waiting for a response but she says nothing. You take it as a sign to continue. 

“That’s what I thought. It’s information like that, that could ruin everything for you.” Both you and Gwen take notice of Vanessa. The tears that were threatening to fall, are now halfway down her cheeks. Gwen’s heart breaks for the girl but deep down knows it’s for the best. You, however, could care less. Situations like this, never end up good for the woman involved. 

“He said he loved me. He gave me this dog.” Vanessa manages to utter while shaking her head. Her world feels like it’s falling apart and you stand at the altar watching it happen. 

“You see, it’s lies like those that could hurt you when said to other people. People not as nice as me. Here let me give you some advice, hand in your resignation, pack a bag and your dog, get out of this town, maybe in Wisconsin, and start over. Never look back.” 

You’ve managed to move closer to Vanessa. It’s not a lot but you’re still testing the waters. If you were to ask Gwen, she’s still surprised that Vanessa’s still sitting there. Personally, Gwen would have fled a long time ago. The younger brunette to your right, takes a deep sigh and begs, “Why are you doing this to me?” I’m a good person!” You get the urge to laugh in her face. It doesn’t matter if you’re nice or not, people love to ruin people. She should’ve known this by now. A girl this naive should not be in a town like this.

“You want to know who was also a good person?” You question her and continue, “Monica Lewinsky. And she was telling the truth. But she still got destroyed.” You say it casually and Vanessa doesn’t appreciate it, in the next millisecond, she grabs her dog’s leash and hurries away. Gwen is still standing, she’s shocked, to say the least. 

Turning to Gwen, you start to state, “If you get subpoenaed in front of a grand jury, you can testify as an officer of the court that I was working on my own. I didn’t blackmail or threaten her. If you don’t get subpoenaed, then this never happened.” You walk in the other direction from Vanessa. Gwen takes a moment to follow suit and once you hear Gwen’s footsteps, you take your cell phone out of your coat pocket to dial. 

“It’s handled.”

You are typing away on your keyboard, answering some emails when the doors to your office fly open. It’s Blair and she’s rushing in. You can tell her her brain is going 100 miles per hour when she cheers, “Paige is a whore! She’s a whore!” You shake your head and smile in return, expecting her to say more, and that she does. 

“I had Kurt hack into her message log and she had HUNDREDS and I mean HUNDREDS of text messages with this guy named Tom Henderson. And I know what you’re going to say ‘Go interview him then’ We’ll that’s what I did while you were gone doing god knows what!” She’s starting to get off track but you don’t mind. Blair was a chatterbox at heart. 

“Good news is that Tom spilled his guts the minute I went to ask questions, but he has an air-tight alibi. He was working as a bouncer at a club at the time of the murder. There has got to be like 100 witnesses.” You nod your head and before you can tell Blair anything she continues, again. 

“Oh my god! How could I forget?! Henderson claims that Sully knew that he was sleeping with  his girlfriend.” With that, you waste no time to get out of your chair, and before you can even take a step Neil comes strutting into the room. 

“Even worse news, the gun found in the murder has Sully’s fingerprints all over it. It gives him means.” A small “fuck!” leaves your mouth and you dash towards the double doors that connect your office and another. Pushing open the door, you waste no time to start interrogating Sully. 

“Did you know Paige was sleeping with Tom Henderson?!” You point your finger at him like a mom scolding her child. Sully replies stupidly, “What?”

“Did. You. Know?” Accentuating every word in the question causes Sully to get irritated.

“I hired you! You can’t come in here and talk-” Sully’s cut off by Neil almost immediately. You let him overpower the situation by walking away. Your mind is running, trying to think what the possibilities could be.

“Yes, she can! She can do whatever the hell she wants! Without her, you would be in jail right now!” Things are starting to escalate quickly between you three. Blair is just observing what’s happening. You decided to ask one more time even though you hate repeating yourself. 

“Did you know Paige was sleeping with Tom?” The tone that you ask him is softer, things are starting to get real and if you don’t get to the bottom of this, Sully could be going to jail for 20 years to life.

Sully answers your question, “Yes, but I didn’t kill her!” Your mind shuts everything out once he answers your question. Neil and Blair start conducting a plan that you have no care for right now. Deciding to walk away from all the chaos, you manage to bump into the one person you least expect. Vanessa, with Gwen following behind. 

“Oh, what the hell!”

“I want you to give him a message!” You stare Gwen down, scolding her with your eyes for even letting Vanessa in, in the first place. 

“That is not appropriate.” You take ahold of Vanessa’s upper left bicep, Gwen the other, and quickly guide her out of the firm. She tries to go with a fight but your grip doesn’t let her escape. You open the front door to the firm, giving Vanessa access to leave but she makes it clear that you hear what she has to say. “Not appropriate? You came to me and I know he sent you! I know you can give him a message! I’m telling the truth! I am!” 

“This conversation is over. Please leave.”

You’re barely coming down with your high from the previous chaos when David Rosen, the US attorney general walks into your building. 

“Times up, Y/N. I have a warrant.” He’s holding up white papers, stapled together. He’s here to take Sully into custody but luckily for you, David arrived earlier than expected. 

“I still have 40 minutes.” You bark at David, taking a look at your watch. Turning your back to him, you reach the conference doors.

“You can wait in the lobby by all means.” You suggest to David. Maybe he’ll listen to you once and for all. 

“Fine, but in 40 minutes I want Sully St. James in custody.” He huffs out. 

Meanwhile, you try to find Gwen. Once you see her in the conference room you have her call Blair, to let her know that you’ve officially been invaded and time is running out to find Sully a viable alibi. 

Blair, Neil, and Kurt walk through the front doors exactly 7 minutes before David is supposed to be arrested. Blair comes in hot, Neil and Kurt trailing behind her. She’s holding a flash drive and gives you a rundown of what that flash drive material contains. You take no longer than 3 seconds to head your way to the conference room where Sully St. James is currently seated. You tread the water lightly, not wanting to anger him when approaching the situation. 

“We don’t have much time, Sully,” you start with, “the police are here so I need you to listen.” Blair, Kurt, Neil, and Gwen slowly enter the room with you. Most of the time, when debriefing with a client, there’s always someone else with you. In this case, all of them. 

“We were able to verify your alibi.” Sully’s reaction doesn’t surprise you. Confusion shadows over his face. Almost like he didn’t even know how or who verified his alibi. 

“You were?” He looks around the room after he questions you. All eyes are on him and everyone can tell that he’s realizing that his secret is no secret anymore. You nod in response to his question. 

“That’s.. that’s a good thing, right?” He’s playing dumb and you’re catching along. You open your mouth to start a lecture. 

“Sully, you’re the most decorated hero since the Vietnam War, you come from a family of well-respected soldiers, you make your living giving speeches for the conservative right, and you’ve said over and over, that Paige was your best friend. Not your lover.” Your eyes never leave him during the duration of your speech, but when they do you signal Blair to turn on the TV and plug the flash drive into it. Once she does, a video starts to play. It’s from a security camera at an ATM, that so happened to be next to the bar Sully had been seen at before the murder. In the video, Sully St. James is seen standing on the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, pacing. He’s waiting for someone. Just on cue, a man in his mid to late 20s is seen approaching Sully. Once he gets his hands on Sully, he kisses him with passion. Almost like lovers who are reuniting for the first time after months of being apart. The room is silent up until the video shows the two grown men kissing. Sully’s breath starts to pick up, he’s infuriated. 

“Paige knew, didn’t she?” You already knew the answer to that but still needed the clarification. You were never one to go based on assumptions. Sully doesn’t respond so you continue, “She knew you were gay, the two of you had a deal.” Sully speaks up for the first time in 3 minutes. 

“You can’t show anyone that.” Disregarding what he said, you ask, “I need the name of the man that you were kissing.”

“Over my dead body! I serve my country. I honor the uniform! I am a conservative man. Everything I stand for is anti-gay. I am the deacon of my church! They’re talking about me running for Congress one day. I’m a hero. I can’t be gay.” His demeanor starts off hostile but then shuts down and he manages to whisper the last remark. 

“But you are. This is who you are.” You point to the TV which had been paused at a time frame where Sully and his secret lover were engaged in a kiss. “This is your alibi. Let us help you.” You walk over to the couch that Sully is seated at and crouch next to him. You and Sully are the only two who have spoken a word so far. Everyone else is watching the scene unfold in front of their eyes. 

Sully stands up straight and looks ahead of him. With one small word, he answers you. 

“No.” You stand, but before you can mutter a word he turns around and heads out the conference room doors. You don’t pay attention as to whether everyone follows you but you follow Sully out. Demanding him to wait but to no avail, he doesn’t listen. Once he opens the firm’s front doors, he is met with David Rosen. 

The bright ceiling lights are the cause of the forming headache across your temples. To say that everything that happened in the past 28 hours is ridiculous would be an understatement. Neil and Blair are at the police station with you. By the time Sully St. James had his mugshot taken, you got a text message from Gwen. You managed to mutter an ‘I have to go’ and frantically left. Having left instructions for Neil and Blair just in case anything happened with Sully. 

Being told, by Gwen, that Vanessa Wyatt was in the hospital and she was going to see her was just the cherry on top. You wasted no time to get there as fast as you could. It was 7 pm by the time you entered the hospital door, exhaustion hitting you like a ton of bricks. Getting into bed sounds much better than having sex. 

Gwen is standing outside of Vanessa’s hospital room when you get there. You greet her then immediately ask, “What happened?” You take a look at Gwen and she genuinely seems worried for the girl who’s in the hospital bed, clearly sedated. 

Gwen explains, “She slashed her wrists. There’s no press lurking around but one of the nurses told me her dad’s flying in from Michigan.” 

You double-check with Gwen, just to make sure that there is no possible threat. “No nurses or doctors, about anything?” Gwen shakes her head, her ponytail moving along with her head, and responds shortly. 

“Just to me.”

“Good stay with her.” You turn to leave, regretting to have even come in the first place. A simple phone call would have been fine. Before you take a step Gwen takes ahold of your upper arm and blurted your name. 

“Y/N! You told me to trust my gut when I first got hired, and now my gut is telling me that she is telling the truth-” You cut off Gwen to share what you think. 

“She’s not.” You keep it short and sweet. Nico told you that he didn’t do it and you believe him. Your heart believes him. He said he loved you and you were the only girl he’s ever loved. 

“I know the President, Gwen. He wouldn’t do this.” You’re starting to become stern since Gwen is being persistent about something that could never, ever possibly be true. 

“I just find it weird that she was going on and on about how there’s this secret room off the Oval Office where they’ve met, and I’ve read about the White House. There is a little room.”

You waste no time to state the obvious. “If you read it, she read it. People are crazy Gwen. They love to get fixated on famous people and stalk them.” 

“But I don’t think she’s crazy.” If you didn’t have any love for Gwen you probably would’ve smacked her for continuing to run her mouth. Since you do care for her deeply, you demand her to tell you why she thinks that. “Why?”

“Okay, she tried to take her life but she didn’t want to die. She called you right after she did it because she wanted him to find out she was hurt and come see her. She thought he would do that.” Gwen rambles everything out in one go as if she’s already rehearsed this conversation in her head. 

“Gwen-”

“She was going on and on about how she thought he’d come to see her and call her some stupid little German word.” You start to doze off but your ears perk up like a dog that hears a siren from a mile away when she mentions the word German. 

“What?” 

Gwen’s face scrunches up and tilts her head to the side at your remark. She’s questioning you and doesn’t even need to open her mouth. 

“Repeat yourself.” You try to tell yourself that you heard something completely different. How pathetic. 

“Oh! He’d call her a German word, she said it means treasure or something. Why does it ma-” You cancel out the rest of Gwen’s sentence and scurry away. Your legs start working independently and lead you down the hospital corridor. Gwen calls out your name in response, but you pay no mind to it. The pit in your stomach is probably the size of a football and it doesn’t help that bile is rising in your throat and everything feels hazy. Betrayal wasn’t something new to you but coming from someone who expected the same loyalty from you was gutwrenching.

Sometimes you think it’s crazy how much authority you still have in the White House because you simply do not work there anymore. Nonetheless, it comes in handy, in instances like these. Rose, the President’s Secretary, leads you the way into the Oval Office in a matter of seconds. It didn’t take much convincing, just a quick “It’s an emergency”. Once Rose opens the first of 3 doors that connect the Oval Office to the White House, you step inside. Walking up to the set of couches that sit in the middle of the room, to set your purse down, you notice Nico isn’t at his desk. Matter of fact he isn’t anywhere in the room. With that, you question Rose about Nico’s whereabouts.

“Where is he?” You expect her to go into detail, whether it’s a meeting or at dinner with Nellie. But Rose never does. Instead, she gives a simple answer. 

“It’ll just be a moment.” With that, Rose walks out and shuts the door behind her. 

It doesn’t take long for Nico to come walking through the door, Timo trailing right behind, but when he does, you notice his attire. He’s wearing a bowtie. Which only means he has something important going on. 

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Disregarding his question, you plea to him with your eyes. He notices the quiver of your lip and how tears threaten to leave your eyes. Nico senses something is up. 

“We’re gonna need the room, please.” He demands Timo. Nico’s eyes never leave yours. Almost as if there is a magnetic pull to the two of you. Timo stands there dumbfoundedly and questions the President. 

“But, Nico you have to give that toast to the President of Mexico in 10 minutes. Maybe this could wait until after?” Nico’s eyes finally leave yours. He turns to Timo and repeats himself. 

“I said we need the room,” Nico demands almost instantly. That being so, Timo lowers his head, and his hand reaches to the door handle so he can close the door behind him. Once Nico hears the click of the door shutting fully closed he whispers your name. You take no time to finally repeat the word you know Gwen was talking about. 

“Schatzli, huh?” The word rolls off your tongue as if it’s venom. It makes you want to curl up into a ball and never be seen again. Nico turns to you and you repeat the word of endorsement like it’s a chant. You’re angry and Nico knows it. With that, Nico points up ahead. There sits a security camera that overlooks the majority of the room. Watching your every move. Nico knows he can’t have a conversation about Vanessa knowing he’s being recorded. Good thing he was a smart man. During the first week after his inauguration, he managed to find out that the camera doesn’t record past his desk. So the pair of you had rendezvous against the large crystalline window that overlooks Nellie’s garden and a patio. Countless times. 

Nico guides you to stand in front of the window with a simple, “Come here.” To that, you obey. As to why? You don’t even know the answer to that considering all you see is rage. You reach him, keeping your distance but still out of the security camera’s view. Disgust and humiliation still sits on your face, never intended to leave soon. 

Nico is the first to speak amongst you two. “You left me.” He can’t even look you in the eye when he finally admits the truth. A man who lies is always a coward. 

“Because you are married! You said you wanted to dedicate yourself to your marriage! I wanted you to be a better man and be the man that I campaigned for-” Nico cuts you off by slowly taking steps towards you. You don’t need to be a genius to know what he’s doing. 

“Do not touch me.” You planned for it to come out stern but ended up sounding like a hurt duckling. But that you were. The look in Nico’s eye confirms that he was not listening to you. Instead of him pleading for you to hear him out, he steps even closer. Once he reaches you, his hands rest upon your hips. His body aching to make contact with yours. Your body is pressed up against the large window with another step. Nico’s eyes stare down at you, faces only mere inches apart. The pair of you already know where the next thing leads to but you’re not letting him go that easily.

Before his lips can make contact with yours, you push at his chest to get him off of you. Putting all force you can conjure into the shove. You turn around and before you can think your right hand makes contact with his left cheek with a hard smack!

“I believed you! You clouded my judgment! I wanted to believe you because I love you and THIS is what you do to me? She tried to kill herself! Did you know she’s lying in a hospital bed because she slashed her wrists open? I destroyed that girl-” Everything happens too fast and you can’t even see through the tears that started falling just moments ago. Nico finally dared to walk up to you and kiss you. His right hand has ahold of the back of your neck. While the other is on your upper arm, keeping you in place. It takes less than a second for you to come to terms with what’s happening. As mad as you are at Nico, you couldn’t help but feel the need to return the kiss. Your internal dialogue screams at you to stop. To step away and never talk to him again. 

The kiss is slow and passionate, Nico doesn’t want to rush into anything further because he knows you won’t hesitate to take a step back and slap him again. You had the balls no one ever did. Before Nico can gain access to your mouth with his tongue, one of the doors is swung open. 

“I just want to let you know that we can hear you yelling.” By the time Timo shuts the door, Nico and you have created a small fragment of distance away from each other. The satin pinky nude lipstick you wore, transferred onto Nico’s lips. Your hair is a bit disheveled and the pair of you are out of breath. Timo was a smart man so it didn’t take much for him to recognize what was happening behind closed doors. Timo clears his throat before he speaks. 

“Mr. President, I recommended you go wash up.” Timo puts his hands in his pockets and refuses to look you in the eye. 

“Timo-”

“No. You have lipstick on your mouth. You have a toast to give. Go. Now.” With that, Nico obeys and leaves the room, not even looking back towards you. Timo and you bask in a moment of silence. You stand there like a doe who has yet to learn how to walk. The feeling of embarrassment is an understatement to say at least. In times like these, where Timo puts his foot down, it makes you feel like a child being scolded for writing on the wall with markers. 

Timo walks up to the President’s desk and admires the picture he has of the three of you. It was the day of Nico’s inauguration, the picture was taken right after Nico’s speech. Timo wishes things could go back to the way they were. 

“Oh mein gott,” Timo mutters under his breath. After the past two years of knowing Timo, you’d expect that he knew about the affair. 

“You didn’t know? He tells you everything.” You scoff. Nico and Timo are close. Like brothers, who manage to piss each other off all day every day but that doesn’t get in the way of Nico telling Timo every personal detail that goes on in his life. 

“He didn’t tell me this.” He shakes his head and looks down at his feet. 

You wipe a tear that cascades down your left cheek and  quickly mutter, “Because it didn’t matter.” In disbelief, you walk towards the couch, reaching for your purse. Feeling the sudden need to get out of the one place you do not wish to be at. Timo tries to grab at your wrist, tries to talk you into staying but you’re too fast enough for him to get a good grip. Once you reach the door, you adjust your purse and push the straps up against your shoulder blade. You take a deep breath, fighting the urge to stay. Alas, your right hand makes contact with the gold door knob and you twist and push the door open. With every last bit of courage you have, you step out of the Oval Office with your head up high. You’ve got a man to get out of jail.

[doodle-pops]

The First Snowfall

Elrond x fem!reader

Request: Hello, Mina! Wish and hope that you're doing good and fine right now! 😊 I'm really overjoy that you openning request! Sooooooo, would I request Elrond and reader NSFW sexy time after celebrating winter festival please? It could be kinky smut or fluffy smut, and headcanons or a fic ; please choose these which you are seeing fit, proper, and willingness. 😁 Thank you so much in advance! Have a super great weekend 🥰🧡 – @septimaseverina

A/N: This is by far the softest smut I’ve probably written out of all the smut I’ve done. It was such a huge difference, in a nice way, to write something so gentle and soft.

Warnings: smut, fem!reader, soft sex, bondage, soft dom!Elrond, cunnilingus, fingering

Words: 3.6k

Synopsis: They say that every year during the first snowfall, something magical happens. And with Elrond’s hectic schedule, ensuring that everything was in place for the winter festivities, you were planning for his ‘personal’ magical snowfall.

The fire crackled softly in Elrond’s chambers, casting a warm glow that danced along the walls and ceiling, illuminating the faint shimmer of frost on the windows. The first snowfall of the year had blanketed Rivendell, and though the world outside was muted and cold, the air inside the room was bustling with anticipation, thick enough to make your breath hitch every so often. However, it wasn’t only the anticipation and the coldness of the atmosphere doing such a splendid job. It was preferably the artistic skills your body was adorned in for the last twenty minutes.

You sat perched in the middle of the bed, your legs neatly tucked beneath you, the soft silk ribbons biting gently into your skin. The crimson fabric wrapped delicately around your curves, clinging in all the right places to highlight your beauty and the right places to look, barely covering anything of great importance. The ribbon was straining against your chest with every heave you took as the seconds ticked by, stretching against the swells of your breasts, pushing them together in a tantalising display. The peaks of your hardened nipples pressing visibly against the smooth fabric. Below, the ribbons were wrapped expertly around your thighs, teasingly close to your pussy where the dampness had already soaked and stained a huge portion of the ribbon.

You were sure that it might snap should another minute or two pass and he had not shown up at the rate you were leaking. Shifting slightly, a shiver ran down your spine at the gentle contact of the ribbon brushing against your outer lips like a feathered touch. The silky material brushed and rubbed against your skin in a way that sent a pulse of ecstasy straight to your core. You couldn’t help but glance towards the doors every few seconds, heart fluttering at the thought of him walking in to find you like this. Within his responsibilities as Lord of Rivendell, you knew it had been long and taxing for the winter festivities. But tonight, this night, you intended to give him something more than a reprieve. Something just as magical as the first snowfall. Hence, why you had left him a simple note on the study desk, written in your finest calligraphy.

“Your final gift awaits you in your chambers. Come unwrap it when you are ready.”

The moments stretched out endlessly, your senses heightened as you listened for any sign of his approach. Every distant footstep, every faint creak seemed louder in the silence, setting your heart racing. The fire flickered over your bare skin, painting you in shades of gold and crimson. Would he be surprised? Would he laugh? Or would his usual calm, composed demeanour melt into something far more unabashed?

As you took a few more deep breaths to centre your mind and prepare for what was about to unfold tonight, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. They echoed softly down the hall, each step brisk but calculated, increasing your anticipation and leading to a fresh flow of your juices soaking the ribbon further. You sat a little straighter, the bow nestled on your thigh tugged against your skin.

The door quietly opened, and there he was, framed in the doorway. Elrond’s eyes were locked onto yours immediately, his expression was a perfect balance of curiosity and warmth. He was still dressed in his formal attire, his dark robes draped elegantly over his broad shoulders, though his hair was slightly tousled from the long day. His gaze moved slowly, deliberately travelling from your face down to the crimson ribbons wrapped around your body. His eyes darkened slightly as they took in every detail—the way the silk clung to your breasts, the delicate bow that rested on your thigh, and the glistening evidence of your arousal visible against the inner of your thighs.

For a moment, the room was utterly silent, save for the crackling of the fire. Then, his lips curved into a small, knowing smile, one that sent a rush of heat to your cheeks and your core alike. He wasn’t helping with the ribbon staying intact.

“So,” he smoothly intrigued, “this is the special gift I was promised?”

You smiled feeling your cheeks ready to pop from the heat and pressure of maintaining a composed expression. Steady your gaze, you met his eyes head-on. “Happy First Snowfall, my lord,” you purred. “I thought you deserved something…personal. Something only you could unwrap.”

Stepping further into the room, he shut the door behind him with a soft click. His movements were unhurried, deliberate, as though he was savouring every moment of this revelation. His eyes never left yours as he approached, the sheer hunger in his gaze making you squirm against the ribbons as you pressed your thighs together to calm the growing ache. When he reached the foot of the bed, he paused, looking down at you with an expression that was equal parts amusement, admiration and barely restrained desire.

“You’ve outdone yourself,” he murmured while his fingers reached out to trail along the edge of one of the ribbons wrapping your arm. The gentle brush of his touch prompted goosebumps to rise, and he chuckled softly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I’ve received many gifts over the years, but none quite so…unique.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his hand moved to the bow on your thigh, his fingers ghosting over the delicate silk. “I wanted to make this snowfall magical for you,” you whispered, “You’ve been so busy, so focused on everyone else’s happiness. Tonight is for you, so you’ll have to unwrap me carefully.”

His expression softened, though his eyes never left yours as he knelt on the bed. “Carefully, you say?” Elrond’s voice was tender as he leaned closer, with painstaking care, his fingers tugged at the bow on your thigh, unravelling the ribbon with a patience that was both maddening and intoxicating. The way the silk slid against your skin as he pulled it free left you trembling and leaning into his touch for more. “If I am to unwrap this gift properly, it will require my full attention.”

His words prompted another flow of your juices, this time, with the absence of the bow and the ribbon, it was more pronounced to Elrond’s eyes as they were fixated on the sight. He gave a soft hum, his approval evident in the way his hands slid up your thighs until he stopped at the junction of your thigh and hip. His thumb rubbed the area teasingly, watching as the slickness grew and coated your thighs aggressively. He knew the moment he parted your legs—the sight would be unlike any other.

“Beautiful,” he murmured and leaned down to kiss the junction of your leg thigh, smiling against the natural jump of your nerves. He moved slowly, unwrapping you piece by piece, his hands warm and steady as they worked. Each ribbon came undone and revealed more of your body under the glow of the fire. The silk slid away from your breasts, and your nipples, already hardened from anticipation, were met with the cool air and the heat of Elrond’s hungry gaze. He paused for a moment, his eyes lingering on the curve of your chest before he leaned in, his lips brushing against the sensitive peak with a kiss that made you gasp.

If only your wrists were not still bound, you would cradle him right there as his tongue flicked over the bud, his mouth warm and persistent. “Elrond,” you sighed and pushed your chest outwards for him to continue. He didn’t reply, his actions were speaking louder than his words as he continued his exploration, his hands roaming over your now-unbound body with reverent care as he pushed you to lie against the bed.

With your wrists still bound and between your bodies, while his mouth continued its ministrations, you clawed at his clothes, pulling him closer, and your legs unfolded to wrap around his waist. He seemed to be in no hurry to untie your wrists when he pulled away from your spit-slicked nipples, glancing down at your hands that tugged at his attire. A smirk formed on his lips as he recognised the desperation to have his skin against yours—you despised the sensation of clothes against your naked skin.

“You are exquisite. Far too exquisite to be hurried,” he darkly whispered as his hands pulled away from your thighs to unfasten his robes. When his robes fell away, revealing the lean, tones from beneath, you instinctively licked your lips and reached out to run your fingers down his taunt stomach, loving the way he clenched under your touch.

Chuckling at his reaction, he wasted no time swooping down to lock lips with you for the first time tonight. As he settled between your legs and hooked your thighs around his waist, you gasped at the contact of his hardened cock against your wet folds, which allowed him to slip his tongue past your lips to deepen the kiss. His hands reached up to brace beside your head, fingers curling into the pillows as he breathed in your air from the intensity of the kiss. You could feel the tension in his shoulders slowly melting as the kiss progressed.

Yet, he didn’t stop there. Breaking the kiss, his mouth trailed lower, kissing and nipping at your skin. Starting from your jaw, his mouth worked all the way down your neck, shoulders and collarbone, till he was littering them in a line down your navel. Your fingers curled into his gossamer strands as he dipped lower, your stomach flipping, until he pressed the first kiss atop your mound. It was here when he adjusted himself between your legs, throwing them over his shoulders as he made himself comfortable to deliver the first swipe of his tongue.

“You’re already so wet,” he groaned as he took his time running his tongue through your folds. “And I’ve barely done anything.”

“Ah—” Your voice was cut off by the second swipe of his tongue through your folds from top to bottom as he collected all your arousal on his tongue, humming and moaning at how good you tasted. He took his time exploring you, his tongue dipping into your entrance as it curled and plunged itself deeper into your wet, slick heat. The lewd sounds of his mouth moving against your pussy mixed with your heavy panting as your back arched off the bed and your hips grounded into his face. He seemed to have no issue at all as you took your pleasure, glad to retract his tongue and flick it over your clit, eliciting a cry of his name.

Grinning against you, his tongue swirled around your nub, flicking and giving it small tugs with his mouth as he sucked it between his lips and released it with a small pop. His right hand left your skin to join his mouth, sliding two fingers into your heat and curling them against your sweet spot as he gently thrust them in and out. There wasn’t any need for him to rush the moment, not when you appeared so beautifully spread out like this, moaning his name.

He took his time circling his tongue around your clit while his fingers curled and plunge in and out your pussy, enjoying the way your walls clenched around him as though you were giving him tiny kisses. The desire to keep him within your walls was grave as you consistently kept sucking him further in. Even your thighs were doing a fine job at squeezing his head, keeping him in place, though, he remained unbothered, accustomed to the squeeze.

“E-Elrond…please,” you whined as you shifted your hips against his face, your fingers digging into his scalp as you tugged his hair.

“Patience, meleth–nîn,” he whispered against your folds as he pulled back, his fingers still pumping at his preferred, sluggishly pace, and looked up at your drunken state. Placing a kiss on your inner thigh, his mouth returned to your clit while he kept his eyes on you. The way your back arched and your nipples hardened, or how your head tossed backwards, and your jaw slackened at certain pressures. Sometimes if he gave a particularly harsh suck or rubbed his fingers against your sweet spot, your thighs would squeeze his head and your toes would curl, his name turning into raspy pleas.

However, even he couldn’t take the wait any longer, your cries and pleas for him becoming unbearable as his cock ached and leaked.

At the sudden removal of his fingers from your pussy, you whined but were quickly silenced by Elrond’s mouth descending on yours. The taste of your arousal on his tongue as he slipped it past your lips to draw out every sweet sound you always made for him. While his tongue coaxed you to relax, his fingers unbound the ribbon around your wrists, groaning when your nails latched onto his back and headed lower to run his cock through your folds. His head teasingly pressed against your entrance, the pressure creating an undeniable ache that refused to go away. As he pushed forward, he slipped through your folds, his head catching on your clit and rubbing against the already sensitive nub, leading you to moan into the kiss.

“S-stop teasing me, Elrond.” You pouted, pressing your heel into his lower back to inch him closer while your nails curled into his shoulders. “I was nice to give a present without any games.”

“The first snowfall is meant to be savoured, meleth–nîn.” He grinned against your lips, locking eyes with your pouty ones and nudging his nose against yours.

And to savour it, he did. When he stopped his teasing, the intrusion of his head pushing past your walls caused you to go silent in his arms. There wasn’t a word or sound slipping from your mouth as he slid the rest of his cock in, slowly enjoying the way your walls hugged him like a blanket. The gentle stretch wasn’t overwhelming, nor was his weight. It was just right. And when he finally bottomed out, all the way to the hilt, the silence was disrupted by a loud groan from you.

“You feel so good every time,” Elrond groaned, resting his forehead against yours while your body shivered under him. The coolness of your skin against the warmth of his half-human and elven nature was a soothing touch that sent ripples across both your skins. Your nipples hardened and pressed against his chest as he displaced more weight atop you, pressing you into the bed.

Gripping onto him for dear life, your sighs were turned into breathless pleads. “Elrond…please move,” you breathed against his lips, and he obeyed.

The first snap of his hips was gentle, earning a soft moan from you both as he set the pace for the night. As gentle and tender as his thrusts were, each one plunged his cock into the depths of your walls, prompting your juices to abundantly overflow and spill onto his cock, creating a smooth, frictionless slide of his cock. Each thrust reverberated sweetly throughout the room followed by the sound of a wet kiss and moaning as you and Elrond were locked in a heated kiss.

Your nails were raking down his back, doing everything to pull him closer as your bodies danced against one another. You felt his hands slide off your thighs and upwards to grip your arms and pin them beside your head. Easily, his finger intertwined with yours as he pulled his head back, breaking the kiss to look into your hazy eyes. You were gripping him tightly, both your hands and your pussy, clenching around him with each thrust he sent your way. He moved with a rhythm that was both gentle and relentless that left you breathless.

The fluttering of your eyes with each roll of his hips, or the slight pause he would display while grinding the tip of his cock against your sweet spot, earning him a loud groan. He was enjoying the tiny kisses that coated his cock as he pushed himself deeper, missing and relishing in the sensation of your walls massaging him and bringing that special warmth needed during such cold times.

When he sent a particularly harsh thrust your way before slowing down to grind, your jaw slackened, and eyes shut as soft whimpers fluttered out. “Does it feel good, meleth?” he purred, repeatedly grounding his hips and enjoying the fluttering of your walls around him. “Look at how well you’re taking me…as always.”

At his words, your pussy clenched tightly around his cock, milking him as he pushed deeper with each thrust. Your pussy throbbed, overwhelmed by the sensation of his ministrations, the constant friction sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, making your back arch against his chest. Your nipples rolled deliciously against his toned, sweaty pectorals, sliding smoothly against his skin. In return, Elrond’s groans and moans echoed sweetly in your ear as he chased his own orgasm at the sensation of yours approaching.

Every sound he made, caused your pussy to flutter, another gush of slick oozing out around his cock, soaking his length. Elrond groaned at the feeling, his thrusts becoming harder, deeper, as he chased the sensation of the tight walls gripping him.

“I missed…this,” you panted as you leaned into him for a kiss, breathing into his mouth. “I missed how g-good you feel in me…ngh.” Smiling into the kiss, your voice broke into high-pitched moans as his cock pushed further into your pussy, relentlessly.

One of his hands released yours and wedged between your bodies to rub your clit erratically. Your body shivered under his touch, arching into him, searching for more. “Always good to me, aren’t you, meleth?” he breathed heavily against your lips, head dipping to run kisses along your jaw and down your neck to meet the junction. “You’re always there for me. So perfect.”

His movements became more intense at the sensation of your walls tightening around him, his fingers applying more pressure to your clit. “Look at me,” he continued and raised his head to your level, nudging his nose against yours. “I want to see you when you fall apart for me. Let me see how beautiful you look.”

You couldn’t resist his command. He spoke with such reverence and tenderness; you couldn’t deny his sweet calls.

Meeting his gaze, your breath hitched at the sight of how dark his eyes had become as they bore into yours with adoration and hunger. Being under his gaze placed your entire body on fire as he continued to push you over the edge. The urge to shut your eyes and throw your head backwards was tempting—his gaze was full of passion, too much to handle in the tender moment. Yet, you tried to meet him head-on with your lips parted, eyes hazy and breathless gasps as your orgasm built. He was working you over the edge.

“E-Elrond…close. I’m c-close,” you struggled, digging your hand into his biceps and clinging to him as your impending walls were prepared to topple over. “E-Elrond…”

“I know, meleth. And I want you to cum for me,” he hummed lowly with hunger. “Let me feel you. Let go for me.”

That was the final straw that held your dams together as you released a desperate cry, your body tensed, your pussy clamping down around his cock as your orgasm, crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your back arched, eyes rolling into your head, your toes curling as your warmth soaked his cock. Elrond groaned at the sensation, releasing a visible shudder as his cock twitched inside you as he was unable to hold out any longer and spilt his warm cum into your pussy as deeply as he could. The warmth spreading through your body left you trembling and gasping for breath. Slowing his thrusts to ride out both your highs and pushing his cum deeper, as he guided you through the waves of your pleasure.

Your body was slump against the bed, the sheet sticking to your sweaty skin, as a blissful smile crossed your features. There was a gentle weight being displaced atop you for a moment as Elrond slumped against your body. His arms cradled your sides, after releasing your hand, fingers running up and down your waist as he calmed his erratic heartbeat. At the moment, your fingers laced through his hair, scratching against his scalp, which urged him to melt under your actions.

“You’re so good to me, meleth–nîn,” he sweetly whispered and pressed a kiss to your heart. Looking up, his eyes had softened, the gentle shades of brown returning, as he flashed you a warm smile. “I love you.”

Returning the same level of affection within your smile, you craned your neck to kiss his sweaty forehead, brushing his dark brown strands out of his face. “And I love you too, Elrond. It’s what you deserve.”

“You make the first snowfall enjoyable and worthwhile. Thank you.” He smiled against your chest, his fingers continued tracing patterns along your waist as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. For once, he could forget about the world and enjoy the comfort the festive season brought.

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[hoonieyun]

now playing...

when the sun hits - slowdive

pairing: lee heeseung x reader x sim jaeyun

warnings: profanity, some really angsty shit, talks about mental health, reliving trauma, 18+

wc: 2303

pls ignore timestamps and possible typos lol - please make sure you read the written parts to fully understand the whole story!

you were more nervous than you thought, your leg bounced rapidly as you waited for heeseung as at your agreed upon location. 

the sound of your platform boots making a rhythmic tapping sound on the floor was all you could hear as you patiently waited for heeseung to arrive, you never even fully processed if this was a good idea but after talking with manon and jen; you were about 75 percent- wait no. 60 percent sure this was a good idea. the three of you weighed the pros and cons and ultimately you decided that you should meet with heeseung. if only they knew that you had also agreed to meet with jake later tonight but that was something you could just explain at a later time. 

so here you are now, staring at your cappucino that has long become cold, the ripples in the coffee nonstop as your leg continues to bounce and lightly bump the table you were sitting at. you chose a spot somewhere in the back corner of the cafe, for privacy reasons and just in case the conversation takes a turn for the worse; there was another exit in the back you could just run out of. 

you’re too focused on trying to figure out what you wanted to say to heeseung that you hadn’t even realized he was standing in front of you until he was setting down his own drink next to yours on the table. 

“hey, sorry did i startle you?” heeseung asks and you shake your head but you probably did look startled since you were so deep in thought you didn’t even notice his presence. you motion for him to take a seat and he gives you a tight lipped smile and a nod before pulling out his chair and sitting across from you. 

“you look good.” heeseung says just above a whisper; like he was testing the waters on what he could say without getting a reaction out of you that he wanted to avoid. 

“thanks, i’ve definitely looked better. you look good too!” you respond, trying to lighten the mood with a small chuckle to which heeseung returns with a laugh of his own. 

it’s felt like eternity since you heard his laugh and you’d be lying if you say that the sound of his laughter didn’t sting just a bit. it makes you think about all of the good times together and how those moments have now been shrouded by all of the toxic and emotional mess that you two got into the last few months of your relationship. you wished you could go back, truly. 

but you weren’t sure that the outcome would be any different if you did. 

heeseung clears his throat when he’s noticed you’ve begun to space out; “i see you still zone out pretty often.” heeseung mutters and you look up at him with wide eyes like you’ve just gotten caught. 

“sorry i just-” you begin to say but heeseung places his hand over yours on the table when he sees the tremble in your fingers. “it’s okay, you don’t need to apologize.” and the feeling of his hand over yours seems to bring you a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in so long, especially from heeseung. you manage to calm down and steady your breathing thanks to heeseung. 

“mind if i start first?” heeseung asks and you nod. 

“i know i can go on and on about how terrible of a boyfriend i was, hell, how terrible of a person i was truthfully; but i don’t think that’s productive. 

i’d rather tell you about how good i’ve been doing and that i plan to stay this way. i’ve only been in therapy for like a month or so but it’s really helped. honestly, i always knew that i was a little messed up here” heeseung says, lighty knocking on his head garnering a small giggle from you to which he smiles at when he hears your laugh. 

“therapy has helped me realize a lot of stuff i wish i knew sooner so that i could’ve been the person that made you happy instead of miserable and i can’t take back anything i said or did but i just want you to know that i’m not that person any more. 

sorry, i mean that i am that person and i will always be that person and i need to take ownership of my behavior but i refuse to be that person any longer even if that was who i was in the past. 

im really sorry for everything i did and i know i know a simple apology isn’t going to do anything but i hope we’re in each other's lives in the future so you can see how much i’ve changed because i couldn’t imagine a life without you. 

even if it’s just to admire from afar. i’d like to be in your life…”

a single tear falls onto the surface of the table and that’s when you realize you’re crying. you weren’t utterly sure why his words had this effect on you but hearing heeseung be this sincere, compassionate, and vocal about his emotions in a healthy way made you cry. you could tell he meant it because his eyes have become glossy and this was the first time you and heeseung had a conversation about your relationship and emotions without it instantly turning into a screaming fest. 

“thank you for saying that heeseung…” you begin to say, taking a deep breath before continuing. 

“i’d be lying if i said that these last few months haven’t been hard, because they’ve been shit. it wouldn’t be fair to put all of that blame on you so i’m sorry that i’ve made you feel like you were the root of all of our problems. 

i know i’ve said hurtful things in the past and i think- sorry i know that they were all from a place of hurt but hurt people shouldn’t hurt people. so im sorry that i didn’t do my part as not only a girlfriend but as your friend to be kinder to us both.

i’m so grateful that you care enough to articulate your emotions in the way that you did and if i’m being honest i’m pleasantly surprised. i can tell how much you’ve grown in this short time and i’m happy that you’re going to continue to grow and want to grow.

i think being in each other’s lives to witness our growth is a good idea…” you respond and heeseung’s eyes light up; like he had just heard you say you love him again and although you didn’t it was something. 

“really?” heeseung asks eagerly

“but-” 

“oh…” heeseung’s voice drops low at your response. 

“i think i still need time to myself. this conversation is making me realize a lot of things and even if it’s resolving some of our issues i don’t think it’s fixed everything. 

maybe in a few months from now when we’ve both gotten the chance to do some more healing, we can start over but not right now…” you explain and you watch heeseung’s eyes lose their shine. 

“i understand… i really do appreciate you coming to talk to me. i didn’t expect you to even want to see me in person.” he says. 

“yeah, i didn’t expect it either.” you respond causing the both of you to laugh. 

as you part ways, you take one look back at heeseung as he continues to sit at the coffee table in the back. a slight pain in your chest as you watch his figure, his leg bouncing similar to yours just moments ago. unbeknownst to you that heeseung was trying to hold it together and prevent himself from crying.

you thought that after the nerves from speaking with heeseung you’d be fine to meet with jake but you were wrong. you were just as nervous, maybe even more. you weren’t sure why; maybe it was because you’ve known jake less? you don’t fully know him as a person and that made you uncertain?

or maybe it’s the fact that you weren’t sure if the issues you and jake have would ever get fixed. you wanted to fix them but it seems like jake wants to fix them a lot more than you did. what problems you had don’t compare to the issues that plagued your relationship with heeseung but after speaking with heeseung you felt like it was salvageable. 

you thanked the host and gave her a small nod as she walked you to where jake was sitting. you stood right outside of a private room at the restaurant, you had told jake that this was your favorite place because they had really good steak and his ears perked up at the word steak like he was a puppy hearing the word treat. 

he always said he’d take you here on a date one day but you didn’t think this would be the circumstance for that to finally happen. 

you take a deep breath before knocking and pulling the door open, to which you find jake sitting at the table and looking at you with a smile. you return the smile with your own and he gets up to hug you and his embrace feels warm. a type of warmth you hadn’t received from jake since the start of your relationship. 

he pulls out your chair for you and helps you into your seat, muttering a small thank you as you watch him circle the table so he could take a seat of his own. 

“i hope you don’t mind, i ordered for us. i just asked the waitress to bring us what their special was if that’s okay?” jake explains and you smile and nod. 

“yeah, that’s fine. honestly i’m not too hungry-” you explain but jake cuts you off. 

“nonsense, you need to eat. i know how you get and i’m sure all you’ve had today are energy drinks.” jake says with a laugh and you can’t help but also chuckle. 

“as a matter of fact i also had a cappucino so there’s that” you respond teasingly and a smile breaks out onto jake’s lips. like he was relieved and glad you were comfortable enough to joke around with him knowing the seriousness of what this dinner was for and how things have been between the two of you for the last few weeks. 

the two of you silently ate your meal, occassionally breaking out into conversation to catch up and it was so hard to get through the awkward tension. 

“so-” the both of you say in unison after the waitress has come by to grab your empty dishes. 

“you can go first.” jake says and you nod in response. 

“i’m going to be honest jake… you hurt me… a lot. 

i wasn’t sure that i was ready for a relatioship after heeseung and i think this proved that i wasn’t. 

i’m sorry that i couldn’t be the girlfriend you expected i was going to be but i wish you’d understand that i wasn’t in the best place and i feel like it’s not fair to have treated me that way knowing what i was going through and had just gone through. 

i was still processing so many things and then you came into my life and i thought you were a sign that i was going in the right direction but i think it was more to let me know that i needed to keep going instead of stopping at where i was. 

i really did like you jake but i think this is as far as we’re going.” it felt a lot easier to vocalize your emotions to jake because it was so fresh that you were able to just say all of it without having too much time to ruminate on everything and make yourself overthink. 

“you don’t think we can start over?” jake asks, a slight tremble in his voice. 

“i don’t know. truly, i don’t know. everything is still too fresh and i haven’t even processed my past trauma to process everything that’s happening right now. i’m sorry but i can’t give you an answer.” your explanation leaves jake nodding in silence for a moment and you can tell he’s trying to come up with what to say; like your words aren’t what he was expecting and he thought this would go a completely different route. 

“i was going to ask you to get back together in hopes that we could fix this together and we’d be able to come out of it as better people but i respect your wishes. 

it was a bit foolish of me to think you’d take me back so quickly but knowing how i made you feel and the hurt i put you through i get it. i just hope you know how sorry i am. the way i acted was despicable and i don’t even recognize that person. i’m going to do better in the future… 

i hope that we can meet again later down the line? maybe when we’ve gotten some time to ourselves?” jake asks, hope coating his words as he looks at you with so much intention and regret. 

“yeah, later down the line.” you say with a tight lipped smile as you get up to leave. 

“yn…” jake says just as you’re about to walk through that door. 

“i’ll always love you. even if i only got to actually love you for a short amount of time, i’ll always love you.” he confesses and you can’t bring yourself to turn around as tears threaten to fall down your face. 

“goodbye, jake” you say, voice shaky as you sniffle your way through the door.

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hoonieyun notes: we love open communicators!! now lets just hope no one fucks up... now playing will return soon! ive got to write out the last five chapters then its... over..!! ahhhh i can't believe we're so close to the end wahh

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[whorevolo]

DRACO (DILEMMA.)

pairing : draco malfoy x reader. synopsis : draco malfoy is the most insufferable prat you have ever met—yet it makes him all the more interesting. he shows the same interest in you. and you hated that.   warnings : 1.7k words. profanities that are canon in the series, fluff ﹖, implied history between reader and draco, no y/n mentioned. author’s notes : i’ve been wanting to write this fic for a while, but i’ve finally gotten the motivation to write it after weeks of staring at nothing at all. （ this was written september first '24, happy sorcerer’s stone day! ）

Draco Malfoy. He was always intriguing to you. You were, in a sense, interested in him.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎You let out a heavy sigh. Potions, how wonderful. Snape, while a great professor, was someone you absolutely dreaded seeing every week. It didn’t help that you had to see him every single day. You tap your fingers against the wooden desk in front of you, while your mind subconsciously floats around.

‎ ‎ ‎Sat before you was the infamous Draco Malfoy. If that didn’t click yet, then these synonyms for Draco Malfoy might: Harry Potter’s arch nemesis, The Stick Up Harry Potter’s Arse, Daddy’s Money…

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎Your eyes unconsciously gaze towards Malfoy who sat a table away. Conventionally, he was attractive—extremely attractive. However, you were aware it was his attitude that put people off. No one would like to be around someone who scowls at someone who does so much as breathe in their direction.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎You flick the end of your quill, which has been in a coarse state for quite some time now, yet you never found yourself wandering to Diagon Alley in hopes of purchasing another one. Snape had been rambling on for about thirty minutes or so and you found yourself just scribbling over a piece of parchment. 

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎Admittedly, you’ve been staring at Draco for about thirty minutes in question. It wasn’t like he had done anything interesting; he was a normal student who excelled above most students, played quidditch, and was wealthy. You could find anyone like that in other houses - still you found yourself fixating on him. Not in a creepy way as far as you were concerned.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“Oi,” Pansy pokes at your wrist. “Staring at Malfoy again? And you’re doing that as the same person who had told me I was obsessed with him during the second year.”

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“Stop it, Pansy,” you exhaled. “I am not staring at him; just observing, not staring. Different things, if you cared to know.” You retort in defense.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎Pansy was right - you had told her off during your earlier Hogwarts years for being so attracted so Malfoy, yet here you were, practically gawking at him. The last thing you needed was for people to begin running their mouths about your 'crush' on Malfoy. Which wasn’t true. At least that was what you told yourself. Your mind wanders back to the discussion, tuning out Snape’s booming voice in your head. His voice, at one point, had become white noise to you.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎After class, you were walking down the corridor with Pansy, textbook clutched in your arms to your chest. You were pretty annoyed at the time; Snape had given yet another essay that could go on for miles and miles. And if Snape wanted a whole meter-long essay, it was either that meter-long essay or no mark at all.

‎ ‎ ‎“Outrageous, honestly.” You shook your head. Pansy seemed amused due to how worked up you were, but at this point, it was no surprise.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“I mean, no one wants to write a whole bloody essay and h—” ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎“Ouch,” someone hissed after bumping into your shoulder. The audacity? You turn your head to see who the person is and become flabbergasted at the sight. Draco Malfoy.‎ ‎

ㅤYour face twists into a smug smirk, yet somehow, Draco makes no move to formulate a witty remark against it. “My apologies, Malfoy,” you said. Draco’s face contorts into something akin to disdain, yet you ignore it. He walks away after; you’d notice how he carried himself and how he delivered most of his response. With pride and confidence, you observed. That smirk transformed into a small smile, which earned you a nudge from Pansy.

ㅤ“So, are we heading to the library, or would you rather continue making expressions to the air?” Pansy raised her brows at you. She didn’t seem to take notice of the interaction you just had with Draco, given she was a few feet away, so perhaps she had continued walking after Draco had bumped into your shoulder.

ㅤ“Alright, alright,” you murmur, walking forward to walk side by side with her. “So impatient.” You muse, giggling. That earned you a harsher nudge, a shove from Pansy. “Ouch— Godric, Pansy. Does no one teach you how to treat your friends?”

ㅤ“You’re the last person who's supposed to be speaking of mistreating friends,” said Pansy who seemed to be growing impatient and frustrated. Pansy and her temperament, what a great thing to experience during your free period. You loved your dear friend but sometimes you’d rather get whipped around by the Whomping Willow rather than dealing with her and her ticking timebomb of a personality.

ㅤIt wasn’t like he hated you. He, too, found you interesting. You weren’t the nicest student, but you were a bright student. It earned you some respect, which he had to give you a bit of credit himself. But he didn’t consider himself your acquaintance either. He wasn’t your enemy, nor your rival.

ㅤDuring Transfiguration, you were awfully bored. You were practically melting into the wood of your desk from how slouched over you are. As much as you respected McGonagall and her work ethics, her lecture wasn’t the best thing to listen to when you only got three hours of sleep during the night. Your finger taps against the desk in a pattern, as if indenting your fingerprint on the wooden surface. You feel something brush against your arm, and you see a crane.

ㅤYou sigh, flicking it off of your desk in annoyance. There came another flying crane. You flick it off again. There came a third crane when you were about to flick the previous one off.

ㅤ“Oh my God,” you groaned. You decided to just unfold the crane, in hopes to get rid of the cranes for good. There was writing; Swirls of cursive letters decorate the parchment, that was the first thing you noticed. You dread reading the note, but you had to eventually if you wanted the cranes to stop hauling in your way.

ㅤMeet me tonight, ㅤ- D. Malfoy.

ㅤThis prat was insufferable. Not like you haven’t realized that yet, but it was like a reminder that he was indeed the most insufferable person you've ever met.

ㅤInsufferable he was, but you chose to meet him anyway. You weren't sure where, but you had a gut feeling you knew where he fancied meeting. It made you want to gag—the fact you knew where he wanted to meet. That's utterly disgusting and out of character for you. Though Pansy does say you're just in denial. Your footsteps echoed, making no move to shush them as you walk down the hall. You try to tell yourself that you rather Filch catch you than having to meet with Malfoy out of all people.

ㅤ“Malfoy,” you breathe out. Much to your dismay, he was serious about meeting you tonight. It wasn’t like this was the first time, however. So, it didn’t feel too out of place. You watch as he turns his head towards you, his usually styled hair now free from whatever routine he did in the morning to achieve its usual look.

ㅤ“Oh, it’s you.” He spoke. ㅤ“It’s me.” You confirm.

ㅤUncomfortable silence overcomes both of you but seeing as you were now in the Astronomy Tower late at night, it wouldn’t be far-fetched. Adding onto the awkwardness, it was cold. Extremely cold. Unbearably cold.

ㅤYou rub your palms against your forearm, “Is there something you wanted? You don’t usually… you don’t usually tell me to meet you. I figured that was more of my job, not yours.” You raise a brow. ㅤHe shook his head, “Don’t act so idiotic for once, you act as though we don’t meet every other night.”

ㅤ“It’s different,” you retort. ㅤ“How different?” He protests.

 ㅤTruthfully, you didn’t know how to answer that. It was clear you weren’t friends, nor enemies. It wasn’t like you were close in any way. You were just two people strung along by fate who just so happened to be illicitly meeting during the afterhours. Illicitly in a sense that you knew you weren’t supposed to be associating with him—you knew that. But you still do it. 

ㅤ“How different is it?” His voice snaps you out of your train of thought, making direct eye contact. “It’s ridiculous how you start things you can barely finish, are you not ashamed?” He hissed.

This boy was beyond terrible. His reputation was very telling, yet here you were.  ㅤ“Why would I be ashamed?” You frown. “You were the one who asked to meet, but you’re also the one who’s berating me at the mome–” ㅤ“I like you.” ㅤ“...What?” ㅤAnother series of deafening silence overcomes your surroundings. Your initial denial had become your ultimate realization that ... maybe you do like him. Maybe you fancied him more than you let on. You felt your heart almost burst out of it's confides in your chest, caged in your ribs. Your gaze sets on him for what felt like an eternity; it was an embarrassingly long moment of just eye contact with the guy you've sworn you never liked - at least romantically.  ㅤ“Are you deaf? I said I like you,” he repeated, as if his first confession had fallen on deaf ears. You shook your head at this, almost like that'd be your final response.  ㅤBut you spoke up, “You like me?” ㅤ“Were you not present the whole time I had been talking? It's no wonder you're failing Potions.” He sighed. He really took the chance to throw an insult at anyone. Even the person he liked.

ㅤ“No, no, I heard you,” you retort. You feel your forehead wrinkle in thought, yet he stood there so eerily unmoving. ㅤ“So why is it that you're incapable of responding?” He hissed, “You're associated with Parkinson, no? Maybe that's where all this obliviousness is coming from—” ㅤ“I like you too.” You reply firmly in the midst of his ramble. You could feel the air grow tense as Draco freezes before you, his eyebrows shooting up.

ㅤPerhaps he wasn't as bad as you thought. That was something you realized after you departed to Hogsmeade with him the next day. And although he could still be described as moody and a git, he was ... somewhat decent to you, his friends would point out. And well, you did get relentlessly teased and picked on by your clique, but you weren't bothered—not when you've charmed Draco Malfoy, of all people.

[blissfulflw]

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢

Pairing- Kim Minjeong (Winter) x fem reader

Genre- Angst

Word Count- 2942

A/N: Uhh just a bit short, could’ve added more context and stuff but yk. I’m a lazy writer… mb

You remember the first time Minjeong looked at you like you were the only person in the world.

That was Minjeong. Always too tender. Always hurting more for others than for herself.

You didn’t know what love was then. You were five, and love was just the word your parents used when they kissed each other on the forehead after long days. You thought you loved Minjeong like you loved your mom’s soup, or the stars you could see from her bedroom window on sleepovers.

Years passed. You stayed inseparable. Two kids growing into teenagers, into adults, still orbiting each other like twin moons. You didn’t notice the way your heart beat differently when she smiled at you, or how you kept every letter she’d ever written—birthday cards, dumb little notes she left in your locker, even grocery lists with hearts dotting her i’s.

You didn’t notice until it was already too late.

The first time she told you about the diagnosis, she said it like a joke.

“It’s not that bad,” Minjeong said, eyes skimming over your face like she was trying to memorize you. “They caught it early. Just… a rare autoimmune thing. They’re figuring it out.”

You didn’t know the name. Still don’t. It doesn’t matter.

You believed her. Of course you did. She was twenty-two. People don’t die at twenty-two.

You remember the second time she looked at you like you were the only person in the world. It was the hospital room—the first one, not the last. The tubes were smaller then. Her hair hadn’t fallen out yet. You cracked a joke about the food tray, and she laughed, real and raw, then went quiet. Her eyes were shining. You thought it was the morphine. Now, you think it was goodbye.

But you were still in denial. Still pretending there would be a tomorrow. That this was just a temporary detour, and life would pick up again soon. The way you talked around the word terminal was almost impressive. An Olympic sport of omission.

Then came the night it hit you.

She was asleep beside you in the hospital bed, small and pale, her hand weak in yours. You were rereading one of her old letters—you used to carry them in your coat pocket, folded and frayed. In it, she told you about a dream she had when you were both thirteen. You were grown up, holding hands on a beach. The sky was full of stars. She said she thought it meant something.

You reread that letter three times. Then, you looked at her.

And it came like a wave. A crash.

You love her.

Not platonically. Not like a sister. Not like a friend.

You loved Minjeong like the world had been waiting for her. Like your life only made sense in the context of hers. Like every beat of your heart had been echoing her name since you were five years old.

You don’t know how you didn’t see it before. But you do now.

You told yourself you’d tell her the next morning.

_____

The next morning, she was unconscious.

She never woke up.

Her mother let you stay the night. You slept beside her, begging whatever god would listen. But morning came, and Minjeong didn’t.

She died at 4:17 AM. You had gone to the vending machine at 4:15.

Two minutes.

Two minutes late.

You remember the way her room smelled. Like antiseptic and lavender lotion. Her hands were cold when you held them. You kissed her forehead. You whispered the words you never got to say.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. I just didn’t know it.”

She didn’t answer.

_____

The funeral felt like a blur you couldn’t wake from. People cried, but not the way you did. Not the kind of crying that breaks something in your ribs. Her mother held you like a daughter. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You couldn’t meet anyone’s.

Days became weeks. Weeks, months.

You stopped answering calls. Moved out of your apartment. You visited her grave sometimes, but it didn’t help. Nothing helped. There was no her in the dirt.

Grief is not loud.

It’s not the sobbing people do at funerals, or the polite condolences whispered into your shoulder by distant relatives who never knew her favorite color, or what song made her cry at 2 AM.

Grief is silent. It sits. It waits. It grows.

The first night after Minjeong’s death, you went home and stood in your bedroom doorway, staring at her sweater folded neatly on your chair. She left it behind the last time she stayed over—when she still could. She had fallen asleep watching one of those dumb sitcoms she loved, the ones you only tolerated because she laughed so hard her nose scrunched.

You walked over and picked up the sweater. Buried your face in it.

It still smelled like her.

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next. Or the next.

You told yourself you were just… processing. That soon you’d cry, and scream, and get it out of your system like they say you’re supposed to.

But the breakdown didn’t come like a storm. It came like rot.

You stopped showering. Stopped replying to texts. You ghosted your friends, your boss, your own mother. The world felt like background noise behind thick glass, and you were underwater, watching everyone else breathe like nothing had changed.

You wore her sweater every day. It stopped smelling like her by the second week. But you wore it anyway.

The nightmares started in week three.

Sometimes, they were vivid—Minjeong, calling out to you, trapped in a hospital bed while you stood frozen in the doorway, unable to move.

Sometimes, she was already dead, and you just sat beside her, whispering the things you should’ve said before it was too late.

You always woke up crying.

There were good days, or what passed for them. You’d manage to eat something. Open a window. Pretend she was just on vacation somewhere, phone broken, coming home soon.

But then you’d see something.

A bottle of her favorite tea at the store.

A commercial playing the song she once sang at karaoke, terribly and off-key.

Her handwriting in the margins of a book she lent you years ago.

And it would shatter you all over again.

The guilt was the worst part.

You left.

You left the room.

You went to the vending machine. For a stupid bag of chips. You were hungry. You thought she’d still be there when you came back.

Two minutes.

You were gone two minutes.

Sometimes, you imagine what she looked like in those moments. Did she open her eyes? Did she wonder where you were? Was she scared?

Did she die thinking you didn’t care?

That thought burrowed under your skin and stayed there, festering.

And then came the next regret, the one that stung deeper.

You never told her.

You had so many chances. How many sleepovers? How many late-night conversations where she looked at you like she wanted to say something too? How many times did she hug you longer than a friend should?

You were too afraid.

You thought you had time.

People like Minjeong aren’t supposed to die young. She was light. The kind of person who made everything brighter just by being in the room. You never thought the light would go out.

But it did.

And now every second you spent not telling her feels like a crime.

You tried to visit her grave.

The first time, you threw up in the parking lot.

The second time, you couldn’t get out of the car.

By the third time, you managed to sit beside her name, carved into granite like a lie.

Kim Minjeong. Beloved daughter. Cherished friend.

It didn’t say anything about you. There was no room for that.

You brought her daisies. They wilted in your hands before you even reached the stone.

You whispered, “I’m sorry,” until your throat went raw.

_____

Then one day, her mother called you. Said she’d found something.

A letter.

Addressed to you.

You drove over in silence, heart stuck somewhere between hope and dread. She handed it to you with trembling fingers. Said she hadn’t read it. Said Minjeong had asked for it to be given when the time was right.

The envelope had your name in her handwriting. You knew it instantly. You’d seen it a thousand times.

You took it home. Sat with it in your lap for hours. Then, finally, you opened it.

Y/N,

I’m sorry I couldn’t be stronger. I tried. God, I tried. I didn’t want to leave you.

I’ve loved you since we were kids. I didn’t know what it meant back then. But I knew that every birthday, every summer, every time you smiled at me, something inside me wanted to keep you safe. To hold your hand until we were old.

I wanted more time. Not just with the world. With you.

Ever since the day we’d met, it was like a connection. As if we had been interlinked, soulmates. I really wish I could’ve had more time, I wish that maybe, just maybe I could’ve plucked up the courage to tell you. I love you.

Even if I’m not alive, even if I have to watch you go on with life from afar.

Please live.

I know we didn’t have enough time, never got to see you walk down the aisle in your pretty white dress, but until death do us part.

-Minjeong.

_____

You don’t remember dropping the letter. Just the sound of your own scream. It tore out of you like fire.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t move.

She had loved you. She loved you. All this time. You could have had a life. A real one. You could have kissed her under the stars like she dreamed.

But you missed it.

Missed her.

You stopped leaving your apartment.

Her letter was on your nightstand. Folded. Torn at the crease.

You read it every morning. Every night.

Sometimes you read it out loud. Pretending she was there. Pretending she could hear.

Please live.

You wanted to honor that. You did. But it felt like a command given to a body without lungs.

How do you live with a hole in your chest?

How do you live when the person you lived for is gone?

The depression wasn’t cinematic. It was quiet.

You didn’t cry all day.

You just didn’t feel.

You lay in bed for hours staring at the ceiling, trying to remember the sound of her laugh. The way her fingers felt when they accidentally brushed yours. The little dance she used to do when your food arrived at restaurants.

Every memory was a blade. And you kept stabbing yourself with them just to feel something.

Sometimes you’d wake up reaching for her.

Sometimes you’d hear her voice in your dreams, whispering your name. The way only she could. Like a prayer.

But she was never there when you opened your eyes.

One night, you pulled out your phone.

Went through every photo. Every video. Every message.

The last one she ever sent: I hope you sleep okay tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. I love you always, even if I don’t say it out loud.

You didn’t reply.

You had seen it. You just hadn’t known what to say.

You threw the phone against the wall. It cracked.

You stared at the damage like it meant something. Until coming to a decision.

You wrote your own letter. It was shorter. Messier.

You kissed her photo. Held the pendant she gave you when you were twelve.

And then, like sleep, the dark came.

But it wasn’t the end.

Not really.

Because you opened your eyes to light. Warm and blinding.

Minjeong was there.

Smiling.

She looked like she did before the sickness. Healthy. Beautiful. Ageless.

You ran to her. She caught you in her arms. You wept into her shoulder.

“I missed you,” you said.

“I know,” she whispered. “Me too.”

You didn’t know how long it lasted. Time didn’t work the same in that place.

But her arms around you felt like home.

And then, just as quickly—

The light turned to fire.

Her hands slipped from yours.

She screamed your name, voice cracking with desperation.

You tried to hold on.

But it was too late.

Again.

You were pulled down.

The heat came. The cold after it. The gnawing emptiness of consequence.

And her voice…

Fading into the stars.

You think of her still, in this place.

You wonder if she remembers you.

If she cries.

If she watches.

You don’t know if it hurts her to be without you again.

But for you, it is agony.

Because the punishment isn’t fire.

It’s separation.

It’s almost.

It’s the taste of her name on your lips with no mouth to say it.

It’s the eternity of silence between two souls that once fit together like puzzle pieces.

It’s the memory of a smile you will never touch again.

There is no clock here.

No sun. No moon.

Only the echo of things you once had, and the things you never said.

Hell is not fire.

Hell is remembering.

You sit in the dark with her name on your tongue like a forgotten hymn, whispering it over and over like it might still reach her, wherever she is.

Minjeong.

Sometimes, you hear your own voice ricochet through the silence. Like it’s trying to come back to you. But it never does.

You’re not sure how long it’s been. It could be years. Centuries. A second stretched forever.

Time doesn’t live here.

Only loss.

_____

At first, you screamed.

You begged whatever force was responsible. You pleaded to see her again. Just one glimpse. One moment.

One goodbye.

You said her name until your throat cracked. You tore pages from your mind just to rewrite your story—rewrite that vending machine run, that unsaid confession, that moment her hand went cold without yours holding it.

But nothing changed.

No one came.

No light. No forgiveness. No her.

And she is up there.

You know it.

You felt it.

Before the sky ripped you apart, her eyes met yours one last time. She smiled, even as you were dragged away.

Her smile didn’t hold anger.

Just sorrow.

And love.

You know she begged for you. You know she tried.

But heaven has rules.

So does hell.

Love can break hearts. But it can’t always break laws.

She watches you now.

You feel it.

Sometimes, when the air turns still, you sense her at the edge of everything. Like a shadow pressed to a window you can’t reach. Like the feeling of being watched by someone kind, someone aching.

You feel it when your heart—whatever’s left of it—twists. A warmth. A memory of light.

And then it’s gone.

Just like she is.

Minjeong is in the garden.

In the morning that never ends.

She sits on a bench surrounded by white roses that never die, looking up at a sky that never dims.

She holds your letter in her lap, creased and fragile from fingers that trace your name like a prayer.

And she cries.

Not because she’s angry.

Not even because she’s alone.

But because she still loves you.

Even here.

Even now.

Even with forever between you.

She speaks to you, sometimes.

Whispers your name into the wind.

Tells you stories you’ll never hear. Laughs soft and broken at jokes you would’ve made. Hums the lullabies you both used to fall asleep to in the hospital bed, when there was still time. When there was still hope.

She wonders if you can feel her.

She wonders if you forgive her—for not holding on tighter, for not saying I love you sooner, for being too soft and too quiet when it mattered.

But mostly, she wonders if you’re okay.

If wherever you are, you remember the way her hand fit in yours.

If you know she never stopped waiting.

And you—down here—you do feel it.

Every now and then, in the cold, you catch the faintest scent of lavender and sugar. You think it’s her.

Maybe it is.

Maybe there are cracks in the walls of this place. Tiny fractures in eternity where her love still seeps through.

But you can’t follow it.

You can’t climb back.

You made your choice.

And hell remembers.

You begin to forget your own voice.

But hers? Hers stays with you.

You say it every day like a spell.

Minjeong.

You write it in ash.

You carve it into stone.

You bleed it into the silence.

And still, she does not come.

Because she can’t.

Because forever means forever.

Because some loves are written in the stars.

And some are written in the spaces between them.

There is no ending here.

Only echoes.

Only distance.

Only love that couldn’t outrun time.

You are the ghost she dreams of.

And she is the light you were never meant to hold.

But still—across the great divide—

you both wait.

You both love.

And that will be your forever.

Apart.

But never unloved.