#like i swear they just wanted a reason to justify writing him that way | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ugh-yoongi · 1 year ago

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about u | jjk

❝ this song is about a love that you can’t reconcile—wanting to make a home out of a person that has proved to you time and again that they are not a home; they are just a person. it’s about retracing scars, negative patterns, all with the silent belief that moments of communion and understanding might justify months of misfiring and regret. we’re all just trying to get back to that ‘first high’ feeling—an honest endeavor, however futile. ❞

✤ PAIRING jungkook x f. reader ✤ GENRE exes to fwb to strangers, college/grad school au; angst, smut ✤ RATING explicit. minors do not interact. ✤ WARNINGS toxic & self-destructive behavior (inc. jealousy and possessiveness). infidelity (with an external partner). reader is bisexual (which is not a warning but a general statement so the homophobes stay away) and there is a brief mention of coming out. two people who are both too honest and unable to communicate. swearing. cigarettes and alcohol use. kissing, some spitting, fingering, oral sex, protected vaginal sex. every time i asked jess to read this over for me she always came back with "jfc jewel" so i guess this is angsty. unhappy ending. ✤ WORDCOUNT 7.3k ✤ LISTEN TO this was based off of "winterbreak" by muna, but there are bits and pieces of the entire about u album in here, "everything" and "outro" especially. ✤ THANK YOU to muna for writing the album, @the-boy-meets-evil and @hot-soop for reading over this for me multiple times and putting up with all my brainstorming and my beloved @here2bbtstrash for the extra set of eyes. ✤ AUTHOR'S NOTE hi, thank you for reading! i cannot emphasize enough how much more sense this story will make if you listen to about u in the background. i would also like to reiterate that these two are maybe not all that likeable most of the time, but i hope they're still human. as i once saw in an ao3 tag, you are more than the worst thing you've ever done.

[ the first. ] You’d read an article once—something about the second time you fall in love.

It’s going to feel different, it’d said. The first time felt like a dream.

As you stare across the kitchen at Jeongguk, you think that might be true. The part about it feeling like a dream, because it used to be a pinky-lavender haze and everything that has come after hasn’t felt so good. Not a nightmare, but close. At least with nightmares you can force yourself awake. You can tell yourself it wasn’t real. You can pretend.

This is as real as it gets, watching him smile over the rim of a plastic red cup. Someone else’s hand on his arm. The girl it belongs to looks nothing like you, and you wonder if she’ll be the second time he falls in love. You also wonder why you didn’t stay home. You wonder about fault and regret and if either of them even matter. No, you eventually decide: there’s just you in Taehyung’s kitchen and Jeongguk on the other side of it and the result of a million decisions in between you.

There had been a plenitude of reasons you’d fallen in love with Jeongguk, but he’s undoubtedly beautiful. Soft, tinkling laugh; a smile that reaches his eyes. Not all that long ago you used to be responsible for both, so there’s a lingering, bitter sting beneath your wonder. Jeongguk is beautiful and no longer yours, and that’s enough to have you retreating to the living room.

Jimin’s at your side immediately. Wraps an arm around your shoulders and presses a kiss to the top of your head that does little to alleviate your guilt. Missing someone is always easier with thousands of miles in between you. All those distractions. Just like a nightmare, distance lets you pretend. Not so easy to do when all those ghosts come back to haunt you; when you can still hear Jeongguk’s soft voice in the kitchen. The music is so loud but you’d be able to hear him anywhere, you think.

Even places he’s not.

Jimin leans down, forces his way into your personal space. “Are you doing okay?” he asks, and his words are warm and wrapped in alcohol, but you nod. You’re scared you might start crying if you open your mouth. Afraid of what might come out besides shuddering breaths, which just makes you feel stupid. Baby’s first breakup, you chide yourself. Maybe Jimin can get you a commemorative ornament.

Taehyung is turning twenty-four and it should be joyous. It is joyous. People that aren’t you are laughing and dancing and pressing their cheeks together as they huddle close to take selfies. Someone you don’t recognize is cackling wildly as they wrangle Taehyung into a headlock and smear cake frosting on his face. Someone else is tutting and running a rag under the tap to wipe it off and then the frosting is gone. It’s hard not to draw parallels.

There one minute and gone the next.

Gently wiped away.

But the feeling lingers, doesn’t it? The tack of the frosting, all the love that transpired between you and Jeongguk. Sometimes you fear it’s permanent—not able to be wiped away with a rag run under the tap, not able to be wiped away at all. Just this burden you’re cursed to carry, because Jeongguk isn’t and can’t be yours but knowing does nothing to erase the past. Doesn’t help you forget. It’s fucked and it’s unfair, but that’s just the way it goes.

“I think I should leave,” you say, watching another scene play out in the kitchen. Jeongguk fills a cup and hands it to a different pretty girl. Everyone here is so pretty. Makes sense; so is Taehyung. Pretty people are drawn to one another like that. “Is it too soon? Will it be obvious?”

Jimin sighs, wraps you in a hug. Says, “Oh, love,” in a way that’s too sympathetic. Makes you sound too pathetic. “No one will blame you. These things are hard.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Not that you don’t appreciate Jimin’s reassurance, but sometimes it all feels a bit silly. Weren’t you the one to walk away? Call it off? Are you allowed to mourn the very thing you destroyed?

And Jimin, bless him, is so patient with you. Asks if you need a ride home and you wave him off, remind him your parents’ place isn’t far, that the cold might do you some good. You tell him you appreciate him and his night shouldn’t be ruined on your account, and you just laugh when he tries to protest, tell him to go get himself another drink.

“Text me when you get home,” he says, voice stern, and you brush that off, too. “I’m serious. It’s late and it’s dark and anyone could be out there—”

“Maybe I should walk you home, then?”

All those articles you read about the second time you fall in love didn’t mention this. Said nothing about the way a voice will always be able to turn your world on its axis and how to right it again. Said nothing about how to coexist with ghosts. Said nothing about what to do with all the yearning and the pain and the stupid, selfish strands of hope. There are paragraphs about an overarching, general grief, but nothing about the specific one living inside of you.

The shock on Jimin’s face is reflecting your own. It’s nice to not be the only one caught off-guard and stammering over their words. It’s nice to have a friend when it feels like your entire world is on the edge of collapse. “I don’t…” he begins. Swallows thickly and turns to look at you, an obvious question biting at the back of his teeth.

You know the answer.

You know that what you should say isn’t what you want, just like you know it isn’t fair, this thing you’re doing. Because you turn to Jeongguk and say, “Are you sure?” which might as well be a yes, because you’re selfish and suspended in this liminal space and don’t want him to go home with anyone else. You don’t want him to move on.

He shrugs. “It’s on the way.”

You say okay. Let Jimin help you into your coat, hide his face in your neck as he tells you to be careful, and that stings. You’ve never had to be careful around Jeongguk before. The two of you never, ever hurt one another—until you did. The kind of hurt your heart hasn’t easily forgotten, is still stubbornly clinging to.

Your heart wants Jeongguk, always.

You want Jeongguk, always, so you let him grab your hand, link your pinkies together. You let him lead you out of the house and don’t turn back to see who might be watching. God, you want to, though. Want all those pretty girls to see that he’s leaving with you. Want them to know it’s your name that’s branded on his heart; your name beneath his skin. For once, you want someone to want what you have.

It’s strange. The two of you have been apart for eight months, and there’s a lot of things you might want to tell someone in that amount of time, but you find it hard now. Don’t know where to start, which words to use. Don’t want to say something stupid, because Jeongguk is just walking you home but you’ve assigned a lot of meaning to it, and eight months is a long time to yearn for something and finally get it.

So you say, “You didn’t have to do this, you know,” because it’s something that’s true and easy to say.

Jeongguk doesn’t answer right away. Drops your pinky so he can hold your hand properly—fully, all five fingers intertwined—and squeezes. “Is it weird for you?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound nervous. Almost sounds like he’s smiling a little, giving you shit. He sounds familiar.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe a little.” He asks why? at the same time he passes under a streetlight. Lights up golden and amber. He’s beautiful—“I don’t know. It’s just… I guess it’s just been a long time. We didn’t leave things the best.”—and no longer yours.

The Jeongguk walking beside you is not the same Jeongguk that walked out of your dorm eight months ago, tears staining his cheeks, the smell of a goodbye fuck still clinging to his clothes, his skin, sweat still dotting his hairline. This Jeongguk is sharper, more selfish with his laughter, and you wonder about all the ways heartbreak can change a person. How you’re changed for facilitating it. You wonder if Jeongguk blames you before deciding you’re too much of a coward to find out the answer.

“Was it that bad?” When you look over at him, he’s chewing on his lip ring, trying to bite back a smile. “You’ll have to remind me. I don’t remember.”

You stop walking, jerking forward when Jeongguk is left unaware and keeps going. “That’s not funny,” you say. “Jeongguk, that’s not—I did what I thought was best, okay? I thought I was doing the right thing—”

The smile drops from Jeongguk’s face. “Hey, hey, look at me,” he says, and he’s hesitant to reach out and touch you but he does it anyway. Cups your face in both hands. “I know, it’s okay. That’s just—it’s just life, right? You did what you had to do, babe. It’s okay.”

You did what you had to do, babe.

Did you?

Jeongguk is selfish with his laughter but never his affection, and knowing that feels like an albatross around your neck. You have broken him so entirely, but he’s still kind to you, finds it a worthwhile thing to be.

His eyes go to your lips. Tattooed fingers dimple your face just a little more, dig in deeper. When you dare to take him in, he looks… different. No longer amused, the way he was just seconds ago; now, there’s something dark there. Longing, anger, hunger. Jeongguk looks like he wants to swallow you whole and make you suffer; looks like he wants to cage you beneath him and worship you through the comedown.

I’d let him, you think as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. As you smell the smoke that lingers, the sweat and the alcohol. I’d still let him.

It’d be so easy to press a kiss there. To feel his skin beneath your lips: flushed, still warm from the party, not all daunted by the bitter winter wind biting at your cheeks. As you lean in further, you wonder if it’ll taste the same. You wonder how much can change in eight months and if all those old comforts change, too. If it’s something inevitable.

Jeongguk moves his hands to your waist. Crawls his fingertips beneath your jacket and finds bare skin. Sucks in the smallest bit of air, and you would’ve missed it had it been any other time, but winter is always quiet and subdued. Always smells transitional, something dangerously close to hope and redemption.

And eight months is a long time to miss the feel of someone’s lips, isn’t it, so you think you can be excused for reaching for something you thought you’d never have again.

The first kiss is hesitant, testing; pressed to the spot just beneath his ear. Maybe you don’t know this Jeongguk, but you know the version of him you used to love—the one you still do—and you know the way he’ll sigh. You know the way his hands will grip tighter. You can still hear it, the way you used to kiss him there and he’d say, don’t start something you can’t finish, baby, and the way you’d laugh and always, always finish it. Can still feel the warmth that used to bloom in your chest. The love.

Jeongguk won’t say that now, you know. Wonder if it’d sound more like don’t start something you already finished if he did. He huffs a small laugh, more an exhale than anything, and asks, “What are you doing?”

And you answer, “I don’t know,” because it’s honest. You admit, “I guess I just miss you,” because it’s true.

A war wages within Jeongguk. You can see the storms, the white flags that are close to being thrown out. Can see the way his gaze flits between your lips and your eyes. What he’s looking for, you don’t know, but the storm rages on. And just like real life, just when you think it’s at its worst, there’s a break in the clouds: a tangible beam of silvery-warm light when Jeongguk tangles his hands in your hair, thumbs at the hinge of your jaw. Jeongguk tilts your head back and looks ethereal in the amber glow of the streetlights.

He says, “We shouldn’t,” and you nod, because you know and the anguish on his face is surely mirrored on yours, but when he follows it with, “let me take you home, let me take care of you,” you find it impossible to care.

You nod.

Everything is amber.

Eight months is a long time to go without the way Jeongguk kisses you: intentionally, demandingly, insatiably. He still tastes the same. Tastes like the first time you’d ever dared to kiss him, back at that party freshman year, tongue flavored with cheap liquor. Jeongguk tastes forbidden and feels like coming home.

You couldn’t say how you make it to Jeongguk’s apartment, but the way you stumble over the threshold feels familiar. The way the door is barely locked when Jeongguk crowds your space; picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist, presses you against it, hips moving on their own accord, rutting, all those little sounds spilling from his lips—everything is familiar. This is not just a practiced song and dance but something memorized. Something instinctual. You could be apart from Jeongguk for years instead of months and your body would still know what to do.

He carries you to his bedroom and you don’t think about who else has been between his sheets, because he puts you down so gently. Kisses your lips, your jaw, your neck—all gentle, powder-soft. Sounds like spring when you paw at the velvety cashmere of his sweater, pull it over his head, and he sighs. Feels like he’s breathing fresh life into something he shouldn’t, something long dead, but then you skim along his warm skin and your world is reduced to the way it feels like silk beneath your fingertips.

“I still love you,” Jeongguk whispers against your mouth, his inked fingers toying with the button on your jeans. Pops it open, pulls the denim down your thighs. Doesn’t bother pulling them off, only goes as far as your knees. And it’s uncomfortable, the way it’s bunched there, but the way Jeongguk says, “Fuck, missed you so much,” is so sweet.

Everything happens too fast.

Jeongguk leaves your shirt on. Drags it up and over your breasts and kisses at the newly-exposed skin. Sinks his teeth in, lets it hurt for a second before he laves over the marks. Settles between your legs and coaxes an orgasm out of you with his mouth and his fingers. Speaks his praise into the juncture of your thigh, breathless as he touches himself, strokes his cock with the wetness lingering on his fingers. Looks so, so pretty when he sits back on his haunches and says, “Just wanna look at you,” and makes it sound wistful and longing.

Makes it sound like it means something.

He’s still touching himself, still slicking himself up. There’s a split second where he goes to move and thinks better of it. Looks to the side before looking back at you. The storm kicks up again. “Have—” he begins before he swallows thickly. Dares to look hopeful, even through the squall. “Have you been with anyone else? Since…?”

You haven’t. Tried to, once—another stupid party, more cheap liquor passed to your mouth from someone else’s, but it hadn’t gone anywhere. They hadn’t tasted like Jeongguk; hadn’t felt the same. Two puzzle pieces that fit together all wrong.

Jeongguk has, though. Something you’d heard from a friend of a friend that you weren’t meant to. They’d called it a rebound, and it had bloomed so many ugly thoughts in your head. Five months had passed. Jeongguk was fucking someone else in his bed while you were in yours, torturing yourself over whether or not to tell him happy birthday. Whether it was allowed to or not, it’d stung.

(You had. You’d reworded the text a million times, plucked up all the courage you could find before you sent it. It’d gone unanswered, just like you expected it would, and you thought it was because Jeongguk didn’t want to talk to you. Thought you were digging your fingers into wounds that had yet to heal, so it’d stung but you understood.

But Jeongguk hadn’t answered because he was fucking someone else. Had someone else’s taste on his tongue; was panting someone else’s name into the dark. The embarrassment had been the worst part.)

Still does, if you’re being honest with yourself, so you lie. “I—yeah,” you answer. “Just one.”

Looks like it stings Jeongguk, too. “Right,” he responds, blinking back tears, and he’s got a lot of nerve, you think. “Yeah, okay, I’ll just—a condom. Are you…”

“Jeongguk—”

“Are you sure? Maybe this isn’t…” He huffs. Drops the condom on the bed, hangs his head. “What are we doing?”

You stare up at the ceiling. Nothing up there but the swirls in the plaster. “I don’t know,” you admit. “Hurting each other, probably.”

Jeongguk walks his fingers down your thigh. Grips at your skin, wants it to bruise. Wants you to have something to remember him by come morning. “Sometimes I’m really mad at you, you know?”

“Yeah, trust me, I know.”

He nods. Refuses to look you in the eye now that you’re watching him. “I still love you so fucking much and I’m still so angry. What am I supposed to do with that? What am I… fuck, I thought I was over it. I thought I’d see you and not feel a fucking thing.” There’s fresh ink on the back of his left hand. You hadn’t noticed it earlier, but you notice it now, when he runs his hands down his face.

You also notice the way the atmosphere shifts, the split second in which his heartache bleeds into something else—resolve, maybe. Obstinacy. Like he knows how this is going to end and he’s going to do it anyway. He’s going to find the most painful part and press on it, dig his fingers in, and it’s just an inevitable, foregone thing. Something he can prevent and something he’s choosing not to.

“You fucked someone else,” he sneers. Rips the foil open with his teeth, flashing too white in the dark of his bedroom. Rolls the condom on like it’s an inconvenience. Like you’re an inconvenience. “Was it good? Was it worth it?”

You roll your eyes. Feel the way your breath catches in your throat, because you’re not going to cry. Jeongguk fucked someone else and is vilifying you and it’s hypocritical and ugly and unfair, but you’re not going to cry over it. You’re going to press the gas pedal as far as it can go, say, “Yeah, it was,” and find some wicked delight in the way his eyes squeeze shut, as if it can spare him from the pain.

The two of you used to love each other. Jeongguk used to smile down at you when you were naked beneath him like this. Used to lean in close and whisper that he loved you just as he pushed inside even though you knew, you could feel it in everything he did. Now, there’s no smile. Now, he leans down and spits on your pussy and pushes inside and doesn’t tell you a goddamn thing.

Not with words, anyway.

Because the way he fucks you says it all. Impersonal, desperate, bitter. He grips your hips and fucks into you frenzied and fast. Takes your hand and puts it on your clit and tells you to get yourself off. An inconvenience. Tells you he misses your tight cunt, tells you he misses the way it milks his cock, tells you he misses watching the way you come undone underneath him, but he doesn’t tell you he misses you.

There’s a moment, just after he spills into the condom and stays inside, just catching his breath, when you think he might say it. Might tell you he loves you around the lump in his throat, might apologize, might ask if you two can’t figure it out.

There’s only a moment.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything. Lets the moment pass. Pulls out and ties off the condom and wordlessly gets up to throw it away. It’s the silence that pisses you off. The disregard. Jeongguk hates you for something you’d lied about doing that he’d done for real, so you can be wordless, too. You can treat him like an inconvenient, cheap fuck, too. You can get up and find your clothes and pull them on and let him watch, words biting at the back of his teeth, and you can tell yourself to feel nothing.

You can say, “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve,” and not shy away from the resentment in your voice, because it’s properly placed. “You fucked someone else, too, so you’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, Jeongguk.”

Eight months is a long time to miss someone, to play at daydreams. To think of all the things you want to say, the things you’ll do. In not one of them did you think about this: you, fully dressed and stinking of sex, saying, “It’s late. I’ll show myself out.”

Jeongguk, tears glistening on his cheeks, saying, “No, let me—baby, I’m sorry, please—I’ll drive you.”

A shake of your head. Jeongguk doesn’t push it.

Roll credits.

[ the second. ] Jimin wants to talk your ear off about it—the girl you’re seeing.

It’s new and there isn’t much to say. You tell him the two of you met at one of the student showcases put on by the art department and leave off the part about all of Jeongguk’s old friends being there, that he would’ve participated, too, if he hadn’t dropped out after you broke his heart. Leave off the part where you would’ve been there to support him instead, in another life. Leave off the part where it’d just been morbid curiosity: you, not an art student, wandering those halls to see if Jeongguk’s photographs were still framed on the wall.

“Is she nice?” Jimin asks, head nearly knocking into yours as someone shoves by him. “Fucking asshole.”

You nod. “Why would I date someone that wasn’t nice?”

Jimin, perpetually unbothered until he decidedly isn’t, sends you a look that he hides behind the rim of his cup. “Because you’re in your self-destruction era and aren’t thinking clearly.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said. You know I’m happy if you’re happy, but…” He pauses as he trails off. Tries to wrap his words in something delicate. “It’s pretty clear you still aren’t over it. That’s all.”

You snort. “That’s all?” you repeat, like it’s some small thing. Like it’s normal and fine.

“I’m sure it’s easier to pretend when the two of you are thousands of miles apart,” Jimin amends, and he must see how you bristle, stung by the callout, because his eyes soften. “Tell me about her.”

She’s beautiful and kind and smart. Smokes clove cigarettes and the smell is always clinging to her skin. You know how to make her come but don’t know what she’s majoring in—fashion, you think, because she’s always holding fabric swatches against your skin. Tells you what suits you and what doesn’t. Tells you which textures don’t work, what’s too warm, and she doesn’t need to tell you what’s too cold because you already know it’s you.

She’s beautiful and kind and smart and has no idea you’re still in love with someone else.

But you can’t tell Jimin that, can you? Can’t tell him about how she’d dragged you to a private corner in the gallery and kissed you breathless; the way she made you come on her fingers; the way Jeongguk’s name nearly slipped out of your mouth as you shook. Can’t tell him that she’s got arms full of art. Delicate patchwork; nothing like the harsh, bold colors inked into Jeongguk’s skin, but it feels the same to trace the lines.

You can’t tell him much of anything, so what you settle on is, “She’s nice—good for me,” and it doesn’t sound convincing to either of you.

Jimin doesn’t call you on it, though. Not again. Instead, he keeps his gaze steady, staring into the fire, the flames dancing wildly when you meet his eye. “You need to be careful,” he says. “You’re going to hurt her, too. Maybe worse than you hurt him.”

“Jimin—”

“Just be careful,” he reiterates, and all you can do is nod. What else is there to do besides wait for the inevitable crash and burn?

And it’s a little unfair, you think, that Taehyung grows older every single year. A little unfair that guilt won’t let you decline the invitations. A little unfair that you can still pick Jeongguk’s laughter out of a crowd. A little unfair that these hometown friends-turned-acquaintances still throw sideways glances whenever someone else touches him, as if he still has someone to answer to; as if they’re expecting something.

An hour. You’ve survived an hour longer than you did last year, and it’s not much but you’re still proud of yourself. You’ve had a drink, talked to someone other than Jimin. Managed to ignore the way Jeongguk is ignoring you; the way he immediately leaves a room as soon as you enter. Maybe it’s better like this, you reckon. Maybe it’s what you need.

An hour is long enough. Jimin doesn’t comment on the way your bones crack when you stand to leave. No one needs a reminder of growing older. He doesn’t ask if you’ll be okay, either; if you need a ride home. Instead, he stays quiet as he studies you, clearly wondering if lightning strikes twice. If you’re going to be able to walk past Jeongguk and out the door without making another mistake.

You can at least make it across Taehyung’s sprawling yard and to the house. You can dodge the sweat-slick bodies and the girls sitting in laps. You can toss your empty cup in an overflowing trash can. You can pretend the eyes on your back are well-intentioned.

You can make it to the bathroom.

Annoying, the way your phone has been vibrating all night only to disappoint you. Irrational. You scroll past the emoji-laden messages, the coy flirting, because they’re from the person you’re actually dating—the person you told you were going to sleep early—and not from Jeongguk. You should feel guilty. You should feel guilty, but the face staring back at you in the mirror doesn’t look guilty at all.

She looks tired. A little beat-down, but that’s life.

Maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve spent the last two years of your life chasing after ghosts.

A knock at the door startles you. Sends your phone tumbling to the floor, screen probably cracked to hell, and you swear under your breath. “Just a minute!” you call out, a little stunned from how threadbare you feel all of a sudden.

Still, the knocking continues, and you’re on your knees on this bathroom floor and all you want to do is cry. You don’t want to be on this floor in this house. You don’t want to keep putting in the effort of maintaining the facades of all these friendships. You don’t want to keep coming back to this town, don’t want to keep being confronted with the harsh reality of all your mistakes.

“Just a fucking min—”

The words die on your tongue, because there Jeongguk stands, all the air in your lungs dissipating at the amount of space he takes up. Even worse when he steps inside and locks the door behind him. You feel like you’re going to drown. You feel like you’re going to scream or cry or both, and you’re still on the floor, still on your knees, and it feels too much like penance when you look up at him. Feels like you’re groveling, praying for forgiveness.

You stand quickly, ignoring the rush of blood to your head, the way your legs tingle. Jeongguk still hasn’t said a word, doesn’t seem like that’s going to change, either, and it’s really all you can do to stay on your feet when everything in you is screaming to collapse.

Eventually, he says, “You’re seeing someone,” and it isn’t a question, not really, but it borders on one. It’s a question and a confirmation and somehow sounds a lot like he’s asking for permission for something.

“I—yeah.” You swallow. “It’s new.”

He hums. Steps a little closer. Leans against the sink. Darts out his tongue to swipe at his bottom lip before he tugs his lip ring between his teeth. “Yeah? Does he treat you well?”

“She,” you correct, and there’s a flash of something in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. Jeongguk, at one point, had known everything about you, but not this. “And yeah,” you add on, barely a whisper, “she does.”

Part of you feels embarrassed. Jeongguk had known everything about you but not this, and you shouldn’t feel embarrassed or guilty but it still sits there in the middle of your chest. Feels like you’ve been keeping secrets. Feels like shame, even though you aren’t ashamed. Feels like you’re awaiting judgment. But the surprise in Jeongguk’s eyes disappears and something else settles in its place—uncertainty, if you had to guess.

“Are you happy with her?”

You shrug. “Like I said, it’s new.”

And Jeongguk is as emulous as ever, because he asks, “Does it feel like what we had?” and you already know the answer is no.

“I’m not sure anything will.”

It’s honest; you hadn’t said it to appease him, but he looks pleased anyway. You’re starting to understand why so many people write about their first love. Why it’s such a powerful role to fill. Because you and Jeongguk are standing in a bathroom behind a locked door, feet apart from one another, and you think, I don’t think there’s anyone I will ever love more than him even though it’s been two years. You think, I don’t think I’ll ever recover from this.

You think, I would try over and over and over again if he asked me to.

Later on, when you’re alone in your childhood bed and your face is streaked with tears, only your shame and guilt for company, you won’t be able to figure out who moved first, but one of you had.

Once upon a time, you had known everything about Jeongguk, too. You could recite his taste from memory, but it’s different this time. He licks into your mouth and it tastes like ash—nothing like the clove cigarettes your girlfriend smokes, but close enough that the parallel burns like acid in your throat. It’s close enough that you can keep your eyes shut and pretend again.

This time there’s no softness to be found. There’s just Jeongguk’s mouth pressed to yours, barely letting you breathe, not wanting anyone to hear. There’s just the sink digging into your back. Jeongguk’s hands gripping at your waist, pulling at the hem of your skirt. There’s the frustration and desperation of two people who love each other but will never, ever get it right.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as he spits into his hand and slicks you up, if you’re going to tell her.

There’s you, already too far gone, saying you don’t know.

There’s Jeongguk asking, as you’re clenching around him and dragging him with you to the edge, if you’d come back to him if he asked you to.

There’s you, already knowing the answer to this, too, saying you would.

But this isn’t that and Jeongguk doesn’t ask. When it’s over, he tosses the condom and does a half-assed job of helping you clean up and he doesn’t ask. He splashes water on his face and fixes his hair and he doesn’t ask. He tucks his cock back into his briefs and zips his jeans and he doesn’t ask.

Jeongguk has one hand on the doorknob and he doesn’t ask you to come back. Instead, he asks, “How long are you gonna keep doing this?”

For once, you don’t have an answer.

[ the third. ] You go even farther away for grad school.

You try to put more distance between you and Jeongguk, more distance between you and all the skeletons in your closet, but you just pack them up in different boxes and bring them with you.

You spend New Year’s Eve chain-smoking in your parents’ back yard—that same brand of clove cigarettes, because hearts are easy to break but some habits are not. Sometimes it’s a comfort to hurt yourself in the same way you hurt others, so you chain-smoke and you don’t go to to Taehyung’s birthday party because you weren’t invited and it doesn’t sting in the same way that it doesn’t sting that Jimin doesn’t call you once you’re home because he hasn’t spoken to you in a year.

The clock ticks down to midnight. Someone sets off fireworks. Absolutely nothing changes.

There are no half-baked resolutions. There’s no hope that this is going to be the year you get your shit together. There’s just you and the bed you’ve made for yourself; the autopilot you can’t—won’t—turn off, because you don’t know where you’re going anyway so you might as well just go wherever it’s taking you. There’s guilt and there’s shame and there’s baggage, but they’re all old friends. Those are old scars.

The sweatshirt you’re wearing doesn’t belong to you, and it does little to protect you from the bitter cold that bites at your skin. Jeongguk doesn’t belong to you, either, but he keeps coming back to you like he does.

“Mind if I sit down?”

You shrug, gesturing to the empty chair beside you. The small fire you’d built is down to its last embers, and it’s what you focus on, because you can’t focus on Jeongguk anymore.

“You weren’t at Tae’s.”

“Wasn’t invited.”

“Oh,” he breathes. “Sorry, I didn’t know. I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. I wouldn’t have gone anyway.”

He seems to hear what you don’t say. I wouldn’t have gone because I can’t be around you anymore. I wouldn’t have gone because I don’t trust myself with you. I wouldn’t have gone because I’ve burned down every good thing in my life trying to keep you. “Oh. Yeah, that—that makes sense.”

He’d texted you. Asked if he could see you. Just wanted to talk, and you’ve never cared much for symbolism, but nearing midnight on New Year’s Eve had seemed as good a time as any to let it go, so you’d said yes. Now, when there isn’t much to say, all of Jeongguk’s flimsy excuses are laid bare. Transparent.

“Was Jimin there?”

Jeongguk nods. “You didn’t know?”

You shake your head. Feels like it’s made of concrete. “No. We haven’t talked since last winter break.”

“Because of—”

How cruel, that you’d confessed to Jimin instead of the one person who deserved to know. “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

You shrug again. “It’s okay. I don’t think it’s permanent, just until I can get my shit together, I guess. Wasn’t fair to drag him into my mess anyway.”

“It’s not that easy,” Jeongguk says, and it sounds like something he wants to be true. It sounds like something he’s said countless times in defense of himself. “We’d—I’d do it if I could.”

“Yeah,” you agree, “of course.”

Silence creeps up again, so you dig another cigarette out of the pack and offer one to Jeongguk that he waves away. “Cloves? That’s a weird choice.”

“Just something I picked up along the way.”

He hears you again: They’re what she used to smoke. It helps me heal to hurt myself with something that reminds me of her. Sometimes I chain-smoke clove cigarettes and I don’t wash the smell from my hands, my clothes, my hair, because it makes me feel less alone.

So he asks, “Was it real?”

“Doesn’t matter,” you answer, flicking the wheel of your lighter, words spoken around the cigarette stuck between your lips. “It never had a chance. Not a real one, anyway.”

“Do your parents know?”

“Know what? That I went away to college and started fucking women?” Jeongguk shrugs. Has the audacity to look embarrassed. “What are you trying to ask me? You wanna know if I keep coming back to you because I’m scared to come out to my parents?”

“No. I don’t know. I just—”

The laugh that escapes you is scorched and bitter. Sounds the way the tobacco tastes. “No, Jeongguk. I keep coming back to you because I keep hoping you’ll ask me to.” I keep hoping you still want me.

“I almost did,” he admits, and you can hear how he swallows around the lump in his throat. “The first time.”

“When you were a dick about me sleeping with someone else? Yeah, okay. You didn’t want me back, you just didn’t want me to be with anyone else.”

He huffs. “How the fuck do you know what I want? You’ve never bothered to ask.”

“Because it doesn’t matter,” comes your response, stilted and practiced. “It doesn’t matter what we want, because we’re just going to keep hurting one another trying to get it right.” You suck in a breath, wipe furiously at the tears on your cheeks. “And we’re never going to.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Then ask.” Jeongguk startles, looks at you with wide eyes. “Ask me to come back for real, Jeongguk, and I will.”

A beat of silence.

Two, three, four.

Someone sets off another round of fireworks. A dog barks. It’s so cold that you can see Jeongguk’s breath each time he exhales, each time he breathes out instead of speaking. All the words he isn’t saying. And it’s exactly how you knew it would go, but it does nothing to tamp down the devastation in your chest.

You’d confessed your transgressions to Jimin and thought your silence to your ex-girlfriend was a gift, that it was sparing her the pain of what you’d done. Now you understand that someone’s silence can be the most vicious thing of all.

[ the last. ] Graduation looms. It’s the last winter break you’re spending at home.

Your therapist suspects you get your compartmentalism from your parents.

They don’t mention it. They see the stack of boxes and your bare bedroom walls and they don’t say a word about any of it. They watch you pack everything in your car and don’t offer to help. They process their grief silently, and when you can’t stand it anymore, you say, “I dated a woman my senior year of undergrad, you know.”

They don’t say anything to that, either, but it feels good to tell them. Feels a little like freedom and reclamation, like you can be who you are in front of others.

When you leave for good, you don’t want to repackage all those same skeletons.

So you meet Jimin for lunch and you take it in stride that everything is weird, that there’s nearly two years of silence to fill. You don’t ask for forgiveness and he doesn’t demand it of you, just asks if you’re doing better. “I’m doing the best I can,” you answer, and it’s human and honest enough that he accepts it with a warm smile.

Jeongguk is more difficult.

There’s no way to neatly box up that kind of baggage.

You’d intended to stop by his apartment to talk, tell him you aren’t coming back anymore. There’s nothing left here for you, you’d told him, and there was a flash of something. A there’s me, isn’t there? that had gone unsaid, destined for the same fate as a million other unspoken words between you.

Because there is him, but there’s also the way you’re desperately trying to claw back into something resembling normalcy. You’d lost yourself when you also lost Jeongguk, and you need to figure out who you are without him. You need to know who you are once you stop running and let your demons catch up with you. You need to hear what they have to say.

Maybe Jeongguk had said it best last year—“It’s not that easy. I’d do it if I could.”—because you’re nothing if not predictable and self-destructive.

You’re nothing if not naked and on your back beneath him, your fingers threaded through his hair as he rocks his hips into you, more tender than you deserve. His lips are ghosting along your skin and every press feels like a brand. Feels like he’s both making a mockery of you and declaring you ruined for anyone who might come after him. Feels like you’ll love him until you die.

(Some version of you must exist outside of Jeongguk’s grasp—outside of his orbit, his bed—but right now, as he twines your fingers together and pins them above your head, you can’t figure out who she might be.)

Eight months had been a long time to think of all the things you wanted to say, and four years is worse. Four years, and you still can’t bring yourself to ask him to try again, but there’s nothing after this, nothing to lose, so your voice is hoarse and raw when you say, “Jeongguk,” and he groans a little, nips at the column of your throat because he loves the way you say his name. “Jeongguk,” you repeat, because he senses the urgency, hears what you aren’t saying.

“Yeah, baby, say it. Whatever it is, tell me.”

He rolls his hips faster. Before, he would’ve tried to prolong the ending, but he’s hurtling towards it now. There’s nothing after this, you know, but you need the confirmation. You need to finally put all of this to rest. “I want to—” His cock strokes someplace that whites out your vision. “Fuck, want to—want you to come with me.”

He laughs, full of himself, probably smirking out the side of his mouth. “Keep squeezing me like that and I will soon.”

“No,” you insist, shocked at the conviction in your voice, “when I leave. Come with me.”

Everything slows. Jeongguk pulls back, moves his hands to cover himself, and there’s nothing but cold confusion in his absence. “What?”

“I didn’t ask you before. Last year. I just—I left it up to you, and you’re right, I didn’t ask what you wanted, but I didn’t tell you what I wanted, either. But I’m telling you now. I’m asking—”

There was never going to be anything after this.

Jeongguk’s silence says it all.

The way he pulls out and rolls you onto your stomach. The way he fucks as fast and as hard as he can. The way he used to love you openly and honestly and now holds whatever’s left close to his chest like it’s something to be ashamed of.

Someone’s silence can always be the most vicious thing of all.

Roll credits.

thank you so much for reading, and an additional thank you in advance if you decide to reblog my work. as always, my inbox is always open for any feedback! ♡

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #bts x reader #bts x you #bts angst #bts smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic

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faebaex · 2 years ago

Note

Hi? It's my first requests, so if you don't mind could you please do GN!MC stingrays × octavinelle?

(I'm sorry if i have grammatical mistake)

Have a great day Author-nim ♡

Octavinelle with a Stringray Reader

author note: hiii welcome! i feel like it is going to become my mission to turn every imaginable sea creature into a reader (✯◡✯) i'm up for the challenge! this was really fun to write! also, accidental sugar daddy Azul? Accidental sugar daddy Azul <(￣︶￣)>

characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech x GN!Stringray Reader

background:

You are a stringray mer, specifically of Bluespotted Ribbontail species. You are considered quite attractive, and your small stature and timid nature only add to your allure. Despite having quite potent venom, your spinal blade does not carry over to your human form.

Azul Ashengrotto

Oh you poor, sweet summer child.

The first time Azul laid eyes on you, people swear they could see thaumark signs in his eyes.

It was like someone has personally delivered prey to him.

But he was doing you a favour, you know?

With your timid and tender nature, it was only a matter of time before one of the many rogues at this school took advantage of you.

But luckily for you, he can offer you protection. Just sign here and... Perfect. That was easy, wasn't it?

And that is how you began working as a server at the Mostro Lounge, in exchange for Azul's 'protection'.

You quickly became the most popular server at the Lounge, your attractive appearance and nervous, stuttery service becoming a hit with the clientele. Poor little thing, you tug just right on their heartstrings.

Azul was surprised. Whilst he was expecting you to have some popularity (exactly the reason he preyed on you in the first place), he wasn't expecting you to blow up like this.

But he isn't complaining! Celebrating, in fact. Sales have never been better, and seasonal specials have been selling out faster than normal since you joined his staff.

Anyone who goes in the VIP room after hours will see a huge grin on Azul's face as he pours over the business ledgers.

Its because of this that Azul starts to spoil you.

It starts small at first, an extra 15 minute break here and there, a side you hadn't asked for slipped on to your employee meal.

Soon enough, you are granted exclusive access to the VIP room, a perk that was only afforded to the twins up until now.

Oh and what a coincidence, you'll find a study guide for that class you are struggling with on the VIP room table as you take your break. It must have been left out after a client meeting... No harm in you thumbing through it whilst you take your break, Azul would coo.

Azul tries to be discreet, especially once the twins cotton on to your special treatment, with Jade flashing a sharp toothed eerie grin and Floyd complaining that he too wants free study guides.

Azul could justify it, of course, with that you are their best server, in order to maximise the hours you could work, he needed to ensure no other aspect of your life got in the way.

He was definitely justifying it more to himself than he was the twins.

So come, dear. Let him show you your new special uniform for the lunar new year seasonal service...

Jade Leech

You make work so much more fun for him.

Watching you quiver and almost drop a glass when he creeps up behind you and places a hand on your shoulder is just precious.

"Oya, oya. Those glasses are quite delicate. Do be careful."

However, despite the fact that he slyly bullies you for fun, he is a very good manager.

He will always ensure you take your break on time, and that your employee meal is ordered far enough in advance that it is ready for you as soon as you sit down on your break.

And should any particularly rowdy clientele decide to bother you...

Then he will ensure they are dealt with <3

It is his favourite part of the night, after all. How he adores it when you hide behind him.

Jade ropes you into his sneaky work agendas too.

For example, he'll coach you into pushing the mushroom dishes to customers so that he can stop Azul from taking them off the menu.

Probably the least sinister smiles you've received from him are when he beams at you when you deliver a bunch of mushroom dish orders to the kitchen.

Jade will stand with the most innocent smile as Azul looks on in confusion through the order ledger and the sudden influx of mushroom cuisine orders, with you hidden behind Jade.

Azul: "Why are they tucked behind you like that?"

Jade: "They're tired. :) "

Considering the nature of your 'deal' with Azul, Jade's protection of you extends outside of the Lounge into your school life.

But that doesn't mean it is convenient, even if it is effective.

He terrifies you just as much as the people around you, after all.

However it has its perks.

The lunch line is infinitely easier when you have a 190cm eel ensuring that you don't get caught in the lunch crush.

He likes to tell you over lunch how his favourite food is octopus when Azul is sitting right there.

He'll then remark, with the most unassuming of smiles, how he hasn't tried stingray yet.

Funnily enough, you don't feel so hungry anymore.

Floyd Leech

Oh dear.

This man terrorises you.

You're just so cute to him! Especially when you tremble and tear up when he spooks you.

He just wants to tuck you under his arm and keep you <3

Floyd is constantly on your heels when you are working. Whether he is spooking you or draping himself over you, he's always somehow impeding your work.

Azul is constantly scolding Floyd and tries his best to keep you separated, so that Floyd's behaviour does not bother you. Or effect profits.

Jade just looks on in amusement.

Despite the above, your relationship with Floyd isn't all bad.

You and Floyd take your breaks together, simply because he stops working when you do and throws himself over your lap when you sit down to rest.

He's fairly calmer then, passing the time by showing you pictures of clothes he is thinking of buying and asking your opinion on them.

You caused a few mood swings at first when you didn't give a good enough response, but after awhile you got comfortable enough to give him your honest opinion. That makes him happy!

He also shows you his basketball videos, even if most of them are just Ace getting taken out by one of his basketball throws.

He's definitely roped you in to going to practice with him one time. He thinks it would be funny watching you struggle to make the hoop.

Floyd is also the cause of one of your most terrifying incidents at NRC.

On one of your rare days off, you were taking a swim in the Octavinelle pool to relax and reacquaint yourself with the water, and Floyd snuck up on you and scared you.

And well...

You almost skewered him with your spinal blade.

You narrowly missed stabbing him right in the stomach. Even Floyd was shocked but the suddenness of it.

... Until the giddiest grin spread across his face and he started cackling.

You, on the other hand, started bawling your eyes out.

Floyd ended up carrying you to the Lounge because you wouldn't stop crying.

He sat you on a barstool whilst Jade prepared you a drink and Floyd went into the kitchen to steal you some ice cream.

Floyd then gushed to Jade about how cool you were when you almost stabbed him with your tail blade and how sharp it looked.

He looks freakishly delighted when he remarks that maybe next time you'll actually get him.

If you did, he'd probably wear it as a badge of honour and show it off to everyone shamelessly.

Meanwhile, Azul comes to check what all the noise is and pretends to be upset that the twins are giving out free refreshment, like he doesn't do that himself.

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst azul #azul ashengrotto #twst jade #jade leech #twst floyd #floyd leech #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #octavinelle #azul ashengrotto x y/n #jade leech x y/n #floyd leech x y/n

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asdfghjklmals · 1 year ago

Text

WHEREVER YOU ARE✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, fluff, angst. WORD COUNT: 3.6k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc, established couple. adoptedkiddo! tsumiki.

SYNOPSIS: tsumiki wants to study abroad for high school, but satoru gojo is against it. will satoru let tsumiki go? AUTHOR'S NOTE: ***manga spoilers*** because of what happened to tsumiki in the manga, i decided to write a more wholesome version of what i would think tsumiki would've wanted to do. she is going to make small appearances and still have her name mentioned in my future fics, but this is dedicated to her. and because i think satoru loved having her as his child 💚 REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions instead, please do!

you sat down on the couch, “satoru, we need to talk.”

“i swear, babe, it wasn’t megumi’s fault.” he stared at you innocently with his hands raised.

“megumi?” you looked at him, brows furrowed and confused, “no, babe, we need to talk about tsumiki.”

satoru sighed in relief, glad he didn’t get himself in trouble. he didn’t want you to find out about megumi getting sent to the principal’s office for fighting at school today. that was another lecture for another day.

“what’s going on with my favorite child?” satoru joked, putting his arm around your shoulder.

you explained the situation to satoru, “now that tsumiki is graduating middle school, we had a grown adult talk about her future plans. she told me she wants to study abroad for high school. she wants to learn english so she can teach kids here in japan after she graduates.”

“absolutely not. she’s staying here.” satoru said without even thinking. no reasoning to support his decision.

“but babe, i think it’s a good idea. she’s 15 and starting high school next year. there are good study abroad programs out there. and it's great to live in country of the language you want to the learn.” you said, trying to justify tsumiki’s decision to satoru.

“no, (y/n).” he said sternly. since when did he ever directly call you by your first name instead of a petname? and since when did he want to play patriarch? you were usually the shot-caller in this household.

it was time for the back up plan if all else failed. kisses. you grabbed satoru’s hand and peppered it with your soft lips. “please? for me and tsumiki?”

he looked at you and took his hand away. you stared back at him in disbelief, “satoru gojo, what is your problem today?” even the government name didn’t make him flinch like it usually did.

he never acted like this, even when he disagreed with you, he was usually calm and rational. he would have data and reasons to back up his decisions, but not today.

“i just don’t think a 15 year old girl needs to go study abroad in another country without her guardians.” he said bitterly, “and that’s final.”

he removed his hand from your thigh and got up from the couch, leaving you alone in the living room as he made his way to the patio to join catoru in the sun. your jaw dropped. what was wrong with him today?

later that night: tsumiki's room

“(y/n), did you ask gojo-sensei if i can study abroad?” tsumiki asked curiously as you towel dried her long brown hair for her. she had spent the last week convincing you about letting her attend a private academy in california, and you were totally on board with it until satoru shot you down earlier today.

“i did… he wasn’t too happy to hear what i had to say though.” you frowned at her. she looked at you with sad eyes.

“what did he say?”

“he thinks that you’re too young to study abroad and that you should stay here in japan with us.”

“i’m not a baby, (y/n).” tsumiki said, “why can’t gojo-sensei see that i can take care of myself?”

you thought out loud, “maybe because you’re his little girl... his partner in crime. he doesn’t want to lose that. you know what a softie he is.”

“yeah, but it’s not like i'll be gone forever! i can come home for the semester breaks and i’ll always have my cell phone with me!”

“i know, sweetheart. coming from how i grew up, i think this would be a great experience for you.” you commented as you thought about how you wanted to attend jujutsu high instead of being homeschooled when you were tsumiki’s age. (read ‘love at first fight’ here)

tsumiki sighed in defeat, “can’t you give him a kiss or something? he never says no to you.”

“believe me, i tried.” you chuckled, “he pushed me away and said no.” you and tsumiki both knew satoru gojo's weaknesses.

“what?!” tsumiki gasped, “that man is so obsessed with you and he did what?!”

“i know, that’s the last time he’ll be getting any kisses from me.” you stated, sitting down on her bed.

“well, that’s just mean.” satoru interrupted your girls only conversation. his tall frame leaning against tsumiki's bedroom door, arms folded.

tsumiki smiled, “oh, hi gojo-sensei!”

“hi tsumiki.” satoru greeted her, sitting down on her bed next to you. tsumiki sat on the floor. “(y/n) says you have something you wanted to talk to me about.”

"oh... yes!" tsumiki nervously laughed, scratching the back of her head. "well, since i'm graduating middle school, i wanted to ask you and (y/n) if i can attend this boarding school in california. it's called e.f. academy."

"okay, if you're going to go this far away, you're going to have to convince me. so tell me more." satoru encouraged her.

"well..." tsumiki started to word vomit, "it's a private high school academy with small classes. they have a lot of extra curricular activities and travel opportunities. they'll prepare me for college. they have advisors that i can talk to if we need anything..."

"tsumiki, can't you do all of this here? why do you have to go so far away?" satoru asked. this was his way of being 'reasonable'. he was starting to ask questions so he could make the best decision.

tsumiki was smart and calculated, just as you and satoru raised her to be. she started her rebuttal, "you and (y/n) have always taught me and megumi that we are not going to grow if we don't step out of our comfort zone. you even told megumi to be greedier, so this is me being greedy."

satoru nodded his head, "okay. give me a week to think about it. don't bother (y/n) and don't ask her to give me kisses because that's unfair."

you smiled as you watched satoru and tsumiki talk. they were really a father-daughter duo, partners in crime, two peas in a pod. you missed the days where your 6 year old adopted daughter used to keep your 18 year old boyfriend in check.

"really? you'll really think about it?" tsumiki asked satoru with a hopeful gleam in her eye.

"yes. i promise." he answered.

tsumiki stuck out her pinky as satoru laughed. he intertwined his pinky with hers, both of them kissing their pinkies to seal the deal. (read 'pinky promises' here)

one week later: satoru's office

satoru knew that he only had one week to make a decision that would change his life and ultimately, tsumiki's life. megumi and you were all for tsumiki studying abroad, while he was the only one against it.

"she's the only one that doesn't have cursed energy. she can't see curses and she can't attend jujutsu high with us." megumi's comment ran through satoru's mind. it was true, being the only one who couldn't see curses or practice jujutsu in the family could feel alien. but tsumiki never expressed that she felt alone.

satoru sighed while he sat in his expensive office chair. he knew that he was going to have to give tsumiki an answer today. he still wanted to say no, but his heart knew the right decision was to say yes and let her be free to be her own person.

he heard a knock on his office door. the four signature knocks signaling it was you (or him). ten years later, that has never changed.

"gojo-sensei?" your saccharine voice called out for him as you opened his door.

he greeted you with a bright flashy smile, "i love it when you call me that."

you rolled your emerald green eyes at him as you made your way towards his desk, sitting against it. "did you make a decision yet?"

"i'm thinking about it." he mused.

"you know our baby girl is waiting for an answer. she's at cheer practice right now, so she should be home at 6 today." you commented.

"let me take one last walk and i promise i'll be home on time for dinner." satoru huffed. you leaned down to kiss him before heading back to your office. he grabbed your hand, stopping you.

"wait, can i get another kiss?" he requested with a shit-eating grin.

your radiant laugh filled his office. he peeked one of his shiny blue eyes out of his blindfold. you turned back around to grab his chin with your hand.

"see you at home." you whispered, kissing him again fervently.

***************************************

satoru decided to take the long way home instead of teleporting. he wanted the last couple hours to himself to think.

why was he so against tsumiki studying abroad? he thought about the conversation he had with you last night.

"i think you have abandonment issues, satoru. that's why you won't let tsumiki leave japan." you realized as he pulled you closer to him in bed, your gentle hand resting against his bare chest.

"hmmm. you think so?" he mumbled, pulling your chin up for a sweet peck on the lips.

"i know so."

abandonment. the first person who came to satoru's mind was suguru geto, his bestfriend. the original partner in crime. a person who he loved and cared about til' this day.

"losing suguru really changed you, babe. and that's okay. you've become a better man because of it." you said softly.

"i guess you're right." satoru acknowledged. he sighed deeply and closed his eyes. he felt your delicate breathing against his skin as he fell asleep.

it was true, what you had said. satoru didn't want to be left behind again. even though he knew that tsumiki wasn't actually leaving him behind, he didn't like the fact that another person he loved and cared about wasn't going to always be present in his life.

he knew that if he kept her here, she would just grow up pushing him away or maybe even resenting him. and he couldn't have that. he knew what he had to do. he was going to let tsumiki go.

later that night: family dinner

"so... did you make a decision, gojo-sensei?" tsumiki interjected at dinner.

yours and megumi's green eyes met at the dinner table. the ball was in satoru's court now.

"i did, sweetheart." satoru said calmly. you and megumi extremely curious, tsumiki's heart beating quickly.

"you can go."

"really?!" tsumiki jumped out of her chair.

"really." satoru confirmed.

tsumiki cheered and squealed in delight. running to hug satoru. she ran to her room and grabbed her acceptance letter to show the white haired sorcerer.

"you already have an acceptance letter?" megumi questioned his sister.

"they have a 99% acceptance rate, so it doesn't matter. but i wanted to show gojo-sensei anyways." she beamed.

"i guess they just let anyone into that school." megumi muttered. you kicked him under the table as he shot a glare black at you.

"when is the first day?" satoru asked you and tsumiki.

you answered, "classes start in two weeks. i already bought our plane tickets and made sure our passports were good to go, tsumiki has her student visa ready as well."

"you already bought our plane tickets?" satoru questioned, chuckling, "and what were you going to do if i said no?"

"i knew you wouldn't have said no, babe. you can't say no to me or tsumiki to save your life." you grinned.

"she's right about that." megumi added. tsumiki nodding in agreement. she did get catoru because satoru said yes. (read 'the purrr-fect approach' here)

"i can definitely say no to (y/n)." satoru defended himself as his family ganged up on him.

you picked up your empty plate, and walked to satoru side, "can i get a kiss before i start the dishes?"

"sure, babe." he replied with no hesitation as he gave you a quick peck, unaware of your tricky mind games.

"see? you can't say no." you laughed as you picked up the rest of the empty dinner plates and utensils.

"what did i say about using kisses as a weapon?!" satoru complained. "that's so unfair!"

the dining room was filled with laughter from you, megumi, tsumiki, and satoru.

two weeks later: tsumiki fushiguro takes california

satoru was glued to tsumiki by the hip for the past two weeks. they went shopping together for all her academic needs, for new clothes, a laptop, and a new matching backpack and suitcase. they went to get their hair cut together, and even got their nails done together (satoru loved getting pedicures, you thought it was because of the foot massages). he wanted to spend as much time with tsumiki as possible before parting ways.

orientation for tsumiki's school was a two day event. during the first day, the families would be given a tour of the school and then everyone would attend a social hour to get to know the faculty and other students. the second day, the families would help their student move into their dorms and say their goodbyes until semester break in the late fall, early winter.

during the first day of orientation, tsumiki had already started to make friends. she was just like you. beautiful, nice, caring, friendly. people wanted to be around her and wanted to be her friend. you and satoru watched from the sidelines of the gymnasium as tsumiki mingled with her new classmates.

"are you still worried about her? she's already getting used to things here." you tried to comfort satoru as you watched your future high schooler.

"i was hoping she'd beg us to take her home." satoru frowned. you smacked his chest playfully with the back of your hand.

"mr. and mrs. gojo," a student aide approached the both of you, "can you sign these papers for tsumiki? these are the final documents for admissions."

"sure thing." satoru replied, grabbing the clipboard and pen from the student aide. you waited until they walked away to turn to satoru.

"mr. and mrs. gojo. what did you think about that?" you sneered.

satoru chuckled as he signed the document, "sounds like music to my ears."

"give me a 10 carat diamond ring first, babe." you grinned as satoru handed you the clipboard to sign the document too.

satoru gojo would give you the world if you asked for it.

"(y/n)! gojo-sensei!" tsumiki shouted from across the gymnasium to catch your attention. she waved while pointing at the two of you. she was showing her new friends who her cool and awesome parents were. you and satoru waved back at her, giving her both of your world-class smiles.

***************************************

satoru used blue to hold up all of tsumiki's luggage as the three of you made your way to the dorm room that tsumiki would be staying in. you and satoru paid extra to make sure that she would get her own room. you sat down on the empty bed, tsumiki joining you.

"what do you think, sweetheart?"

"with a little extra decorating, i can make it look like my room at home." she said with a bright smile.

you and satoru helped put on the bed spread, duvet cover, and pillow cases while tsumiki unpacked her clothes and placed them into her small dresser.

you could feel satoru tensing up, his cursed energy spiking every now and then. he was dreading saying goodbye to tsumiki. whenever he would look at you, you would give him a soft smile and rub his back in reassurance.

"gojo-sensei, (y/n), look what megumi gave me for my dorm room." tsumiki's brown eyes twinkled as she showed you a pink sparkly picture frame.

the picture frame contents were of the four of you. it was a recent picture from tsumiki's 15th birthday. you had your arms around megumi while satoru had his arms around tsumiki. it was a rare occasion that megumi was smiling in a picture. tsumiki's signature bright smile lit up the picture. you could feel the love radiating from the frame.

"megumi says that this picture will be a reminder of home and that you all love me."

"he's right." you patted her head, brushing her brown hair. "are you sure you want to do this? it's not too late to change your mind. we can go back home if you want."

"no, i'm sure!" tsumiki said confidently.

you laughed, "you're breaking satoru's heart, baby girl." you hugged satoru, his arms were folded as he quietly laughed, shaking his head.

***************************************

you and satoru spent your last couple of hours with tsumiki reminiscing about her younger days and what kind of child she was growing up.

"remember the day that satoru lost you and megumi at kanda matsuri? i was going to have a heart attack."

satoru shot you a glare, "in my defense, there are thousands of people at that festival. it's one of japan's big three festivals! they were like four feet tall at the time! i told you we needed to get them those child leashes."

"you were such a responsible girl, going to the lost and found." you ignored satoru and laughed, remembering that tsumiki went to the lost and found to have the festival employee announce 'satoru gojo, can you please come to the lost and found to pick up your children'.

"remember the one day gojo-sensei forgot your anniversary?" tsumiki peered at satoru, giggling.

"oh god... don't bring that up." satoru hid his face in his hands.

"what was that? our third year of dating?" you asked satoru, "and your cute 9 year old partner in crime saved you that day. she went to the flower shop down the street and bought lilies with your credit card."

"then how did you find out that i forgot if she saved me?" satoru interrupted you.

"because you always get me roses, even though my favorite flowers are lilies. not only is tsumiki responsible, she's extremely thoughtful." (read 'lilies and roses' here)

"remember when tsumiki brought me a homemade lunch for teachers day?" satoru smiled at the fond memory. tsumiki was only 8 years old when satoru got an official teaching position at jujutsu high.

"it was her idea too," you reminded satoru, "she asked me to help her bring your lunch to the school that day. our baby girl is so caring. what did we do to deserve such an amazing daughter?" you gushed at your 15 year old, hugging her tightly. tsumiki just smiled and laughed like she always did.

"i think i'm the lucky one too! what did me and megumi do to deserve such loving adoptive parents?!" she remarked.

"all you two had to do was look cute. that's why i picked you two up off the streets." satoru joked. (read 'learn to love' here)

you heard a knock on tsumiki's dorm door, tsumiki opening it. the resident assistant announced, "curfew is starting soon. parents are going to be saying goodbye to their students in the courtyard."

you felt satoru's cursed energy spike again. he wasn't ready for this moment, and honestly, neither were you. you weren't sure what was going to break your heart the most: letting tsumiki go or watching satoru leave a piece of his (still) healing heart behind.

you and satoru quietly followed behind tsumiki as she confidently led the way to the courtyard. it was like she belonged here at the academy the way she navigated through the halls. the courtyard was dimly lit, the california skyline in the background, clouds kissing the top of the city buildings.

you watched as satoru sneakily wiped his tears away from his cerulean blue eyes. he crouched down, softly smiling at tsumiki.

“you gonna be okay without your partner in crime?” he asked her.

as strong as tsumiki was, her brave face started to falter. her warm brown eyes brimmed with tears as she ran into satoru’s arms for one last hug before you and satoru had to leave the campus.

tsumiki babbled through her tears, “thanks for letting me come to school here… i promise i’ll study really hard... i love you and (y/n) so much. you two are the best mom and dad ever.”

satoru scoffed through his tears and continued to hold her. you put a reassuring hand on satoru’s shoulder, joining them for a group hug. tsumiki looked up at the both of you with flushed cheeks.

you kissed the top of her precious head, an action that she never grew out of (and you hoped she never would). you smiled back at her with tears in your eyes, “wherever you are, baby girl, satoru and i will always be one call away. we love you and we’re so proud of you, tsumiki.”

"no boyfriends, please." satoru added with a chuckle. he didn't think he could handle another heart attack.

EXTRA:

"did you see how much tuition costs at tsumiki's boarding school?" you asked satoru as he sat down in his first class airline seat.

"no, i didn't even bother check the brochure they handed us at orientation." satoru stretched his long legs, "how much could a high school tuition cost? one or two thousand a year?"

you just laughed at his ridiculous comment. you were amused at how naive he was.

"what? why are you laughing?"

"try seventy, babe." you stared at him. satoru looked like he was going to have a brain aneurysm.

"seventy what? seventy dollars or seventy thousand?"

you annunciated each word clearly so he could understand you. "seventy. thousand. dollars. a. year."

satoru fake-clutched his chest, "we have to go back and withdraw her, immediately."

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

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cultven · 3 months ago

Text

His Last Plea

Deadpool X Reader

Content: ANGST, you break up with Wade but you honestly have a justified reason to do so, you both love each other, just lots of tears and angst ugh, no comfort, some cursing

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Just lots of angst and heartbreak

a/n: I DON’T KNOW WHY I WROTE THIS WADE ILY YOU DONT DESERVE THIS ;( As an apology if enough people want a part 2 I will gladly write one...

“You’re over two hours late.”

“I know baby, I was just-”

“You promised you would be here this time. You promised you would actually fucking try to show up. This is our third reschedule with my parents Wade, do you know how bad this looks on us.” You stand in your shared living room all dolled up, blankly staring at Wade who looks like a deer in headlights. Contrasting to your beautiful skin-tight dress, Wade was in his Deadpool suit, blood casually splattered on the fabric. Once again, he prioritized his mercenary work over your personal lives, and you are at your wits end with him. It was insulting.

Wade carefully inched further into the apartment, testing the waters. “I’m sorry baby, really I just got caught up trying to kill this one guy. He locked himself in a safe room like a pussy and he’s like a really bad guy so I had to keep trying!” This apology may have worked the first or second time, but this was the third. The third time you had to explain to your parents Wade was a busy man, too busy for dinners with family. The third time you walked back to your apartment alone, fighting the tears lingering in your eyes. The third time you swore to yourself you wouldn’t put up with it any longer, and you were finally ready to uphold that promise.

At this point Wade was only a few feet away from you before he ripped off his mask, finally revealing his distraught expression. His hand begins to reach out before you put a hand up, promptly stopping the action. “I can’t do it anymore Wade. I’m sorry.”

“No… Baby girl, just give me one more chance, I swear to God I will be better.” His voice was now shaky, scared of losing the one thing in his life that had kept him going all this time. He knows he should have been better and more attentive, but his profession has him chained to a post. Who was going to do the dirty work when Spidey works under a ‘no kill rule’?

“I’ve given you chances! You blew them, you always do.” It hurt to say these words to Wade, you still cared about him, which was why the situation stung so hard. You wish you could just forget about this night entirely and curl up with your sweet boyfriend on the couch, but you knew this was needed. If things didn’t change now they never would.

“Please...” Wade choked up, sensing this wasn’t something he could smooth talk his way out of. “I’ll burn this damn suit, it’ll be a memory, long forgotten. We can set a new date for dinner and I will be there. I always will be from now on.” You wanted to believe the bargaining but you couldn’t gaslight yourself into thinking this would be it for Deadpool. You knew it wouldn’t be, even if Wade thought it was.

“Wade be serious, you can’t give up your mercenary life. You will always return to it, whether you believe it or not. You are Deadpool and Deadpool is you.” You subconsciously began rubbing your arms, all of a sudden feeling small. Your eyes are now downcasted towards the floor, the confrontation killing you. You hated talking to him like this. “I know there is nothing I can say or do to stop you from being Deadpool, but it is killing you, Wade. It is killing us. Your immortality may spare you from physical death, but you will emotionally die on the hill of trying to use your powers for good. It takes a toll on people, constantly being out in the field as a human punching bag.” A shaky breath falls from your lips as you find the strength to look back up at the man in front of you.

It was unsettling the way he was just standing there, looking at you. Actually, upon closer inspection, it seemed like he was looking just past you instead, dazed in his own world. As if he hadn’t heard a word you said. Abruptly, a stray tear fell down his face, wetting the tumored skin under it. “I want to be better for you.” That was all he said.

“I know, honey.”

“So then let me be. Let me try.” His last hope, his last plea for you. Wade’s body was shaking, but he had yet to notice.

“We both know I can’t.” That was all it took for a stream of tears to envelop both your faces. You were just two people madly in love living worlds apart. Truly the heartbreak was your own fault, you two should have figured it wouldn’t have worked. Between a superhero and a regular civilian, it never does.

It was your turn to step forward, hand coming to rest on Deadpool’s cheekbones. Your thumb absentmindedly rubbed the wet tears away, feeling the surprisingly soft skin of his cheek. Now closer to his face you begin to whisper. “Do you know what it feels like to have your partner come home bloody every night? Bruised and battered. I know it doesn’t hurt and I know you can’t die, but what if that’s just because you haven’t found what can kill you yet? The stress of it all overtakes me, Wade. I stress so much because I love you so much and I can’t take it.” Your own set of tears grows heavier. With the already close proximity of your bodies, Wade pulls you into a hug where you both crumble to the ground.

Tears mix and spill onto the fake hardwood floor as hands eagerly grasp the others’ bodies. “I don’t want to love you as much as I do. Because it just makes it so much harder.” You sob, your whisper now coming out with a much wetter tone. Wade only nods into your neck where his face hides, his arms grip your body tightly, knowing this may just be the last time he has the right to do so.

After a long moment of selfishly drinking Wade in one last time, you lift your head and land a short, soft kiss on Wade’s cheek. You begin to rise, legs wobbling and chest heaving. You knew if you didn’t leave now you never would. “Baby?” Wade whimpers, knowing this is the end.

“I have to go.”

“Where?” It was a valid question, the two of you had shared an apartment for a year now.

“My sister’s. She knows about everything now and said I could crash there for a bit.” Wade only nodded, not fully processing the fact that you were leaving. God damn it he wanted to rip his heart out from how much it hurt. When he heard about heartaches he didn’t think it was such a literal term.

“Will you be back?”

“I hope not.” You walked past the mess of a man on the floor, reaching the apartment door. Taking one glance back, you took in one last image of what was once you and Wade’s oasis. “Goodbye Wade, maybe under different circumstances we could have been what we wanted to be.” You left, the door clicking shut.

With that goodbye, Wade let himself fully break down, sobs racking through his chest. Perhaps he was doomed to a life of perpetual darkness and pain. He thought he had escaped the dark once you so gingerly entered his life, but of course, he had to fucking mess that up too. You were the one good thing to happen to him, the one person who treated him like an actual human instead of some fucked up science experiment. You made him feel loved, not ashamed of his appearance or crude sense of humor. You were love.

Wade’s hands vigorously began ripping the now too-tight suit off his disgusting body. Oh God, how he wished he could just die. It really was one of God’s best fucking jokes he couldn’t. He began to crawl into your shared bed, laying on his respective side. If you could see him right now you would be exceptionally pissed at the fact he hadn’t showered beforehand and was now getting old crusted blood on your duvet. Well, good thing you couldn’t see him then, huh? Wade sighed, grabbing one of your pillows and bear-hugging it, attempting to capture your scent in his nose permanently. There he tried his best to lull himself to sleep despite the constant berating from the boxes and the consistent ache in his chest.

#deadpool movie #deadpool #deadpool 3 #deadpool x reader #deadpool and wolverine #wade wilson #wade wilson x you #wade wilson imagine #wade wilson x y/n #wade wilson x reader #deadpool fanfiction #angst #no happy ending #no comfort #im so sorry #im sorry #requests open

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mal3vol3nt · 5 months ago

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This is kinda a long read. But I wanna ask your opinion on this. I see this one post saying Zutara is a purely female fantasy and that’s why so many people hate it. Basically saying it was made for girls, by girls, it has everything a girl wants in a relationship and “When people attack the idea of Zutara, this is fundamentally what they're attacking-women and girls wanting better for themselves in a relationship.”

Now I am just a man. But I think this argument especially the latter part is such a reach and a cope. I don’t see how shipping a fanon ship is some big feminist thing. There are women I know who love Kataang (and if you ask me most of what they’re describing Zutara is actually Kataang in disguise) and there are some guys who like Zutara (which is perfectly fine as long as you don’t write a slave-fic about it like this one guy.

Call me insensitive, but it seems like this guy has some weird victim complex.

Here’s the link BTW:

https://www.tumblr.com/longing-for-rain/753424994905800704/this-isnt-a-question-about-whether-or-not-zutara?source=share

i agree with you anon. i think it’s very silly that these people think a fandom ship is the peak of activism/feminism. such a claim, dare i say, reeks of white feminism, especially when you take into account that the ship they’re claiming is “so feminist” is a relationship between a canonical colonizer and a victim of genocide

the things the op of that zutara post listed are all very westernized “issues” that they claim shipping zutara is supposedly fighting against while also praising western standards, such as saying that zutara is for the girls who want to be with a man they’re attracted to, directly saying that aang is unattractive because he doesn’t fit western beauty standards whereas zuko does. as well as saying zutara is for the girls who want passion in their relationships, directly saying that zuko’s hot-headedness and western masculine qualities are hotter than aang’s pacifism and him being a monk. this claim is also pretty on par with how zutaras sexualize the relationship between zuko and katara, which i don’t even want to get into for obvious reasons. needless to say, i think all of these claims are very very stupid and so obviously come from someone who gravitates towards the racism of the show. sorry not sorry

these claims also come from someone who twists aang’s character so that they feel more justified in hating him, and who twist katara and zuko’s characters so their ship works better. because at no point in the show does it ever feel like katara is changing herself to be with aang, as if she would ever do that (i can tell this is a southern raiders argument—i swear these people misread and latch onto everything). at no point in the show does it ever feel like katara is unattracted to aang, especially since she’s the one who initiates both the first and the last kiss between them, is constantly touching him, and gives him kisses on the cheek in a way she doesn’t do with any one else (she also audibly gasps when she first sees his tattoos in episode 1, which could be read as just her being shocked because she’s never seen airbender tattoos before, but considering the fact her crush on him develops quickly by the beginning of book 2 and she marries him, i wouldn’t be surprised if she also liked the way they looked). all claims that fall back on katara forcing herself to be with aang for whatever reason are projection because 1) katara would never do that. she is not the kind of girl to force herself into any position that doesn’t make her happy, and we see her actively set boundaries with aang in canon, so she is obviously comfortable making her wants known, and 2) katara clearly doesn’t see things through the same lens as her so-called fans. just because you had a crush on zuko doesn’t mean that katara should too, and just because aang isn’t your type doesn’t mean he can’t be her type. yall are projecting onto her

the whole “zutara is for the girls” and “kataang is the male gaze” is so stupid because no, that’s not how that shit works and is a take that is so very american/western that i fail to take it seriously. and yes, i know atla is a western-created show with a western-intended audience, but the characters in the show aren’t and i feel it’s important to acknowledge that

now, i’m a girl (or a woman i should say, 19 years old lmao). and i live in a very patriarchal society and have dealt with sexist standards being forced onto me from my latino culture and family my whole life. it didn’t, however, take long for me to realize that i was unhappy with that way of life and have actively detached myself from it, instead gravitating towards fighting for and recognizing my freedom to choose. this is a freedom i believe all women should have, and i have dedicated myself to learning of the injustices women go through all over the world and do my best to fight against them from where i live. i detest the patriarchy and all things created that demean women or force them into any one role. i am also a lesbian who hardly ever thinks of men lmao. yet miraculously, i am a kataang shipper. according to these zutara stans, im a misogynist who prioritizes male pleasure and happiness. yet from what i know of myself, that’s not at all true. i couldn’t give less of a fuck about patriarchal standards and actively avoid them in the media i consume as much as i can. but i think kataang is cute and i turn away from the thought of zutara, so either one of two things are true:

kataang is for the girls and zutara is the male-gaze

or fictional character shipping has fuck all to do with activism and the kind of person you are in real life

i’m gonna go out on a limb and say number 2 is correct. whether you’re a zutara shipper or a kataang shipper, i don’t think that’s an instant tell of the kind of person you are in your real life. it’s not an actual tell of what you value and yall look ridiculous trying to paint one ship as better than the other on an innate moral level

at the end of the day, this is fandom shipping. you can be a horrible person who engages in shipping content and still be a horrible person at the end of the day regardless of which ship suits your fancy. cause it doesn’t fucking matter. neither of the ships are morally superior to the other in any way that has importance in the real world. yall need to get offline i swear

now personally, i think kataang is an infinitely better ship than zutara for many reasons that i have discussed before, so yall will never catch me saying kataang and zutara are equal in any other context but this one lmao

also saying any colonizer x colonized ship is superior will never be taken seriously by me. you can enjoy those kind of ships all you want, but they’ll never be my cup of tea and that doesn’t make me or anyone else anti-feminist or whatever the fuck insult zks throw out. i just prefer my ships to be between people who haven’t wiped out the other person’s race

#atla #avatar the last airbender #aang #avatar aang #katara atla #kataang #anti zutara stans #anti zutara fandom #anti zutara

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hell-heron · 1 month ago

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Show VS books - Theon's choice

So, I was hoping to post this for show VS books day and also to have time to rewatch the show to factcheck my impressions, which was not possible as my streaming service failed me, so I welcome any corrections about what I am writing. (Please no insults or like. Objections to the general concept of comparing an adaptation to its source material or of sharing critical thoughts about things you don't like. I think these are fine and fun things to do, if you disagree, just do not read this lenghty tome).

Still, I wanted to talk about the way Theon's choice between fighting with his family and remaining loyal to Robb is framed in the show, even before taking a very obvious Stark-goggles view the way it did in the following seasons. In my opinion, the show handled the ACOk storyline very movingly with great acting and some great writing, but still fell into the trap of conveying a certain amount of "shouldn't it be a no brainer to pick friend who values you over bio family that hates you?" in ways that in many cases weren't the writing's fault as it was impossible for a TV show to convey the same nuances as the book, but in some other cases might have been avoided. Here's how imho:

Theon swearing fealty to Robb explicitely, everyone's favorite bugbear. Not one I am particularly attached to, because really I think Theon's situation of being sent, while technically a hostage, to negotiate an alliance with his father and being refused remains legally ambiguous and kind of unprecedented whether or not he swears specific words of fealty. If he didn't swear it in the books, did he not effectively do it by arranging an alliance with Robb anyway, even though he couldn't know whether that alliance would really work out, meaning it was always a conditional loyalty? If he did, is it really binding/something he had a choice about? Still, it gives a very different impression to the casual viewer.

General less established worldbuilding on the taboo of kinslaying and taking arms against family which is just inherent to the medium of short-season TV show VS enciclopaedic saga and couldn't really be helped

Not seeing Theon's inner thoughts on the matter of family, another thing which can't be helped, which show his attitude as more nuanced as he's very aware and critical of the toxicity of his father and brothers but still has an expectation of being welcomed. Thus the hint that he remembers being loved and valued as a child even in a broken dysfunctional way and so reasonably expects to be again on his return

Ditto re: Theon's thoughts on the political situation of the islands which he does have an understanding of and feels a sense of duty to improve, mixed with the desire for glory and being a hero to his people

Starting with some things that can be helped: absolutely 0 sense of the Islands as being in a crisis, destroyed, in poverty, or being damaged by Robert and Ned's host or having somewhat substantiated desires of revenge, besides the deaths of Rodrik and Maron.

Actually expanding on this point bc the show chose to not get to any extent into what the relationship between Theon and his brothers was like. In the books, Theon remembers being abused by them and only expresses a desire of revenge when it helps justify himself to his family, developing a frequent theme in the books that vengeance is often very much not a simple and natural feeling but selfish and weaponized. The show understandably doesn't get into this sort of thematic/psychological analysis, so why not use the deaths of Theon's brothers as something that has a bit more weight in his choice? It was not difficult or time consuming to add some comment about their childhood or about mourning them etc, not as difficult as doing some of the other stuff I mention on this list lmao. It would have built more sympathy for him.

Theon is apparently getting no official welcome besides his sister's initiative to seduce him (Its possible Balon sent Yara and Yara independently decided to seduce him, but it meshes kind of weirdly with the way she lets Theon in on his own and then makes her cinematic entrance in the middle of the conversation) in the book, while Theon is unhappy with Aeron due to his desire to have his parents welcome him instead and Aeron's change and attitude to him, he's objectively a perfectly good person to send to fetch the heir, as a close family member and a priest with great authority and respect.

Theon has no one who loves him on the islands, no mother, no Dagmer, no childhood friends he finds he can't quite connect with again, no Wex, no men who choose to remain loyal to him at Winterfell. Wex is particularly interesting because, while some interpret the offering of a disabled bastard squire as a sign of the ironborn noble families's disdain for Theon, I think it's actually a fairly normal feudalistic exchange of favors. After all Theon is asked to take Wex on as a squire as payment for his horse, so certainly with the understanding he's doing the Botleys a solid by giving an opportunity to a boy who would otherwise not be allowed many, and Lord Botley later champions Theon's claim against Euron. So this little detail could have been a helpful shorthand for Theon succeeding in developing some kind of relationships and loyalty on the islands which he could think he might have developed if he had time and proved himself

Theon in the show is given a ship for his diversion raids while Yara gets 30 ships that appear to be the entire deployed force (??), which is a lot more extreme than "Victarion gets the whole fleet, Asha gets 30 ships, Theon gets 8". The book arrangement feels like an insult to Theon but is reasonable for someone who was never a captain before and who's unknown to his father. The show arrangement is a lot more of an open insult that doesn't really allow us to understand Theon's hope to improve his standing.

Probably couldn't have been helped, given the tight timeline of the show, but: book Theon gets a shining military success, though one of modest proportions in his victory against Benfred Tallart's sortie, before he undertakes the mission to Winterfell, which makes the plan seem somewhat less dumb. Also taking Winterfell being his own idea rather than it being pushed by show!Dagmer shouldn't have huge weight in this but it does make his choice seem more motivated (by his own rage and revenge, for his own political aims) and less pathetic

Moving the pivotal execution of ser Rodrik so early after Theon's taking of Winterfell undercuts the slow descent into despair and violence that Theon experiences in the books. We're supposed to think Theon made an irremediably wrong choice when he burned the letter to Robb, rather than having several chances to stop himself on the path to becoming a child murderer which he for various reasons doesn't take.

While Alfie and for once imho the writing as well do a great job of conveying Theon's pain and trauma for what he went through at Winterfell, it was evidently chosen not to focus or even explicitely mention outside the worldbuilding videos (iirc) how Ned would have been expected to execute him and his fear of that. Skipping the Beth parley is obviously a factor in this (which I will never understand, btw, it seems so perfectly made for TV...) , but even the very beautiful emotional moments that were scripted to replace it just focus on other things. The dialogue with Master Luwin for example has Theon associate fear with the walls of Winterfell, in a line so good I frequently forget it wasn't in the books, but still there's a writing choice to center a fear that comes from a sense of intimidation and inferiority towards the people who defeated his family rather than the material reality of being constantly up for execution. That completely recontextualises the situation and his relationship to house Stark

The matter of Theon's men loyalty to him deserves some expansion in general because like... GRRM, for all that we tease him for the "what was Aragorn's tax policy" line, does invest much time and attention in portraying in detail the choices of all his leader characters, their popularity and relationships with their followers. So even Theon whose leadership skills are not very important gets the sketch of a nuanced political situation. We know that Theon leads his men into several missions before Winterfell, that he's able to convince Dagmer to support his plan to take Winterfell and that his men follow him in this high-risk mission, that he punishes them for fighting over plunder and for committing rape, that he has some of them killed and that he executes Northmen to give them a semblance of justice and is haunted by both, that he doesn't feel like they would keep the secret of the murdered boys' identity, that they grow restless and ambivalent during their time in Winterfell but still do their duty, that one of them specifically takes issue morally with him using Beth against her father and wishes they could just have an open battle, that he offers them the chance to surrender rather than die with him and they are reluctant to refuse it but most do it. There was never going to be anything like that in the brief plotline of a minor character, obviously, but needing to simplify, was really "they knock him out and hand him over to the enemy" the best simplification? It was for the theme they wanted to convey, which is that there was a right and a wrong choice obvious from the start and that poor Theon, understandably and tragically, chose wrong.

#twoweeksoftheon #asoiaf #op #theon greyjoy

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cerridwen007 · 1 year ago

Text

I Want You.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 1.8k (18+)

Summary: After spending all of your situationship trying to convince you that you’re the only one he wants, Joel decides to take a different approach to get you to understand.

Inspired by the song “I Want You” by Reignwolf.

Notes/Warnings: SMUT with a touch of Angst, porn with feelings, insecure reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, rough sex/foreplay, primal play, creampie, dom Joel, sub reader, biting, choking, swearing, no y/n, fluffy ending.

A/N: Kinda self indulgent but I mean who wouldnt want Joel to fuck the insecurity out of them? Once again I am apologizing for being inactive in writing and posting my fics. I've been a bit burned out with writing and been busy with work and life. So this time I know to not make promises about weekly posts. Instead I'm going to give myself grace and instead try and do at least one fic a month. So some months I might write 3-4 fics and others only one, it honestly will depend on how I'm feeling. But what I will try to do within this next month is finish updating my masterlist with some new, sexy banners and maybe also make a fic rec masterlist for all my favorite works. I will say I have been working on a few wips and am about half way through Corruption of Innocence part 3 and have also come up with another series this time for Joel, so stay tuned for that some time in the future. Thank you as always for any interactions with my posts, it means the world to me.

******

You couldn't actually justify why you did it. You shouldn't have pushed him away. But some part of you couldn't believe that he could love you and only you and that he wouldn't get bored of you and seek pleasure in someone else's bed. In all honesty, you were silly to think that, even being the soft-spoken man Joel was, he still always tried his best in reassuring you that he wanted you. And never did he ever give you any reasons to doubt his loyalty to you. But yet you decided to end your situationship with Joel in fear of getting hurt.

Joel, on the other hand, was first distressed and then annoyed that you pushed him away. He had been spending more of his nights at the Tipsy Bison, drinking away his troubles, trying to forget his feelings for you. He just couldn't seem to understand why you called it quits. You had spent so long dancing around your feelings for each other, and then when you finally did get together, everything was great, the best he had ever felt in a long time. Then it all came crashing down one night when you said that you wanted to stop seeing each other.

You took some convincing to admit the reasoning why. And when you did, he was shocked. Maybe he hadn't been expressing enough of his affection towards you. Maybe he should have told you he loved you already. You were quick to reassure him that it was yourself and not him. To which he scoffed and rolled his eyes at. But you pleaded with him that it was completely you, that you couldn't handle losing him. At first, as much as it hurt him to do so, he respected your wishes, and then one night about a month after your split, something inside of him snapped. He wasn't going to let the best thing in his life go that easily.

You were spending your night at home by yourself like usual, trying to forget Joel in your own way, distracting yourself with a book and a cup of tea. Your heart skipped a beat when it heard fairly loud knocking at your door. The knocking stopped for a second, and you thought about just ignoring it until it started again.

“Alright, I'm coming, jeez. You scoff annoyed, walking to the door before opening it.

Your voice and breath immediately hitch in your throat. Eyes widening as they take in the intimidating, tall figure before you, leaning against your doorframe. You scan over his body, the way his shirt and pants stretch over his wide thighs and shoulders, his eyes brown and soft but filled with something deeper and darker tonight. God, has he gotten even hotter since you last saw him? Your thoughts are interrupted when he coughs to get your attention and speaks.

“Came to talk to ya, sweetheart.” He says darkly.

You move aside and invite him in.

“Oh..yeah come in.” You whisper back.

You can smell the whiskey he likes on his breath as he walks by and the smell that is undoubtedly him, something you missed all so dearly. You take a deep breath, working up the courage to speak before you talk.

“Why are you here, Joel?”

“I think you know why I'm here.”

You cross your arms and raise your eyebrow.

He speaks through gritted teeth, like an animal baring its fangs, holding back, ready to devour its prey.

“Don’t act like you don’t know…cause I told you…I told you, I want you.”

“Joel I know, but I…” You whisper.

The words seem to slip away. Your brain can't seem to find proper reasoning as to why you still push him away, yet you still do, as if your body is working on autopilot.

“You know I want you, you're in my head.” His tone softens for a moment as he looks deep into your eyes. Wishing that you would just believe him and give your relationship a chance.

You go to interrupt, but he shuts you up by roughly grabbing your cheeks and jaw in one hand, the slight pain and abrupt motion to make you stop talking and listen. You can't help but let your desire continue to grow. Your middle is dripping from his dominance and assertiveness. You're almost whimpering at his touch.

“Joel.” You manage to mumble out, the last of your denying uttered in that one word.

He tightens his grip ever so slightly and lowers his head closer to yours, his lip curled.

“Well I'm telling you. I want you…..I get the feeling that you just don't understand, I'm crying, wolf, and I'll always be your man.” he growls.

The tension is thick in the air. Joel never failed to make you wet at the sight of him, but this was something else, a primal need to feast on each other's mouths and flesh like you won’t have the chance to again.

The point of tension breaks and your mouths attach to each other like magnets drawn together. The kisses are filled with desire, lust, and want, but also with ‘I missed you’s’, don’t let me go again’s, and love. Teeth are clashing, lips smashing, hands flying about, trying to grab onto each other and hold them close in any way they can.

Joel pushes you against the wall harshly, pulling you up so your legs wrap around his waist. You moan into his mouth, feeling his craving for your body, nestled against your clothed middle. His desire to be gentle and take his time is long gone out the window as he feverishly explores your body, ripping away any clothing that stands in his way of touching and tasting your bare skin. He marks all along your body, your neck, jaw, and collarbones, anywhere he can reach, claiming you for his own.

His hands reach up behind your back and pull your hair firmly, giving him move access to attack your flesh with bite and hickey’s. You find yourself a grinning and whimpering mess under him. He growls into your breasts after ripping away your shirt and bra like a wild wolf, warning others not to touch his meal. He finally pulls you both off the wall and quickly walks to your bed and throws you down. Not wanting to waste a moment, he pulls your pants and panties off swiftly. He groans as he gets on his knees and takes in the scent of your arousal.

“God I missed you and this sweet pussy, sweetheart.”

Before you can respond his hands wrapped around your thighs are pulling you to his mouth, he makes quick work of you, his tongue licking every inch of you, switching between, fucking into you pulsating hole and teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. It feels so good, yet you can’t help but squirm around only to be pinned down by Joel's forearm, keeping his meal still for him.

Your hand reaches down into his graying locks as Joel undoes you with his skilled tongue. Your first orgasm comes quickly. He groans deeply at the sweet taste gracing his taste buds, but he doesn’t stop or slow down. Instead he speeds up his actions and begins thrusting two fingers into your drenched cunt and curling them to reach that spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll back. The pathetically beautiful sounds coming from your mouth do nothing but egg him to continue, urging you to your second orgasm of the night in mere minutes. Two fingers become three that mercilessly fuck into your tight hole.

“Cum for me.” Joel quietly groans in your cunt.

Taking his words as a stern order, you let go, drenching his face with your second release of the night. He is grinning ear to ear as he drinks up every bit of your sweetness, your hands grip the sheets tightly, cunt verging on overstimulation. He finally lets up when he feels satisfied and crawls back up to give yourself a taste of your own pleasure from his tongue. He groans deeply as you begin pulling him down on top of you and arching your back up into him, insinuating you want more, need to feel him inside you. He chuckles darkly and reaches down between you to tease your folds with the tip of his cock.

He keeps teasing despite your whines for him to put it in already.

“Please….Please Joel.” You whine quietly.

He grins devilishly. “Begging me to fuck you sweetheart, Need it that bad, don’t you honey?”

You nod your head in response, but Joel doesn't like that answer. He grips your throat lightly and speaks through gritted teeth.

“Use your words baby.” he growls.

“Y-Yes, need it so bad Joel.”

“Atta girl.”

He quickly thrusts his whole length into your quivering hole, making you gasp out. He lets you adjust to his size for a few seconds before slowly yet brutally dragging his length almost all the way out before slamming it back into your tight cunt again.

You unconsciously bring your fist up to your mouth and bite into, so overwhelmed with the deliciously brutal pleasure you were feeling.Before you could have even comprehended, he flips you over and brings your ass up to his cock, slamming into your hip mercilessly. Your eyes rolled back into your head, he holds the back of your neck down as he pounded into you. Your hands find purchase in the sheets, gripping them tightly. He lowers himself so his front is flush with your back, and the new angle hits even deeper inside you, urging you to the precipice of climax.

“All mine, This pretty cunt is all mine.” Joel snarled into your ear, biting your ear lobe.

“F-f-fuck yes, only yours, Joel.”

“That’s my girl.” He praises you, before reaching around to rub your clit, sending you over the edge.

“Shit! Joel!” You whine as your high comes crashing down.

His thrusts never stuttered as he worked you through your high and chased his own. Joel roughly grabbed your hips as he creamed inside of you, a final step in marking his territory.

You both collapsed on the bed, Joel’s full weight comforting as you caught your breaths. A comfortable silence blanketed the room, which only moments ago was filled with obscene noises.

“I love you.” he whispered.

Your eyes opened wide in surprise at his remark, the first ever time he has ever said those three words to you. You turn your head to try and look at him better. You see his eyes have returned a closer shade to their normal deep brown, his pupils blown wide. You can’t help but smile at his softness, a stark contrast to him behavior only moments ago. Nevertheless, you loved every bit of Joel you could get.

“I love you too.” You whisper before placing a gentle, lingering kiss on his lips.

You couldn't be certain of what was the future for you and Joel, but you knew right now there is no place you rather be than snuggling with your person.

********

#pedro pascal characters #smut #joel miller #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut

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eveningepiphany · 2 years ago

Text

insatiable | H.S series, part I

eveningepiphany’s 1k special <3

summary: harry is a prince, natalia is a spy for his court. both of them can’t stand one another, but natalia having to take any direct information she learns about the attempt on his life directly to him seems to put the pair in an interesting dynamic.

SERIES warnings: darker topics, murder, death, cults, alcohol, smut, violence, royal au! harry, fem!oc, fantasy and swearing.

a/n: this is something I’ve wanted to write for a long time now. I love reading fantasy, and I think it would be fun to kind of test the waters in writing a proper series myself.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

A part of me wishes it was nothing like this.

That I didn’t live in a world where everyone was out to deceive you.

But that’s exactly what you get in Carthion. I’d say it’s all you ever get, but maybe that’s just my outlook on it.

Especially when you consider I’m no better than the rest of them.

You see, when you grow up with parents who did the worst things just to get by, you’re conditioned to it. The expectation that everyone is out to get you.

And of course, the things they did weren’t just steal some bread and fruit from the night market to get a feed, or maybe pickpocket a passerby or two bad. The kind of stuff that would have you killed if it was unearthed.

But how I grew up is realistically how I got here.

I’ve been a spy— which is really just a justified way of saying I’m a deceitful murderer— “professionally” for only three years now.

But I’d been really doing it since I was 13. Sounds young, I know. It was young.

The thing was, I was small, smaller than my dad. I could squeeze into little places, move faster, quieter.

And who would suspect a 13 year old to be the one who’d shot a gang leader in an alleyway.

Not a soul apparently.

My father accompanied me on these little “missions” for the first, maybe, forty times? Until little by little he stopped.

He’d just tell me quietly what I needed to do in the dark of our small kitchen. And I’d be off.

Previously, my mother did a similar business. But she broke her leg on an outing when I was around 9. It left her much less physically able then she used to be, leaving her to stay home with me and my elder brother, Theodore. Making small knit items and pottery to sell at the markets— while dad was out.

I’d often catch myself falling into a daydream of where I’d be if I didn’t have the upbringing that I did. If I’d be a married woman yet, or maybe a guard for one of the royal courts if I had the same amount of drive.

But all of that is rather a waste of time, i reason with myself often. I’m busy enough as it is. And it’s about to get a whole lot more hectic.

I’m not conditioned to walk in heeled shoes. Nor am I proper enough to be in the dress that’s currently hugging my frame.

But when business with Royals arises, it’s what I can only assume is a must.

The guard, who bought me in is a few steps infront of me— awful move if I was an intruder— seems to know exactly where he’s taking me.

The corridors are lined with the families crest, large cream pillars with golden accents.

A single brick from this place is probably worth more than my life.

We’d been twisting and turning through the corridors until suddenly I’m greeted with large double doors, ones that would tower above any regularly sized one..

Another 2 burly men are positioned outside of them, gesturing a quick nod to whoever led me here.

A curt knock and a few beats of silence pass. I feel a little sick, I can’t lie.

A posh feminine voice sounds on the other side of the doors, undoubtedly Queen Annabelle herself.

“Come in!”

The doors get swung open, and I’m surprised to see that at first glance, this room is only a business or lounge room. It’s large enough to be a dining hall.

My gaze snaps back over to her as she begins to greet me, something I probably should’ve done first instead of marvelling at the room were standing in.

“Natalia, dear, hello.” My eyes switch between her and her unexpected guest, who— if this room weren’t so large— is tall enough he would’ve been the first thing I seen upon entering.

I’m positive it’s her son. The Prince.

Im unsure what exactly to say even though I practiced this in my head a million times.

I drop into a quick curtesy, “Hello, Your highness.”

I falter momentarily, hesitating to greet the Prince as well.

A extend my greeting to him, after a quiet intake of breath, “and to you too, Prince Harry.”

He has a scowl on his face, hardly giving me a me nod of his head.

I’ve only ever worked with people of a medium prestige. And only ever to silently cover up their dirty work. But I’m hardly surprised to see his distaste towards me.

If I am a minor disgust to the higher class, to the royals like Prince Harry, I must be the equivalent of skum on freshly polished shoes.

“Please, come sit with us. We have much to discuss.” She strides across the room, flowing ivory dress complimenting the green rug that takes up a large chunk of the floor.

She takes to a chair at the head of the table, it’s like a mock-throne, green fabric and deep wooden accents around its frame and arms.

The Prince reluctantly seats in the chair first to her right.

Despite the fact I’ve been allowed in this room, I feel terribly out of place.

I carefully take the chair thats two down from the queen, folding my hands neatly atop the rich wooden table which has a map in the centre of it.

I almost let out a sigh of gratefulness as Queen Annabelle begins talking, and isn’t expecting me to begin.

“Alright. You know the parameters in which you are here in, yes?” She raises her sharp brows.

“I do, for the most part. From the letters I’d received. I’m aware of what business you want me for.”

The Prince scoffs at the word business, and the Queen shoots him a glare.

“There are obviously some details left out. We need to smooth those out, before you can make your pledges.”

I nod, but sense that she’s not done talking.

“You acknowledge that this is going ahead yes? All that is left to do is get it in motion.”

“I do. I have a few questions regarding this job, but they can be covered at a later time if you’d like.” I try to keep my tone steady, formal.

I’m satisfied in her reaction to my words. She wasn’t expecting me to be so put together.

I had worked hard when I was younger to achieve this. My intellect is a strong point— and it makes me appear less rough around the edges.

It’s also that of a weapon, one you can carry everywhere with you, undetected. And it��s just as dangerous as the blade of a dagger.

“Of course. As of now, I’d like to discuss the raw details.”

She gestures towards her son, “My son, here, is a key part of this job. I believe in your letters you were ran down on an attempted assassination within our family. Since it’s now certain you’ll be taking the job, and you’ll be working closely with the both of us, I figure you should know he was the target.”

He’s frowning still as a lock eyes with him. And I connected those dots the second I realised he was in the room.

I have never met him. But from the great vine I’d heard mixed opinions on his person.

“Aside from myself and our head of counsel, he will be whom you take any learned information to.”

She lets out a sigh, “I would like him to be excluded from this process, however, it was made clear it wouldn’t go ahead without his involvement.”

I ponder a moment on how he is allowed a choice in the matter, seeing she’s the Queen and all.

She looks to me for agreement, “Understood.”

“Perfect. Im aware we have little information on who has committed this crime. That is why you’re here. I fear that they will come back and finish what they started.” I steal a glance at the prince again, who looks relatively unbothered considering we’re discussing the details of his near death experience, “I expect you to prevent this from happening.”

High expectations come with exhausting hours of work. But I nod anyways.

“My head of counsel, Tyrone will also need to receive a pledge from you and then he will run you down on the smaller details I have no business in. But other than that, your work will begin after our pledges.”

A lot of damn pledges, too.

This was the worst part of working with people of such a title, the expectance of you to lay yourself down for them, to swear your life and loyalty to them. A pledge knows no time, and can only be withdrawn by the one it’s given too. So the more pledges, the more you’re shackled to. To outright break a pledge would send you straight to exile— so it’s rare to hear of it. It’s like a fucking cult out there, in the barren of the north where the exiles call home.

She prattles on over some more details, that I take as much mental note on as possible, before standing from her chair, “Harry, will you please leave the room while she makes her pledge to me.”

I thank the stars for the this shred of dignity shes allowing me, but i catch the shock on Prince Harry’s face at his removal.

“But—“ he begins and she silences him, “Out.”

He sighs outwardly, sending another glower my way as he walks out the door.

I awkwardly rise from my chair, nerves bubbling through me, trying to prepare myself on what to say.

Theres no script, its all dependent on the situation, so you must say the right things and leave no room for misconception in your words. Mistake and gaps can easily be used against you.

It’s dodgy absolutely, but a risk that must be taken for this business.

“Natalia, is this your first time making a pledge?” She asks from where she stands a few feet away from me.

“No.” It was my third, but she doesn’t need to know that.

It’s not many, especially since in what I do, some people rack them up like it’s a competition.

“Have you been let go of all your previous pledges?”

“Yes.” I nod, which was almost true, all but one.

A risky game I’m playing, lying already, but no risk no reward I suppose is what they say.

Answering no raises to many questions on her end that I hardly feel mentally prepared to answer.

I take initiative to kneel at her feet, ready for her go ahead.

“Very well.”

“Queen Annabelle the fifth, I kneel below you as I vow to uphold my loyalty to you, for as long as it may be needed. I am aware that your life must come before mine at all times, and that I’m never to withhold information that could be of detriment to you or your family.”

I draw in a breath, “All information that I learn in my time working under you will be taken to those of your request, and nothing will be kept to myself that could endanger anybody in your circle. Outside of those im working with, all that I find out is kept to myself. Gossip is for the lowly courts, and I do not wish to start it.”

I pray that ive covered the basis, and begin to close off the pledge, “My name is Natalia Atalanta Finley, and I pledge myself to you, Queen Annabelle the fifth.”

A shudder passes through me as my middle name breaches the tip of my tongue.

This is how the pledges are set in stone. Your second name is to be kept close to your heart; it can be easily used against you. Hence why business using them is unfavourable.

I had held her eye contact, and watched as she nodded. Her face was netrual, not showing whether she was pleased or not.

“Thank you. I will send Harry in for you now.” She sounded calm. Of course she was. Considering she wasn’t the one now down a point.

I only can nod.

Carefully standing, despite the fact I’m going to be kneeling again in a few moments, I brush my hands down the waist of my satin dress.

She heads out the doors, I strain to hear a few muffled whispers that are presumably exchanged between her and her son. Then the door is opening again.

I fight the urge to look away. I am not about to appear shy, or like I am now certainly below them. He strides in, and I finally get a good look at him in the full.

He’s in a black kind of overcoat, and a smooth white blouse-like shirt. The tattoos on his collarbones, which im not sure what they are yet, visible through the material.

I make note of his black trousers and my eyes make their way back to the hair on his head. Its mid length, unruly and curly is the best way to describe it.

He looks smug, yet somehow still inconvenienced by my presence, “kneel, wont you?”

These are the first words he’s said to me directly, and I already want to jam my elbow into his stomach. Terrific.

I take a few steps towards him, and slowly sink back down onto my knees, feet tucked under myself as I hold eye contact with him.

“Your highness,” I begin, but theres an unmistakable edge to my voice.

“Sound like you mean it at least.” He hums.

With a passive aggressive clear of my throat I start again, “Your highness,”

“This y’first time making a pledge?” He quirks a brow almost assuming.

“No.” You frown.

“No need to get your back up.” He laughs briefly, but it’s laced with an audacious tone, one lacking in kindness.

“Continue on, then.”

His gaze is back to burning into me as I pretty much recite what I said to his mother only minutes ago, sticking to the same promises as to not get any misconstrusions on their behalf.

The golden hour light is seeping through the cream coloured curtains that line the windows, it’s casting a glow on his sculpted face. I begin to close off my pledge to him, but he interrupts.

“Remind me again who is in charge of you?” He knows there’s hardly any need for this, considering im on my knees basically promising him my obedience, but he’s doing it to just get a rise out of me.

Which all though he doesn’t get it verbally, he can see the disdain on my face.

“You, Prince Harry.” I say, carefully.

“And you will not do anything without my go ahead first, correct?”

“Within reason, yes.” My job is too impulsive to say yes to that and it not backfire on me.

“Within reason? Elaborate, will you.”

“I must make impulsive decisions. I cannot promise you will always be debriefed on them when its an in-the-moment choice, or if you are possibly a few hundred miles away.”

His gaze narrows, “Within reason it shall be then.”

I close it off, earning a small raise of his eyebrows as he hears my full name.

“Good girl. You may rise.” He says it with a smirk, and with an air of power of me, which of course he now feels he has after my pledge.

“Do not call me that.” I state, pulling at any shred of dignity I have left as I stand up.

“What else would you prefer then?” It’s asked, however it’s clear to me he doesn’t care.

“My name.” I scoff.

“Alright then, Natalia.” He rolls his eyes.

He stares at me a moment, looking ready to leave,“I will see you, unfortunately, tomorrow then.”

I shoot him an unkind look, but keep my lips sealed.

“Anything else to say, sugar?” He teases, a cruel smirk on his face.

“Natalia.” I correct, “No, there is not.”

I decide to be the one to exit the room, uncaring if that is rude. I’ve already sworn him my life, and despite him acting like I’m of no use to him, I know I am— more then he’s leading on anyway.

I open the doors myself, and the guards are quick to check on the prince.

“Are you ok, Sir?” One of them tentatively asked, like as if I’ve hurt him.

“Just fine.” He brushes them off, eyes trailing me as I walk down the hallway despite no sense of where I’m going.

One of the guards hurries behind me,

“Ma’am, where are you going?”

He reaches my side and I glance to him, “Take me to the head of counsel, please.”

I figure I get the last pledge out of the way, and any other debriefing so I can just get out of here for tonight. Worry about it all later, in the earlier hours of tomorrow morning when I have to wake up.

The guard nods, and takes the lead while I try to memorise the twists and turns were making around the palace.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Tyrone is a fucking asshole.

If I had thought Prince Harry was rude or demeaning, I was in for a shock.

He hardly greeted me as I’d came into what I can only assume is his office. It was dark and unwelcoming, the wood was stained to the colour of black coffee, and nothing about it was homely.

He’d had me making this pledge for what felt like an hour. Running over detail upon detail.

Harshly demanding for more information, more promising.

By the time I’d closed it off— which at the rate we were going I thought was never going to happen— he made me stay for another hour going over what he wanted me to do, so I could start first thing tomorrow morning.

He basically gave me the caseload and then kicked me out.

I was mentally muddled as I left his office, and the halls were now completely dark aside from the warm casting of light from the candles, which sat in candelabras coming out of the walls.

I just wanted to go back to Mabel’s. Get this dress off and back into the confines of her cupboard and sleep.

However was almost caught off guard as someone was at the end of the hallway.

“Natalia.” I heard the deep voice regard me, walking up closer to me.

It surprised me in all honestly, I hadn’t seen them when I first walked out, “Yes?”

“I’m here to take you to your room.”

I was immediately confused.

“My room?”

“Yes. There’s a room made up for you in the western-wing of the palace.”

“I didn’t request a room.” I frown, and no one had told me I’d be staying here.

“All I know is Her Majesty had a room made up for you to stay in while you’re here. Allow me to lead you there.”

I nodded cautiously, but I knew what this was, it was to keep me under watch and control. It seems like a lovely customary gift in exchange for my work, but realistically it’s to stop me from interacting with anyone outside of the palace when I don’t need to.

I contemplate refusing to go, but figured that would just add unnecessary suspicion on my behalf.

I reluctantly followed the bulky man halfway across the palace, and everything started looking the same in the dark until we stopped outside a room. And i nodded a ‘thank you’ as I went through the again, abnormally tall doors.

The room itself was bigger than any whole house I’d ever lived in.

There was a large bed placed in the centre of it, perfectly made of course. And I noticed a closet on my left that took up majority of where the wall would’ve been.

There were a multitude of things hanging in there, ranging from gowns to things only someone like me would wear around here, like cargo pants and plain long sleeves.

The bedside antique lamps were on, casting an also warm glow to the space. The light to the bathroom was also turned on. And when I walked in there, the bath was run, with a set of silk pajamas folded on the large vanity.

It was too much. Wayyy too much for me.

Bribery at its finest.

Poor girl having to do the worst of the worst kind of business because it’s all she knows, suddenly spoiled with the kind of riches the royals had to offer.

I know just how far these kinds of people will go to earn your trust.

However, i still cave when it comes to the bath. I manage— with a slight struggle— to unzip the back of my dress and get fully undressed and into the bath.

It was perfectly warm, small petals floating atop the water.

I keep in the forefront of my mind just how well materialistic bribery like this work because god, it is nice. That’s the whole point.

I don’t know how long i stay in there, trying to soak off the grievances of the day.

But when I finally get out and slip the silky pyjamas on I’m too warm.

I pad out of the bathroom, and find myself at the balcony door.

The cooler air hits me as i step outside. I examine the surroundings. Part out of habit and other out of curiosity.

The ground is not that far away, a survivable jump at least. And if the railing would hold me up I definitely would be able to scale up onto the roof.

I’m mid-inspection when I hear another door open nearby, and my head whips to find the source of the noise.

I drop into a crouch keeping my eyes searching through the gaps in the wooden railing. My eyes fall on a room just across the small courtyard from me.

I spot the tall figure leaning against their own balcony and I realise with a sink of my heart that it was the Prince.

Why his quarters were so close to mine I could only guess. To keep tabs on me?

I stay deathly still as I watch his figure, it’s facing the direction of me, and from his angle he could probably only see the warm lamps and the light streaming out of the bathroom door.

A shake of his head, a spin of his heel and he’s returned into the confines of his own quarters.

I take a breath and am careful to keep my self low as I slip back into my room. Standing to my full height once inside and away from the window.

It is now that I need to fully accept he is going to be a terror to deal with.

I flick the bathroom and bedside lights off, and slide under the covers of the bed.

Head plagued with thoughts, I can’t help but wonder how the fuck I’ve gotten myself into this.

And how exactly it’s all going to pan out.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you again for reading this. your support means the world to me. stay tuned for future parts, and feel free to reply or send me an ask saying you want to be added to my taglist if you do, since I’ve had a few people ask to be on them!

asks & requests, here.

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scarletwinterxx · 1 year ago

Text

take a chance with me - mark lee imagine

hi🥺😊 it's been a while since i wrote something this long, I wanted to take my time and do my best. I hope you like it.🤍

if you have a request or scenario you want me to do, just send me a message I'll see what I can do😊💌

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

song inspo: take a chance with me by niki

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2023 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

"You got the Bruno Mars tickets?"

Mark looks up to see you looking a bit disheveled, still panting from running he assumes.

She still looks cute. Says his internal monologue but he quickly shuts that down, putting this tough shell back on in front of you instead.

"Yeah why?" he asks nonchalantly

You hold 1 finger up, signalling for him to wait while you catch your breath.

"Who are you going with?"

"Dery, supposedly but he got tickets too so now I'm not sure" he answers, his attention back on his laptop screen. There are so many things he should be doing right now to the point that he feels like the 24 hours of his day isn't enough and yet he can't seem to shoo you away.

He'll spare you a minute, an hour, or how long you ask him but you don't know that. And he won't say that out loud now that the two of you have broken up. His clock stops when he's with you.

Mark wants to scold himself for always giving into you, but he can't help it. It's you.

"Take me" you say straightforward, no sense of hesitation.

This made Mark look up at you again, raising a brow as he asks you "Now why would I do that?"

"Because we're friends?" throwing a question back at him

"God don't say that, it's weird" he mumbles, acting as if he was shaking of chills as you say the word friends

"You're the one who said we should be friends, this is me being a friend"

"This is you trying to piggyback on me to watch Bruno Mars"

"See, you still know me so well. Now why did we even break up?" you joke, but it wasn't well received on the other end so you cleared your throat "Right sorry, sore topic" you mumble

"I'll think about it" Mark tells you before his gaze returns on his screen

You smile down at him even though he's not looking at you. "In your book, that's a yes. Call me, bye" you tell him before walking away.

After that encounter with you, Mark of course couldn't keep his mouth shut and told his friend about it. He can already hear Hendery scolding him for being a 'simp'.

"Tell me you didn't say yes that fast" Hendery asks his bestfriend but he already knows the answer

"Mark, dude I thought we're working on the whole 'I'm moving on for real this time' era of yours"

"I am, I am over it. She's just going with me because I have extra tickets, which by the way was supposed to be yours. I paid a good amount for those" he scowls at the other boy

"And you didn't even think twice about giving it away to her, we could've sold that or something. Just say you're still whipped and go. What's the point of me lecturing you everytime about your failed love live if you're never gonna listen"

"I can't fail my love life if I don't have a love life" the Leo man justifies

"Okay you got a point there, so here's my proposal. We should find you a new girl so you can finally finally stop being such a simp"

Mark swears he trusts Hendery with his life, but also a big part of him doubts his Libra bestfriend even when he's staying still and doing nothing.

"I'm not a simp" Mark grumbles like a child. He can hear Hendery snicker from beside him,

"Sorry what was that? I can't hear bullshit. Get back to me when you finally mean it"

He really hoped Hendery was kidding when he said he'll find him someone, he had so many reason why this isn't a good time to date but he can't stop him once he sets his mind on something. Especially if it meant it'll give Mark a headache, which in that case is Hendery's forte.

But if there's someone topping that list, the number one person to make Mark's temporal pulse go thumping hard. It would be you. And you know exactly know to get on his last nerve whether he likes it or not.

"I can't believe you got floor tickets, and Dery passed this up?" you say from beside him as you look around the venue. It's the day of the concert and just like you said, you showed up in front of his doorstep 10 hours earlier with the most excited look on your face.

"He's somewhere over there, said he prefers it so yea" he answers, looking at his watch to check the time. His nonchalance making you look over at your ex-boyfriend slash friend.

"Why are you grumpy? Does it really bother you I'm here? I can pay for the tickets" you tell him.

Mark looks over at you, noting your serious expression. He didn't want to ruin tonight for you, for the both of you so he shakes his head.

"No, I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I invited you"

"I invited myself, I'll send you the payment after the show" you tell him then look away.

Great, now you're in a bad mood and he has to figure out how to fix it. He lets out a sigh, looking away from you. The ticket is not really the issue tonight, neither you being here tonight. It's his mind being at war again, asking him questions he have long buried in the depths of his consciousness.

It's like you press the reset button in him every time. He hates it but he can't walk away from you either. So as a result, he sometimes acts too harsh towards you.

Mark thinks of something to break the tension,

"Hey, remember when I said I wanted to watch Bruno Mars with you" Mark tells you, slightly leaning towards you to whisper by your ear

You do remember. Back when you were still dating he did say he wanted to go attend concerts with you, when he learned yours and his favorite artist was the same he got so excited and put it on his bucket list to watch Bruno Mars with you.

"Huh?" you mumbled, pretending like you were having a hard time recalling that memory but really it's still fresh like it happened just yesterday

"My bucket list, said I wanted to watch Bruno with you. Guess I can check it off from that now" he smiles

"Does it still count even when we're not dating anymore?" you can't help but ask, you expected him to react violently like he always does when you bring it up but instead he just smiles at you again

"It counts as long as it's with you" he answers then he looks away. Not catching the way your gaze stayed on him for a few more moments, in those moments you wondered what if that wasn't the case.

What if you never broke up. What if he was still yours.

A lot of what ifs you'll never know the answer to.

Instead of linger on that, you just look away from him. Ignoring the dull ache in your heart.

That night turned out for the better, probably a night you'll never forget. You had so much fun, singing and jumping along your favorite songs. There were times when you looked beside you to see Mark doing the same. Seeing the biggest smile on his face as he holds his phone up to capture the moment.

Instead of saying anything, you just watch him with a smile. Missing seeing him this happy and carefree.

After the show, Mark offered to drive you home. You were too tired to say no so you just sat on his passenger seat as he drives down the familiar street. He didn't need to check his GPS to know, he know these roads like it's the way to his own home.

In a way it used to be like that, you used to be his home.

He didn't say much when he dropped you off, watching you enter your building and only driving away when he's sure you safe inside.

"Mark, my friend"

"No" Mark cuts off Hendery before he could even say anything but of course his bestfriend didn't take any offence nor thought about listening to him, he continued when Mark didn't say anything else

"As I was saying, remember when I said I'll find you someone. Well I kinda did, a bunch of us is going hiking this weekend and this girl Arin is coming. Heard she's had a thing for you for a while now"

"How can she have a thing for me when she doesn't know me?" he mumbles, already getting grumpy with the idea of going out

"I can't explain the way of the universe to you my friend, she just does. Don't make me say you're one handsome man because I won't" Hendery says

"You just did though"

"So you're coming right?" Hendery asks with a devilosh smile like he's already plotting something

"Do I have a choice?"

"Hey don't look at me like that, it was your choice coming here" Haechan tells you as you let him drag you trough the woods at 5am in the morning

"You told me we were going to get coffee at this place with killer view. I'm about to be the killer here and you're in my view" you tell him, sending glares his way but this doesn't deter your friend.

"We are getting coffee, after we go hiking. Hey! No hitting!"

As the two of you bicker some more you don't notice the other people joining you for today's hike arrive.

From across the lot, Mark spots you and Haechan. Just as he looks over, he sees Haechan bend down to whisper something to you and you hitting him lightly making the guy laugh.

It’s been a while since he last saw you, after the concert you really didn't reach out that much. Not that he expected you to, the last text you sent him was a short thank you for taking you to the concert.

You weren't avoiding him, it's been a while since you went out with a big group of friends since you and Mark did share a lot of mutual friends. You didn't want to make it awkward for everyone, so instead you mostly declined the invites when you know he might come too.

And Mark, well he’s been keeping his distance from you too. It's always you who talks to him first, always letting you make the first step.

He knew you were close to Haechan. If he’s being honest there were enough times he felt jealous even. He pushes that thought away as fast as it came. He didn't know you were coming this weekend, a detail Hendery failed to mention.

"Hey don't freak out, but your ex is here" Haechan tells you

Whipping your head around then back at him, waiting for him to say it was a joke

"No he isn't"

"Yep, he's over there. Wait don't look"

Too late you're already looking. And there he was indeed. Luckily Mark was too busy unloading stuff from the car to notice you looking over at him

“If only your gaze could make him notice you, he’d probably be here already having an actual conversation with you” Haechan whispers to you

“You know not every thought that pops into your head should be said outloud, you can just shut it” you answer, taking your gaze off from the guy from across the lot.

“It wouldn’t be too bad to admit you miss him, when it’s this obvious”

“Again, thoughts to your self. I don’t need you whispering in my ear like a little devil” this time it earned him a hit on the shoulder. From across the lot, Mark’s eyes glaze towards the direction where you were standing with your friend.

“He’s looking over here, by the way” Haechan tells you when his eyes met with Mark’s, the other guy quickly averting his gaze somewhere else.

“Shut up”

"He was, and I'm pretty sure he had the look of murder on his face when he saw me leaning a little to close to you"

"I have the look of murder whenever I look at you, now can I get a drink in peace without you breathing down my neck" you grumbled, rethinking all the choices you made which led you here. You should've been anywhere but here.

Anywhere except where Mark is. You thought.

"He's coming, act cool. Hey guys!"

You glare at Haechan one last time before looking to see Hendery, Mark, Yoo Jimin, Arin and Yeonjun.

"You guys got here early?" Hendery asks

"No, we just got here too. Ready to go?"

Everyone said yes then you were off.

You try to focus on not tripping and not think about Mark, which you kind of succeeded. The group made small talk among each other, of course with Haechan and Hendery there aren't any dead air.

When you got to the trickier part of the hike, the trail was steep and kinda hard to climb up. Some of the boys offered to go up first to assist while the others stay behind to make sure no one get's left behind.

Hendery and Haechan took the lead while Mark and Yeonjun stayed behind. You were standing behind Jimin and infront of Yeonjun, taking careful steps.

"Haechan Lee, when we get to the top I'm going to push you off" you tell your friend who was laughing from somewhere infront

"I thought this was easy, not gonna lie I'm gonna pass out soon" Jimin says

"Same" you mumble, resting your hand on your knee to catch your breath

"Hey you okay? Need help with your bag?" Yeonjun asks you, Mark who is standing at the very back listens to the conversation.

"No, it's okay" you politely decline

"You sure?" nodding at him, "Jimin, do you need help with yours?" Yeonjun asks the girl to which she answers with a loud yes and quickly passing her bag to him.

You let Yeonjun walk infront of you, leaving you and Mark at the very back of the line. Mark takes a water bottle from his bag, opens it before passing it over to you. You didn't even think twice about grabbing it, not really paying attention to who's beside you. Kind of forgetting if for a moment before you stood straight again to meet Mark's eyes looking at you.

"Uh thanks" you say holding up the bottle of water

"No problem, need help with your bag?" he asks, he did hear you already say no to Yeonjun but he can't help bu ask

"It's fine, you're already carrying yours" you tell him, shooting him a quick smile before resuming your walk. But before you can take another step, you felt him grab your wrist to pull you back.

"Wha-" then he was pulling one strap of your backpack then the other before putting it on him. Now he's carrying his backpack and yours.

"Mark, come on I can carry that" you try to get it back but he blocks your hands with his arm. Gently pushing you infront of him.

"I'll give it back when you don't look like you're about to pass out, now go. We're falling behind" he tells you, and when he gets this serious you have no choice but to follow him.

For the rest of the hike, you and Mark walk in silence. Passing the water bottle back to him every once and a while, not even noticing you're practically sharing it with him. And when there was a branch too big on your way, you felt his hands on your waist. Guiding you from behind.

"Careful" he mumbles

Too stunned to say anything, you make your way over. Haechan was there waiting for you. He helps you up with this sly smirk on his face, you send a glare to him. Already reading his mind and what's he's about to ask you later.

"And we're here! Look at that view" Hendery announces.

For a moment, all seven of you just admire the view.

"Okay, tell me I did good" Haechan bumps your shoulder, you roll your eyes

"Fine, this was worth all of that" you mumble while the guy beside you throw his fist in the air like he just won a very important arguement.

All of you find spots to sit and get comfortable while eating the snacks you brought and drink the coffee brought by Arin apparently.

"I'm working at the cafe near campus so I kinda picked up a few tricks here and there, taste it. Hope it tastes okay" she tells the group.

Passing the thermos around, you take a cup and wait for your turn. Haechan pours some on your cup for you, and even got you your favorite pastry which honestly might be the highlight of your week.

Meanwhile, Mark was not so subtly watching from the side as you smile at the other guy. Even saw you bump your head on Haechan's shoulder affectionately, probably since you can't give him high five with your hands fill. It's something he knows you do when you get all happy and excited. The coffee tasted okay but something else left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"We should go here again, it's nice to just be out of the city" Yeonjun says

"True, I was dying back there but I'd do it again for this" Jimin says with a smile, all of you looking out the view. Watching as the sun slowly ascend up the sky.

The seven of you spent a few more hours there, just talking and sharing stories then it was time to go. The hike back was much easier and faster since you kinda know where to go.

Saying goodbye to the group when you got back to the parking lot. You help Haechan put your bags in the trunk.

"Hey uhm I was wondering if you want to grab coffee sometime" you're not sure who was speaking so you look behind you only to see Arin standing beside Mark.

For a moment, Mark meets your eyes but you quickly looked away and made your way inside Haechan's car. You'd rather not hear the rest of that conversation, saving your self from the misery.

Haechan looks over at you with confusion, then behind him to see what you saw. And when he saw Mark looking where you were, he understood. He closed the trunk making Arin and Mark look at him, "We'll go now, see you around guys" he shoots them a smile and a wave before jogging over the driver's side.

"You good?" he asks you when he got in the car

"I think so"

"I'm not gonna make fun of you if you say no" he tells you which kind of did make you laugh.

"Just tired, and you still owe me coffee"

"Fine, I'll get you some. Only because you're sulking right now"

You wanted to say he was wrong and that you weren't sulking but that would be not true.

Not sure either why you suddenly feel so down. You and Mark have broken up for over a year and in no place to feel jealous if he decides to date again. And at the end of the day it was yo who broke up him.

Deciding to treat yourself, you walked around the neighborhood to buy some snacks and your favorite ice cream.

Mark just drove Arin home after going out to grab dinner together, they had a good talk. He's not as naïve as Hendery thinks, he can definitely see why he said Arin might like him. But Mark of course being the gentleman that he is, let her down in the most gentle way he could.

"It's just, I'm not really looking for a relationship right now" he tells her

"I understand that, I can wait" she smiles at him, a look of determination on her face. "I've been meaning to say hi to you and introduce myself to you for a while now. And now that I have met you, I really can't promise I that I can stop liking you"

He chuckles at that, "Thanks, I guess. It's for you to decide, all I'm saying is that I might not reciprocate your feelings for me. Sorry"

"What are you sorry for? We still have time, you can atleast give that to me right" Arin asks

In his mind he already said no. He just smiles though.

After he got home, he still couldn't sleep because for some reason he can't keep you off his mind.

Thinking what if it was you in his place, did you ever have someone ask you out. Is there someone else now. Was it Haechan? Yeonjun?

Too lost in his thoughts, he spots a convenient store nearby and decided to buy an ice cream. Just when he step out of the store, he spots someone sitting outside by the benches.

He'd recognize that jacket anywhere because he was the one who bought it. You've always had a love for all things cozy and fluffy. The teddy bear like jacket was a gift from him last Christmas, he can still remember the smile you had on when he gave it to you.

"What are you doing out here?" he asks you, catching you by surprise. He then takes the seat across from you

"Had a bad day, thought the ice cream would make me feel better. You, why are you here?" you ask back, not expecting to meet him here of all places

"Had a lot to think about, thought the ice cream would help" he answers, "Want to talk about it?" Mark asks before he could even think about it. Normally he would stop himself from prying into your business, respecting the boundaries the two of you have now.

Shaking your head in reply, he understood you won't say anything after that

"I can't tell you because it won't be fair" you mumbled

"Why won't it be fair?"

"Because you're my ex" you tell him, it flew right out of your mouth before you stop and think about it. Looking up at Mark to see him looking at you already,

"Don't worry about it, don't worry about me I'll be fine" you mumble with a small smile. Trying to make it better somehow.

"Why do you do that?" he asks

"What?"

"Run. You always run away from me when I get even a step too close. Even when we were together, you always to that. You always had this wall around you that even I couldn't go around, did you not trust me?" for such an intense gaze, he asked that question so calmly. Like his eyes were saying one thing and his lips were saying another.

"I don't trust myself. Every time something good happens to me, I always ruin it. Every time I think I'm the happiest, I get this overwhelming fear that something will take it away from me. I'm messed up, I know that and you're the last person I want to dump all that mess on" you answer.

For the first time since the break up you finally talk about it. Flashbacks of that night replaying in your head. Remembering how he asked you why multiple times and not being able to give him the answer

"Do you think it could've worked if only I held on to you tighter or would you have hated if I did?" he asks

"Probably, but we won't know. I'd rather keep our memories in a good way than regret it"

"Do you hate me?

He waits.

One second.

Two seconds.

His clock stops once again because of you.

Then he hears you speak,

"Never"

You smile at him warmly, just like you used to. "I know it's hard to understand and accept what I did. I didn't want to drag you down with me, I have bad days and even worse days. Back then it felt like you were the only good thing in my life, I was scared that one day I wasn't going to have that"

"So you walked away before anything bad happens?" he continues for you, "I get that, when things get to much the first thing you can think of is to run. It's natural to have a fight or flight response"

"Don't get to academic with me" you mumble, making the guy across from you chuckle before turning serious again

"No really, boyfriend or not you can still talk to me. If it gets too much, you don't have to run all the time. I'll stay right here, I won't go anywhere so when you need someone you can come to me. Run to me, instead than run away from me"

Mark has always had a way with words, this time instead of running away again you listen to him. Sharing a smile.

"I'll walk you home"

"What time is your last class?" Mark asks you over the phone, after that talk you had the two of you have been hanging out more. Taking his promise of being your friend seriously. Now, there isn't a day when you don't talk to each other.

"My last class is over, I'm here at the library. Why?"

"Do you have an umbrella?"

"Why would I need-" just then a loud thunder resonates outside, feeling the rumble of it from inside the library. You then remember the umbrella you left in your room this morning thinking you weren't going to need it.

"I'm outside" he says then hangs up. Quickly you fix your things and made your way outside the library and sure enough Mark's there waiting for you.

It's only a matter of time before the butterflies in your stomach takes over, and this warm feeling in your chest burst out but for now you choose to ignore it. Choosing not to risk this second chance with him.

"What are you doing here?" you ask him even though you've been waiting to see him the whole day.

"What do you think, I'm walking you home" he tells you like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"You have one umbrella, we're not gonna fit there"

"We'll make due, now come on. I'll make us rament later" he says as he pulls your bag from your grasp and sling it on his shoulder. He then takes his hand that wasn't holding the umbrella to hold yours, tugging you right beside him as the two of you make your way outside.

The two of you underestimated the rain and the size of his umbrella because by the time you arrive at your apartment, only the top of your heads weren't wet by the rain.

Quickly opening the door to get inside, you kick your shoes off and turn the lights on

"I think I have some clothes for you, wait here I'll get you towels" you tell him

But before you could walk away from him, you feel his grasp on your wrist holding you back.

"Do you need something?" you ask him

"I- I just feel like if I don't take this chance right now then I would end up regretting it again, just like when I let you go the first time"

"Mark"

"No, you were right, I won't blame you for our past. I can't be angry at you for choosing yourself. We both needed that to grow and learn and discover ourselves. This right now feels like our second chance, I'm not about to risk it and hope for another one to come by. For once, I'm going to take this chance with you. That is if you'll have me"

Maybe he doesn't know just how much he drives you crazy, just how much you'd risk to have another chance with him. It dawned on you just now how it didn't matter what's at stake if you try again with him because what matters the most is him.

Then suddenly you leap right in his arms, not expecting this Mark stumbles a few steps back. But he catches you, holding you close to him like he was afraid you might float away from him.

"I'd take that as a yes"

You lean back enough to meet his eyes, "See, you still know me best. Why don't we get back together" you tease him.

"I asked first" he pouts at you.

Your adorable Mark pouts at you. How can you ever say no to him if he's this cute and adorable. He knows exactly how to use it against you.

"What if it gets too much, if I get too much?" you ask

"You're never too much to me, nothing I can't handle. I love you, all of you. I'll stay here and tell you everyday until you get tired of me"

You giggle at his words, burying your head on his shoulder. You feel him kiss the top of your head before putting you down on your feet.

It's always scary taking chances, but to you and Mark it's scarier to let it pass again. This time you know you don't need to bet anything because you're sure he's there to stay with you.

132 notes · View notes

cherry1sblog · 11 months ago

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I don't understand why people are Soo butt hurt about asking for Ni-ki smut yeah it's a little weird cuz he's JUST turning 18 but they don't have a problem with making stories like that about anyone else's in the group and we basically watched them grow up too just cuz they weren't AS young as Niki doesn't mean they weren't young not only that but some of the smuts they write about the legal line is even more disturbing and disgusting then just simply asking for a slightly suggestive story for Niki seeing as teenagers (not me tho lol) are doing way more and nasty stuff at even younger. And about that thing with the older members like people literally ask for disgusting smut stories all the time like the members watching you and one of them do stuff or I EVEN SAW A NON CON REQUEST THAT SOMEONE ACTUALLY WROTE AND WAS PROUD OF BUT THEN WHEN SOMEONE ASKED THEM TO WRITE ABOUT NIKI NIT EVEN SOMETHING THAT BAD THEY SUDDENLY HAD A PROBLEM WITH IT and someone had asked Ni-ki to be included in the non con thing and I understand being uncomfortable with that but why even write it about that situation in the first place coming from someone who's been sexually assaulted and abused and harassed and taken advantage of multiple time even before I was 8 by people I thought I could trust like multiple of my one of my brothers (I have 3 brothers so one of my brothers) friends and my cousin and someone who was walking me home a classmate and even my brother who let his friends do that to me THAT is disgusting teenagers do nasty inappropriate stuff all the time and none bats an eye but suddenly it's a famous person and there's a problem not saying people sexualizing him is good or ok or not bad I'm just saying there's a double standard it shouldn't be OK for them to write about the other members just cause they are legal it still kind of weird to sexualize them the way people do . Like I can't eleven open tumblr without seeing MDNI and some inappropriate content about them that I don't want to see JUST because I follow enhypen tags or tags like enhypen x reader (even though I mainly only read Niki x reader) AND I'm one year younger than Ni-ki and my bday is the month after his but that's not important what I'm trying to say is that I have like a huuuuugggggeeee crush on Niki like I'm in love with him I swear (not literally I just have like an enormous humongous crush on him) and I don't think that it's that wrong to have feelings that normal teenagers feel (I'm a virgin so I've never done anything) but what I'm saying is it's WWWWASAAAYYYYYYY more weird to ask tobbe non con by the legal line than it is forbme to ask for something like a story where the reader and Ni-ki make out or some (I'm not the one who asked for you to write after he turns 18 just defending you from the people who have been dogging you for no reason when they probably read TONSS ON THOUSANDS Of WWWWWWWAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY WORSE AND MORE DEMEANING AND DISTURBING DISGUSTING THINGS ABOUT THE OTHER MEMBERS AND JUSTIFY IT BY SAYING THAT THEY ARE LEGAL? LIKE COME ON NOW AND THEN THEY HAVE THE NERVE TO MAKE IT SEEM LIKE THEY'RE SAINTS WHEN THEY ARE DOING THE SAME ABD EVEN WORSE TO THE ITHER MEMBERS JUST CAUSE THEY'RE "OF AGE" like seriously a A NON CON REQUEST AND THEY ACTUALLY WROTE IT? that's like not ok especially considering people actually struggle and go through that the double standard is CRAZY LIKE INSANE they don't have the right to look at you when they write and read stuff like non con or sleep stuff that basically just r*pe fics

I know I went on but it's crazy how people will dig you and make you out to be the bad guy when they're doing the same if not worse stuff

You ate all of this up I’m so sorry about what happened to you but your a really strong person and I appreciate what you wrote you couldn’t have said anything more fucking true people are so blinded it’s actually fucking crazy literally everything I wanted to say you summed it up

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valend · 2 months ago

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I'm in. Fucking awe. Are you serious? Like, actually serious? "Social experiment" do you hear yourself? What are you, Freud 2.0? Because you're doing a great job of being as up your own ass as he was. The level of insanity thar seeps through your writing is truly... terrifying. I pity you, really. Being a Hamilton bootlicker must be truly miserable if you go to such lengths on a goddamn tumblr post. Threats? You're your own biggest threat right now, spewing so much nonsense you might just blow up from the effort. "Animals in the zoo" SERIOUSLY WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU ON? RASCAL PLEASE SHOVE THIS SHIT BACK INTO YOUR BUTT IT IS POLLUTING THE FUCKING AIR. "Horrified for the future of this country" shut the fuck up??? I'm horrified that there are people like you out there you're the reason america has fucking guns legal it's so people can protect themselves if they ever see you PEAK OF HUMAN INTELLIGENCE my fucking ass you jeffersonian piece of shit you can go fuck this wobbly kidfucker in your own bedroom if you please. I do not wish to see him anywhere else. Believe me, you are not sane. I don't think you even know the meaning of that word. Oh, and of course, here we go with the thinly veiled threats suck my Cock or say it to my face worm. "Moving on" I'm going to move into your pussy little Bitch. Hamilton is a fuckface who cared only about himself and getting laid, don't start spraying me with that "unclear state of mind bullshit". That man knew what he was doing. If you justify him in any way it tells me everything about you I want to know. Questionable deed is you writing this post dead serious. Should be considered a crime, now that i think about it. Oh, and of course you're a sexist piece of shit. Not surprised. Elizabeth Hamilton didn't leave her husband because firstly, she was greater of a human you could ever dream to be, and secondly, because she fucking couldn't do anything else, because, surprise surprise: women didnt have much rights back then. But maybe you're a fan of that too.Yeah yeah, the old "haha no attention from parents" argument. Significance? None. For your information, your beloved Hamilton had no parents at all — and it didn't stop him from becoming an "accomplished man", in your own words. Tsk. Contradicting yourself again. Try better next time. You know, love, I feel like you deserve a medal, for all that mental gymnastics you're doing now. "Modern times" tell me about it. Your kind have been whining about this shit from about the start of life itself; it's nothing fucking new. I swear, if duels were legal we'd be already having one. If you wouldn't chicken out, of course. Also, I take back my last statement on Hamilton being a boytoy. He's not worthy of even that title. Useless old titsuck. Two cocks? Ha! You sure you're not confusing Hamilton with yourself? 'Cause I can definitely see you sucking those cocks in a dark alleyway all the while your wife wonders where her husband has gone. Pathetic. He'll, I'd even pay to be one of those cocks. You must have at least one redeeming quality — I bet it's a nice mouth which needs to be stuffed with finally shut you up. You're no better than a common whore, only that she is much more honest.

“You’re no better than a common whore, only that she is much more honest”

#literally no comment #I’m going back to translating platos republic

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karahalloway · 1 year ago

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(Less Than) Noble Intentions: Chapter 15 - Not Without Obligation

Fandom: TRR

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series Summary: The social season may be over, but Harper Gale’s problems are just beginning. With everyone at court a potential suspect, can she and Drake survive the engagement tour and get to the bottom of the plot against her and clear her name? An AU take of TRR2 featuring my OTP - Harper & Drake.

Masterlist: (Less Than) Noble Intentions

Chapter Summary: Harper gets a surprise visit from Christian... but are his intentions sincere?

Word Count: 2,800 (short for me, I know enjoy it while you can 😆)

Rating/Warnings: M (swearing, angst, possible ulterior motives)

Chapter theme song:

A/N: I know it's been more than a hot minute since I've updated this series! 😅 This is in part because I got sidetracked by Sleepless in New York also on my list to finish, I know, and then I took most of the summer off from writing. But also in part because I kinda got stuck on how to actually continue with this series... but, I now have a plan! *rubs hands together gleefully* and you ain't gonna like it, sorry, not sorry. So, with this long-awaited installment, I hope to be back in my usual groove and will be posting with some semblance of regularity again. Thanks so much for bearing with me!

A/N2: This is also my submission for @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 Day 25 Prompt - Secret, Surprise I’m only 2 days late

Chapter 15 - Not Without Obligation

Making my way back to my room, I try to push down the conflicting emotions that are roiling inside of me.

On one hand, I get where Drake is coming from, and why he shut the door in my face. We are no longer alone in Applewood and even the faintest whiff of impropriety could implode the carefully strategised work that the royal PR team has put in to try and resuscitate my public image.

And me getting caught outside of the room of a guy who not only is not Christian, but who I have no justifiable reason for seeking out at the butt-crack of dawn in the first place, would definitely scupper the assertion that I'm not a two-timing hussy. Especially since I rushed out of my room earlier wearing nothing more than a t-shirt and panties.

Mitigating factors, they are not.

But while the rational part of my brain knows that Drake is only trying to look out for me, I can't help but feel a pang of dejection at the abruptness with which he — very literally — shut me out, even though he promised yesterday that he wouldn't do something like that to me again.

Because God knows that it had been hard enough to get him to open up the first time!

And even though I'm not expecting him to have completely reversed his habitudes overnight, I guess I'd been hoping that our conversation in the barn would've prompted some kind of step in the desired direction.

Because it's clear that the bruises on my neck unnerved him. The turmoil on his face had made that clear. As the marks are not just some haphazard side-effect of our frantic love-making. They are a very real and visible reminder of the tangible strength of his feelings — and the fact that he lost control of them.

And as much as I understand the knee-jerk cause of his reaction, the last thing I want — or need — right now is for Drake to distance himself from me because he's scared of hurting me again.

That, I could not cope with.

"Demoiselle," nods Allard as I arrive back at my room.

I flash him a distracted smile on auto-pilot. He saw and heard what happened. There is no point rehashing anything. Especially since this isn't something he or Schweitzer can help with.

The weight of my Guard's concerned gaze flick over me as I shuffle past, but they both remain silent, no doubt sensing that I'm not in the mood for conversation.

Shutting the door behind me, I close my eyes as I lean back against the solidness of the wood.

Why are things never simple 'round here?

I really wish Drake and I could've taken a moment to talk things through. Because today's Apple Harvest Festival is expected to see hundreds of people descend onto Applewood to not only celebrate this year's bountiful crop of Cordonian Rubies, but to also catch a glimpse of the new King and his future Queen.

And if I thought that cornering Drake at the apple pick had been hard, the chances of being able to do so today are going to be slim to none.

But the rest of the week doesn't offer any better options because tomorrow we're off to Italy, where we'll likely have even less opportunity for privacy given the high-profile and international nature of the coming engagements.

My eyes snap open. I have to talk to him now.

As much as Drake may be concerned about protecting what's left of my image, I'm not going to let him use the inconvenience of our circumstances as an excuse to hide behind his insecurities or erect walls between us. Because the hard truth is that there's never going to be a good time to talk unless we make time.

Which is exactly what I am going to do, possible scandal be damned. I cannot let a tenuous fear borne out of a possible public backlash hold me back. My relationship with Drake is worth infinitely more to me than whatever garbage the paps may decide to print because some aristo decided to tattle on me if I get caught sneaking back into his room.

Because, let's face it. Even if I do end up on the front pages tomorrow (for all the wrong reasons), the fact of the matter is that any photo, any situation — no matter how sordid or innocent — can be spun any which way.

I've learnt that the hard way. So, I may as well use it to my own advantage for once.

Pushing myself away from the door, I march into my walk-in closet with renewed determination. Pulling the t-shirt that I'd slept in over my head, I quickly throw on a bra, some jean shorts and a black tank top.

Slotting my bare feet into my well-worn Sketchers, I make my way over to the French doors that lead out onto balcony so I can try to figure out the best way to scamper over to Drake's room without killing myself, given that I stand a better chance of slipping under the aristo's nosy radar via the balcony than going back through the corridor.

Hopefully, I can—

Tap, tap tap.

I stop mid-stride at the sound of knocking coming from the other side of my door.

Turning around, I contemplate whether I should respond, or pretend that I hadn't heard.

I have precious little time if I want to catch Drake before he disappears on me to do... whatever it is that he does in the mornings before the start of a royal event.

So, if I want to make it to his room, I need to go now before he finishes getting dressed.

But, then again, there is only a very small number of people at court who'd come directly to my room to talk to me. Especially at this time in the morning.

So, it could be important. It could be about Tariq...

...it could be Drake.

The latch clicks open.

I glance anxiously back towards the balcony, trying to decide if I should—

"May I come in?"

I whirl around in surprise at the sound of the unexpected voice. "Christian!"

He pokes his head 'round the door. "I... I didn't catch you in a state of undress, did I?"

"No! No... I was already dressed," I admit, trying to be as casual as possible as I quickly brush my hair over my shoulders in a haphazard attempt to try and cover up the bruises, given that I hadn't thought to slather any cover-up over myself yet.

Christian definitely doesn’t need to be asking questions about those!

"Ah, good!" he responds, stepping fully into the room and closing the door behind him. "You're an early riser, like myself."

"You can thank the Beaumonts," I mutter under my breath, glancing guiltily back toward the balcony.

So much for stealing a much-needed moment with Drake...

"I apologise for the intrusion," Christian continues, crossing the space between us, "especially at such an early hour. But I was hoping to catch you alone before the start of the Apple Harvest Festival."

One word catches my attention. "A-Alone...?"

He comes to a stop in front of me. "Very much so."

Anxiety flares in the pit of my stomach as Drake's words from yesterday swirl through my mind.

...he's trying to win you back.

And it suddenly hits me that I haven't been alone — truly alone — with Christian since the day of the Jamboree. When he took me into the hedge maze and offered me a duchy.

My mind starts to whirl.

Had that been the start of this... crusade? The fact that I turned him down? Does he still think he can change my mind? Is he simply incapable of accepting 'no' as an answer?

I force my gaze up to meet his.

His emerald green eyes behold me calmly, with maybe a hint of excitement. But I cannot read his intention.

"Wh-why?" I finally blurt out.

A smile spreads across his face. "To bestow upon you your letters patent, of course!"

I gape at him. "My letters of what?"

He chuckles good-naturedly at my evident confusion. "Letters patent. Itis a type of royal decree that formally confers some manner of privilege onto the names designee — an office of state, a coat of arms, a commercial monopoly... or, in this case, your new title as Duchess of Valtoria."

With a flourish, he pulls out a small, leather-bound box that he's been hiding behind his back.

I stare at it mutely.

"It won't bite, I promise," he assures me wryly.

Reaching up with a tepid smile, I accept the box, which is a lot heavier than it looks.

Opening it up, I find a medieval-looking document nestled in the lid, complete with densely-packed Chancery script and and a historiated initial C embossed with the stylised image of the Cordonian royal crest.

Peering at the text — which I can only assume is an archaic form of French — I can just about make out the odd word, like my name, Christian's name, and Valtoria. But the rest remains completely incomprehensible.

Presumably some grand declarations about the bestowal...

In the bottom part of the box rests a cream-coloured envelope also bearing the Cordonian royal crest, along with my name, though this time written in delicate cursive lettering.

"What's this?" I ask Christian, lifting the letter up.

"Your papers of naturalisation," he informs me. "Along with your new passport and ID card."

I glance up at him in surprise. "I am now a Cordonian citizen?"

"It would not have been possible to issue the letters patent otherwise," he says. "Even a king must abide by the diktats of the law."

"I... don't need to sign anything?"

"The US Consulate was very accommodating, given the unique nature of the circumstances."

My stomach twists unexpectedly. "Oh..."

Dual citizenship is a good thing, right?

Returning my attention to the box, I see that the envelope has been concealing a large, intricate-looking seal bearing what appears to be the stylised outline of a rampant phoenix, next to which sits a signet ring with the same image.

"Does it meet expectations?" asks Christian.

"I'm not sure I know what I'd been expecting..." I admit, running a finger over the lines of the mythical bird, marvelling at the level of detail that's been put into creating such a realistic rendering, complete with individual licks of flame spouting from the tail feathers.

"Any egregious spelling errors?"

"Not that I can see," I admit, glancing up at him. "But—"

"Excellent!" he declares, reaching over the lid of the box to deftly pluck the signet ring out from its nest of blue silk.

Before I have a chance to react, he's clasped my hand in his to poise the heavy circlet of gold at the tip of my ring finger.

"Wait!" I gasp in the face of the unexpectedly intimate turn of events. "What are you—?"

"It would be remiss of me if I did not verify the correctness of the sizing," he advises, meeting my panicked gaze calmly.

"You don't need t—"

"It would be my pleasure," he insists, slipping the ring onto the digit before I can protest further.

As he withdraws his hand, my eyes fall onto the spot where the cool metal's unfamiliar weight now encircles the base of my finger.

"Perfect," Christian declares with a satisfied smile, brushing his thumb over the phoenix insignia.

I stare at the band with an uneasily mix of feelings swirling in my chest. "Christian, I—"

"Let's celebrate, shall we?" he announces, pulling back to click his fingers with a decisive snap.

On cue, the door behind Christian swings open to admit a veritable procession of servants bearing ice buckets, champagne, crystal flutes and tiny servings of finger food.

"Wait..." I stammer in the face of organised onslaught. "They were waiting outside this whole time?"

"I may have take a page out of your party planning book," he admits with a grin while the industrious staff set about transforming my bedroom into a first-class tea room. "Seeing the success you had with Drake on his birthday, I thought I would try my hand at surprising you on this important day."

"And that's great, but I never agreed—"

"Didn't you?" Christian asks with a level look as he nabs a miniature scone from the tray of a passing server.

I shake my head. "No, I—"

"Because I specifically recall you giving your unambiguous consent at yesterday's apple pick to proceed with finalising your new status," he states, taking a bite out of the pastry.

I open my mouth, but promptly shut it as the conversation from the orchard floats back into my consciousness.

"...having the paperwork squared away before our departure would grant significant boon for your image."

"Oh. Okay..."

"Oh, fuck..." I mutter as the cold hand of hindsight clamps down on the nape of my neck.

Christian had obviously mischaracterised my somewhat dazed reaction as some kind of explicit affirmation.

And since Drake's appearance yesterday had interrupted the conversation at that key moment, I never had a chance to correct the misunderstanding.

But I need to. Because once again, Christian has taken matters into his own hands and acted without my my prior agreement or approval t. Just like he had done when he decided to send me away during the Coronation Ball, only to then bring me back to court as his mistress, not to mention spring an actual duchy on me without any warning.

And while his heart's probably been in the right place each and every time, I'm not sure that I can cope with any more bolts from the blue.

Especially when they so drastically upend my life.

Heaving a breath, I look back up at the King of Cordonia again. "Look, Christian, I really appreciate all of this, but I think there's been a major—"

The loud bang! of the champagne bottle shooting its cork across the room makes me jump.

Turning around, I can see that the gold-coloured liquid is already in the process of being dispensed into a pair of waiting crystal flutes.

"I hope you like this Moët & Chandon Imperial Vintage 1946 that I had picked out," Christian murmurs, brushing a hand over the small of my back. "It is an exceptional cuvée with notes of citrus, apple and pear — an apt combination, I thought, given the occasion."

"Because of the pear trees in Valtoria..." I surmise heavily, watching a footman bring over a pair of freshly-filled champagne flutes with a foreboding note of finality.

"Exactly," confirms Christian, grabbing a glass from the tray. "A beautifully complimentary pairing. One that hope we can both enjoy for many years to come."

"Yes, but—"

"Let's toast, shall we?" prompts Christian, cutting me off yet again as the footman proffers me the other serving of expensive bubbly.

I stare at it like a poison pill.

This is what Drake had warned me about, isn't it? That Christian would seek to manoeuvre me into a corner like a chess piece... By giving with one hand, only to take with the other when the time came for the chips to fall due. Because what better way to create an unimpeachable sense of obligation than by making me into a duchess? A literal vassal to the Crown? Required to do the King's bidding, no matter the cost?

And if that really is his aim, then he has certainly been succeeding.

But at the same time, I am not sure I can trust my assessment. Christian has given no indication, one way or another, as to where his goals lay. And even if the misunderstanding had been genuine, to turn him down now would not only be inexplicably rude, but maybe also dangerous?

Would I be jeopardising Christian's support in the hunt for Tariq and my quest to set the record straight if I offend him by throwing all his heartfelt effort back in his face? Especially when I don't know for certain what Christian's motives are?

Because what if Drake is wrong? What if there is no hidden agenda and I'm just massively overthinking this entire thing because I've been burned once already and now everyone looks suspect... Even — and especially — when I'm being offered help?

"Harper?" queries Christian. "Everything alright?"

I shake myself out of my stupor and grab the crystal flute. "I'm fine. Just... Trying to come to grips with it all."

"There will be plenty of time for that," he assures me with a grin, raising his glass. "To the new Duchess of Valtoria!"

I clink the delicate crystal in my hand against his with a leaden feeling in my stomach.

There's no going back now...

For better or for worse, I have just become an aristo.

The story continues in Chapter 16 - Snakes in the Garden

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