#that I used to save your life and give you the freedom to finish what you started)

[p2ii]

this was so embarrassing for both of them I can't gwt over it

[etherealkissed88]

★ the whole point of law of assumption is that you already have it ★

imagine that you manifested that desire a week or a month ago. whenever you think about that desire, you would go straight into the happy or calm state / assumption that it's yours already...because it is yours already.

lets say i want $500k right now. i would be planning which stores i want to go to and which clothes i want to buy. i would feel happy asf and i would feel that feeling of already having $500k. i dont care how or when it will manifest bc i already know its mine now. i would feel fulfilled with this already manifested desire which is now my reality.

"why is it that your reality already if it isnt in the 3d?"

reality = imagination. therefore if i imagine something and accept it as true, it is my reality no matter what the copy machine 3d shows me. whatever happens in imagination is what is really happening. imagination is my identity. i identify as the girl who has $500k. the 3d's job is only to copy and paste who i am in imagination (the real reality) so, imagination is the source/the reality. why would i care about it being in the 3d if i know by law that it will reflect? i would rather feel fulfilled as the source than wait for a copy machine to show me, god, what i desire. i would rather give it to myself.

if i already manifested that $500k a week ago, i would automatically be excited asf thinking about all the shit i already bought w that $$$ and thinking about what im going to buy. i would prob imagine going to the store and feeling that feeling of financial freedom. i would feel the happiness of looking at something in the store and immediately putting it in my cart with no issues bc I ALREADY MANIFESTED MY $500k

"feeling?"

feeling = knowing you have your desire

i would use whatever technique i want (visualization, affirming, scripting, etc). lets say i choose visualization: i would visualize walking to the store and feeling/knowing that i have all this money to spend. feeling doesnt mean emotions even though its fine that i naturally feel happy bc i know i have all this money. its also okay if i dont have any emotions or if i feel calm bc since i already have it, its normal to me to have $500k. do not force emotions. feeling does not equal emotions. i would then accept that visualization as true. i would decide/accept i have that $500k bc i just experienced the proof in the real reality, imagination. i would remind myself that whatever i assume/accept as true in imagination is reality, no matter whatever circumstances i see in the 3d.

"you got robbed of a huge sum of money. was that bad or good? well, let me ask you this: did it change the fact that your nature is being wealthy? no, it didnt. your identity, your I AM, is set in stone. its only your thoughts and your interpretation of your emotions and of the circumstances around you that distracts you from your Truth. whether you have millions in your bank account or literally 0 in savings, you ARE rich. you ARE wealthy. numbers do not define you. life does not define you."

i accepted that i have $500k already = i identify as the girl who has $500k. this is why the 3d never matters bc no matter what happens, i will always be the one who has it in imagination. "deny the senses" mean i shouldnt care about what the 3d shows me since imagination is the only reality. if my bank account shows me $0.50 instead of $500k, will i be sad and thinking that it didnt work? ofc not, i wouldnt give a fuck bc i still identify as the girl who already has $500k.

this is why knowing and fulfillment are important. i know i have $500k, i am fulfilled with that fact. whats important is the knowing: i know i have this desire because i just imagined it and imagination is the only true reality so imagining = experiencing.

"how do i know if im fulfilled?"

youve accepted the fact that its already yours. you dont care about the 3d and you dont get discouraged by it bc its already yours in imagination. you are not "trying" to get something that you already have. you naturally think thoughts/have beliefs that match with your state of having it.

to be fulfilled i simply decide i have it or visualize again for fun. since i already identified as the one who has $500k, any thoughts, doubts, circumstances that pass will not get any attention from me. i simply dont identify with them. i go back into imagination and remind myself of my real identity.

this is what law of assumption is: ASSUME YOU ALREADY HAVE IT! CREATION IS FINISHED. YOU ARE ALREADY IN BARBADOS. assume = accept something as final without [3d] proof. the only thing i should be accepting as final is having it in imagination.

if you already have it, how would you feel, what would you do, what would you think, what type of person would you identify as? visualize/affirm/script/etc. the point is that you already have it.

ASSUME IT AND ITS DONE. WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT THAT FULFILLED DESIRE, KNOW IT ALREADY HAPPENED. YOU ARE IMAGINING/AFFIRMING TO REMIND YOU THAT IT BEEN HAPPENED! THATS YOUR CURRENT REALITY! NOT THE 3D.

its not "going to happen". the moment u imagined it/decided it/accepted it as true, it ALREADY HAPPENED. thats part of understanding that imagination is the only true reality. imagination is so limitless: you do anything, anywhere, instantly.

there should not be any "when is it going to happen?" since you just experienced it...thinking like that means you arent fulfilled. simply fulfill yourself again bc returning to the state aka making it natural for you is how it shows up in the 3d, its not about how long youve stayed in the state.

make imagination your dream world by giving yourself exactly what you want. know thats the truth, identify as the one in imagiantion who has it (the real reality/the real you) and ignore/dont accept anything that tells you otherwise. stay true to imagination.

@etherealkissed88

[deliciousangelfestival]

bucky barned x depressed reader?!!!!!! ☕️🍪

Of course dear. This request is a perfect match for this continuation. I hope you like it.

Only The Lonely - Rain and Umbrella

Summary: After being saved by Bucky and freed from the debt collectors, you finally managed to get a job with normal working hours. You thought you’d lost your late-night train buddy, but Bucky still visits your place whenever he can.

Everything seemed fine—until you ran into someone from your past. Suddenly, all the feelings you had been holding back came flooding out.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Genre: Romance, Action, Comedy, Slice Of Life

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

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By the way I publish my book Arrogant Ex Husband in Kindle. 👉 Now available on e-Kindle Amazon! << here's the link.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“Giving what you can, even when you don’t have much, makes you the richest person,” your grandfather would always say. On his birthday, instead of celebrating, he spent the day handing out free food to the homeless. It was his way of teaching you that kindness ripples back in unexpected ways.

That lesson became your compass, even when life pushed you into the shadows. For three long years, you had been hiding—avoiding the gang that chased you, ducking into smaller, quieter corners of existence. Yet, even when you struggled, you gave. Like the day you paid for a mother’s milk at the store with the last of your cash, and somehow, you landed a cashier job at a car workshop that very evening.

And now, giving extra food—a small, unthinking act of kindness—had saved your life. Who would have thought your train buddy was capable of something like this?

After Bucky untied you from the ropes, you stumbled forward, your muscles sore and stiff. His strong hands caught your arm and steadied you without a word. The cold air outside the warehouse hit you hard, but you welcomed it—it was freedom. Around you, the gang members lay crumpled—some groaning, others fainted in various awkward positions.

You turned to Bucky, your breath visible in the freezing air. “How… how can I repay this?” you stammered, still processing everything.

Bucky looked around at the chaos, then back at you, expression unreadable. “You’ve already paid me.”

“What?” you whispered, confused.

He raised a gloved hand and pointed. “Monkey bread—for him,” he said, nodding toward a man sprawled against a crate.

Your eyes widened.

“Beef Wellington,” he continued, motioning to another unconscious man slumped against the hood of a car.

“And Fish and Chips—for him,” Bucky finished, nodding toward a guy dangling limply from a chain.

You blinked, processing his words. Then it hit you—your cooking. That’s what this was about. “Wait… you mean the meals I gave you at the shelter?” you asked incredulously.

Bucky didn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of amusement passed through his blue eyes.

The surreal realization was too much; you let out a soft, shaky laugh, half disbelieving. “So… that’s what you were doing when the lights went out?”

Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, he shrugged off his leather jacket and draped it over your shoulders. You flinched at the weight of it, stunned at the unexpected warmth—both from the jacket and from him.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly, his voice as gentle as the night air.

Since that night, something shifted between you and Bucky. The quiet man who barely spoke a word became a constant presence in your life. You didn’t know how he’d taken down the gang—single-handedly, no less—but he had ended the nightmare that stole your freedom.

Days passed, and slowly, you found pieces of your old life returning. The hotel manager—the one you used to gossip about with Bucky—tracked you down one afternoon. When he saw you, his expression softened, his tone low and warm.

“Life’s been hard on you,” he said, a quiet statement that felt like a hand on your shoulder.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight as you struggled to hold back tears.

He offered you a lifeline: “I have a friend who owns a small café. They’re looking for a barista. I know you’re good with coffee—you’re overqualified, honestly.”

Your breath hitched. A job. A normal job. No more vampire hours. No more hiding.

You smiled weakly, trying to speak past the lump in your throat. “Thank you,” you whispered, barely audible.

But relief came with a bittersweet edge. A job with regular hours—9 a.m. to 4 p.m.—meant no more morning train rides with Bucky. Those quiet, unspoken moments had become a comfort, and losing them stung more than you expected.

When Bucky heard you suggest a visit to your café, he didn’t hesitate. “I’ll stop by after I wake up.”

You paused, curiosity tugging at you. “Wait... what time do you usually sleep?”

“Sleep?” Bucky’s voice trailed off, his expression unreadable. Silence followed as he stared off at nothing. For him, sleep wasn’t a comfort. Resting for three long months in a coma had left its mark—it was enough sleep for a lifetime. Being idle, trapped in a body that couldn’t move, was unbearable. The thought of sleep brought back those suffocating memories, and he avoided it whenever he could.

Instead, Bucky spent his nights on late trains. The rhythmic clatter of wheels on tracks calmed him in a way nothing else did. The hum of motion, the gentle swaying, the faint, distant sound of announcements—it was constant, predictable, alive. Trains were his solace. There, in the quiet hum of machinery, Bucky didn’t feel alone.

“Well, aside from that,” you said, snapping him from his thoughts. “Visit my café, and I’ll give you the best sandwich you’ve ever had.” You paused, then remembered his preference. “Oh—come around 2 or 3 p.m. It’s quieter then. Fewer people.”

Bucky nodded, his usual silent agreement. “Alright.”

Since that day, Bucky stopped by your café whenever he could. Most weeks, he visited twice. Your co-workers noticed him immediately, his tall figure and striking demeanor impossible to miss. But none dared to approach him. Bucky had an aura—one that screamed, “Don’t talk to me.”

It had been a few months now, and the rainy season had settled in. One afternoon, the skies opened up. Rain pounded against the café windows, blurring the view outside. Bucky walked in, his clothes slightly damp, as if he’d miscalculated the storm. After finishing his sandwich, he stood to leave, glancing out at the relentless downpour.

“Wait!” You grabbed the bright yellow umbrella sitting near the counter and held it out to him.

Bucky frowned. “Do you have another color?”

You shook your head. “No. Take it.”

He stared at the umbrella, reluctant, almost as if offended by the bright hue. But after a moment, he sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly. He took it.

“Bye!” you called as he left, your voice light with amusement.

☕☕☕☕

The next day started like any other. The café was warm and bustling as you worked behind the counter. The hum of the espresso machine, the hiss of steamed milk, and the soft murmur of conversations filled the air. You greeted customers with a smile, moved quickly between orders, and wiped down counters when the rush slowed.

Then you heard your name—spoken softly, yet somehow sharp enough to pierce through the noise.

You looked up, and your stomach dropped. Toby.

Your ex-boyfriend stood there. His face betrayed his shock. “It’s… wow. How? I don’t even know what to say. You’re… you’re here?”

Clearing your throat, you straightened, forcing calm into your voice. “I’m fine. Everything’s been taken care of. What do you want to order?”

Toby blinked, regaining focus. “Just… a regular hot Americano, please.”

“One hot Americano,” you repeated, turning to the machine. He followed your movements, lingering on the other side of the counter.

“You look good,” he said suddenly. His voice was soft, genuine. “I’m glad you’re okay now.”

You glanced at him, just for a moment. And then you saw it. The silver ring glinting on his left hand—fourth finger.

Before you could react, a deafening crack of thunder shook the café. Everyone flinched, covering their ears instinctively. Even Toby winced.

“That’s loud,” he muttered, forcing a smile. “I’m glad I brought an umbrella—just in case.”

“Yes,” you replied stiffly, handing him his coffee. “It’s always smart to prepare for the rain.”

Toby paused, his eyes lingering on you longer than they should have. “It’s good to see you,” he said softly. “And knowing you’re okay… it means a lot.”

You nodded slowly, your throat tight. “Goodbye, Toby.”

He left, the café door swinging shut behind him, the bell jangling softly.

The moment he was gone, everything around you felt distant, unreal. You went numb. Your hands moved on their own—wiping counters, refilling the sugar dispenser—but it was like your body was acting without you.

“I need to step out for a bit,” you mumbled to your coworker.

“Under this heavy rain? Are you serious?” she called, but you didn’t hear her. You were already out the door.

The rain hit you instantly, cold and heavy, soaking through your clothes in seconds. You squinted through the downpour, but you could still see him—Toby—his figure fading as he walked farther away.

Your feet hesitated at first, uncertainty freezing you in place. Should you follow him? But then he turned a corner, disappearing from sight, and something inside you broke.

You ran.

The rain blurred everything—your vision, your surroundings—but you didn’t stop. Water sloshed into your shoes, weighing you down, but you pushed forward. Your heart pounded, a warning deep in your chest. And then you saw him again.

He walked into a small gift shop. You slowed, panting, your chest heaving. Through the rain-slicked windows, you saw her—a woman—walking up to Toby with a smile. She leaned in and kissed his cheek.

CRACK. Another thunderclap shook the sky, louder this time. It felt like the thunder was mocking you.

☕☕☕☕

Back at the café, Bucky stepped inside, shaking water from the yellow umbrella you’d given him. His eyes swept the room quickly. “Where is she?” he asked your coworker.

“She went out. Said she needed to chase something. She didn’t take an umbrella or a jacket.”

Bucky didn’t wait to hear more. He turned and ran back into the rain, the yellow umbrella forgotten in his grip.

The rain was relentless. Bucky scanned the streets, his sharp gaze darting from one figure to the next. He moved quickly, following his instincts. Then he saw you.

You were walking slowly now, soaked to the bone, your shoulders slumped as if the weight of the world had settled there.

Bucky approached you quietly, matching your pace. When he reached you, he didn’t say a word. He simply opened the yellow umbrella above your head, shielding you from the rain.

You blinked, startled. The absence of cold raindrops pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked up. Bucky stood beside you, his face calm but unreadable, the umbrella angled to keep you dry.

For a moment, you just stared at him. His blue eyes searched yours, patient, steady—waiting.

“Bucky…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

He didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough: I’m here.

The rain fell relentlessly, soaking through your clothes, clinging to your skin, but you welcomed it. You wanted the coldness to freeze your thoughts, the heaviness of the downpour to wash away the tears streaming down your cheeks. Maybe, just maybe, the rain could hide how much you were crying. But no amount of cold could numb the ache inside you.

Why did I go after him? you thought bitterly, scolding yourself. Deep down, you knew—you felt—that you shouldn’t have followed him. Your instincts had warned you, whispered that you wouldn’t like what you saw, that you’d be disappointed.

It’s not that you still loved him or had any lingering feelings for him. It was the memories—the life you had before all of this—that you missed. Memories have a cruel way of hurting you, a constant reminder of what’s lost, especially when you know you can’t turn back time or rewrite the past.

The breakup wasn’t filled with anger or betrayal. It had been mutual—an agreement you both made, though it shattered your heart. Toby had been kind, too kind. When the debt collectors started chasing you, hounding your brother’s unpaid loans, Toby had offered to pay it all. But you couldn’t let him. It wasn’t his burden to carry.

The debt collectors—the gangsters—ruined everything. They made your life unbearable, calling Toby’s parents, threatening him and anyone close to you. That’s when you decided it was enough. You ended the relationship to protect him, to free him. Then you ran. You moved across the country, hiding, surviving. You cut ties with friends because even they weren’t safe.

And now, seeing him… seeing him happy with someone else…

You pressed a hand to your chest, as if trying to hold the pieces of your heart together. If my brother had never taken that loan… I wouldn’t have to run. I wouldn’t have to hide. I wouldn’t have to live in constant fear.

The years of silent suffering weighed on you, and the truth surfaced: you’d been depressed all this time. You pushed it down, locked it away, told yourself you were fine because you had no choice but to keep going. But right now, in the middle of the rain, all of those feelings clawed their way to the surface.

Then you heard his voice.

“What can I do to help you?” Bucky’s voice was soft yet steady, cutting through the storm like a lifeline.

You froze. The words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked up at him, rainwater still running down your face like invisible tears.

Those words. That was what you wanted to hear. That was what you had needed for so long. Without thinking, you closed the distance between you, your arms wrapping tightly around Bucky’s torso.

“Nothing,” you whispered into his chest, your voice shaking. “Just stay.”

The dam broke. Your tears finally came—hot, unrelenting sobs wracking your body. You cried for everything you’d lost, for the years you spent pretending you were okay, for the regrets and burdens you had carried alone.

Bucky stood stiffly at first, his arms slightly raised as if unsure what to do. He was caught off guard. You’d fooled him. He thought you were okay after he’d taken care of the debt collectors—the men who had chased you, terrorized you. He thought his help had freed you. But it hadn’t.

She’s been hiding it, Bucky realized, his jaw tightening. Depressed people were like that—they hid their pain so well that even someone like him couldn’t see it.

Slowly, his arms came down around you, one hand resting lightly on your back, the other shielding your head from the rain. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just held you as you cried, letting you break down in the safety of his presence.

Bucky brought you back to his place—a small, unassuming apartment that was surprisingly warm. He let you take a hot shower, the steam and heat finally driving the cold from your bones. When you emerged, you were wrapped in one of Bucky’s sweatshirts—soft, oversized, and smelling faintly like leather and soap.

You sat on his couch, knees drawn up, still sniffling quietly. Bucky handed you a small bar of chocolate.

“Mint chocolate?” you asked, the hint of a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“Everyone likes chocolate,” Bucky replied, sitting across from you. He watched you carefully, his gaze softer now.

A long pause settled between you, broken only by the sound of rain tapping on the window. Then Bucky spoke, his tone even, but with an edge of seriousness.

“Do you want me to handle your brother?”

You looked up, confused. “Handle him?”

Bucky’s expression darkened slightly. “He’s the reason you’re living like this. In my line of work, people take responsibility for what they’ve caused. He’s the one responsible. He should pay for it.”

You stared at him, the weight of his words sinking in. “Thank you, but…” You hesitated, staring at your hands. “I’ve been looking for him for the past three years. I can’t find him.”

Bucky leaned back, arms crossing over his chest. His voice was calm but firm. “Don’t worry. I’ll find him.”

Your lips parted slightly, taken aback by the certainty in his words. “Jeez, Bucky… how could I ever repay you for all of this?”

Bucky shrugged, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “The coffee, the sandwiches, and that umbrella are enough.”

You huffed a small, tired laugh, shaking your head. For the first time in years, you felt a little lighter.

Bucky sat back, watching you. He didn’t need to say it, but you understood: you weren’t alone.

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[cutehoons02]

(PREVIEW)

“You have two minutes,” he said abruptly, his tone cold but his gaze lit by something he couldn’t extinguish. “And then I want you out of here.” A smile appeared on your face. You clapped your hands softly, like a child who had just been given permission to enter an enchanted forest. He raised an eyebrow, irritated. “You’ve already lost five seconds, now it’s one fifty-five.” You sighed softly, but the smile didn’t completely fade. With a gentle yet firm voice, you spoke. “I don’t want to marry Jiwon. I don’t love him. I don’t respect him. And I already know what awaits me if I become his: a house, a bed, and a future made of nothing but pregnancies and silences. I want to be bound, yes, but I also want the freedom to choose, to study, to live my life. And the only one strong enough to protect me… the only one Jiwon could never challenge… is you, Lee Heeseung.” He didn’t say anything. You swallowed, your heart racing but your gaze clear. “I know you hate me. And that’s fine. But you can use this resentment, this anger inside you… you can use it against my father. Against my bloodline. You can take revenge… with me.” An incredible silence fell over the greenhouse, the herbs seemed to hold their breath. Heeseung was shocked, staring at you with those amber eyes wide open, his jaw clenched. Then he burst out laughing, but it wasn’t a real laugh. It was a brief, incredulous explosion. “You’re crazy.” You turned slightly, your face serious yet soft, your tone sweet… but sincere. “No, I’m dead serious.” He looked at you, as if trying to find a crack in your apparent calm. But there was none. And that’s what truly unsettled him. “You want to offer me your body… your virginity… as a pact for revenge? Is that what you’re proposing? To be branded by me, tied, used… just so you don’t end up in Jiwon’s hands?” You didn’t look away. “In a sense, yes, and you’re the only way to do it, no alpha has your power, and if I’m tied to you, your scent and your fragrance will be all over my body and no male will approach me, only you, Heeseung.” Heeseung’s lips curled into a half cynical smile. His eyes narrowed, dangerous. “Too bad I’ve never been the type to save princesses.” He took a step toward you, slow and ethereal. “Especially those who carry the blood of my worst enemy.” You lowered your gaze. Your fingers tightened around your bracelets as if they could save you from yourself. “The only one who can save me… is you,” you whispered. “You can take revenge… on your brother… by tying me to you.” But you didn’t manage to finish. His voice cut you off, sharp like a slap: “Pathetic.” You froze. A silent tear slipped down your cheek slowly. It slid along your face like an unsaid confession. Your omega aura blossomed, finally free, like a sweet and fragile scent that expanded in the room. You felt it, but he felt it much more. It was soft, welcoming, instinctively submissive but with a core of dignity impossible to extinguish. “You’re right…” you whispered, your voice low. “The two minutes are over.”

You turned slowly. And walked away, trying not to give in to the shame, nor to the pain, but then something happened. “Stop.” His voice was an order. A command, and you… you stopped. Not out of fear. Not because you wanted to. But because something in your omega nature forced you to obey. Omegas live to follow. To feel they belong. And with that voice… your body reacted before your mind. You turned slowly. “You’re really pathetic, but also… brave.” He took a few steps toward you, his eyes still burning with distrust, but also something else. Something that tightened his chest. “No one has ever faced me like this. No one. Least of all an omega.” He stopped in front of you, his body just inches away. His warmth was overwhelming, and his eyes, now darker, locked onto yours. “Do you know what really happens to an omega… when they’re tied by an alpha?” You swallowed. Your legs trembled. But you didn’t look away. “Yes,” you murmured. “Tell me.” You swallowed again, and with an uncertain but sincere voice, you said: “When an alpha ties an omega, his knot swells inside her… locking in for minutes, sometimes even half an hour. During that time… the omega loses complete control.” You said, looking at him with desperate eyes. “The body opens, surrenders. The scent changes. The orgasm is violent… uncontrollable. The bond forms. And… the omega can get pregnant at the first attempt, if the alpha desires. But if the omega isn’t ready… if she’s afraid… her body may react badly. The pain can become too much and yes… in extreme cases… she could die.” The silence that followed was different from all the ones before. Heeseung stared at you as if you were saying the most absurd thing… and at the same time, the truest. “And despite all of that… you want to risk being tied by me?” “Yes.” you said, sure of your words.

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

Thank you so much for 900 followers! To show my appreciation, I’ll be posting a one-shot about Heeseung (this one) and another one about Jay (student AU).

I hope you enjoy the plot and this little draft I’ve written. If you’d like to be tagged, just drop your @! One of the two stories will be out on Wednesday, and the other on Saturday. This is my first time writing an Omega/Alpha one-shot, so if you have any tips or questions, feel free to message me :)

[vampsol]

REMEMBER THAT | 송민기

⟢ PAIRING: song mingi x fem!reader ⟢ WORD COUNT: 5K ⟢ GENRE: angst, slight fluff, smut ⟢ TAGS: exes(ish) au, "we're on a break" au, soft pining, miscommunication, makeup sex, praise kink, oral (f receiving), semi-dom!mingi, unprotected sex, squirting, creampie ⟢ SYNOPSIS: A break is supposed to give you time to understand what you do and don't want. But what if Mingi has to come with everything that frustrates you about him, no exceptions? Can you make it work, or will you both succumb to the pressure of love not being enough? ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Beta'ed by my babes Booki @kwanisms, Tiya @gyubakeries, and Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, I love you all so much. Also song title inspiration from LANY!

There are many valid pieces of evidence to support the argument that breaks never work. Friends, family, and perfect strangers remind you, solicited or not, why minor blips of time meant to think things through are simply an excuse, leading to the demise of a relationship.

“Don’t be chickenshit,” your best friend Karina remarked when you told her you were officially taking some time apart from Mingi. He would stay back at the dorms while you both took the next two weeks to think about your future. He didn’t want to, but he had to respect your wishes if he wanted any chance to mend the fences that were broken. “You know what you want to do, so do it. Don’t hide behind a ‘break.’”

You weren’t hiding, not in the slightest. If anything, the past few days alone have given you time to breathe. To reflect on the things that have and haven’t been working in your relationship for the last year.

You work in the same industry, and yet you have kept the entirety of your coupled status under wraps from everyone, save for your intimate group of loved ones. It isn’t hard to hide when you work on almost ten guys’ hair and makeup, but it’s all too easy to let feelings impede upon your professionalism.

Mingi’s always been willing to give you everything, but he doesn’t always see the entire picture of your needs. Sometimes, you don't need him to rescue you, and his eagerness borders the line of smothering too much for your comfort.

And yet, running through the pros and cons doesn’t make you miss him any less.

You ache waking up alone, not feeling the rise and fall of his chest under your head or hearing the sounds of his gargantuan feet pattering around your apartment. It became his apartment too by association after the fifth month of dating, his belongings sitting in every nook and cranny of what used to be your solitary space. Now, without him, it feels too hollow, too reminiscent of what it was like before he came into your life.

Even drives without him are terrible, the usual cacophony of traffic more bearable when he’s by your side, singing along off-key to the music on the radio or to his playlists when he uses your car’s bluetooth.

His absence is everywhere, and where there’s freedom sits all the despair attached to his missing presence.

“It hurts!”

“It’s not gonna hurt if you just listen to me.” You try to move closer to Hongjoong’s eye with the pencil in your hand, but he whips his head away again before you can begin on his waterline. “I told you to look up and away from me. You’ll barely feel it!”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” Hongjoong pouts in the makeup chair, and you stifle a giggle that bubbles in your throat. Watching so many impeccable performers be terrified of makeup applicators is probably one highlight of your career so far, especially guys as intimidating to look at as the one in front of you.

Suddenly, you feel him enter the room. The instinctual pull between you and Mingi goes beyond logical bounds, the tether made of only the metaphysical. It reminds you, every time he walks into the same space you’re in, how your body wants to be nowhere but next to his. You hate it more now than you ever have before.

“Am I going next when he’s finished?” Mingi cuts through the sudden silence to ask, his timbre a tad hollow but somehow still hopeful. You haven’t spoken for three days. This past weekend is the longest you’ve ever gone without communicating with each other. You can tell just from the sound of his voice it’s taken a toll on him.

You don’t turn to face him directly, finding some confidence from not having to look at the face you love so much head-on. “Seonghwa is, but he’s off getting his shirt hemmed, I think.”

“Just be patient, man.” Hongjoong winks at his younger friend. You thwack Hongjoong on the cheek with your eyeshadow brush, making the humored expression on his face dissipate.

“Did I say you have to talk when you’re getting your face done?” Hongjoong shakes his head with terrified eyes. “Exactly.”

You go back to your kit, but you feel despondence creep up your neck at the small quantity of black and neutral eyeshadow you have left. “Fuck it, we’ll just have to make do with the eyeliner right now.”

“Can’t you grab some from Mina’s kit? She probably won’t mind.”

You shake your head and go back to the pencil you dropped on the vanity when Mingi walked in. “I’ll just grab some more from the store later.”

“I can pick up some now if you need me to.” Mingi pipes up again, more hope seeping through his words. Sometimes, his overwhelmingly helpful nature makes you think he'd be reincarnated as a big puppy in the next life.

You finally face him with a soft smile, and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle up at your expression. “It’s okay, Min, really. Nothing I can’t handle.”

This is exactly why you needed space from Mingi. Staring into his big, brown eyes that make your body even a fraction weaker than before is why you can’t think through things properly around him. He takes all the logic and reason out of you, leaving you only to listen to the workings of your heart. And such an effect makes it simple to forget the myriad of minor problems that became so big you could not suppress them any more.

As he smiles at you, you repeat the words in your head like a mantra: he doesn’t listen, he’s too reckless, he acts on impulse half the time…

Seonghwa walks in and exclaims, “Okay, I think the shirt fits finally!” He looks between you and Mingi and then stares at Hongjoong with a curious fluff of his eyebrows. “What’s up with them?” He mouths to his friend.

Hongjoong can only shrug, the expression basically stating “Who knows anymore man?” without verbal support.

The longer you lock eyes with Mingi, the other men in the room long forgotten, you wonder if all you’re doing during this break is delaying the inevitable.

You took copious snapshots of the boys’ last looks before they had to practice on the stage. The sweat would ruin what you worked on for hours, so it was crucial to catalog it for your portfolio before that could happen.

Now, you watch them work through the three songs’ choreography with ease. Mingi takes center stage multiple times, and you smile to yourself at how ridiculous he acted an hour prior when he was in your chair, so busy complimenting you that you could barely get through doing his makeup.

“You look really pretty today,” he says as you dab the bridge of his nose with liquid highlighter. “I mean, you always do, but I haven’t seen you in a few days, so…”

You smirk and put the tub back in your makeup kit. “Making up for lost time, Min?”

Mingi blushes, a shade so pink you think you can skip putting that component of his makeup on altogether. “Just stating the obvious.”

“You don’t know,” you say, “I may have looked like shit in my sweatpants and ratty t-shirts all weekend.”

“Wanna know a secret?” You humor him, moving closer until his lips brush the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “That’s when you look the most beautiful to me.”

You retreat with trembling hands and a breathless laugh. “Are you gonna keep spitting game or can I finish your eyes now?”

Mingi smirks and snaps his eyes shut, pressing his face as close as he can to yours once again. He whispers with such a quiet but sultry tone, you think you may risk it all and kiss him once to get it out of your system. “Do whatever you want with me.”

And here you are, back in his orbit like he’s the sun and you’re a planet, willing to spin around him forever. A few weeks ago, you didn’t mind doing so until it made you dizzy, but you don’t know now if you miss depending so much on him. His “I got this, babe” one minute and “I can handle it” the next slowly made you realize he either didn’t trust you to work through anything without his help or he was so willing he couldn’t see how it came across. 

Bringing it to his attention didn’t make him any wiser to the problem, his response defensive rather than introspective. He argued it was in any boyfriend’s nature to want to do everything for their girlfriend. “Don’t you do the same for me? What’s the difference?” He asked in the fight's haste that led to your desire to take a breather from each other.

Flitting the memories away, you focus on Mingi’s undeniably enchanting dancing and rapping. It’s what reminds you why you fell for him in the first place, both his talent and work ethic, which gave way to everything else that turned you into putty for him. 

Before the group can finish the last song, a courier taps on your shoulder. “For you, miss.” He holds out a bag from the makeup store downtown, the contents inside being all that is low in your kit.

“I didn’t order anything,” you respond, fighting the only logical answer and culprit of the situation. The kid shrugs and makes his way out of the building, and you turn back to Mingi, the giant lost in his choreography. You feel your eyes light with fire rather than fuzziness, your desires and impulses from before long gone.

When he drops from the stage and makes it to the back, you slam the bag into his chest before walking away. “Wait! You said you needed this stuff!” Mingi trails behind quickly, his long legs catching up to you in seconds.

You turn when you’re alone in the hallway, your fury unleashed. “I said I could do it after work, and you went over my head again to do something I deliberately said you didn’t have to do!” Your bottom lip trembles. “Do you not care about listening to me at all?”

“What? No!” He shakes his head, his own face becoming a mask of confused anger. “I just wanted to help. And it’s just twenty bucks of makeup. Why is this such an issue right now?”

“Because I didn’t ask for your help!” You throw your hands in the air, and the gesture only makes you feel smaller.

Mingi chuckles, no humor in the sound. “You always take things on by yourself, even before we started dating. Is it so terrible of me for wanting to help, just a little?” He practically pinches his index and thumb together to emphasize his point.

“They’re my burdens to bear,” you scream. “Is it so hard to get in your head? I’m not some princess in a tower you need to save.”

“Why do you always treat someone else’s help like it’s a grandiose gesture you should feel guilty for?” He steps closer, your chests barely a breath apart. “I help you because I want to, because you deserve it and because I love you. Why can’t you stop pushing me and others away who want to make things easier on you?”

The words get stuck in your mouth, no sounds coming out in a response that makes sense or can answer his questions properly. A tear escapes your eye, falling hot on your cheek. Mingi tries to wipe it away, but you whip your head out of his direction and rub your face with your palm.

San comes from the exit you both walked out of and looks on with concern. “You guys alright?”

You shake your head and walk past them both, your heart in knots too tough to untangle today.

You clip the buckle on your heels as you continue to hold your phone’s receiver to your ear, the sun setting as you make haste to end the call and head out the door. “Woo, for the last time, you should know where I’m going by now. I thought we were friends before I started dating one of your best friends.”

“You are, but you could be playing coy, I don’t know!” Wooyoung remarks, making you laugh. You haven’t seen the kid since Monday when you walked away from the show, not having time to say goodbye to him before you made your way home.

You always spend Thursday nights with your parents for dinner. Your immediate family decided long ago to make time out of all of your busy schedules for weekly briefings and small talk over home-cooked food. It was one of the few times you found peace in the hectic nature of everyday life.

“Trust me—and you can let our mutual friend know—just the same usual Thursday plans.” You hear a knock at the door and rush to get off the phone even faster, wondering who could be outside your home so close to the evening. “I gotta go, talk to you soon.”

You iron out the wrinkles of your dress before heading to your apartment door. The man on the other side steals your breath in his white button down and denim jeans combo. He completes the ensemble with his thick-framed glasses and his hair, tousled just a touch, exactly how you like it. His fashion choices on nights like this still stun you to no end, even if you’re surprised he’s here tonight at all.

“M-Mingi,” you say. “What are—“

“I wouldn’t miss family dinner, together or not.” He clears his throat and puts his hand out, clearly eager for you to take it. “If you’ll still have me there, I mean.”

You fight the smile tugging at your cheeks and instead take a deep breath and his palm in yours. Your fingers interlace, and it reminds you more of home than the entire 900-square foot apartment behind you. “Just because you made such an effort to look so nice. It’d be a waste, you know?”

Mingi smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He smiles to himself the entire time you lock your door and head down the stairwell, not letting go of your hand once.

You don’t say no when he offers to drive, or stop him from holding your door open until you get in, and he thinks that maybe you’re turning a corner after he slipped up. And you think you might just give into him for the sheer fact being in a car again with him, listening to his off-key riffs, reminds you of everything you’ve been missing, for better or worse.

“Honey! Mingi! Come in,” your mother beckons you at the front door. She welcomes you inside wearing her signature floral apron, though your father and brother do most of the cooking.

Neither you nor your mother expected Mingi to bring flowers to tonight’s dinner. You didn’t expect him to invite himself at all, but thinking about it, it would be weird for him not to attend when your family did not know you were on a relationship hiatus.

This Thursday holds no more significance than all the others, but it warms your heart to see your mother grab a vase from the living room to hold the batch of tulips Mingi brought.

“Sometimes I think my own husband forgets my favorite flowers. But not you, my sweet boy.” Your mother pinches Mingi’s cheek, and Mingi blushes a shade of plum at the physical touch.

“Speaking of him, does he need help in the back? I know the grill can be a pain for him and Eric to get going,” Mingi offers.

“That would be wonderful, Mingi, thank you.” You smile at Mingi as he leaves you two to walk towards the back porch. He greets your father with a handshake and your little brother with a manly hug, and any residual anger you felt over the past few days instantly dissipates.

He’s always been a caring person. You knew this the second he brought a spare pack of bandaids on your second date when you slipped and fell on your knee during your first. Sometimes, as you’ve grown to learn, he seems to have a hard time hearing when his help isn’t necessary. Or the exact help he envisions isn’t the help you desire.

“That boy is one in a million, baby.” Your mother says as you walk to the kitchen together. “I can’t picture someone better to take care of you.”

You sigh. “Who says I need to be taken care of, Mom?”

She shakes her head with a grin as she keeps stirring the soup on the stove. “Everyone needs someone, my love. Even when a person is adamant about fighting their own battles like you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you huff, exasperated. “All I’m saying is that I can have someone by my side and not be wrong for wanting to do things on my own in my way, right?”

Her head continues to move back and forth, her ladle going in the same fashion. “And all I’ll say, baby, is that it’s important to let someone know those things. If you don’t tell someone what you’re looking for, they’ll make assumptions. And you know how we all feel about those.”

“They make an ass out of you and me,” Eric pipes up from behind you, making you flinch. You thwack him on the arm, and he rubs the spot with a pout. Your father and Mingi gather in the kitchen behind your brother, the simmering steaks on a large plate smelling delectable.

“Time to eat, everyone!”

Before you all can head to the table, Mingi pulls you in and whispers, “The right one is yours. Medium rare, how you like it.”

He leaves you standing alone as he sits next to your brother. Your heart resides in your throat the rest of the night, sitting beside Mingi and your mother and wondering if maybe a part of you hasn’t given credit to Mingi in the way he deserves. Maybe you both have been wrong in your own ways, and it’s still fixable.

Maybe this break is serving a purpose in a way you didn’t expect.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, but it’s charged with tension from the way Mingi rubs patterns into the back of your hand with his thumb. Both of your palms rest over your thigh, the muscle on fire from how his large fingers encompass yours and hover over the fabric of your dress.

Now is not the time for sexual frustration. It’s time to talk and see if the break can be amended into some form of peace treaty.

He parks his car in the lot and looks over at you with a small grin, close-mouthed but earnest all the same. “Tonight was fun. Glad to hear Eric’s doing good in school.”

You smile back. “My parents were happy to see you. They thought with the comeback coming up you wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I told you that.”

Your throat is in a mess of knots once again as you nod. You turn in your seat to face him head on, and Mingi mirrors your body posture. Removing his palm from your thigh, you hold it in both of your hands, finding some strength to let the words come out. “We need to talk.”

Mingi’s eyes go wide immediately, inching as close as he can to you despite the ridiculously large glove box in his way. “If this is the start of that conversation, please—“

“No, no! I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I shouldn’t have started with that.”

His free hand goes over his chest, and the relief floods over his entire expression. “You really can scare the shit out of a guy, you know that right?”

“I said I’m sorry,” you respond with a teasing pout. “But, I think I’ve been terrible at communicating what I need from you and from this relationship.”

Mingi thinks the words over before he nods slowly. “Okay.”

You inhale again, taking in a deeper breath. “First, I apologize for not being transparent. I should’ve said that I’m not exactly the greatest at getting help, not just from you. And my expectations couldn’t have been met if I didn’t tell you what they were, and I’m sorry for that.”

Mingi nods with ease, almost like he’s shrugging it off entirely, like there was nothing to apologize for. 

You continue, your confidence in your speech building. “I love the big and little things you do for me, and I’ve always appreciated your willingness to be there no matter the time of day for those you care about. For my family, for the guys—even for a random person on the goddamn sidewalk.”

You feel tears pooling in your eyes. “But, I need you to listen when I tell you there are some things that you can’t help me with, or that I don’t need your help for. And taking my opinion and listening doesn’t mean you’re not doing your best as a boyfriend. The opposite, actually.”

You see words on Mingi’s tongue threatening to spill out, and you give him the clear to say them. “I guess I just don’t know how to show you I’m here for you otherwise.”

“You’ve always shown me that, Min,” you respond instantly, not wanting him to doubt himself or his capabilities as a partner. “All I want is for you to be by my side, even if I’m struggling with things, and if you can understand that I’ll ask for your help when I need it moving forward, I think we’ll be okay. Okay?” You kiss his palm in between your own hands, and you tuck it under your chin.

Mingi smiles and puts his other hand on your thigh, rubbing the skin through the material of your dress. “Does this mean that I have to go back to that store and get a refund for the makeup I bought?”

You laugh, the sound coated with happiness, and shake your head again. “No. Why let all that good eyeshadow go to waste, right?”

Mingi chuckles, full of vigor. “Right.” He leans across the box between you, your lips an inch away from his. “And does this mean I can kiss you now?”

You quirk an eyebrow and smirk. “If you know what’s good for you, Song Mingi.”

His lips press to yours, quick and hard, and you swear you hear the clack of your teeth against his the second they collide. You don’t care, though. The feelings that accompany the kiss are all-encompassing; the pain from being apart for days, the tension from the entire night between you like a knife ready to strike down, the love that’s always been there even when you both were apart.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” Mingi confesses. His lips reattach to yours as he bunches up your dress with his hands, his fingers just barely ghosting over the hem of your panties. Your quickly dampening underwear meets the cool air in Mingi’s car, and you shudder.

“Min, the place for kissing and making up is not in your car. Take me to bed properly, please?” You beg and nibble at his bottom lip. The moan that leaves his mouth makes your heart sing and your pussy wetter than it was a moment before.

He nips your lips again before saying, “Anything you want, always.”

Mingi sprawls your body out on your shared bed gently. You can tell he’s worried the moment is a figment of his imagination, or you’ll change your mind in a second, wanting him to go back to waiting and wishing for you again.

But you dispel the doubts in his mind the second you say, “Mingi, please touch me.” He grins and pulls your dress down by its hemline, the strapless material easily removed from your body with his strength. 

He kisses your skin as if starved of your body for years instead of days, moving from your ankle to the juncture of your thigh and pelvis. You moan weakly, hips bucking into nothing but the cool air. “You’ve made me wait, princess. It’s only fair you have to wait a little bit too.”

His words ring hollow, though. The second your panties meet the same fate as your dress, he kisses your clit and folds with all the love and admiration he has in his body. He dives into your cunt with the same fervor he put into his kisses on the way there. His mouth goes at a solid and quick pace, his tongue slipping inside of you before circling around the sensitive nub between your legs and repeating in that fashion.

You clutch his hair with your hand. Mingi’s other hand presses down on your stomach so you can’t arch too hard off of the bed. “So eager and so wet, princess. Just like I like it,” he whispers hoarsely.

“Fuck, fuck, Mingi, please fuck me,” you whimper. “I want to come with you inside of me.”

Mingi shakes his head, his hair ruffling against your inner thighs. “I want one on my tongue, baby. Just one.”

He increases his tongue’s speed against your clit, flicking so fast you think you may die before you feel the effects of your impending orgasm. But, thankfully, you get to welcome the release in all of its glory. Your essence covers Mingi’s face as you ride out your high, letting your hips roll until you come down completely.

Mingi kisses you hard when he comes up from between your legs. You mewl at the taste of yourself on his tongue. He taps the side of your thigh with his fingers, and by now you know what he wants you to do.

You turn and raise your body up on all fours. You jut your ass out for him to admire in the moonlight's glow pervading your bedroom window. He chuckles, but it’s airless from his shock at the sight in front of him, one he thought for a second he would never see again. “Goddamn, I could look at you all day. You know that, right?”

You look over your shoulder and bite your lip, moving back to brush his reddened cock, making him groan. “Why look when you can touch?”

He slams inside of you in the next second, clit smacking against his balls from the sheer force and size of him going all the way inside of you without issue. You press your face into the bed underneath you, garbled moans filling the room because of your pleasure.

Mingi yanks you up by your hair, not slowing his pace. “I don’t think so, princess. I want everyone in this place to know how good you’re getting fucked, got it?”

He bends your neck at an absurd angle to kiss you again, his tongue and lingering traces of your essence filling your mouth as he drills his cock into your velvety walls. It’s indescribable how impeccable his sex drive is, tonight one of all the other nights he’s made you fall apart multiple times without a sign of stopping.

But seeing as you’ve been apart for the better half of a week, you think he may just fall apart as fast as you do on a normal day.

“Min, I’m close,” you warn, your body slowly weakening from staying in position after such merciless thrusts and the brutal force of his cock slamming in and out of you.

Mingi holds you up with one hand while the other snakes down to your clit with intense exuberance. “Me too, baby. Just hold on tight, okay?”

Suddenly, he’s going faster than he ever has before, your body merely a toy for him to emit dozens of thrusts into in such a brief time span. His speed is almost unmanageable, it creates blind spots in your vision. You come with a violent cry ripping from your throat, your body releasing onto his cock and on the sheets below you. You don’t stop coming until he slows his own pace and orgasms himself, the mess between you and on the bed a mixture of your releases.

Mingi exits you and moves the two of you to a spot on the bed not covered in the mess, but he can’t help but stare as his cum leaves your cunt in small droplets. He’s partly fascinated by the sight, but also relieved to have you back in his arms in the bed you’ve shared for months.

He rubs up and down your arms and kisses across your collarbone until he reaches your face, his eyes reflecting a pool of love and satiation. “Hey, beautiful. Are you feeling okay?”

You smile dumbly and give him a small nod. “Never better.”

He kisses your nose before he meets your lips again, this kiss softer than all the other ones you’ve received from him tonight. “I love you.”

You know he means it every time he says it. Yet, somehow, with a newfound understanding of your shared wants and needs, and a promise for the future to be better than the past, this time he says it feels sweeter than it ever has. And when you say you love him back, you mean it even more.

@gyubakeries @loserlvrss @lovetaroandtaemin @xomakara @pars-ley @addictedtohobi

𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 ౨ৎ˚₊: @kstrucknet @k-films @kvanity-main @lapydiaries @moadiarynet @/sweetvenomnet @onedoornet @deoboyznet @violetanet @whipped-kpop-creators @pirateeznet

𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫 𝑴𝒀 𝑶𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑹 𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑲𝑺 𝒐𝒓 𝑱𝑶𝑰𝑵 𝑴𝒀 𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻𝑺 © 𝖠𝗅𝗅 ��𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝖧𝖤𝖤𝖢𝖧𝖶𝖤; 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖻𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍.

[cloversnstrawberries]

YOU LIKE LABYRINTH????? I love love love David bowie since i was little and loveeeeee anything with him with(人´∀`)♪

Please feel free to post anything you feel like about it!!! Imagines or full works or whatever, you wrote jareth so well💔💔💔

Have a good night:D🏝

"metamorphosis" platonic!yandere!jareth & past runner!new fae!preteen!gn!reader [oneshot] ! !

masterlist !

description; You were once a runner of the Labyrinth, one of the many that failed to complete the challenge in time-- but in a desperate plea to save your younger sibling from becoming a Goblin, you volunteered to stay in their stead. Too old to become a Goblin, you became a 'guide' meant to lead runners astray; the Goblin King should've known better to think you would've actually helped him in that way. Of course you'd disobey him, but for some reason, he doesn't seem all that bothered about it.

additional notes; heeey... how ya'll dooinnggg... I accidentally took a bit of a break because i was having seizures and needing to be hospitilized!! whoopsie!! even though i don't post on ao3, the curse still hit me. but i'm better now!!! and i finally finished this!! i hope i did well!!! i also literally lOVE david bowie, i also love 80s, dark fantasy, jim henson & jennifer conneoly and i blame it all on Labyrinth. or most of it at least. YIPPEE

warnings; possessive behavior, jareth being cryptic, jareth is non-human therefore does not abide by human culture/morals nor understand it fully, past kidnapping, reader took the place of their younger sibling after failing to complete their run, non-consensual body modification (reader unknowingly becomes a fae), restraints (reader's wrists/hands are tied), and if there's anymore i miss, please lmk!!! once i write something, i seem to instantly forget it </3

w/c; 4.1k

It was supposed to be a little joke-- you wishing your sibling away to The Goblin King. It was just a story, obviously; you'd said it to scare them, that's all.

You never thought it could actually be real, otherwise you wouldn't have done it. It was just a fairytale--! but you found it rather difficult to cling onto that idea when The Goblin King appeared before you, in the flesh; telling you to either run his Labyrinth or give up right then and there.

Go back to your life without your sibling, that he'd use his magic to fill the gap they left in everyone else's mind. Wipe their chubby little face from family photos, make it seem like their school desk was always empty; their half of the room would be gone, and it'd seem like it was always just your room.

But you'd still know, even if The Goblin King tried to wipe your memory or whatever, you know that, deep down, you'd still feel like something was wrong. A nagging itch in the back of your mind, that there was something missing.

It'd drive you mad, not knowing what that something was. But even more-so, if you did remember them, it'd drive you insane. The idea that you could've saved them from your stupid mistake, but didn't take the chance.

13 hours seemed like plenty of time to get it done; but The Goblin King played dirty. You should've known, that he wouldn't make it easy for you. When the clock chimed 13, appearing in front of your face, a pit formed in your stomach.

In a last ditch effort, as The Goblin King appeared before you once again, stood beside the intricate golden clock-- you begged, pleading that there had to be another way.

By the end of it, you traded places. Your freedom for your younger sibling's, who got to return home under the impression that this was all one big dream. Got to come home to their own room, no traces of you left; got to greet your parents as their only child.

Like it'd always been that way.

Obviously, you weren't so lucky. In place of your little sibling getting turned into a goblin, you were now tasked with being a 'guide' for the new runners.

You were supposed to guide them away from the Labyrinth, convince them that it wasn't worth it to continue on. That whoever they wished away was a lost cause, and there was no point in trying.

The Goblin King should've known better than to think you'd go along with it. You know that he's watching your every move, he has eyes all over-- in form of his subjects, the creatures lining the Labyrinth, his crystal balls, and probably some other means that you aren't yet privy to.

There's no solid way to tell how long you've been here, but you keep track of it by how many runners come and go. Time works strangely here, you're sure of it. Why wouldn't it? The Goblin King was already capable of so much more.

So far, you've encountered 7 runners. 3 of which claimed to be from the past, 2 who didn't speak any language you knew, and one that was from the near future. The 7th was eerily close to you, in a similar spot as you'd been.

Her name was Sarah, and she, by far, had been the one to make it the furthest. From what you've heard, she made it. She did what you couldn't, and saved her little brother at no expense to herself.

You wouldn't know, since you got a bit too bold in your way of helping her; you were 'deactivated', in a way. You just collapsed suddenly, on the groups way to the Goblin city. Fallen into a deep sleep,

One you, realistically, should not have woken up from. You weren't dumb, you knew what happened to those who disobeyed The Goblin King past the point of his own amusement.

And you knew that, at least on some level, he must've known you were helping the other runners. But he must've found your efforts entertaining, didn't see it as a real threat.

Not until you succeeded in what you thought was a pointless kind of endeavor, and actually helped a runner succeed where so many others had failed. You can't take all the credit--

But you're going to take the brunt of the punishment for it, you're certain. Yes, Hoggle had also been a large help to Sarah; so had Ludo, Sir Didymus, and Ambrosius;

In The Goblin King's mind, though, you were different. You were not his subject, you were not a creature of the Labyrinth. Before you arrived, he'd never had any issues like this. With his subjects defecting like they had,

You were the perfect scapegoat, you realize now. Sat in front of The Goblin King's throne, legs criss-cross-apple-sauce and your arms bound behind you with... vines, you believe; you've come to expect the worse.

For a while now, The Goblin King has been sitting in his throne, staring at you. Studying you, like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The throne room was eerily silent, only faint, very faint, sounds from outside could be heard from here.

And for a while, you'd been zoned out. Eyes on The Goblin King, but not looking at him. Eyes glazed over, hardly blinking-- off in another world. A world where you didn't do this to yourself, still living happily with your parents and younger sibling.

"Human's are stubborn little things, aren't they?" Is what broke the silence, and you jolted in place at the suddenness of it. Quickly, you blinked away any residual dryness from your eyes, before casting your eyes to the ground.

It was interesting, the stones were uneven and different colors. Some where more sparkly than others, some were a normal gray while others were fantastical shades of purple, or green, or something of the like.

You weren't here to admire the floor, though.

A few beats of silence passed, before you realized he wanted a response. Voice croaky, throat dry from fear, you quickly agreed "...Yeah." You don't know what he wants from you, in any sense of the word.

He leaned forward in his throne, arms folded and braced atop his knees. On reflex, you look up at him to see how his hair fell around his face, framing it like you imagine a halo would to an angel, in a tangential kind of way.

Which he very much isn't, but he was ethereal like one. That's how Fae used to lure in weary travelers and lost children in the woods, yeah? Their beauty?

He studied you for a few moments more, before suddenly saying "You've began to change." Well that was-- cryptic. And you should knew better than to prod, you really should--

And you do, but that doesn't mean to you heed it.

"How?" Something you couldn't quite name curled deep in your gut, a primal kind of terror that you've never felt before. Not like your are now. The Goblin King didn't respond immediately, and you feared the worse.

You feared that you'd ticked him off even more than you already did, with how you (supposedly) paved the way for a runner to conquer the Labyrinth. Something that didn't happen very often, you've been told.

It should've brought relief, when he opened his mouth to speak-- and didn't seem angry. But you can never tell with him, you think. Fae are tricky like that, or so you've heard. Despite being in his... employ(?) for however long you've been, you don't interact with him much.

This would be your... 4th, maybe 5th if you're being generous, time meeting with him since you failed your run at his Labyrinth. You don't have much to go off of for his behavior, and for all you know, he could be livid right now. Masking it-- you aren't sure.

In a shocking turn of events, he decided against what he was going to say. Instead, he closed his mouth and reached forward-- it took all your energy not to violently flinch back, as he cupped your cheek with his hand.

Tender in a way you didn't think he could be, especially not to you. it's a trick, something in the back of your mind hissed. he's tricking you.

But you can't do anything about it, so you just sit impossibly still-- like a statue, as you try to keep your trembling under check. Staring into the eyes of your inevitable end, like you were, was bound to make you nervous.

Slowly, gentle in the way you'd be gentle with something fragile-- like he was handling a priceless porcelain doll, delicate and easy to crack with one wrong move--, the Goblin King guided your head to the left.

He kept you in place for a bit, studying you-- he had no care to disguise what his intent was, so you caught on rather quickly. You aren't sure how long you two stayed like that, until he gently guided your head to the right.

what's the point? you think to yourself, swallow past the lump in your throat. what is he getting out of this?

The relief you felt when he pulled his hand back was almost crushing in its weight, you felt like you could collapse from it right then and there. But you knew that the worst has yet to pass, as you chance a glance up, and catch the Goblin King looking lost in thought.

Reclining in his throne once again, elbow propped on an arm of the ornate chair, chin propped up against his hand-- he simply stared at you. Hands curling along the hem of your shirt, you dare to ask "What are you going to do with me?"

You reason with yourself, that it can't already get worse than this. The Goblin King despises when people 'talk back to him', when they don't play along with his tricks and games. Acts amiable until you become a disturbance to his ever-important amusement,

But really, you must already be at rock bottom with him. You're a scapegoat, you'd figured that out quite some time ago; the quicker this is over with, the better.

The stone floor wasn't the most comfortable surface to sit on, and your muscles began to ache from sitting in one position for so long. Being as tense as you had been for the last... however long you've been stuck here. Again, not very easy to tell the passage of time in a place like the Goblin King's realm.

And to your blatant shock, the Goblin King didn't immediately snap at you for interrupting his thinking. Instead, he... smiled, and it made your skin crawl. Scared you more than if he'd just straight-up yelled at you, or turned you into a toad or whatever.

"That's what I'm deciding on, little one." He's called you that before, little one, so that's not what caught you off guard. Not as much as the tone he said it in,

Usually, he was mocking about it. Like he couldn't bother to even remember your name, let alone use it; it lent him an air of superiority, the inherent power dynamics to that of an elder and a younger.

It sounded almost fond, not entirely devoid of what you could interpret as mocking, but softened to the point where it could pass for some friendly teasing.

A part of you wanted to push him, to tell him 'well decide faster, i'm getting bored' just to get it over with. The anxiety of it all was awful, waiting for him to come to an agreement with himself. In the end, he was probably well aware of it,

He just wanted to drag your torment out even further. Wring the last few drops of entertainment from you before tossing you aside-- you'd more than ran your course. You were an outsider, something strange between a runner and an inhabitant of the Labyrinth.

But you didn't tell him to get on with it, for one reason or another. You continued to sit there, staring up at him-- hoping he'd come to a conclusion soon. Whatever he did, it wouldn't be pleasant for you.

Execution? Banishment to the Barrens outside of the Labyrinth's walls? Sentencing you to become a punishing bag/training dummy for the Goblin warriors? Leave you to rot in an oubliette?

Really, the options were endless. maybe that's why he was having such a hard time choosing between them.

Suddenly, he broke the silence by cryptically asking "Have you noticed anything different?", and it was far too vague for you to even know where to begin "I... pardon me?"

His laughter sounded like bells, light and airy and chiming-- it felt more like a funeral toll than church bells. Slow and damning, a sentence of your demise in-of-itself. "Ah, excuse me for being so general about it. Allow me to specify,"

Leaning forward from his throne once again, the Goblin King's smile resembled that of a wolf. It took everything in you not to lean back--Jesus, you'd never noticed how sharp his canines were. It was disturbing. Lending him more of an uncanny feel than before,

"Have you felt any different, as of late?" Waving his hand aimlessly by the side of his head, he was begin listing different examples of these 'differences' he was looking for. "Maybe you can see better, you don't need to sleep as much, can go longer without food or water...?"

Cautiously, you nodded your head. But that's just an affect of the Labyrinth, isn't it? Even when you were running it, you didn't feel tired or particularly hungry during it.

Then again, maybe it was the fear of your situation and desperation to reach the castle in time that kept your mind off of those subjects. The human physiology can do funny things under immense and prolonged amounts of stress, you know that much.

Grin stretching impossibly wider, his teeth on full display-- almost like he was baring them, making it even more difficult to stop from shaking under his suffocating presence-- he leaned back into his throne, head thrown back,

And he laughed. The ones he'd done before paled in comparison to this one, like comparing the fire on a matchstick to the one of a forest fire's. Full bodied and winding, almost like a hyenas. Edging on hysterical, like this was the funniest thing he'd ever encountered.

You don't know if that meant something good, or something terribly bad for your fate. On one hand, maybe you were so entertaining he's decided to let you live-- but then again, he could be tricking you.

It's hard to tell with the Goblin King, with any type of Fae, as you've come to learn. Even the lesser sorts, like the little Fairies that reside just outside the wall of the Labyrinth that communicate only in squeaks and other vocalizations-- are tricky sorts of creatures.

Ethereal and beautiful, you'd expect them to be kind and benevolent. Not to take any chance they get to sink their awfully sharp teeth into your palm; not to eat, maybe just to cause needless harm. Giggling about it after the fact, taking joy in the distress they cause.

And you had half the mind to stand and try to run-- your hands were bound, but your legs were not. It's not like that'd make much of a difference, because either way you can't escape whatever the Goblin King has planned.

But still, some part of your pride remained. Made your gut twist in discomfort as he laughed right at you, not a care in the world-- why was he laughing? It irked you, more than if you'd known what exactly he was laughing about.

When he was done with the hysterics, his head tilted down as he delicately wiped a tear from the edge of his eye, you felt something... shift. Practically saw it, in the strange emotion(s) he held in his gaze when he opened his eyes to look at you again.

"Do you know how long you've been here?" And this you can answer completely honestly, shaking your head slowly. Refusing to take your eyes off of him now, afraid that if you do, he'll do something when you aren't looking. Then you'll never see anything again.

"You've been here... hm, I suppose it's been a decade or so by your standards." No-- that can't be it. He's lying! Or-- well, Fae can't lie, but he certainly has to be stretching the truth.

But time works differently in the Labyrinth, so that can't be much cause for concern. Despite that explanation, you can't ease the worry, or the fear curling around every part of your mind.

Leaning forward again-- good god, this man doesn't like to stay still, does he?-- he puts his hand on your head this time. If he noticed your flinch when he did so, he didn't comment on it.

Didn't do anything further, just kept his hand atop your head as he continued speaking "I'm not one to keep track of those sorts of things; but it's odd, now that the fact has come to my attention. You stopped aging shortly after you began your... tenure."

He sounded far too smug, calling your semi-involuntary stay in his realm, under his control-- as a tenure. Like this was some run-of-the-mill office job.

Jackass.

When he doesn't continue, you grow bold as time drags on in silence. Asking in a biting tone "So? The Labyrinth handles time weirdly. That doesn't mean anything." He snorts "My, you act as if you know my Labyrinth better than I do."

You bit your tongue on that one, it felt too much like bait. Like he wanted to coax you into a greater offense, just so he could snap at you for it. But that would be too logical for him, if he wanted to be mad at you, then he would've already done so, yeah?

The Goblin King hummed, his fingers began to card through your hair in what you assume was meant to be a reassuring gesture, but it only put you more on edge.

"But no, it does mean something." You don't know how to feel about it, when he takes his hand away from your head just to stand from his throne. Beginning to pace around the room, you try to follow his movements all the while.

The sly smile on his face let you know that he was more than aware of that fact. He must be basking in it, your unease. Your fear of what was to come "Do you know what it means, since you seem to know so much about my Labyrinth?"

Yeah, he was definitely baiting you-- but for what? Surely not to get mad at you, because, again, if he wanted to do that than he already would have. what was the point of this all? You asked yourself before responding.

Not like you had much choice, either way he'll get what he wants. Whatever that may be, well, you'll just have to wait and see.

"...I'm becoming apart of the Labyrinth?" That made the most sense. it didn't scare you nearly as much as it should, the idea that you're becoming apart of this realm-- because for all intents and purposes, you may as well already be apart of it.

An outsider in technical terms, still far too human to be a formally regarded resident of the realm; but you know you're never going to leave here. Not alive, at least-- and you'll never be back to your actual life.

Becoming apart of Labyrinth might be a blessing in disguise, really. Hopefully you don't lose yourself to madness, though. You'd like to keep as much of your mind as possible.

Maybe he'll spare you because you're becoming one of his subjects. Perhaps he thinks that means you'll have to obey his every whim--

Suddenly, he stops dead in his track-- facing away from you at first, he slowly turns, that wide, wolfish grin still on his face as he tilts his head to the side "Hmm, not quite! Closer than I thought you'd be, though."

Heart pumping faster than it ever had before, your vision blurred as the Goblin stepped forward. The click-click-click of his heeled boots made your heartrate spike, and just as your ears began to ring; your felt his hand tuck itself beneath your chin, pull your head up so you could truly look him in the eye.

"No, darling little nestling." ...Well, that was new! Miraculously, you held back a frown at the, uh, pet name(?). For now, at least. "Something similar, though."

Why does he hate being straight-forward? Does he always have to drag it out like this-- seriously, it was beginning to get on your nerves. It always did, but then again, your meetings with him were never this long, so you were never exposed to it in large increments.

He pouted, overdramatic and obviously fake "Aren't you going to ask me what I mean?" You want to stay quiet for once, not give him what he wants. The way his fingers ever-so-slightly dig into the flesh of your jaw, however, makes you grit out a "What do you mean?"

"Hm." He said, like he was going to comment on the tone you used, but he didn't do anything further like you thought he would. His grip loosened up, but his hand never stopped holding your head in place "The Labyrinth's taken a liking to you, supposes I've been lonely as of late."

You always found it strange, how he speaks about the Labyrinth like it was a living thing. And maybe it was-- you couldn't be sure, of course the Goblin King would know. So it probably is sentient, at least to some degree, but to what degree? You don't know.

There's some other evidence to prove that the Labyrinth isn't entirely inanimate, piecing it together lends truth to the idea that it isn't just some building or piece of land. That it was an entity, one that the goblin King supposedly had a close bond with.

"You have the Goblins?" You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, quickly shutting your mouth after saying it-- like that'd do anything to undo what you just said. Luckily (or maybe unluckily, you can't be too sure), Jareth didn't take it to heart. He just huffed, and raised one brow "And you think they'd make good company?"

"How can you be lonely with so many creatures-- The Goblins are always hanging around you." You're done for-- or maybe not. The Goblin King is so weird, never know if he'll be angered when talked back to, or if he'll find it entertaining and let you off the hook.

He rolled his eyes, before crouching down-- now at eye level, he seemed even more intimidating than before, believe it or not. "None of them are like me, all too simple minded for me to truly consider them company."

"I'm not either. If I was just a bit younger, I would've been a Goblin." You aren't too sure about the cutoff range for a Goblin was, but you'd guess around... 7 or 8 at the oldest. Bit of a reach, 'just a bit younger' was, but it was still kind of true. There was no set meaning for 'just' after all, could mean whatever you wanted in the moment.

His grin faltered for a moment-- you almost missed it, too focused on your throat closing up from fear in the moment, but happened to catch it by pure coincidence. It was reinstated just as quickly as it'd began to fall, but you know you saw something.

"But you aren't. You're becoming a Fae," His hand shifted from holding your chin to cupping the side of your face. Too familiar, too kind-- gentle, warm, like he actually cared for you. "I can't just toss you out after that, can I? It's quite obvious that you'd make a fantastic heir when the time comes."

You're just so lost that you don't even bring up why you were here in the first place-- you helped a runner to the end. If anything, you'd be the worst fit for an.. an heir!

"I'm not--" You try to argue, the Goblin King frowns and scoffs, snapping his fingers. Suddenly, your mouth shuts so quickly that your teeth click together with the force of it. "Hush. Nothing you can say will sway me on this,"

Other hand cupping the other side of your face, he shook your head side-to-side for a moment, grin back on his face as he continued to observe you. "Yes, I think you'd do quite nicely. You'll be the most spoiled child in the realm-- can't have anything less for my heir, now can I? How does that sound?"

awful. you think to yourself, but you find yourself unable to speak against it.

[sevikasprincesss]

𐙚 ̊ don't hide from me, you're beautiful ⋆˙⟡

Chapter Two - Princess in her Tower

sevika x reader ← click for my ao3 for all four chapters.

18+ only (minors and men dni) ✮ word count ── 2500ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

content warnings; nsfw, mature content, smut with storyline, vaginal sex, oral, explicit language, angst, 18+ readers only, reader has female anatomy, sevika top/dominant <3

🃜 🃚 🃖 🃁 🂭 🂺

Sevika smirked at the memory of you, the taste still fresh on her lips. Following Silco into his office, she indulged herself in one last glance of you, now bending over slightly as you stepped into your dress. Sevika bit back a laugh, shutting the door behind her and walking over to the drinks trolley, pouring Silco his usual drink, then hers.

“Care to explain what’s going on between you and my barmaid?” Silco asked, smirking slightly as he sat back in his chair, puffing on his cigar.

“She was getting a bit… over confident, sir,” Sevika says, handing him his drink and sitting in the chair opposite. “She needed to know her place, that’s all.”

“Hmm,” he said, eying her closely. “I trust you saw to that?”

“Thoroughly.” Sevika smirked, taking a swig from her bottle.

“As long as you don’t break her,” he said looking over his papers, “I might need her for the next job.”

✧˖*°✧*°࿐✧˖*°✧*°࿐✧˖*°✧*°࿐✧˖*°✧*°࿐

After slipping my dress on, I quickly began clearing up the bar so I can finish. I absolutely did not want to be here when the pair of them leave his office. In fact, the thought of it was bad enough. I didn’t think I could handle their jokes, taunting, and gods only know what else. All I wanted right now was to collapse into bed and forget about everything—including Sevika.

With all the energy I could muster, I climbed the many stairs to my room, which just happened to be in the attic tower behind the Last Drop. Ever since Silco took over the lanes, this is where I was kept—where I lived. The attic, my home, if you could call it that. This way, I was always close on hand if my services were required, that’s the way he liked it.

My room was originally a dark, dull, and damp room overlooking the lanes through the one window, which had bars on the outside. I could still remember my first night here. Oh how I cried, how I wept, sobbing myself to sleep on the cold hard floor with nothing but the spiders for company.

The memory hung over me like a thick, grey cloud. I shivered, shutting the door behind me and undressing, jumping into the shower.

Over the years, I’d managed to brighten the place up a little bit. I even came to regard it as my little sanctuary… it just happened to be in the same house as the biggest crime lord in Zaun. But I managed to save what little money he gave me for weeks; months, even, just so I could buy two tubs of paint and cover the walls in my favourite colours—pastel pink and yellows.

I painted pink, puffy, rolling clouds on the walls and ceilings, scattered with tiny yellow stars. It wasn’t very good, but it was enough to make me happy. It’s crazy how the small things brighten your days.

Over the years, I’ve collected little pieces and hung them on my walls for decoration. It was mostly leftover bits of scrap that I managed to use, creating something else entirely. Flowers, stars, even a moon sculpture made from old newspapers and cardboard. You could do whatever you wanted, if you put your mind to it.

These little creative musings made my ‘home’ seem a lot less depressing, anyway.

Silco had given me many freedoms, though, so I can’t complain about that. He gave me perhaps more freedom than any other crime-lord would give one of his servants. It could be a lot worse, I knew that. I think he pitied me a little, when he took me from my father. I say took, so not to remind myself that my father sold me. I try my best to forget that little fact.

When I came here, I had nothing but the clothes on my back. No possessions, no photographs, nothing to suggest I’d had a life before this. Perfect, in Silco’s eyes. Nobody would ever come searching for me, nor would anyone fight for my freedom. I was a nobody.

He treated me fairly, considering… well, considering the violence he’s known for. For starters, he didn’t force me to work in the brothel, nor did he send me to the pits—the violent underground fighting establishment that many of his men frequent, betting on those unlucky enough to work there. Silco gave me his bar to run, his people to entertain. A few errands to run here and there. He even paid me a few coins every week for my efforts. Not much, but enough to pay for food and necessities.

It was easy really, just do what he asks and remain loyal to him, which of course I did. Through fear or loyalty, I wasn’t sure. Perhaps both? I’ve seen too many of Silco’s victims to even think about double-crossing him.

I did try to leave once. A long time ago now. I was eighteen, foolishly believing I’d get away with it, that I’d slip under his radar. The idea of freedom lured me from his grips and I chased it, eagerly, desperately, trying to get away from the life I was sold into. I left with a girl I knew from the lanes, Ren. She was my only friend.

But we didn’t even make it to the bridge before being dragged back here, forced to watch as my friend was being beaten to a pulp. They needed me, you see. Needed to maintain appearances, so I got away with only a few bruises. I was locked in my room for a whole month on my own after that little escapade.

When they finally let me out, she’d gone, vanished. They refused to tell me anything, but I never saw my friend again. And I’ve been alone ever since, each night a torment. It was what, nearly ten years ago now? But the thought of her still haunts me even now. The guilt gnawed at me. It was my fault she’d gone, after all.

“No.” I scold myself. Stop thinking about that.

I grip my face in frustration, trying to clear my mind as the nightmares haunt me. I run my fingers through my hair, braiding it absentmindedly as I dried myself off from the shower. I throw my towel over the door and collapse into bed, hiding myself under the covers.

I wrap one arm around myself, slowly rocking from side to side. My other hand cups my cheek softly stroking it for comfort. The loneliness was easier to ignore when I was busy working, surrounded by people. But at night, when I was tucked away in my room, hidden away from the world—that was a different matter. The hollow emptiness inside me was haunting, deafening in such a small, quiet space.

My mind fell upon Sevika. I thought of how soft she felt against my skin, her kisses so tender and loving. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched me like that. I probably shouldn’t find myself wanting her, craving her—not after knowing what she’s like. But I found myself hungry for her touch. I couldn’t help but feel there’s more to her, a softer side perhaps. That’s the side of her I cling to, the side of her I never expected was there.

What had I expected? I wasn’t sure. But I don’t think I’d expected such softness from someone with a hard exterior, someone who was usually anything but gentle. She wasn’t known for being soft, after all. I traced the places she’d kissed me, imagining her there once more. A soft moan left me as my fingers lowered beneath the covers, finding my clit.

I played with myself, imagining it was her fingers instead of mine. I replayed the memories of her over and over in my mind. Good girl, she praised. Cum for me.

It wasn’t long until I did, falling soundly asleep to the thought of the woman I both loathed and desired so desperately.

✧˖*°✧*°࿐

My dreams seemed to be haunted by her; her face, her touch, her kiss. I woke to the sound of my soft moans as I played with myself in my sleep, the memories of her clearly still at the front of my mind.

I heard a soft chuckle, I froze. My eyes flicked open and I realised that I wasn’t alone. Sevika was lying next to me, watching me closely with a smirk. I inched backwards in shock.

“Shit,” I mutter, almost horrified at the intrusion. I was naked, again, and she was fully clothed. What I’d do to see her naked, I thought, pulling the sheets up to my chin.

“Don’t stop on my account,” she muttered, biting her lip and watched me closely. “Carry on.”

I looked away from her, blushing furiously.

“I said, carry on,” she warned, her voice was dark and commanding. She gripped my face and kissed me.

Slowly, I continue, circling my clit and eliciting soft whimpers. I turn my head to look away, her eyes were piercing. She held onto my face, forcing me to look at her.

“I want to see you finish,” she whispered.

My blush deepened, but I continued to play with myself while she watched me. I couldn’t help but close my eyes as I felt the orgasm building. She slapped me hard on the cheek, my eyes flew open as I hissed in pain.

“Eyes on me, princess.” She smirked, pulling the sheets down and playing with my breasts carelessly.

It was hard to keep my eyes open. It felt almost desperate. I recalled last night and how she fucked me. My orgasm nearly reached, but I moaned softly, “Please, can I cum?”

“Good girl.” She smiled, “You’re a fast learner.”

I floated somewhere between ecstasy and obedience, excitement twisting inside me at the praise she was giving me.

“Please,” I beg, not sure if I can hold it back much longer.

“Cum for me,” she growled, nibbling my ear. Her words were enough. I felt my walls crashing down as I came for her, moaning her name softly.  

Her eyes were fixed on me almost admiringly as I lay there, breathing deeply. She stroked my hair softly, twirling it beneath her fingers as if lost in thought.

The slight embarrassment of what just happened washed over me. Had I really been playing with myself in my sleep? And she was there, watching, all the while. If you could die of shame, I’d be a goner, I thought, pulling back the sheets and looking away. Was I really going to give in to her, every time?

…probably.

“I need a shower,” I mutter, sitting up.

“Not so fast.” She pulls me back down by my hair, “I’ll see to it.”

She smirked, disappearing under the sheets. I pull myself up a little bit to make room for her, but she pulled my legs down at once, spreading them apart for her benefit. I could feel her breath tickling my skin before she kissed me there… everywhere. She pushed her face into me, licking, sucking, eating the evidence of my orgasm. The sensations built inside me again alongside the excitement. She spread my lips and sucked my clit, swirling her tongue around. The sensitivity overwhelmed me. My back arched. Fuck, fuck, I mutter. She slipped fingers inside me and started fucking me. I inhaled sharply, softly groaning in pleasure.

I was like putty in her hands, every single time. She made me melt, my defences disappearing anytime she was near. My breath hitching as she fucked me hard and I could feel myself building again.

“Cum again, if you can, princess.”

Her dark, smooth voice was enough. I reached my climax for the second time. And she devoured me, the taste sweet on her tongue. She leaned up, pulling her fingers out of me, dripping and sliding them into her mouth as I watched. I felt shy all of a sudden, looking away.

She pushed her fingers back inside me and I gasped, not expecting it. She pulled out and forced them into my mouth. Shocked, I try to pull away, but she pushes them further into my mouth until I gag.

“Suck,” she says, staring at me from above.

I oblige, sucking her fingers clean.

“That’s my girl.” She smirks, pushing them far into my mouth until I gag once more, then pulled out laughing. She sits next to me, kissing me on the head and wrapping her arm around me.

“I think I’m addicted.” She said as my head fell onto her, curling into her body.

“To what?” I laughed softly as I snuggled into her.

“You,” she laughed. “You’ve got me cunt-struck.”

I roll my eyes, nudging her.

“Don’t let the compliment go to your head, though.”

“I wouldn’t say cunt-struck is even among the top ten compliments I’ve ever received,” I say softly, “Though I do like the nickname you’ve given me.”

“Yeah?” she said, “And what’s that?”

“You call me princess quite a lot,” I said quietly, arm around her as we lay there. “It’s nice.”

 “Only because you’ve got long golden hair and you’re stuck living in this tower like Rapunzel.” She laughed darkly, sitting up.

I froze, a tight knot forming in my stomach at her words and lack of warmth as she pulled away from me. She stood, walking towards the door and hovering there slightly.

“Silco sent me, he wants a word.” She slammed the door behind her without a second glance, leaving me suffering from whiplash with her being so hot-and-cold.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

Hi I don’t know the difference between imagine or hcs ; I was wondering can I hear your thoughts on yandere monkey king x reader who’s the white bone lady please ; love to hear your thoughts (sorry if my English isn’t good 💗)

My thoughts, uh?

My thoughts... well, my thoughts are...

Before being the Lady Bone Demon, Reader was a mere, small, iey kind of spirit, like a fairy. She wasn't anything big, just a small creature that lived in the cold, turned to water during the hotter seasons, and waited until the cold came back and snow gave her her true form.

My thought is that she once met a small monkey, an intelligent one, and they became friends. 

Every winter, he liked to pass it with her, playing and learning about the fun and the joy that even winter can bring. And he learned the pain that spring brings and the longing for her return in summer.

Years pass, and he changes. He became a dangerous demon, his name now Sun Wukong, and he had learned a new trick: how to make an ice spirit never wither.

My thoughts are that, at first, you found it quite nice to enjoy the hotter season, the flowers of spring, the fruits of the summer, and the fire-colored leaves of autumn, but as time passed, you wondered how long this thing would last... You miss the waters, your sisters, and your brothers... You would like to go back.

"Back?" He snarls, "Don't you like my gift?! Is this how you treat me?! YOUR KING?!"

But he wasn't your king, and you didn't like his way of acting.

And he didn't like your defiance, so he hurt you badly.

He cured you, using water and ice, but you remembered... and you started to wonder what was happening with him. Since when did he want to control you and keep you close to him? Since when have his eyes become dark? Since when did the small and friendly monkey become the demon that declared to love you like life itself?

You didn't want to give in; you were proud enough to not fall for threats and aggression. No matter any time he hurt you and rebuilt you, you didn't lose a single grain of hope to being free.

So, when the diamond ring came to capture him, you secretly asked for your father, the cold wind of the north, to guide it against him. Your father responded, and not only him.

When the celestials founded you, the ice fairy that the great Sage cherished as his own Queen, they found someone that was overjoyed by his fall and asked nothing but for your freedom!

But the damage was too deep now. He had fed you those damn pills and peaches; now not even the sacred fire could melt you... You felt helpless, near to giving up on your hope...

But the Mother of the West gave you another chance.

"There's a mountain, not far from the gate of the west," she spoke. "Go there and act in my name. Protect people, help them, and act as a guardian. Once your work is done, you'll find your immortality revoked."

History is written by the winners. Your name wasn't about death and bones; it was one about keeping company men in their last moment, helping them pass the threshold, and being there when the Black and White Impermanence came. You were there, guiding children in their home when they were lost, fending them from the dangers of the night. You were there to take away the tears from the face of the young lady.

You saved women that wanted to take away their lives; you were a saint.

Your name was Lady of White Reverance.

But he had to come back, did he? He had to meet your gaze when you kindly offered to help his master by bringing him food and water, remembering then all the years of torture, of imprisonment, and of seclusion by him. And he was fast to attack you, claiming you were a demon that wanted to eat his master. a lie, a dirty lie; he even tried to take you away again, bring you back to Mount Huaguo, promising to finish his journey and come back for you, to his wife. But you refused, and that angered him again.

Only this time, you were strong enough to fend him off.

In the story, he had killed you, but the truth was that you got away, and he is still alive, now searching for you.

[aur0ral1ghts]

Hello! I really love reading your writing. If you don't mind, can you write a story where bf! Mattheo secretly plans a birthday surprise for his gf! Reader? Thank you in advance! ✨

sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇ!

ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ sᴜʀᴘʀɪsᴇs ʜɪs ɢɪʀʟғʀɪᴇɴᴅ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ sᴘᴇᴄɪᴀʟ ᴅᴀʏ.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ; ᴀɴʏʜᴏᴜsᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʙғ!ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs; ɴᴏɴᴇ! :)

I wake up with a giant yawn, my arms streching out, I rub my eyes. It was my birthday today, I've always loved my birthday, I mean, i think everyone does, my I love my birthday, especially more because it's a new chapter of life. A fresh start, and I also love the attention I get.

I get out of bed and put on my special outfit. I've been saving for at least 2 weeks now; a black tube top, a jean skirt, and a leather jacket to finish off the look. I got the outfit at a store at Hogsmeade when I was going on a date with Mattheo. He even helped me choose this outfit. I was glad my birthday was on a Saturday, which gave me the freedom to wear whatever I wanted without wearing a uniform.

I don't really know what to do with my hair, so I just curl it. I place the curling iron on my vanity, my hand fidgeting with the curl until it's perfect. I clip the curl back and do another one. I repeat this until my head is full of curls. I look in the mirror and smile.

I open the drawer to all my makeup, pulling my favorites, i start with blush, dabbing some along my cheekbone, blending it with a brush. I curl my eyelashes, and then I do numerous layers of mascara on my eyelashes. Using a wipe to clean off any messes.

My gaze looks upon a Polaroid of me and Mattheo, on our second date, at a restaurant he took us to in Hogsmeade, I remember I brought a muggle Polaroid camera (one of my friends had brought me it for a gift exchange during the holidays.) When I took it out of my purse, he was bloody confused, I explained to him that it was a camera that muggles used to take photos.

"So..do the photos move?" He asks me, fidgeting with a fork, waiting for our food to come. "No, they don't move." I exclaim. "Oh." He pouts. "Its alright, I promise they will turn out good!" I reassure him. "If you say so." He shurgs, placing the fork down as he leans in closer, inspecting the camera. "I'll take a photo of you." I say, pointing the camera to him. "Does it hurt?!" He says, eyebrows rasing, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "No! Silly, you won't feel a single thing!" I smile, angling the camera to face him. "Promise?" He murmurs. "Promise." I nod. "Three, two, one." I say, clicking a button, there's a sudden flash. "There's wasn't so hard, was it?" I ask, holding the Polaroid in front of us. The little photo frame slowly comes out from the bottom, and Mattheo watches in awe. Finally, when the photo was ready, I shook it so it was fully processed. My eyes widen when I look at the photo. I haven't had time to see his pose. In the photo, Mattheo smiles widely, his eyes crossed eyed, looking at his nose. "You look so stupid!" I chuckle. He frowns. "Cute. You look cute." He smiles. "Thank you, love." At that moment, i swear I could feel butterflies doing a backflip in my stomach. "Let me take one of you now." He says. "Okay." I say, adjusting my hair. "Oh, just click that top button when you're ready." I say, pointing to the button. "Thanks." He mutters, focusing on capturing the perfect angle. "Three, two...one!" He says, clicking the button. I do two thumbs up. I grab the camera from him as he scoots closer to me, wanting to see the final result. Finally, the photo comes out. "My beautiful girlfriend." He says almost like a proud father, patting his chest. I smile widely. "My beautiful Mattheo." I say, kissing his cheek.

I then hear a knock on the door, snapping me out of my thoughts. I open it to see all my friends outside, one of them holding a cake, another one holding a bunch of balloons. "Awe, you guys!" I thank, my friend, gives me the cake, as I place it on the nearest table. The cake is vanilla, my favorite. I give each other of my friends a hug. I felt a hint of sadness when I didn't see Mattheo within the group. "Ugh, I can't believe you're so old now!" One of my friends weeps, hugging me. I giggle. "I'm not that old, and isn't your birthday next month? You'll be my age soon!" I say, rubbing her back. "I suppose you're right." She frowns. "Okay, can we talk about how pretty she looks!?" One of my friends gasped, playing with my hair. "Awh! Thank you! I love you guys." I hug them all.

After around 30 minutes of talking and gossiping, they say goodbye. I lay down on my bed, thinking about Mattheo. I would have totally thought Mattheo would have woken up extra early and spend the day with me. But I guess not.

What..if he forgot...?

No, he couldn't have! He cares about me, why would he forget my special day. I mean.. it's my first birthday. I'm spending time with him, I guess he's still new to this. He told me I was his first girlfriend. Sure, he had many numerous hookups, but he told me I was the first one he loved. Actually loved. It still makes my heart beat every time I think about the first time he's asked me to be his girlfriend.

Back then, we weren't necessarily friends, but more like peers. Sure, like every other female in the school, he would occasionally flirt. Calling me stupid pet names like "Princess." Or "Sunshine." Then, one day, we were paired up together for a class project. It was a charms essay we would have to complete together. We sat in the library, I, of course, ended up doing most of the work while he would just sit around, figeting with his wand. But he was fun to talk to. He would tease me, and I would reply with a snarky reply as he chuckled. Then one day it sorta just happend, one day, I found myself rolling my eyes at his comment. The next, I found myself unable to stop thinking about him, i even found myself staring at his, trying to search for his dark chocolate curls in crowded corridors.

One day in class, Mattheo blows me a paper swan, It read; "Hey. Meet me at the astronomy tower tonight at 8:30."

So when I went to the tower that night, there he stood, holding flowers and chocolate, specifically my favorite flowers. "Whats all this?" I giggle. "There for you." He answers. I felt myself blushing. "Thank you." I say, grabbing the items from him. "So, uh, I asked you here tonight.." He pauses. "Uh, i was wondering...if you would be..my girlfriend." He mumbles, fidgeting. "Yes! Of course-" I say, as he hugs me.

-

After a long day of hanging out with friends, and still no sight of Mattheo. Maybe he just slept in... an extra 8 hours.. a paper swan blows out of my window. My lips part as I catch the paper. "Black Lake -M.R." My heart races, what was this all about!? None of the less, I grab my bag and walk to the black lake, I wave to a few familiar faces in the hallway, I smile as they thank me a happy birthday.

I squint my eyes as I look around the lake, searching for Mattheo, then I see a beautiful sight.

Many candles carefully placed along a blanket, a bouquet of flowers lay on the blanket, as well as a bunch of my favorite foods and two bottles of drink.

I walk closer to it, inspecting it, i gasp as someone corvers my eyes with their hands. I turn around. "Mattheo!?" I question as he smiles uncontrollably. "Hi, baby!" He says, kissing me all around my face. "You bloody idiot!" I say, smacking him. "Ow!" He Frowns. "You waited until the very last moment to celebrate my birthday?" He looks down. "Suriprise!" He says, jazzing his hands up. I roll my eyes while smiling. "Hey, remember I'm still new to this!" He says. "Remember our 6 month anniversary? You got me a gift, and I pretty much forgot?" He states. "Then, on our 7 month anniversary, you went all out." I chuckle. "Indeed." He says, intertwining our hands, as he begins to walk to the blanket. "This is beautiful, love." I say, kissing him. "I spent pretty much all day setting it up. Had to beg Theo to give me these." He says, pointing to the drinks. His friend Theo was a huge drinker. Every time I went to the Slytherin common room to go to his dorm, I would see Theo sitting down, drinking. "I know you don't usually drink, but today can be an exception?" He asks. "Okay." I smile. I pick up a strawberry and bite into it. "Want one?" I ask. "No.." he murmurs. "Why not!? They're so good!" I say. "Just cuz!" He says. I look at him. "Dont tell me you never had a strawberry before.." I smirk. "Uh, no!" He quickly lies. I try to open his mouth and try to stuff one in his mouth. "Eww! No!" He protests, i giggle. "C'mon!! Take a bite!" I beg. He grabs my waist. "Fine, but only for you." He winks. "You're so cheesy!" I say as I feed him a strawberry. "Is it good?" I ask. "Meh. It's okay, I suppose." He shurgs.

After we finish eating, he holds my hand as we look at the setting sun. "It's beautiful, isn't it." He smiles. "It is." I say. "My beautiful girl is getting so old." He frowns. "Oh shush." I laugh. "But yet again, another year closer for us to get married and us living together." My heart races. He wants to marry me and spend the rest of his life with me? "What type of house do you think you want?" I ask. He hums. "Definitely a classic house. Definitely not a modern house. Those are boring." He says. "Me too." I agree. "How many kids do you want?" I think for a moment. "Maybe two kids. One boy, one girl." He nods. "I would definitely want a boy." He says. "I could totally see you being a girl dad." I exclaim. " Actually, me too." He murmurs. "I don't know if I can handle a boy child." I laugh. "Can I braid your hair, love?" I nod. "Of course." I say, positioning myself on his lap. He starts to play with my hair before braiding it. "Your hair is so beautiful. I'm jealous." He pouts. "Your hair is so luscious. What conditioner do you use?" I ask. "I can show you after if you want." He says. "Can I stay tonight in your dorm tonight? We don't have classes tomorrow." I beg. "Of course."

After another hour, it starts to get cold, I realize i forget my jacket at my dorm. He helps me stand up, grabbing both my hands. I brush some dirt off of me. I help him fold up the blanket. "Want my jacket?" He offers, taking it off, meaning i have no choice but to take his jacket. "Yes, thank you." I smile as he helps put the jacket on me. It smells like him. We head back to his dorm, he's places all the stuff on his table as we head to his bed. I let out a high sigh as I lay down. "I wish it was my birthday forever." I groan. "Me too." He says as he flops down next to me. He slowly wraps his arms around me, bringing me in. I feel his warm embrace as he wraps a blanket around us. "I love you, happy birthday, my love." He mumbles in my ear. "I love you too." I whisper as we fall asleep together.

-

A/n; thank you so much for requesting this, I love this! Sorry that it took me at while to write this, I was busy + lost some motivation.

Masterlist link

[thewisewill80sbyers]

I didn't know bylers shippers existed hehe, what makes you think Mike likes Will? Im really curious

Ohhhh, thank you for giving me the opportunity to repost this, I wrote it for the old blog, but it's a neat summary, so I'll reuse it lmao

these are more or less the main reasons:

I personally think there are some scenes in the show and there are some choices that the writers made that are telling us that the plot of the show is going towards Will getting a "pay off", in terms of writing, at the end of the show and Mike and El finding out they are better as friends instead and Mike discovering he has romantic feelings for Will

The writers have emphasized Will's sadness in relation to Mike and El as a couple both thematically and visually, in the writing & filming of the show there are too many scenes like this especially in season 3 and 4 they have made it clear that he will never be happy if Mike and El are the endgame relationship, even during Mike's love monologue after he supposedly decided that he was ok with El having his own feelings for Mike by saying that the painting was a thoughtful gift from El when it wasn't... They put a shot of Will's sad face in the middle of the monologue, and also he was framed behind Mike when he said "I love you" which in film is a EXTREMELY weird choice unless it means something more is going on that should make us not want El and Mike's relationship to work - the writers have been sabotaging the emotional connection of the fans with mileven by doing this and I don't think that professional filmmakers don't know that, I think it's on purpose!

The writers have shown Mike and Will as having a deeper relationship than all the other relationships Mike has, putting him in the same category of El as one of his possible love interests in the plot, they have multiple scenes bonding in a tender way than Mike has with any other of his friends, they happen in private usually or in emotionally charged moments that they film to make you as a viewer feel like they are in private and show how they have this connection that's more than just friendship

The writers have wrote in the show since season 1 MANY parallels between Mike and Will and other official couples (Mileven too!!!) that are, in my opinion, hinting at them ending up together at the end of the show

You can find most of the parallels here! (I have to finish re-uploading them all here, ugh)

The writers have continously shown El and Mike to have some kind of problem in their relationship and made El decide to leave Mike behind multiple times even if to save his life because she loves him, the writers have been showing us how Mike is not her PLOT priority and instead they have put having a romantic relationship with Mike as Will's deepest desire since season 3

The writers are building up El's character to have a coming of age that has recurrent themes of her finding herself without the influence of others around her, her becoming completely free from any kind of influence, and Mike has been represented as having too many internal fears to overcome at the moment about their relationship, especially with the love monologue at the end of season 4, he has beliefs about himself as a person that clash with El's character arc about not having to feel influenced in any way, the end of the show for El should be her having complete freedom in all aspects of her life because of the circumstances of her upbringing... Not saying that Mike is influencing her in a bad way necessarily, I think they both love each other a lot but having a relationship with someone that is that much insecure about his role in your life because you have powers will always be a type of influence

The writers have shown Mike and El as not being a team at the same level by separating them constantly after s1, instead they have shown the other couples that work as working together in the supernatural plot (Jancy, Jopper, Lumax, Byler)

The writers have paralleled Mike and El's relationship to all the ships that are not working for some reasons/are not endgame and have more infatuation than a real "true love" kind of relationship (Steve x Nancy, Karen X Ted, Bob x Joyce)

The writers have wrote in multiple scenes of Mike acting awkward with Will (Mike!!! Not Will) or them having coded conversations about how much they care for each other that have no sense to exist unless there is a pay off at the end

The writers have presented El, Mike and Will as being in a love triangle and have been framing them in a love triangle composition in the framing of multiple scenes, with Mike at the centre

When during season 4 the writers talked about all the movies that have inspired season 4 and 5 they have put multiple movies with love triangles that are almost identical to the situation between Mike, El and Will

Will and Mike have multiple fight scenes that are scenes you give to two possible love interests usually, the way the fight happen is written as two lovers having emotional fights instead of as how you would write two friends fighting

The writers wrote in the show a precise parallel in all the scenes of Vickie and Robin... between them and Will and Mike, paralleling Mike to Vickie specifically... who is a canon bisexual character and even paralleling Steve and Jonathan in that context as observers of the couples!

The directors filmed their scenes how you would film romantic scenes in stuff like Bridgerton or a romcom lol

The whole painting scene was Will making Mike feel so loved that he felt comfortable being vulnerable with El, but this means he was still not comfortable on his own relationship with her, he didn't feel safe enough to open up on his own and needed that talk and needed to believe all of those ideas about him being the heart came from Eleven so that he made the jump and told her how he felt instead of being selfishly silent on it because he was too afraid of her possibly leaving him one day... When you are really deeply in love with someone in the context of movies the characters don't let those type of fears influence them and if what gives him courage is the feelings of another character in the love triangle it means he's the right person for the character

( idk if you saw gossip girl, but there was a love triangle situation between Blair, Dan and another character where Dan made Blair believe the other character felt some type of way towards her, she understood that she loved Dan because of this act because she wanted those words to be from him and not from the other guy… The whole painting lie is that same trope)

The writers are obsessed with IT from Stephen King and there are clear parallels with it in the show, the whole plot of s4 about the painting is a reprise of the plot between the romantic relationship of Bev and Ben in IT (with the postcard and the poem) Beverly is supposed to be Mike, Ben is Will and Bill is El.... Mike and El share a kiss at the end of season 3 that is supposed to parallel a kiss between Bill and Bev (they did love each other and liked each other but are not endgame)

Both Will and Mike are queercoded multiple times during the seasons, rainbows around them, queer coded lines of dialogue, being framed inside closets etc etc

There are WAYYYY more reasons, but this post is becoming too long so I'll leave it as this lol

You should rewatch the show and imagine if Will was a girl, I think many people would be seeing what I'm talking about way more and take it as a sign that Mike is going to choose "Willow" and see how Will is the better love interest for him…

Maybe it's all just queerbaiting, who knows, but at the moment I believe this is way too much for it to be queerbait!

I personally think Mike is bisexual -> the power point I made about it

and has feelings for both of them, but his feelings for El have always been a "puppy love" type that is growing to become more platonic than romantic with time, and I think he's a better match with Will, I think Will is able to make him be the best person he can be, he's capable of making Mike feel worthy in a very natural way unlike the relationship with El does at the moment!

Thank you if you read all of this, regardless of what I believe, I think everybody should be free to ship what ship they like best!! 😊

[thehungergamesrenaissance]

I am so sorry for the person I will become in March. PEOPLE magazine released an excerpt from chapter one of Sunrise on the Reaping. Read below

-

“Happy birthday, Haymitch!” 

The upside of being born on reaping day is that you can sleep late on your birthday. It’s pretty much downhill from there. A day off school hardly compensates for the terror of the name drawing. Even if you survive that, nobody feels like having cake after watching two kids being hauled off to the Capitol for slaughter. I roll over and pull the sheet over my head. 

“Happy birthday!” My 10-year-old brother, Sid, gives my shoulder a shake. “You said be your rooster. You said you wanted to get to the woods at daylight.” 

It’s true. I’m hoping to finish my work before the ceremony so I can devote the afternoon to the two things I love best — wasting time and being with my girl, Lenore Dove. My ma makes indulging in either of these a challenge, since she regularly announces that no job is too hard or dirty or tricky for me, and even the poorest people can scrape up a few pennies to dump their misery on somebody else. But given the dual occasions of the day, I think she’ll allow for a bit of freedom as long as my work is done. It’s the Gamemakers who might ruin my plans. 

“Haymitch!” wails Sid. “The sun’s coming up!” 

“All right, all right. I’m up, too.” I roll straight off the mattress onto the floor and pull on a pair of shorts made from a government-issued flour sack. The words "courtesy of the Capitol" end up stamped across my butt. My ma wastes nothing. Widowed young when my pa died in a coal mine fire, she’s raised Sid and me by taking in laundry and making every bit of anything count. The hardwood ashes in the fire pit are saved for lye soap. Eggshells get ground up to fertilize the garden. Someday these shorts will be torn into strips and woven into a rug. 

I finish dressing and toss Sid back in his bed, where he burrows right down in the patchwork quilt. In the kitchen, I grab a piece of corn bread, an upgrade for my birthday instead of the gritty, dark stuff made from the Capitol flour. Out back, my ma’s already stirring a steaming kettle of clothes with a stick, her muscles straining as she flips a pair of miner’s overalls. She’s only 35, but life’s sorrows have already cut lines into her face, like they do. 

Ma catches sight of me in the doorway and wipes her brow. “Happy 16th. Sauce on the stove.” 

“Thanks, Ma.” I find a saucepan of stewed plums and scoop some on my bread before I head out. I found these in the woods the other day, but it’s a nice surprise to have them all hot and sugared. “Need you to fill the cistern today,” Ma says as I pass. 

We’ve got cold running water, only it comes out in a thin stream that would take an age to fill a bucket. There’s a special barrel of pure rainwater she charges extra for because the clothes come out softer, but she uses our well water for most of the laundry. What with pumping and hauling, filling the cistern’s a two-hour job even with Sid’s help. 

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow?” I ask. 

“I’m running low and I’ve got a mountain of wash to do,” she answers. 

"This afternoon, then,” I say, trying to hide my frustration. If the reaping’s done by one, and assuming we’re not part of this year’s sacrifice, I can finish the water by three and still see Lenore Dove.

A blanket of mist wraps protectively around the worn, gray houses of the Seam. It would be soothing if it wasn’t for the scattered cries of children being chased in their dreams. In the last few weeks, as the Fiftieth Hunger Games has drawn closer, these sounds have become more frequent, much like the anxious thoughts I work hard to keep at bay. The second Quarter Quell. Twice as many kids. No point in worrying, I tell myself, there’s nothing you can do about it. Like two Hunger Games in one. No way to control the outcome of the reaping or what follows it. So don’t feed the nightmares. Don’t let yourself panic. Don’t give the Capitol that. They’ve taken enough already.

[alexanderlightweight]

Happy Wednesday, hope you're doing well! Really love your writings, they bring me such joy.

Thinking about Elysium's Tears specifically because of the other ask, I keep wondering how others would react, like does Alec know Jace, is Clary in the picture, how does the Clave feel about his disappearance, do they know he's with Magnus or just that he's disappeared? Does anyone know about Alec and Magnus except for Magnus' closest friends?

thank you! knowing my writing is a happy place for people honestly makes me so pleased!!! I hope this also brings you joy!

also some meta notes:

this is at least 1-3 years before Clary becomes a problem. Valentine still escaped from pretending to be Michael Wayland but that happened years early because of alec's visions so an over-protective Imogen is raising Jace. Alec did try to have someone save Jonathon but Valentine (as in canon) activates the sacrifice sending him to Lilith before running off.

the clave is used to Alec dropping off their radar, he's been doing it for years in preparation for when he finally makes a run for it. he and Magnus get about 3 weeks before the clave starts realizing something might be wrong. Alec never tells the truth about where he is, he just normally is moving quickly enough that no one figures it out. they're always like fifteen steps behind him. which gives him about 12-13 steps of freedom before they realize they've been tricked. also he's pretty distant from his family in this life because he's been raised away from them.

hope that helps!

lumine

Elysium's Tears

Magnus is in the middle of a very finicky bit of potion work when one of his strongest wards recoils, pulsing with magic as it fights off against a sudden attack.

Perhaps if it were a less important ward then Magnus would finish carefully measuring the exact weight of peacock eyelashes he needs.  Instead the ingredients are left to be collected and preserved by stasis magic, the potion abandoned for more important work.

Alexander is still sleeping, curled up in a large armchair like a pearl within an oyster.  The attack hasn’t woken him, meaning that while Magnus’ is aware of the assault, the actual magic being used can’t get through.

It’s with relief that Magnus perches on the arm of the chair and lets his fingers and magic pet over Alexander’s hair and face. Whoever is tracking his beautiful boy has and will continue to fail.

It’s hardly the first attempt made since Alexander came to him, but it is the strongest launched yet and Magnus knows that neither the Clave or the Silent Brother’s will give up.  This kind of power is almost the limit for nephilim work, which means that soon the Clave will need to look for outside help.  Something that Magnus has already insured will be immediately reported to him.

The Clave’s attempt at subterfuge will be their undoing.  While they quietly look for their lost treasure, rumors of Valentine’s survival and continued existence will spread. While the nephilim hunt for Alexander, the shadowworld will notice and watch under the assumption the Clave is looking for Valentine.  

It will both protect Alexander and put a spotlight on both the Clave’s sins and any rogue shadowhunters that are missed in the purge Magnus and the Elder’s are currently planning.  

Valentine will not survive long enough for the Clave to reunite with him, Magnus’ plans and Alexander’s visions will leave nothing to chance.

Another spike of pain distracts him and he lets his eyes slip closed as he rebuilds the walls between his senses and his magic. As useful as it is in keeping him informed, the kind of close connection Magnus keeps between the wards on Alexander and himself are rarely used because of the backlash.  Yet it’s worth it, to be the first barrier between discovery and Alexander, to know every time someone dares reach out and search for what belongs entirely to Magnus.

However the increased frequency of the attacks are wearing on his temper.  

At this rate, if Magnus doesn’t resort to using one of the dimensional pockets he owns, they'll end up retreating to the Spiral Labyrinth just to save himself a headache.  Something Magnus finds himself loath to do, despite the added security of such a sanctum. Any additional protection will come at the cost of privacy and Alexander will be too intriguing a specimen for the knowledge craving warlocks that live in the labyrinth to resist. 

Even as he plots Magnus tightens the wards around them, layering them thicker and stronger until the air around him shimmers with power.  

Alexander snores softly, unaware and free as he sleeps, unbound by the shackles of his power that haunt him so often when awake.  He takes up more space like this, sleep loosening his limbs and softening the exhaustion he always seems to carry.  Magnus leans closer, pressing soft kisses to Alexander’s brow and inhaling the scent of his own shampoo, Alexander’s unique scent blending with it.

While it’s too risky to announce Alexander’s place in his life — at Magnus’ side and belonging to him — Magnus can still create subtle waves that will make it increasingly harder for the Clave to move.  The information Alexander shares with him will be the starting point, he reminds himself.  

No one will be able to take Alexander from him.

No one.

-

magnus is playing it very safe with alec, not even raphael knows about Alec and while Magnus is wavering on letting Tessa or Jem know, he's still undecided

the Clave has been trying and failing to find Alec for several weeks now. it took a little bit but eventually the overlapping trails he laid were unwoven and they realized he wasn't where they thought he was.

alec is basically only allowed to visit highly warded properties and heavily hidden pocket dimensions because of the risk of the clave tracking him. which is basically any of magnus' places, ragnor's and cat's. so Magnus is suffering a little because he wants to take Alec out and pamper him but he can't take him anywhere mundane because he'd have to leave Alec to go secure and ward it ahead of time (not worth it) and he can't take him to a downworld location because they can't risk rumors of Magnus and a nephlim spreading with the clave on such high alert. sometimes they'll plan to go somewhere and Alec will get a vision that the protection needs to be updated.

[more-mara]

Here’s an old WIP of mine that I have yet to finish.

Only now did Oscar actually get a good look at the captain's face. The man who had basically ruled the seven seas for the last 8 years, the man whose name alone could send a man trembling to his knees. Oscar didn’t think he’d ever get the misfortune to meet him.

Oscar bowed his head, looking away from the scarred yet shockingly young looking face of the captain. He flexed his hand in his binds, feeling the rope start to burn and chafe against his damp skin.

“What is your name, boy?” The captain asked as Oscar raked his eyes up from the pristinely polished boots to stare at the sword hilted in the captain's belt.

Oscar bit the inside of his cheek, knowing that giving his name would probably be the last thing he ever did, no one survived a run in with Captain Sainz- it’s why no one knew for sure what he looked like. Oscar felt a little defiant, wanting to at least die with dignity.

Suddenly, a booted foot was planted against his back, Oscar fell forward with a groan as his face planted straight into the wooden floor of the ship, his hands still tied behind him.

“Answer when the captain speaks to you,” A voice said. He sounded French, maybe. Oscar struggled to place it exactly but as he turned his head to look at the man, he had an amused glint in his eye- as if he was enjoying Oscar’s guts for defiance.

“Oscar,” He grunted, gaze fixed on the man behind him- decidedly not at the captain. The man’s face lit up. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this.

“Oscar? Not a very nobel name,” The man said with a smirk.

“I am not a nobel,” Oscar said, straining in his confines. The man behind him seemed to take pity, removing his foot from Oscar’s back to haul him back onto his knees. Oscar was faced with the captain once more, whose face was deep in a frown.

“What are you, then? You don’t look like you can fight,” The captain said, his eyes raking across Oscar’s figure, taking in the tattered clothing and overall dishevelled appearance.

Oscar bit his bottom lip, eyes meeting the captain’s once more. He tried not to let his voice shake as he spoke.

“Women are prohibited on our ships by the articles, sir, bad luck, you see?” Oscar said, looking almost a little desperately at the captain- praying he knew what he meant without having to explain.

“Are you seriously explaining pirate code to me?” The captain asked. He looked completely unimpressed and almost angered. Oscar winced a little, straightening his back.

“The men- they need…they are still men, and men have needs…”

The wave of silence crashed over them quicker than the ripples on the ocean. Oscar could see the tension in the captain's face and he heard a small gasp coming from his left- another of captain Sainzs crew.

“If I spare your life, will you be useful to me?” The captain asked, his gaze narrow and steely. Oscar swallowed thickly- he had done this ‘job’ for years now, a different crew would be no different. He knew how to please- how to be of worth.

“Whatever you ask, I will do, sir” Oscar said and he hated how his voice shook. When his previous ship was attacked, he thought he was saved. They flew the flag of the navy and Oscar felt his heart lurch in his chest when he spotted it. Freedom, at last, after 6 gruelling years. But no, it appears Captain Sainz had flown the flag of the monarchy as a ruse to capture their cargo. And it worked, with Oscar being captured along the way.

“You will help the men clean their weapons, you can start tomorrow morning,” The Captain said, and Oscar felt himself frowning.

“I thought-“

“You said you will do whatever I ask, correct?”

Oscar nodded.

“Well, this is what I am asking. Charles, keep him straight,” The Captain said, nodding to the man behind him. So Charles was his name, good to know, Oscar supposed. Charles gave him a smug grin before unsheathing his sword, cutting away Oscar’s binds with swift accuracy.

“Welcome aboard, matey,”

[lindsaynathi0n]

DARK RED PT2

Rafe Cameron S3x Reader

{OPEN COMMAND}

[English is not my native language❗️❗️]

synopsis: 2 months after her abduction, the life Y/N had hoped for is not at all what she wanted.

tw: mention of murder, blame for the victim, domestic violence, violence, rejection, insult.

______________________________________________

[PT1]

You and your family had been living in Guadeloupe for two months.

Everything had gone back to the way it was, Bland and sad.

despite the fact that you and Rafe lived under the same roof, he was always busy. He only saw you very rarely, in the evening when you are waiting for him to brush your teeth and sleep, when he wakes you up because he is in you or when he decides to eat with you and his family.

Anyway, Rafe had to take care of his family again, and you hated Ward for it.

Rafe was a boy who always needs to prove that he can do better than others. If he has to kill himself at work, of course he will.

And because of that you and Rafe were arguing several times. Rafe didn’t want to take time for you and you, you didn’t want Rafe to stay all day until 11:00pm in his office.

You would often end up crying or Rafe would fuck you for hours and hours. Forcing you to apologize in his place because of the overstimulation.

________________________________________

Tonight was no exception, you and Rafe had argued the night before, you cried all night in silence, Rafe had been asleep for a long time when you were asleep.

You were sitting on the bed when you waited for him to finish his job. He came into my room and went straight to the bathroom to brush his teeth, you followed him. Starting only your skin care for the night.

He brushed his teeth and didn’t tell you, he didn’t even look at you. You wanted to cry but you held back.

You started taking out your skincare products when a hygienic protection package appeared in your field of vision.

Your blood is cold and you haven’t moved for a few seconds, the package was closed.

Normally a closed protection package was nothing. The only problem was the fact that since you arrived, you only bought one package.

It means that since you’ve been here, you haven’t had your period. You’ve come out of the bathroom in the direction of bed.

You climb on your side and crawl to Rafe. "Rafe..?" you ask hesitantly. Rafe doesn’t move, he seems to be asleep. You give him a little pat "Rafe..?". He doesn’t move.

you repeat your gestures until he starts moving. He turns around and slowly opens his eyes.

"What, what is it?" He says half asleep with a slight hint of annoyance. "I-I.." You look for your words. Rafe gets angry. He talks aggressively "I want to sleep. Don’t bother me."

"Rafe.. I have..". you look for words not to disturb him. He remains angry "What? What do you want? Go say it fast!"

"When’s the last time we fucked without protecting us?". You start shaking when her eyes pierce you. You weren’t afraid of him until you understood that the pogues didn’t lie, he really killed Peterkin.

Rafe’s eyes darken. He gets angry. "What do you mean, when we’ve been fucking without protecting ourselves? You’re not pregnant, are you?" he asks you not to scream.

You lower your head, avoiding his gaze. "I haven’t had my period since we got here"

Rafe puts his hands in front of his eyes, he always does that when he’s stressed or about to explode. And you didn’t think it could be stress? Maybe that’s why you’re late. You want to yell at him, you want to insult him.

You’re still not looking at him.

"If you hadn’t kidnapped me at the same time, I wouldn’t be stressed…"You whisper so he can’t hear you. You don’t want him to yell at you.

He approaches you. He gets angry. He speaks just below the scream. "I made the right decisions. I saved you from trouble. I gave you the freedom you want." You look up and look him straight in the eyes, "You gave me the good life? Rafe? Are you serious? You no longer speak to me, no longer look at me and you come to see me only when you are lacking!" You start to raise the tone

He grabs the back of your head and puts his hand on your mouth to silence you "I swear to God, if Wheezie or Rose gets up to see what’s going on, I’ll kill you." He says eyes filled with hate.

You are afraid and begin to tremble even more, panic takes you, and that he understands quickly. Your eyes are flooded with water making your vision blurred.

He lets go and goes back to sleep. You lie next to him and keep crying in silence, you miss your family and if you had gone with the pogues, would you be happy?

______________________________________________

You didn’t sleep all night. When Rafe got up, you pretended to sleep. 

He brought you closer to him and hugged you before kissing you on top of your head. One of the rare times you felt like he still loved you.

When he left, you started crying again.

When you got up, you stayed until 10 am in bed, you had traces in the corners of your eyes and you had no desire to get up.

You did it anyway, you washed up, made up and came down, Wheez is with Ward, Rose has to drink and Rafe had to be in his office.

You went into the lobby where Rafe’s things are. You started looking for $30 in his wallet. "What are you doing?" You jump and freeze instantly.

Rafe had his arms crossed, he was standing behind you. You got up fast and he looked at you all the way up with a suspicious face.

"It’s none of your business." You say with a hint of annoyance. He frowns and grimaces. "So you’re stealing money from me and it’s none of my business?" " I wasn’t stealing from you-" He cuts you off and walks away from you. " It’s normal because I made sure I didn’t have any cash." He says it made sense.

You open your mouth in amazement, he thinks you’re a thief. "But maybe you’re looking for this?" He pulls out his credit card. You try to take it from him, but he put it in the air. "Tell me why you need it and I might give it to you?" he shrugs.

You lower your head and start playing with your hands. "I need it to buy a pregnancy test." You say to a barely audible voice. Rafe leans over you, he pulls your face up so it’s in front of yours. "Sorry I didn’t hear, you need it for?" his eyes shrinking.

"Rafe I need it to buy a pregnancy test." You say loud enough. Rafe freezes and gives you a bad look." I told you it was just stress, don’t get paranoid about it." He gets straight, turns his back on you and starts leaving.

You start following him, begging him to give you his card. "Rafe I just want to be sure! You understand that?" You say half crying. "I understand you love, just realize how miserable you look?" He says disgusted.

You stop talking and he goes on. "You tried to steal money from me, and then you tried to trick me into saying you want to take a pregnancy test but you really just want to steal me and then go find another guy, right?"

"You know it’s miserable what you’re doing, right?" He approaches you and you start crying, "it’s not that Ra-" "shhht" he gently puts his hand on your neck, he forces you to put you on tiptoe.

"If you try to betray me or even lie to me, I will not be as forgiving as before." He kisses you and you feel the tears running down your cheeks. He lets go and leaves.

Your crying is so intense that your breathing becomes unstable. Rose arrives in the living room and sees you, she puts her glass and runs towards you. She takes you directly in a hug. She tries to calm your breath and little by little she gets there.

Rose asks you what happened and you explain the situation to her. When you’re done, she leaves without telling you anything, she comes back with two $20 bills. "Buy yourself the best tests." That’s all she tells you.

You take them and take her one last time in your arms before leaving.

______________________________________________

You found a small grocery store, there were different types of tests. To be sure of the result, you took three and paid them.

At night when you came home, no one was expecting you. You went upstairs to the bathroom you share with Rafe and did a first test.

You waited 15 minutes, once it was over the result was ready. You took a deep breath and watched the test.

You thought your world was going to collapse under your feet, you were barely 18 years old and you were already expecting a child.

You threw the test in the trash and rushed to do another one. You waited another 15 minutes and again, it was positive.

How are you going to deal with a baby? You’re not sure if you survive here so how do you deal with a child?

You thought about trying to stay calm, for you one thing was certain, you had to tell Rafe. You took the test and with a little confidence you went to Rafe’s office.

You came in and Rafe was there, head in piles of paper with his computer next to him.

You put the test on the piles and he stopped writing. He raised his head and you tried to keep calm.

He looked at the test again and went into his chair. He looked at you and said nothing. "Where did you get the money?" He asked you looking into your eyes. "Rose." He shrugged his shoulders. Is that his reaction?

"That’s your reaction, don’t you have anything to say?" you ask, you start getting angry.

He looked at you with disdain. "I should have another one when you’re not going to keep it?" You frown. Who said you weren’t going to keep it. "I never said that," you say. "So you’re going to keep it?" he asks with irritation.

You start staring at the point, yes you want to keep it, but on the one hand you’re scared, and if you were a bad mother. You can’t think any more because Rafe is waiting for your answer, the longer it takes you to make him understand something you don’t want.

"Yes" Rafe seemed shocked. "No." He said.

You open your eyes wide. "I beg your pardon?"

"You’re not going to babysit this kid." He says like he’s the one who’s pregnant.

"I wouldn’t have an abortion." You say clearly, Rafe’s laughing. "You know you don’t have to, getting him adopted is a good option." He says it makes sense.

"There is no question of strangers taking my baby!" You scream, Rafe gets up from his chair. " Oh well? So who will do it, You? You don’t even have the means to do it? You don’t have a job and you live on the hook of your boyfriend who also owns the child."

You put your hands on your face. "So I live on your hooks?" You look at it before eyes full of hate. "What do you call that?" He asks you.

You shake your head and walk out of his office, slamming the door. You head to your room. Once inside you take the suitcase under the bed, open your wardrobe and start throwing your stuff in.

Rafe shows up in the room when you’re closing the suitcase. "What are you doing?" He says angry holding back not to scream. 

"I decide not to live on your hook anymore, so I’m out of here." You say then that tears flow at a crazy speed on your cheeks.

Rafe laughs nervously. "No." He says. You grab the suitcase and start walking out of the room. What you didn’t expect was for Rafe to grab you violently by your waist making you scream.

"Fucking let go of me!" you’re screaming." Shut the fuck up, you really think after everything I’ve done you’re gonna break down like that with my kid?" Rafe goes crazy.

He pushes you violently away from the door and you fall to the ground. I’ve been busting my ass giving you a dream life all this so you decide to fuck everyone up " he bends over and grabs your jaw firmly . " Go away" you scream, both hands start scratching his arm. He yells at you and throws all the worst insults in the world, and you cry and insult him.

You get cut off when someone knocks on the door asking to come in, Rafe lets go and you run into the bathroom. Rose talks to Rafe and gets even more upset.

Rose leaves and Rafe starts knocking at the door asking you to open it, the only thing he hears are your uncontrollable crying.

Rafe stayed at the door for more than an hour, you did not open to him because you knew two things, first, if you went out you would probably have forgiven him what he just did to you because you love him despite what he makes you live and secondly, You were paralyzed by the fear he gave you.

That night, you slept on the cold tile in the bathroom.

______________________________________________

Despite your love for Rafe, you had no desire to end up like Peterkin, so you waited.

You waited a few weeks for Rafe to forget everything that happened. Rafe had to leave a few days to see a potential buyer for the cross.

And thanks to that, you were able to run away. Rose of course helped you, she gave you money and paid you a boat ticket and a plane ticket. You couldn’t go back to the Outer Banks. Illinois seemed perfect. You never told Rafe, so how could He suspect anything?

______________________________________________

[PT3]

.

.

.

.

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM THE HUNGER GAMES *  assorted dialogue from the 2012 film, adjust as necessary

i think it's our tradition.

it's been the way we've been able to heal.

i think it's... something that knits us all together.

you were just dreaming.

they're not going to pick you.

try to go to sleep.

i just gotta go. but i'll be back. i love you.

what are you gonna do with that when you kill it?

i was gonna sell it.

now i have nothing.

what if everyone just stopped watching?

it's as simple as that.

i'm not laughing at you.

we could do it, you know? take off. live in the woods.

we wouldn't make it five miles.

i'm never having kids.

guess the odds aren't exactly in my favor.

you keep it. it's yours.

aww, look at you. you look beautiful.

wish i looked like you.

as long as you have it, nothing bad will happen to you, okay? i promise.

freedom has a cost.

this is how we remember our past. this is how we safeguard our future.

you're stronger than they are. you are.

they just want a good show. that's all they want.

whatever you do, don't let them starve.

you know if you don't want to talk, i understand. but i just don't think there's anything wrong with getting a little bit of help.

so when do we start?

know, in your heart, that there's nothing i can do to save you.

you made me spill my drink.

i think i'll go finish this in my room.

you'll freeze to death first.

can you pass the marmalade?

you really wanna know how to stay alive? you get people to like you.

are there any surprises that we can expect this year?

i'm sorry that this happened to you, and i'm here to help you in any way i can.

you're here to make me look pretty.

i'm gonna do something that they're gonna remember.

don't be afraid.

why don't you go clean yourselves up a little before dinner?

i didn't touch your knife!

i hear you can shoot.

i hope you noticed we have a serious situation.

loosen your corset and have a drink.

i thought they hated me.

don't you know how beautiful you look?

just be yourself. i'll be there the whole time.

i'm prepared, vicious, and i'm ready to go.

do you want to tell us about it?

do i smell like roses to you?

you don't talk to me, and then you say you have a crush on me?

he made you look desirable.

we are not star crossed lovers.

look for water. water's your new best friend.

give me your arm.

we need a signal, in case one of us gets held up.

if you can't scare them, give them something to root for.

everyone likes an underdog.

i'm not gonna leave you.

nobody's gonna find you in here.

we'll just get you some medicine.

i should have gone to you.

i remember the first time i saw you.

[name], you're not gonna risk your life for me. i'm not gonna let you.

now there's no way i'm letting you go.

go on. i'm dead anyway. i always was, right? i didn't know that until now.

it's the only thing i know how to do.

there has been a slight rule change.

one of us has to die.

i'm sorry it didn't go the way they planned.

i couldn't imagine life without him.

they must be very proud of you.

so what happens when we get back?

i don't want to forget.

[cosmohee]

remember that ᯓ 𝚜𝚖𝚐

SFW version of my fic posted on @heechwe .ᐟ

୨୧ pairing: song mingi x fem!reader ୨୧ word count: 4k ୨୧ genre: angst, slight fluff ୨୧ tags: exes(ish) au, "we're on a break" au, soft pining, miscommunication ୨୧ synopsis: A break is supposed to give you time to understand what you do and don't want. But what if Mingi has to come with everything that frustrates you about him, no exceptions? Can you make it work, or will you both succumb to the pressure of love not being enough? ⟢ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Beta'ed by my babes Booki @kwanisms, Tiya @gyubakeries, and Ally @lovetaroandtaemin, I love you all so much. Also song title inspiration from LANY!

There are many valid pieces of evidence to support the argument that breaks never work. Friends, family, and perfect strangers remind you, solicited or not, why minor blips of time meant to think things through are simply an excuse, leading to the demise of a relationship.

“Don’t be chickenshit,” your best friend Karina remarked when you told her you were officially taking some time apart from Mingi. He would stay back at the dorms while you both took the next two weeks to think about your future. He didn’t want to, but he had to respect your wishes if he wanted any chance to mend the fences that were broken. “You know what you want to do, so do it. Don’t hide behind a ‘break.’”

You weren’t hiding, not in the slightest. If anything, the past few days alone have given you time to breathe. To reflect on the things that have and haven’t been working in your relationship for the last year.

You work in the same industry, and yet you have kept the entirety of your coupled status under wraps from everyone, save for your intimate group of loved ones. It isn’t hard to hide when you work on almost ten guys’ hair and makeup, but it’s all too easy to let feelings impede upon your professionalism.

Mingi’s always been willing to give you everything, but he doesn’t always see the entire picture of your needs. Sometimes, you don't need him to rescue you, and his eagerness borders the line of smothering too much for your comfort.

And yet, running through the pros and cons doesn’t make you miss him any less.

You ache waking up alone, not feeling the rise and fall of his chest under your head or hearing the sounds of his gargantuan feet pattering around your apartment. It became his apartment too by association after the fifth month of dating, his belongings sitting in every nook and cranny of what used to be your solitary space. Now, without him, it feels too hollow, too reminiscent of what it was like before he came into your life.

Even drives without him are terrible, the usual cacophony of traffic more bearable when he’s by your side, singing along off-key to the music on the radio or to his playlists when he uses your car’s bluetooth.

His absence is everywhere, and where there’s freedom sits all the despair attached to his missing presence.

“It hurts!”

“It’s not gonna hurt if you just listen to me.” You try to move closer to Hongjoong’s eye with the pencil in your hand, but he whips his head away again before you can begin on his waterline. “I told you to look up and away from me. You’ll barely feel it!”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” Hongjoong pouts in the makeup chair, and you stifle a giggle that bubbles in your throat. Watching so many impeccable performers be terrified of makeup applicators is probably one highlight of your career so far, especially guys as intimidating to look at as the one in front of you.

Suddenly, you feel him enter the room. The instinctual pull between you and Mingi goes beyond logical bounds, the tether made of only the metaphysical. It reminds you, every time he walks into the same space you’re in, how your body wants to be nowhere but next to his. You hate it more now than you ever have before.

“Am I going next when he’s finished?” Mingi cuts through the sudden silence to ask, his timbre a tad hollow but somehow still hopeful. You haven’t spoken for three days. This past weekend is the longest you’ve ever gone without communicating with each other. You can tell just from the sound of his voice it’s taken a toll on him.

You don’t turn to face him directly, finding some confidence from not having to look at the face you love so much head-on. “Seonghwa is, but he’s off getting his shirt hemmed, I think.”

“Just be patient, man.” Hongjoong winks at his younger friend. You thwack Hongjoong on the cheek with your eyeshadow brush, making the humored expression on his face dissipate.

“Did I say you have to talk when you’re getting your face done?” Hongjoong shakes his head with terrified eyes. “Exactly.”

You go back to your kit, but you feel despondence creep up your neck at the small quantity of black and neutral eyeshadow you have left. “Fuck it, we’ll just have to make do with the eyeliner right now.”

“Can’t you grab some from Mina’s kit? She probably won’t mind.”

You shake your head and go back to the pencil you dropped on the vanity when Mingi walked in. “I’ll just grab some more from the store later.”

“I can pick up some now if you need me to.” Mingi pipes up again, more hope seeping through his words. Sometimes, his overwhelmingly helpful nature makes you think he'd be reincarnated as a big puppy in the next life.

You finally face him with a soft smile, and you see the corners of his eyes crinkle up at your expression. “It’s okay, Min, really. Nothing I can’t handle.”

This is exactly why you needed space from Mingi. Staring into his big, brown eyes that make your body even a fraction weaker than before is why you can’t think through things properly around him. He takes all the logic and reason out of you, leaving you only to listen to the workings of your heart. And such an effect makes it simple to forget the myriad of minor problems that became so big you could not suppress them any more.

As he smiles at you, you repeat the words in your head like a mantra: he doesn’t listen, he’s too reckless, he acts on impulse half the time…

Seonghwa walks in and exclaims, “Okay, I think the shirt fits finally!” He looks between you and Mingi and then stares at Hongjoong with a curious fluff of his eyebrows. “What’s up with them?” He mouths to his friend.

Hongjoong can only shrug, the expression basically stating “Who knows anymore man?” without verbal support.

The longer you lock eyes with Mingi, the other men in the room long forgotten, you wonder if all you’re doing during this break is delaying the inevitable.

You took copious snapshots of the boys’ last looks before they had to practice on the stage. The sweat would ruin what you worked on for hours, so it was crucial to catalog it for your portfolio before that could happen.

Now, you watch them work through the three songs’ choreography with ease. Mingi takes center stage multiple times, and you smile to yourself at how ridiculous he acted an hour prior when he was in your chair, so busy complimenting you that you could barely get through doing his makeup.

“You look really pretty today,” he says as you dab the bridge of his nose with liquid highlighter. “I mean, you always do, but I haven’t seen you in a few days, so…”

You smirk and put the tub back in your makeup kit. “Making up for lost time, Min?”

Mingi blushes, a shade so pink you think you can skip putting that component of his makeup on altogether. “Just stating the obvious.”

“You don’t know,” you say, “I may have looked like shit in my sweatpants and ratty t-shirts all weekend.”

“Wanna know a secret?” You humor him, moving closer until his lips brush the shell of your ear, making you shudder. “That’s when you look the most beautiful to me.”

You retreat with trembling hands and a breathless laugh. “Are you gonna keep spitting game or can I finish your eyes now?”

Mingi smirks and snaps his eyes shut, pressing his face as close as he can to yours once again. He whispers with such a quiet but sultry tone, you think you may risk it all and kiss him once to get it out of your system. “Do whatever you want with me.”

And here you are, back in his orbit like he’s the sun and you’re a planet, willing to spin around him forever. A few weeks ago, you didn’t mind doing so until it made you dizzy, but you don’t know now if you miss depending so much on him. His “I got this, babe” one minute and “I can handle it” the next slowly made you realize he either didn’t trust you to work through anything without his help or he was so willing he couldn’t see how it came across. 

Bringing it to his attention didn’t make him any wiser to the problem, his response defensive rather than introspective. He argued it was in any boyfriend’s nature to want to do everything for their girlfriend. “Don’t you do the same for me? What’s the difference?” He asked in the fight's haste that led to your desire to take a breather from each other.

Flitting the memories away, you focus on Mingi’s undeniably enchanting dancing and rapping. It’s what reminds you why you fell for him in the first place, both his talent and work ethic, which gave way to everything else that turned you into putty for him. 

Before the group can finish the last song, a courier taps on your shoulder. “For you, miss.” He holds out a bag from the makeup store downtown, the contents inside being all that is low in your kit.

“I didn’t order anything,” you respond, fighting the only logical answer and culprit of the situation. The kid shrugs and makes his way out of the building, and you turn back to Mingi, the giant lost in his choreography. You feel your eyes light with fire rather than fuzziness, your desires and impulses from before long gone.

When he drops from the stage and makes it to the back, you slam the bag into his chest before walking away. “Wait! You said you needed this stuff!” Mingi trails behind quickly, his long legs catching up to you in seconds.

You turn when you’re alone in the hallway, your fury unleashed. “I said I could do it after work, and you went over my head again to do something I deliberately said you didn’t have to do!” Your bottom lip trembles. “Do you not care about listening to me at all?”

“What? No!” He shakes his head, his own face becoming a mask of confused anger. “I just wanted to help. And it’s just twenty bucks of makeup. Why is this such an issue right now?”

“Because I didn’t ask for your help!” You throw your hands in the air, and the gesture only makes you feel smaller.

Mingi chuckles, no humor in the sound. “You always take things on by yourself, even before we started dating. Is it so terrible of me for wanting to help, just a little?” He practically pinches his index and thumb together to emphasize his point.

“They’re my burdens to bear,” you scream. “Is it so hard to get in your head? I’m not some princess in a tower you need to save.”

“Why do you always treat someone else’s help like it’s a grandiose gesture you should feel guilty for?” He steps closer, your chests barely a breath apart. “I help you because I want to, because you deserve it and because I love you. Why can’t you stop pushing me and others away who want to make things easier on you?”

The words get stuck in your mouth, no sounds coming out in a response that makes sense or can answer his questions properly. A tear escapes your eye, falling hot on your cheek. Mingi tries to wipe it away, but you whip your head out of his direction and rub your face with your palm.

San comes from the exit you both walked out of and looks on with concern. “You guys alright?”

You shake your head and walk past them both, your heart in knots too tough to untangle today.

You clip the buckle on your heels as you continue to hold your phone’s receiver to your ear, the sun setting as you make haste to end the call and head out the door. “Woo, for the last time, you should know where I’m going by now. I thought we were friends before I started dating one of your best friends.”

“You are, but you could be playing coy, I don’t know!” Wooyoung remarks, making you laugh. You haven’t seen the kid since Monday when you walked away from the show, not having time to say goodbye to him before you made your way home.

You always spend Thursday nights with your parents for dinner. Your immediate family decided long ago to make time out of all of your busy schedules for weekly briefings and small talk over home-cooked food. It was one of the few times you found peace in the hectic nature of everyday life.

“Trust me—and you can let our mutual friend know—just the same usual Thursday plans.” You hear a knock at the door and rush to get off the phone even faster, wondering who could be outside your home so close to the evening. “I gotta go, talk to you soon.”

You iron out the wrinkles of your dress before heading to your apartment door. The man on the other side steals your breath in his white button down and denim jeans combo. He completes the ensemble with his thick-framed glasses and his hair, tousled just a touch, exactly how you like it. His fashion choices on nights like this still stun you to no end, even if you’re surprised he’s here tonight at all.

“M-Mingi,” you say. “What are—“

“I wouldn’t miss family dinner, together or not.” He clears his throat and puts his hand out, clearly eager for you to take it. “If you’ll still have me there, I mean.”

You fight the smile tugging at your cheeks and instead take a deep breath and his palm in yours. Your fingers interlace, and it reminds you more of home than the entire 900-square foot apartment behind you. “Just because you made such an effort to look so nice. It’d be a waste, you know?”

Mingi smiles and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose with his other hand. He smiles to himself the entire time you lock your door and head down the stairwell, not letting go of your hand once.

You don’t say no when he offers to drive, or stop him from holding your door open until you get in, and he thinks that maybe you’re turning a corner after he slipped up. And you think you might just give into him for the sheer fact being in a car again with him, listening to his off-key riffs, reminds you of everything you’ve been missing, for better or worse.

“Honey! Mingi! Come in,” your mother beckons you at the front door. She welcomes you inside wearing her signature floral apron, though your father and brother do most of the cooking.

Neither you nor your mother expected Mingi to bring flowers to tonight’s dinner. You didn’t expect him to invite himself at all, but thinking about it, it would be weird for him not to attend when your family did not know you were on a relationship hiatus.

This Thursday holds no more significance than all the others, but it warms your heart to see your mother grab a vase from the living room to hold the batch of tulips Mingi brought.

“Sometimes I think my own husband forgets my favorite flowers. But not you, my sweet boy.” Your mother pinches Mingi’s cheek, and Mingi blushes a shade of plum at the physical touch.

“Speaking of him, does he need help in the back? I know the grill can be a pain for him and Eric to get going,” Mingi offers.

“That would be wonderful, Mingi, thank you.” You smile at Mingi as he leaves you two to walk towards the back porch. He greets your father with a handshake and your little brother with a manly hug, and any residual anger you felt over the past few days instantly dissipates.

He’s always been a caring person. You knew this the second he brought a spare pack of bandaids on your second date when you slipped and fell on your knee during your first. Sometimes, as you’ve grown to learn, he seems to have a hard time hearing when his help isn’t necessary. Or the exact help he envisions isn’t the help you desire.

“That boy is one in a million, baby.” Your mother says as you walk to the kitchen together. “I can’t picture someone better to take care of you.”

You sigh. “Who says I need to be taken care of, Mom?”

She shakes her head with a grin as she keeps stirring the soup on the stove. “Everyone needs someone, my love. Even when a person is adamant about fighting their own battles like you.”

“That’s not what I mean,” you huff, exasperated. “All I’m saying is that I can have someone by my side and not be wrong for wanting to do things on my own in my way, right?”

Her head continues to move back and forth, her ladle going in the same fashion. “And all I’ll say, baby, is that it’s important to let someone know those things. If you don’t tell someone what you’re looking for, they’ll make assumptions. And you know how we all feel about those.”

“They make an ass out of you and me,” Eric pipes up from behind you, making you flinch. You thwack him on the arm, and he rubs the spot with a pout. Your father and Mingi gather in the kitchen behind your brother, the simmering steaks on a large plate smelling delectable.

“Time to eat, everyone!”

Before you all can head to the table, Mingi pulls you in and whispers, “The right one is yours. Medium rare, how you like it.”

He leaves you standing alone as he sits next to your brother. Your heart resides in your throat the rest of the night, sitting beside Mingi and your mother and wondering if maybe a part of you hasn’t given credit to Mingi in the way he deserves. Maybe you both have been wrong in your own ways, and it’s still fixable.

Maybe this break is serving a purpose in a way you didn’t expect.

The drive back to your apartment is quiet, but it’s charged with tension from the way Mingi rubs patterns into the back of your hand with his thumb. Both of your palms rest over your thigh, the muscle on fire from how his large fingers encompass yours and hover over the fabric of your dress.

Now is not the time for sexual frustration. It’s time to talk and see if the break can be amended into some form of peace treaty.

He parks his car in the lot and looks over at you with a small grin, close-mouthed but earnest all the same. “Tonight was fun. Glad to hear Eric’s doing good in school.”

You smile back. “My parents were happy to see you. They thought with the comeback coming up you wouldn’t be able to make it tonight.”

“I wouldn’t miss it. I told you that.”

Your throat is in a mess of knots once again as you nod. You turn in your seat to face him head on, and Mingi mirrors your body posture. Removing his palm from your thigh, you hold it in both of your hands, finding some strength to let the words come out. “We need to talk.”

Mingi’s eyes go wide immediately, inching as close as he can to you despite the ridiculously large glove box in his way. “If this is the start of that conversation, please—“

“No, no! I’m sorry,” you say immediately. “I shouldn’t have started with that.”

His free hand goes over his chest, and the relief floods over his entire expression. “You really can scare the shit out of a guy, you know that right?”

“I said I’m sorry,” you respond with a teasing pout. “But, I think I’ve been terrible at communicating what I need from you and from this relationship.”

Mingi thinks the words over before he nods slowly. “Okay.”

You inhale again, taking in a deeper breath. “First, I apologize for not being transparent. I should’ve said that I’m not exactly the greatest at getting help, not just from you. And my expectations couldn’t have been met if I didn’t tell you what they were, and I’m sorry for that.”

Mingi nods with ease, almost like he’s shrugging it off entirely, like there was nothing to apologize for. 

You continue, your confidence in your speech building. “I love the big and little things you do for me, and I’ve always appreciated your willingness to be there no matter the time of day for those you care about. For my family, for the guys—even for a random person on the goddamn sidewalk.”

You feel tears pooling in your eyes. “But, I need you to listen when I tell you there are some things that you can’t help me with, or that I don’t need your help for. And taking my opinion and listening doesn’t mean you’re not doing your best as a boyfriend. The opposite, actually.”

You see words on Mingi’s tongue threatening to spill out, and you give him the clear to say them. “I guess I just don’t know how to show you I’m here for you otherwise.”

“You’ve always shown me that, Min,” you respond instantly, not wanting him to doubt himself or his capabilities as a partner. “All I want is for you to be by my side, even if I’m struggling with things, and if you can understand that I’ll ask for your help when I need it moving forward, I think we’ll be okay. Okay?” You kiss his palm in between your own hands, and you tuck it under your chin.

Mingi smiles and puts his other hand on your thigh, rubbing the skin through the material of your dress. “Does this mean that I have to go back to that store and get a refund for the makeup I bought?”

You laugh, the sound coated with happiness, and shake your head again. “No. Why let all that good eyeshadow go to waste, right?”

Mingi chuckles, full of vigor. “Right.” He leans across the box between you, your lips an inch away from his. “And does this mean I can kiss you now?”

You quirk an eyebrow and smirk. “If you know what’s good for you, Song Mingi.”

His lips press to yours, quick and hard, and you swear you hear the clack of your teeth against his the second they collide. You don’t care, though. The feelings that accompany the kiss are all-encompassing; the pain from being apart for days, the tension from the entire night between you like a knife ready to strike down, the love that’s always been there even when you both were apart.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” Mingi confesses. His yearning pours out via his kisses, all the things he hasn’t been able to say in the past week leaving his body with each caress. They go everywhere along your face, until he plants another on your lips, his smile breaking through it. It’s softer than all the other ones you’ve received from him in the past few minutes. “I love you.”

You know he means it every time he says it. Yet, somehow, with a newfound understanding of your shared wants and needs, and a promise for the future to be better than the past, this time he says it feels sweeter than it ever has. And when you say you love him back, you mean it even more.

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