#that's right despairing is Truly the worst of them all!!!!

[burningcheese-merchant]

Abt burning spice's kingdom interaction with nutmeg tiger when he says "this place it reminds me of the first kingdom i..." do you think he destroyed that kingdom? Or built it?

The fact that he shows regret and hesitation in that line is interesting...

Do you think he became what he is because he doesn't have anything left to lose?

This can perfectly foils Golden cheese's story, even after her kingdom got destroyed she eventually embraces that fact and process that emotions healthily

Sorry im just yapping here, i love me two character that perfectly foils each other while being more similiar than enyone else and form a weird ahh relationship balancing between romantic or wanting to kill each other

-🌾anon

I'm going to go ahead and say both. I think he built it AND destroyed it. In fact, I'm going to go a step further and specify that he accidentally destroyed it while trying to defend it from some invading force, thus making this the first real step down that dark path. Think of it: in a mad frenzy to protect something he loved, he destroyed it instead. He unwittingly became what he was fighting against, if only for a moment - and that moment would set many things in motion, each more terrible than the last, for not only has Burning Spice now come to truly know the bitter taste of loss and history's seemingly futile nature, it came to him in perhaps the worst way possible, and so left the most lasting impression. (Idk if what I tried to cook here came out of the oven right, but there was an attempt lol)

I 100% agree with the idea that Spice became who and what he is after succumbing to despair in the face of seemingly unending loss (I go into detail about it here, this is how I personally headcanon his descent into villainy), and that there is still a lingering sense of regret somewhere inside of his heart, even if small and not strong enough to influence him anymore. That dialogue he has with Nutmeg Tiger is what pushed me to want to analyze him and construct a possible background and motive for him, and later what inspired me to want to redeem not only him, but all five of the Beasts. The fact that he might have regrets is very interesting and very promising to me, and lends itself to the idea that, with time and the right guidance, he could perhaps... change (to keep with the theme haha).

And I also agree with you on him and Golden Cheese being perfect foils for one another (it's part of why I ship them so hard lol). They mirror each other SO well in my eyes. And in the face of the same exact loss, one folded while the other stood strong (although you can say that GC folded as well, at least for a while, before she realized the folly in her delusional grief and collected herself). Nothing lasts forever, that's true, but that doesn't make it meaningless - quite the opposite. It is the ephemeral nature of life that makes it beautiful and worthwhile. It's alright to be upset when something ends, but you can't let that define you. Everything ends eventually. Focus less on what's far ahead or what's far behind and focus more on what's in front of you right now. That's the lesson GC more or less learns, and it's the lesson BS needs to learn too, in my opinion. And I honestly think GC is the right one to help teach him that.

Sorry, I sort of spoiled the "Change" arc in my Reformed Beasts AU a little bit here lol. You really hit the nail on the head with your thoughts here and it prompted me to puke this word salad. Great minds lol

[ahogedetective]

"Ah?" Even if all Nagito said was 'so', Shuichi still looks up at him in light surprise. But he knew he wasn't wrong: in the end, no matter how Shuichi thought of it, that man still did commit a crime, and rightfully had to be brought to justice for it... "Oh. W...Well..." He drifts off, gaze lowering back to the floor. He always downplays his skills back then, as just 'happening' to solve the case before the police did... but who was to say that the police would have been able to do so, even if he didn't solve it that fast? It was not at all a simple case. He had even become pretty well known, because of it. Had Shuichi not solved it, himself: then who knows if it would have gotten solved on that day... if at all. He truly may have been the only one who could have done so...

"Hm...?" His eyes glance towards Nagito. He silently listens to him give his train of thought of how he sees it. "Ah..." A soft gasp leaves him, eyes slightly growing wide. "Plenty of time to mourn and process what he did.... since he's locked away...." It seemed like a pretty reasonable way to think about the situation and yet; Shuichi never found himself thinking about it like that. His mind was always so clouded with guilt, for placing the man who didn't even have time to mourn or grieve, right into prison.. that it never hit him that prison, would technically give him all the time in the world to fully process what he's done....

".....Well....when you...put it that way... I-I suppose you're not wrong. Sure, maybe the worst place you could be in to mourn someone you've lost, but... it does give him all the time in the world to process what he did. I can only hope he's come to realize by now, that he shouldn't have let his emotions drive him to murder. And...safe from the outside world? And at the same time, the outside world being safe from him... as in he won't have a chance to murder anyone, again... or be murdered, himself? By a family member of the victim?" Almost like a twisted pattern of continuous revenge... He'll never know what kind of person the killer truly was, if he was someone who would usually never murder, or if it wasn't exactly a last resort option, but: if him being in prison meant others were safe from him, or if he was the one safe from others, then maybe... Shuichi doesn't have to feel like he's the horrible one....

"...Thinking about it that way... does kind of help. In my mind, I always thought... was I taking the victim's side, by having that man apprehended? I know a detective shouldn't think like that, but at that time, the way he looked at me. It... it terrified me so much. Made me feel like the monster, there. But... but I know that, if I keep letting it haunt me, it will only hinder my process in trying to believe in myself and my skills, more. S-So... thank you, for trying to cheer me up, Komaeda-senpai. I'm sorry you even have to try talking some sense into me..."

                     ‶  so?  ″ his head tilts slightly, the question spoken very softly. komaeda didn't see how that mattered — he understood the idea of grieving the loss of a love one on an objective level, but he also knew from experience you couldn't let that drag you down. when you lose people left and right on a whim, you tend to stop being able to process the deaths of others in an appropriate manner.  ‶  he still committed a crime. — if you didn't apprehend him, who would've?  ″

                     a man so overcome with despair that he would kill over it. that was unforgivable in komaeda's eyes. but even more so... to bring saihara down like this so long after the fact — to make an ultimate so self conscious of their talent — that was just heartbreaking to the fanatic.

                     ‶  hm... okay, well why not think about it like this?  ″ he raises his finger, an attempt at a reassuring smile on his face.  ‶  now that he's locked away he should have plenty of time to mourn and process what he did. no one can disturb him now, right? not only is the world safe from him... but wouldn't you say he's safe from the outside world?  ″

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

you know what's delicious? yn who started wearing flavored lip balm/lip tint because of suguru — so that every time suguru ate a curse, he could just easily pull the man into a kiss to get rid of the disgusting taste suguru hates so much ((bonus points if yn also pops in a candy/sweet/chocolate in his mouth before feeding it to suguru through a kiss — anything to help suguru forget the taste of curses)) yeah... just... suguruyn for the win man 😋🫶

((even more bonus points when satoru finds out later and he gets all jelly because 1. he doesn't know the lip balm/lip tint can come with a flavor so he felt blindsided and of course, he humphs and puffs because of it and 2. he wanted a chocolatey sweetness kissies too!!!! and of course lastly, 3. he felt left out because he never knows that suguruyn always makes out every single time suguru ate a curse so he's all pouty about it — ask him to join in next time!!!))

❝ He's just like candy, he's so sweet ❞

polycule (Satoru x r! x Suguru)) | alternate universes (Suguru is not a cult-reader), fluff, NSFW | vers. bottom. reader (AMAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 3.6k

warnings: foodplay, threesomes, pouty satoru & smug suguru, semi-public sex, d/s dynamics

masterlist; part 1; part 2; part 3; alternate ending; playlist; au's and what if's

author's note: in this au, they slayed the links that made me lose my mind (thank you @xuxitheii for making me squeal and kick my feet): geto suguru : gojo satoru : gojo satoru being a big baby

Curses. Ugly as sin and tastes just as foul. Suguru remembers the first time he discovered he could devour them; how awful it felt as it went down his throat, bulging out and staying there — blocking his airway as he struggled to find it in himself to swallow.

The way his teeth ached. His throat convulsed and his instincts forced it back up but his fingers blocked it from doing so. It warbled in the back of his mouth, begging to be let out and 7-year-old Suguru just knew he couldn’t bear for it to disturb him again. He couldn’t handle it speaking nonsensically into his ear, slinking under his bed or even staring right at him as it grinned so wide Suguru swore he could see his reflection in its yellow, wicked-sharp, teeth.

The pills his parents (his poor, non-sorcerer, parents) had given him to help with his “hallucinations” made him feel as though a thick fog was obscuring his brain. His thoughts faded and his movement groggy, his emotions caged while his body still felt the anxious tremors that ran through him when he saw them.

The curses made him feel like he was constantly in a deep pit of despair. Everything wrong in the world, the depravity and impulses of humanity that manifested into these grotesque creatures in the palm of his hands made his nose sting, till this day, as an 18-year-old; it made his eyes well with tears.

Suguru can't describe it in a way people could understand. But if asked, he’d used the viscera of a vomit rag being forced down your throat.

But the strong protect the weak. While your lips protect them from his ire. This one goes down with a loud gulp, his fingers blocking his lips as he tosses his head back. The worst is almost over, the aftertaste will linger but not for long. Because then, he feels your weight on his chest and Suguru is pliant as you gently pry his fingers away.

“You did a good job, baby.” Suguru flutters his eyes open and he can’t help the way his lips twitch eagerly. Your lips are glossier than usual, he can smell the cherry flavour on them. His hands wrap themselves around your waist. It’s a firm grip.

Mine, he says without speaking, mine — all mine.

He pulls and a huff of air escapes you in a series of chuckles. “I know we haven’t been out in a while, but did you miss me that much, Su-Su?” Suguru frowns at your jest. It’s rare for him to pout. That role is often delegated to your boyfriend, Satoru. So this must truly upset him.

Because, yes, he did.

You’d been called overseas to complete a mission. It was the norm for sorcerers considering the population of sorcerers in Japan; outsourcing they called it. Your curse technique was needed for this mission and truly, it didn’t take long but Suguru had done solo missions and he missed you.

Three solo missions. Three disgusting, dog-shit, vomit-stained rags, down his throat. Three days without you by his side.

He hated it.

“Don’t ask a silly question like that ever again,” he mumbles. Silly. The way he scolds you always makes you smile. Never crass or rude — his voice reminds you of the symphony of leaves singing with the wind as they danced and speckled light onto the forest floors and cool water bubbling over rocks.

“Why? Why can’t I ask silly questions?” You tease, placing your elbows on his shoulder and hanging your hands behind him. Purposefully lax despite the coquettish smile on your face.

“You already know the answer.” He speaks with such sincerity. Every word is heavy with nothing but candour and adoration. It makes your eyes soften and Suguru squeezes you closer.

“I do?” He nods at your words, the tip of his nose brushing over yours and his tan skin so flushed on the apples of his cheeks.

“Kiss me like you miss me, baby.”

Suguru’s lips land on yours like a feather. Supple as always he begins it with a long-lasting peck. Pouty lip against pouty lip. His hands climb up your back and he presses between your shoulder blades to somehow hold you closer; his jaw opens and yours does the same. There it is — that heaven that’s your mouth. Suguru groans and you feel his tongue sneaking in, devouring you like a starved man.

The cherry flavour on your lips, the sweetness of the candy you let melt on your tongue, the way your fingers grip his hair, the way he can feel your breath on his cheek as you try to breathe. He wishes that the two of you never needed air. Suguru wants nothing more than to kiss you forever and ever and ever —

“Hey!”

You part with a gasp, cheeks warm and lips almost bruised as the line of spit between the two of you breaks. At the mouth of the alleyway was your boyfriend; Gojo Satoru.

His arms are crossed and he taps his foot in a cartoonish fashion. Despite that, both of you know that the frown on his face is very much real. “What gives? I exorcised the other curses and I came back to the two of you making out. So unfair!”

Suguru parts with a sigh, rolling his eyes to the side and pouting his lips to the side as he muttered about Satoru having FOMO. It makes you giggle and he smiles when you lean forward to place your face right under his jaw.

“S’toru, you’re being a baby. Suguru did a lot of work and I was just thanking him.” Satoru unfolds his arms and flaps them around in protest.

“I did work too!”

And it has begun — Satoru’s famous little tantrums. Oh, he could go for a full hour if he was really worked up but there is a saving grace in him having them. He closes his eyes when he’s yappering. Suguru is listening to his huffy boyfriend but then you kiss his chin and he tilts his face down to look at you.

“Hm?” your teeth brush over his lower lips, then plant firmly on his. “Baby?” he smiles in the lip-locking and you whine about it because his lips should not stretch into that handsome smile, they should be pursed outward and part to let you in.

He tastes chocolate on your tongue. The creaminess of the chocolate makes him groan along with the citrusy notes. That combined with the fruitiness of the cherry tint on your lips makes the taste of the curses he’d ingested (exorcised) all but disappear. Your hands climb to the lobe of his ears and his breath hitches when your fingers trail the curve of it, he protests a bit as you undo his bun; then you whisper his name and Suguru tightens his grip on your waist.

“Hey!”

Satoru is whining again but this time he’s closer. Close enough for Suguru to grab a fistful of Satoru’s white button-up and pull him in. As his face turns you giggle, wiping away some smeared gloss as you watch Satoru turn red from Suguru’s heated kiss.

Satoru groans with his eyebrows twitching. Listless in his attempt to remain angry at Suguru. He pounds his fist against Suguru’s shoulder and attempts to crane his neck away. When he turns, he gasps as you steal his breath.

Satoru’s graceful legs tumble over themselves as his boyfriends press him to the rough wall of the alleyway. There’s a constant hum of an A/C machine and the noises from the pipes keep the intimate noises between the three of you contained. Suguru’s blunt nails drag onto the faded plastered-on advertisements — yours grip onto the bars of the window that had been covered up by old newspapers.

Satoru’s grip onto the front of both of your shirts. His glasses go askew as he struggles to keep up with his boyfriends. Suguru misses Satoru so much. He’d been away too, the Higher Ups sending him overseas at the same time as you and Shoko had to deal with a depressed Suguru for those 3 days.

“Mah, Satoru,” you drag your lips to Satoru’s sensitive neck. His hands don’t seem to know what to do with themselves. It grips and pushes and stutters. “I always give Suguru special kisses after a job well done, you’ve just always been too busy to notice.”

“S’not fair,” Satoru retorts with no real venom in his words. “I deserve special kisses too, don’t I?” Suguru chuckles, forcing Satoru to look his way and shut him up. Satoru glares over the rim of his crooked glasses as Suguru’s thumb presses down on his canines.

“What a jealous brat.”

“Can’t even handle a little teasing.”

Satoru would heavily disagree with that. A little teasing? You called being pushed to a wall, groped, kissed, and bitten by your handsome and powerful boyfriends a little teasing?

Satoru was a sign of change, his birth instantly tipped the scales of the sorcerer world, but he was still human!

Suguru grins that irritatingly pleased grin when Satoru’s protests die out thanks to your hands slipping down his pants. “Oh shit,” he hisses. His speech is odd with Suguru’s thumb in his mouth, casually inspecting it. But you laugh anyway.

“You know, since he has been away too, maybe he does deserve a bit of sugar from you, (Y/N).” You glance at Suguru, your cock chubbing up in your pants as he pointedly motions his gaze to the ground. You kneel in front of Satoru and drool slips down his chin as his pupils chase after you. Suguru chuckles, wiping it away and wiping it off on Satoru’s shirt — to which he hears no complaint. Suguru stands behind you, bending at his waist to peer down. It’s unfair how pretty he is from any angle. The Gods took their time making him. Of that, you are certain.

“Ready, sweetheart?” you nod, opening your saccharine-sweet mouth; Suguru pats your cheek as praise and undoes Satoru’s pants for you. His cock springs out, nearly bumping into your nose as it strains and twitches in the open air. When Suguru holds it, Satoru grunts and raises his hips. Fucking into his fist like a dog in heat. Suguru regards this with a shake of his head and guides Satoru to your mouth. You form a fist around your thumb, looking up at Satoru through your lashes as you wrap your lips around him.

Suguru straightens his composure. He takes in the sight.

Satoru and you know better than to be handsy. The pale-haired man grabs onto the bars of the window behind him, breathing through his nose as the toe of his shoes dig into the floors. You slip your eyelids close and languish in the taste of Satoru’s cock — breathing through your nose as well as you bob your head.

Fuck, Suguru missed this. He really did. He could get off on this alone. Just watched as both of you enjoyed the other. His darling boyfriends, who so obediently listen to his whims even if he didn’t say it out loud.

Who could ask for more?

Suguru strokes over your eyebrow and barely stifles a laugh when you tilt your head so Satoru’s tip pokes your cheeks.

“Good boy. My sweet boy.”

His voice alone makes you want to give in to whatever it is he asks of you — it’s insane how much power and sway he has. Your charming Suguru.

Satoru moans, swiftly reaching out and gripping onto the collar of Suguru’s top. They kiss. Fighting for dominance because Satoru needs to be pushed into submission. He relishes being put in his place — smacked around a little.

You could pinpoint this kink originating from his frivolous childhood and naturally talented self needing some sort of edge to sink down into a more fuzzy headspace.

Or perhaps Satoru was just a brat and he trusted his lovers enough to relinquish that control. Both theories worked.

Suguru grunts as Satoru tugs at his hair, the pleasant tinge of pain making his dick strain against his loose pants. You spot it from the corner of your eyes, an obscene slurping sound coming from you as you attempt to not make this blowjob too messy. An impossible task, really. But a worthy effort.

“Your lips taste like cherry, why?” Satoru’s question catches Suguru off-guard. He expected Satoru’s usual quips and huffiness. He indulges.

“(Y/N) wore cherry-flavoured lipgloss.”

The proof is in the coloured streaks on his dick. You feel it twitch on your tongue and pull away, your hot breath on his cockhead making precum leak out of his blushing tip. You rest it on your velvet tongue, unabashedly pouting to kiss the tip and then taking him inside again. Those slightly shimmery streaks made Satoru grit his teeth.

“I didn’t know those came in flavours,” Satoru moans. “How come you don’t wear that for me too?”

“Because it’s for me, you little shithead,” Suguru growls lowly. Their foreheads touch as he tightens his grip on Satoru’s neck, the pressure making Satoru’s eyelids flutter for a second. “It’s my prize for exorcising curses.”

“You jealous?” you wonder out loud. The answer was clear but there was a rush to make Satoru admit it.

“Yes, I am!” He curses for a moment as you descend further down to lick at his balls, looking up at him still as if this conversation was taking place over a dinner table and not in an alleyway with society just a few meters away. As if his dick wasn't on your face while you feel his balls tightening up on your tongue.

Seriously, if somebody peered down long enough they would most definitely catch sight of the three of you here.

“I just – just...fuck, I missed the two of you too. It’s completely unfair you’ve been keeping this from me too! I’ll never forgive you.”

Suguru grabs the back of your neck and pulls you backward. His large hands effectively push your head down further and further until your nose is at the neat patch of pubic hair Satoru has. You relax your throat and jaw, eyes watering while you brace your hands on Satoru’s thighs.

“So why didn’t you just tell us that, darling?" Suguru purrs. "Instead, you chose to be a brat and stomp around. You’re better than that, Satoru. Aren’t you? Hm?”

You gag but Suguru holds you in place. His hand barely has any real strength behind it. If you jerked backward, he would not hold you in place. No, no. Suguru’s power comes from the lack of strength he needs to exhibit. His dominance is in the ease Suguru commands it.

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. You needed him inside of you.

“Screw you, Suguru,” Satoru chokes out.

He pulls you off. You cough, spit staining your chin as you smile loosely at them. Suguru then pulls you onto your feet, pushes you to the wall, and undoes your pants. You bite down on your lower lip, staring at Satoru as you brace your hands onto the wall just next to him. Satoru watches on, trying to keep himself strong by pretending he isn’t affected by the sight before him.

Suguru gathers spit in his mouth but pauses as he feels the candy wrapper in your pockets. The chocolate brand makes his brows raise. It’s expensive. No doubt Satoru’s influence had rubbed off on you. Only one company in the world made this chocolate, its pink colour is a dead giveaway. No wonder your cherry-flavoured gloss tasted so strong, it was complimented nicely by the leftover taste of this ruby chocolate.

He lets your pants pool around your ankles while he takes a bite. It wasn’t disgustingly soft, but your body heat made it melt quickly on his tongue. He spreads your ass apart and spits a thick glob of his spit and pink chocolate. The sensation sends shivers up your back and you arch your back further, unsure about the new sensation.

“Suguru, that was expensive — ngh!”

Your eyes widen as he presses his cock inside. You were thankful for your morning romp with them. It loosened you up enough that Suguru’s impatience didn’t cause pain and only mild discomfort — he reaches forward to jerk your cock off to ebb it away and you moan out his name.

“Shh, shh, not so loud. We’re still outside, baby.”

Satoru groans, reaching to toss his glasses away as he turns his back to the entrance and gives you his full attention. He’s craving touch. To taste or to mark you up. To do anything, really. He is goddamn hypnotized by the way Suguru’s dick thrusts in and out of you. Suguru gives you a good fucking for too short of a time — pounding into you like a jackhammer and making you nearly bite your tongue off in an attempt to keep quiet before he pulls out.

Your knees buckle, thighs twitching as you try to keep yourself upright. Satoru’s knees thud onto the floor and he greedily laps at Suguru’s cock, moaning at the creamy taste. The same flavour leaks out of you while you catch your breath. The mouth of the alleyway is quiet but there are still the faint noises of the city just there. A few big strides away. But there. It excites you. You imagine it’s exciting your equally perverted boyfriends too.

"Satoru," Suguru groans at the sight of him. You peel yourself from the wall. Shoulders thudding onto the hard surface while your pants drop to your ankles. Shakily, you use your feet to push it all the way off, eyes trained on Satoru savouring the flavour of Suguru and the ruby chocolate. He pulls away with a breathy 'pwah!' and strokes Suguru's creamy dick.

You're tempted to join Satoru. Just sharing Suguru's cock, kissing Satoru with his cockhead between your lips. Fuck, just the thought has your dick slapping lightly against your navel. Suguru plants a hand near your head, turning his head to kiss you while the other is tugging on the roots of Satoru's head. a

"Both of my boys are being so obedient," he says after a deliciously deep groan of Satoru's name. "We missed you," you reply in a whiny whisper.

"Missed you so much, S'guru..."

Satoru moans, pulling away as he catches his breath and shares a heated gaze.

"Fuck, I missed you so badly. Missed this dick too," Satoru turns to your crotch and kisses the underside of your dick. It makes your breath hitch, hips jerking forward. The wetness of your precum smears on Satoru's cheek a bit but he doesn't even mind. Nor does he seem to notice.

"These cocks are the only ones that make me this hungry."

Suguru glances at the alleyway. You're not loud enough to draw attention. Still, better safe than sorry.

"Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure." You throw your head back to laugh. A veil was meant to conceal, protect those outside of it, and maintain secrecy. To use it so improperly.

The three of you were truly perverted.

"What's got you all giggly?" Suguru speaks against your lips. Tilting your chin upwards then squeezing the sides of your neck just to relish in the way you bare your neck to him.

"You used a veil," Satoru speaks for you. He raises, ignoring Suguru's pointed glance in favour of unbuttoning your shirt and kissing down your chest. His lips are sticky, smears of pink tainting you but you find it hard to care. "He's laughing because he thinks we're perverts."

"What are you? A mind reader now, Satoru?" You huff.

"I might as well be, huh?" Satoru smirks. He's so handsome that it makes your chest hurt sometimes. You're against the wall, exits blocked by Suguru and Satoru and you wouldn't have it any other way. "You know, I missed you too. It's been weeks — "

"Three days," Suguru and you corrected.

"Weeks. And this morning wasn't enough. We did such a good job, those wrinkle bags can't complain if we just so happened to work overtime, right?"

Ijichi can't stop his cheek from heating up. It's painfully, painfully, obvious why the three of you took your time for this mission. He had waited in the car for the first hour, then occupied himself with some coffee at a nearby cafe but by the third hour, Ijichi almost called Principal Yaga.

Three Special Grade Sorcerers took that long to exorcise an abandoned building. Surely, something must have happened!

Yet, seeing you sleeping on Suguru's lap with your legs across Satoru's lap confirms the real reason why it took the three of you that long.

Satoru has a weighted eye mask, head tossed back as he recuperates. This gives Ijichi a clear sight of his marked-up neck. Your shirt is wrinkled, hitched up from the bend of your waist, and giving him the whispers of handmarks. Suguru met his gaze from the rearview and Ijichi whispered out an apology.

"No, please. We're sorry for keeping you waiting." Suguru is brushing your bangs back, gently wiping down some residual stickiness on your cheeks with wet wipes (that Ijichi had made a point to stock up on in the car after earlier missions involving you three).

"No, I understand," he says with a shaky voice. Sighing a little he laughed awkwardly from the driver's seat.

"You must've been missing them a lot for those three days they've been gone, Mr Geto."

Suguru's expression softens, leaning one shoulder down when Satoru leans to place his head on his shoulders.

"It's hard not to. I love them."

[miasmaghoul]

Here, have some soft dewther emotional hurt/comfort for reasons that do not at all reflect anything about my current mental state no siree👍

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

It's past midnight when Aether flops onto the common room sofa, exhausted from back to back shifts in the infirmary. It's a night he wishes that his own quintessence would work on himself, that he could wick away the ache in his back and the searing heat behind his eyes. He'd dragged himself here in search of food - Aether can't remember the last thing he ate, or when - but the sight of the couch had forced him to redirect.

So here he sits, alone in the dark common room, staring out the massive windows flanking the fireplace and watching the stars twinkle. He knows he should get up, should find something to put in his stomach so he can at least try to sleep, but his legs weigh a thousand pounds each and the thought of moving is enough to have Aether groaning into the silence surrounding him.

He wishes he were like Rain, like Swiss. That he could just close his eyes and be on his way to dreamland. That he didn't have to deal with the storm in his head, the revolving door of tasks to be done on his next shift. Reviewing the cases he'd handled today; there had been a flu outbreak in the human wing, and Aether stretches his hands while he thinks of every fever he'd soothed, every cough he'd calmed, every bit of suffering he'd pulled from those fragile bodies and let sink into himself.

Ghouls may not be susceptible to human illness, but the power it takes to heal them always leaves him feeling ill. Empty. Hollow.

Aether cracks his knuckles as the memory of one particular Sibling crosses his mind - a young girl, no more than twenty. Pale and shivering, hacking up a lung into the sleeve of her habit while she curled up in the corner of the waiting area. She was the only one who has arrived at the infirmary alone, a newly anointed Sister of Sin who hadn't found her footing yet. Hadn't found her family yet.

Her pain had been some of the worst for Aether to handle. Not because she was sick, there were other Siblings in far worse condition, but because she was alone. Aether could feel it in his bones the moment he touched her hand. An icy wave of anxiety and regret that had washed over every part of him, an ache even Aether couldn't soothe.

It would pass, he'd assured her. Everyone goes through this - the fear, the loneliness, the feeling that you've made a huge mistake by abandoning everything you knew and loved in the name of something new. Something better. Because there are expectations, assumptions, promises made that paint the church in an ideal, rose-colored light that draws in those eager for a place to belong.

It would pass, he'd assured her. It always does. She would find her routine, find Brothers and Sisters eager to take her under their wing. Find comfort in their Papa's sermons, in prayer and worship, as they all do. Eventually, everything would fall into place. She just needed to give it time. To let it happen.

She'd looked much better once her treatment was complete, had thanked him with a hug he could still feel untold hours later, and Aether was glad to see it. Truly.

But that cold pit of loneliness had stuck around long after she'd left the infirmary, a whirlpool of despair still swirling around in his chest. It's happened a few times before, when he's drained like this, but it's unpleasant all the same. Sore, almost. Like a thorn in his heart, digging deeper with every beat.

He should just go to bed. Make his legs work and drag himself down the impossible distance of the hall. Should collapse into his own bed and try to ignore the chill, the ache, the pounding in his head. He'd get to sleep eventually, right? It would be better than this - at least he'd be laying down. He should at least try.

The kitchen light flips on behind him, and Aether's too tired to jolt.

"Aeth?" A sleep-thick voice creeps into his ears, familiar, and Aether's shoulders sag. "What're you doin' in here?"

The soft patter of bare feet follows, and Aether sighs when their owner comes into view.

"Hey, Dew."

"Hey yourself," the little ghoul mumbles, rubbing at tired eyes. He's dressed in one of Aether's beat-up old shirts and a pair of sunflower printed pajama pants that undoubtedly belong to Sunshine. "I could smell you from my room," he says through a yawn, and Aether cringes. "D'you just get back?"

"Yeah," Aether rasps, working immediately to get his scent under control. It's something he always struggles with on nights like this. "Long day."

He crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his neck, and Dew frowns.

"Looks like more than that." Aether hugs himself a little tighter. "Wanna talk about it?"

"It's nothing," Aether huffs, the guilt of having woken Dewdrop enough to have that thorn sinking in further. "Go back to bed, love, I'm fine."

"Pfft," Dew waves a hand, dismissive, "how many times do I have to tell you you're a shitty liar?"

Aether groans, tosses his glasses to the side to dig the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. He hears Dew's tail thump against the area rug, obvious concern that he must be too tired to hide.

"I just...it was a long day," Aether sighs, resting his elbows on his knees and hunching over. "I'll be fine, I'm just...just tired, that's all."

Warm, bony hands come to rest on his shoulders, and it takes everything Aether has not to whimper at how good that simple touch feels.

"Aether," Dew says, low, "look at me."

He doesn't want to. Knows he too exhausted to hide the way the void in his chest will have darkened his eyes, brought out every line on his face. He knows that if he does, Dew will see the hurt. Hurt that isn't his problem, isn't something he needs to worry about. It's not his job.

"C'mon, Aeth," the little ghoul encourages, one hand leaving a shoulder to glide through Aether's thick, unruly hair. Aether does whimper then, can't help it, but silently prays Dew doesn't hear it. "Please?"

There's something so sincere in that one word that Aether can't deny him. He heaves a mighty sigh, leans back into the couch and begrudgingly lets Dew see.

Those copper eyes bore into him like white hot fire, and it only takes two breaths for Dew to understand.

"Oh, Aether," he breathes, cupping his worn face in those incredible hands. Aether sinks into the touch, something he can't quite name caught in the back of his throat. "What can I do?"

Nothing. Everything. Aether has no idea, too scattered and distracted by the icy claws scratching at his rib cage to do more than shake his head and flex his fingers. Dew won't break his gaze, looking down at him with concern knitting his brow and his mouth turned down at the corners. He brings his own hands up to hold Dew's wrists, overcome by the need for...for...

"Could you just -" a hiccup, one he can't help, "just...remind me I'm not alone?"

The words are miserable to say, a request he feels stupid for making and regrets instantly. Wishes he could take them back the second they pass his lips, a flush of embarrassment rushing up his throat when Dew tips his head. When a lock of golden hair that had slipped from his bun floats across his forehead, those gorgeous eyes gone soft around the edges.

But he doesn't have time to take them back, because Dew's already moving. Gently shaking off Aether's trembling grip and moving to straddle him on the couch. Skinny thighs bracketing his own while Dew settles in, leaning forward to get his arms under Aether's wrinkled white coat, looping them around his waist. Scooching closer until they're chest to chest, no more than their clothes to separate them, and then Dew's resting his head on Aether's shoulder.

"Don't worry, starlight," he lilts, soft as Aether's ever heard him. Dew kisses his neck, no more than a chaste peck. "'S long as I'm around, you never have to be alone."

The little ghoul starts to purr, his unnatural heat seeping into Aether's whole being, and Aether shudders. Wraps him up in strong arms and holds on tight, breathing in cedar and burnt cinnamon. Something so distinctly Dew that it overrides the mess in his head, in his heart, and as it does Aether can do nothing but believe him.

"Thank you, firefly," he huffs, voice thready. Something Dew would normally tease him for, but not tonight. He nuzzles closer, and Aether lets his cheek rest against the little ghoul's head. "Thank you."

[etherfabric]

What benefit is hidden in your aura? + Affirmations

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn't resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

Justice, Knight of Pentacles rx

Your aura reflects your miniscule attunement to injustices. People in your vicinity are taking their sweet time to hold up their end of a bargain they had no problem agreeing to as along as it was your turn to show up. But now that the foundations are being shaken up by influences outside of your control, suddenly it's everyone for themselves. Let your frustration and impatience truthfully shine through. There is no shame in knowing what you deserve, and reacting accordingly when being left in the rain. Those who truly care will feel the discomfort in just the right places to motivate them to be better. And those who shame you for standing up for yourself are just as pathetic as it feels when they do it. You can't save everyone, especially not while being bled dry.

Spend your time waiting for them to process all this on things that bring you joy and nourishment. Joy is easy, joy is pulling you towards things you could do for hours, that make you forget to eat, sleep, drink (but please do eat, sleep, drink). If your mood is too dark to access joy, aim for comfort and relief. If there is anger taking up space, seek catharsis by writing insults in your journal, or throwing hands with your mattress. If you need a good cry, watch that movie you know will break you. Trust your inner compass to guide you to where your next quest is hidden.

Your affirmation is:

I slow down and listen to the guidance that's available to me.

Pile 2

2 of Cups rx, 7 of Wands

Your aura is dulled by your aversion to conflict, even and especially within yourself. As soon as you feel two opposing forces, you shut down and fall into a pit of despair. I know this can sound so hurtful and dismissive, but please see the reality of hope when I say your emotions do not reflect the totality of what is true. I don't want you to stop feeling these things, I want you to stop acting like they are the only things that are true. Those vulnerable aspects of you never asked to carry the weight of being a solo performer. They need their supporting actors - all your other parts, that yes, seem antagonistic at first glance. But avoiding communication, be it inside or outside of yourself, won't lead to anything that will feel as good as you deserve.

You are scared of the fire within you. You are scared once you let it burn, everything you love and need will turn to ashes forever. You have no faith in the transformational power of emotional alchemy. This keeps you stuck in loneliness, because conflict is just a part of human connection that you need to befriend if you ever want to feel truly close to someone - yourself included.

The ashes give rise to the phoenix. The strike of a meteor brings new resources to a formerly closed off sphere and changes the whole game. You are cutting yourself off of a immensely valuable resource. I am not asking you to go on a killing spree - I am asking you to bravely admit to your humanness. With yourself, and in front of others.

Your affirmation is:

When I cultivate a spiritual connection I can trust the Universe no matter what.

Pile 3

The Lovers, Death rx

I see an open invitation being ignored in your aura. Someone is trustworthy and flexible, but you stick to rigid beliefs around the situation and assume the worst. They have hit you where it truly hurts, and you are so ashamed of having tender sports, you rather tell yourself being stuck with a villian instead of facing the truth: You are dealing with pain inside of your soul after this interaction. As long as you deny this, you can't receive the blessing of being truly seen and cared for. You ignore your hopeful and optimistic parts out of fear they will set you up for failure if you take them into account.

You are taking normal human imperfections as indicators for fundamental untrostworthyness. You do this to them and yourself alike. You refuse to see how the current situation is different from the past experiences that were actually hopeless. There is a happy end waiting for you. A realistic one, not a perfect one.

I understand this is concerning trauma you had no other means to deal with in the past but denying it and acting like an unscathed person. Habits born out of survival are tough to shake. But this one begs you to loosen your grip just this once. You won't suddenly turn into a helpless punching bag without any of your skills just because you dare let someone see your wound. And this person isn't just anyone. You having gotten scared, and hiding out of reflex, can totally be a topic of gentle discussion once the time is right to talk again. I'm sure they will understand.

Your affirmation is:

When I live and act from a place of spiritual alignment, I can trust that everything is working out for me, even if I don't know when or how it will happen.

Pile 4

3 of Cups rx, 3 of Wands

You had to experience your own limits, and your aura reflects your disappointment in yourself. You are being way too harsh. What you deem lost is merely dormant for now. Zoom out of the current moment and realize that you are way more than your worst days. Training this kind of perspective willl form beneficial associations everytime you dare to try it. Don't expect ecstacy as a result, more a timid sibling of hope saying you might not be utter trash after all. This is more than enough for now. Build on it step by step.

Really, cut yourself some slack. Have grace. Have compassion. You were completely overwhelmed by the circumstances, and now see yourself falling back on habits you thought you had gotten rid of once and for all. You think you have let people down irreversibly, but this is just not the case. If you can, communicate you having a hard time right now, that you can see the non-optimal influence you had on the situation, and then take the time of isolation you so desperately crave.

There will come brighter, more joyful days. The kinder you are to yourself right now, the quicker you will feel up for it again. Relief and comfort are your number one priority right now. This too shall pass. You will return to your healthier set of skills once you yourself are healthier. You got there once, you will get there again.

Your affirmation is:

Feeling good will bring me far more than whatever I thought I needed.

[darklinsblog]

Bring Me To Life| Sandman Imagine

Summary: Y/N is part of the Burgess family, somewhat of a black sheep, when she finds the prisoner her family has kept for 90 years, your father finds a way to dispose of his own daughter. Imprisoning her with The Dream Lord.

Pairing: Morpheus x Burguess! Reader

Requested: Yes

Author’s note: Will be updating my tag list so please comment if you want in on out of it!

You were always aware you were different from your family, they were always so shallow, empty, even.

Your father was nephew of the wealthy Roderick Burgess, and if Roderick was cruel and despicable, your father Maurice was much more worse.

For starters, he had way too many children, you were clearly the one in the middle, having many responsibilities that no child should have at your age, and even when you did everything you could to earn your father’s love and acceptance, you only got hatred in return.

He genuinely hated your guts.

His words, not yours.

But still someone a part of you was holding onto hope that maybe one day he would learn to love you.

While you waited for that day to come, you did your best to blend into the background, which for the record, wasn’t hard at all with six teens running around the house screaming all day long.

By your twenties you were a master of truly “minding your shit” as your father used to tell you, one particular day, everyone had gone hunting as the only female, it was easy to leave you behind.

You would be lying if you said that you weren’t bored out of your mind after a while, and then like a light switch, you remembered the house had a basement.

As any forgotten part of the house, you were told multiple times to leave it, to never even think of it, but at least the mysterious basement had to be more interesting than this empty mansion.

What you did not prepare for, was to find some… being trapped in a glass prison, he seemed like a man but something about him felt supernatural, extraordinary even.

His eyes followed even the slightest of your moves. As your fingertips merely crashed the cold surface of the glass, the eyes of the “man” opened wider, a distorted reflection of your father’s knowing figure, holding s large object, but before you could turn to face him.

All was suddenly black after a sharp pain hit the back of your neck and a buzz on your ears.

As you regained consciousness, your senses buzzed, everything somehow felt colder, lonelier, wrong…

When turning your head, you noticed the being you were staring at on the other side of the glass; only this time, he was right beside you.

Completely startled you backed away, until you met the cold surface of the bubble you were now trapped in.

You noticed more now the nakedness of the man (that is to refer to him because quite frankly, he was anything but human), which made your cheeks turn red and more than ever you appreciated your own clothes.

Tears were streaming down your face quietly and you wiped them away as soon as the left your eyes, embarrassed for this stranger to see you at your very worst.

“Morpheus”.

A voice inside your head spoke calmly but loudly, you turned to see the man beside you, empathy could be seen in his features, his hand softly grazing yours.

It had been so long since he last touched anyone, your skin felt soft and warm to the touch, it was something that now his heart longed for.

You didn’t know what it was, maybe the despair of being trapped here for God knows how long, the confusion and anger that came as to why you were here or the overall sadness.

Whatever it might’ve been, you found yourself embracing Morpheus softly by the neck, hiding your face as you sobbed lightly.

The Dream Lord was startled at first, but delicately his hands found a place in your back and to your waist he was letting you have complete control over this moment, he did not wish to touch you in any way that would make you uncomfortable.

He let you hold onto him as long and as hard as you needed to, but he knew his role there was only to contain your sadness until it went away.

“It is nice to know you, Morpheus” you whispered in his ear after a long period of sadness.

Ten long years had passed since you were trapped in the bubble prison with Morpheus, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t developed a particular affection towards each other as well as a complex non-spoken communication between the two, he would let his voice echo your mind every now and then, but mostly, by simply looking at each other it was enough to know it all.

It hurt to think that nobody was looking for you, but then again, you would not be surprised by this, yet, a naive part of you thought maybe they were looking. Truth be told, if they were, they would’ve found you by now. After all, you were still in the same damn house.

But today something happened, Alex Burgess, your uncle, had gone down to see you two, it had been years since you saw him, but he was indeed, fragile and old, almost at the end of his days.

His eyes fell on you, you could see the sense of recognition in his gaze but quickly his eyes diverted to the King of dreams, completely disregarding your presence.

You held onto Morpheus’ arm trying to hold back on your anger as Alex Burgess went on his monologue to the King of Dreams about how he had done wrong in not wanting to be free all those years ago.

But you understood his motives as to why he didn’t chose freedom, his companion deserved that the perpetrators of her cold blooded murder paid the price.

Truth be told, it also did rub the wrong way to Morpheus how your own blood ignored you, after spending a decade by your side, he had gotten to know your very essence and in full honesty, you deserved something better than the rotten tree you were born in.

But something happened, as Alex turned his wheels to leave, the restraining runes were slightly wiped off.

You both looked at one another, acknowledging the window of opportunity you were given by the neglect of Alex.

For the first time in a decade you recognized in the eyes of the other, the almost foreign sentiment of hope, you step aside, letting Morpheus concentrate as you understood the only one who could set you free now was him.

Everything to you, seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, the cracks, the breaking, the shots fired and as Morpheus conjured some sort of vortex, he stretched out his hand for you to reach.

Going with him, was tempting, but you knew now as you stood in front of him, your journeys were very different, he had a kingdom to restore while you had to figure your own identity outside of the Burgess last name, to find if, you had any other living relatives, to find answers to all your questions.

You smiled at him, in a way which he understood it all.

“There will always be a place for you in the Dreaming Y/N Burgess” he finally spoke, after all those ages of silence, it wasn’t just a voice echoing in your brain, it was real.

You nodded, at the very edge of tears, the mixture of relief and nostalgia for this chapter of your life ending becoming all so overwhelming.

“I’ll come and find you, King of Dreams” you promised to him, the corners of his mouth lifting in the ghost of a smile.

“Till we meet again” he said taking your hand and planting a subtle kiss on it before going back to his world.

Leaving you be in yours.

But even as the chapter of your imprisonment came to and end, you knew, deep in your heart, your story with the myth in the flesh, was far from over.

Taglist: @emiemiemiii @ladyfairenvale @hungrhay @aurorarevenclaw1927 @adishax @meganmayhem89 @mrs-captainsteverogers @hb8301 @sarahbullet235 @bambooing-shenanigans @queenshelby @characterxreaderimagine @emarich7 @carolcrysis @sister-of-stars @coolsnowker @vvsdreaming @jesllianaquilesrolon @supermegapauselouca

[dearestspirit]

a note heard in heaven - 01

mizu x fem!reader | au based on the film the handmaiden | word count: 3,388 | warnings: mdni. this series will contain sexual and dark themes, including: abuse, sex, sexual assault/harrasment, period typical misogyny, murder, allusions to suicide, and period typical stigmas against mental health. series masterlist | previous part | next part

“Fuck!” Mizu grunts, knocking her head into the ceiling of her little room after hearing your scream.

Hissing, she hurriedly flails up and out of bed, Madame Kaji’s words on her mind. The older woman had told Mizu about your nightmares– she was no stranger to them herself. If she were back in that dingy village she called home right now, she would’ve gone right back to sleep. It’d be a lie if she said she wasn’t thinking about ignoring you, even now. Taigen would have her head if she didn’t follow through with the plan, though… The thought of losing out on the money is enough to make her quicken her pace through your door, nearly tripping over herself.

Your voice is torn between muttering and full-blown shrieking– crying for your mother. Your mother, who, as far as Mizu knew, was long gone. Once she reaches your bed, she’s out of breath and already has her arms at, what she assumes is, your shoulders to hold you in place. Buried under your blanket and absolutely thrashing around, Mizu can barely get a word out to calm you down. Eventually, she can tell you’ve become more conscious when you start calling out for the name of your old handmaiden.

“No, no, I’m the new one,” Mizu hushes you, your wild movements slowly ceasing. “You had a bad dream, go back to sleep.” Her tone is rough, hoping you’re through the worst of it.

Finally, you take hold of the blanket, easing the hem of it down to your midsection. Mizu, for a moment, gulps as you’re revealed to her. In the glint of the moonlight, your eyes were almost crystalline. Tear tracks stain your cheeks, complexion ruddy with grief. Her eyes trail down to your lips, trembling. Grasped tightly in your arms was a doll. You looked… fragile. Fragile in an all too familiar way. Fragile in the way that she knew she once was too– a child, having a bad dream, calling for their mother. No mother would come for either of you.

She watches you raise your arm, finger pointing out into the gardens your room faces. “Do you see the cherry tree? My aunt… she passed. There’s nights where I see her out there.” Your rasping barely breaks through the quiet, hoarse and shaky.

Mizu’s attention is turned towards the large window, squinting out of it. Watching you from the corner of her eye, she can’t shake the thought of how eerie you are. Neither Taigen nor Madame Kaji had even hinted at the notion of you seeing ghosts to her. She wasn’t superstitious in the slightest, but she felt the weight of her responsibility for you become heavier. Melancholy like yours was easy to sense, deeply buried as it may be. This job was going to be the end of her. She sighed, hoping to turn around and find you peacefully sleeping.

“For fuck’s sake!” Mizu grits her teeth, finding you not even in the room at all once she turns back.

She’s quick to chase after you, finding you huddled in a swathe of your own blankets at the top of the stairs. You’re sniffling into them, knees pressed tightly to your chest. When you peer up at her, a zing of guilt courses up her spine. Maybe you didn’t just look fragile.

“Come to your senses yet?” She asks, tilting her head with her arms crossed. Reaching a foot out, she nudges at your legs.

You give her a sluggish nod in response, having exerted all your energy. Between the scrambling in bed and the mad dashing to the staircase, you felt well and truly exhausted. Part of you felt remorse; for looking at Mizu, even in the dim light, you could see the weariness under her eyes. In the gauntness of her cheekbones, too. Despite feeling despair holding you down, you reach your arms out, gesturing for her help. Mizu drags a hand over her face, grumbling. Squatting down, she’s somehow able to enclose her arms around the mass of blankets covering you, lifting you easily. It barely takes her any time to lug you back into bed.

Her awkward nature is obvious as she stands once more at your side. “Okay, well… goodnight?”

Sitting up, you don’t hesitate to take Mizu’s sleeve into your hand and pull. In response, she tugs herself away from you, scoffing.

“Don’t grab me like that,” Mizu seethes. “Ever. Just call for me.”

Your mouth runs dry. Whether that’s due to the harshness of her tone or the fact you upset her, you aren’t entirely sure. “I apologize… Could you stay with me until I fall asleep again?”

Her face scrunches. “Don’t you have a husband? Call him in here.”

You squirm, clearly uncomfortable. “We aren’t actually married yet. Calling each other husband and wife… it’s for appearances,” Your head lolls back onto the pillow, staring at the ceiling. That doll you had– it’s returned to its position of being clutched tightly in your arms. “Men like him are only gentle with women when others are watching.”

Mizu’s chest heaves, a strong exhale leaving her as she contemplates her next move. “Fine, just for tonight.”

Your eyes light up almost instantaneously. The sight makes her swallow, stiffly. Had… anyone ever looked at her like that? Those sparks of joy, finally overtaking that shadowy gloom in your irises; it captivated her. Briefly, at least.

“Ugh,” she shook her head, taking little care to climb into the spot next to you. “Look, if I’m staying here until you fall asleep, you’re facing the other way.”

“Your eyes are blue. I couldn’t see them that well before.”

“Yes, they are. Just another good reason for you to turn around, right?” she sneers. “Or better yet, go ahead and fire me.”

You frown, holding her gaze. “I wouldn’t fire you for something like that,” you’re mumbling as you bring a hand up to her cheek, caressing it with the back of your knuckle. “For what it’s worth, I think they’re beautiful. Someone would’ve been very happy to have you as a wife someday, I’m sure.”

Mizu snorts at that, carefully edging her face away from your touch. “I’ll pass, but… thanks. Even if it’s empty flattery.”

She can see your lips form into a pout. “It’s not!”

You’re playful, all of a sudden. She figures that this is it. Your loneliness bubbling to the surface. An undrownable creature made of desires and aches. Mizu knew your old handmaidens were mostly a lot older than you– elderly women vastly more experienced than the other youthful servant girls. It’s been very, very long since you’ve had a friend, if you’ve ever had one to begin with. It was only slightly unfortunate to her that she’d have to be the one to prey upon your vulnerabilities.

“Do brats like you whine all the time?” She huffs, taking your arms within her hands and turning you around herself. “You must be worn out by now, so go to bed. I’ll… be here.”

You chuckle at her, the grimace she must be sporting is obvious even though you’re not looking anymore. You can’t help but think that your mattress felt a bit softer tonight.

It was a long few minutes that passed by, Mizu’s eyes trained on the motions of your breathing. When your body rose, fell. The slight shivers that would run through you when your blanket slipped lower than wanted. Clearing her throat, she eased herself off of your bed. With her first night as your handmaiden over, she questioned just how sane she’d be after the end of all this. At least she’d be rich, she supposed, slipping back into her bedroll with a smirk.

Mizu awoke to a bleary morning and the sound of Madame Kaji’s grating nags in her ear. Something about even the handmaiden eating in the servant’s quarters– she didn’t care all that much, barely half conscious to hear it. It took her a few groggy minutes to make her way outside and get her hands on a bowl of rice and some sort of… porridge, she assumed.

The hall was filled with the gossip of the other young girls serving here. Together they squealed about The Count; he was due to make an appearance today. Supposedly they saw a light ghosting through the hallway, speculating it was him meeting you in your bedroom. She almost laughed at that, knowing the reality is that it was her going after you during your nightmare. Fiddling with her chopsticks, she felt little appetite knowing Taigen would be here today. Everything in this plan had to go perfectly, there was no room for her to be suspicious or lack confidence in her abilities. Perhaps the seemingly endless downpour of rain was also putting a damper on her? Taking only a few more bites, she pushed her bowls away from her. Padding over to where she left her shoes, she felt a bristle of anger. One of her shoes was gone, with a crowd of other servant girls giggling. Unfortunately for her, and fortunately for them, Madame Kaji was approaching her with a parasol held over her head.

“Is that how you intend on going to meet with the Lady?” Her eyebrow raises, gesturing to Mizu’s feet.

“I didn’t exactly plan on having my shoe taken.” Mizu fumes.

Madame Kaji sighs, massaging her temple. “Ah… Very well.”

A sense of unease settled in Mizu’s chest. This would be her first official meeting with you. It’d be up to you whether you’d take her on as handmaiden or not… and it was looking grim for her, right now. As if she isn’t on enough people’s hit list, she’d have to go and be added to Taigen’s for screwing up. She follows closely behind Madame Kaji as she leads her to your room, trying her best to ignore the sogginess of her footwear. It takes everything in her to not grumble with every step, keeping up a polite disposition. Even if you were willing to put up with her irritable nature, Madame Kaji certainly wasn’t.

Before long, she stood in front of you in a deep bow, hands folded at her waist.

“This is Mizu.” Madame Kaji spoke.

You felt a prickle of heat trail up your neck, a twinge of embarrassment at realizing that through the entire night, you hadn’t asked for her name once.

“I’m at your service, my Lady.” She straightens herself out, eyes now set on you.

You’re much more put together today. That hair of yours is pinned up neatly, off your shoulders. And your eyes, today, aren’t sullied by the red tint of sorrow. Your choice of dress guides the eyes– from nose to lips to neck to the faint hint of exposed collarbones. Delicate; the word that comes to mind when Mizu collects her thoughts. Madame Kaji leaves a less than pleasant swat on her back.

“Right, a letter from my last mistress.” Mizu stands before you, holding out the paper.

You don’t open it yet, instead choosing to focus your sight on Mizu. “Did you enjoy your first night here? It’s rare for the sun to come out. My husband prefers it that way, otherwise his extensive library would be at risk. To take joy in a place like this… it’s difficult, no?”

Mizu’s eyesight flickers between you and Madame Kaji, wondering how to answer. “I don’t mind it.”

“Hm,” You hum inquisitively. “You don’t have to lie when I question you. I want your honesty. Do you have parents?”

“What?” Mizu asks, somewhere between anger and surprise.

“I’ll be going now.” Madame Kaji shakes her head, sighing.

“I don’t have any either, so don’t feel bad. I had my aunt and Madame Kaji, so how much can the love of a mother really be worth?” For a second, she hears the twist of something bitter in you. You look back down at the letter Mizu handed you. “Read this to me, if you will.”

“You’re spoiled, aren’t you?” She grunts, taking the parchment out of your hands.

“It’s only because my head hurts before every reading session with my husband. Though your honesty is refreshing.” You’re grinning, unused to someone like her. Your previous handmaidens were at your beck and call– annoyingly so.

It’s odd, but in her mind she’s quick to consider you… charming. You’ve been spoon-fed and privileged your whole life, yet here you are conversing with her without taking any offense. Delight has always been scarce for her; still, she reminds herself whatever she feels now will and must be short lived.

“Dear Lady of the House… The Count said you needed a new maid…” Mizu starts, reading off the neat handwriting which she knows is Taigen’s, but you're oblivious to.

“Ah, enough,” You wave a hand at her, taking the letter back. “You’ll be my handmaid. I know Madame Kaji forbids it, but I don’t particularly care if you curse or steal. It’s my word that decides whether you stay or not.”

“You speak like you have a condition for my staying?” Mizu questions.

“I do. Don’t ever lie to me.” You smile, though your words are cold. It’s a chilling ultimatum that rings in the back of her mind for a while.

She freezes as you put her hands on her– resting them on the outside of her arms, slowly trailing to her wrists. There’s a second where she can pinpoint the exact change in your expression. Where it morphs from man-eating to genuine. She thinks that through all the rain, the sun might be shining a little brighter through the gray now.

“And, another question,” You’re scanning her appearance, zeroing in on the frames sitting on her nose. “Did Madame Kaji ask you to wear those- your glasses?”

“Yes, for my eyes.” She mumbles, finding the topic easily aggravating her.

“You don’t have to wear them if you'd rather not, and…” A finger of yours comes up, untucking a curl of her locks from their neat place. “You can wear your hair like this. It’s how you had it last night, too. You seemed more comfortable.”

Since when has anyone like you ever cared about the comfort of someone below you? She opens her mouth to speak, maybe even say some sort of gratitude, but you’re already flitting away from her. You’re eager, waving her to and fro every corner of your room. Trinkets on display are taken out of their designated place and into her palms, each one connected to a story. You talk.

You talk, and that loneliness once again bubbles, showing it’s soft underbelly to the skies.

“This is my mother.” You open up a locket to reveal an old photo.

To Mizu, the two of you have an uncanny resemblance. It’s almost bizarre, the way each of you is the picture of a man’s ideal wife. Again, the word delicate springs to mind. “She’s stunning.”

You tilt your head, eyes squinting. “And me? My husband says I don’t compare to my mother.” You turn, mimicking your mother’s pose. There���s nerves in your tone, a shadow looming over you as you wait in suspense for her answer.

Fuck. Your own despair would betray you. You’ve unknowingly gotten yourself ensnared in the perfect moment to sink her teeth into you. Your softness would be met only with blades. With her as his wing-woman, you’d be eating out of Taigen’s hand in no time.

Her stare lingers on you. “The Count says–”

“You’ve met him?”

“What?” She stutters, blinking rapidly. “I mean, my… aunt met him. She used to nanny him, so I’ve just heard things from her.”

“So, what did he say about me then?” Your eyes hold an expression of curiosity, maybe even a tinge of hope.

“He lays awake at night thinking of you. In bed.” She tacks on the last part of her sentence as an extra measure.

There’s a brief flash of a smirk upon your face before you speak. “In bed…” You trail off, gaze landing on her one shoeless foot. “And what happened there?”

When she recalls the events to you of her losing her shoe, you click your tongue, sighing. You reach out a hand to take her by the arm, but remember her warning about never grabbing her. Instead, she herself holds out her arm for you, rolling her eyes. Guiding her over to a large closet, you open the two doors, displaying your wide collection of shoes.

“Take a pair, please.” You indicate which ones would fit her. “It’s not like I’m allowed to go anywhere, so someone should get some use out of them.”

Mizu, uncertain, takes the plainest pair out of the ones you’ve shown her. They’re simple and black, seemingly comfortable enough to do her handmaiden work in.

You seem to be happy with her choice, the way your lips upturn. “You didn’t want any of the flashy expensive pairs?”

She shakes her head, shrugging. “Not my style.”

“Hm,” You look out the window, then shift your gaze to the room’s clock. “I have to go for my husband’s reading. You can stay put, I’ll go alone.”

“It’s pouring out there.” Mizu says, as if you can’t see the state of the weather.

“Come get me at noon, okay?” There’s that smile of yours again– do you have to smile so much?

The door is closed behind you before Mizu gets any sort of goodbye out. Adjusting her glasses, she snorted as her eyes landed on the clock you were looking at before. You’re rich, of course you have the latest inventions at your disposal. It was a handcrafted Western clock made of brass. She wondered who had gifted it to you, were they too trying to get in your good graces? Seduce you? She’s not sure if it mattered, since she– The Count, she corrects herself– would be the one to succeed. Letting out a moan of boredom, she decides to pass her time by looking through your belongings.

The overindulgence of wealth nearly sickens her. Your extravagant kimono collection, sorted by color, the best season to wear them, what obi pairs well with them. She thought that was nauseating until she plucked through the cases of jewelry. Gold, silver, every gem you could imagine existed right here in front of her very eyes. It’s not impossible for her to picture you bathed in their opulence, as the kind of woman that such a fortune suits. Would you ask her to put your earrings on for you? Moreover, would she be tame, tender? Snapping the jewelry box shut, she checks your foreign clock once more.

Noon. With clouds still darkening the sky, she grabbed one of your umbrellas, heading out the door to follow the path you had taken to your husband’s library. Stepping carefully to avoid scuffing her shoes– or, your shoes– in case you’d ask for them back. There was a thin layer of trust she was willing to grant you, but she of all people knew how quickly one could turn. When she makes it to the door of the library, she sits at the entrance.

You’re kneeled on the floor, your husband sitting at the table. He shoots you a questioning glare once his eyes land on Mizu.

“This is my new handmaiden, Mizu.” You’re talking to him, but your eyes stay on the floor, hands neatly in your lap.

Mizu goes to walk inside, before your husband shouts, pointing at a golden snake decoration. It gives her a shock, stepping backwards. She sees you pull a lever in the corner of the room, bringing down a grated gate.

“You may not cross that barrier!” He sounds fucking deranged, Mizu notes. She also makes the observation of his black tongue. Ink?

Trying to peer through the gaps of the metal, she searches for you. At the lever she saw before, you’re rooted in place. Trembling, in the face of an unhinged man you were forced to call ‘husband’, you looked scared. Fragile. Delicate.

Mizu wondered just how long she could pretend to be picking up the pieces of you until she would have to let them fall and shatter– to dust, to infinitesimal shards no one could see anymore.

a/n: the official chapter 1!! i hope people enjoy and can see where i'm going with mizu's characterization. there's a lot of shuffling i have to do of the plot to make sure i feel it's accurate to mizu. or at least as accurate as it can be in an au. so i hope that it's worth it and people enjoy!! i can't guarantee the quickest publishing rate with chapters, as i'm still figuring out how i want to structure them and they'll probably vary here and there in length. anyway thank you for reading!!

[introspectivememories]

tim and bernard who break up and it's nothing big, no one cheated or anything. it's just their lifestyles didn't work out well together. tim cannot give up vigilantism currently and bear cannot handle the level of danger tim puts himself in. and on the other hand, tim cannot handle the fact that bear chooses to run into danger as an emt bc he already worries about everything but now he has to worry if he'll find his boyfriend convulsing from fear gas in a random alley but also bear who felt the life drain out of darla cannot stand the thought of not helping people and runs headfirst into dangerous situation after dangerous situation hoping that every person he saves can somehow make up for the fact that he could not save darla.

(he very pointedly does not think about the fact that there was nothing he could do because if he thinks about that, he'll spiral until they have to lock him in arkham too)

and so they break up but they were tim & bernard in high school and when they started dating they balanced out the worst of each other and they became tim&bernard. and everyone who knows them, knows that they're better together but they cant be together, they refuse actually because they cannot lose another person to the violence of gotham and by the time they figure out that they cant work together as long as the other is an emt or vigilante, it's too late for both them. they've already left too many pieces of themselves in each other.

tim still knows what bear means when he says "tim" in that exasperated voice. tim still goes boneless when he hears bear say "baby" in that firm tone. bear can still read tim like a book. he still knows the right way to massage tim's neck so that tim can go to sleep. everyone at the first responders gala knows not to bother ceo drake-wayne and senior emt dowd when they're talking.

(and if they're standing a little too close to each other than what is normal, who are they to judge? everyone knows that dowd and drake-wayne have history)

and if everyone on the night shift has caught red robin with his head tucked into the crook of emt dowd's neck as emt dowd runs a soothing hand up and down the vigilante's back, well then, they just quietly back away.

(after all, dowd's one of like, five, emts that can get the bats to receive medical treatment so if turning a blind eye to whatever the fuck they have going on is what allows them to give back to their heroes, then the night shift will do it every time)

and of course, tim and bear are practical people. they loved (love) each other sure, but when your lives are fundamentally incompatible, well, you cant get too stuck on the what-ifs, that's for sure. and so they do find love with other people and yeah, maybe it's not what they expected love to be when they first fell in love with each other. it's not the bubbly, stomach-swoopy, cant stop grinning, feeling that permeated tim&bernard's early days or the i Know you/you Know me that was their middle or the quiet despair that was their end but it is contentment. and in a life with as many losses as theirs, contentment is something they hold dearly

and they're happy! truly! but sometimes, at galas when they're making each other snort champagne out their noses or in darkened alleyways when their clothes are both stained with blood or at rallies for stricter gun regulations in gotham where they both sit too close to each other, fingers enclosed around each other in a death grip, when the presenters inevitably bring up grieves

(worst school shooting in gotham in decades, there's blood on their hands and blood in their mouths and darla is dead in between both of them and there is a chasm so wide that they are screaming to get their voices across and she will always be dead and maybe this had always been the problem that she is dead and there is no coming back from that and that there is blood on their hands and blood in their mouth and blood on their han-)

but sometimes, most especially on opposite sides of the street, as life pulls them in different directions, just sometimes, they see each other and just for a second, nothing too long, the flap of a hummingbird's wings, the time it takes to blink, an electron's orbital, they look at each other and for the briefest moment, blue on brown, a barely noticeable stutter in their steps, the space between heartbeats, because this is all they will give themselves because they do not dwell on what-ifs or what-could-have-beens, or what-should-have-beens, or delusions of a softer world, their eyes meet and they think to themselves, god, in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with him.

[gildedcageif]

Gilded Cage

Nothing but ashes remain of your home. Your loved ones have all been taken from you overnight, leaving you all alone in the world. 

Fight, flee, cry, scream, rage. Seek revenge, find forgiveness, fall in love, break hearts. Poison, lie and sleep your way to the top of the imperial harem.

The golden chains wear down heavy on your pretty little neck. And they will do so until you break them.

You were still a child when the Zephyran hounds razed hell on your homeland. Overnight, everything and everyone you knew and loved withered before your eyes, claimed by the flame and the ashes.

You were fortunate enough -or unfortunate, depending on how you see it- to survive that fateful night. Instead, heavy chains were placed around your wrists and you were sent away to whoever would pay to own you.

Some masters were kinder than others. But captivity tastes just as bitter regardless of how opulent your cage is. 

And this is the most opulent cage you will ever be locked in. The Jade Palace is where you being shipped off to this time. The capital of the grand Zephyran Empire. The very same that ripped your childhood apart.

You have been selected to join the imperial harem of Sultan Ahmad, an honor bestowed only upon the most beautiful and worthy of servants.

Regardless of how you feel regarding this great 'honor', you are every bit as powerless to fight against it as you were to defend your homeland when the Zephyrans came for you.

Don't despair yet, child of the Ancients. There are many opportunities in the Jade Palace for those who wish to seek them. 

You may find yourself pulling the strings and changing the course of history, whispering in the ears of royalty, marching bravely into battle, even escaping and claiming your own freedom once and for all, away from this mess that was inflicted upon you. If you play your cards right, you may even one day become the parent of the next Sultan.

Beware however. There are many who will stand in your path. The worst enemies are hidden not in the shadows but amongst our closest of friends.

Gilded Cage is rated 18+ for explicit language, explicit sexual themes, graphic descriptions of violence and depictions of slavery. 

FEATURES 

•Create your MC. Anything from what they look like to how they feel about their years of servitude and their arrival to the Jade Palace is for you to choose. Are you a conniving courtesan, set on claiming the crown for yourself? Do you merely wish for a life of peace after all these years of hardship? Do you have a single-minded focus on achieving your own freedom? If so, what are you willing to risk for it? 

•Define how others perceive you. You are no ordinary servant after all, you are a member of the Sultan's harem, and those around you are eager to watch your every move? The nobility, military and common folk will all form opinions based on what they hear of you, as will many important political figures like the Valide and the Grand Vizier. And of course it is better to be admired than mocked, ridiculed and despised...

•Engage in a world of intrigue and danger. The Zephyran Empire is deadly. The harem even more so. One wrong step and it will be off with your head, if the Sultan is feeling generous that day. Many plots and schemes are already in place by the time you arrive to the Palace. Some of which may or may not involve you. It is on you to uncover secrets, distinguish enemy from ally and keep yourself safe from the vipers of court. In these halls, few are truly innocent and you might be forced to get your own hands bloody.

•Climb the ranks of the imperial harem. How you achieve that is up to you! You may ally yourself to Valide Sultan, act as a mole for the Grand Vizier or even become a tutor for the young Prince! And of course, if you are willing to participate in some old fashioned seduction, the Sultan's bed -and his heart, if you are capable enough- is the road to unimaginable power and wealth, but also danger.

•Change the course of history. Raise the next Sultan, assassinate your enemies, encourage a military uprising, cause a shift in the religious establishment, become a general, an advisor, even a Haseki. If you are daring enough to bare the consequences of failure. Your actions will have farfetched consequences for the future of the Zephyran Empire and the wider world. So be wary. History has its eye on you.

Romantic Options

The Sultan of the Zephyran Empire: Ahmad

You have heard of him only in hushed whispers and screams of terror. He rules en empire stretching far across the east and west. He is the master of the hounds that raided and destroyed your home. He took everything from you and now he owns you. Still, your very survival depends on his whims.

Yet, when you come face to face with the Lion of the East, he seems less monstrous than you had expected...

The Grand Vizier: Selim

He has had an eye on you since you first entered the palace. And not for good reasons. He may very well be the second most powerful man in the empire-after the Sultan of course- and he seems to have decided you are a threat to his master.

Getting him on your side might just be the thing you need to propel yourself in the court. If you manage to do that anyway. Selim is known as a tough man to charm, but who knows what hides underneath.

The Valide Sultan: Nazli

The Sultan may rule the world, but have no doubt his mother rules the harem and she does so with an iron fist. She controls everything. Who does the chores, how much gold each maid is afforded, who gets to enter the Sultan's chambers. She has her finger on the pulse of the harem. She wants things a certain way and she will have things a certain way. This Queen Dowager is every bit as much of a lion as her son.

She is distant, but not unkind. Most importantly, she can raise you to the highest of highs or doom you to the dungeons in less than a glance. You will have to earn her respect before she accepts you into the inner circle.

The Favourite (?): Meryem

Meryem is the most beloved of the Sultan's concubines. Or rather she was. For unknown reason, it seems she has fallen out of his favour. Rumor is it has been a year since he asked for her.

Still, her position remains significant as the mother to the only son of the Sultan. Her son, Mustafa, in combination with the support she receives from the Grand Vizier has helped her hold onto her power.

But her position remains insecure while the Sultan's eyes wander. You could intergrate yourself amongst her closest companions. Or you could be the downfall she so fears.

The Artist: Emil De Angelis

Emil is a... controversial presence at court to say the least. He was raised from a starving artist to the next big sensation by the Sultan overnight. He has been involved in several projects ever since, whether that be art, poetry, singing or architecture. Known around court for his -perhaps a bit too daring- wit and charming smirk, it is hard not to notice him.

He is also the closest to a friendly face you have at court. Emil has handpicked you as his next side project of sorts. The new thing he will concern himself with to fill up his time. You will have his support in whatever you strive for.

Be warned though. Emil acts with ulterior motives as much as anyone else at court.

The Childhood Friend (shouldn't they be dead?): Helena

You thought you had lost them. They died in your arms. You held her body. You carried it. You buried it.

Now they are back. Somehow they have returned from beyond the grave.

The worst part?

They don't even remember you.

Asks: Open

Demo: https://href.li/?https://cookie-bun.itch.io/gilded-cage

[animentality]

Do you think Gortash would still love Durge even after their bad ending (you know when they betray Bhaal and choose to surrender themselves to prison at the end) and they’ve gone mad?

For example, let’s say in an alternate scenario where Gortash survives at the end of the game. All the other companions have abandoned Durge, do you think Gortash would step in and try to help them? Do anything?

I've wracked my brain at night thinking about it.

On the one hand, the part of me that looks exclusively at in game Gortash says that Gortash wouldn't love them without power and without reason.

Because the more canon aligned Gortash is more pragmatic than emotional and although I do think his feelings verged into the impractical, he still fundamentally needs balance.

He's a domineering kind of guy, he gets along with Durge because they refused to be cowed in any way by him, and he dared not pity them or treat them with anything less than the utmost respect.

He can't sweep them under his tidal wave of personality, he crashes upon their shore, and they chip away at each other, grain by grain, in a tumultuous but steady balance.

they had a tango, you know. two partners working together. sex and love stemmed from something other than practicality, but it was practicality that brought them together initially.

He loves the Dark Urge for their power and reason, and without those two things... maybe he wouldn't seek them out.

especially not after they betrayed him.

and I don't know. the more assholish Gortash would see their alliance as having reached its inevitable conclusion. the more... emotional but distant Gortash would say, goodbye, old friend.

I wish you could've escaped your master, as I escaped mine.

and he wouldn't see them again.

but canon aligned Gortash is underwritten anyway.

so I'll do Larian's job for them and say...

well.

it could go either way.

I can see Gortash abandoning them because he is literally unable to look upon his former love, completely without freewill, and not feel soul crushing, life ending despair.

I could see it being too painful to see them when he knows he can't help them and they can't be helped by anyone, and they're gone, and he has to accept that.

again.

but I can also see...

a determined Gortash.

who has nothing now, except perhaps a desire for revenge against Durge. but as they are, mad and alone and insatiable, why even bother, right?

Bhaal has tortured them more than Gortash ever could.

maybe he keeps them locked in a basement somewhere, and at first it's just to lord it over them. mock their failure, their inability to prevent themselves from becoming like this.

in the beginning, he's still bitter about his plan failing and he blames them. to him, maybe it's a cosmic justice...

he says you could've ruled the world with me at your side and Bhaal and Bane at our backs.

but you chose this instead.

but as time goes on, his heart softens and he starts wondering if they're in there somewhere.

the only person who could understand him.

whom he could understand truly.

and maybe they're down there somewhere, trying to be understood again.

so he shows them things he hopes they remember about the life they shared together for a brief but important time. maybe books they talked about. blueprints he showed them of his future inventions. their notebooks, left behind. their old clothing, left over after long nights spend fucking and arguing.

maybe he tries to find a cure. he has some medical expertise, right? from dissecting people. maybe he tries to find a solution, some way to bring them back. maybe he pours himself into studies of bhaalspawn and deeper magic, trying to find some way to bring back a person whose mind has been ravaged into nothing.

but worst case scenario ...

he has to give up on all that... and give them the death he knows they would've asked for, had they been conscious.

so.

yeah.

anon. I've thought of it.

[toxic-libra]

style - jwy (m)

pairing: wooyoung x fem!reader (interactive here) words: 6.9k genre: second chance romance, smut warnings: 3rd person pov, this is 'based' on style - taylor swift, mentions of old hollywood movies (please watch them bc they're super good), smut with biting, thigh riding, oral (m and f), not my best work but give me a chance pls a/n: i was supposed to post this on his bday, but i was at taylor's concert and lmao i kind of got depressed after and hated everything i wrote. this is my debut with ateez so i wanted it to be perfect, but inspiration just fucked me up and i decided to post it anyway since it's been too long already :(

Jung Wooyoung remembered it all too well. He remembered how the delicate musky sandalwood of her signature perfume made his heart tug whenever she was near, the way his stomach flipped when their eyes met, and how his fingers always itched to be touching hers.

Autumns and winters were always the worst.

He could hear all the lines of Rebecca (1940), one of her favourite movies, whenever someone tried to make small talk with him about the weather.

‘Most girls will give their eyes for a chance to see Monte.’

Clenching his jaw, he locked his phone and tossed it aside, trying to digest the fact he was the one who took that damn picture and she decided to post it just when it had been two months since they las saw each other. Not that she was as considerate as to block him so he wouldn’t spend hours on her social media, feeding on any crumble of appearance she dignified her followers with.

Y/N was petty like that.

She didn’t block him, no. She muted him and vanished from his life, but she didn’t give him the pleasure of not having to erase her from his world. If he wanted her truly gone, then he had to do it himself… Which, of course, proved to be a failure.

Because he didn’t want her gone. He tried moving on, only it didn’t work.

Wooyoung wondered if she also thought they made a huge mistake.

Turning his streaming service on, he searched for another one of her 40’s TOP5. Clicking on ‘The Shop Around the Corner (1940)’, the Old Fashioned tasted way bitter on his tongue than it should.

With a condescending sigh, he relaxed against his couch, and waited for Klara Novak (played by Margarete Sullavan) and Alfred Kralik (James Stweart – not surprisingly, one of Y/N’s favourite actors) to engage in their enemies to lovers plot as if he didn’t see that damn movie a thousand times already. Only this time, like others during this year apart, she wasn’t around to swoon over any minor interaction and to almost beam in happiness when Mr. Kralik said:

‘Take me out of my envelope and kiss me.’

Oh, there he went again… Quoting old movies like it was part of his personality.

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

A month later

Y/N dried her hair and breathed in the woody scent of her haircare products – a tiny bit of her heart warming at the thought of Wooyoung. He used to love how she smelled.

“Are you ready, big sis?” Jongho knocked at her bedroom door.

“Not even close! You can go first, I’ll tag along later.” She yelled back.

“I’ll wait, no problem. I’m afraid I’ll ruin the surprise by mistake.”

“You just wanna make sure you don’t miss his shocked face when he sees me.” She giggled.

“You know me too well.” He sighed in feigned despair. “But do hurry up, please.”

“I’ll try.”

Y/N couldn’t rush everything. She wanted to look so good Wooyoung would almost faint as soon as his eyes laid on her. Not that she wouldn’t almost faint either… Just the perspective of being at the same place he was made her throat dry.

She missed him in ways she never missed anyone else before.

Deciding on the black dress, she admitted that the fact that he loved that colour made her like it even more. The small slit that drew up her right thigh would also catch his attention, and she couldn’t wait to have it all for herself. Her jewellery were ones he gave her over her birthdays, just to poke at their own stupid game. She didn’t spend much time on make-up, choosing to remain simple and classic – eyeliner and red lipstick… Which Wooyoung also liked.

Most men hated being smudged with lip tint, but he adored it.

The first person she saw was Seonghwa. With one of the prettiest smiles that graced humanity, the tall and handsome man approached her with open arms.

“Isn’t this the greatest surprise ever?!” He chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“Glad you like it,” She hugged him tight. “Because I’m back for good.”

“Oh.” Although subtle, Hwa’s smile faltered slightly.

“What?” She frowned.

“Does everyone know you’re back?”

“As of now, just Jjong and you.”

“Right. Makes sense.” He muttered to himself, doing his best not to look over his shoulder. It would be heart wrenching to let Y/N see Wooyoung with his date first thing inside the party.

Of course, she would eventually meet them… There was no way his friend would be as crass as leaving the girl alone because his ex (and the woman he was still in love with) was back in town. Wooyoung could be a little impulsive, but he had manners. And Y/N probably wouldn’t get that hurt from it, but she’d get hurt, nonetheless.

“What makes sense?”

“Oh, the fact that the boys were so quiet. If they knew you were coming, they’d be hyped as fuck.” It wasn’t even a lie, just not exactly the truth. “Let’s grab you a drink and get going, then.”

Hwa’s smile was slightly off, but she didn’t point it out.

Ordering her standard autumn/winter drink – French Connection –, Y/N relaxed against the bar stool. Jongho was nowhere to be seen, which made her a bit insecure. Things were always bit easier when her brother was next to her.

“So, what else is new? How are you guys doing?”

She was fishing for information, obviously. She couldn’t directly ask about Wooyoung because her friends didn’t know they secretly met in Monaco more often than not.

In her defence, the first time happened rather unexpectedly, and it led to a second, and a third… By the fourth, they decided it was better to pretend every time was an accident and keep their friends out of it. Wooyoung normally wouldn’t be this good keeping secrets, however, something in him had shifted. His boyish air had vanished almost completely, leaving his wicked jaw and sharp eyes without the warmth he once carried within him.

He walked with confidence, still. Nonetheless, every move seemed calculated, controlled. The carefree Jung Wooyoung she loved was swept by the future CEO Jung. And while she looked at Seonghwa, she wondered if he had noticed that too.

“We’re fine… We’ll probably be even better with you around now.”

“I hope so.” she grinned as the bartender handed her a glass. “Oh, thank you. Where are the lads? I want to see them. Is everyone here? Hongjoong too?”

With a sigh, he held her hand. “Listen, darling, I’ve something to tell you.”

“Go on.”

“Woo… Wooyoung came here with a girl.”

For a second, Y/N felt the air burning her lungs at the same time someone punched her stomach. Well, she supposed he wouldn’t stay single forever… However, the fact that she had to witness it a month after meeting him was too sour and pitiful. “Oh, I see.” Her voice came out crooked.

“It’s nothing serious, I’m sure. Just a date for the party.” Hwa squeezed her fingers tenderly. “You know he’s still as much in love with you as you are with him.”

But before she could react to his words, her attention laid on the man in question: dressed in a black three-piece suit, his dark long hair was slicked back, only some bangs’ locks falling off from the gel hairstyle. Y/N clenched her jaw, heart thumping so fast she was sure everyone could hear it. Luckily, there was no girl next to him, only her friends.

“Shall we go greet them?” With a haughty pose, one that differed completely from what she felt inside, she tugged at Hwa’s arm, dragging him towards their group.

In slow motion, Wooyoung watched Y/N approach him. When their eyes met, the party seemed to disappear, only the two of them in the ballroom. His fingers flexed on the Old Fashioned glass, demanding a lot of self-control as not to rush to her, hug her tight and kiss her senseless. He couldn’t do that for a thousand reasons, but the impulse was almost cruel.

He still loved her.

He was afraid he’d always love her.

“Long time no see, Wooyoung.” Her smirk was subtle, and there was a twinkle of mirth in her beautiful orbs. The playful tone was laced with politeness, but he knew her all too well.

As if they didn’t see each other a month ago in Monaco, he breathed slowly, letting his lips stretch and mimic hers. “Long time no see, Y/N.”

Straightening her back, her suave pose disappeared as a girl’s hand rolled around his forearm. Then, the jest was replaced by possessiveness, gaze darkening. Jealousy was the lousiest bitch.

“Oh, hello! I’m Lia.”

Well, at least that didn’t come accompanied by ‘His girlfriend’.

“Enchanted. I’m Y/N Choi.”

And since the girl didn’t react at the sound of her name, Y/N supposed she was rather new there. Lia was new enough to not know about her, and wouldn’t stick around enough to do so.

“I can’t believe she’s back!” Hongjoong celebrated, a huge grin on his face and open arms.

“I’m back, Joong.” She agreed, hugging him. “Back for good!”

“That’s awesome!”

“Were you living abroad?” Lia questioned, curious.

Y/N sipped on her drink, cocking her head to the side. “I wouldn’t call it ‘living’, but you could say that, yeah.” It was more like ‘suffering while trying to pretend everything was fine’.

“Why, though?” The quip came from Wooyoung. His eyes were glinting with a mix of grudge and challenge. “I thought you’ve always wanted to move abroad.”

“Where did you live? Europe? The USA?” Lia butted in.

“I spent some time between London and Monaco.”

“Oh my God! Monaco must’ve been a dream! I’ve heard there are some cute guys there, and rich too. Did you meet any? Are they really handsome?”

Y/N chuckled, feeling rather silly for being jealous of that girl. No one would dare to talk about crushes and money in front of a potential boyfriend, so that meant Lia felt nothing for Wooyoung, right? “Oh, I wasn’t feeling like… Meeting new people there.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Why meet any boy if her heart was still set on her ex? Why pretend she could replace him with another rich dude?

She couldn’t, it was pointless.

Not when Monaco screamed them. If she was Taylor Swift, ‘Cornelia Street’ would be called ‘Monte Carlo’. And like Taylor said on her lyrics, Y/N couldn’t walk around any corner of the small principality without being reminded of Jung Wooyoung.

It didn’t help that, although breaking up, they engaged in secret rendezvous more often than not… And each reunion just proved her how any other men paled in comparison to him. It was ridiculous to have an ‘affair’ with her own ex-boyfriend; she always condemned people that broke up and still kept hooking up with each other… Until it happened to her.

To be quite honest, the reason they broke up wasn’t exactly because of bad behaviour. There wasn’t cheating, nor deceiving. They didn’t fall out of love, either – in fact, Y/N was sure she loved him even more with each month apart. However, love alone wasn’t enough to calm her restless mind, and he too seemed eager for… Well, she didn’t know?! Things were just different. The weight of responsibilities and the need to make something, any difference in the world drove them apart.

Wooyoung was taking his position in his father’s business, and Y/N had no idea of what to do with her life (again). She acknowledged her timing was shitty, for he needed something concrete to hold onto while everything changed… But… She was afraid of not being good enough for him. He was becoming the Business Prince he was born to be, and she… She was just the shallow heiress with nothing important on her ‘life curriculum’ that the media thought her to be.

Then, London seemed a good escape.

It was a familiar place, offering her some comfort. Not warm and soothing like Wooyoung’s presence in her existence, but enough to keep her going.

She occupied her mind with a Master’s degree in Creative Writing, and when it was over, she had the overwhelming desire to call Wooyoung and tell him she finally did something about those 68 stories she wrote throughout her writing life.

Now, they were face to face and she didn’t know what to exactly say.

“Right…” Jongho intervened. “Big sis, we should greet some people now.”

And like smoke, Y/N disappeared from his sight for the next hour.

Ordering his third Old Fashioned, Wooyoung recognised the almond-shaped red nails, especially the black onyx ring on her middle finger.

“A Death in The Afternoon, please.” She smiled at the bartender.

“No French Connection?” He looked at her.

“Summer habits die hard.”

“I thought you preferred winter.”

“Any champagne of preference, miss?” The man asked Y/N.

“Veuve Clicquot.” They answered at the same time.

She sighed, biting a faux grin and playing with the gold band on her finger. “I see we still have some stuff in common… Does your date like signet rings?”

Wooyoung was wearing his black onyx signet ring… Y/N’s one twin.

“I’ve no idea; never asked her.” His eyes traced her neck. “No pearls?”

“Not with black satin.” She quoted Rebecca (1940), heart thumping with expectation.

“I thought it was never wearing neither one nor the other.”

Thank God he still remembered the movie!

“You can’t blame me for loving pearls and black satin, I look divine in them.” She jested, flicking her hair in a haughty way. “So, I try not to wear them together.”

Ogling her from head to toe, Wooyoung’s grin was one of a panther, although he felt his stomach tightening and the annoying dryness of his throat. “Cheers to that. You do look divine.”

“Thank you. I put a lot of effort in this.”

“It wasn’t needed. You look good in anything.” ‘Even better if stark naked’, but he obviously wouldn’t say that. Before he could comment on something else, his drink arrived. “Thanks, lad.” Turning to her once more, he kept grinning, although less sincerely. “So, see you around, Y/N.”

“Wait.” She called out before she could stop herself. He just raised his eyebrow, like he used to do whenever giving someone his initial attention. “I was hoping we could talk about my being back home… At some point this weekend, maybe?! Are you free?”

“I’ll be free after the party, if you want.”

“Well, don’t you have other plans with your date?”

“I don’t and you already know that.”

“Why did you invite her?”

“I couldn’t just invite you, could I?” He retorted.

Her jaw clenched, swallowing the apology. They were in public, not the right place to discuss their relationship. “Text me when you’re ready, and we can meet up.”

“Alright.”

“See you later, then, Woo.”

“See ya, Y/N.”

Wooyoung still lived in the same penthouse. It was painful sometimes, for the whole place had a bit of Y/N in it. He kept their photographs, kept the clothes she left behind, kept everything he could. It wasn’t his wisest decision, however, breaking up with her wasn’t one of them either.

And now she was back.

She was back and wanted to talk about it.

Now, way past three in the morning, he wasn’t drunk, but had the weirdest taste on his mouth – something like hope. His heart was beating heavily against his chest, and he couldn’t wait to smell her again. To touch her, kiss her, set every emotion free.

Dragging himself to the mirror of the entrance hall, he combed his hair with his fingers and smoothed out his shirt, opening two buttons just because.

At the sound of the doorbell, he took a deep breath and straightened his back.

“Well…”

The small, almost timid smile Y/N gave him was enough to make his knees wobble.

“Hi there… Uh…” She opened her arms. “Here I am.”

With a chuckle, one that made her eyes water a bit, for it resembled the Old Wooyoung so much, he let his body cage hers, holding her in a tight hug.

Wooyoung always gave the best hugs.

“Hi there, love.” His voice was slightly raspy, quite full of emotion, the nickname slipping past his tongue before he had any chance to keep it locked.

They remained there for a minute or two, feeding on each other’s presence and feeling each other’s warmth as if the sun was finally out after a fortnight-long storm.

“I’m back, Woo.” She said against his torso. “I’m back for good now.”

“And what does it mean?”

Y/N knew he wanted to hear her exact words, even though he already knew why she was there. And, because she loved him so, she didn’t have any problem laying her chest bare for him.

“It means I’m sorry I backed off when you needed support. Sorry I freaked out and thought lowly of me, and ended up hurting you… Hurting us in the process.” She put some distance between them, trying to be as honest as possible. “All this time apart proved to me that you’re my only one and I was really dumb for thinking I could ever move on from you.” She offered him a shy smile. “I wanted to be worthy of you, but I didn’t understand I could do that while being with you. My mind and insecurities blinded me, and I ran away. I hurt you deeply, and I’m so very sorry for it.”

Wooyoung nodded, face serious.

“You did hurt me.” He agreed. “I wondered what had happened, why you stopped loving me.”

“I didn’t.”

“This was clear by our second meeting in Monaco.” His grin was slightly off. “But it angered me that, although we kept seeing each other, you never suggested for us to get back together.”

“I still thought you deserved better.”

“Well, turns out I’m the one who gets to decide who or what is good for me, Y/N. And you were it.” He noticed how her expression dropped, probably due to the use of past tense. And Wooyoung had learned to be cruel to others, his job required him to be cold and controlled, but he could never be like that with Y/N. “And you still are, even though you hurt me.” Her beautiful eyes stared at his, hopeful. “When I saw you at the party tonight, the world slowed down. It’s no use pretending I don’t miss you and I don’t love you; we’re old enough to stop playing these games now. It was alright when you were in Europe, but now you’re back, and I’m not in the mood for halves. So, it’s either all of it, or nothing at all. It’s either starting over together, or ending everything.”

She didn’t hesitate, despite the ultimatum. “I want to start over. I want to be with you.”

“So no running away whenever things get difficult, nor making assumptions, ok?! I’m not one of giving second chances, Y/N.” He warned. “And I’m not interested in having my heart broken again. I hate being like this, hate being sceptical and cold. This isn’t me.”

Y/N nodded. “I won't let my insecurities and paranoia hurt you again.”

“You can talk to me, you know? I want to make you happy, see you happy. If things get hard, I’m more than honoured to be your safe-haven… You don’t have to move to fucking Europe to sort it out.” He rolled his eyes, sounding more like the Wooyoung he once was.

“Want me to pinkie-promise?” She stuck her pinkie out, grinning.

“God, how I’ve missed your inability to take things serious!”

“Hey! I’m mature now.”

“Nah,” He shook his head, one hand cupping her cheek. “You’re mine now.”

“I’ve been yours the whole time, and I don’t plan on running away ever again.”

“Thank God.” Wooyoung whispered against her lips, starting a searing kiss.

Y/N relished in his lips, fingers threading in his dark locks. He tasted like Old Fashioned and home; he felt like the rays of sunshine on a spring day; he smelled like the best mix of spiciness and man. She couldn’t get enough of him, and it was pointless trying to pretend so.

“Woo, I…” Her voice was breathy, conflicted.

“You…?” He frowned, brown eyes fixed on hers. “Should I stop?”

“No, don’t!” She sighed. “It’s just… I don’t know if… There’s something I need to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“I…” Well, they’d agreed to be back together, right? It was better getting it off her chest quickly, so he wouldn’t doubt her later on. “I love you.”

With an easy smile, one that obviously didn’t mirror the flood of emotions, Wooyoung kissed her urgently, again. She sighed against his mouth, tongue quickly searching for his before she lost her last thinking brain cell. It didn’t take more than a minute before a cheeky and feminine hand found its way down his torso, tracing with pointy nails from his belly to his crotch. Wooyoung pulled her hair, pushing her face upwards and changing their kiss angle, then, he groped her ass, relishing on the feeling of her plump bottom and the luxurious velvet of her dress.

Y/N gasped for air, pressing sloppy kisses on his jaw and neck. She gave him small bites, sucking on his skin and mirroring how she would do on more private areas. She untucked his shirt off his trousers and fumbled with his belt, patience running thin.

Why the fuck was he wearing a belt, in the first place?!

“Don’t you dare getting on your knees now.” He warned, predicting her actions.

“Pardon?” She hesitated.

“I’ll come so fast if you give me a blowjob now, we’ll lose all the fun.” There was an adorable blush on his cheeks, despite his mockery tone and bossy warning before.

Her heart tugged at the sight.

“Then we do need a new approach, for I was really hoping to choke on your cum as soon as possible.” Now it was her turn to say something obscene with flushed cheeks.

“May I choke on yours first?” He offered, a smirk growing on his lips.

“By all means.” Y/N giggled, shaking her head in agreement.

Wooyoung pushed her against the wall, eyeing her for a brief second before stealing another kiss. At every stroke of his tongue there was a silent promise; he tried to pour both love and lust in it. Then, he got on his knees, pushing her dress upwards and revealing her legs. Y/N helped him by holding on the skirts, bunching the fabric up next to her waist. She felt his hands on her feet, undoing her shoes, then they were on shins, tickling their way to her thighs until they rested on her bum, kneading at the flesh in pure hunger.

Wooyoung kissed her lower stomach, nibbling lightly at her smooth skin. “I’ve missed you so much.” He murmured against her, grip tightening.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“But I’ve missed you more.”

“Is this a competition?” She eyed him in defiance.

“What if it is?!”

Y/N chuckled, combing his hair out of his forehead.

“Then I won.”

“I don’t think so.” Wooyoung touched her panties, his thumb drawing small circles right on her core. He kissed her right there, his tongue swiping up and down the lace and its warmth travelling through the fabric, making her shiver. “You better hold onto my shoulders, love.”

Y/N moaned loudly, feeling her legs bend a bit and skin tingle. She quickly took her dress off and tossed it aside; getting drunk in the way Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled as he looked up, hypnotised by her boobs. She rested her head against the wall with a loud thud, but pain was the last thing on her mind. Slowly, he rolled her undergarments down and launched his mouth on her, sucking and licking in lazy strokes like those that he knew would drive her insane. His touch, his kisses, his presence… She beamed in joy at the sight of him, and she would regret every second of their breakup because it was a waste of time for both of them. As for Wooyoung, he knew no other woman would compare to her; no one else fitted him as Y/N did.

She tugged at his hair, forcing her hips down to create a bit more friction. His short nails scratched her thighs, bringing her even closer. Normally, she would prefer to lay, but there was something rather wicked about that position, especially knowing that they were by the door… It didn’t matter he lived in the penthouse, she wondered if people on the other floors could listen.

His heart fluttered as she came, the most wicked and lustful moan of his name coming from her lips. Y/N felt gooey, her legs begging for buckling down and resting anywhere… Preferable on a bed… However, Wooyoung seemed to have other plans.

Tugging her by the hand, he brought her to the nearest chair in his living room and sat down with her nestled on his lap. He kissed her jaw, delicately biting at the flesh.

“Ride my thigh, love.” He murmured against her chin. It sounded like a suggestion, but Y/N understood the meaning: an order.

“While you’re wearing trousers?”

“Mm-hm.” He shook his head in agreement, finger pads pinching one of her nipples.

“Won’t it stain?”

Wooyoung’s eyes flew back to hers, a mockery gleam fighting its way beyond the lust.

“Are you trying to gain yourself some minutes?”

Busted.

Ugh, how she hated him for knowing her so well!

“I’m just thinking about how embarrassing it’ll be for those doing your laundry.”

“I’ll do it instead.”

“You? Doing the laundry?!” Y/N grinned in pure jest. “Jung Wooyoung, part-time millionaire and part-time CEO, doing housework?!”

“Full-time millionaire and full-time love of your life, as decided minutes ago.”

“What an amazing career.”

“You just gotta focus on what you do best.” He shrugged, putting on a serious expression though his voice was soft, cheerful even.

“Well, God help me, for you do that perfectly.”

Y/N kissed him, shivering when his arms rounded her waist to pull her closer to his crotch.

“Ride my thigh, Y/N.” Wooyoung said again.

Her eyes flew shut after listening to her name falling from his lips. Promptly, she moved, straddling his leg and rocking her hips against his pants. One of Wooyoung’s hands groped on her ass while the other went up, scratching her ribs on the way to her boobs. His head dipped down, tongue darting around the bud, licking and sucking it as he felt her body tensing.

“It’s too much.” She moaned.

He paid her no mind, keeping the assault until she started trembling.

“Can’t you take it?” He rasped against her collarbones. “Can’t you do it for me?”

Y/N gulped, mouth dry and heart beating so fast she was sure Wooyoung could hear it. She was also sure he knew she would do whatever he wanted as long as he kept making her feel good, so she just went back on grinding on his thigh without answering directly to his question. Besides, words escaped her as her second orgasm approached.

“Fuck, love, you’re fascinating.” it came out breathy, Wooyoung’s teeth sinking onto her shoulder. He felt the spot next to his knee wet, noticed her hips losing strength speed.

It was the second bite that undid her truly. She shook, nails leaving red lines on his backs and arms tightening around his neck, bringing him even closer. Then she collapsed against him, panting. Wooyoung peppered kisses around her jaw, smoothing her hair and praising her for being the best of girls, for obeying him and cumming again.

“Wooyoung,” Y/N croaked. “I’ve made a mess of your trousers.”

“It’s ok, love. We’ll take it off.” He smiled softly. “Are your legs working?”

“Barely, but I can try to stand up.”

“No, no, no. I’ll just put you...” He murmured while pushing her to the side and standing up himself, leaving her on the chair. “See? I’ll take it off.”

“Oh, no, wait!” Y/N slapped his hand. “Let me do this.”

Fuck, he could cum on the spot. She really was at his house, the living room’s dim light casting over her while she fumbled with his trousers, and it downed on Wooyoung that she was back.

And she still loved him.

And they were together again.

“Here, sit down, you’re making me uncomfortable.” She gestured, getting on her feet too.

Oh, damn, he knew where that was going.

“What did I tell you about getting on your knees?”

“You choked on my cum already, now it’s my turn. Be fair!” Y/N pouted.

Wooyoung blinked slowly, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, God, the things I wanna do to you.” His thumb caressed her bottom lip. Soon, he forced it in, attentively staring at her mouth while she sucked it inside, cheeks hollowing. “Please, if you could do the same to my dick, I would…”

“It’ll be a pleasure.” Y/N chuckled, bringing his hand to full view and tracing her tongue on the tip of his finger. His chestnut eyes were a shade darker, pupils blown open.

“All mine, I guarantee.”

But before she could dive in, a familiar ringtone erupted from the floor, his trousers vibrating at the rhythm. It startled them, though Y/N’s reaction was only a small grin whereas Wooyoung’s was an annoyed grunt, cussing in a low voice.

“Maybe you should pick it up?”

“Absolutely not.” He refused to move and spoil the moment. His dick was hard, he finally had her back and between his legs (ready to suck the soul out of him)… He waited more than a fucking year for that, whoever called could damn wait too.

“What if it’s important?”

“There’s nothing more important than your pretty mouth around my cock, love.”

“But…”

“On your knees, darling.”

She gulped, slightly annoyed by the fact he could change the mood with only one phrase. It never failed to surprise how much effect he had on her.

Trying not to let his temper rise, Y/N went back between his legs. She caressed his thighs, nails trailing them slightly. Then, she went up, unbuttoning his shirt while he glanced at her with a hunger in his eyes. She pushed off his shirt, being awarded with the sight of his tattoo. Hands palming his torso, she mapped his skin, tracing the Latin phrase, wanting nothing more than to eat him open. She licked her lips, heart thumping loudly against her ribcage.

“Why are you staring?” He wondered. “Do I look too tempting?” He jested.

“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. “Delicious as fuck and all mine.”

“I like how it sounds.” Wooyoung dipped his head down, pecking her lips. “And you’re all mine.”

“Always have been.” She agreed.

His stomach churned at the gleam of lust in her beautiful eyes. “Suck.”

The order came out simple and serious, a bit like the new Wooyoung he was.

Y/N’s hands found purchase on his thighs, the very ones she rode a while ago. Well, she was already in the rain… Let it all get wet.

Literally.

She gathered some saliva, palming his dick and spitting right on its head. Wooyoung breathed audibly, chest rising in a lungful expanse. Y/N moved her hand on him, spreading her spit and hearing his quiet moan. With a grin, she closed her eyes and sank down on his shaft, tongue circling the tip and tasting the salty pre-cum.

“Fuck.” He groaned.

She wasn’t that good with having dicks on her throat, always gagging and getting teary eyed, but this time she wanted to surprise him. She wanted to make him feel as marvellous as she felt during her two orgasms. Hence, she watched her breathing and swallowed him deeper. Wooyoung said something through gritted teeth, a hand flying to her hair and holding her head in place. Y/N hollowed her cheeks, bobbing up and down for a brief minute, forcing the movement against Wooyoung’s command. His hips bucked, making his cock hit her throat and she feel the burn in her eyes, tears coming almost automatically.

“Fuck, love, you’re gonna…”

He was cut mid-sentence by her gaze and thought he would explode. If there was anything hotter than her sucking him off and his cock was gagging her… Wooyoung didn’t really want to know. He honestly wouldn’t survive it.

Y/N repeated the motion, then she backed off with a gasp, drooling all over him. His hands were shaking, making him slightly embarrassed.

“Don’t stop even if I gag.” She ordered.

“Ugh, the things I wanna do to you, darling…”

“It’ll have to wait a bit.” She kept her fingers busy, caressing him while she took a breath.

Then, Wooyoung watched, mesmerised, Y/N’s wickedness take control: she turned her attention to his balls, licking it up and nibbling at the sensitive skin like he used to do with her clit. Words escaped him, so all he did was let out a raspy moan, tightening his grip on her hair.

Her tongue swirled around his shaft and she swallowed him again, tilting her head slightly so he could start fucking her mouth. He caught on her idea and adjusted his position, moving his hips smoothly, testing the angle. Y/N gagged once again, because that way he hit a spot too close to her throat, and although it was a bit uncomfortable, she couldn’t be hornier. Just tasting him and hearing him moan, knowing it was her own doing… It made her all wet and desperate. Glancing up, she locked eyes with Wooyoung – he looked hypnotised, almost drunk on the scene… On her.

It was all so erotic, so lustful, so right. He couldn’t tear his gaze as his dick disappeared on her plump lips, accepting all of him in as if she was born to suck him off, as if she was starving for it.

“Can I cum in your mouth, love?” He asked, wiping a small tear from her eye, his thumb caressing her cheekbone while he kept thrusting inside. “Or should I cum in your pussy?”

She whimpered, doing her best to shake her head positively, nails clawing at his thighs for support. Her knees were starting to hurt, legs sore and quite numb, but she really wanted to taste him before they properly fucked.

At her consent, Wooyoung’s mind clouded, Y/N being the only thought echoing. He shivered, the orgasm hitting so strong his belly clenched and his toes curled; he spilled inside her mouth, a deep, sexy groan erupting from his own.

Y/N swallowed and wiped her mouth, climbing his legs and sitting on his lap. She caressed his face, drawing all of his angles and mapping them on her mind once again.

“I love you.” She whispered next to his ear. “And I intend to make it up to you every day.”

“You’re a fucking minx.” Wooyoung murmured, a small smile reaching his mouth.

“Full-time minx?” She joked.

“Yeah. And full-time love of my life, so don’t fret.”

“Good.” Y/N stole a peck. “Good.”

They kissed in a lazy, tooth-aching romantic dance. He could taste himself on her tongue, and it was addictive, making him want to ravish her on the spot.

Then, after catching some breath and regaining more strength, Wooyoung hooked his arms around her legs and stood up, grinning at her wide eyes and high-pitched yelp.

“Hold tight, love. We’re going to the couch.”

“You should’ve said that before.” She giggled.

Wooyoung moved as if he was used to carry her all the time. Laying her down, he hovered over her, kissing her once more. This time, it was sloppy, teeth clashing as they touched each other all over – Y/N’s sharp nails digging at his back, leaving red lines on its length, while he groped at her thighs and ass, letting her wet pussy grind against his stomach and hips. She moaned, breaking the kiss and bending her head backwards when she felt his touch creeping down, stopping right at her core. Wooyoung didn’t mind it, kissing her neck instead, and plunging two fingers inside her, moving them slowly.

“Oh, fuck.” Y/N cursed. “Please, Woo, please.”

“What are you begging for, love?” He chuckled, eyes sparkling with mirth and lust, heart beating a bit too fast at her desperation, at the fact that she was his again.

“You.” Her teeth tucked his bottom lip at the same time she tugged at his hair, her pupils blown wide, hungry and desperate for anything he could give her. “Always for you.”

“But I’m already yours, Y/N.”

“But I want more. I want everything, Woo.”

“Your wish is my command, darling.” Setting his fingers free, it was time to fuck her properly.

He thrusted, finally linking their bodies. She hugged him, nails digging onto his back and leaving crescent marks; her legs pulled him even closer. His cock twitched, being devoured by her tight cunt. Wooyoung couldn’t even control his own muscles, so eager for his own release and to make Y/N feel good, like she deserved after repenting.

They were so focused on each other that every movement felt calculated, synchronised. Where she went, he followed, and vice-versa. His belly tensed up when one of her hands held his ass, groping at it while she let out a low, sexy laugh.

“You fucking minx.”

“It’s mine to touch,” She pouted, bathed in feminine power. “All mine.”

Something switched in his demeanour and Y/N gasped in surprise as he pulled her arms up, a strong hand blocking them from moving.

“Well, you’re all mine too. Mine to touch,” He brought another hand up, fingers intertwining with hers. “Mine to kiss,” A hungry, wet kiss stolen. “Mine to please,” His pace quickened, cock throbbing while she clenched around it. “Mine to…”

Love.

He growled, combusting in emotions. Y/N seemed to understand, because her eyes shone in a warm, romantic gleam. She got teary, pleasure so unbearable, so suffocating her body couldn’t take it anymore. She was still sensitive from the other orgasm, which made this one stronger, more devastating. Gripping at Wooyoung’s hands, she found in him her safe-haven.

Feeling her clenching around him just made his dick harder, and he was surprised at the fact… Normally he had to rest a bit before he went from one orgasm to another. Sitting up, Wooyoung hugged her by the waist, bringing her body closer, letting her nipples grind against his torso as she rocked against him in a steady speed. Bouncing, Y/N created enough friction and Wooyoung moved to match her speed, their muffled moans paired up with their hips colliding were the only noises echoing in the room.

They kissed again, messily and hungrily. She held him with such strength, anchoring on him as if her life depended on that. It was intense and raw, her body subconsciously trying to conquer his, claim his as hers… Although she didn’t need that anymore. He wouldn’t belong to anyone else… He didn’t want to. It was Y/N from the beginning.

“I’ll probably leave some red marks on your shoulders…”

“It’s ok.” He kissed her jaw, muffling another moan.

At each sharp and fast thrust, at each moan and kiss, they got further lost on each other. His dick twitched in earnest, feeling her so snug and wet around him. Y/N trembled at the breath denial, causing her stomach to tighten in delight. Wooyoung felt his body giving up and cursed low, unable to hold back anymore.

“Love…” He rasped. “Are you with me?”

Her teary eyes were enough answer. Wooyoung wanted to say a couple dirty things, however, the grip she had on his cock robbed him his sanity, so he just plunged on her violently, guiding both of them to the climax. Y/N shook from head to toe, moaning his name like a prayer and squeezing him like she had claws. He bit on her shoulder again because he knew she loved that. His fingers dug into her skin, also leaving marks.

The only noises were their panting. He rested his face against her neck, giving it small bites and kisses. Playing with his dark, long locks, Y/N sighed in contempt. How could she think it was possible to be happy without him when she was only happy with him, because of him?!

“Why?” She heard his muffled voice.

“What?”

“Why are you sighing?” He moved slightly, so they could look at each other.

“Just because.”

“Perhaps because you’re in your favourite place in the world with your favourite person?”

She couldn’t help but chuckle. “God, you’re so conceited!” Slightly tugging at his hair, she shook his head a bit. “My favourite place is Monaco.”

“This still makes me your favourite person.” He grinned.

“Aren’t you going to sleep?” Playfully rolling her eyes, she pouted.

“I’m not tired at all. I suggest we grab a bottle of Veuve Clicquot and celebrate a bit more, hm?”

“Will you help me remove my make-up first?”

“Of course, it’s classic Y/N-Wooyoung behaviour.”

She smiled, knowing that everything would be alright again.

[avelera]

I think one reason social class stuff is such a big part of how I write Dreamling is because, at its core if you accept them as a couple, if Hob and Dream are some level of perfect for each other, destined for each other maybe not literally but perfectly matched thanks to the supernatural omniscience of someone like Death setting them up together on purpose based on her greater knowledge of all living things, then it is such a powerfully egalitarian message for a romance.

If Hob really is the one person in all of existence that can handle Dream's bullshit, if he was only given the chance and the time for them to grow into being partners to one another, it's such an insanely profound message. It means that out of billions and billions of people over billions and billions of years, a commoner, a literal peasant was born with the qualities to be a match for one of the most powerful beings in the universe. That being born into the right class be it titles or riches or magical birth right don't actually matter as far as what makes two people suited to each other.

Even if you narrow it to just, say, the sweep of human history, that Death only picked a partner for Dream best suited for these few thousand years of written human history, maybe just for the lifetime of our planet, the message still holds without going all cosmic.

It means that an entirely normal person with no blood right at all, no inherent magical powers, no divine destiny, nothing to distinguish him even from the other soldiers at his table, someone who was born into one of the worst time periods to live through, living an entirely average life that would never make it into any history books except as a footnote, one of billions of people the great stories will simply forget, actually was extraordinary in a way that might have otherwise gone unappreciated but Hob would still have been here, his life still would have happened even if he never got the chance to explore the full potential of his resilience to immortality and his love of life.

If Hob's superpower that allows him to be a match for Dream is simply wanting to live so much that he can withstand the gift of immortality on a level that we rarely see in fiction, that alone is huge. Just some guy from a rainy little island with an entirely common profession of being some peasant soldier, manages to withstand the hardships of time better than immortal beings who were literally born into that existence and into the power and theoretically the supernatural comfort to polish away a lot of the day to day trials that would make living as a human for that span incredibly difficult, like hunger, and losing loved ones, and the daily grind of hardship.

Dream has all this power at his disposal, he is a being of the ultimate privilege. He can literally craft a realm for his comfort, people to be his companions who are best suited to serve him and his needs. Yes he is bound by a function but even that function is one of the richest parts of life: stories and songs and joy and sorrow. The things we toil for the rest of our life so we can carve out the time to indulge in those things. The truly great experiences. That's his job. Not saying it couldn't wear on you, only that it's not like he's Despair or Destruction or even Destiny, bound to helplessly watch all of time unfurl when you already know what's going to happen. Dream has one of the most desirable roles of all of the Endless, at least in theory. He's completed insulated by supernatural levels of privilege: powerful, male-presenting, beautiful, a literal monarch, with a kingdom of beings designed to serve him. The one inherent difficulty he might be argued to have is some form of clinical depression and of course the general traumas that accumulate over so long a lifetime. Not to dismiss it, or say he's not allowed to suffer, profoundly from this and what he's experienced, just to be clear that others have suffered from those things too without the other tools he has at his disposal. He is desperately alone and lonely too, which honestly makes it even more profound for him to have someone who wants to reach out to him.

So to say that Hob, who was not born with any of those privileges or tools, indeed, was born into one of history's most difficult centuries at a time when England was nothing more than a backwater and, yes, Hob is white and male and able bodied, etc, he does not have those privilege marks against him and that will mean more as time goes on and England rises to be a world-dominating superpower and being from there will evolve into a true privilege, but keep in mind, Hob's also from a time where his class, his birth mean he doesn't actually count as part of the "in crowd" of privileged people. He could never be part of his own government, he would not be invited to read or write or be any sort of force in the world. Until the century he was born into it was a vanishingly small likelihood someone like him could ever be more than a serf, legally bound to remain a serf no matter any ambition he might have had. If not for the extreme population loss of the Black Plague granting social mobility out of necessity, Hob could have lived and died as a serf, leaving no other record of his existence.

Instead, Hob's joy, his will to live, and his resilience to withstand eternity that he has as just one of his human qualities, puts him on a level with actual literal gods and creatures more powerful than gods. It means that there is no blood right or inherent structure that makes Dream better than him such that Hob would be inherently a poor match. It means just a guy, out of trillions, was best suited to be the lover of something as old as the universe and more powerful than a god. Because he could handle Dream's bullshit. Because his inherent joy and resilience made him a match to someone who more than anything needs someone like him who can put up with their bullshit, withstand it, look forward to seeing him, actually long for his presence in a way none of Dream's peers do.

That's just... wow I know I'm explaining myself in circle at this point, but I just can't get over it sometimes. Maybe it's the history buff in me just obsessing over someone so, so minor in the grand sweep of history being matched with someone so singularly powerful in this universe as Dream. But if you go with the popular headcanon that Death picked Hob just for the reason of being the best person in the world to be at least Dream's friend but maybe his lover and eventual partner, wow, that really just says something about birth and blood and magic not being the measure of any single beings actual importance to one another, I'm obsessed with it.

[clubdionysus]

[BAD DECISION #33] Boundaries (Or Lack Thereof)

warnings: miscommunication, kim seokjin!!!!, things are getting messy for our starluvrs, kissing, half a handjob, chess, even more miscommunication!!, fingering, titty sucking, star talk, 69, oral (m&f), ass eating (f), squirting, slight overstimulation, unprotected sex, creampie

wc: 12k

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

"Wait, wait, wait. Slow down," Hoseok mumbles through a mouthful of shreddies, the hand that isn't holding his cereal bowl waving around in the air. He swallows harshly, then clears his throat. Looks at you. Throws you an expression of disgust, almost as if you've just divulged your deepest darkest secret- although, in a way, you sort of have. "You went to a what with who ?!"

Rolling your eyes, you sink further into your state of despair, curled up in the confines of an armchair in the art cafe. Phone in your lap, you're ignoring the messages Seojoon sent through this morning to ask if you're free this week. Aren't sure you're in the right headspace to be dating.

On your break, today's shift is quiet. No one is in, and no one is booked in, either. It'll be quiet for the whole day. Just one of those rare occasions you cherish. Easy money.

That being said, Hoseok's insistence on being a nosey fucker is making it a hell of a lot more difficult.

It's not like you had planned on telling Hoseok about everything you'd done while away in Busan - but the photobooth pictures were still in your bag. You'd forgotten about them when you'd asked him to go and grab your charging cable for you. Had entirely slipped your mind that Jeongguk was kissing you like he was trying to win the MTV award for 'best kiss' in a fair few of them.

And you were also blissfully ignorant to the fact the branded love motel receipt was in your bag as well. Had just thrown that in there, too.

After all, it's your bag. You'd never intended on anyone seeing either of those. It's been a week since you returned home. Have barely thought about the contents of your bag since.

But as soon as Hoseok had shrieked, you knew his eyes had been violated - and your right to privacy had well and truly been ruptured.

"Since when have you two-"

"Please don't."

"- been fucking ?"

"Oh, god," you groan again, hand covering your eyes. Pulling the pillow out from behind your back, you press your face into it. Scream. Thankfully, it's muffled. Hoseok doesn't quite understand the pandemonium.

"Why are you so dramatic," he laughs, tugging on the corner of the pillow to steal it from you - but your grip is firm. You need the pillow, because you need somewhere to bury shame.

It's an odd thing, sex. It's the most human thing we can do. So natural and yet so weighted. It should be casual. It should be without consequence. It's human nature, after all. What we're 'supposed' to do.

And yet, you know the consequence of sex is huge . You know that sex isn't just about pleasure. You know there is more to it. Know that it's all primal, and that it goes back to being cavemen, or whatever, and building networks for survival - but you're pretty sure they fucked around without consequence, too. There are, like, nearly eight billion people to prove that assumption correct.

Okay, so maybe their offspring was the consequence of the inconsequential lays, but, like, you're on birth control. Should you have let him finish inside you? No, probably not. Is it the worst thing that could have happened? No, definitely not. Has it made you suddenly overly aware of exactly what you've been doing with Jeongguk for god-knows how long? Yeah. Just a little bit.

It's all you can think about.

Wake up; think about the weight of his body on top of yours.

Brush your teeth; think about him behind you in the bathroom mirror.

Go to work; think about that stupid canvas up in his living room.

Go home; think about what it'd be like if he showed up out of the blue with an incessant need to fuck you.

Shower; think about, well... showers. Just ones with him instead.

Go to bed; think about him, and his hair, and that stupid lip ring, and the way he giggles, and the way he gets all moany and - fuck .

You are corrupted . Like a computer malfunctioning, Jeongguk has ravaged your servers. You'd let him do it again, though. Without question.

And now you're thinking about it again. Squeeze your thighs together, 'cause you're remembering the way he kissed you in the elevator. Lips soft, tongue gentle. Oh God . He's your friend . Pull yourself together!

"It's not a big deal-"

"Remember that one time he lied to you?" Hoseok interrupts, perching his ass on one of the cafe tables just across from you, crossing his arms. You raise your head. Glare a little. He's dressed in white cargo pants and some obscure indie brand t-shirt, so perfectly him, but so awful for a job involving paint. You're in all black. Of course you are. "Remember how mad you were? Swear there was steam coming from your nose."

You're not sure where he's going with this, so you narrow your eyes. "No there wasn't. But what of it?"

Hoseok shrugs. Doesn't laugh, but he is smiling like an absolute fool. "I'll get moody with you, if you don't stop lying."

Your jaw drops. Voice rises in pitch. "I'm not lying!"

"Bullshit."

"Honest-"

"You wouldn't be reacting like this if it was no big deal!"

With a purse of your lips, you pause. Consider that maybe he has a point - but it doesn't matter. You don't want it to be a big deal.

So you'll fake it till you make it.

"Look, I'm just processing things! Like, okay, yeah we did fuck." Oh, what a glorious thing to admit. You fucked Jeon Jeongguk. He fucked you . Oh, what a mess. "But we're both very much in agreement that our friendship is too good to lose-"

"You don't fuck your friends," Hoseok interrupts, all very stoically. "At least, you've never fucked me, and no offence, but the idea of it makes my skin crawl."

"Yeah, but you're like my brother," you reply, not offended in the slightest. Would rather set yourself on fire than shag Hoseok. It's not that he's not attractive - he's got a smile that could end wars and a personality that you'd happily grow old with. You're just not attracted to one another like that. Simple as that.

Jeongguk... yeah. Something about him just really gets you going. Always has done. That first night is a little sketchy - but you never forgot the barman with the smile and little shots of purple magic. As handsome as he is kind, you sort of think every human attracted to men would feel this sort of way about Jeongguk.

"Well, what do you think?" You ask Hoseok. "About Jeongguk?"

"What about him?" Hoseok asks right back.

You adjust in your chair. Focus your attention fully on him. Your friendship flourished with discussions of your relationship issues, and his dating history isn't too dissimilar from yours. He doesn't label himself when it comes to his preferences. Just says he goes for 'vibes.' Shame, really, that the 'vibe' he goes tends to be that of 'toxic prick'.

"Well... I -" you struggle to form a coherent sentence. Pause. Think. Rephrase. "He's hot, right? Like, the kinda guy you'd expect to see on a billboard? Right, Hobes? He is hot?"

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Hoseok laughs, catching the pillow with ease as you toss it at him. "Yeah, he's hot. Probably in your top three lays."

You groan. Didn't need to be reminded. Also know that he thinks Seokjin is, like, the walking dictionary definition of 'gorgeous'. You wonder who he prefers, when it comes to looks. Decide that you're better off not knowing.

Even if Hoseok does think Seokjin is in that top three, he also knows how horribly he treated you and would never actually think nicely of him.

"Look," he sighs. "Jeongguk's a nice guy. I remember how things were this time last year. You and me... shit. We were both going through it. It was a really fuckin' sucky time."

You nod. Are thankful you had Hoseok while you were dealing with the demise of your relationship with Seokjin. He's just as thankful for you, in regard to his.

"Thing is, I don't know about you, but I can pinpoint the day it felt like we finally had you back. Took fuckin' ages. Was really hard to see you go through all that," he admits. There's a weight in your heart. Your era of self-destruction had been yours and yours alone. Not once did you consider that maybe it would be a heavy burden for those who loved you, too.

It was never a burden. Not in Hoseok's eyes, nor Danbi's. Just a cycle of life we all go through.

"I'm sorry," you say quietly, a little ashamed, aware of how many nights were wasted crying over a man who simply wasn't willing or able to love you. Not like he said he did.

Hoseok shakes his head. "Don't apologise. It was both of us. I know I wasn't easy, either."

"You were fine," you reassure him. "Totally fine. Honestly."

He rolls his eyes. Knows that he was partying way too hard.

"It doesn't matter. What I'm saying is that there was you before Jeongguk, and you after Jeongguk," he says kindly. Smiles; lips pursed together, eyes soft. "You after Jeongguk? Yeah. Feels like you before Seokjin."

With Hoseok's words comes a sucker punch; a blow to your heart that makes it feel like your stomach has been stolen. You've known for a while that progress has been made. Are fully aware of Jeongguk's impact on that - but thought it was a little secret just for you. Like a safety pin in an ill-fitting dress, or glitter sprinkled into your moisturiser. Thought that nobody could see just how important he was for your progress.

But Hoseok's known for a while now. Has known far longer than even he realises. Just started equating your happiness to Jeongguk. The shifts you worked following time spent with him were always full of far more laughter. The shifts you worked knowing you'd see him afterwards were always a lot more optimistic. When he actually thinks about it, there are few times you've been genuinely miserable at work in the last few months, and those occasions nearly always align with Jeongguk and a little girl drama that you moan to Hoseok about.

"Do I think Jeongguk is entirely responsible for that?" Hoseok continues when you go quiet. "No. You're the one who's done the hard work - and trust me. I know it's hard. I had sleepovers with the she-devil -" You laugh quietly at the newly coined nickname for his ex. "- way more times than I admitted to you and Danbi after the breakup. But Jeongguk... Yeah. I'm not sure if it's correlation or causation. I just know it's not a coincidence."

You shrug your shoulders a little. Aren't really sure if he's right or not. Just know that there's no denying Jeongguk played a vital role in dragging you out of your Seokjin-shaped pit of despair.

"I asked him," you begin quietly. It's a little embarrassing. You've not even told Danbi, yet. You know she'll go to bat for you whatever the weather, and worry about souring their friendship. But you need to tell someone . Someone needs to know you tried . "I asked him what was going on between us... and he made it pretty clear he views me as a friend. So, like, it doesn't really matter."

Friends, he had said, but then he kissed you like he meant it.

Fucked you a third time. Lazily. Slowly. Languidly. Confusingly. Intimately. Had laughed with you after your incredibly early climax, pressing a kiss to your cheek, his beating heart thumping against your chest.

Had looked down at you while you were lying between his legs, tongue trailing up his cock, pretty smile on his lips and reached for your hand. Held it. Whispered some bullshit about how lucky he is. Finished in your mouth, then kissed you afterwards to say thank you.

But when the caricature lady down on the boardwalk had asked if you were a couple later that evening, Jeongguk had quickly corrected her. " Friends ." The hearts that would have been drawn between you were instead replaced with stars. It was fitting. As it should be.

Stars, not hearts.

Friends, not lovers.

"I'm not really sure fucking in a motel is a friendly thing to do," Hoseok simply states - but is cut off by the ding of the art cafe door swinging open. It's a couple not much younger than yourself. Uni students, you imagine. Matching branded shirts and dark slacks.

Hoseok walks over to greet and set them up for their session. It's two girls, and the taller of the pair watches her partner with absolute fondness as she organises the canvas sizes they want, and the drinks they'll order. Her eyes shine like the reflection of the moon in Gwangalli harbour, and it makes your heart hurt a little.

It's been so long since you felt someone look at you like that. Nearly a year on since your last relationship ended, the prospect of falling in love isn't as scary as it once was. Not really.

A smile tickles at your lips. Isn't as scary as it once was. Your fingers toy with the dainty bird on the chain around your neck. Its purpose, it would appear, has been served.

And perhaps that's it; perhaps you're just ready, now.

If you are, then of course, it would be natural for you to confuse your feelings for Jeongguk. It had always been a non-option before. A 'what the fuck' not a 'what if'. Yet your heart is quietly calm when you think about what it could be like to pursue someone romantically. It thump, thump, thumps; adrenaline in your chest. Maybe you can do this.

This is what you've been working for. This is it.

Oh the realisation is freeing. Welcome. Wondrous.

And so as Hoseok rings up the bill for the girls by the counter before they start their date, you slip into the staff room. Take your phone off charge, and call through to the only person you ever ring these days.

It takes a few dial tones, but he picks up.

He always does.

"Hey," Jeongguk says through the phone, a little breathless. "Sorry, just with Joon. Playing tennis. You good, Byeol?"

"Yeah," you say quickly, with a sense of urgency in your tone. "Sorry, is now a bad ti-"

"No," he interrupts, as if he hasn't just got a bollocking from Namjoon for dipping mid-rally to take your call. "Not at all. What's up?"

"I won't keep you," you hurriedly reply. Really, you don't want to take up any more of his time - it's just that you want to be sure. Want confirmation that you're doing the right thing. "I've been asked on a date. Seojoon, again. What do you think?"

There's a second of silence. A skipped heartbeat. A missed signal.

"Uh, yeah? Sure? I mean, sounds great." There's uncertainty in his voice, but he masks it well. "That's what you want, right?"

"I don't know," you admit, as you lean against the wall, a little defeated. There's a vulnerability to your honesty. One that makes you nervous. Unsure of yourself. Start to ramble, because it's much easier than getting straight to the point. "It's just... you and me. We've done so much together recently, and like... it's always really nice. And fun. And like, I don't wanna ruin our friendship or anything like that. It's just things don't scare me in the same way they used to and I thought that maybe-"

"I gotta get back to the match, B," Jeongguk's voice crackles through the phone. Smiles, 'cause he thinks it will make him sound happy. It doesn't. "Joon's moaning. Sorry. Look, you do what you need to do. He seems nice. We'll talk later, alright?"

"But I-"

The line goes dead before you can express what you really want to get across. Your lips rest ajar; unspoken syllables fading into nothingness.

Jeongguk is gone, and with him goes any hope you had foolishly put into thinking maybe things could continue as they are.

But your agreement was contingent on your fears, not your hopes.

What a silly little fool you are.

And what a silly thing for Jeongguk to have done; phone in his hand, frown on his face.

Sitting on the rigid steel bench beside the court, Namjoon is nowhere to be seen. He's gone to the bathroom. Jeongguk never had to hang up.

He just didn't want to say things he couldn't take back. Didn't want to discourage you from doing the one thing that you've worked so fucking hard for: a normal relationship.

It's the least you deserve - and what kind of asshole would he be if he were to help you prepare for one only to sabotage you as soon as it seems as if one is on the horizon.

Running a hand through his hair, Jeongguk shakes it back down into position. The sun is glaring down despite the cold winds that whistle through the trees, and a little fleck of glitter catches in it. His skin is dappled in a dozen reminders of you, even if the hickies have faded, now.

In a park downtown, he's been with Namjoon all morning. Tennis isn't their sport of choice, usually, but it's with purpose.

"C'mon. One match," Namjoon had begged Jeongguk the night before. "I need to catch this guy outside of the office. Get him when his guard is down."

Working on a story about insider trading, Namjoon has been trying to talk with someone at one of the big firms up in the financial district. No one huge. Just a middleman. An investor. Sort of like the investment analyst he met at one of Taehyung's art shows. One of the ones that Seokjin had forwarded the invite along to.

The same one that Namjoon had schmoozed. The same one Namjoon had lied to, when he said 'oh, you play tennis? Whereabouts? I'm looking for a new club."

And so now Jeongguk is two matches in, regretting all of his life choices while Namjoon makes small talk with men wearing watches that cost more than Jeongguk's entire net worth.

So preoccupied with thoughts of you, teeth nibbling down on his bottom lip, Jeongguk almost doesn't realise Namjoon hurry back over to the court.

"Play it cool, play it cool," he whispers, his dark hair cropped short, white tennis polo pristine on his broad shoulders. He really does look the part. Jeongguk is a gym rat through and through, but he's tried today. Is in shorts. Isn't wearing a polo 'cause fuck that, but has coordinated a seamless all-Nike look. "The guy I'm after is here. He's booked in for the court beside us-"

"How do you-"

"The reservation system is easy as fuck to bypass, just needed a plugin," Namjoon dismisses Jeongguk's questioning, as if it's a totally normal thing to do. Perhaps in his field of work, Jeongguk considers, it is. "Anyway, not important. Park Sungkyu is his name. Analyst at Shilla Finances. Probably won't know shit, but will know people who do. I just need to touch base. Get connected."

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, but stands up nonetheless. Pats himself down, and tosses his phone back into his rucksack, which is slouched against the leg of the bench. "You owe me."

"I'll buy you all the meat you want," Namjoon grins, heading over to the other side of the net.

"We're going straight to a samgyeopsal place after this," Jeongguk assures him. Is almost positive his stomach rumbles as soon as he says it. "Fuckin' starving."

"You're always starving," Namjoon laughs - but he doesn't mind. They've already been at the club for far longer than anticipated. If anything, he feels a little bad. "Let's rally."

Bouncing a luminous yellow ball against the gritty surface, Namjoon gets a feel for the weight. Jeongguk leans forward a little, knees bent. Twists the racket he rented from the club shop between his palms. For someone who has no interest in the sport, he sure does look good playing it.

Both of them ignore the looming presence coming their way. Men. Two of them. Tall. Broad. Similar silhouettes, but entirely different auras. One is far more imposing. Makes Jeongguk wanna look in their direction - but he doesn't. Just focuses on Namjoon as he begins to swing through a smooth serve.

A little uncoordinated, what Namjoon may lack in grace, he makes up for in gritty determination. He's fun to play against, 'cause Jeongguk never knows what's coming next.

"Well, I never," a charming, brooding voice echoes from afar. "Kim Namjoon."

He concedes the point immediately. Lets the ball bounce off into the empty space behind him as he turns to face the approaching men.

"Park Sungkyu," Namjoon grins back, bowing ever so slightly to greet him. Jeongguk follows suit. "Fancy seeing you here."

Short sides, long top, Sungkyu's dark hair is held in place by a white sweatband. Like Namjoon, he's in crisp white tennis attire. Lips thin, nose a little crooked, Jeongguk wonders just how many rackets he's taken to the face. Definitely has the sleazy persona to warrant it.

Maybe Jeongguk's back is just up. Maybe he's just aware that Sungkyu is an acquaintance of your ex. A friend .

Any friend of your shithead ex is, as far as Jeongguk is concerned, also a shithead.

Which means the other guy most likely is, too.

He's tall. Rivals Namjoon. Shoulders broad, gaze icy, there's something about him that just irks Jeongguk. Perhaps it's the arrogant smirk, or perhaps it's the designer garments on his well-built frame. Perhaps it's jealousy - this guy looks like he's got his shit together, which is something Jeongguk could only dream of.

But he also seems older. It's unfair to compare.

Jeongguk might not care for the formalities, but he was raised well. Will greet his elders with respect.

After all, it's irrational for him to have such a bee in his bonnet.

Maybe it's you. Maybe he's just so frustrated with the situation at hand that he's letting it impact his other interactions - and so he shakes his head softly and realigns it with a warm smile. Will let the other men initiate a greeting.

Naturally, they do. It's the taller one. Holds out his hand for Jeongguk to shake.

Jeongguk follows suit. Nods politely. Thinks he might die, when the gentleman in front of him says, "Kim Seokjin. Nice to meet you. A friend of Namjoon's, I assume?"

Hand still in Seokjin's grasp, Jeongguk wants to strengthen it. Use it against him. Flip him onto his back and tackle him to the fucking ground. Wants to do shit that he knows would grant Seokjin a restraining order against him.

But instead, he smiles. "Correct. Jeon Jeongguk."

His name means fuck all to Seokjin. Sparks nothing inside of him.

But something that does catch his attention?

The glitter on Jeongguk's tattooed arm, glimmering in the low winter sun.

Seokjin smirks. Lips plump, jaw well-defined, Jeongguk understands why you didn't like kissing anyone after him. Fuck . How the fuck could he ever compete with lips like those?

"Assuming that's not yours?" he nods towards the pretty sparkles as he lets go of Jeongguk's hand.

Shaking his head, Jeongguk is coy. "Correct. Not mine."

Oh, but it is, babe.

"I feel for you," Seokjin laughs, entirely unaware of whom may have stained Jeongguk in the evidence of their affection. Seokjin's skin is pristine. Not a speck in sight. It comforts Jeongguk. "Really, I do. That shit's a bitch to get off, isn't it?"

"I used to date a guy," your voice had lingered. "And he was so cool, yanno? So smart, and mature, and he was just... you know people who have shit figured out? He's like that. He's older. Wiser. Anyways, glitter annoys him. Gets on his clothes and then apparently it's a bitch to get out but I'm so used to it that I never notice it-"

"It's not a bitch to get out."

"And like, he's just, mature, yanno?"

"Yeah, you said that."

"So," you had shrugged your shoulders into Jeongguk's mattress. "He doesn't like glitter."

"It's not a bitch to get off," Jeongguk simply smiles. Shrugs a little sheepishly. Is about to say something he really shouldn't, but knows better. "And anyways, I like the reminders."

Oh, how Jeongguk wants to be vulgar .

Wants to say shit about the way he always ends your sessions covered in it. Want to tell Seokjin how well he handles your body; how he knows you didn't cum the last time you were in bed with him, and how Jeongguk always makes you cum.

But the reason Jeongguk has glitter on his skin today is because he slept on your side of the bed last night. Missed you. Wished you were there.

And so he won't speak of you in such a way. Not that he ever would, regardless.

"Credit where it's due," Seokjin nods, raising his brows, deliberately a little cheeky because he's assessing what kind of character Jeongguk has. "Girls who wear glitter, man..."

He's not even finished the sentence and Jeongguk already wants to rip Seokjin's enviable eyebrows straight off his face.

"... they sure know how to have a good time."

Oh , Jeongguk thinks. It's far less vulgar than he was anticipating from Seokjin.

Until he adds, "used to screw a girl who was always covered in it. Annoying as fuck. Good fucking lay, though."

Jeongguk is trying his hardest not to pick a fight, but Seokjin's face looks just as appealing as the figurine display units that Jeongguk so often shatters, right now.

Calm the fuck down. She'll kill you if you hit him. Calm. Idiot.

'Used to screw', he scoffs internally. You fucking dated her for, like, a year, you prick. Longer than that, maybe. I don't even know. But you're a fucking prick. And you didn't make her cum. Prick.

"Thought this was a club for gentlemen?" Jeongguk teases playfully, not wanting it to seem as if he's being critical. Has an act to play, after all. Will behave himself, but only 'cause Namjoon needs him to. "Surely that's no way to talk about women?"

Seokjin shrugs. "Boys will be boys."

"I don't know about you, Seokjin, but I stopped being a boy many years ago," Jeongguk laughs as he edges closer to Namjoon.

He wants this conversation to be over as soon as it can be. Wants to fucking leave. Wants to sprint to your place and fucking worship your glitter-covered skin. Wants to rid you of how awful loving Seokjin must have been.

It's been a matter of minutes, and Jeongguk already feels horrible on your behalf - and you had to endure this?! Loved the man who spoke about you like this?

Oh, it makes Jeongguk feel all sorts of sick.

Also makes him feel petty. Vengeful.

She came to me. That night you fucked her, and left her all fucked up? I'm the one she came to. I'm the one she trusts.

"Actually, now I come to think about it," Seokjin muses. "You must have met her - I assume you were at the Gallery? The Ryu? For what's-his-face?"

"Kim Taehyung," Jeongguk reminds him. Think's Seokjin would do well to remember to put respect on his name.

"That's it! My ex curated it. Asked me to come, but I had a prior engagement so I sent along Sungkyu instead."

Interesting, how Seokjin calls you his ex, now. Calls you his ex when you're doing shit he likes. Things he could be proud of.

Calls you nothing but a girl he used to screw when he's talking about glitter.

"Yeah, I know her fairly well," Jeongguk shrugs, seemingly indifferent. Seokjin doesn't deserve to know anything that's going on with your life as far as Jeongguk is concerned, and that includes the fact that he knows you're a 'good lay'. Instead, Jeongguk smiles. "It's a shame you guys didn't work out. Not the kinda girl you'd wanna lose."

Seokjin glances down at Jeongguk's frame, then back up. Scopes him out. Assesses what he could mean by that. Decides the kid probably has a crush on you. Cute.

Also a little true, but what does it really matter? Let Seokjin think you're desired. Let him know what a colossal error he made in letting you go. Let him rue the day you decided you were deserving of more.

"What did you say you do again?" Seokjin asks. "For work?"

The change in topic is direct. Pointed. Asserts Seokjin's place in the hierarchy. Knows Jeongguk is younger, and knows he ain't working no corporate job with his ink-scrawled skin and metal in his face. Knows he's beneath him.

"Just finished school," Jeongguk says, not missing a beat. Doesn't lose his posture, despite the fact he wants to sink his back down a wall and scream at the world for how cruel it can be.

He doesn't admit that he serves drinks to keep a roof above his head - a roof that he can only afford because Jimin is generous with the rent split.

"And then?" Seokjin presses. Wants to know who this kid is. Wants to know why the fuck his arms look like they've been held by you, and if the ever-so-faint mark left on his neck is from the scuff of a tennis ball or the pressure of your lips.

"The world is my oyster," Jeongguk shrugs, with a grin.

See, Jeongguk might not have financial security, or property of his own, or a business card that would bring his parents any pride, but he has one thing Seokjin doesn't; the freedom of youth.

He's not tied down to anything. Has no real obligations. Can do whatever he wants. Could drop everything and travel the world. Could retrain. Could really make something of himself.

And yet if Jeongguk were to find himself half the world away, lost down La Rambla, he knows it's you he'd wanna find once he finally reached Park Guell. Should he retrain, he'd hope for you to be his study partner; someone to keep him focused and yet entirely distracted in the university library. If he became a star, it'd be you he'd glance over to at the side of the stage during the song that made him his fortune - one about stars, and how he's got one of his very own.

"Youth," Seokjin muses, then calls over to his friend. "Ain't that a beautiful thing, huh, Sungkyu?"

"Hmm?" He hums in response, as the separate conversations merge together.

Seokjin nods down towards Jeongguk. "Kid's just finished school."

With a laugh, Sungkyu shakes his head. "Those were the days. Make the most of it while it lasts."

"Trust me," Jeongguk smiles. "I will. Now that you mention it, actually -" he taps Namjoons shoulder. "- I gotta get going."

"Oh?" Sungkyu asks, not that it makes much difference at all. "Not want a quick doubles rally? Put that youth to good use?"

With a shake of his head, Jeongguk shrugs. "Got plans with my girl that I can't miss. Something about youth, and putting it to good use, if you catch my drift."

The insinuation is clear, but what isn't?

Who the fuck Jeongguk's 'girl' is.

Namjoon sure as hell has no fuckin' clue, but Seokjin's looking at Jeongguk with stern, questioning eyes. There's glitter all over his skin. Acknowledgement that Jeongguk thinks you hold a certain value.

It's only confirmed when he says, "Sorry boys. Next time, maybe. Can't bail on her though." Repeats his earlier declaration as he walks away. "Not the kinda girl you'd wanna lose."

He'll apologise to Namjoon later. Explain himself. Is sure he'll understand his desire to leave.

Grabbing his bag as he heads past the bench, Jeongguk reaches in for his phone before slinging it over his shoulder.

Opens up his call list, and clicks your name.

Waits for the call to connect, and as it does, he doesn't wait for a 'hello'.

"Did you say 'yes' ?" Jeongguk immediately asks down the line. Furrows his brows when there's hesitation to your reply.

It's not like you need clarification. There's only one thing he could be asking about.

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I did. Both are a bit busy this week, so it's next Monday."

He's the one who hesitates, now. Wants to stop walking and gather his thoughts, but fears Seokjin will be watching on.

"Okay," he says, tone hard to distinguish. "Will you come over tonight?"

"Tonight?"

"Yeah," he nods, not that you can see him. The entire conversation feels painfully awkward, both of you tiptoeing around the fragments of your broken relationship.

"What for?"

"Haven't really hung out since Busan," he says. Smiles. Tries a little humour. "And very soon you're gonna be ditching me for another man-"

"Oh, shut up."

"-so I wanna get as much time with my bestie as I can before that happens."

"I'm not gonna ditch you, idiot."

"So you're gonna come over tonight?"

You pause. Jeongguk nervously bites his lips as he waits for a response.

"I've got pole with Danbi."

"Come round after."

"I'll be tired."

"I don't care."

"I'll need a shower."

"I've got a shower. And really nice towels. And Jimin's out tonight, so you can use as much of his expensive conditioner as you like."

"And you'll order us food?"

"What do you fancy?"

"Meat?"

"This is why we're friends," Jeongguk grins down the phone. "Grab a taxi to mine after pole. Let me know when you're on your way, and I'll order food, okay?"

An agreement is made. He sort of knows what time to expect you at his - and yet he waits until you text to say you're on your way. Only then does he jump in the shower. Is quick. Wants to be ready for your arrival. Always thinks he looks a little sexier fresh out of the shower.

Forgets all about that food he's supposed to be ordering. Will just figure it out when you get here. His head is all over the place, to be fair to him. Easy mistake.

As a knock sounds at his apartment door, Jeongguk swallows down the trepidation that's burning in his chest, towel wrapped around his hips, upper body on full display. Tiny droplets of water drip from his hair and run down his chest, but he doesn't care to properly dry himself off.

If anything, he's kinda hoping he'll end up beneath the shower once more before the night is over.

Unlocking the automatic bolts, Jeongguk looks entirely unashamed as he greets you.

"Hey, B."

Lips parting a little, you look at him as if he's crazy, before waltzing on past him. Shoes off, bag down beside them, you laugh. "What if it wasn't me at the door? And you were just there all naked and stuff?"

"Not naked," he insists. "Got a towel on - and like, I'm in my house. I can wear what I like."

And as watches you shake off the thick black padded coat you were wearing, he is all too aware that nakedness doesn't always equate to sexiness. You're fully clothed - but fuck . He can feel the blood draining from his face and heading straight for his cock instead.

"What?" You tease when you notice the look on his face. "I'm not naked."

You're quite far from it, actually. 

Normally you're a lot more demure for pole. Sports bra, workout shorts that barely cover your ass to allow for maximum skin-to-pole friction. Shit like that.

This month, though, your pole instructor is on an empowerment hype. She's gearing everyone up for the singles holiday that comes every April. "Drowning your sorrows in jjajangmyeon and cheap alcohol is not enough. We don't need to be sexy for anyone - but we should be sexy for ourselves."

And so while you've got a pair of dark - and incredibly flattering - flared yoga pants on your bottom half, it's your top half that you know is really doing numbers on him. Your white tee is thin. Sheer, almost. Wide and oversized, the neckline lazily hangs off one of your shoulders, revealing the lace detailing of the lingerie you're wearing. It's black, and sparkles ever so slightly.

Or perhaps that's just you.

Glitter taints your skin like it always does, and Jeongguk finds himself in a subtle but certain trance.

Turning to toss your coat on the sofa, Jeongguk gets a glimpse of your ass. Yep . Still an ass guy. Hair up in a claw clip, he's reminded of how much he fucking likes your hair like this. Simplicity looks so good on a girl so complex.

You glance down at his body. Pretend like you don't feel the way that the slight tenting of his towel suggests how he feels.

You've a date next week.

Would be wrong to get on your knees for your friend.

Leaning your head back, you groan. Laugh. "I hate you."

It's a damn lie and you both know it.

"Hate you, too," Jeongguk laughs, just as frustrated as you are. Looks at you with such fondness it's a wonder he's able to fuck you in the way that he does.

"We shouldn't," you say. There's no need to elaborate. You both know what you mean. The hunger in his eyes and the way you wet your lips with the tip of your tongue says it all.

He nods. Agrees. "Absolutely not."

And yet you both remain fixed in position.

Jeongguk doesn't move, and nor do you, almost as if a magnetic pull is keeping your feet firmly in place.

You're a little subdued when you say, "I said yes to another date."

Again, he nods. He already knows. He told you to.

Gaze dark, Jeongguk's jaw is a little tense. He closes his eyes, soul hidden away from you. Tilts his head down, strands of damp hair falling in front of his face.

"So what does this mean for us?" You ask quietly.

Resuming his previous position, Jeongguk looks at you again. Walks your way. Stops only when he's a few inches in front of you. Curls his index finger and rests it beneath your chin. Tilts your face. Gets your eyes on his. Studies your face. Tips his head to the side and smiles.

Your glitter is pretty today, he thinks. Well, no, actually he thinks it's always pretty - but there's something about it today that he really loves.

"You're so sparkly, Byeol," he simply says. "So sparkly."

You roll your eyes. Smile in such a way that Jeongguk wants to kiss you immediately. Wants to feel the curve of your lips against his.

Instead, he licks his lips. Flicks against his piercing, then chews down on his plump bottom lip.

Eventually, he says, "I met him today."

"Hmmm?" you question, not really paying much attention. Too busy watching his lip ring do the thing.

"Seokjin."

Your eyes shoot up to Jeongguk's. He drops the soft support of his finger from your chin. Doesn't touch you, 'cause he wants space to be an option if you need it. There's a panic to the way your eyes dart across his face, almost as if you think he's joking, or something like that.

"Sorry?"

"Forgiven - hey!" He exclaims when you immediately flick his nipple.

You would apologise, but he thinks he deserves it.

"How did you-"

"Was at the tennis club. Joon has a mutual friend, or something like that," Jeongguk simplifies. There's no need to go into the intricacies of it all. Not now, at least.

"Did you..." you begin to question, but have no idea what you really want to ask.

Jeongguk auto-fills for you. "Talk? Yeah."

"How did that go?"

"Well," Jeongguk takes a deep inhale. Exhales. "I think I owe you an apology."

You narrow your eyes. Let your hands rest on his slim waist, keeping him close. You don't want space. You want security. Want Jeongguk around, 'cause the feeling that comes with thinking of Seokjin is always one of loss.

And so he edges forward. Leaves such little space between you that it may as well not exist at all. Drapes his arms over your shoulders. Forehead to yours. Nose against nose.

"What for?" you ask, as if this is normal. As if anyone in their right mind thinks that this is the kind of casual encounter you have with a friend. As if he isn't wearing just a towel, and as if his damp hair isn't melting into yours; tangling together to keep you connected.

His nose nudges against yours softly. A silent whisper of penance; comfort only found with you. More fool him for ever thinking he'd ever find it elsewhere.

"I get it now," he whispers. "Shit with Hayun. I get why you didn't give her the time of day, 'cause the second I realised who he was B... Shit. Thought I'd end up with a fuckin restraining order."

You pull back every so slightly. Get his eyes on yours. Tell him, "I'd be furious if you started a fight."

"I know. S'why I didn't."

The gap is closed once more. Your nose softly finds its home next to his. The grip you have on his waist tightens. He's drawn closer. And then your lips delicately press a 'thank you' against his.

"I'd be furious for your sake," you say, as if you didn't kiss him, not a single beat missed. Just like not a beat is missed when he kisses you , now. Gently. Just once. A punctuation mark between your sentences. "He's not worth it."

It's unclear who kisses who next; all that's certain is that it's happening. Neither of you wish to be accountable. You aren't making cognitive choices. Just following the will of your bodies. Aren't thinking all too hard.

But the kisses are hard. Firm. Words dying to be screamed that remain silent. Muffled breaths against each other's cheeks; hands on jawlines, fingers in hair. The intrusion of a tongue, and the welcome of one another. Dignity evades you both.

The friction of the way your bodies move in tandem has his towel loosening, and Jeongguk doesn't care to fix it. He's pressed against you, which stops it from slipping, and your hand is on his ass keeping him exactly where you want him. Ain't no way it's falling.

Not unless you want it to.

"Thought you said we shouldn't," he mumbles as his hands run all over your body, squeezing at your softest parts.

You hum a little noise of satisfaction into his mouth. Pant, as you say, "we aren't."

But then your hands come to the front of his towel. They loosen it fully. Make no attempt to stop it from falling as he manages to pull just a faction away from you. It pools around his feet, leaving him entirely exposed for you - and who are you to decline such an offer?

Hands wrapping around his thick length, you smile as he whines into your lips.

"We are."

"Yeah," you admit. "We are now. Want me to stop?"

He shakes his head, lips still on yours as you wank his shaft for him, slowly. Deeply. "Don't stop. Fuck. Feels so good."

Your grip is weak; dainty little strokes to match his pretty dulcet whines. The apartment is silent, save for the sound of you and Jeongguk, and the illicit encounter of which you're having in his living room.

Curtains wide open, the city could spy, if it cared to - but there's an anonymity that comes with a highrise, and an obscurity that comes with the way your bodies meld into one.

It shouldn't be like this.

Shouldn't be so easy when your heads make it so fucking difficult.

You wish you had restraint. Wish you had more willpower. Wish you were a better friend to a person who's been nothing but good to you - but it's how good Jeongguk is to you that makes you so inclined to thank him in such a way.

There's an aching in his chest that only eases when his brows furrow into kisses you give him; a pained desperation that he's so desperately trying to remedy.

But you've a date next Monday.

The potential for something to grow where there once was nothing but dry dirt. Jeongguk spent months cultivating the right conditions. Preening. Pruning. Making sure your soil was fed the correct nutrients. Watering you.

You're ready now.

And so he pulls away. Shakes his head. "Chess."

Your hands are off him immediately - but there's confusion all over your face. Didn't he say 'don't stop' ? Is this not what he wanted?

"I'm sorry," you blurt out, because this feels so foreign to you. So many times he's reminded you that 'chess is always an option' - but he's the one using it. He's the one who wants to stop. He's the one who doesn't want this. Want you.

Just like he didn't want you when you asked, 'what is this?' in Busan. Just like he didn't want you when you called earlier to ask him if you should say 'yes' to Seojoon.

Strike three. You're out.

"I'm sorry," you say again, a little slower as Jeongguk reaches down for the towel. Doesn't wrap it around his waist. Bundles it over his exposed area, instead. "I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't," he says quickly. Isn't 100% certain what you're about to say, but wants you to know this is a 'him' problem. "I just... B, you've got this date and like - okay, say it continues and goes well. How's he gonna react a few years down the line when he finds out we were still fucking about in the early days?"

I don't care, you think. Selfishly, cruelly, you don't care.

'Cause at the end of the day, you'll never care about Seojoon in the same way you care about Jeongguk. If you were ever made to choose, you wouldn't think twice.

It's shameful, how shameless you are.

Dropping your gaze, you nod. Understand. The way you've been thinking about Jeongguk is clearly not how he's been thinking about you.

It's not like you're in love with him or anything stupid like that - it's just that you think it wouldn't be a horrible fate to endure. In fact, it'd be quite nice to be loved by someone as gentle as Jeongguk. It'd be nice to love them, too.

"Right," you say - because he is right. "Sorry. I... Yeah. Shit. Sorry."

"I should get dressed-"

"Right, yeah. Yeah. Sorry," you say again, because you just can't seem to help yourself.

"Stop," he says. Offers you a smile. Really doesn't want you to fret about it. Just doesn't want you to make bad decisions because of him. "Don't say sorry. Just go get a shower alright? I'll grab you your towel."

All you can do is nod, and do as he says because you're fearful of doing the wrong thing. Scared he'll like you less than he does now; which you already think is less than you like him.

When Jeongguk goes to retrieve the towel, he finds it hard to breathe. His heart heaves and his breathing gets a little stagnated. Tears don't fall, but his lungs tremor as if it wouldn't be an unfathomable consequence.

The ache is back in his chest, and you're not there to remedy it. You're shutting the bathroom door. He hears it. Doesn't hear the lock, but he knows he has a towel to deliver.

Grabbing a pair of boxers, 'cause they're the closest thing to him, Jeongguk covers himself up a little. Just like his chest, his cock is aching. Just like his chest, it'll only feel better if he's with you - but that's simply not an option.

Looking across to his mirror, he slaps his cheek gently. "Get a grip, man."

By the time he makes it to the bathroom, you're already in it. Figure he'll knock, or just leave it by the door.

Small bubbles are scattered all over your body, your desire to rid yourself of skin touched by him overwhelming. The shame doesn't scrub away like you half think it will.

"B?" He calls through. "Can I come in?"

The shower shuts off.

"Yeah."

He's not sure what he's expecting as he presses down on the bathroom door handle. Sort of thinks you'll be shying away. Is right to assume such a thing. You're holding the hand towel over your body, not that it covers much.

Quietly, he's disappointed.

"Here," he smiles, lips pressed tightly together. Holds the bundled-up towel in the air.

"Legend," you smile back. "Thanks."

Job done, there's no need for Jeongguk to linger. He can leave, now. He should leave, now.

"Byeol-"

"Gguk-"

"Enjoy your shower," he says, coming to his senses and leaving immediately. Silently mouths curse words into his living room, 'cause what the fuck is wrong with him?! Why does he not know how to talk to you anymore? Oh it's all so fucked .

In the shower, you decide you have two options on how you deal with Jeongguk.

The first is the expected route; awkwardness, and a little uncertainty. Awful avoidance of communication due to fear of miscommunication.

The second is the opposite; to act right as rain, as if nothing is bothering you.

And given how much you hate the awkwardness, you decide that the second option is it. It has to be it. You spend the rest of your shower thinking it through. Hype yourself up. Rinse and repeat.

And surprisingly, it seems to work.

"Hey," you smile as you eventually enter his room, wrapped in the fluffy towel. Your smile is soft. Airy. Light. If you act like it's no big deal, then it doesn't have to be. "Got a shirt?"

He's just in sweats now. No boxers. Incredibly convenient. Outrageously sexy.

"Yeah," he nods. Sits up and leans over to the shirt discarded on his bedroom floor. It's been worn once. Not enough to be considered dirty, but enough to hold his scent. He tosses it over to you. Keeps his eyes on you as you shake the fabric out.

"Gonna watch me get dressed, you perv?" You tease.

Self-preservation 101. Joke about the things you desire the most.

And he knows he shouldn't, but he shrugs. "Do you want me to?"

And you know you shouldn't, but you say, "Yeah. I do."

"I-" he begins, but stops himself. Sits up a little. Leans forward. Edges further down the bed and reaches for the shirt you're holding. You don't object as he pulls it from your hands. "Don't. Don't put it on."

"No?"

He shakes his head.

"So what? You just wanna look at me?" You smirk, utterly confused by him - though his indecision would suggest that he's equally as confused. 

His perplexion doesn't ease when you drop the towel. If anything, it gets even worse.

Cupping your tits, you hold them up a little. Can feel how hard your nipples are; subtle indicators of how badly you wish Jeongguk would just do something.

This time, he nods. "C'mere."

You tilt your head. "Oh? You want me now?"

"Shut up." He rolls his eyes. "Always want you."

"You didn't earlier."

"B," Jeongguk deadpans. Holds his hand out for you - and you take it. Let him pull you up onto the bed. Straddle his lap, like the good girl you so often are for him. He knows he shouldn't be doing this, but fuck it. Wants it - you - too badly to resist. Lets his hands stroke up your bare skin. "I was trying to be good."

You shrug, and Jeongguk marvels at the slight wobble of your chest. Doesn't even bother to hide his obsession. Just wraps his lips around one of your hard nipples and begins to suck.

"But this is good," you tell him, raking your finger through his delicately waved hair. Moan when he gets a little teethy. You like it so much. Can feel your pussy throb - and it's only exacerbated when his fingers slip between your folds. "So good."

He hums in agreement, quickly latching onto your other nipple as he pushes two fingers into you. It's so impossibly easy with you. He sucks your tit further into his mouth. Enjoys it so much more than he ever thought he would. Swears he could cum just by sucking on them for hours.

It's believed that when two stars orbit one another too closely, they begin to spiral. They spin and spin and spin, like a pair of ballerinas. Or Beyblades. Whichever takes your preference.

Jeongguk isn't so sure he's a star.

But he knows you are.

And his head is fucking spinning.

It goes around in circles. Chasing you; running from his feelings. Either, or. Both all at once, possibly.

Your hips rock into the rhythm of his fingers, the build of pleasure coming quickly. Even quicker, when his thumb begins to flick up against your clit.

"Oh, fuck," you whimper.

His spare hand massages at your chest, pinching your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. You're stimulated in such a way that you know Jeongguk could make you a weepy, moany mess within minutes. It's a skill he's mastered.

He sucks on your nipple for a moment longer, dulcet moans vibrating around you. Pulling away, he presses a dainty kiss to your hardened bud, then toys with it using his tongue. Swipes once, twice. Needs you in his mouth again. Fucking loves tits.

There's a gravitational pull between you both. Spinning and spinning and spinning. Closer and closer and closer.

Hands bunching in his hair, you stop him all rather suddenly. Pull his head back. Look at him with eyes that are full of stars. Warn, "you're gonna make me cum."

"Good," he smirks.

"Bad," you laugh, and holy shit, Jeongguk thinks he might die.

When two orbiting stars finally collide there are two possible outcomes.

One: an even bigger, greater star forming from their merged bodies.

Or two: the weight of their gravity being too strong to sustain anything but nothingness. Better known as a black hole. A void. Something of which Jeongguk fears.

There's a third, less spoken of, possible outcome of two stars merging: the creation of a magnetic field over a trillion times stronger than that of the earth. Short gamma-ray bursts would occur. The most energetic and luminous event known to space and time since the big bang itself.

You've been spiralling with Jeongguk ever since you met him.

It's only natural that when you finally collide, the world will change. Life will be distorted forevermore.

Neutron star collision, or black hole.

Only one thing is for certain: it's inevitable, now.

It will happen.

Naive to any of this, you lean down, damp hair waving around his face. Cup his cheeks. Whisper with a smile against his lips. "So bad, baby."

"Fuck," he whimpers into your kiss. You're not even getting him off, and it feels like he's gonna cum in his fucking sweats. "Oh, fuck, baby."

When he's all pretty and pliant like he is now, you find yourself wanting to fulfil all of his wishes. Remember the little stroppy moans in his brother's bedroom. Decide now is as good a time as any. It really could be the last time you get Jeongguk like this.

And so you'll give him anything he asks for; and then you'll give him more. Give him everything . Let him indulge in what it really could feel like to merge with a star.

Pressing wet kisses up his throat, teeth grazing on his earlobe, you love the way he gets a little giggly. Ticklish. It's cute.

Almost as cute as the way he chokes on his own spit when you say, "let me sit on your face."

He does not need to be asked twice. Lowers himself down the bed to make his face more accessible for you. God, he wants to drown in you. Wants to be covered. Soaked. Wants your excitement dripping down the corners of his mouth and trailing onto his neck. Won't be satisfied until you're screaming. Or creaming. Either or. 'Both' is preferable.

And yet you surprise him. Smirk. Turn. Straddle his waist for a moment, facing towards the end of his bed. Palm his excruciatingly hard cock through his sweats. Giggle as it jerks a little, needing more of your touch.

"Hips up," you say, and he complies. Lets you push his sweats down to his mid-thighs, eyes trained on his cock as it springs free from its restraints. Oh, god, you love it. Never has cock ever looked nicer than his. There's nothing you don't love, especially when it's all engorged and needy like it is now; precum weeping from the pretty, perfect slit on his tip.

Holding him by the base, your other hand gently strokes his balls.

"Fuck," he exhales.

Smiling to yourself, you're pleased. Regret all the time wasted on you over the past few months. Wish you had spent just as long on him. Are aware he probably likes eating ass so much 'cause he likes getting his eaten - and it's all you wanna do, now. Want him whining and whimpering all because of your tongue and a little spit.

For now though, you put your spit to use elsewhere. Let it slowly drip onto the head of his cock. Spread it with your thumb. Wank it down his shaft. Watch the way his legs tense a little, and find great amusement in how his body reacts to you.

"Yeah?" you hum. "You like that?"

Jeongguk just whines. Taps your hip. Tries to encourage you back. "Just sit on my face."

"Ask nicely."

"Please."

You look over your shoulder and raise a brow. "Less attitude. Ask me like you'll never get the chance to ask me again."

Funny, really, how you both feel like it really will be the last time.

And so Jeongguk concedes. Softly rubs his thumb against the pad of your hip. Has fucking stars in his eyes again. "Sit on my face for me, B. C'mon. Let me make you feel good. You know I will. Think I might die if-"

He's cut off by your laughing. Smiles, too.

"See, you don't wanna hear this shit," he says fondly. "Now get on my face you little gremlin."

"Such a romantic."

"I'm not here to romance you," he reminds you both, no matter how much he'd like to. "I'm here to make you cum. So let me."

The grace in which you've been trying to carry yourself with is abandoned. You're laughing, the change in positioning a little awkward. Clambering, would likely be the best way to describe it, but Jeongguk doesn't give a fuck. As soon as your knees are by his ears, his arms are hooked under your thighs, pulling you down onto his mouth.

His tongue immediately laps against you, there's no way to articulate the sensation that runs over your entire body. The stunted, muffled groan of pleasure that vibrates against your cunt is enough to send anyone into orbit. The moans he elicits from your pretty face are unlike anything he's ever heard; as if he hasn't made you come undone more times than he can even remember.

Sinking down, you're pleased to find how well your bodies align. Granted, Jeongguk's got his hips a little raised. Is helping you out - but as soon as your wet tongue circles around his thick head, all sensibility evades him.

"Oh my God," he husks against your pussy, sucking on your clit then switching to rapid flicks of his tongue. Pauses only to say, "suck me off."

It'd be too easy to just give in.

So instead, you gather a little spit in your mouth, slowly stroking his shaft with your palm. He's so big that you can't fully wrap around him, and the visual just makes your pussy throb even more.

His nose is nested against your entrance, nudging ever so gently as his tongue swirls over your clit. He's unaware of the way you're marvelling at him - until he's greeted with a sensation he'd fucking die for.

Spitting on his cock, you coat him in a slick wetness that makes him so much easier to play with. Working your hand up and down his shaft, you're so fucking pleased when he stops eating you out - not because you don't want it. Not at all. Just because you know it means he's struggling to use his fucking brain. It feels too good.

But then he spits, too.

"Fuck."

His tongue delves back between your folds. Sinks into your entrance. Pulls out. Sloppily trails up to your ass. Presses against the tight muscle you know he's been dying to play with.

"Do it, baby," you whisper, kissing up his cock before taking it in your mouth.

You're not sure if it's the permission, or the fact you called him baby, but Jeongguk seems to lose all ability to hold back. He spits, again. Gets you nice and wet. Licks against you. Kisses. Pushes his tongue a little harder against your rim.

The soft dulcet nature of your moan is obscured by the way his hips begin to pulse upwards. Any sense of control you had in this situation is lost. Eradicated. Handed over to him on silver platter as he fucks his cock into your mouth and his tongue into your ass.

Thing is, Jeon Jeongguk is an overachiever. Will make you feel better than anyone ever could. Will fuck you so well that you'll never think of Kim fucking Seokjin ever again. Secure in his position between your cheeks, nuzzling against you like a starved man, Jeongguk moves his hands. One tenderly strokes up your back, while the other comes to rub against your clit.

There's no accuracy, and quite honestly he's a bit overwhelmed. His hips are on autopilot, the sound of him hitting the back of your throat enough to get that spinning head of his absolutely sent into orbit.

And yet it's still fucking perfect. You pull away from his cock, strings of spit keeping you connected, hand wrapped around his base as he continues to fuck into your grip.

"Gguk, I'm gonna cum."

He shakes his head. It feels fucking incredible.

"I am. I'm gonna - fuck. Gguk," you whimper, forehead resting by his hip, totally and utterly succumbing to him. "Don't stop. Please. That's it."

But he shakes his head again. Pulls his hand away from your clit as a small tremor pulses through it. Hands gripping your ass, he pushes you away from himself ever so slightly. Watches as your seeping hole pulses around nothing. It's not an orgasm. Not fully. But it could have been.

The sensation is catastrophic. You wanna curse him out. Tell him he's a prick.

But your eyes are all teary and your body is all weak and feeble, and all you want is Jeongguk to kiss you for hours upon hours. Your soft whimpers have him smiling, his thick cock in desperate need of release, too.

Pulling himself from beneath, Jeongguk comes to lay beside you; head at the end of his bed, feet by the pillows. Your eyes are closed, mascara smudged, glitter sparkling. He laughs when he notices your pathetic little pout. Strokes a little loose hair behind your ear. Smiles even wider when you crack an eye open.

"So fucking mean," you mewl. He nods, and you notice just how soaked his face is. Chin, nose, cheeks. He's covered in you. And you like it. A lot. Kiss him, because you can. Then pout, again. "So you didn't drown?"

Shaking his head, Jeongguk apologises. "I'll make it up to you."

"How so?"

He shrugs. Shuffles down a little. Latches his lips around your nipple all over again. Smears the evidence of your pleasure from his chin to your tits. Sucks harder.

"So good," you mumble, stroking his hair. He really does love this. Loves how much you love it. Loves how nice it always makes him feel. Loves the way you've drawn him out of his comfort zone, only to prove that comfort can be found anywhere with the right person.

And so he makes sure to say, "love your tits so fuckin' much."

Oh, how this satisfies you.

"Still love your ass, too, though," he makes sure to say. "Don't get it twisted. Ass guy."

As his fingers dip to your cunt, his rock-hard cock rests against your thigh, languidly humping up against you. He doesn't even mean to do it. Is just his body. He has no real control.

He sinks a finger into your cunt. Just one. Strokes up against your inner walls. Finds that little section that always makes you whine just a little louder. Rubs it tenderly.

"Right there," you tell him, and immediately regret it.

Yet this time, he doesn't stop.

In fact, his touching gets more intentional.

He sits up. Positions himself between your legs. Continue to fuck just his middle finger in your soaked pussy. And then his other hand is on your clit. Fast. Unrelenting. The complete opposite of what he's doing inside you.

"Fuck."

"Let go," he tells you. "It's okay. Let go. I've got you."

And yet you can't, because you don't trust him not to be an asshole again.

The hand rubbing your clit pulls away. Is replaced by his lips pressing a pretty kiss against it instead.

"C'mon, B," he whispers, lips grazing against your sensitive bud. "Cum for me."

His lips kiss your clit again. Deeper, now. Ends with a flick of his tongue; and then a short, sharp suck.

Before you know it, his fingers are spanking against it.

"Yeah?" he grits as you begin to writhe beneath him. He alternates. Gentle spanks and fast rubs. Sinks a second finger into you. The sound is lewd. Wet. Needy. "You like that, huh?"

The feeling builds from the tip of your toes and top of your head, meeting at a divine union right where his fingers are fucking themselves into you. Jeongguk watches your face briefly, just to make sure you're as pleased as you sound - and fuck it, he knows. Knows that no one else will ever get you like this.

No one else will ever get you like this, because no one else will compare to his magnetic pull. He'll be the one orbiting you. He'll be the one you collide with; the one you merge with. Doesn't give a fuck if you do make a black hole instead of a neutron star, because at least you'll have experienced euphoria together.

After all, what are soulmates if not two halves of the same star?

Your whines are stunted. Caught in your throat as you bite down on your own wrist out of fear of being too loud.

"I got you," Jeongguk grits. Needs this. Needs to know that New Years wasn't a one-off. Needs to know that he knows your body better than anyone. "C'mon gorgeous. Give me what I want."

And it's as if all sense of restraint evades you; chest heaving, hips wriggling, toes pointing. The sensation is too great. Too strong. He's got you. He's got you, he's got you, he's got you. Got you whimpering. Got you cumming. Got your pussy squirting for him.

"Oh, shit. That's it," he almost laughs, but cuts himself off as he replaces his hand with his lips, suctioning around your clit. Just for a moment. For a second. Gets his chin and cheek covered in you as he pulls away. Rubs at your clit again. Spreads the reach of the wetness seeping from you. Soaks his sheets. Dips his head, 'cause fuck , he wants to taste you.

"Gguk," you whimper, the sensation getting almost unbearable.

"More," he just says. "Give me more, baby. Please ."

The sensation is a complex fusion of torture and unadulterated pleasure. He works your pussy until you're spent - and then licks up your folds. Body trembling, you really can't take any more.

Reaching down for him, you encourage him back up. He complies. Lets you nuzzle into his chest as he presses kisses into your hair. You'll have to rewash it, but fuck it. Right now? Couldn't care less.

"You're insane," he praises softly. "So fuckin' perfect. Fuck. Fuck." He laughs. "Shit. Swear you're not actually real sometimes. Just a figment of my imagination."

You laugh now, too. "Life sure would be easier if that were the case."

He supposes you're right - and yet wouldn't have it any other way. "Shower?"

Sleepily, you nod against his chest - and so as he gets up, he simply hoists you over his shoulder. The scream you let out is far from sleepy - and also far from the scream that muffled into his pillows. Spanking your ass just cause he can, he leads you both into the bathroom and sets you down on the counter. Knocks the shower into 'start' mode, and goes to retrieve the towels. Is pleased to find you smiling when he returns.

"Yes?" He questions, but you just shrug.

"Nothing." You hold your hand out - not for his, but for his cock. It's still hard. He hasn't finished - but he does walk straight to your palm. Grunts a little as you squeeze around it.

Your intention had been to just give him a quick hand job. Know that it won't take much to get him there.

For some reason, though, your legs part. You line him up. Nod when he asks, "sure?"

And even though you're tender, and it hurts a little, there's nothing you want more than for Jeongguk to finish inside you.

It really doesn't take much. You're not counting - too busy kissing him through his orgasm - but you're pretty sure it's barely even two minutes. In fact, he might spend even longer just warming himself inside you afterwards.

Doesn't stop kissing you. Not while he's keeping you plugged with his sperm, not when he withdraws, not when he cups your pussy to make sure you don't fucking drip onto his bathroom floor as he leads you both to the shower.

Kisses you while your bodies get wet, and kisses you while you let the conditioner soak into your hair. Kisses you through the rinse, and kisses you even after the water is shut off.

Just kisses and kisses and kisses. Because he can. Because he wants to. Because if he doesn't, he might blurt out something stupid, like "don't go on that date," or even more stupid, like, "I think I'm in love with you."

There'll be no talk of this night in the following morning. No discussion of what the fuck is happening between you - 'cause you've already tried, and Jeongguk is paralysed by his fears more than ever.

Or at least you assume there won't be.

When you're woken to the sound of Jeongguk cursing, still snuggled into his warmth, you shoot up. Look around - then realise exactly what he's making a fuss about.

By his feet, pristine and perfectly folded is an origami bird.

One of his.

You reach over. Unfold it. Read it. Hide the pang of discomfort in your diaphragm as you read it aloud.

" Go speed dating. "

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

[brighter-by-the-daly]

Ruesha Littlejohn x Reader

You Ruined Love for Me

Part of the Beth McCarthy mini song series

If You Loved Me Right

If you didn't lie to me

Tell me you'd die for me

Break every promise

If you were honest

I wouldn't be crazy

If you didn't call me names

If you didn't try to change

Every part of me

Every part of me you hate, I

Know that if you loved me right

I wouldn't be crazy

On the plane to Australia you were catching up with the latest Ruetube, they always make you laugh and couldn’t wait to see if you had made this week’s cut. Midway through, you could tell your bestie wasn’t her usual happy and crazy self; she seemed distant and the sparkle in her eyes had faded. Always the light of the party and the clown of the locker room Ruesha had the power to make anyone belly laugh their way into next week. You could be having the worst day of your life but could guarantee Rue would change that with a single sentence. You never had to tell her you were having a bad day, she could always just sense it and would do everything she could to try and cheer you up. She was everyone’s pick-me-up and none of you had noticed how sad she truly was lately. She’d been painting on a brave face every day of training but the camera doesn’t lie - the despair in her eyes was undeniable. That’s why watching her online made you feel so guilty, you knew she was going through a tough time with the break up and being released from Villa but missed the sadness behind the mask she paints on every single day.

Looking behind to spot Rue a few rows back as she made her way through the aisle pretending to be an air hostess, singing Busted as she went, most would be fooled to think she was truly happy. You knew how much she had been worrying that she wouldn’t make the squad. You knew her break up with Katie was messy and that she didn’t get a choice about leaving Villa. Everything she’d known for years had gone. Disappeared. Her life had been turned upside down and you just hadn’t noticed how much it had taken a toll on her until you watched it back on the laptop. She may be laughing and joking behind you but it’s all pretend.

“Oh hello madam, may I offer you a refreshing beverage?” Rue tapped on your shoulder sounding exactly like Mrs Doubtfire. Entertaining her efforts as she served your drink but ignored Katie who was in the row opposite - you can hardly blame her! Everything had come at such a shit time for her and when she finally slumped back down in her seat, it didn’t take her long to put on her headphones and pull the hoodie over her eyes. Unable to watch her combust any longer you made yourself known by dropping hard into the empty seat next to her. She’d purposely stationed herself in the empty back row, moving from the seat in front of Katie before take off. Nudging her hood back to spy who had invaded her space to see it was you and immediately forced a smile back on to her face. “Wanna watch a movie?” your voice perky, “I’m not really in the mood (y/n/n)” your friend grumbled behind the jumper covering her mouth. “Okay..” thinking of another approach, “I have cards? Entertain an old lady would ya?” nudging her gently as she laughed a little at your statement. “I’m older than you ya cheeky hen, whats that make me?!” snatching the cards out of your hand to shuffle them.

A few games in, Rue finally took the bait and started talking. Just as you expected, life had just got a bit too much for her lately and putting on a front had become tiring. Determined to not let her be sad the entire tournament and knowing you were underdogs with this being Ireland’s first time at a World Cup, she should be enjoying it. So you decided to make it your mission to drag her through the shit and into the light so she could fully appreciate her first time in Australia and at a major tournament, knowing it would most likely be her last chance too. “I’m so glad you made it mate, I couldn’t imagine doing this without you” trying your best to make sure she knows how much the team love her. “Very nearly didn’t come, didn’t know if I could face that for weeks” gesturing towards Katie with her eyes. “But Shebhan convinced me, said I would never forgive myself if I stayed home” her eyes never faltered from the cards in her hand. “Well I’m glad I’ve got my best friend here” nudging her shoulder as you slapped down the winning card. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right? Sometimes the person who makes sure everyone’s okay needs someone to ensure she’s okay?” Rue nodded as she as shared out the cards again. Playing non stop for a few hours she shared her worries of not knowing how she’s going to cope being stuck with Katie for so long, at home she can escape but here she’s got to see her ex every single day. She was also hoping to be picked up before coming away but nobody had enquired about her and made the prospect of retiring suddenly more real. She didn’t know what she would do next but you told her you would pay a hell of a lot of money to hear her commentating and you’re sure others would too!

Once you’d arrived at the hotel you made sure Rue was your roommate so you could stabilise her mood and bring back a spark of joy we’re so used to seeing. You thought it was working but when the day of your first game came you could tell she was on the war path - snapping at everyone and losing it over the littlest things. You hadn’t put two and two together until you were in the tunnel stood across from Australia, noticing Caitlin Foord directly opposite Ruesha, suddenly everything made sense. As your eyes burned into the back of Rue’s head who was burning holes into her rival’s - on the pitch and off, you could tell by her stance she was angry. Echoes of Rue’s voice shouting for Ireland bounced around in the metal tunnel, bangs on the side rippling through the line up. By this point it was too late to address her as you walked out with your team, grabbing her after group photos to ask if she was okay. “Yeah why wouldn’t I be?” she replied in loud arrogance. You knew this was going to be a looong 90 minutes.

———-

Shoving Rue back into the locker room Katie was in her face and not letting up as she screamed at her that she was psycho. Laying into her ex for ignoring her new girlfriend in the line up and lashing out after the game. There’s a lot Rue did wrong but she played a superb game regardless, she hadn’t played 90 minutes in ages and it didn’t show for a second. Noticing Rue was about to blow you put yourself between the two exes just like you did on the pitch with Caitlin. You knew Rue was gonna boil over and being the nearest to her, you had to pull her away.. And here we are - a screaming match after our first ever World Cup game.. it certainly leaves a lot to be desired for the rest of the tournament! Being only one person in the middle of two very passionate people right now, it didn’t take them long to simply walk around you. Every time you moved between them they just swerved your body to face each other again. Two Irish women screaming at each other made your ears ring. “If you were a decent human being I wouldn’t be fucking crazy would I!” Rue shouted literally through you towards Katie. “You tried to change everything about me and that still wasn’t enough for you!” this time standing on the bench to shout over the top of you. “It’s always the same argument from you isn’t it! Can you blame me for not being honest if this is how you react? I don’t love you anymore Ruesha, I haven’t loved you for years!” That statement from Katie made your eyes bulge in shock, that was a spiteful thing to say. “You always liked to keep your options open didn’t you!” still standing on the bench and kicking Katie’s belongings onto the floor. “You’re so over emotional and unpredictable Rue, what the fuck even was that out there? Are you trying to embarrass all of us? You don’t deserve to be here!” Katie picked up a boot to throw at her. “WOAH, THAT IS ENOUGH!” you screamed to get their attention, grabbing the boot out of Katie’s hand and throwing it across the room. “RUE! OUT! NOW!” pointing at the door. Ruesha’s arms folded as she refused to move so you did the only thing you could. Grabbing her legs and throwing her over your shoulder you carried her out as the screaming continued behind, kicking the door to open it as you marched the midfielder out of the changing room. Placing her feet back on the ground, as soon as the door closed she burst into tears, lowering her down gently as she collapsed onto the floor. Cradling your best friend who wailed into your lap as the rest of the team walked past, you waved them on determined to not make it a big scene. Once they’d passed, you scooped her up to carry her into an empty room and attempted to her calm her uneven breathing, fetching cold towels for her forehead before she gave herself a migraine.

Exhausted from all the crying she soon fell asleep on the coach, your back was against the window with your legs draped over her - feeling like you were protecting her against the world and the childish snickers from the back of the bus. Arriving back at the hotel you carried her limp body into your room and tucked her into bed, holding her into the next day, ready to take on the world again - in more ways than one.

[mycenalucentipes]

Panicked Confession

Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader

Pansy Parkinson has been picking on you ever since she found out about your troubles and little crush on Draco Malfoy. Pansy’s bullying wasn’t even the worst of your problems though. Life is just… You’re distraught. Everything feels wrong. You feel wrong. Something isn’t right and you don’t have anyone to turn to for help. It’s all too much. You just want to collapse. 

Warnings: Mentions of abuse, bullying, breakdown, cursing, panic attack, su!c!dal thoughts, one minor mention of blood

Word count: ~2.3k

a/n: Fluff at the end! I love Draco so much. Maybe I'm self projecting onto Y/n, but I too, would love to be hugged by Draco Malfoy at Hogwarts lol 

It was during dinner that Pansy fucking Parkinson decided that you would be her victim tonight. Somehow, she found out about all of your insecurities and your teeny tiny crush on the Slytherin Prince. Pansy was not about to let another girl try and “steal him away” from her. Though he wasn’t Pansy’s. He wasn’t owned by anyone. That’s just ridiculous.  

Weeks prior to the abuse, at the beginning of the term, you and Draco got paired up (Much to Malfoy’s dismay) for potions and then for an essay in transfiguration. Although arrogant and snobbish at first, you somehow managed to get Draco to warm up to you. Perhaps the kind little smiles and waves you gave him as you entered or exited the classroom. You didn’t show fear when he approached, nor an undying love for him. You treated him like a normal person and were quite competent at your work. 

Which is how you somehow ended up here.

“You useless little, filthy, half-blood bitch! Why are you still here? Hm? Why show your face, you’re such a disgrace to the wizarding world!” She spat at you while leaning over your shaking figure on the ground. Pansy and a couple other Slytherin girls decided to drag you into the bathroom during dinner. “He’ll never love you. You’re a fucking Hufflepuff of all houses. He won’t even glance in your direction!” They screamed and cackled in your face. 

They pushed you over, tore your robes, pulled your hair, and kicked you to and on the ground. Believe it or not, Pansy and her friend’s bullying wasn’t the main cause of your worries. You could care less about them in all honesty, but this semester has been rough. Your mind was letting their words get the better of you.

Recently, you really were beginning to believe you were just a good for nothing waste of space. You should just squash your silly little crush like a bug, right? Kill it. Before it consumed you further. It was this night, where you truly believed their words. That you never stood a chance in gaining Draco’s love and affection. You wanted to escape reality. You wanted nothing more than to finally escape school and home life. 

After they thoroughly beat you down, they left you to your own despair on the cold, hard bathroom floor. You needed an escape from reality tonight. Your mind was getting worse, growing weak, why couldn’t you handle it anymore? You took off running. Not back to dinner in the Great Hall, but to the highest place where you could escape the chatter, murmurs, gossip, insults, all of it.

You clumsily ran up the stairs. To the top of the Astronomy Tower, that was where you were headed. Everything was crumbling inside of you. You’ve tried so hard, yet nothing seems to be working out in your mind. Your mind was falling into a hole that you weren’t sure you could climb out of. So deep, so far away.

Sure, you looked okay from the outside. Nothing was actually falling apart on the outside, maybe except your appearance. But your grades were good, professors liked you, you had a few good friends, maybe your family wasn’t all that perfect, but they weren’t physically abusive. Even if things hadn’t started so great, they were ending up alright. So why were you so broken still? Was it the past years of trauma that you’ve hid from? You couldn’t figure it out. Everything was too much, you couldn’t breathe. 

Reaching the top of the Astronomy Tower, breathing erratic, you flung yourself to the railing. Not to jump over, no. Just to hold onto something tight, to try and gain a sense of reality back. Your whole body was wracked with shivers and the occasional sob that you tried to hold back. It was growing difficult to contain any semblance of sanity that might’ve been left in your panic stricken mind. Was the world caving in? Or was it your conscience?

Your thoughts were a cacophony of anxiety, they clashed and clamored around the inside of your skull. They’ve longed to break out and be free. But you were scared to let them out and be seen, to be heard. You didn’t want to be vulnerable or “attention-seeking”. So, what could you do, other than just bottle it up? Tonight though, you shouted. You shouted over the edge of the railing at the top of your lungs until your voice was hoarse. 

Tears spilled over the edge of your eyes as you kept shouting. Some screams were just pure screams, others were just insults to throw into the void. Hiccups here and there from the violent sobs that wracked your trembling frame. It was piercingly cold, but you couldn’t feel anything, just pure numbness. 

As your voice ran dry of screams and cries, you sunk to the ground. Bringing your knees to your chest, you kept sobbing. Unable to hear any outside sounds from the static in your ears that buzzed so intensely, you never heard Draco approaching you. 

Draco thought it was a little odd that Pansy and some other Slytherin girls took you out of the Great Hall. He was pretty sure he saw them drag you out, but maybe that was his mind exaggerating. He somehow grew a soft spot for the little Hufflepuff girl. Draco didn’t understand how you did it, but all he knew was that he cared for you and liked you. A lot. 

After thirty minutes had passed and you still had not re-entered, but Pansy and her friends did, he grew slightly worried. They looked smug, too smug to be innocent. He had to go find you, as this was not like you to just leave your plate untouched, or so he thought. Draco stood up abruptly from the table, his silverware clattered from the sudden movement. 

“Oh, Dracy~ Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Pansy tugged at his sleeve with a doe-like look. 

“Buzz off Parkinson. This doesn’t concern you– Or maybe it does?” Draco yanked his arm back and out of Pansy’s grasp. He shot her a sharp glare and snarled out, “Do you have any idea what might’ve happened to Y/n?” A look of fright flashed over Pansy’s features. She did her best to play innocent, but that one second of fear was enough for Draco to understand.

“I have no idea where that filthy little Hufflepuff could have gone. Why would I care? Why do you care? She’s not worth your time! She’s a bloody Hufflepuff!” Pansy shot back, desperation in her voice as she tried to convince Draco to stay. 

“Parkinson, just leave her alone! You have no right to meddle in my business and relationships! Don’t you or anyone else ever lay a fucking hand on her again.” Draco growled back. He stormed out of the hall in a hurry, not caring that Pansy was calling for him, or that other students were starting to stare. He had to make sure you were okay. 

He burst into the girls restrooms, not caring that he wasn’t a girl. All that he was able to find in there were scraps of your papers from your bag on the ground and a few specks of blood here and there. Draco huffed in frustration, then quickly left the bathrooms. He wasn’t quite sure where to start looking for you, this school was huge! He’d never known you to be in distress or anything more than anxious for an exam. You never showed him any signs of this happening. He opted to just start walking, he would cover more ground than just standing around. 

The Astronomy Tower. That was his first choice, he figured that might be the best option. He would occasionally visit the peaceful place in the late hours of the night to clear his mind. As he ascended the stairs he could hear strangled, painful sobs. He knew it was you. His pace quickened and he was soon bounding up the stairs to rush to your side. 

Once he reached the top, his eyes flicked around, looking for you. It didn’t take long until his gaze landed on you by the railing, huddled up to your knees, rocking back and forth. Draco cautiously approached you, not wanting to spook you. Slowly, he knelt down beside you, one knee touching the ground, putting his hands on your shoulders.

“Y/n?” He started out, his voice gentle and full of concern. Your eyes shot up to him, panic swimming in them. His heart clenched at the sight of your frightened form. You saw his lips moving, but could not hear a single thing coming out of them. 

“Y/n? What’s wrong? Can you speak to me?” His worry grew as you weren’t responding to him. Only looking into his eyes with tears pouring from yours. “You’ll be okay. It’s alright, Y/n. I’m here for you…” He kept whispering out sweet little reassurances. Eventually your hearing came back to reality, however your breathing was still erratic as you cried. 

“Y/n,” Draco’s voice slightly wavered with concern, “can I hug you? Is that okay?” His words, soft and comforting, offered deep compassion for you. He understood that it was difficult for you to communicate in this state. Still overwhelmed, you mustered a small nod. Quickly upon watching your answer, he drew you into a tight embrace. You felt the warmth radiating off of him that shielded you from the harsh winds of the cold night. You could feel the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the steady sound of his heartbeat. 

“Follow my breathing if you can.” He whispered sweetly, while rubbing small circles into your back. Gradually, you were able to follow along, calming your breathing and senses down. Though the tears still fell thickly from your eyes, the hysteria was gone. Eventually you found your voice. 

“D-Draco, w-why are you up here?” Your voice was rough from tonight, cracking part way through your question. Your body was still shaking, but less so than before. 

“I was worried about you when you didn’t come back to dinner,” He sighed with worry laced in his voice. “I saw Parkinson and her friends saunter back in, but you weren’t there.” He continued to explain what happened between him and Pansy. His voice grew angrier and tenser with each sentence. He was breathing heavily when he finished explaining how he found you. 

You froze for a couple seconds, then snaked your arms around his waist, hugging him back. “Thank you, Draco.” You said with a small voice, “I-I’m sorry you had to see me like this. Everything became too much for me, and I– I just–...” Draco calmly shushed you as you struggled for words, one of his hands now stroking the back of your head. 

“It’s okay, Y/n.” 

“Thank you again, I just love you so much, I–” You paused, realizing what you just said. Flustered, you pushed yourself back a couple feet from his hold, looking anywhere but him. He stumbled back off his knees a bit, now sitting on his bum, looking flustered as well. Not quite as flustered, but blushing red nonetheless. 

“Y-you love me as well?” He asked, voice quiet, needing confirmation that he heard you correctly. 

“Umm, yes. I-I do quite fancy you, Draco. It’s okay if you don’t, I– Wait did you say ‘as well’?” No it was your turn to stare in shock, thinking about what he just asked. “Since when?”

“Since we had to write that transfiguration essay together.” He confessed, shyly rubbing the back of his neck. “I only recently came to terms with my feelings a couple weeks ago though.” You beamed at him, blushing even harder. Okay, so maybe this wasn’t the worst night ever anymore. Just a tad embarrassing to be confessing like this after having a full blown mental breakdown and panic attack in front of him. Not quite how you thought this confession would turn out. You actually had planned to just take this crush with you to your grave, not wanting to ruin the friendship you had grown with him. 

“I-I’ll confess, I’ve liked you ever since we were paired up in potions at the start of the term.” You chuckled at the memories of him huffing and pouting at the fact that he had to work with a Hufflepuff. 

“Hmm, I’m sorry I was so rude to you back then. You had done nothing wrong. Just merely been a Hufflepuff.” He teased at the end, earning him a small punch to the arm. He feigned offense and hurt at your playful act. “I’m so hurt haha.” 

“As if!” You let out a genuine laugh and it was like music to his ears. You shuffled closer to him again, sitting between his legs, facing him directly. Both of you gazed into each other’s eyes, mesmerized and gaining a new understanding for each. Slowly leaning closer, Draco delicately placed his lips onto yours. Your eyes fluttered shut as you reciprocated the action, leaning into a deeper kiss. Is this what bliss and heaven were like? You were sure you reached your utopia. Butterflies danced in your stomach and you truly felt sparks flying. After holding the kiss for a little while, you both pulled apart for air. 

Slightly panting and still staring deeply into his soul, you sat against him, your back to his chest. He wrapped his arms around your torso and rested his chin on your shoulder. 

“You’re amazing, you know that?” This time he sighed with content, “Don’t let Parkinson or her entourage tell you anything different. I’ll personally make sure of it.” You laughed at this then sighed with comfort as well. 

“Oh, but of course. You’ll protect me, my knight in shining armor!” You joked lightly, playing with his hands that lay in your lap. It felt so right, how your hands fit into his larger ones. “Can we stay up here just a bit longer? Just, hold me, please?” 

“Of course we can. I would love nothing more.” His voice hummed in your ears. So deep and calming in the cold and windy night. “Just the two of us.”

[trixree]

he is RISEN baby girl

hello hello! yes i'm alive, just very mentally ill. things are on the up and up and i have mega brainrot right now so i decided to try and get back on the "being a person" horse. you may see i've just posted some poolverine smut to AO3 here.

if you've sent me messages during my year hiatus (especially regarding commissions) I love and appreciate you and will be responding SOON, i PROMISE!

long ramble about where i'm at/life update below the cut.

May of 2023, I graduated with my masters. yaaay woo but also booo because it didn't help me get a job at all! i finally landed a paying gig in September of 2023 after sending out quite literally hundreds of applications. i only had two interviews total and a mountain of auto-rejections to show for it and it took an immense toll on my mental health. It started what was (in hindsight) a year of a prolonged downward spiral.

i already really struggled with self worth and turns out riding the merry-go-round of job hunting rejection cranked my depression up to new heights. for the first time in a long time, i found myself so low as to be entertaining thoughts of suicide. my eating disorder peaked the hardest it has since high school. i had also moved out of my parents house and in with my partner May of 2023 and was readjusting to being out of a traumatic environment. i had panic attacks anytime he came into a room too quietly and surprised me for months. I found myself isolated from most of my friends (partly because of my own communication death-spiral depression paralysis) and also because i moved to a different city than all of them to live with my partner again (0 complaints there, i love the city i live in and love my home with my partner and our bird children. however i miss my fucking friends, and the loneliness compounded the Despair Arc i was having.) My fucking health insurance changed because my previous policy holder retired and i lost some medications for a period of time, stressing my body in bad ways. a really bad spell of migraines compounded things chemically for the worst.

i borrowed some money to return to my therapist and my doc recently upped my antidepressant dose, and I can tell that both of those things but ESPECIALLY that last one there has helped already. My partner, closest friends, and even some coworkers have said I seem much better, too. I'm hopeful about it. Optimistic, even!

i did get a job working for a behavioral health nonprofit that provides outpatient psychiatric services in administration. It pays in fucking sheckles and pennies (nonprofits be like) and psych is a challenging environment to say the least. it was another 6-month fight to hammer out disability accommodations with HR. my body is a machine that consumes paid leave. as any of you that have danced an accommdations dance can probably attest, it sucks so goddamn bad. i had basically round after round of requests for my doctors to fill out paperwork that amounted to "will they get better? Are you sure? Alright, please estimate how often this person will need this accommodation in hours per week." of course it took an immense mental health toll, too. i kick ass at what i do and i do it chronically understaffed but it's really hard to feel secure anywhere when you're constantly missing work due to uncontrollable Body Bad Times (migraine, explosive diarrhea, uncontrollable vomiting, my three horsemen). especially if someone has a grudge, and someone did, which added extra layers of complexity.

i'll be honest, it's good to have something to get out of bed to go do 5/7 days of the week (i was going stir crazy without employment) but i'm running myself ragged and barely making it financially. not only was this body i have NOT built for an 8-5, i have less than 15$ to my name right now to show for it and i keep having to borrow money from my family for medication. but i truly love the people i work with and feel like i get to do good for my community where i'm at, and that's something folks!

speaking of health, i kind of got my gut stuff figured out? not really. but also yes! i don't have a diagnosis of any kind but i have a treatment that's WORKING for the constant nausea i was always blogging about last year. my GI put me on domperidone before meals and oh my god, total fucking game changer. no longer am i burping up half-digested food and walking around with 24/7 debilitating nausea AND my appetite even kicks in when i take the damn pills!!! the only down side is that domperidone is not FDA approved in the USofA because of sudden cardiac failure or what the fuck ever so i have to pay out of pocket for all of it. that's a good 150$ per month on top of all my other medication, so that's a bummer. but god, to have something that works!!! it's been so nice. no sudden heart failure yet, fingers crossed.

i have really bad executive dysfunction when it comes to responding to messages (i currently have 100+ unread text messages from friends and family) but i'm challenging myself to work through my backlog of messages in the coming days, so stay tuned if you've DM'd me in the last year. thank you for thinking of me and i appreciate you endlessly.

as for commissions, my life is just too unpredictable for me to be as consistent with those as i'd wanted to be. as much as having the bonus income was really amazing, i just feel like i'm too flakey and unreliable to deliver on that regularly and that's just a shitty thing to do to someone. (please check your DMs if this describes an interaction we had with me.)

i'm sorry if this decision is disappointing to anyone, but i think i'm going to stick to having a kofi live if folks feel inclined to show appreciation for any fic i post and maybe taking a comm very very rarely, once in a blue moon when circumstances allow. I do want to honor anyone that messaged me about a comm during my year hiatus. Please check your DMs. for my casual reader: none of my current projects on AO3 are abandoned. i've never stopped working on them this past year, even if it has only been in my notes app. i really want to start posting more regularly again. i miss the outlet immensely. I think it's good for me, creatively and for a sense of community. i hope you all understand and thank you. thanks for still being here.