#lots to think about. few to think about this with. my house is filled with The Plague so we're all working at 50% capacity

[summertimesadnessirl]

They literally just want to pretend that the whole last 50 odd years never happened.

It's so weird. Like? What did you do that you are like this, buddy? Let's talk about it.

Are you upset because you got programmed from birth to believe sex is evil and now you can't get off unless you think God is mad at you and you're committing a crime and one of the people involved in the sex hates it?

Have you heard of BDSM? Because we can literally simulate that feeling just for you using technology for the rest of your life without you having to take over the entire government and kill off a bunch of nice kids with blue hair and shaved eyebrows or who go by a word that makes you think you can't be a naughty boy for wanting to have sex wearing clothes from a different gender occasionally, and those people literally don't care if you wanna be called slurs for doing that when you have sex, believe it or not.

What's your deal? Did it turn out you don't like sex, you just like the idea of something mysterious and otherworldly and pleasureable that nobody introduced you to that other people are totally doing? Because we can fix you right up with drugs and intentionally confusing poetry.

Yeah. You can even start your very own mystery cult if you want, as long as you don't commit genocide or anything. We can all pretend to not know about your mystery cult. We can all pretend to be bad guys from your mystery cult. We can play that game until you barely remember your own name, it's fine.

Do you just need someone to take care of you, like in a disability accommodation kind of way? Or like, are you working too many hours? We can't really fix that with bdsm. We can play that but typically the people doing bdsm only want to play that for a few hours at a time before they need a break, but have you heard about the wonders of automation?

Yeah. We can automate a lot of the stuff that stresses you out like cleaning your floors and paying your bills on time and reordering your prescriptions and your groceries and stuff. It would work better if the minimum wage was higher and the average person got paid more often than biweekly, and we still really need to design housing with a washing machine in the bathroom that washes and dries your clothes instead of putting them in the hamper, but look, we made a little guy who lives in your computer who can take every meeting that should have been an email and turn it into a bulleted list for you. We can also do this thing where he draws pictures of your boss experiencing cartoonish violence or turning into like a weird bug when you are being bullied and it can protect you pretty well from The Emails as well. Yes. I know. The emails are scary.

If your job is really stressing you out you should meet my new friend fully automated luxury communism sometime. Their idea is that we should automate all the jobs where it seems like most of your day is spent kind of hanging out hoping that your boss doesn't realize you aren't working and getting a super high cortisol level for no reason or filling out forms to send to people who use the forms to fill out other forms who get approval via some more forms to make a phone call to a guy who works 20 feet away and give everyone a dividend so that they can work fewer hours and hang out. Yeah, there are a lot of people who believe this who enjoy fighting over the details of that, it's their hobby and also they're all afraid if they don't fight one another a lot they'll turn evil. No, not the sexy kind of evil, the other kind.

Do you need clearly defined rules that you are supposed to follow in social situations in order to feel safe, but also bdsm isn't your thing because you also need other people to follow clearly defined rules? Have you tried video games, team sports, or tabletop games? You might like those.

Did someone hurt you when you were young and call it gender and you didn't realize it because you thought that was just a normal part of growing up and you are getting uncomfortable flashbacks about that time, but talk therapy super doesn't work for you because talking about it makes it worse? That's valid. Have you tried psychedelic drugs yet? Psychedelic drugs have been used to fix that problem and many others like it for generations and generations. Using the magic of psychedelic drugs, we can make sure that you feel totally fine and safe whenever you interact with people being raised in a different way than you were and even carefully obliterate all traces of your childhood trauma for decades at a time. We also can continue to give you more, if that works for ya.

There's really no reason to do nazi shit at all.

Btw, this is how conservatives keep getting to claim that trans people are a new thing no one has ever heard, because our history and existences have continually been erased or obscured systematically through out history.

The most famous example was 92 years when the Nazis raided the library of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, the medical practice where the term transsexual was first coined and the first gender affirming surgery was performed in in 1931.

What did the Nazis do after raiding the library on May 6th, 1933? You may be familiar with these images

It is happening again.

[wrttenbyhan]

midnight comforts

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 :

scared!fem reader x comforting boyfriend!han jisung

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 :

i wasn't ignoring you guys - the next thing i was working on was taking way too long so i decided to make this while you wait - also follow my instagram hanswish! i follow back ~

han always did more than he could handle. he gave you extra presents on special occasions, made sure to give you lots of hugs and kisses everyday and made time to listen to your problems.

you sometimes thought it was too much, but he would always say that it was fine and that he wanted to do this, he wanted to do it for you. you still think that he does a lot either way.

you had a nightmare. han screamed at you to leave and never come back. it felt so real so that when you woke up, you started to cry.

han stirred and woke up, annoyed about being interrupted in his relaxing slumber. but when he saw you crying, his heart broke and he held you close.

“oh you poor thing.. what’s up?”

you tell him the nightmare you just had and kept sobbing into his shirt. he ran his fingers through your hair and sighed.

“it was just a dream, yeah? just breathe,”

he inhaled and exhaled slowly and loudly so you can hear,

“just like that. you’re doing so well. do you want tea? or perhaps some warm milk?”

you don’t respond, the only reply han got was a few sniffles and a small sob. he sighed once more and held you close, rubbing your back gently, trying his best not to mess up.

“shh.. you’re alright, love. everything is fine. i’m here. it was just a nightmare. i would never do anything to hurt you.”

he pressed a few kisses to your head before whispering,

“come on.. let’s get up. you want warm milk, right?”

you nodded and he nodded as well. he shifted out of the bed, slowly standing up. he looks back at you and holds out a hand.

you took han’s warm hand, still sniffling, and he guided you out of bed and into the kitchen,. the entire house was quiet and dark so no one was apparently awake besides you two at the moment.

“sit here for me while i prepare your milk, okay?”

he led you to the barstool and patted your back, going to the cabinets to make the warm milk for you.

you watch as han worked quickly and with ease, heating up the milk and pouring it into a mug he bought for you on your first date with him.

he placed the warm milk in front of you and sits in the stool next to you, his body turned so he was facing you.

“drink up, slowly now..”

he watched you drank the warm milk with a small and reassuring smile on his face. he reached out and places a hand on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze.

“do you feel better, at least a little?”

you nod and place the now empty glass in front of you. he smiles once seeing you finish it, but notices that you weren't saying anything.

he looked you over and saw tears starting to well up in your eyes again. he sighs and gives you a look filled with melancholy.

"you know that that nightmare wasn't real, right? i would never tell you to leave.. or yell at you at matter.”

you nod, but the vivid memory of han screaming at you was still clear as day in your mind, and so you started to sob even more.

he watched as your eyes slowly met his as he gently held your face. he looked at you with sad eyes, his eyebrows furrowed.

“are you scared of losing me or something? is that why you're crying?”

you slowly nod as tears continued to flow down your cheeks. your cheeks felt warm and you had tears all over the sleeve of your hoodie.

han tutted softly and leaned in closer so that your faces were now inches apart.

“oh baby.. i would never want to lose you. you know that, right? i would never want you to go and i’m not going anywhere, love. don’t cry..”

his shirt was now damp but he didn’t care. he continued to rub your back, gently rocking you back and forth, his chin resting on the top of your head. he was trying to soothe you with his comforting and warm words, not knowing what else to do to stop your tears.

“you know what?”

he says, suddenly standing up. his arms snaked around your waist. he started to sway, side to side, to and fro, with only the refrigerator light for you to see, the only music being the hum of the heater and the passing cars.

your arms find themselves around his neck. he smiles tiredly, and you rest your head on his shoulder as you two slow danced.

he lifts your chin and looks you in the eye.

“you good, baby?”

when you nod, he smiles softly, and continues swaying. it was quiet. but it wasn’t uncomfortable. it was actually quite nice. just him and you, in the kitchen, slow dancing at three in the morning. he burrows his face in the crook of your neck, leaving feathery kisses every so often.

he hums, the vibration from his throat sending a shiver down your spine. he was definitely tired. but he wasn't going to go back to sleep until you were in the bed with him again.

he pulls away for a moment, lifting your chin once more. he cups your cheek, and kisses your forehead gently.

“baby, c’mon. let’s go back to bed.”

he groans quietly, he wanted to go back to bed. but he wouldn't force you if you wanted to keep dancing. he continues to sway you to and fro, and he hums again. the melody was soothing, and it was the perfect lullaby to get you tired again. he rubs your back in circles, and nuzzles his face in your neck again

he lifts his head up and looks at you with a smirk plastered on his face. you two lock eyes, and he stares at you with a look of adoration. he then closes his eyes in a tired manner.

“please, let’s go back to bed..”

he murmurs softly, and you sigh, giving in. the thought of a nice warm bed with your boyfriend is just too good to say no to.

you nod and han drags you over to the bedroom.

he holds you close, his head on top of yours as he hums softly. he rubs your back in slow, smooth motions. after a few moments of silence, he whispers.

“did you want to talk about it some more..?”

“no, i’m good now.”

he lets out a soft sigh of relief, continuing to rub your back.

“well... if you ever need anything, just wake me up, yeah? even if it’s four am in the goddamn morning.”

he chuckles softly.

“i’m serious, you can wake me up anytime.”

he shifts a bit so that he's able to press a kiss to the top of your head, his hold on you tightening a little. you sigh and mumble,

“i love you, han.”

he smiles warmly, his heart feeling full.

“i love you too.”

with one hand, he gently grabs your chin and tilts your head up. he kisses your forehead, both of your cheeks and then your lips, each one slow and filled with so much love.

[tosomeonessomeone]

The mark of two worlds.

words・ 6.9k /pairings・ Jisung x reader / genres・fluff, a little angst / warnings・ love making

On your 21st birthday, the world as you knew it changed forever. It started with a strange tingling sensation on your wrist, where a small, intricate mark had appeared overnight. At first, you thought it was just a weird birthmark or a temporary tattoo you’d forgotten about. But then, in the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your cozy apartment in Seoul. Instead, you found yourself standing in the middle of a quaint, sunlit living room in a house you’d never seen before.

Panic surged through you. *Where am I? How did I get here?* You stumbled backward, your heart racing, as you took in your surroundings. The house was warm and inviting, filled with soft furniture, bookshelves lined with your favorite novels, and a kitchen that smelled faintly of vanilla. It felt... familiar, as if it had been waiting for you.

Over the next few weeks, you discovered that the mark on your wrist was no ordinary mark. It was a *soulmate mark*, a gateway to an alternate universe. Every time you touched it and focused, you could teleport between your world and this peaceful, idyllic house in a charming little city. It became your sanctuary, a place where you could escape the chaos of your life.

In your world, you were a rising star—a recently graduated literature student turned international sensation after your debut novel took the world by storm. Your days were filled with interviews, book signings, and endless deadlines. But here, in this other universe, you were just... *you*. No fame, no expectations, just quiet moments to breathe and be yourself.

For three years, you visited the house regularly, growing more and more attached to it. You filled the shelves with your favorite books, cooked meals in the cozy kitchen, and even planted flowers in the small garden outside. It felt like a second home, a place where you could recharge before returning to your hectic life.

But one day, everything changed.

You teleported to the house as usual, expecting the familiar silence and solitude. Instead, you were met with the sound of someone crashing into a table, followed by a startled yelp. Your eyes widened as you saw a boy—no, a man—in his early twenties, standing in the middle of the living room, looking just as shocked as you were.

He had messy brown hair, wide, panicked eyes, and a mark on his wrist that glowed faintly, just like yours. For a moment, you both just stared at each other, frozen in place.

“W-who are you?!” he stammered, his voice trembling. “How did I get here?!”

You recognized him instantly. It was *Han Jisung*, the talented rapper, singer, and lyricist from Stray Kids. But in this moment, he wasn’t the confident idol you’d seen on stage. He was just a boy, confused and scared, just like you had been three years ago.

“I... I think I’m your soulmate,” you said softly, holding up your wrist to show him the mark.

His eyes darted to your wrist, then to his own, and the realization slowly dawned on him. “Soulmate marks... alternate universes... this is insane,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But... it kind of makes sense?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the tension in the room easing just a little. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in. But... welcome to your second home, Jisung.”

He blinked at you, his panic slowly giving way to curiosity. “You know who I am?”

“Of course I do. You’re kind of a big deal in my world,” you said with a smile. “But here... you’re just Jisung. And I’m just me.”

For the first time, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Just Jisung, huh? I think I like the sound of that.”

One of the first things you did was exchange numbers. It was a practical decision—after all, you both had lives to return to in your normal universes—but it quickly became something more. Texts turned into late-night phone calls, and soon, you were sharing snippets of your days with each other. Jisung would send you voice notes of new lyrics he was working on, and you’d send him photos of your writing desk or the view from your apartment window. It was a strange but beautiful way to build a connection, bridging the gap between your two worlds.

Your weekly meetings in the alternate universe became a ritual. Every Saturday afternoon, without fail, you’d both teleport to the house and spend hours together. Sometimes you’d cook meals in the cozy kitchen, laughing as Jisung attempted (and failed) to chop vegetables without nearly cutting his fingers off. Other times, you’d curl up on the couch with a book or a movie, enjoying the simple pleasure of each other’s company.

One of the best parts of this alternate universe was the freedom it offered. You could go out for walks in the city without worrying about paparazzi or fans recognizing you. The streets were quiet and peaceful, lined with quaint shops and cafes. It felt like a dream, a world where you could just exist as two ordinary people, hand in hand, without a care in the world.

But back in your normal universe, things were a little more complicated. Jisung couldn’t keep the secret of your relationship from his Stray Kids members for long. One evening, during a late-night practice session, he accidentally let it slip.

“So, uh, I’ve been spending a lot of time with someone,” he said casually, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

The room went silent. All eyes turned to him.

“Wait, what?” Changbin was the first to break the silence. “You’ve been *what*?”

“Who is it?” Hyunjin demanded, his eyes narrowing. “Is it someone we know?”

Jisung hesitated, but the members weren’t about to let him off the hook. Under their relentless questioning, he finally caved and told them everything—about the soulmate mark, the alternate universe, and you.

The reaction was... loud, to say the least.

“YOU HAVE A SOULMATE?!” Felix shouted, his voice echoing off the walls.

“And she’s *the* Y/N? The writer?!” Jeongin added, looking utterly starstruck.

“This is so unfair!” Seungmin complained, crossing his arms. “Why does Jisung get to have a soulmate who’s, like, the coolest person ever?”

Chan, ever the leader, tried to calm everyone down, but even he couldn’t hide his curiosity. “So, when do we get to meet her?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Jisung groaned, burying his face in his hands. “No way. Absolutely not. She’s *my* soulmate, and I’m not sharing her with you guys. You’ll just annoy her.”

But the members weren’t about to take no for an answer. Over the next few days, they bombarded Jisung with demands to meet you in your normal universe. They even started brainstorming ways to “accidentally�� run into you, much to Jisung’s dismay.

“They’re relentless,” he complained to you during one of your weekly meetings. “I swear, if they ever meet you, they’re going to embarrass me so much.”

You laughed, leaning your head on his shoulder. “I think it’s sweet. They just want to make sure I’m good enough for you.”

Jisung rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his smile. “You’re more than good enough. They’re just jealous.”

Despite his protests, you could tell that Jisung was secretly pleased by how much his members cared. And while you weren’t quite ready to meet them yet, you couldn’t help but feel a little excited at the thought of being welcomed into his world—even if it meant dealing with seven overprotective Stray Kids members.

After weeks of relentless pestering, Jisung finally gave in. The Stray Kids members had made it clear that they weren’t going to drop the subject until they met you, and Jisung knew better than to fight a losing battle. So, one evening, he texted you with a mix of excitement and dread.

**Jisung:** So... the guys won’t stop bugging me about meeting you. I tried to hold them off, but they’re like a pack of wolves. What do you think? Are you up for it?

You stared at your phone, a nervous flutter in your chest. Meeting Jisung’s members was a big step, and while you were curious about the people who meant so much to him, the thought of facing eight incredibly talented and charismatic idols was more than a little intimidating. Still, you couldn’t deny that you were curious about them too.

**You:** I mean... I guess it’s inevitable, right? As long as they promise not to interrogate me too much, I’m in.

**Jisung:** Oh, they’re definitely going to interrogate you. But don’t worry, I’ll protect you. Mostly.

You laughed, shaking your head. **You:** Mostly? That’s not very reassuring.

**Jisung:** Trust me, you’ll be fine. You’re amazing, and they’re going to love you. Just... maybe brace yourself for a lot of chaos.

The day of the meeting arrived, and Jisung had arranged for you to come to the Stray Kids dorm after their practice. You stood outside the building, clutching a small bag of pastries you’d brought as a peace offering, and took a deep breath. Before you could second-guess yourself, the door swung open, and Jisung appeared, his face lighting up when he saw you.

“Hey,” he said, pulling you into a quick hug. “You ready for this?”

“Not even a little,” you admitted, laughing nervously. “But let’s do it anyway.”

He grinned and took your hand, leading you inside. The moment you stepped into the living room, all eyes turned to you. The members were scattered around the room, some on the couch, others on the floor, but they all froze when they saw you.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” Jisung announced, his voice a mix of pride and apprehension. “Y/N, this is... well, you know who they are.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, all at once, chaos erupted.

“Oh my god, it’s really her!” Felix exclaimed, jumping to his feet.

“Hi, I’m Hyunjin,” Hyunjin said, giving you a dramatic bow. “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“Did you really write *Whispers in the Dark*?” Jeongin asked, his eyes wide with awe. “That book destroyed me.”

“Okay, okay, give her some space,” Jisung said, stepping in front of you like a human shield. “Don’t scare her off before she even sits down.”

You laughed, holding up the bag of pastries. “I brought these as a peace offering. I figured you guys might be hungry after practice.”

“You’re already my favorite,” Changbin declared, grabbing the bag and peeking inside. “Oh, these look amazing.”

As the members dug into the pastries, the initial tension eased, and the room filled with lively chatter. They bombarded you with questions—about your books, your writing process, and how you and Jisung had met—but it was all so genuine and enthusiastic that you couldn’t help but feel at ease.

At one point, Chan leaned over to Jisung and whispered, “You’re so lucky. She’s perfect.”

Jisung grinned, his chest puffing with pride. “I know.”

The evening flew by in a blur of laughter and stories. The members took turns teasing Jisung, much to his embarrassment, but it was all in good fun. You quickly realized that this was just their way of showing affection, and you couldn’t help but admire how close they were.

As the night wound down, Jisung walked you to the door, his hand lingering in yours. “So... what did you think?” he asked, his voice soft.

“They’re amazing,” you said, smiling up at him. “A little overwhelming, but amazing. I can see why they mean so much to you.”

He smiled, his eyes warm. “Yeah, they’re my family. And now... you’re part of that too.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you squeezed his hand. “I’m glad.”

As you left the dorm, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. Meeting Jisung’s members had been a big step, but it had also brought you closer to him—and to the world he called home. And as chaotic as it was, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

——

Almost a year had passed since Jisung first stumbled into your shared sanctuary, and in that time, your bond had only grown stronger. You’d shared countless moments together—laughing over burnt pancakes, staying up late talking about your dreams, and exploring the charming streets of your alternate universe. But there was one thing Jisung had never done: kiss you.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. In fact, the thought crossed his mind more often than he cared to admit. But Jisung was a gentleman at heart, and he wanted everything to be perfect. He didn’t want to rush or pressure you, so he held back, content to simply be by your side.

That is, until Minho brought it up.

It was a rare quiet afternoon at the Stray Kids dorm. Jisung was lounging on the couch, scrolling through his phone, when Minho plopped down beside him with a mischievous grin.

“So,” Minho began, his tone dripping with curiosity, “how’s Y/N?”

Jisung glanced at him, sensing trouble. “She’s great. Why?”

Minho shrugged, feigning innocence. “No reason. I was just wondering... have you kissed her yet?”

Jisung froze, his cheeks turning bright red. “W-what? That’s none of your business!”

Minho raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying Jisung’s flustered reaction. “Almost a year together, and you haven’t even kissed her? Jisung, what are you waiting for? A written invitation?”

“It’s not that simple,” Jisung muttered, sinking into the couch. “I don’t want to mess things up. What if she’s not ready? What if I’m bad at it? What if—”

“What if you stop overthinking and just go for it?” Minho interrupted, rolling his eyes. “Y/N clearly adores you. Trust me, she’s not going to run away if you kiss her.”

Jisung groaned, covering his face with a pillow. “Why are you like this?”

Minho laughed, patting Jisung on the shoulder. “Because someone has to knock some sense into you. Now go. Be the dorky gentleman she fell for, but maybe add a little romance, huh?”

Later that evening, Jisung teleported to the alternate universe, his mind still racing from Minho’s words. You were in the kitchen, humming to yourself as you stirred a pot of soup. The sight of you—so effortlessly beautiful and at ease—made his heart skip a beat.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the doorway.

You turned and smiled at him. “Hey yourself. Hungry? I made your favorite.”

He nodded, but his usual enthusiasm was replaced with a nervous energy. As the two of you sat down to eat, he couldn’t stop replaying Minho’s advice in his head. *Just go for it. Be romantic.*

After dinner, you moved to the living room, where a cozy fire crackled in the fireplace. You curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, and Jisung sat beside you, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

“You’re quiet tonight,” you said, tilting your head to look at him. “Everything okay?”

Jisung took a deep breath, his heart pounding. “Yeah, I just... I’ve been thinking.”

“About what?”

He hesitated, then turned to face you, his eyes searching yours. “About us. About how much you mean to me. And about how I’ve been too scared to do something I’ve wanted to do for a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you realized what he was saying. “Jisung...”

Before you could say more, he leaned in, his hand gently cupping your cheek. His touch was warm and tentative, as if he was giving you every opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. Instead, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, lingering kiss.

It was everything Jisung had imagined and more—sweet, tender, and filled with all the emotions he’d been holding back. When he finally pulled away, his cheeks were flushed, and he couldn’t stop the goofy grin spreading across his face.

“Wow,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “That was... wow.”

You laughed, your own cheeks tinged with pink. “Took you long enough.”

He groaned, burying his face in your shoulder. “Don’t tease me. I was nervous, okay?”

You wrapped your arms around him, resting your head against his. “Well, for the record, it was worth the wait.”

Jisung smiled, his heart swelling with happiness. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he’d gotten something exactly right. And as the fire crackled and the night stretched on, he knew this was just the beginning of a new chapter in your story—one he couldn’t wait to write with you.

Over the next few months, your relationship with Jisung deepened in ways you hadn’t imagined possible. The kiss had opened a door to a new level of intimacy, and every moment you spent together felt like a treasure. Here are some of the most memorable moments that defined your journey:

The Rainy Day Adventure

One afternoon, as you both lounged in the cozy house, a sudden downpour began. The rain tapped against the windows, creating a soothing rhythm. Jisung, ever the spontaneous one, grabbed your hand and pulled you outside.

“What are you doing?!” you laughed, shielding your face from the rain.

“Living a little!” he shouted back, spinning you around in the middle of the empty street. The two of you danced and splashed in puddles like kids, completely drenched but utterly carefree. When you finally ran back inside, shivering and laughing, Jisung wrapped a blanket around you and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, grinning up at him.

“Yeah, but you love it,” he replied, his eyes sparkling.

The Late-Night Confession

One night, after a long day in your respective universes, you both teleported to the house at the same time. Exhausted, you collapsed onto the couch, your head resting on Jisung’s shoulder. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the refrigerator.

“Can I tell you something?” Jisung asked, his voice breaking the silence.

You looked up at him, curious. “Of course.”

He hesitated, then said, “I used to think I didn’t deserve something like this—like you. Being an idol, it’s easy to feel like you’re always performing, even when you’re not on stage. But with you... I feel like I can just be me. And that means more to me than anything.”

Your heart ached at his vulnerability. “Jisung, you deserve every good thing in the world. And I’m so glad I get to be part of your life.”

He smiled, pulling you closer. “Me too.”

The First Fight

Not every moment was perfect. One day, after a particularly stressful week, you and Jisung had your first real argument. It started over something trivial—a missed text message—but quickly escalated into a heated discussion about balancing your relationship with your individual lives.

“I just feel like you don’t understand how hard it is for me to juggle everything,” Jisung said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“And I feel like you don’t understand how much I worry about you,” you shot back.

The fight ended with both of you storming off to different rooms. But after a few hours of cooling down, Jisung found you in the kitchen, where you were absently stirring a cup of tea.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, leaning against the doorway. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like your feelings don’t matter.”

You looked up at him, your anger melting away. “I’m sorry too. I know you’re doing your best.”

He crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you, his chin resting on your head. “We’ll figure it out, okay? Together.”

The Quiet Moments

Not every moment was grand or dramatic. Some of your favorite memories were the quiet ones—reading side by side on the couch, Jisung humming as he cooked breakfast, or simply holding hands as you walked through the city. Those moments reminded you that love wasn’t always about big gestures; sometimes, it was about simply being together.

As the months turned into years, your relationship with Jisung became a tapestry of these moments—big and small, joyful and challenging. And through it all, one thing remained constant: the unwavering love and connection you shared, a bond that transcended universes and defied all odds.

——

The day of your one-year anniversary arrived, and Jisung had been acting suspiciously secretive all week. He’d been texting more than usual, disappearing for hours at a time, and even shooing you out of the house in the alternate universe with vague excuses like, “I just need to... uh, reorganize the bookshelf. Yeah.”

You played along, pretending not to notice his nervous energy, but you couldn’t help feeling excited. Jisung wasn’t exactly subtle, and you had a feeling he was planning something special.

When the day finally came, Jisung teleported to your apartment in your normal universe, looking unusually dressed up in a crisp white shirt and dark jeans. He held out his hand, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Ready?” he asked.

“For what?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“You’ll see,” he said, grinning.

He led you to a rooftop garden you’d never been to before. It was breathtaking—strings of fairy lights crisscrossed overhead, casting a warm glow over the space. A small table was set up in the center, complete with candles, flowers, and a bottle of champagne. Soft music played in the background, and the city skyline stretched out before you, twinkling like a sea of stars.

“Jisung... this is incredible,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I wanted to make tonight special. Because you’re special.”

The two of you sat down to a delicious meal, laughing and reminiscing about the past year. Jisung told you stories about his early days as a trainee, and you shared your own memories of writing your first book. It was a perfect evening, filled with love and laughter.

After dinner, Jisung handed you a small, beautifully wrapped box. “Happy anniversary,” he said, his voice soft.

You opened it carefully, your breath catching when you saw what was inside. It was a delicate silver bracelet, with a tiny charm shaped like a book. Engraved on the back were the words, *“To my favorite story.”*

“Jisung...” you said, your eyes filling with tears. “It’s beautiful.”

He took the bracelet and fastened it around your wrist, his fingers lingering on your skin. “You’re my favorite story, Y/N. Every chapter with you is better than the last.”

Later that night, back in the alternate universe, the two of you sat by the fireplace, wrapped in a blanket. The air between you was charged with a new kind of energy, a quiet understanding that something had shifted.

Jisung reached out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leaned in. His kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with all the love and longing he’d been holding back. You responded in kind, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer.

The alternate universe’s house was bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, the curtains gently swaying in the breeze from the open window. You and Jisung had spent the evening wrapped in each other’s arms, talking and laughing, but as the hours passed, the air between you shifted. There was a new kind of tension, a quiet understanding that something deeper was unfolding.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed, your fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on the sheets, when Jisung walked over and knelt in front of you. His eyes, usually so full of mischief and energy, were soft and serious as they met yours.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I need you to know something.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding as you waited for him to continue.

“You mean everything to me,” he said, his hands resting on your knees. “Not just because of the soulmate mark or because of this universe. You mean everything because of who you are. Because you make me feel like I can be myself, completely and without fear.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you reached out to cup his face. “Jisung, you’re my whole world. More than I can ever put into words.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment before he stood up, pulling you with him. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space between you. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if he was savoring the moment. But when you responded, kissing him back with equal intensity, the hesitation melted away.

The kiss deepened, slow and deliberate, filled with all the love and longing you’d both been holding back. His hands moved to the small of your back, pressing you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. Every touch, every breath, felt like a promise—a promise to love, to protect, to cherish.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.

You nodded, your heart swelling with emotion. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He smiled, his eyes searching yours for a moment before he leaned in again, his lips trailing soft kisses along your jawline and down your neck. Your breath hitched as his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, his touch gentle but confident. He pulled it over your head, his eyes never leaving yours as he took in the sight of you.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks, but before you could respond, he kissed you again, his hands exploring every inch of your skin. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as he slowly undressed you, each movement filled with reverence.

When you were both bare, he laid you down on the bed, his body hovering over yours. His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, you felt completely and utterly seen. There was no pretense, no masks—just the two of you, raw and vulnerable.

He kissed you again, his hands roaming your body as if he was memorizing every curve, every freckle. His lips trailed down your chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You gasped as he reached the sensitive skin of your stomach, your fingers tightening in his hair.

“Jisung,” you breathed, your voice barely audible.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark with desire but still filled with love. “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ll always have you.”

When he finally entered you, it was slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. The connection between you was overwhelming, a perfect blend of physical and emotional intimacy. Every movement, every touch, was filled with love and trust, a silent promise that this was more than just passion—it was forever.

As the world outside faded away, it was just the two of you, lost in each other. The stars outside the window seemed to shine brighter, as if they were bearing witness to this moment, this unbreakable bond between soulmates.

When it was over, you lay together, your bodies intertwined, your breaths slowly returning to normal. Jisung pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you.

“You’re my forever,” he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

You smiled, your heart overflowing with love. “And you’re mine.”

And as you drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of moments like this—moments of love, of trust, of unshakable connection.

The morning after your anniversary, you woke up to the soft sound of Jisung humming. The sunlight streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. You turned to see him sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed and looking at you with a soft smile.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice gentle.

“Good morning,” you replied, stretching lazily. “What are you doing up so early?”

He shrugged, his smile turning mischievous. “I wanted to make you breakfast. But I also didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

You sat up, pulling the blanket around you. “Breakfast, huh? Should I be worried?”

He laughed, standing up and offering you his hand. “Come on, let’s find out.”

In the kitchen, Jisung had laid out an impressive spread—pancakes, fresh fruit, and even a pot of your favorite tea. You raised an eyebrow, impressed.

“Did you actually make all this?” you asked, teasing.

“Hey, I’m full of surprises,” he said, pretending to be offended. “Besides, I had some help from a certain someone who may or may not have left me a recipe.”

You laughed, sitting down at the table. “Well, it looks amazing. Thank you.”

As you ate, the conversation flowed easily, filled with the kind of comfortable banter that had become second nature to you. Jisung told you about a new song he was working on, and you shared your latest writing project. It was a perfect morning, filled with laughter and love.

After breakfast, Jisung suggested spending the day exploring the alternate universe’s city. The two of you wandered through the streets, hand in hand, stopping at little shops and cafes along the way. It was a rare treat to be able to go out without worrying about paparazzi or fans, and you soaked in every moment.

At one point, you stumbled upon a small park with a beautiful fountain in the center. Jisung pulled you over to it, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Make a wish,” he said, handing you a coin.

You closed your eyes, thought for a moment, and tossed the coin into the water. When you opened your eyes, Jisung was watching you with a curious smile.

“What did you wish for?” he asked.

“If I tell you, it won’t come true,” you replied, teasing.

He pouted, but then his expression softened. “I think I can guess.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s that?”

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “That we’ll always have this. That no matter what happens, we’ll always find our way back to each other.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to cup his cheek. “You’re pretty good at guessing.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know you better than you think.”

As the stars began to appear in the sky, you and Jisung sat together, wrapped in a blanket and lost in your own world. The future was uncertain, but one thing was clear—you were in this together, no matter what.

——

Despite Jisung’s initial reluctance, the Stray Kids members eventually wore him down and convinced him to let them spend a day with you in your normal universe. Jisung had been hesitant, worried about how the group dynamic might overwhelm you, but he finally gave in after relentless teasing and pleading from the members. “Fine,” he said, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. “But if any of you embarrass me, I’m kicking you out of the dorm.”

The day started early, with Jisung picking you up from your apartment. He was unusually jittery, pacing back and forth as you grabbed your bag. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he asked, his voice tinged with both excitement and anxiety. “They’re... a lot.”

You laughed, slipping your hand into his. “I think I can handle it. Besides, I’ve been curious about meeting them properly.”

The plan was to meet the group at a popular café in Seoul, one that was known for being idol-friendly and discreet. When you arrived, the members were already there, seated around a large table and chatting animatedly. The moment Jisung walked in with you, the room erupted.

“Finally!” Changbin exclaimed, standing up and waving dramatically. “We were starting to think Jisung was hiding you forever.”

“Y/N!” Felix called out, his bright smile lighting up the room. “Over here!”

You waved back, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as Jisung led you to the table. Introductions were quick—most of them already knew who you were, thanks to Jisung’s endless stories—and soon you were seated between Jisung and Hyunjin, who immediately started asking you about your latest book.

“I read it in one sitting,” Hyunjin said, his eyes wide with enthusiasm. “The way you write about emotions—it’s like you’re inside my head.”

You laughed, flattered. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

The café visit was just the beginning. From there, the group decided to make a day of it, dragging you along to various spots around Seoul. First was a visit to a popular arcade, where Jeongin challenged you to a game of air hockey. (“I’m not going easy on you just because you’re Jisung’s soulmate,” he declared, only to lose spectacularly.)

Next was a spontaneous karaoke session in a private room, where the members took turns performing their favorite songs. Jisung, of course, stole the show with an impromptu rap he’d written about you, much to your embarrassment and the group’s delight.

“Y/N, you’re inspiring lyrics now!” Chan teased, clapping Jisung on the back. “Watch out, or he’ll write a whole album about you.”

Jisung’s cheeks turned pink, but he didn’t deny it. “Maybe I will,” he muttered, earning a round of cheers from the group.

Amid the chaos, there were quieter moments too. At one point, Minho pulled you aside while the others were busy arguing over which song to sing next. “Can I talk to you for a second?” he asked, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

You nodded, following him to a quieter corner of the room. “Is everything okay?”

Minho smiled, shaking his head. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I just wanted to say... you’re good for him, you know. Jisung. He’s happier when he’s with you.”

The comment caught you off guard, and you felt a warm rush of gratitude. “Thank you, Minho. That means a lot.”

He shrugged, his usual playful demeanor returning. “Don’t tell him I said that, though. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

You laughed, promising to keep it between the two of you.

By late afternoon, the group was starving, so they decided to hit up a famous barbecue spot. The meal was a feast, with plates of meat, kimchi, and banchan covering the table. Jisung, ever the gentleman, made sure your plate was always full, even as the others playfully fought over the last piece of samgyeopsal.

“Y/N, you have to try this,” Felix said, handing you a piece of grilled pork wrapped in lettuce. “It’s life-changing.”

You took a bite, nodding in agreement. “Okay, you’re right. This is amazing.”

As the meal went on, the conversation turned to stories about Jisung—embarrassing ones, of course. “Remember that time he tripped on stage during rehearsal?” Seungmin said, grinning. “He tried to play it off like it was part of the choreography.”

Jisung groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why do you guys do this to me?”

You laughed, squeezing his hand. “Don’t worry. I think it’s cute.”

As the sun began to set, the group reluctantly decided to call it a day. The members hugged you goodbye, each of them promising to hang out again soon. “You’re officially one of us now,” Chan said, giving you a warm smile. “Welcome to the family.”

Jisung walked you home, his hand firmly in yours. “So... what did you think?” he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

You smiled up at him. “I think they’re amazing. A little overwhelming, but amazing. I can see why they mean so much to you.”

He sighed in relief, pulling you into a hug. “I’m glad you had fun. And... thanks for putting up with them. They can be a lot.”

You laughed, resting your head against his chest. “They’re your family. And now they’re mine too.”

As you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realized just how much your life had changed since meeting Jisung. It wasn’t just him—it was his world, his friends, his family. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

But then, it happened.

A fan recognized Jisung. Then another. And another. Within minutes, a crowd had gathered, phones out, cameras flashing. You tried to stay calm, but the situation escalated quickly. Someone snapped a photo of Jisung holding your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours. Another caught him leaning in to whisper something in your ear, his expression soft and intimate.

The photos went viral within hours.

The internet exploded. Your fans were thrilled, flooding your social media with messages of support and excitement. “Finally!” one comment read. “We always knew you’d find your soulmate!” But Jisung’s fans were... less kind. While some were happy for him, others lashed out, accusing you of being a distraction or questioning the authenticity of your relationship. The comments were relentless, and the pressure was overwhelming.

Jisung tried to shield you from the worst of it, but it was impossible to avoid. The constant scrutiny, the invasive questions, the speculation—it all became too much. You started having anxiety attacks, your chest tightening every time you opened your phone or stepped outside. Jisung, who had battled social anxiety himself, recognized the signs immediately.

“We need to get out of here,” he said one night, his voice firm but gentle. “Just for a little while. Until things calm down.”

You nodded, tears streaming down your face. “I can’t do this, Jisung. I can’t.”

He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly. “You don’t have to. We’ll figure it out together.”

The two of you teleported to the alternate universe, to the house that had always been your sanctuary. For a month, you disappeared from the world. No social media, no interviews, no public appearances. Just you and Jisung, finding solace in each other and the quiet life you’d built together.

During that time, Jisung kept in touch with Chan, who acted as a bridge between you and the outside world. “Y/N’s struggling,” Jisung explained during one of their calls. “She’s having social anxiety, and I know how bad that can be. I need to protect her.”

Chan understood. “Take all the time you need,” he said. “We’ll handle things on this end.”

The members were supportive, sending messages of encouragement and keeping the worst of the rumors at bay. But even with their help, the outside world felt like a distant, hostile place.

After a month, things began to calm down. The initial frenzy had died down, and while the comments and speculation hadn’t completely stopped, they were less overwhelming. You and Jisung spent hours talking about what to do next.

“We can’t hide forever,” you said one evening, sitting by the fireplace. “I don’t want to live in fear.”

Jisung nodded, his hand squeezing yours. “I don’t either. But we need to do this on our terms.”

Together, you decided to make an official statement. It was time to tell the world the truth—about your soulmate marks, about your relationship, and about the need for privacy.

The day of the announcement, you and Jisung sat side by side, holding hands as you recorded a video. It was short but heartfelt.

“Hi, everyone,” Jisung began, his voice steady. “We wanted to take a moment to address the rumors and share something important with you. Y/N and I... we’re soulmates. We discovered this almost two years ago, and it’s been the most incredible journey of our lives.”

You smiled, picking up where he left off. “Our relationship is something we’ve always cherished, and we’ve worked hard to protect it. But recently, things have gotten out of hand. The invasion of our privacy has been overwhelming, and it’s taken a toll on both of us.”

Jisung nodded, his expression serious. “We’re asking for your understanding and respect. We’re just two people trying to navigate life together, and we hope you can support us in a way that allows us to do that.”

The video ended with a simple message: “Thank you for your love and support. Please give us the space we need to be happy.”

The reaction was mixed but mostly positive. Your fans rallied behind you, flooding your social media with messages of love and support. Jisung’s fans, while still divided, began to come around, many of them expressing their respect for your honesty and vulnerability.

The Stray Kids members were the first to publicly support you, posting messages of encouragement and urging fans to respect your privacy. “Love is love,” Chan wrote. “Let’s give them the space they deserve.”

In the weeks that followed, you and Jisung slowly began to re-enter the world. You were more cautious, more intentional about what you shared and how you presented yourselves. But the weight of secrecy was gone, replaced by a sense of freedom and relief.

One evening, as you sat together in the alternate universe’s house, Jisung turned to you with a smile. “We made it through,” he said. “And we’re stronger because of it.”

You nodded, leaning into him. “Yeah, we are. And no matter what happens, we’ll always have this.”

As the fire crackled and the stars shone outside, you knew that this was just another chapter in your story—a story that was far from over.

[reverd-ck]

ch.2- he's so perfect, blah blah blah

You blinked into a familiar ceiling. Where have you last seen this?

The morning light shone through the window, penetrating through the blinds. Its pattern left a soft glow of illumination into the room. It took your eyes a few seconds to finally understand: This was Choso’s apartment, and you were in his guest room. 

How did that happen?

Breathing in a deep breath, you feel that your throat is unusually dry, and your face feels a little sticky. You clear your throat as you slowly sit up, your aching muscles straining to support your weight. When you got up, a headache out of nowhere hit you like a truck.

Pulsing in relentless waves, it attacked your head over and over again, never once settling down. Hands shooting up to your temples, you try to massage your head, and ease the throbbing pain. 

Headache, dry throat, and the sorest muscles ever. Yeah, you definitely got drunk last night. 

Moving your legs off the bed and groaning, you head towards the washroom to try to clean yourself up. You washed your face with hot water, which helped soothing the headache a bit more. You could only wash your face as there wasn't a toothbrush or anything for you to use, so to satisfy your other need, you went into the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

As you were filling up the glass, you heard some small footsteps, and the creak of a door. Yuji had woken up, and was also going to the bathroom to do his routine. When he opened his door, he saw you in the kitchen. You two exchange a glance while Yuji rubs his eyes to make sure he still isn’t dreaming. 

“Ohh!! It’s you!! My brother’s girl friend!!” Yuji exclaimed, a smile on his face.

“Good morning Yuji,” you reply. “Although, I wouldn’t say girl-friend.” you add nervously while taking a sip of the water.

Yuji, having completely moved on from the topic, asked, “Why are you here in the morning? Aren’t you supposed to be at your house?” 

You took a second to conteplate how to explain to a 9 year old how badly drunk you got last night that his older brother needed to pick you up.

“Uhh, Choso did me a really good favor and picked me up from a place when I couldn’t drive.” you lie, convincing the nine year old. 

“Oh, okay.” Yuji said, accepting the explaination and going on about his morning. You sigh and drink from the glass again. You saw on the couch your phone, wallet, and other neccesities. You walked over to collect them, assuming Choso just put your things on the couch for you.

He’s so nice, you think to yourself, thankful for the little extra he always does for everybody.

As you sit on the couch scrolling through your messages and drinking water at the same time, Choso comes out of his room and sees you already up. 

“Hey, sleep well?” Choso asked when he saw you sitting on the couch. He was still nervous on how to correctly approach you after last night, so he decided he’ll just play it off as nothing and be “nonchalant” about it. 

“Yup!” you replied, smiling. Your brows furrowed a little, still battling the headache.  “Thanks for driving me back too, Cho. Really really appreciate it.” 

“Eh, it was nothing, no big deal,” Choso replied, still being cautious on what he said. He looked at your slightly pained expression, and he thinks that you remembered what happened last night. Oh god- Would it be awkward just talking now? 

“So..uhh..” Choso mumbled. “Are you feeling better now?”

You thought he was mentioning how drunk you were, but he was really trying to ask you about the scene last night. 

“Yeah, I’m feeling a lot better now, I just have a huge headache though,” you sighed.

That wasn’t what I meant. He thought. As in your mood. But he didn’t want to bring it up- what if he was bringing back bad memories? He didn’t want to do that to you. Choso decided it would be worth it to just not mention last night at all and will only elaborate if you brought it up.

But you never did bring it up, being convinced to eat breakfast with him and Yuji.

The whole time, he was scanning your face and expressions to see if you had really forgotten or some part of you still hurt, but you were just hiding it.

Why would you need to hide it in front of me though? Choso thought. 

As you ate a simple breakfast- Toast with butter, you were a little lost in thought, trying to piece together a timeline. Weirdly, you feel like you’ve forgotten something that should be mentioned sometime around… someone… you just couldn’t figure out who.

First, that guy did break up with you. Piece of shit, really. Were you over it? A little, now. Better than yesterday, at least, when you decided just to drink it all away at a bar. Then, you have a vague recollection of texting someone, which you found out to be Choso this morning, and then passing out. 

Sitting there, thinking to yourself, you didn’t notice the person across from you staring at a face he found pretty for a long time. Choso thought you were playing it off as trying not to be a bother- and he was trying to form a plan to talk about it with you a little more. Hesitantly, he tries to start a conversation about the topic.

“Um… about last night…” he murmured unsurely. He looks down, to the side, at your plate, the fork you’re holding, anything but your face. You tilt your head sideways to signify that you’re listening. In your head, you were freaking out a little bit. Did you do something wrong? Did you do something embarrasing? How bad was it that he needed to confront to you about it?

You spoke up before he coud continue. “Oh- oh my god. If it’s anything I did, then I’m so so sorry for it!” you said, sitting up a little straighter.

Choso was lost. He looked at your genuinely clueless expression to confirm is theory.

You had genuinely forgot.

Alarmed by his sudden silence, you tried to clarify once more. “Really! I don’t remember a single thing! What did I do?” you exclaimed, honestly defending yourself. You put your hands up in the air as a gesture of surrender.

Choso, having snapped out from his momentary shock, tried to clear the air again. “Relax, you didn’t do anything…I’m just surprised you forgot, that’s all.” he said. 

He knew you didn’t believe his explaination, but you didn’t question further, which was all he needed to sit down and think about how to approach this. 

Still feeling ashamed, you quickly ate your breakfast and left his apartment in an attempt to avoid staying too long. Before you finish chewing, you get up and say, in a muffled tone, that you're going home. Then you go to the couch and gather your belongings. When you mutter "sorry" to him and Yuji, Choso nods in response and hands you your jacket. You closed the front door after putting on your shoes and shouting "Bye," your cheeks still flushed from the awkwardness.

Choso was still standing in the doorway, surprised on how fast you left. He should say sorry for embarrasing you, he thought. He felt a small nudge on his leg. He looked down as Yuji looked up at Choso and bluntly said, “She’s pretty. Why is she not your girl friend?” in little brother astonishment. Choso’s face reddended as he picked up Yuji and mubmled “That’s enough bro, thanks for your input.” Yuji giggled on Choso’s shoulder, kicking his legs and smiling. He smiled back. All he ever loved was you and Yuji. He wasn’t sure how, but he’ll get through with you one day. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Two weeks later, you had found another date to look forward to, getting over the last one pretty quickly, even if it hurt more than the others. This time, it was someone who looked promising. His name was Toji- someone who you met at online. You were a bit wary of him though, since he seemed like the type to abandon his own son and sell him to a clan who wants to kill him, but you weren’t too sure. That was what first dates were for, to learn more about them, right? 

It was 5pm, and you were starting to get ready to go to the bar where you guys planned to meet up. You hummed to your favorite song playing on a speaker nearby as you did your makeup, feeling just a bit nervous about the upcoming date. Generally, people online didn’t live up to much of your standards. As you were dabbing on blush, the doorbell rang. Curiously, you weren’t expecting anyone here at this time. Putting your brush down, you speed-walked to the door, yelling “Coming!” and looking through the peephole.

To your surprise, you saw an eye staring right back at you.

You inhaled a sharp breath before yanking your eye away from the hole and taking a step back from the door. Until you heard a familiar voice.

“Yuji, stop peeking in from that side. It won’t work,” said Choso.

“But I wanted to see if she was there yet!” Yuji’s voice whined.

Breathing a sigh of relief that it was just Choso and his brother, you unlocked and opened the door, being met with Yuji’s beaming smile and Choso right there with him. 

“Gosh, Yuji! You scared me with your eye!” you said. “Why are you here at my apartment anyway?” 

Choso sighed. “Because-”

“Because the skibidi toilet live stream is happening right now!! And it said to bring a friend for double aura points!!” Yuji continued, eyes sparkling.

You blinked at him once. Twice. Aura points? What’s that? You look up to Choso, silently asking him if what Yuji said was what is actually happening, and Choso just gave it a short nod.

“Umm… sure… You can-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Yuji rushed in, laughing. He quickly turned on the TV and navigated Youtube to pull up the livestream.

You turn your attention back to Choso. He coughs a little in his hand, then explains that that livestream told everyone to bring a friend, and Yuji insisted on going to your home to watch the livestream with him. 

You felt happy that Yuji chose you to be his friend watching with him, but then again, you had to go in around thirty minutes. You looked back at Yuji and then back to Choso.

“Um, I don’t think I’ll be able to stay and watch the whole livestream, Choso. I’m really sorry…” you said, a pit forming in your stomach.

Choso gave you a pointed look. “Another date?” he asked. You nod slowly, feeling regret that you couldn’t stay.

Choso was silent for a few seconds. 

He can stop you now, he thought. Now was a good opportunity to stop you from ruining yourself all over again. He just needed a place where you and him could talk about it without Yuji overhearing. 

Opening his mouth, he says nervously, “Hey, can we talk somewhere?”

Curious, you followed him into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you, and asked, “So what’s up?” 

Choso stood in front of the closed door and took a deep breath.

“Don’t go on that date.”

Immediately, your reaction was a quick “Huh?”. You registered what he said- you just didn’t believe it. 

Choso paused again. “I’m serious, y/n. Don’t go on that date.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer for a second. He had his hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. His position didn’t come off as someone who was sure about what he was going to say, which made you question him even more.

“Why Choso? Do you… know this guy or anything?” you say, unsurely . “Or do you have magic powers and can tell the future?” you joke with a light smile, trying to ease the tension. 

He stayed silent for another second. “Just…don’t,” he reiterated, making you even more confused.

“Why? Should I be worried or anything?” 

Seeing him this unsure made you panic a little. You didn’t understand why he was being so secretive. Or maybe he was waiting for you to figure out the reason yourself?

“Is it because of him? Does he have a bad rep or anything I didn’t hear of?”

“No, I don’t know him. I just don’t want you to go.”

Huh? So what was his reason on why he doesn’t want you to go? Wait, was he saying that he doesn’t want you to go on the date, or he doesn’t want you to go in general, what did he mean?

“Oh, is it because of Yuji’s skibidi thing? Is that why you want me to stay?”

Choso could feel this conversation is going in the wrong direction. He needed to speak his mind- but how? 

“No, no it isn’t about that either… It’s…”

His sudden pause makes you fidgety. What did he have to tell you that was so important? You checked your phone for the time- 5:36. You needed to be going in almost ten minutes, and you still haven’t finished your makeup.

You don’t want to interupt Choso on what he wants to tell you- but what does he need to say that has to take this long for him to think about it?

“It’s what?”

He sighed. Maybe he should just tell his truth and go in blind. He saw you check your phone for the time, he knew you were getting a little impatient. He needed to be quick.

“Look, y/n. I don’t want you to go because… you need to give yourself time to heal before you move on.”

He did it. He said the words. You would have to get it now. By the end of this, you’ll get it. Maybe he’ll finally be able to stop you.

His words stunned you a bit. Heal? Move on? You already did, right? Why was he so concerned over this now? 

“What do you mean by that?” you ask. Truthfully- you knew exactly what he meant, you just needed to confirm it.

Choso hesitates. How is this the best way to put it?

“That last breakup you had, it was really rough, even for you. You know… when you called me to pick you up from the bar, and when you slept over… you sorta…” Choso sucked his teeth in. He wasn’t sure if he should be telling you this, while you were living in blissful ignorance. 

Your mind jumped to a horrible conclusion. If you had forgotten about the whole thing, of course he would feel uncomfortable with you going to meet with another person. 

“I what? Oh my god, Choso, did I do anything? I’m so, so, so sorry if you were uncomfortable, I-”

“No! No, don’t get the wrong idea.”

You breathed a sigh of relief. At least that didn’t happen.

Choso goes on. “It was nothing like that. Um, last time, you came to me really, really upset because of that breakup.”

You thought about his words. It should ring a bell, right? How could you forget about something like that? 

What did you even say though? You had completely forgot about the thing. No recollection at all.

“Choso, I think I completely forgot about that.”

He looks up at you. “I know you did. But I really think it should be unhealthy for you to move on so quickly.”

His words echo in your head. Honestly, they had a truth to it. 

On the second hand, why was he being so protective now?

“Choso, I think I get where you’re coming from, but I still need to go, you know.” You checked the time on your phone again. 5:38. You really, really had to be hurrying up now.

Yuji’s voice called from the living room. “Are you going to watch with me?”

Choso looked back at the door. He didn’t want to leave his little brother hanging, but he didn’t want to leave you again. 

You decided for him.

“I’m sorry Choso, I really am. How about I go on this date and see? Then we’ll talk about it more?”

You were definitely trying your best to compromise, get rid of the conversation, and get out as fast as you can, but Choso had other plans. 

“No,” he said affirmatively. “You need to stay in and let yourself rest.”

Your impatience was really getting a hold of you now. Why was he so insistent? Why couldn’t he just let you go? Was it really a big deal? 

Does he need to do this now? Right now? 

“Choso, I’m fine. Let me go.”

“No.”

“Let me go.”

“No.”

You clench your fists a little. You really shouldn’t be wasting time like this. 

“Choso, please. Why are you being so stingy about this? Since when did you start caring?”

“Since you texted me drunk and sobbed into my shoulder!”

The room was silent for a second. Did you really do that?

“I thought, after that, I would try to make and effort to not let you get yourself depressed like that ever again,” he said.

You looked at Choso in the eyes. He was staring right back into you. It all made so much more sense now. You now knew why he was trying to stop you.

But you can’t just bail out like this.

“Choso, I appreciate it. I really do. But please, I need to go to this one. It’s too late to cancel now. I’ll look like a bitch doing so.”

He was about to lose you. He didn’t want to wait another time to stop you. He had you now, why give up? He needed to say something, anything. Anything to give as an excuse. 

“Y/n…”

“Choso, I actually-”

“Y/n. I don’t want you to go because I love you.”

.

.

.

What?

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

a/n

whats up guys?! welcome to the fic that i thought was a good idea then it wasn't.

hopefully i will finish this though.

why did it take so long?

deco*27 monitoring reference yuji itadori?

originally y/n was gonna blow tf up and be a whole bitch then it felt weird so i had to rewrite the entire last part

when the plot is swiss cheesing.

or am i just reading into this too much?

hello brain rot yuji i love you with all my heart

thank you for reading <3

dividers by @.enchanthings @.adornedwithlight

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taglist- open!

[vodika-vibes]

I hc that clone cadets read little to no fiction on Kamino -- mostly information on regulations, tactics and strategy, Galactic history and culture (heavily slanted in the Republic's favor), and other things they'll need to know as soldiers. Maybe some Goofus and Gallant-style stories written specifically for them, all about how being brave and obedient and a team player will bring you respect and glory. These stories are very didactic and bland, so very few clones develop the habit of reading for pleasure.

But when clones become dads, they resolve to start reading aloud to their children. They think it's going to be just another chore like changing diapers, only to realize that lots of kids' stories are fun. So then they get really into it, doing silly character voices and reading with enthusiasm. It's really easy for clones' kids to stall their bedtimes -- all they have to do is ask Dad for "just one more story."

Aw, that's adorable!

I can see it too.

And maybe dad goes to mom and asks for other books that the kids might like, but she knows it's code for, "are there books like this for people my age?" And then house gets filled with books of all types.

Well

All types of fiction, at least.

[kathelovecatsandfeminism]

He's Rick

warnings: rick grimes x reader; angst with happy end; smut; a little of spanking; pet names; rick needs a hug; mention of lori, carl and judith; p in v; unprotected sex; confession of feelings; fluff; heavy eye contact; no use of y/n; The spelling has not been fully revised and it is always good to remember that English is not my first language, so be nice. I think that's all.

Night had already fallen over Alexandria, but unlike sleeping on the road, here the darkness was not dangerous, the dim lights of the streetlamps dispelled the darkness, as did the lights from the windows of some houses. It didn't seem real, a place to really live, a house to take care of and a comfortable bed to sleep in, clean clothes, vegetable gardens for the kitchens and generators bringing the heat of the lights, it didn't seem real after so much death, so much human decay that had passed before your eyes.

It also seemed very ungrateful of you to be feeling so miserable while others celebrated the blessing of being able to “celebrate” the life that walls provide. You still didn’t know how you felt about it, “normality” was almost a stranger to you now. Your mother would have said “ungrateful girl.” You didn’t like to think about her. 

But the sadness was there, settled in your chest, painful and suffocating after so much crying, eyes red as the tip of your nose. That was why you were standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pretty dress — a gift from Deanna — you wouldn’t allow yourself to be seen like this. It’s funny how the most subtle thing can make us crumble. So why?

…..ah grimes, that was it wasn’t it?

It all started with an innocent conversation, because the devil is in the small details.

You were invited by Deanna for a short horse ride around the city, a bureaucratic conversation, you always knew how to sniff them out at your old job, at home. The group was causing problems, no….. no, Rick was causing problems and you were Rick's right-hand man, it was rational to turn to you, wasn't it?

But again no. For Deanna it was natural to turn to his woman, because is this what you were, obviously….. weren't you?

She must have noticed the moment when confusion turned to realization and ended in disappointment on your face, because she - very delicately - apologized for the assumption, it took a lot of strength in you to utter a simple "don't worry". The ride home was silent.

An observation took over your thoughts, between constant escapes, arguing and surviving today to fight tomorrow, you never had the privilege of being able to think about the meaning of your relationship with Rick, worse, you never wanted to actually face what you knew you felt for him. There are commanding words of priorities in your mind that developed to find a home here, somewhere along that path the two of you became inseparable, to the point that seeing one could have found the other too.

You knew him from before the zombies, your father was an officer of his officer, you saw each other a few times and talked even less, he seemed like a good man. But now looking back he was always there, he covered your back - even too much - and you did the same for him. He helped him with the children, maybe a little more than the others. It had been a while since Carl had asked you to comb his hair, even with your fingers, it had become a habit and you knew who he was pretending you were.

Judith was still a little thing who liked to sleep with you

Rick helped you with your younger sister - teenagers are worse in the apocalypse - she couldn't help but believe in the loss of her parents and sometimes she was filled with rage because you hadn't come back to look for them - but there was nothing to come back to - she screamed and pushed you like a child, in those moments it was Rick who calmed her down, you never knew how he did it. 

Not that everything was perfect, you fought too and badly, two stubborn people when they thought they were sure of something. It was Rick who made peace most of the time.

 No matter what happened, one would find the other like a magnet, he had promised you that when your world fell apart and only he was there to lift it up. It was in his arms that you slept on very cold nights. Having him seemed right, there was something there, something that until then you pretended not to see. 

But did you really have him?

Admitting to Deanna that you weren't hurt, it burned your skin and the wounded pride created a balloon in your throat that made it hard to breathe, you cried.

For some reason you felt so small and ashamed, you didn't have the courage to question him, what if he thought there was nothing to question? just a good friend and nothing more? Your head hurt, because everything was so confusing, you weren't ready to see him again.

It had been a week since the conversation with Deanna, a week since you gave a flimsy excuse to Rick and Carl, that Michonne needed you close. A week since you ran away like a coward. It was in her kitchen where you cried.

but he's Rick, he knows you

So it was no surprise when he appeared at your door - Michonne's door actually - breathless and blushing as if it had been hard for him to come here.

"hi"

"hi" came out almost silent

You both spent a few seconds standing in the doorway, his eyes were so warm - even if more tired than usual in contradiction to the new reality that out of habit or a second nature of yours, you moved away so he could enter, there was not a single day that you denied him from entering your life or your heart.

You walked towards the kitchen and in silence he followed you as he always did.

Rick in the dim yellow light of the kitchen looked more handsome than ever. He had gotten rid of all that beard, his hair was still wet and combed back, with curls at the ends indicating that he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore a white shirt that was tight on his biceps, a little short above the waistband of his pants, a worn blue wash, he always looked good in blue - he looked younger - and he wore those damn boots on his feet. 

He was still as handsome as the day he came back into your life, a certain warmth settled in your chest. 

However, as much as he looked good, he also looked defeated, shoulders slumped and red, tired eyes with a big crease above them. 

Like when you finally recognize that there is something in the corner of your eye and now it is no longer possible to ignore that space, after having looked at what you felt for him, you could not ignore the desire to be held by him, to kiss the newly discovered skin, to hug him tightly.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen, you turned around, putting some distance between you two. You expected him to break the silence and reject you right away, maybe that would be the “easy” solution, after that you could move on and pretend nothing had happened, but when he held your gaze with such tenderness and sadness at the same time, you quickly looked away, unable to accept anything from him, that was going to hurt. He took a step closer with his arm half raised as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated. The truth is that he knew why you were running away from him like a wounded deer. He had insisted enough with Deanna to get a half answer and then it was easy to put everything in place. 

There was this big elephant in the room of unsaid things, where to start? Rick wasn't proud that he had placed you in a limbo of uncertainty, the dynamic between you two was so domestic in contrast to the reality you lived in, like when he fell asleep in your arms while you brushed your hair with your fingers after a really, really bad day and he didn't feel worthy of you or how despite his distraught state, his eyes always softened when they met your face.

He wished he had told you how he had come to keep Lori's wedding ring - a bitter reminder of everything he had been through - in his pocket because your expression would turn sad whenever you played with it on his fingers. 

Oh, and Lori... 

He couldn't protect her, no matter how hard he tried, it wasn't enough in the end, and then came the nightmares in which he couldn't save you, he always became more distant after them. Irrationally loving you seemed to cast a dark shadow over you, putting you in danger, but moving on without you? It seemed to condemn him to wander with a big hole in his chest.

He spent so much time holding back, as if his mere touch would make you break.

Rick was a cowardly and stupid man, incapable of giving himself to you, fearing the day he would lose you.

A stupid and cowardly man... a coward... a coward, he was already losing you and worse, because you thought he didn't want you.

"I'm a coward" came out without realizing it, he had assumed that serious tone he used when he took control of a situation, the southern accent was stronger. He caught your attention, but your eyes continued to focus on a point behind him, always avoiding his eyes.

"What?"

Rick took another step closer.

"I'm a cowardly man who doesn't deserve you" confusion adorned your face in the dim light of the weak yellow light.

“Too cowardly to admit it…..damn it!” He ran his fingers through his hair, anxious.

Rick looked disconcerted, lost, it wasn’t normal to see him like this only when his shoulders were very tired and he inevitably ran to find some comfort in you.

Seconds of silence passed, as if he carefully considered his next words.

Then the moment passed and his shoulders straightened.

He slowly approached you while you backed away like a skittish animal, he stared so intently into your eyes that you felt completely exposed. The slow chase ended when your back hit the kitchen counter, cornered, the proximity, how intimate everything seemed, your mind spun in circles chanting his name. That was one of the problems, he took you out of your orbit.

both of his calloused hands went up your neck to cradle your face, so delicate, now the only distance between your bodies were the atoms of air. his touch almost burned your skin, even if you were reluctant you melted with the heat that emanated from his body.

it was no longer possible to escape from those blue eyes, noses brushing, mouths open and tense breathing “It’s a broken world and you’re the only thing that puts it back together” he continued to rest his forehead on yours “til my last breath, I am yours because I love you”

Shock took over your face, never in your most idyllic dreams would you imagine this scenario, so vulnerable because he loves you. Love is too strong a word to play with. Rick wasn’t the type to play with his word.

“you love me?” you asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer, then he started running his fingertips through your hair, over your face, saying a silent “beautiful” more to himself than to you “I think that’s what it’s called, isn’t it?” he looked at you curiously “I always come back to you, even if it’s crawling, but I come back. It’s your face that my eyes search for in a crowd, it’s your opinion that I seek before any decision, it’s your smile that makes all this mess worth it, it’s another reason to survive and when I see you with the children….. God, it’s like coming back to a home I didn’t know I had, it seems almost immoral to have this at the end of the world… I’m afraid the universe is waiting for me to take what I want just to take it from me, believe me, I couldn’t go on without you. So yes, I love you.”

You knew many things about Rick, how he likes his drink, about his grandfather in the war, about how to read his gestures, but mainly that he was a man with a good and kind heart and above all honest.

The light made your eyes bigger and brighter with the tears that were now flowing, which were becoming a sob and then a loud cry, but it was okay, he is Rick, he knows you, so smiling and sighing a “come here” he held you tight in his arms, wetting his shirt. Slowly he adorned the top of your head with kisses, reducing the crying, the tears gave way to a big smile. You pulled away so you could look into his eyes, which to your surprise were also teary, but he smiled broadly, both of you sharing a look.

 Silence fell in the room, but it was light and calm, of accomplices who had shared something very sacred. Rick took one of her hands and lifted it into the air as if preparing for a waltz. “In a perfect world, I would have told you this after a fancy dinner and taken you dancing.” You couldn’t help but smile, he was always an old-fashioned guy. 

“I like to dance.”

 “I know.” Using the hand that was in the air, he spun you around in his arms. 

“You always know.” It was like being a little girl again, cheeks burning and all. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, humming in agreement. 

“You should.”

In the blink of an eye, he had you in a very tender and deep kiss, as if he regretted all the kisses he had wanted to give you but couldn't. It didn't take long for him to become fiercer, hungrier, his hands were clenched in the back of his shirt, as if he was afraid the moment would evaporate like a dream.

Testing the waters, one of Rick's hands went down to your hip, gently, but giving it a light squeeze. You sighed, there was a hunger in you that was no longer possible to contain

"Take me to the room, please" you asked slyly

"Yes, ma'am" and as if you weighed nothing he picked you up and you wrapped yourself around his hips, sharing small kisses as you went up the stairs. Between kisses, you found yourselves unable to hold back your giggles, it was good.

Entering your room, he carefully laid you down on the bed and for a brief minute just kept looking at you as if he needed to convince himself that this was real, that something good and beautiful could be born in such a vile world. The moment was only broken when you extended your hand inviting him. Gratefully, he took off his white shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room and lay down between your legs.

 It was strange to be like this with him, but at the same time so familiar, as if it were right. You pulled him in for another hungry kiss with tongues, teeth and all, running your fingertips over the muscles of his back, pressing him against you. He moaned into your mouth, needing his hips against yours, eliciting a moan from you. 

He went down to your neck, distributing wet kisses to soothe the marks he was leaving - something intimate in him liked the idea of ​​claiming you publicly - going down to your collarbone and only stopping over the bust of your dress, searching your eyes in a silent request. He laughed at the intensity with which you nodded. 

He made sure to lower the straps very slowly, but it didn't take long for him to grab one of her breasts as soon as they were exposed. While he licked and sucked one, he played with the tip of the other with his fingers. When he was satisfied, he reversed the order.

By now you were a mess of moans and whimpers, rubbing against him in search of any friction. 

That day Rick discovered many things about you: first, you were loud - a pleasant surprise -; and second, you were sensitive as hell and he was going to take advantage of that.

He continued to move down your body, trailing chaste kisses along your clothed belly, nibbling on your dress, lingering on your lower abdomen while one of his hands lovingly brushed the skin on the inside of one of your thighs, almost reaching where you wanted, but pulling back just in time. He came back to my eye level "do you want to be good for me?" Oh, he wished he had a camera to capture your reaction, all blushing and goosebumps. Third thing - although he already suspected that.

No answer. Then the hand on your inner thigh went straight to your clothed center, taking you by surprise “baby, talk to me”

Your brain was already so far away and started to nod and only then remembered to answer “I want” clearly satisfied with the answer he got up from the bed, you almost protested against the loss of contact but when he pulled your legs to the edge of the bed and knelt between them, you already knew it was over

“this comes off” you lifted your hips so he could take off your panties “and this stays here for now” he bunched your dress at your waist.

You already knew you were very wet but when the cold air of the room hit you and Rick ate you with his eyes even more blush painted your skin.

 He brought his lips closer to your pussy, blowing only to see you squirm, smiling satisfied with the result. He looked at you with such hunger, you couldn't hold his gaze, but more knowing than you were his hand leaving a slap on your right thigh. When you turned your eyes to him it was clear on his face, pupils dilated in a stern look, jaw clenched, don't do that again. 

So you did... or tried to because when he gave a first slow and long lick between your folds by instinct your head fell back before you could come to, another slap, on your left thigh now. 

Damn bastard Rick Grimes

Leaning on your elbows, you looked at him again, trembling with desire as he sucked your clit with just the right amount of pressure. You were already high at this point because Rick would eat you out like a starving man. After a few more licks, two thick fingers poked your entrance, smearing themselves with your arousal and, to torture you, as a final blow, he inserted them while he curved them, hitting that exact spot - it was so different from yours, better, bigger and they were Rick's - and he went back to sucking on your spot. Thank God no one was home because you looked pathetic in his hands.

All you could think about was the pressure and the heat and the unfolding and growing in your belly, it was too much. Your back arched, your toes curled as you were a mess, reciting his name like a prayer

Rick…….Rick…….Rick

When his big hand reached for yours to hold while he pressed it against your hip to keep you in place while he intensified his actions until your peak reached you and you rode him fucking Rick's face

you came hard and loud, singing his name

he made sure to take every drop of you until overstimulation. When he got up from the floor, you could barely support yourself on your elbows to look at him. He licked his lips like after a good meal. Sucking his fingers and letting out a "sweet" he rested one of his knees on the bed and pulled you by the torso like a rag doll - very soft now - making you sit up "arms up" and he removed the dress over your head. He seemed so careful "good girl" he says and you couldn't help but tremble at those words, you wanted him inside you SO MUCH, so your hands flew to undo his belt and pants

"anxious?" oh that cheeky smile would kill you

“you have no idea”

“Ah….I can imagine, hon” he finished by giving a sweet kiss on the top of your head

When he stepped out of his pants and you were face to face with his red, veiny cock, already weeping with pre-cum. You wanted to feel the weight of it on your tongue - another time perhaps because you could swear you would start crying if you didn't feel him inside you soon.

You lay on your back in the center of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him. If you looked like the hot mess you felt, you would be lost.

He asked for your hand and you gave in. When he placed himself between your legs it was as if he belonged nowhere else than here, with you. He spent a minute hovering over your body, his eyes examining you, recording every detail, you were a very beautiful mess. He kissed you again, less hurriedly but equally hungry, his tongue playing knowingly with yours, biting your lips, pulling you towards him.

Anxiously, you tried to rub your hips against his - of course he noticed - he took your hand in his and placed it on his cock - you couldn't resist and applied some pressure, he shuddered.

With his hand on yours controlling the movement he brought the tip to your folds and played with them, making you squirm with anticipation, lubricating you well, threatening to enter. It was only after you called his name tearfully that he thought you had suffered enough, but Rick couldn't contain himself, he wanted to engrave this moment very well in his memory. You were all open on the bed for him, whimpering his name, you became very gentle in his hands, it was fascinating.

You had your heads together, staring at the spot that connected you when he finally entered you, both of you letting out a long sigh. He slowly went all the way in, until you felt his balls pressed against your ass - and god you could feel every bit of him, that stretch, filling you up just right - only for him to pull back almost all the way out and slam back into you harder. “look at me, baby” he called your attention.

Rick was an eye contact guy and you did your best to maintain it as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He built a steady, deep, passionate rhythm, hitting that spot that made your brain short out every time, your back arched, you wrapped your legs around his waist, skin to skin, hot, sweaty, your hips racing to meet his. You smiled victoriously when he buried his nose in your neck and started moaning in your ear, your knot was tightening.

The temperature of the room had increased, a mixture of sounds of skin slapping, your meaningless pleas in the cloud of pleasure, Rick who will now return to mark your neck to suppress his own moans.

“Rick….please….please” you didn’t know what you were asking for but he is Rick, he knows you. his face came out of hiding in your hair, he gave you a quick kiss on the lips and pushed your knees against your chest, the new angle would be the death of you and by Rick’s state his too whose thrusts began to become erratic. You were very close to the edge, on the border between pleasure and consciousness and when Rick began to make circles on your clit you took his mouth in yours suppressing a loud moan as you came, your vision going white. Rick came soon after by the way you were squeezing him as you came down from your high. He may have drawn blood from your lips when he bit your lip as he released long, thick loads of semen inside you draining you of every last drop. He remained inside you even after he softened, the state of euphoria preventing you from thinking about the consequences.

You both collapsed together, it was a comforting feeling to feel his weight against you, you felt safe.

When his attention turned to study your face again, he looked calm, relaxed, happy - something very hard to see - he had such loving eyes and they looked at you, he took his time like that, serious, focused. You would never know, but in that intimate moment he made a promise, he would not allow anything or anyone to hurt you, he would not allow it. He knew you could handle it, you had already proven yourself many times, but you were still the woman he loved and nothing else mattered

it was you who took him out of the sea of ​​their thoughts

“hey, rick”

“hm”

“I love you too”

“yeah?”

“yeah”

He smiled broadly, inverting the position of the two and brought the back of his hand to sprinkle kisses there, that tender gesture made you smile. Rick was yours.

.....................................................

Today had been a long day of work in the city, the kind where you pretend you didn't notice you were taking a little longer to shower. It was the first place you went after getting home, the murder house - your house - that fact still made you smile at nothing. Before going into the bathroom to shower, you passed Carl and a small blond head heading out, in a hurry but not enough.

"Should I worry, Carl?" Dusk was slowly falling outside.

"No, no, Carol's new recipe."

"Where's your dad?"

"Daryl," the boy shouted over his shoulder. You answered with a low "Okay," too tired to think about it now. Right after the door slammed.

Okay, you may have taken too long because when you came out of the bathroom there was a dress on the bed, the one Rick liked to take off. Half curious, half suspicious, you put it on and went downstairs to get something to eat. Most of the lights downstairs were off except for the ones in the kitchen. You walked there, only to find a very well-dressed Rick - a button-down shirt with the tops open and black jeans - dinner on the table and a humble flower in his hand. “Rick” you called affectionately, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face you were walking towards him but he stopped you in the middle of the way with a signal to stop, you don’t know exactly where he was hiding, but suddenly a melody started playing through the room, he came back shyly, took your hands in his, still holding the flower and you started dancing alone in the kitchen and you don’t remember feeling so loved because he's rick, he knows you

[torchwood-99]

Howdy! I’ve been re-reading a lot in the appendices lately and noticed that the first time Aragorn sees Arwen and falls head over heels immediately, she’s described as wearing a “mantle of silver and blue.” 🤔

When you went back through your recent deep dives on Arwen (forgive me, I think I read them all but sometimes my brain is a sieve!), did you come across that and have thoughts about what ol’ JRR might have been thinking in his use of the silver and blue mantle visual for the (eventual) wives of both Aragorn and Faramir? Or, if not, do you have any such thoughts now? Intentional and meant to convey specific meaning, or he just liked that color palette/image and it popped up again organically?

@from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras

My first thought is that they both wear silver and blue for the same reasons it feels like everyone in Tolkien has grey eyes. It's an aesthetic Tolkien likes.

On a more theological level, blue is a colour strongly associated with the Virgin Mary. Lord of the Rings is filled with biblical imagery and inspirations, and arguments have been made for quite a few of Tolkien's heroines being inspired by the Virgin Mary.

In Arwen's case, it's been argued she represents Mary the mother figure, and Mary who united the divine and immortal with the mortal, as Arwen does when she marries Aragorn.

In Eowyn's case, her slaying of the Fell Beast is reminiscent of the tradition of Mary being depicted of standing on a serpent's head in art, inspired by this quote, interpreted to be about Mary

I will put enmities between thee and the woman, and thy seed and her seed: she shall crush thy head, and thou shalt lie in wait for her heel. (Genesis 3:15)

in reference to Mary giving birth to Jesus, who then died for the sins of humanity. Mary giving birth to Jesus allowed for Satan to be overcome, and she reversed Eve's sin.

It's also been suggested that Eowyn's referring to herself as a shieldmaiden nods towards Mary referring to herself as a handmaiden

And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word. 

With Mary, the most popular colour combination is usually red and blue, instead of silver and blue (although in both cases it's blue worn over red, so the mantle remains fitting). But Varda/Elbereth, Queen of the Valar and creator of the stars, is the most beloved of the Valar by the elves, just as Mary is traditionally the most beloved saint, so the silver and the stars on Eowyn's mantle is perhaps a reference to Varda, and her own Marian imagery.

Thanks for the ask! It's a really interesting parallel I hadn't considered before.

Writing this post, it's interesting that Eowyn slaying the Fell Beast was an act of disobedience, whereas Mary agreeing to carry Jesus was an act of obedience to God. Some fans I think have really struggled with Eowyn achieving something objectively great through an act of disobedience, yet her great deed was a result of her disobedience.

Eowyn's act was an act of disobedience against Theoden, who doesn't take on a Godlike or Christlike role in the narrative. Eowyn also defied Aragorn's own orders, who told her to stay and that she had no business in the South, and Aragorn does have Christlike imagery, what with his healing abilities. However, Aragorn has to grow into his role as King of Men, and he proves himself as the true King of Gondor when he heals Eowyn and Faramir and Merry in the Houses of Healing. Aragorn says in the Houses of Healing that Eowyn's deeds put her on equal standing with the queens of old, so perhaps Aragorn's blinkeredness towards Eowyn earlier on is a sign that he has yet to reach his place as King of Men.

Gandalf, who is a Maiar or angel, is very empathetic towards Eowyn's circumstances. He's the only other character who speaks of the effect that sexism and being confined to the domestic sphere had on Eowyn. Even Aragorn focusses more on Eowyn's heartbreak over him rejecting her (although he acknowledges that was the straw that broke the camel's back). Gandalf is the one to put into words the cause of Eowyn's suffering.

Whereas Tolkien's personal and fictional writings suggest he had a conservative attitude towards the nature of women, it seems that he believed that most women were inherently domestic, not that they had to be, and if they weren't they were failures of womanhood. He expressed admiration for women who made achievements in science and literature, and described Eowyn as being a "brave woman capable of great military gallantry". So you get the idea that although Tolkien had conservative ideas about the abilities and nature of women in general, he did not oppose women who proved themselves to be the "exception". And in Eowyn's case, her exceptionality was foretold, prophesised by Glorfindel many, many years before she was born, just as Mary's was.

Ironically enough, Tolkien keeping most of the women firmly in the domestic sphere, resulting in them having a very small role the narrative, with only the "exceptional woman" being granted much focus, resulted in Eowyn being the singular female character who receives a on-page, active role in the narrative, the singular female character who joins the heroes and grows and develops. A consequence of this is that she shoulders almost all the female representation within the narrative.

Arwen and Galdriel are significant characters, but most of their actions take place off page, with their on page presence revolving mostly around facilitating the actions of the male heroes (although Galadriel does get up to her own cool stuff away from the main narrative, but that story we don't get to follow.) Arwen and Galadriel are also divine beings, ancient elves, the most beautiful, the fairest, both of them visions of perfection, and mostly static. (At least, in the main narrative. Arwen shows more flaws and nuances in the appendices, and Galadriel we know went on a whole journey before becoming Lady of Lothlorien.)

In contrast, Eowyn, human, mortal, messy Eowyn, is flawed. She has struggles and weaknesses and lessons to learn. This makes her the most "human" woman in the narrative, for reasons that go beyond her race. In being the most complex, flawed and dynamic female character of the book, the "exceptional woman" inadvertently becomes the "every woman".

And I've gone on a bit of a tangent, but I had a lot of fun doing it.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Pages from trying to keep a little sketchbook-scrapbook type thing going for two weeks lol. I gave myself specific rules in hopes they might all end up more cohesive/consistent seeming, but alas, scribbly chaos reigns, it seems

[transmasc-rose]

Amy/Rory I Saw the TV Glow au:

Amy as Maddy/Tara, who ran away and never came home, who talks about things that can't be real (the TV show, the TARDIS, a world where they're strong, a world where they're something better).

Rory as Owen/Isabel, meek and yet loyal and yet terrified of his best friend and what she means. And what she says. And what she shows him.

Doctor Who, the TARDIS, the Doctor, all wrapped up into the role of the Pink Opaque, the TV show from their youth, and something Amy grasps onto and never let's go. Something Rory abandons for a normal life.

And yet.

[emometalhead]

.

[robinsgrl]

rafe with a weird and clingy girl pt. 2 y’all i have a lot of these you don’t even know how weird of a gf i can be.

weird girl masterlist

main masterlist

it’s not just cute aggression. although that is a main factor. you need to be touching him at aalllll times. like all the time.

you’re both in bed, the night a cold one for the outer banks. he’s on his side of the bed reading a lame book that you can’t care for. and despite being under the same blanket as him, he feels warmer.

you place your cold hands on his abs and he lets out a tiny yelp and shoves you away. “god, why are you so cold?”

“as my boyfriend it’s your job to warm me up!”

“no way, then i quit”

you put your hands back on him and despite how he tenses from the cold, he doesn’t push you away again. this gives you to the idea to trail your hand down and put them in his shorts.

“what the hell are you doing?”

“that’s the warmest part of you”

“what?”

“it’s like when i put my hands in my bra cause it’s really warm”

“you put your hands in your bra?”

“shut up, you put your hands in my bra all the time”

“to cop a feel not to get warm”

“don’t move my hands!” because he’s trying to get your hands out of his shorts

“baby, you cant grip on me because you want to warm up”

“okay then pretend im coping a feel!”

“get off of me weirdo!” he laughs, attention now on you as you practically wrestle

you like to slap his ass. it’s hard not to. he’s so tantalizing. even when he isn’t trying. you go to the gym with him once and he’s lifting weights as you drool behind him. up and down. up and down. You let out a wolf whistle as you watch him and he tries and hold back his smile.

���just like that” you coo

“you sound like a pervert”

“im a pervert for you”

“that’s not as romantic as you think it is”

“what would you do if i squished a cheek right now?”

this alarms him and he drops the weights, giving you a scolding look. “you can’t squish a guys cheek while he’s lifting”

“im not going to.” you scoff, rolling your eyes at him. you were definitely going to.

he gives you a careful side eye, making sure you’re on your best behavior. a few minutes later and he’s back at his task. you sit, bored, still just watching him. you sigh loudly as you get up off the machine you were sitting on. “you’re boring. im leaving”

“wait for me, angel, im almost—“

you giggle and run away as you send a smack to his ass, “sorry! i had to!”

“jesus, you’re an animal!” he calls out after you.

you don’t even stop at family events. cameron events are usually stuffy. you hate them. but you do what you can for rafe. it’s the end of the awkward dinner and you two are washing dishes. “surprised you didn’t make the help do this”

“we gave him the day off”

“spoiled brat” you tease him as he rinses a dish under the water. you finish drying off the plate and put it in the cabinet, eyes trailing over him. his ass looks good in his dress pants.

with a hop to your step, you stand behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. “what are you up to?”

you scoff, “can’t a girl hug her man?”

“you’re hugging me like a broke boyfriend. you only do that when you’re up to something”

“would it surprise you if i said im trying to cop a feel?”

“nothing about you surprises me anymore”

“so you won’t be mad?”

“i’ll be pissed.”

“too late” you bring your hands behind him and give his ass a squeeze. he tenses at this, pushing himself forward to get away from you.

“you’re perverted!”

“you have cake! i can’t help it!”

“cake? god, you gross me out”

“stop running away!”

he’s threatening you with a wet hand towel but you dodge him as you keep chasing after him. dinners at this house are always the worst but not as the two of you run around the kitchen, laughter filling the air.

“uh, what’s happening?” wheezie’s voice cuts the two of you off.

rafe’s got you draped on his shoulder, your hands on his ass from the upside down angle you’re in. you both pause. “we’re touching butts.”

“jesus, baby, don’t tell my sister that”

[chaoticwriting]

New Gotham Rouge

Okay, in Danny's defense, it sounds like a very good idea when he thought about it. Danny is currently laying on top of the clocktower looking at the smog filled sky. A few stars can be seen occasionally while he is staring and thinking about his decision.

When Danny is outed as Phantom. He ran away as his parents tried to capture and cut him open. He hid in a nearby cave for a few days as he thought of what to do when he suddenly had a brilliant idea. Let's fake his own death!

Danny stole a few parts and materials around Amity Park and made a makeshift bomb and rushed towards the GIW base. He freed all the ghosts and made a cinematic scene of exploding himself thus taking the whole building with him.

Danny also sends the ghost to set up a few bombs in his house after making sure Jazz, Sam and Tucker are not there. Just as he 'exploded' himself, the house also exploded destroying the portal and all the remaining research paper about anything ghost related.

Danny dove into the ground as the explosion distracted everyone and chose one direction to fly towards. A few hours later, he found himself in Gotham and surprisingly there is a lot of ambient ectoplasm in Gotham. He flies around invisible while looking for a place to stay and he lands on the clocktower to rest after flying for so long.

Now, Danny doesn't know what he should do because he realizes one key component in staying alive for him. Obsession. Contrary to popular belief (Sam), his obsession is not protection. It is love. Love as in any act of love will fulfill his obsession. Him protecting his town is an act of love towards his town people. Him loving and studying space is an act of love towards himself. Him not taking revenge against his family and people that wrong him is an act of love towards humanity.

So, long story short, he needs to find a way to fulfill his obsession. He is laying on top of the clocktower and suddenly a very good idea comes into his mind.

A few weeks later

-Batcave-

Dick: Are you still searching for the glitter thief?

Tim: Yes. And it's driving me insane how little clue there is of this thief. I even tried asking Selina and even she is impressed by this thief's MO.

Steph: Are you sure you need to be stressing about this thief? It's probably a group of kids stealing glitters just because they can.

Tim: Are you telling me a group of kids can do a heist better than Selina? And this thief or group of thieves for some reason only stole biodegradable paint and glitters from all across the city without us finding where they store them? There must be something I am missing.

Suddenly, an alert appears at the batcomputer and catches everyone's attention. A live broadcast is showing Joker standing in front of a switch as Commissioner Gordon hanging from a rope on top of a pool of acid. Every single batfam suits up and rushes into Gotham to find the Joker before anything can happen.

Joker: Hahahaha. Good evening Gotham and Bats! Today, I have a dear friend of yours playing my game. In front of me is a switch to activate a time bomb that will explode a whole district if not dismantled. You have 20 minutes to dismantle the bomb and with every minute that passes, I will slowly lower the Commissioner into the pool of acid.

Joker then walks slowly towards the switch and flips it.

Joker: Your time starts now! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

Batman and the crew rushes towards Gotham as they turn Gotham upside down for the bomb. 5 minutes passed and they become desperate enough that they even roped in some of the rogues like Penguin, Harley, Ivy and Croc. But no matter what they do, they can't find the bomb.

Just as the last minute passes, everyone expects a big explosion engulfing Gotham. Except there is no sound at all. In fact, it is eerily quiet. Everyone turns on Joker live broadcast to see even the man is confused. He turns around and sees Gordon having his feet inside the pool of acid like nothing is happening.

Suddenly a giggle appears. Everyone that hears the giggles starts to get goosebumps as suddenly, a kid with a half clown facemask at the bottom of his face, a green leather jacket, black jeans and white hair appears behind Joker. His hands are holding his stomach as his giggles turn into laughter that is eerily similar to Joker.

???:Hello everyone. I am Trickster. And I am here to crash the party.

Everyone: ????

Trickster: Hehehe, it's so funny to see everyone's confused expression. But no worries I am here to have fun. See, I even have your toys with me.

The Trickster phases his hand into his body and pulls out a very familiar brick. He throws it to Joker and the Joker runs away screaming and trips on his feet falling down the stairs.

The Trickster: Hahahahaha. Do you see his face? Hahaha. Oh boy, I should have recorded this. Hey this is a live stream right? Someone clip that. Anyway, I have defused the bomb. And the acid isn't actually acid. It's just colored water with a light beam at the bottom. I still can't believe he doesn't check the acid pool first.

The Trickster then goes towards Gordon and pulls him down from the rope. After Gordon touches the ground, he unties him and pats Gordon's shoulder.

Trickster: Well I guess this is good enough for the apology.

Gordon: Apology?

Trickster: *Rubbing his neck* Yeah, about that. I was the one that glitter bombed your office last week. I mistook your office for another corrupt policeman and accidentally placed it on your desk. I am also technically the cause of you getting caught today. In my defense, you shouldn't startle me like that.

Gordon: Wait, you're the kid that punched me.

Trickster: I'm not a kid. I'm 16. Plenty old if you ask me. Whatever, here is your phone. Go call Batman to pick you up. I want to go back to sleep after having fun tonight. Adios.

Gordon: Wait-

Trickster then disappears into thin air like he is never there in the first place. If not for his phone in his hand and later confirmation from everyone that watched the live stream, Gordon might have admitted himself into Arkham.

That is merely the start of the many incidents involving Gotham's newest rogue the Trickster.

Part 2

[fastandcarlos]

"Will You Be My Dad?" : ̗̀➛ Lewis Hamilton

summary: where your daughter wants lewis to take on a new role in her life

“Come on, time for bed,” you smiled, scooping your daughter up off of the ground. 

Amelia let go of a groan as she stood to her feet, looking across at you with a pout. You’d already let her stay up much later than you usually did, treating her seeing as Lewis had come around to visit, knowing how much she loved spending time with him. Lewis couldn’t help but smile as she huffed, calling out to you, begging for a few more minutes with the two of you. 

It still felt like a dream for you sometimes as you glanced at Lewis, watching as he picked up some of Amelia’s toys and placed them back into her toy box. She was never too far away from him, practically glued to his side whenever he spent any time with you both. 

Ever since you and Lewis had started dating, Amelia had relished in it. She was only young when you started dating, she didn’t really know life without Lewis in it, all she knew was that although he loved you, he wasn’t the man that she called dad, despite being the one to raise her. 

As Amelia continued to groan, Lewis quickly stepped in. He scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom, throwing her down onto her bed as she giggled away to himself. 

No matter what the situation, whenever you were struggling Lewis was there to step in. He saw Amelia as his own, he treated her as if she was. She was a part of the deal when it came to dating you, but rather than be an inconvenience, she was the greatest addition which made dating you even sweeter. 

“Are you staying here tonight?” Amelia whispered across to Lewis. 

“I think so,” he smiled, looking back to you to check. “That means I’ll be right here when you wake up in the morning, maybe we could eat breakfast together.” 

Her smile turned up as you nodded in agreement with Lewis. “Will you cook for us? You always cook us the best breakfast Lewis.” 

“I can do that,” he assured her, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Although I can’t promise that my cooking will be as good as mummy’s dinner was that she made tonight.” 

You slowly stepped towards the bed, perching down on the end of it. “Lewis can only stay if you promise to get some sleep, we can’t have a tired girl at the breakfast table tomorrow morning.” 

Amelia nodded as she sat herself up and cuddled into Lewis’ side. His arm immediately moved around her frame, pressing several kisses against the top of her head. Your smile was wide as you watched the two of them, wondering once again how you ever got so lucky with the two of them. 

“Maybe soon we can live so that we don’t have to have sleepovers,” Lewis spoke, taking you by surprise. “I’ve got a couple weeks off soon, and I was wondering about asking you and mummy what you thought about maybe coming to live in my house instead.” 

“In your house?” Your daughter, grinned, spinning out of his hold so that she was face to face with Lewis. “Would we stay in your house forever?” She quizzed, bouncing up and down as Lewis’ head nodded, his eyes glancing across at the surprise in your expression. 

It was a conversation that you’d never really had, and never expected to have so soon either, but Lewis’ mind was made up and he knew exactly what he wanted. 

He couldn’t imagine life without the two of you, he hated the feeling of returning home to an empty house. The feeling didn’t compare to the feeling he got when he walked through your front door, immediately showered with love and greeted by his two favourite people, filled with excitement. 

“You’d be able to come up with lots of plans and make your room exactly how you want it.” 

“With a big bed?” She grinned, “and loads of teddies in the room too?” 

Lewis nodded, wanting to give Amelia anything she wanted and more. He spoilt her rotten, one of the perks of not being her parent, even if it did leave him in trouble with you time after time. 

“Are you excited about us coming to live with you Lewis?” She asked him. 

“More so than you could ever imagine,” he whispered, reaching across and taking a hold of your hand. “You two have changed my life, I love being around the two of you, annoying your mummy and tickling you until you’re begging me to stop, that’s my favourite thing to do in the world.” 

Both of you wore wide smiles as Lewis spoke openly, letting you know exactly how big of a role you both had in his life. The sentiment didn’t quite mean as much to Amelia as it did you, your heart was full as he spoke, whilst she still daydreamed about the new, amazing bedroom she’d been promised. 

“If we live together, would we be a proper family? Like mum, dad, and me?” 

Neither you or Lewis knew what to say, looking at each other. Your heart raced, terrified as Lewis stared blankly across at you, not quite believing what he had heard from her either. 

“You do everything that a dad does,” Amelia spoke up, feeling the need to explain herself a little more. “You take care of me, and mummy. You take me to school, help me fix my toys when they break, give me cuddles when I’m having a nightmare.” 

“That’s because I love you sweetheart,” Lewis smiled across at her. 

“I know,” she smiled, “do you think...maybe...will you be my dad?” 

You were nervous for a moment, but luckily the corners of Lewis’ mouth soon turned up. He squeezed Amelia even tighter, scooping her up and sitting her in his lap, scattering a trail of kisses from the top of her head, down and all over her face. 

“I would love to be your dad, if that’s what you want,” he whispered. 

Her head nodded, pressing her palms together. “You’re the best daddy in the world,” she told him, already full of confidence that no one could do a better job than Lewis. 

“Sorry,” you whispered across to Lewis as you met his eyes, Amelia cuddling closer into his chest, “I had no idea she was going to ask you that, I’m sorry if you feel a little put on the spot.” 

“It’s alright, in fact, it’s better than alright,” Lewis quickly assured you, “it would be the biggest honour of my life, it makes us more of a family, doesn’t it?” 

You nodded in agreement as Lewis laid Amelia back down in bed again. “Did you mean what you said about moving in? You really want us to live with you? It’s not something you can just change your mind about.” 

“I’ve never been more confident about anything,” Lewis smiled, “I don’t want to have to sit around and wait to see you guys anymore, I want to see you every day.” 

You stretched across and pressed a kiss against Lewis’ cheek, “thank you for completing our family, I don’t know what we’d do without you.” 

“You’re an amazing mum, with or without me,” Lewis smiled. 

“And you’re an amazing dad too.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn’t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[motomamita]

bestfriend!könig × female!reader

warnings: +18, smut, emotional manipulation, sex!

imagine being the only person who showed up to könig's birthday party.

it was just you and him, in his house, with a lot of drinks and food that he himself had bought to celebrate. the sound of the clock on the ceiling seemed to stun you and he remained dejected, with a half-drunk can of beer.

you knew that könig had invited more people, people who had pretended to be his friends throughout the semester to humiliate him on such an important day for him. you could see on his face how much he regretted having trusted them, and at the same time how grateful he was that at least you, his best friend, had shown up.

"come on kö, don't feel bad. we can have fun just the same, just us!"

apparently you were naive enough not to notice how weird könig was in general. he hardly talked to anyone, and when he did, he would make comments that were out of place and a bit offensive to others. but you couldn't blame him no matter how hard you tried and ignored your friends' warnings about him.

"what a shitty birthday.."

he murmured as you lit the candles on his birthday cake that you had baked especially for him.

"don't say that, come on, make a wish."

you moved his cake closer to him, letting the candlelight illuminate his masculine, scarred face and cold gaze.

"i don't think my wish will ever come true."

"what? tell me, maybe i can help you!"

upon hearing you, könig did not hesitate to tell you: he wanted to lose his damn virginity with you.

you hesitated for a few seconds, not sure what you had just heard. his eyes filled with tears that he didn’t try to hide and he looked into your eyes begging you to help him make his wish come true. what else could you do? his day was already disappointing enough without you leaving him alone with a huge erection in his pants. you had to help him.

in a matter of seconds you were lying on the table, your skirt pulled up to your waist and könig on top of you fucking you clumsily. his cock entered you roughly and without rhythm, in a very inexperienced way. some strands of his hair fell on your face and his eyes never stopped looking at you.

"you're the best friend any man could wish to have... your pussy feels so good."

könig clumsily grabbed your breasts over your clothes and pinched your nipples. you moaned in pain but didn't try to run away or push him away, you wanted his birthday to end well.

it only took a couple of deep, slow thrusts for könig to end up inside you, moaning your name and kissing your mouth and face. you hugged him by the shoulders, pulling him towards you and letting him sob with pleasure on your neck.

"this is the best birthday of my entire life."

[letorip]

crimson & clover

“now i don't hardly know her, but i think i could love her"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x mute!reader

summary: people fear that which they do not understand. it makes sense then, why you and wednesday fall in love and help each other

warnings: erm you killed a lot of people on accident, angsty in the middle there, threats of violence, descriptions of violence

word count: 5.1k

A/N: heavily inspired by black bolt, who i really do think is one of my favourite heroes. there will likely be a part 2 or 3 to this but for rn my attention is on kiss with a fist. THERE WILL ALSO BE A PART [IV] OF SOMETHIN' STUPID

KISS WITH A FIST [IV] WILL BE UP NEXT SUNDAY

===+++===

===+++===

There were certain things you couldn’t have, when one had the ability to do incredible damage, if they just opened their mouth.

When you did so, on a random Saturday morning at 10 years old, and your house burst apart, it took your parents and a chunk of the neighbourhood with it in a fiery tempest that stabbed you right through the heart. You learned then, that maybe you weren't meant to have a family.

At age 12, when the kids at the Home for Outcast Children strung you up from the monkey bars by your ankles, and you couldn’t hold in a laugh from how the world looked funny when the sky looked like the floor, you learned you weren’t meant to have friends, sitting silently in the dirty crater where the playground used to be with your head tucked into your knees.

You had thought it would be implied then, that you would never have a lover, either. But then again, there was Wednesday Addams.

It was still a mystery, why she chose you. You had assumed she would want nothing to do with you just like she didn’t want anything to do with most people, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The both of you met about a week after she arrived at Nevermore, in the dead of night on one of the walks you always took when everyone else had gone to bed and there was no one to watch you, no one to murmur as you went past. You didn't pose a danger to anyone, then, and it was liberating and also deeply melancholic.

That was when you were most at peace. Your thoughts, even though well-reasoned, could not be expressed. You wrote often, in a leather-bound notebook you’d let no one see, but the power was given to writing through reading it, and there was no one you could have close enough to do so. It made you tired, to be around people you couldn’t communicate with. Few people wanted to wait for you to write something out on a notebook and even fewer wanted to learn sign language.

Kinbott had a dry-erase whiteboard in her office that was just meant for you and the only deaf person in Jericho, though the old man had gone missing a few months ago, without a trace. It was humiliating, at first, and you used to write two-word sentences, curt responses doing the bare minimum, often out of anger— whether it was anger from your situation or anger at being a teenager, you didn’t know— but now you could fill it with paragraphs and kept a notebook for when communication was especially necessary.

That night itself was peaceful, with gentle, twinkling stars that were only lightly polluted by the quad’s towering lamps. You could still see their faint outlines above you, with casting shadows down the lawn from the roof’s spires, and it smelled as if it were going to rain soon.

When you heard the scuttling of something on the floor, you jumped, startled, eyes shooting down to where you were certain you had felt someone’s fingers grip at your leg. Your eyes widened in surprise at the disembodied hand, racing up the uneven cobblestones and then up the leg of someone at the far end of the quad, landing finally on her shoulder.

Wednesday with her arms crossed, looking at you with a comically large bag slung over her shoulder that must've contained all of her belongings, like a runaway in the night.

Oh. That's what she was.

You blankly stared back at her, blinking at her figure. She took a menacing step forward, her grip on the bag tightening. "Are you following me?" she asked, tone icy. When you kept looking at her without so much as opening your mouth, her apathetic eyes narrowed. "If you tell anyone you saw me, they will never find your body. Don't say a word."

It was intended to be a threat, and if it had been anyone else, it probably would've made their blood run ice over just from how cold her gaze was. But you just raised your eyebrows at her, unable to stop the amusement from tugging at the corners of your lips. The irony was very far from lost on you, and the more serious she seemed the more funny the blunder was.

"What?" she snipped. "Is something amusing to you?"

Again, you could not say. You silently shook your head, tilting it then out of curiosity, and gently pointing towards the hand on her shoulder. It sat up at your attention, sending a friendly wave in your direction. Your eyes widened, waving before Wednesday could clear her throat and pull your eyes back up to hers.

Her eyes in question were dark and intense, but beautiful, even under the dim lighting, and you had to swallow what felt like a lump in your throat, in order to regain your composure. "Why are you silent?" she asked, narrowing them at you. You were under her microscope, and she scanned you, looking for anything that would impair your immediate voice.

You raised up a hand as if to say ‘hold on,’ before tugging your notebook out from your overcoat, flipping it open and pulling out your pen. With a click, you were scribbling down on the paper, and Wednesday narrowed her eyes at you again, scanning you in suspicion.

When you were done, you flipped it around, holding it up to her eyes with a gentle smile. 'Trust me, I don't think you'll need to worry about me telling anyone anything, anytime soon.'

Her eyes combed over the words, then glanced back down to you. "Why is—" she opened her mouth out of curiosity, but a heavy door slammed shut down the hall, and she whipped around before she could finish the question.

You both could hear the footsteps coming closer, and Wednesday straightened up, grip tightening on the bag over her shoulder. "You didn't see me, and you won't ever again," she said, coldly.

You nodded, not that you believed she'd make it out. You yourself had tried to run away for the first month and a half, and after long enough, one just gave up. Nevermore was hard to escape; you doubted she had readied a good enough plan in just a few days of being there. Still, you wished her luck. The forest was dangerous, and especially now.

With a final nod in your direction, she hastily walked off, down the corridor the opposite way. You watched her go, calmly sitting near the fountain. A few moments after she disappeared down a different hallway, a very tired looking Weems came down the stairs in her nightgown, holding onto a rusted lantern.

When she saw you, she sighed. "What did I say about those nighttime walks of yours, (Y/n)?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side and shrugging at her. Weems huffed at your attempt at cluelessness, shaking her head fondly. "Just make sure you get yourself to bed soon, alright?"

You nodded, leaning back on the fountain edge and tracing the grout lines with your thumbs. Weems turned back to the hallway Wednesday went down. "I guess Miss Addams is planning to escape tonight?" But you didn't write anything down, raising your eyebrows at her as if to say 'duh.' Weems adjusted the hem of her nightgown from where it had dragged gently on the steps. "Thank you, (Y/n). I'll see you tomorrow."

She began to follow down the path Wednesday had taken, letting the lantern lead her through the dim corridor, and you silently yawned, picking up your notebook and figuring you had enough adventure for the night.

===+++===

That was your first unofficial meeting, at least. You almost forgot it had happened the following morning, except for when Wednesday showed up in class the next day looking more displeased and unhappy to be there than normal.

It was amusing how frustrated she was, mouth drawn into an annoyed line and eyes looking especially dark. When she caught your eye as she went to take her seat, you averted your gaze back down to your notebook to hide your cheeky smile, resuming your doodle in the margin and running a nervous hand through your hair.

She kept staring throughout the lecture, as if silently daring you to mention her failure, not that you could aloud. You weren’t willing to look back, but you could see her dark eyes shift up and across the round of tables towards you from the corner of your eye, which you made sure to keep on Thornhill.

After long enough, Xavier noticed too. He whispered something to her and then glanced up at you with a look that was far from friendly. He hadn't liked you one bit, but neither did any of the other kids, when they found out. You couldn't exactly blame them, either. The school was full of monsters, but you were a monster among monsters.

"Wednesday, Xavier," Thornhill called out, crossing her arms. She wasn't angry, though. More playful. "Is something more important than our study of carnivorous plants?"

Xavier began to shake his head, starting an apology, but Wednesday cut him off, blankly staring back at Thornhill as it left her mouth. "Yes."

At the challenge, the whole class seemed to let out a comically loud gasp. Thornhill's previously teasing smile dropped to a displeased frown, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her overalls, motioning to the large glass enclosure on the table behind her. "I don't suppose you can tell me what this is, then?" At the question, you can see Bianca smirk and raise her own hand, eager to steal it away, "I haven't said the name out loud yet, and it will be on your test next—"

"—Dendrophylax lindenii." The interruption came swift from her lips, but Wednesday's eyes are still steeled over and unimpressed by Thornhill's attempt to be put on the spot.

You have to hide your amusement again, at the shocked look on Bianca's face, but she rushes to make up for it by adding something of her own. "It's also known as the Ghost Orchid—”

"—First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1852," Wednesday adds, and once more she's won. Or, she would have. You can't help the shake your head does, or the cheeky smile on your face that Wednesday locks onto, like a heatseeking missile. Her eyes are like daggers, stabbing you through and through. "Is something funny?"

She says it across the entire classroom and everyone goes silent, less focused on the plants now and more the fact that she's acknowledging your presence. You shrug, trying to diffuse the situation, but it only makes her glare at you harder. "No, go on," Wednesday demands, her tone just as icy as she had been the night before. "Tell us, what was so funny?"

"Wednesday," Thornhill warns her, sending you a sympathetic look, but she ignores her and so do you.

"Or are you still at a loss for words," she draws out, and in doing so, the rest of the class fills with 'ooh's and 'woah's. You stare at her for a moment, then silently, your hand goes to your notebook.

The moment you begin writing in it, the classroom tenses again, waiting for you to finish. You make them as big as possible, large enough that she'll be able to clearly read them across the room. When you're done, you flip it around and hold it up like a sign, face blank.

discovered 1854, not 1852

idiot.

You've circled it several times in messy pen, to make sure she really sees. The room roars even louder in surprise, and however bad Wednesday's stare was before, the new one she gives you is infinitely worse. Her face is still deadpan, but her eyes flick away down to her notebook. It’s the only time you’ve seen her approach something resembling embarrassment or fury. You're sure the 'idiot' bit didn't help, but you were far too annoyed by her poking of you to not have poked her right back.

"Well...," Thornhill tries, "It seems the Ghost Orchid isn't the only carnivorous plant in here, today." But the class is too far gone to focus up again, sending you wary glances. They don't like Wednesday, but they like you even less, so it's confusing who they should root for.

You hold her gaze until the bell rings, finally breaking it to gather your things and leave as soon as possible. Her eyes are still on you as you go, and just before you exit the room, you can hear someone mutter "freak," under their breath. You tuck your books under your arm, and duck out into the hall.

===+++===

Fall was always your favourite time of year; for once, Jericho wasn't entirely unbearable. The leaves turned a warm orange and red, falling from the trees in abundant piles on the ground, and the air fermented into something crisp and especially breathable. You let it fill your nose as much as possible.

You sat on the lawn, listening to the birds flit about and the wind brush under the branches and hem of your jumper with a book in your lap and a frown on your face. It wasn't a good book- something the internet had said was incredible but had firmly left a bad taste in your mouth, and part of you wanted to put it down and turn to something more useful. But another part of you wanted to keep reading, like being unable to look away from a car accident.

The book was so engrossing in its awfulness that you didn't notice her watching you from afar or, more so, aiming in your direction. That was, until you turned the page, and her throwing knife whizzed past your ear and lodged itself into the tree you had been sitting against.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the noise, and you turned your head to the side, looking at the shiny, reflective silver. The letters W. A. stared back at you, engraved just below the knife's spine. You frowned, and when you looked back, she was standing over you, arms crossed and expression as deadpan as always.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, looking over at the knife and then back to her as if saying, 'What was that for?'

"Your attention was required," she replied dryly.

You rolled your eyes, dog-eared the page of your book, and placed it down next to you, pulling out your notebook and your pen. You wrote a single word.

dangerous.

"Believe me, if I wanted to hit you, I am entirely capable of aiming to kill," Wednesday said. Then, after a brief look around Nevermore's green, her eyes flicked back down to you. "I'm here on business."

You search her face for a moment, narrowing your eyes. They locked in on the small bandage on her forehead, and you nodded up at it, asking her what happened with the look on your face. Her frown deepened.

"I'm in the process of crushing a bee... and almost getting crushed by a gargoyle." You blinked, but Wednesday continued. "But I won't have to do either if you agree to my request."

It's hard to deny that her words massively pique your interest. Wednesday in general massively piques your interest, and you write down the thing you really want to know.

people say you eat human flesh...

You turn the page back to her, and Wednesday seems to process the words for a moment. She looks over at you, unimpressed by the allegation. "I don't eat it. My menagerie of pets do. And even then, that's nothing close to what Enid's said about you."

You stare up at her, then scribble a couple of words on the paper.

and what's that?

"That you're dangerous. That you’re somehow infinitely worse than I am, which I'm doubtful of," Wednesday says without missing a beat. "Enid won't say anything more, and neither will Xavier." She looks around again, over the green. There's a picnic of sirens by the lake, and a few of the werewolves are playing with a frisbee. She looks back at you. "I've been warned to stay away, and your propensity for being obnoxious has made that task fairly easy so far." You begin to write again.

so why are you here

"Because," she states like it's obvious, "I want to break out of here. And you're somehow the person to have gotten the closest."

and yet

i'm still here

You turn the page to her and jab the bottom bit several times with your pointer finger.

"Well then," she says, "help me succeed."

===+++===

“And how do you think that made you feel?” Kinbott asks, eyeing her various pages of notes to the left of you. Some of the other patients in Kinbott’s care had small, yellow folders, but you had a larger red one, with your name in highlighted block letters on the front. It looked like it should’ve had a top secret sticker in the corner, not that you weren’t appreciative about your records being sealed.

You erased the board, writing a single word.

seen

Then, underneath it.

idk, like i was really there?

Kinbott nodded. “You’ve said people often ignore you a lot. Why do you think that is?”

they’re scared. they think i’ll hurt them because they heard rumours about what i did.

i can’t blame them, really

She frowned, wrapping her hands around her knee. “But that’s not really fair, is it? When was the last time you’ve caused damage with your ability, (Y/n)?”

You shrug, thinking for a moment.

about four years

“And you haven’t made any sort of mistakes, right?”

well, no

“Then why should they be afraid of you?” Kinbott asks. She’s leaning forward, looking at you with her eyes softened. “You’ve trained yourself to silently yawn, you don’t cough, you don’t sneeze, you don’t snore. I think you need to trust yourself a little more, (Y/n).”

You shrug again, but don’t write anything down, so Kinbott sighs and sits back in her chair. “Principal Weems says that she has another little Harry Houdini on her hands?”

You write down Wednesday on your board. She nods. “I’m seeing her in a little while, actually.” It makes your eyebrows raise in surprise.

why?

Kinbott shakes her head. “You know I can’t share that. Therapy is private. It seems she doesn’t plan on staying, though. Wednesday has already tried to escape.”

i know.

she asked me to help her

Her eyes scan over the words and then look back up to you, warily. “You know better than to help her, right? Nevermore could be good for Wednesday. And I thought you were actually starting to like it here.”

You nod.

i already said no

it’s too dangerous, in the woods right now. with the attacks and stuff.

“Good. And please, tell Principal Weems if you learn of any plans in the future.” You nod again, much less committed, and Kinbott looks down at her watch. “I’m afraid our time is over, (Y/n),” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

You write a quick thank you down and stand, shoving your socks back into your shoes and tugging on your jumper, tucking it underneath the collar of your shirt and fixing your Nevermore tie. Purple stripes was never your pattern, and Weems had long since given up on trying to make you wear the coat. She figured it probably made you less likely to run away.

Wednesday is sitting in the lobby when you get down the stairs, with a bored-looking Weems come to babysit. You send her a glance, and then give Weems a nod of your head in acknowledgment.

She beams back at you. “Ah, (Y/n). We’re here for Miss Addams’ session. If you want to wander around Jericho, we can take you back to the school when we're done, if you’d like.”

You send another look at Wednesday, whose face is just as deadpan and unhappy as before, and shake your head. You point at yourself and then mime walking with your two fingers. Principal Weems frowns, but gives you and okay, and you turn around to leave.

You can feel Wednesday’s eyes on you as you head for the school. You know she's annoyed by your refusal to help her, but you can't exactly tell her why you're refusing either, especially since you're lacking any evidence for your theory. So you just told her no.

===+++===

Even from deep inside the forest, you can hear the carnival. There's a Ferris wheel towering over the trees in front of you, and circus music blasts from a few speakers so that you can faintly hear it amongst the windy branches, leaves blowing along the ground and caressing your shoes from time to time as you walk through the dark.

You're looking for something, anything, indicating someone would've been there. Sheriff Galpin had found all sorts of hikers, recently, all almost unidentifiable, with how bloodied they were, but they had yet to find anyone with a hearing aid, so you were unsatisfied. It was believed he was on vacation, but you knew the old man went to his therapy appointments every single week. He hadn't missed a single day, so you failed to believe that theory. You didn't even know his name, really.

On a tree not too far from you, there was a claw mark sunk deep into the bark, and you looked towards it, at the pattern. The idea a bear was responsible for all the deaths wasn't exactly convincing, and looking at the claws, your doubts only amplified. You pulled out your camera, aiming it towards the mark, ready to snap a shot, when you heard footsteps pounding past you.

"Rowan!" called a voice behind you, and you froze, putting the camera down and flicking your flashlight off. The last thing you needed was word getting out that you were lurking in the woods. People thought you were scary enough.

But the words weren't directed at you. You listened intently, and then you heard the faint but panicked voice again. "Rowan," Wednesday says again, and the moment you realise it's her voice, you take off running towards it.

You find Rowan with his hand held up, crushing Wednesday against a tree, and before you can stop to think, you're rushing forward, shoving him in the back and pushing him into the dirt, where he struggles to catch his breath. The moment his hand splays out in front of him, Wednesday is dropped to the forest floor. You run to her, checking her over quickly for injuries, making sure she can run. When you find none, you grab her arm, hoisting her to her feet. You send a wary look over at Rowan, who's already trying to right himself and take Wednesday's hand in yours, pulling her deeper into the forest.

It isn't long before you hear him calling out. "Wednesday!" he yells, and you freeze, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her behind a tree. You push her flush against the bark and cover her mouth with your hand, getting as close as possible so that you hide better against the trunk. She seems too scared to comment on the touch, eyes wide and chest heaving from the running. You raise your other hand and press your finger to your lips.

"Wednesday, I'm doing Nevermore a favour," he tries again. "One massive favour. You're dangerous. My mother's seen it. I can see it. Anyone who knows you can see it."

Your eyes flicker to Wednesday's in confusion, processing his words. She's staring up at you, eyes dark and full of worry, begging for him not to find you. Any idea you had about her not getting scared goes out the window. She's just as human as you are. You send her a comforting nod, peeking around the tree trunk. Rowan's a few trees away, with his back turned, scouring the area.

You begin to back away from Wednesday, gesturing over your shoulder. If you both can sneak off and go back to the carnival without Rowan noticing, you can ensure safety. She gives a curt nod, letting you take her hand in yours again. You're faster than her, she knows that. You slowly pull her with you, quietly stepping away and towards the fair.

You only make it a few steps, until Wednesday steps on a branch.

The small twig cracks under her boot, and within an instant, Rowan whips his head around to you both, staring back at him like a pair of deer in headlights. He takes a few menacing steps forward. "There you are," he draws out in between wheezy breaths. His hand comes up, ready to crush her, but before he can use his ability, a large, hulking creature grabs him by the leg, whipping him around and down onto the ground.

You and Wednesday watch in horror as Rowan screams, and the creature rears up on its hind legs, coming down and smashing Rowan with its fists. You can hear the crunching of his bones and then the tearing of flesh as the creature's claws dig into the boy's skin. Wednesday's hand is still in yours, and she squeezes it harshly, small black fingernails digging into the back of your hand, pulling you down to the ground with her and then scooting back.

The attack is short but brutal, and you see bits of Rowan's chest go flying and pure red maw. The creature whips around to you when Rowan goes silent, staring at Wednesday with intensity in its big eyes. Then it scrambles off, tearing through the woods and into the darkness.

As soon as it's gone, Wednesday rushes forward in the leaves, going to Rowan's side. You clamber to your feet, watching the direction the creature went with wide eyes. When you turn back to Wednesday, you catch her shoving something in her pocket. You don't ask what it is, but you make a mental note to ask later.

"Please," she says, a bit panicked. Her fingers are coated in Rowan's blood. "Go get Weems."

===+++===

Another not-too-awful thing about Nevermore was the breakfast. You sat at an abandoned picnic table in the corner of the quad, finishing your eggs, when Wednesday slammed her hands down on the wood with a loud thunk. You jumped in your seat, startled by the noise, dropping your egg back onto your plate.

"What exactly did you see last night?" she demanded, glaring.

Your eyes widened at her tone. It was harsher than normal, and she wore her frustration on her sleeve. A few students at nearby tables sent you suspicious and wary glances. Over Wednesday's shoulder, you could see her roommate, Enid, staring at you.

Most important was Weems, who looked down at you from the balcony above. You composed yourself and looked back down to Wednesday, shrugging nonchalantly, as if to say you didn't know.

Wednesday gritted her teeth harder. "But you do know. We saw Rowan get eviscerated by that creature. You were there. So why did you tell Weems you didn't see anything?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head at her, doubling down. This was no place to get into it. No place to tell the truth. You slid your notebook towards her.

i saw him this morning.

She huffed, stomping off. You knew exactly why you saw him that morning, actually. Weems had shown you her powers a time or two, and you knew that 'Rowan' was just her in disguise. But you also didn't know if it was something you wanted to share yet. You, too, had been a bit miffed at seeing Weems pretend to be Rowan, but you also knew Weems' powers gave her an advantage, and you were too loyal to take that away from her. You owed her too much.

The question of why still rang in your mind, though. Why was she so eager to cover it up? She had never at least lied to you, so this lie seemed out of left field.

You saw the fake Rowan several times throughout the day. Each time you did your best to let Weems know you knew, and she seemed wary of you, avoiding you at every intersection. You spent the night thinking, wandering around Nevermore, stopping in the library and pulling out several books.

Wednesday had shoved something in her pocket, something that Rowan had. Something about her dooming Nevermore, about being dangerous. You raked through all the books about prophecies, not finding anything of interest and giving up at around one in the morning. No books were missing a piece of paper, and no books mentioned Wednesday's name. You could find a few references to someone named Goody, but she seemed unimportant among the other Addams ancestors, having been dead for hundreds of years. You made another mental bookmark to look more into it, later.

You trudged back to your dorm, already regretting your choices, considering you had an 8 am class in the morning. The school was peaceful again, and as you climbed the stairs, you could hear the trickle of the fountain.

But the moment your shoe placed itself upon the landing, you froze. Your door hung open slightly, just cracked, and right in the way was the same hand you had seen on your first night. You straightened up, feeling more awake, and more annoyed, now.

You pushed your own door open, knocking loudly on the wood like it wasn't your own room, illustrating your frustration. Wednesday turned towards you, unimpressed. She had your journal in her hands, the other one not meant for your communication but for your theories.

It was open to the photo you had just taken, of the claw mark. Right above it you had put the photo of the deaf old man, and right on the photo of the claw mark, you had 'Rowan' written in red sharpie and underlined several times.

You crossed your arms, glowering at her. The hand scuttled towards her, stopping halfway. "So you were hiding something," Wednesday says. "You know that Rowan isn't Rowan. You know he's dead."

You silently swallow, crossing the room until you are right in front of her. Wednesday's eye contact is intense, and you look down at your own notebook, feeling her watching you as you take it from her hands. You can feel her breath fanning against your face, and she smells like pomegranate and fresh petrichor. You turn the page to the drawing you've made of the creature. It's a little off; some of the details are fuzzy regarding last night. But it's the creature as best as you can remember it, and Wednesday nods.

"That's what I saw, too. That's what I want to find," she says. "That's what you're going to help me find."

This time, you can't find it in yourself to refuse.

===+++===

this was the first episode and a bit of episode 2. i really liked doing the mute reader but boy is it hard to write communication without dialogue. it does so much heavy lifting for characterisation. can't wait to see where this one goes, and it'll probably take me two or three parts to get through the whole season, is my hope.