#this is the worst decision ive ever made in my life

[charbroiledchicken]

does anyone else die inside a little when they do novel outlining? like i love the brainstorming/daydreaming stage as much as the next person, but actually getting it down into words? in chronological order? in a non-confusing way? i would rather jump out a window into burning fire and then inhale a jar full of bees.

[lemonsharks]

Among other things, I hate that the only two options are "dieting cult" and "if you so much as insinuate that you would like to not be winded after taking a five minute fucking shower you are supreme traitor to the other fatties cult"

[mgsdeltasnakeeater]

ohh

[xxxairheadedangelxxx]

I don't know if anything will fry my brain worse than unironically watching the spiral of insanity that caused the response to

"hey I like X antagonist from this series id like to analyze his character more"

To be

"oh so you excuse and support genocide?"

Part of me still thinks it was a fucking fever dream

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tormented Spirit | 7

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, smut (cunnilingus, piv, choking, degradation, slight sadism), DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: again the high valyrian is internet translated so lol. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. might make another poll for next chapter stay tuned. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat

Taking you to the hidden stream was simultaneously the best and worst decision Erryk's ever made in his life. The look of you was holy. His intense focus on your form was to ensure your safety, but, by the gods, it felt sinful to behold your dark hair and light fabric ebbing in the water.

He had hoped a swim would lift your spirits, just as flower picking did, but he did not know it would draw such a tempest out of you. It was as though you were reborn. You plunged into the water and shed all your inhibitions. Your voice became brighter, as did your eyes. You were flooded with more than a dozen memories of you and your twin swimming in the river near your home in Oldtown, and you recounted all of them so excitedly to Erryk.

"Oh!' you exclaim, flipping in the water to get to your feet. You point to something behind your ward, making him turn around. In that split second, you hold in your laughter and grab something from the mossy rocks. Innocently, you say, "that reminds me of something."

Erryk turns back to you, brows knit in confusion. When you you make your way towards him, he clenches his jaw and averts his gaze. The shift you were swimming in was stuck flush on your body, leaving little to his imagination. He was glad to have the foresight to bring you a change of clothes and a towel, and, my, was the pattern on the said towel so very interesting.

"What is a frogs favorite game?" you ask so suddenly.

Erryk turns to you, brows furrowing, "pardon?"

"Tell me the frogs' favorite game, ser," you repeat as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Frogs favored game?" he repeats slowly, realizing now that your expression was mockingly innocent. He hums, "I cannot say I-"

"HOPSCOTCH!"

A frog comes leaping into Erryk's face, nearly causing him to topple as he dodges it. He's so flabbergasted by the turn of events, he calls out your name in offence. He is doubly offended by your laughter. His eyes go wide as you hunch forward, leaning on your knees.

"Villain," your ward mutters, scoffing far too many times.

You can barely catch your breath. You fan your face, "frog-ive me."

Erryk's face only contorts further.

"I could not-" you gasp for air, "could not help it."

In truth, if it was any other who did such a childish thing, he'd have shoved them in the water. Alas, you appeared only more beauteous as you made him a fool.

"Forgive me," you repeat in more serious manner, "Gwayne used to scare me this way often. I wished only to know how it felt, and now..." you giggle, "I can't say I blame my brother for constantly pulling tricks on me."

He huffs and shakes his head, "well. I'm glad to have pleased you, my ever-so-kind princess."

You offer him a guilty smile, "apologies."

Erryk shakes his head, "no. Truly. I am glad to see you in such a state."

You fidget with your fingers as a shiver runs down your spine.

He is quick to unravel your towel. He places it on your shoulders, "perhaps we should go back. The sunset is nigh."

You nod, taking your change of clothes from him next.

He turns around offering you your privacy. It takes a while, but you manage to dress yourself. Once you had your shoes on, you dry your hair with your towel and take his arm, "would you please lace up my dress?"

He nods, avoiding your gaze as he feels his face burn. He quickly laces you up then you return to the Keep.

You both had been laughing, up until you made it past the castle gates, promptly being silenced by the loud shout, "PRINCESS!"

Arryk runs over, charging for his brother. Their steel plates collide as Arryk yanks his twin, "where in gods name did you take her?"

Erryk furrows his brows, "we visited a stream-"

"The Keep is in disarray!" Arryk grits his teeth, hissing under his breath, "everyone's looking for her. Everyone."

You watch the twins huddle close and bicker. As it escalates, you try try to come between them, "Arryk. I was the one who asked him to take me outside the keep."

Arryk does not hear you at first, dead set on arguing with his twin. When you repeat your words the second time however, he turns to you, face softening a fraction. He knits his brows turning back to this brother, whispering something that makes Erryk turn to you with wide eyes, "fuck."

"Why?" you look at them in concern, "what it is?"

Arryk opens his mouth, but Erryk grabs his arm and says, "wait."

"There's no other way to say it," Arryk snaps, ripping his arm out his grip.

"Say what?" you knit your brows.

Arryk turns back to you, then lowers his gaze, "the queen... the queen has passed."

Your jaw drops. Your eyes widen. Your hand immediately covers your mouth. The three of you do not speak for a prolonged moment.

You feel your stomach roll, "w-what happened?"

"She could not deliver the babe herself. The maesters... had to intervene."

Intervene? You could not possibly understand what that could mean, and you find that you do not want to. You shake your head, "and her babe? Is- is her babe well at least?"

Arryk clenches his jaw, "she sired a prince named Baelon... he apparently grows weaker by the hour."

You feel bile rise up your throat.

"Your father and your siblings have been looking for you since news broke."

You shake your head, and gather your skirts.

"As has the prince."

Your face twitches at the thought. You do not delay and make your way inside the Keep.

As you tread the halls, you think about what the queen told you just mere hours ago. There is a sharp twinge in your belly as simultaneously remember how Aemma told you to go cheer for Daemon at the tourney and realize you will never hear a word from her ever again. The thought washes over you like water on the beach, sobering but thankfully not overwhelming.

You hadn't realized you had your head bowed until you hear your name called. You still as you look up, the twins halt behind you.

Otto marches over, brows and jaw tight as ever, "where in gods name have you been?"

You straighten your back as he stops before you, "I-"

"Your wards are double," he turns to the kingsguards, "and doubly useless, it seems."

"Father," you step into his line of sight, "do relieve your rage on them."

Your father turns back to you, expression softening a fraction at your referral. You had not called him father since your argument in the maester's office. He looks at you— takes a good look at you and your sad eyes, your knit brows, your frowning lips. Your hair was darker than it was normally, and as he reaches out for it, he found it was, in fact, damp, "where have you been?"

"I..." you gulp and take a deep breath, "went swimming."

He releases your hair, tilting his head, "with whom? Gwayne has gone."

You pull your head back, "G-Gwayne's gone?"

"The tourney is over. The road is long. He has no reason to stay," Otto says.

Your brows tighten as you shake your head, "he... he didn't... wait for me?"

Otto watches your lips quiver. He watches your nose twitch. When your chest begins to visibly rise and fall, he shakes his head, "what did I tell you?"

You stare blankly at him.

He takes your hands, "what is it I always tell you?"

You clench your jaw and huff through your nostrils, "do not waste your tears on things you cannot change."

Otto rubs your knuckles as he shakes his head again. He gives the Cargyll brothers a look before walking off with you. They make sure to keep their distance before following after.

You turn to your father as he links your arm into his. You are certain, with how he cannot look at you, that he means to tell you something grave. You look front and mimic his demeanor— distant, cold. You are his daughter, face and temperance.

"You enjoyed your swim at least?" he starts, "you are calm?"

You gulp, mentally preparing yourself for what will surely come next. Your voice still falters though, "ye-s."

Otto nods, still not turning to you, "many has occurred since your marriage to Daemon. You admitted you did not consummate your marriage on your wedding night and I was deeply concerned you would fail your duties in producing heirs, especially if your husband was not interested in you."

Your jaw clenches.

"But with the apparent... change of heart your husband has shown, you should know I've had the maesters closely monitor your state."

You knit your brows at that, "you mean my affliction?"

He speaks your name slowly before continuing, "as of yesterday, they have confirmed to me that you are with child."

You whip your head to him and pull away.

Otto does not look at you with the same sense of urgency.

"W-what?"

He sees the fear on your features. He offers a solemn expression and takes your cheeks when your eyes water, "this is good. You should delight, not tremble."

You try to speak but nothing coherent comes out.

"The Queen is dead. Go to your husband and comfort him with this news."

Your mouth goes dry and your father wipes the tears that fall from your eyes. He your name softly. Your sad face looks the exact same it did when his wife died. My baby is having a baby. He frowns and pulls away.

You try to take his hand, but he slips away.

"See her off," the Hand instructs your wards.

Erryk is quick to go to your side, whereas Arryk stares at the back of Otto's head, his lips curling as he did.

"Princess," Erryk says, cautiously reaching your arm.

You turn to him with wide eyes before scratching your tears away, "I-"

"Perhaps you should sit down first."

You pull away from him before he can touch you. The action makes Erryk pull back, an unsavory sensation spreading in his mouth and belly.

"I want to- I—" you take a breath, "I need to find-" you shake your head and begin speeding down the hall.

You were nearly about to break into a sprint, and your wards had to jog up to your side to keep up with you. You don't really know where you're going, but you're getting there, fast.

"Princess, please, slow down," one says.

You can feel your breath and your pulse in your ears.

"Princess."

You find yourself in the halls near one of the gate of the keep. The only reason why you stop is because you hear the voice of your twin. Your breath catches as you lurch towards the window. Gwayne was laughing with one of the guards, already on his horse. Your brows furrow, he couldn't possibly be well enough to be riding on horseback.

You realize quickly this is your last opportunity to go be with your brother, to pull him into an embrace, to worry on him, to tell him your worries, to kiss him goodbye. You know you have to act now and swiftly, but you cannot seem to move.

Your mind is heavy as you think about how your brother is set to leave regardless of your desire to keep close; he said it himself, his place can never be at your side. Though he is the only person who've ever relied on, you know now— you rub your belly, that can no longer be the case. There is only one person you can rely on now... yourself.

It is painful to pull away from the window, but you do, clenching your hands into fists before walking away.

You don't really walk away however, because then, you're frozen in place at the sight of your husband standing a few paces away from you, "Daemon."

He stares at you wordlessly.

You walk towards him, careful as you drag your feet.

He tilts his head and clenches his jaw, "he's leaving any moment now."

You nod, "I know."

"Go to him," he says softly.

"I-"

"Go to him!" he snaps.

You stiffen at his expression. You were adept with anger but he did not look angry. You stop in your tracks, trying to make sense of his restless figure.

Daemon watches you fidget with your fingers.

"If it is your command, I shall obey."

He chuckles dryly, pacing around his spot. He wipes his mouth then charges over, stopping just in front of you. He scoffs when you do not flinch, in disbelief of your constitution. His nostrils flare, "you know my feelings towards your twin."

You slowly shrug, "then you'll be glad to know I came looking for you."

Daemon does not move.

"You know how I feel about my brother..." you mutter, "but..." you lower your gaze, "I'm coming to terms with the fact I can no longer rely on him... it will be better this way."

It takes a moment, but Daemon chuckles. When you look up and his smirk fades. Your beady eyes make it hard to find satisfaction. "So, you will not go to him?" he asks.

You stare.

"You do not want to go to him?"

Your lips part.

He raises his brows.

"I... I do."

Anger rises up his belly, but as if on cue, the sound of horses and carriages moving is heard. You clench your jaw and lower you gaze to prevent yourself from looking back at the window. The prince cannot seem to win, for he should be pleased you did not see your brother off, and yet your sadness leaves sour jealousy in his mouth— he was your husband.

The Cargyll twins look upon you both, appalled by the cruelty of the prince to keep you here as Gwayne leaves for good. Erryk in particular feels restless, unable to stop shifting and fidgeting with his scabbard.

"Shall... shall we go?" you mutter, slowly looking up.

Daemon watches you place a hand on his bicep. He responds only by following you after giving your wards a dismissive look.

The brothers turn to each other, each as unwilling as the other to leave you, but they do anyway.

Daemon is acutely aware of the warmth of your cheek against his arm as you tread down the halls. When, you arrive at your marriage chambers, Daemon opens the door and you notice the bandage wrapped around his hand. He struggles because of this. Once you're inside, you take his arm, eyes trained on his injury, "what happened to your hand?"

Daemon's eyes are fixed on the line between your brows.

"Did you break it?" you turn to him with furrowed eyes.

He pulls away slowly. He wants to know what you'd do next.

"Did you wrap it yourself? It's badly done."

He faintly snorts, "it's on my right hand."

"I'll do it for you," you say, walking towards the vanity.

Daemon follows, watching you procure scissors and vials and other things. You turn to him, motioning to the chair. He sits down, gaze fixed upon you as you take his arm again.

Your eyes are focused on undoing his wrap, "tell me if it hurts,"

His are fixed on your focused expression, "you should sit down."

"I'm fine."

"I want you to sit down," he uses his other hand to grab your wrist.

You stop and turn to him. You turn to the chair across the room but Daemon prevents you from doing so and simply spreads legs, pulling you between his thighs. Quickly, you are sat on his lap and tense look at him. He offers you his injured hand again as his other goes around you, clinging to your hip. He pulls you in, leaning his head against yours to say, "it's a cut, by the way."

You furrow your brows at his admission. You allow yourself a moment to relax before continuing your task. You find it is, in fact, a cut, deep and ugly, "did your lance splinter very badly?"

"No."

You furrow your brows deeper as you turn to him,

"This is glass."

"Glass?" you brow raise, "how did you hurt your hand with glass?"

Daemon licks his lips as he looks at yours. He shrugs, "I broke a bottle."

You pull your head back, "on accident?"

"On purpose," he tilts his head.

You huff and start cleaning his wound, "was the violence in the tourney insufficient?"

He chuckles through his nostrils, "I did not fucking win."

You smear balm on his wound. You do not reply.

It makes him clench his jaw, "and you..."

"..."

"You were not there."

You do not tear your gaze from his injury.

He grumbles, "did you even hear me?"

You lift your gaze then raise brow at him, "you did not want me there. Do you not recall how you cursed at me?"

Your gall makes anger rise up his throat.

You continue wrapping up his hand.

"Well, you were being a bitch," he snaps.

"Why?"

His brows furrow.

"Why was I being a bitch?"

"..."

You spare him a quick glace.

He pulls his head back, "... what?"

"Did I not do my duty?" you turn to him, face blank, "I followed you, congratulated you, inquired of your injuries. I submitted to your desires. Where did I err?" You ask in earnest, "what do you want from me?"

His face contorts. Now that he was faced with such an opportunity, he finds himself unable to speak. What did he want from you?

You wait for him to reply. You prepare yourself for preposterous requirements but you are met only his silence. In that moment, you remember he was just a man. Many a man enjoyed making women suffer. You gulp, thinking about your father.

Perhaps your father was lying. Perhaps he wants you to believe you are with child to get even. After all, Daemon never... finished in you. How then could you be with child?

You secure the binding on his hand, "it is finished."

Daemon does not bother looking at his hand.

"How do you feel?"

He feels a strong urge to shake you... to pull you close.

"My deepest sympathies for the death of your cousin."

He freezes. Right. The queen was dead. He lowers his gaze.

You frown and reach for his cheek. You second guess however and bring your palm to his shoulder instead, "I am here for you, my prince."

His eyes meet yours.

"I am here to care and comfort you."

He leans back, taken by the thought.

You drink in his demeanor, the softness in his eyes, the tension that falls of his shoulders. You release a breath, "if that is what you desire, speak plainly, and do not repel me. Do not ask me to leave if, in fact, you want me to stay."

His throat tightens. He feels like he is ensnared in a bear trap. He rips at his collar, "I... I have other injuries." He pushes you off and paces around as he undoes his top. It is a struggle for him, but he cannot stop or stay still, "cuts and bruises."

You watch as he fidgets and slowly walk over.

"I don't-"

"Daemon."

He stills.

You come in front of him and undo his top yourself. You drop it mindlessly, and once he is bare, he feels conscious under your scrutiny for some reason. You brush your fingers on his ribs, making goosebumps form on his skin. He can't say that that has ever happened to him before. You notice and rub his arms, eyes locked on his torso.

He feels himself getting hard.

"Did you tend to these yourself as well?" you brush over a cut on his hip.

Oh. You were still examining him. He only hums in response.

You frown, "did no maester come to your tent?"

"I..." he starts.

You circle around him, inspecting for other injuries.

"...wanted you to come to my tent."

You come to his side. He finds the frown on your face. You take a moment before saying, "you tended to your wounds well at least."

"I want you."

You nod, "I will tend to you—"

Daemon takes your nape, lowering his head to kiss your lips. It takes a moment for you to relax, and his belly burns at the sound you make when you do. Your hands come to his sides and your nails graze faintly into his flesh.

He pushes you back until your laid on the bed beneath him. His kisses trail down your skin as he works to get you naked. He kisses your shoulder, then your sternum. He makes sure to lick your breast and leave a mark on your rib before peppering kisses down your belly.

Your breath grows heavy when he lingers by your womb, sucking kisses on your skin. Your throat tightens think of your father's words again. It makes you tense, and Daemon feels it. Of course, he doesn't know about your conversation with Otto, and thinks your tension comes from your self-consciousness.

You lift your head, pulling a pillow beneath it, and look down at your husband. You reach for him, tangling your fingers in his silver hair, "Daemon."

He hums, nipping your flesh in response.

You try to sit up, "D-Daemon, I-"

He shushes you, pushing down on your hip bone. He looks up at you, muttering something in High Valyrian.

"Please, Daemon, wait-"

"Be still," he says, violet eyes hooded, "do I not take care of you?"

Your breath hitches as he sinks down.

"Do you not enjoy my mouth?"

"I- that's not-"

"Do you or do you not?"

"I... I do—"

You are not able to speak after he buries his face between your thighs. You are reduced to breathy cries and a twisting spine. Daemon, though he continues to hold you down, relishes every second of it and feasts more ardently. He sighs, securing your thighs on his shoulders, nudging his face deeper into you, his nose brushing against your pearl.

He relishes how quickly your wetness builds, and soon, he feels your arousal dribbling down his chin. He moans, nails biting crescent moons into your skin. Your belly rises and falls in sync with the crescendo of your mewls. At this point, both your hands are tangled into his hair, and your pulling and scratching only further inspires his tongue.

You call out his name, screwing your eyes shut as you throw your head back and arch your body. Quickly, your belly tightens and you sequentially dig your heels into his shoulder blades. He squeezes your thighs enough to make them bruise, and yet the pain is what pushes you into orgasm, garnering a lewd and loud sound from your mouth.

Daemon hums, lifting his face just enough to see yours as he brings you to peak. He moans at your expression, grinding his hips into the cushion, desperate for friction.

Your body trembles, unable to settle as his burning mouth persists on your molten mound. You begin to squeak and he catches the moment you open your eyes to look at him all teary. It drives him mad. With a deep inhale, he pulls away, wiping his chin before he undoes his breeches.

You relax and catch your breath, hands dropping to your sides.

Daemon watches you, your trembling legs glistening with the pleasure he's drawn out. He can feel himself throbbing in his pants. You watch as he hastily frees himself. Though your head was hazy and your body was tried, your belly burned at sight of the sticky liquid dripping down your husband's neck.

"Fuck, Daemon," you reach for his belly. You trace his defined muscles with your finger tips. He snatches your hands when he finally pushes his pants down.

You squeak when he pushes you to your side, one hand on your shoulder, another hiking your leg up by the knee. You whine as he folds you into the sheets just before sliding his hardened cock in your wet cunt.

He hisses, leaning down to your neck. His words are hot against your skin, but you understand nothing.

Whatever tenderness he had before was gone, now he was just fucking you like a rabid animal. Daemon could not help himself, he loved how supple and pliable you were, and twists you into a form that keeps you prone. When the bed begins to creak because of his thrusts, he holds you down where your neck and collarbone meet. He puts enough pressure to restrict your breathing, but not enough to choke out your pretty noises.

At some point, he decides your leg is getting in the way and pushes you flat on your chest. He then gathers you by the hip, hiking you up enough to fuck you nicely from behind.

His thrusts are more intense now. You scream into the cushion as you find your elbows. Before you can prop yourself up though, he's pinning you down by the shoulder, saying something in High Valyrian again.

"D-Daemon," you whine, left cheek smushed against your pillow. You could feel your next climax building quickly.

He responds by rubbing your clit, drawing tears and another scream out of you because of your sensitivity.

You feel yourself helplessly clenching and unclenching around him, absolutely boneless under his vigorous intrusion. You could feel your knees slipping but Daemon's grip on you would not see you move from your position. Your toes curl. Saliva drips out your open mouth.

"Māzigon va, riña," he snorts, "sepār mirrī angotan tolī." Come on, girl. Just a little bit more."

You do not understand, so you only whine out, "Daemon."

Daemon growls and rubs one side of your ass, "you're doing so good for me."

He spanks you, but that's not what makes your eyes open.

"Milk my cock with your tight cunny, come slut."

You begin to grit your teeth.

"I want to see my seed dripping down your thighs," he groans, mind unable to focus on anything but the hot, wet slapping of your skin.

It's unsurprising that you come first, as Daemon always assures you do to underscore his control and dominance over you. He yelps out a sharp fuck, nearly coming in your cunt because of how your body seizes up around him. Your orgasm overwhelming, yet your eyes water for more than this reason. His words make you aware your husband sees you nothing more as a vessel for pleasure, and your pleasure is regretfully cut short because of how sharply he pulls out, his load spraying on your already dripping labia and pubic hair.

He strokes himself a few times, feeling his cock twitch in his hand as he watches your mixed come trickle down your legs. He sighs, "fuck," then scoops the cream in two fingers, plunging it in and out your still spasming cunt.

You squeal when he finger fucks you, body unable to remain upright. You are grateful he loses interest rather quickly and crumble into the bed as he stands.

You watch him walk over to the drawer, where he then pours himself some wine. You gulp, remembering your dream from last night. It sobers you out your high. You clench your jaw and roll over to clean yourself up. You head to your vanity and wipe yourself down, grabbing your robe was you do.

Daemon, whose thirst was now quenched, turns back to you with a towel. He is confused to see you standing. He watches you flip your hair behind you, pulling it out of your robe, which you then secure around yourself. He knits his brows as he walks over, "what are you doing?"

You turn to him, sitting on the vanity chair, "getting ready for bed."

Daemon stares, and you take his prolonged silence as an indication to proceed with your nightly routine.

The prince squeezes the damp towel in his hand as he watches you brush your hair. You catch his stillness from the mirror and turn back to him, "oh."

You drop your brush and take the towel from him, "I'll help you clean up."

Normally, he enjoyed this, but right now, he can't. He is offended when you begin to pick up his clothes, so much that he scoffs, "the fuck are you doing?"

You halt midway picking up his trousers. You stand and turn to the closet, "ah. Did you want new clothes?"

He pulls his head back, no longer offended, but hurt, "you want me to leave?"

You are caught off guard by his question. You stare at him for a moment, unsure if he was serious. You could not identify his expression, so you did not know if you should tell him the truth. You would not survive being berated after confessing you wanted to sleep with him. You dodge the answer altogether, "weren't you leaving anyway?"

Daemon's cheeks tense. He huffs, stepping forward, yanking his clothes out of your hands, "no."

You are bewildered by his actions, for to you, his actions are sudden. You are petrified in fear, which is why you instinctively begin to apologize, "f-forgive me, I-I-"

His nostrils flare and his jaw sets.

"I-" you motion with a hand, "- you always leave."

His clenches his jaw, "do you want me to leave?"

"I—" your throat tightens and soon you can no longer look at him. You want to beg him to stay, but you recall how you did that with your father, and your mother, and your brother— begging does not make people stay. You whisper, "I... I'm terrified."

When you lift your gaze, Daemon shirks and decides to dress. He gulps as he pulls his trousers up, turning back to you. He clenches his fist before reaching out for you.

Your heart races as he takes your hand.

"You've served me well. If you are terrified... I'll leave you."

You whimper when he pulls away, holding him tighter than he did before your hands part. Your lips quiver. He knits his brows. You shake your head, "I- I... I do not want you to go."

He is taken off guard by how you suddenly embrace him.

"Please," you beg, though you knew it would not serve you well, "stay."

He turned to stone. He cannot seem to move at all but your arms are determined to stay around him. You begin to weep against his skin and he can feel your breath grow ragged. Only then does he manage to return your affection.

He brushes your dark hair away from your face and cradles you against him.

"Daemon."

He leans into you, enough to be able to brush his cheek against yours, "kesan umbagon." I will stay.

You sniffle then sigh. After a while, you ask, "what does that mean?"

"I will stay."

You sigh again, pulling away to look at him. You offer him a sad smile, "thank you."

He frowns, wiping your tears.

When you go back to bed, you offer him space in case you've made him uncomfortable. He stares at you, awaiting your embrace. You are mere inches apart but it feels like yards and yards. Why do you not wish to hold him like you did last night?

"Good night, husband," you say before turning over.

He chuckles dryly, staring at your dark hair. He turns to the ceiling, "good night."

[1d1195]

Protection Extra IV

Read Protection here | ~1.8k words

From me: I really got to thinking about this idea from 🎶-ask. It is short, but hopefully it's enough. I've missed them loads. This is back within the first year of their official dating. I mentioned I would be jumping time frames a bit with these extras, so here it is.

Warnings: a little angsty. But fluffy overtones. Harry's just a protective guy. Also, the tiniest bit of smut but you have to squint and read between the lines. Mostly heavy making out and a little bit of touching.

Summary: Harry might not work for DSS anymore in the same way he used to. He doesn't guard her life because it's his job. He guards it because it's his life; her entire being is his and he would lose his mind (worse) if something happened to her.

She does not care to the same capacity as him. (But she does feel bad about it at least.)

“You said I could,” he frowned. The little scrunch between his eyebrows appeared when he concentrated. She loved it endlessly. Even if what he was asking was ridiculous. So as much as she loved that little furrow between his eyebrows, she was not going to cave. Instead, she smoothed her fingers on the bunch of skin and cupped his cheek with her hand. He turned into her hand and kissed her palm.

“Like as a joke, Harry,” she rolled her eyes she dropped her hand and returned to her previous position. She couldn’t see his face. But it didn’t matter. She already knew what faces he made any time she annoyed him anyway.

It was insane they were even having this conversation. Harry broached it so casually too. They were snuggled on the sofa, her body resting in his embrace. His knees bent around either side of her body and she laid across his torso. She fit so warmly against him it was hard to believe he was even asking her such a thing because the idea she would ever leave the circle of his arms was ridiculous.

“Okay,” he sighed. It was obvious he was frustrated by the decision. Her head was close enough to his mouth that he could kiss the top of her hair, so he did. He ran one hand up and down her arm sitting in the quiet while he held her safely in his arms. It was his favorite part of the day, holding her close to him where he knew nothing bad was going to happen. He wouldn’t let it.

Obviously, she took his silence as plotting to convince her. Which he could never. He knew that. He knew he would have an easier time convincing a fish to walk than telling her what to do. “I literally have my phone on me all the time and now you know about my shoe trick.”

He sighed. “But y’didn't have y'phone,” he reminded her. “No shoes either.”

There was that; she would allow him that much. “Well, there's no more threat, so I don't need—”

"Kitten," he sighed rubbing a hand over his face. He was exasperated. “I don’t want t’talk ‘bout this anymore,” he mumbled.

She frowned feeling bad she upset him. But he was thinking way too far over the top. “No one is even going to remember me anymore,” she whispered quietly. “He’s in jail for a really long time,” she reminded him. He didn’t answer her. “Harry,” she whispered. “Talk to me.”

“I already said I don’t want t’talk ‘bout it anymore.”

Her frown deepened and she sighed; feeling like the worst girlfriend in the world because she wouldn’t put a tracking device in her arm. “I have the scrunchie, too; for when you’re away,” she reminded him. He nodded, still silent. “Harry,” she sat up on her knees, so she could look at him. He was so pretty, all soft skin and angular. He was so handsome it made her swoon on a regular basis, and he was all hers. But she had to stand her ground.

His eyes looked sad, tired. Too sad. “M’not trying t’be controlling.”

“Of course not, Harry. I know—”

“Honey,” he interrupted.

Her heart skipped a beat because for whatever reason, when he called her honey, it made her lose all rational thought. It seemed like the conversation was far more serious than when he called her kitten, love, or even Miss Wildflower. She felt like she was nothing more than a container of the very sweet goop he called her. “I talked ‘bout this with m’therapist and we... I know m’being... crazy,” he frowned. He cupped the side of her face as he spoke so softly. Like all of this was a secret. “But... I was insanely lucky,” he reminded her. “Y’were brilliant,” he complimented. “I told you ‘bout a fail safe in passing and y’had been planning all along. I was completely blindsided by y’departure. Every step you had planned was perfect. But if y’didn’t have an AirTag, I wouldn’t have found you,” he admitted. She didn’t speak because his compliment was too nice. She didn’t think about it all that much. Mainly because she didn’t like thinking about betraying Harry the way she did. It was nearly a year ago and he was still worried. It probably killed him to admit that out loud. Because it was his job at the time, and he wouldn’t have been able to find her. But it wasn’t just his job. He loved her so completely.

If something happened to her, she really believed Harry wouldn’t survive the guilt. He barely forgave himself for her injured leg and she wasn’t convinced he fully forgave himself for that either.

She turned toward his palm in the same way he had and kissed his hand softly. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “You don’t need t’apologize, kitten. Y’didn’t do anything wrong.”

She took a deep breath. She had her own therapist and they had also discussed a lot about her hyper-independence. Even with someone like Harry to rely on because she could, and he wouldn’t ever judge her. “I’m not...” she swallowed. “I had people follow me around for years, Harry,” she reminded him.

“I know—”

She pressed a finger to his lips gently. “I couldn’t do what I wanted ninety percent of my life, Harry,” she reminded him. “Do you know what it’s like to want to go to the mall to get new jeans because yours ripped and someone tells you that you can’t? Or that you want to go to a new frozen yogurt place with friends, but you’re not allowed to? If I forgot a vegetable for dinner, I couldn’t run to the store and back without it being a production,” he didn’t know what any of that felt like; not really. He only knew it from the end of production. The part of it all she didn’t like. So, he stayed quiet. “If you texted me every five minutes for the rest of our lives, asking where I was, I would tell you every. Single. Time,” she assured him locking her gaze with his. He felt it in his stomach, the way she looked at him. She meant every word she spoke. “If you put a tracking device in me it’ll... it’ll just feel like the rest of my life. Unable to make decisions on my own. Unable to live freely,” she told him. “You have my location through my phone. I am more than willing to have that scrunchie on my wrist and in my hair when you’re not within a couple hours of me,” she promised thinking about the weekend he spent with his mom. She wondered how long he stared at the little blipping dot that told him she was safe and in her house for most of the time he was gone. “Those AirTags saved my life because you told me I needed a failsafe, Harry. You saved me.”

His gaze dropped from hers and they were quiet. Harry didn’t like the compliment. He felt like he didn’t do a good job because she nearly drowned and had a scar on her thigh that made him want to smack his head on the wall for letting those things happen to her. Silently, she settled back into his arms, her ear resting so she had the perfect sound of his heart thudding against her.

“Harry?” She whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

He smiled, kissed the top of her head. “I love you, too,” his head dropped back against the arm of the sofa and he squeezed her. He thought of all those days she studied on the ground and how they were always this close to snuggling this way. “M’sorry m’so nervous,” he mumbled. “I know you’re capable of taking care of yourself,” he pressed his nose just behind her ear, like he was tracing the outline of her hair behind it.

“I think if I had a tracking device, you wouldn’t enjoy your life. Wouldn’t take your eyes off it.”

He thought of visiting his mother back in March and how the anxiety built and fell over and over as he looked at the little blip telling him where her scrunchie was. She was right. He would have it on every screen he owned if he knew her exact location. “You’re right.”

“Oh, that had to have hurt,” she giggled and kissed his throat.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re a genius, kitten. M’happy t’say you’re right.” It was embarrassing how those words turned her on. A shiver rippled through her. No one loved her as much as Harry. No one trusted her instinct, her intelligence, or judgement as much as he did. But it was more than that. Because Harry knew people didn’t believe her for years. People misjudged her abilities because of her father and circumstance. They didn’t believe in her. So it was like he had complimented how pretty she looked (which she did) when he said she was right. It wasn’t an ego thing. “Did y’like that, honey?” He hummed his lips nipping at her earlobe as he spoke.

Harry knew exactly how much she liked that.

“Off,” she ordered shoving his shirt up his torso. It didn’t matter than she had seen him without a shirt hundreds of times since the day they warmed up in his car after the icy dip in the water when he saved her life a second time in one week. She liked to feel the hard ripples of his stomach and he had promised she could look as much as she wanted once she was warm.

Well now she was warm. “Yes, ma’am,” he pulled it off the rest of the way and pulled her in to kiss her as deeply as he could before he pushed her back to the opposite end of the couch and settled between her legs. “Say it,” he whispered, not quite begging. But he wanted to hear it. Because it made him feel better. It made him worry less about all the thoughts they had discussed in the last hour. He carefully shifted her leg as if he was worried it was the very same day she nearly bled out. He slipped his hand between their bodies feeling her through her leggings.

She moaned softly while he kissed the length of her throat and brushed his lips against the swell of her chest as she tried to maintain enough air to speak before she was lost in Harry and all his perfection.

She had no problem saying it. Because it was true. Truer than most anything she believed in her life. Harry was hers and he was going to protect her in any way he could even if she wasn't willing to put a tracking device in her body. “I’m all yours,” she promised breathlessly.

--

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[v-arbellanaris]

i go out of my way to tag my critical posts because i dont want to interrupt people's enjoyment of the game, but ive gotta say im getting really fucking annoyed at fan attitudes about anyone who has criticisms of the game at all

white people in the da fandom will hear "hey, why isnt the fact that racism/classism exists (which THE GAME has made clear for like 15 years now), and is systemic, ever mentioned or acknowledged in any real way in this game" and immediately have the worst bad faith take on the statement ever to immediately scream about how evil it is that People (because ofc they never imagine that any person of colour might be upset at the blatant erasure) Want Depictions of Bad Things like racism in their media

as an example, there is no consideration of slavery as a systemic practice in dock town - even as 'the poorest of the poor' social level, soporati are not slaves. i dont know if youve ever interacted with members of your society, but we do not fucking exist in a vacuum. dock town is not magically Not part of tevinter or tevinter politics - the fucking black divine literally has a whole fucking home base there. it literally wouldn't have taken that many changes either. we could have heard ambient banter about how the pay's shit, etc, but We All Know It Could Be So Much Worse (you could be enslaved). an ambient dialogue/banter about maybe someone working themselves desperately to the bone to try and buy their sibling back from servitude from a magister. like those are ugly situations, yeah, but do you see how that 1) lends some fucking depth to the population that is both consistent with the lore of previous games and 2) emphasising that people in dock town are not magisters, and are as subject to the whims of the ruling class as slaves are (can't believe i want class consciousness in my media, i know) and c) creating social and power distance between the magisters of tevinter and everyone else. but i dont recall getting anything like that in the game, but i do recall the two dockhands trying to awkwardly go on a date together. this is because veilguard is not interested in delving into these topics, which is a decision that was made, that i - a person who paid money for this game - get to criticise. on my own damn blog. under a read more on a correctly tagged post that you can choose not to engage with so as to not spoil your own hype.

YOU can't deal with your guilt so it makes YOU uncomfortable to see depictions of racism, but i dont have that problem. i don't get to opt out of racism in real life, i don't get to opt out of classism and casteism in real life, and so it's important to me to represent these experiences authentically and respectfully. if that kind of storytelling is not your cup of tea, that's fine, you can literally just say that - we all have different things we want out of our media. i might privately judge you but that's a valid take to have. but im getting really fucking annoyed by people acting Holier Than Thou and like Superior Understanders, and constantly undermining valid criticisms of how flat the sociopolitical contexts are in veilguard are either just Coming From The Racists, bad faith interpretations and/or illiterate idiots in the most fucking condescending way possible

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

Following you was the best decision I've ever made. Where else am I going to learn things like the types of cacti shown in the Anderfels in game are not ecologically accurate? I am being 100% genuine here I love it when you contribute random knowledge in lore discussions, best parts of my day when it happens

LMAO thank you anon this is very kind. the truth is I am simply an ecologist who cannot turn that part of my brain off even when i know better. like i KNOW the reason why there's cacti there is because someone just picked them from a list of vegetation assets to populate the region with but also 😭 😭 😭 ITS TOO WET THEY WOULD DIE

but yeah specifically i double majored in biology and geology in undergrad, then worked in a plant genetics lab during undergrad & the first year after I graduated, then I moved out west to do desert based fieldwork and started adding in a lot of soil science. now i have a masters in soil microbiology and am currently weeping my way through a PhD (dont ask about that one grad school is Hell).

but YEAH MAN specifically i've been living in and researching deserts for the last decade of my life so i'm always extra excited about those in games lmao. I'm the Hissing Waste's number 1 stan they RULE everyone else is just a COWARD who HATES RUNNING ACROSS HUGE MAPS FOR HOURS. have you instead considered taking a job in Death Valley so when you run through the dunes for 10 hours a day in 110º weather you can console yourself with the thought "at least there isn't a phoenix attacking me right now. the worst thing that's happened to me today is falling into a rodent burrow"????? o those were the days. i used to write all my fanfic by headlamp in my sleeping bag while listening to coyotes get alarmingly close, and cursing the moon for how bright everything gets with light colored sand. If there were two moons in real life i WOULD be mad enough to condemn one to the otherside of the earth for 100 years so i could get some sleep too actually.

here have some drylands ive worked in while i'm being nostalgic

worldbuilding is my favorite favorite favorite part of fantasy/sci fi and i know not everyone has my background in how the actual "world" part works. so i don't condemn people who have gone into writing and arts fields for not understanding these things when they build maps but i really cannot turn off the part of my brain that opens a book or game map and instantly sees they have made the rivers 1. go uphill 2. diverge midway through (not a thing) and 3. in places that would make no sense given topography, mountains, etc that would impact weather & rainfall. only my TRUEST AND MOST WIZENED OG FOLLOWERS will remember how much i wept trying to map out the plate tectonics of Thedas in order to explain what the fuck the mountain ranges are doing what they are.

anyway lots of people have followed me in the last couple months so thanks for this excuse to make an intro post with a lil more about me :)

[usedpidemo]

a tale of two (concert) halves... (storytime!)

I've made it clear over the past few updates that my real life struggles have really backed us into a corner. If the first half of 2024 was on hard difficulty, the second half has so far been on brutal. Personal relationships are falling apart, our physical health has been going through hell, and our finances are struggling to keep up with ever increasing debts. As much as I am a man of faith, I do struggle with maintaining such devout trust on the daily, because I am afraid of the worst.

But even during these tough times, it's comforting to know I won't be left for dead, and I can still find enjoyment in them.

Not gonna lie, I thought I would never attend a concert this year. IVE was coming back after a little over a year, but I didn't have money for it (and is something I still struggle to move on from). ITZY was coming back less than eight months when I saw them, but no Lia, and the ticket selling was insanely early (fuck you Live Nation). The only other girl group I think came here was fromis_9, which I still would love to see, but that was for a festival, so the setlist was extremely limited—and it was during finals week, so that was not gonna happen. There's just been an overall downturn of concerts compared to last year, so whether or not this is a good thing, you decide. (Seriously, no aespa, no (G)I-DLE, no NMIXX, etc.)

However—here comes Red Velvet, one of the holy trinity of 3rd gen girl groups (TwicePinkVelvet), celebrating their 10th anniversary with an Asia tour. By some miracle, I got a stimulus check two months ahead of my birthday, and yet it was still a hard decision, because I wasn't sure if other girl groups would also tour near the end of the year. Looking at what's to come for the last quarter of the year, I highly doubt it and 2025 is sure to be stacked, so it all paid off in retrospect.

It was a completely different experience than the first two outings. For one, it was fucking standing floor over seated, so I knew my body would be put through the torture rack. Second was the unpredictability of where I would end up—thankfully it wasn't first come first serve where I would be forced to camp early (which by the way, concert campers are disgusting and should be arrested). Still, my positioning would depend on my queuing number (which in itself was dependent on when you would buy your ticket, and obviously unless you got into the site as soon as it loaded up, the earlier), and while it wasn't completely shit—it still meant that a majority would get their preferred spot over mines.

Cut to the actual concert day and it was a tale of two halves. The first was the pre-concert, which wasn't all bad at the start—but then there was the queuing before entering the venue. I could have easily waited and taken my sweet time exploring and doing other shit, but I was pressured to queue early out of fear of not getting a good spot. I forgot that since it was queuing numbers, they would rearrange the line anyway, so I never really had a chance lmao. I really shot myself in the foot quite literally by adding an extra two hours standing around.

Everyone in VIP was given a bonus member card, and I didn't end up getting my bias. I tried bartering with other fans, but I absolutely failed. To add insult to injury, everyone else were able to trade and/or get theirs, so that fucking sucks.

It was also the first time I was forced to wear some kind of noise control for my ears. Didn't really have earplugs but Airpods were certainly a nice alternative. Fucking hell—this was the loudest of the three crowds I've ever been a part of, and it doesn't help that the audience would screech and shout out of tune. It was so goddamn annoying. Then you get to the ments/speeches, and they would just fucking bark and make monkey noises while the members were talking, and after performances. I counted a total of 12-14 times this happened throughout, and it never got any better. If the members weren't encouraging the audience, I'd probably have socked someone in the nose out of annoyance at some point.

As for the overall concert itself, I had a blast! I'm not that familiar with Red Velvet's colorful discography, but they performed most of their hits and title tracks (ripperoni Russian Roulette and Chill Kill). Not only that, but the set ran for almost 3 hours (2 hours 50 minutes as they did start like 10 minutes past schedule), and the energy persisted all throughout. Wendy was constantly flaunting her vocals, but Joy. Joy was absolutely fucking insane. Also, the fucking Zimzalabim encore is something everyone needs to experience once in their lifetime.

I wish I could say the pain was all worth it—but of course, life being life, it decides to fuck with me one more fucking time with the middle finger. After the show ended, we were all told to stay in our spots for the send-off event as everyone else were escorted out and the raffle winners from lower seating tiers were pulled in. We waited for 40 minutes, and then the members come out. It should be a cool moment! Except they were led by staff straight to the extended stage for a bit and then they'd get off, completely neglecting the sides, where me and a few others were. They would eventually go around the venue, but by the time we realized what has happening, it was too late—we never got to see them up close properly.

I'll be honest, while I don't feel as bothered thinking about it a few days on, when it happened, it almost ruined the entire experience for me. The organizers/staff had misdirected us and didn't organize properly, so some of us got a lesser experience than those who won the raffle, which is worse for us since we paid more. The send-off treatment here was way—way worse than in Bangkok and Jakarta, and it fucking pisses me off. We can't have shit in this country. I don't blame the girls for it; they were just following instructions and they had a flight to catch shortly after (not to mention they were tired as fuck). Still, the fact I paid so much for that underwhelming send-off experience just reinforces my opinion that hi-touches are simply better. At least everyone gets a fair shot, even if it was very brief. You can't win them all, I guess. I also do believe that it was bound to happen, the first two experiences were near-perfect and flawless in execution, so something had to give to bring me back down to earth.

Nevertheless, even if for just a few hours, it's nice to find some comfort and enjoyment despite the world around me crumbling down. To think that they're 10 years on and still as active as their younger contemporaries in K-pop is astounding. I can see why they're among the most beloved girl groups ever; there's only a handful with equal the talent and discography to match. This was also my first outing with a new camera, and when it was hitting, the shots were fucking hitting.

I really wish Bamboleo was part of the set tho.

[hannahssimblr]

It’s a dreary, drizzly evening that calls for streetlights earlier than usual, their light straining weakly through the thick mist off the bay, and as I glance down at Ivy with droplets of rain beading on the halo of frizz around her plaits I consider the fact that she was right, a jacket wouldn’t have been the worst idea. 

The lights are on early at Michelle’s house too, the voile netting over the netting in the living room window not giving anything away inside, just the vague shapes of whatever is on the television.

As always, the door is off the latch, and inside Jen is leaning against the counter by the toaster spinning a butter knife in her fingers. She gives me a wary look when we see each other. “She’s in the living room,” and holds her hand out to Ivy, “Hey Ives, do you wanna hang out with me for a little while? C’mere, oh, who did your hair today? Was it your brother? Yikes, okay let me have a look at this…”

I gingerly push through to the living room, where Michelle is engaged in an intense discussion with both of her parents. She’s slumped on the couch with puffy eyes while they stand with their backs to the fire, glancing at me with alarm as I enter the room wielding a bar of chocolate, which, in hindsight is a bit of a pathetic celebratory or consolation prize. 

“Hi.”

“Oh good, Jude,” Rahim beckons me over to the couch to sit with Michelle, and I take her hand, “can you tell her that this is not the end of the world?” He’s saying, voice tinged with impatience, “There are plenty of other opportunities.”

“Zero, huh?” I say gently, and she shakes her head, arm trembling as she passes the letters to me. One, two, three rejections. I read one of them briefly, from Paris. 

“‘...unimaginative and containing cliches…’ wow, that feels a bit harsh, doesn’t it? I don’t think they needed to be all like that about it.”

She breaks down in tears, “I’m a terrible artist.”

“No, you aren’t,” I skim through the one from Berlin, “Look, they’ve said here that this year’s application was their strongest in history. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

“I just feel so stupid.”

“What? No, you’re the furthest thing from stupid.”

“Michelle, there are other options,” Rahim practically pleads, “Why don’t you go back to the application portal before it is too late and put down something more reasonable?”

Debra agrees, “This is what we’ve been saying, Michelle, maybe art is wrong for you. See? You shouldn’t have changed your mind in the first place. There’s a good reason you decided against it-”

“Yeah well I want to do it now, don’t I?” Michelle snarls, swatting tears away from her cheeks, “Jude and I are doing this together, it’s already decided.”

Her mother eyes me warily before deciding that I should probably hear this too, “Love, you know it’s not always a good idea to make big life decisions based on your boyfriend. Nothing lasts forever.”

“How could you say that?”

“What happened to veterinary science, hm? Wouldn’t that be a good career?”

“I wanted to be a vet when I was like, seven, what are you on about?” 

“Or she could be a doctor, like me!” Rahim attempts, but this is only met with a fresh barrage of sobs. I rub my girlfriend’s back uselessly while the chocolate softens inside its wrapper against the heat of my leg. 

Debra is looking at me empathetically as I comfort her daughter, as though she and I have some connection now, like a baton has passed through some small exclusive club for people who have held Michelle while she cries. “How did you get on with your applications?” 

“Oh, um, yeah, I got in,” I feel guilty even saying it but Michelle doesn’t really react to the news, as though she already made an assumption, but I jump in to finish quickly before she can make another. “I won’t be accepting any of them, though, I mean, obviously. I was only ever going to move away if Michelle was coming too, and, you know, unless London works out then that won’t happen.”

Michelle kneads her eye with the heel of her hand, “Did you not get the email?”

“What email?”

“From the London school.”

“Uh, no, I just saw the letters.”

Her eyes widen, “So you didn’t see the NCAD email either?”

“Since when were there emails?” 

“Oh my God,” she’s on her feet then, all of her misery forgotten in favour of urgency. “Go and look right now, what the hell?”

“Love,” Debra attempts soothingly, “it’s probably better if Jude checks his emails on his own, isn’t it? The last thing we want is for this to set you off-”

We’re already running for the stairs, her behind me prodding my back the whole way up in a way that feels like she’s forcing me to walk the plank to my untimely death in a tank of piranhas. We burst into her room and she runs to navigate to gmail while I sweat despite the temperature of her room, which is always kind of cold. 

I log in and the page loads up to two new emails sitting brazenly in my inbox.  

“There they are, click them!”

“Michelle I just want to say that-”

“Oh, come on,” she seizes the mouse and clicks for me, first the one from London, and her voice is flat, “They accepted you. No surprises.”

“It doesn’t matter though, does it? If they didn’t accept you too then I’m not going.”

“Mm.” She immediately clicks the next one, from NCAD, “It’s just points,” she mutters in explanation, “So it all depends on our leaving cert,” scrolling, she reaches the bottom of the email where my points sit, undeniable in a bold black font against stark white. 

I feel her stiffen. “One thousand?” 

“Uh, wow, is that good?”

There is a long pause. “Jude, that’s literally maximum points.”

I can’t bring myself to look at her right away, but I feel her eyes on the side of my face, searing holes through my skin. 

“I thought your interview went badly.”

“Yeah me too!”

“Well then-” she breaks off to make some noise that’s somewhere between a scoff and a sob, “then how did you get such ludicrously high points?”

“Like what I said, I suppose. They were arseholes to everyone on purpose,” I spin around to her, “What did you get?”

“Four fifty.”

So I grab hold of her hands and hold her very tightly and very still, I want to seem sure, “No matter what happens, we’ll be okay,” I promise, “Even if none of this works out for you, I’ll still be right here, do you hear me?”

She nods. 

“I’m not going anywhere without you. God, I mean, why would I even do that? You’ll get NCAD off the back of your leaving cert points, I’m one hundred percent sure. And... even if you don't, I'll stay in Dublin.” As soon as I say it I start feeling nauseated, and dizzy, a bit heady like I’ve inhaled some miscellaneous gas from the science lab, but I fight through it, “fuck all of those stupid plans for going abroad, right? I’m here.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Okay, c’mere,” I pull her into me and hold her tightly, taking in the smell of her hair, the way her narrow shoulders, her birdlike frame softens in my arms and accept that this is the comfort I will rely on from now on. True, it’s not always easy with Michelle, but we really do love each other. Sometimes love is work, but love is rare and worth holding onto with both hands and your whole heart. All those plans I had, I think, they were misguided, a youthful mistake. Perhaps at some point in the future I can move to Amsterdam, or Paris, or Berlin, or London, and do something creative and exciting, but not now. That’s what I’ll do in ten years, when everything is different. I’ll make sure to tell Sam. 

Who did I think I was, really, trying to do all of that at eighteen? Now is for this, for Michelle. For doing something right.

“I love you,” she says, and I wonder, with her cheek resting against my chest, if she can somehow hear the way my heart tightens as though grasped by a fist, or how my breath catches in my throat when she says it. I’m surprised by the rising feeling that I might start crying, but I force it down.  

Crying over what, Jude? I sneer at myself. 

Yeah, that’s what I thought. Something stupid, as usual.

Beginning // Prev // Next

[crow-unknown]

Fnaf is 10 years old!

Well almost- apparently the Into The Pit game comes out EARLY TODAY, so I'm posting it on the day it releases!

Doing a little yap session down below so if u wanna read it go ahead :)

Ive been a fan for 10 years... that's something alright, being apart of a community/franchise this long has been a roller coaster. I remember making my first friend, I got him into fnaf by coming up to him and asking 'Hey, do u know the purple guy?' And we've been friends ever since

We we're in 3rd gade mind u.

Throughout the years I made a much of fanart, sadly I do not have them anymore because I threw them away. One of the most worst decisions of my life when i did that, and I regret it deeply.

I managed to find one and I'll put it here;

My dad, whos been here with me and my obsession since day one has always been my number 1 supporter, of course he was responsible when I wanted something but it was too expensive-

But he made one exception when i got a extremely rare fnaf plushie, which was a Exotic Butters one, and i still have it to this day! Just chilling with the rest of my other fnaf plushies that i own!

I have so many fond memories in my childhood of rolplaying fnaf at recess, customizing lps to look like the animaltronics, and collecting the figures that made Springtrap, Nightmare Puppet, and Ennard when collecting the main figures.

And i have to give it all to Scott, the main man that made this amazing amazing franchise. Idk where I'd be without it tbh, because this silly scary game made me who i am today and formed what I enjoy now!

So thank you Scott Cawthan, here to many more fnaf and another 10 years if it 🎉

[magnifythesun]

CCO Anthony Padilla and President Ian Hecox of Smosh

ooooooo let's goooo!

post writing notes: YAY OKAY IVE DONE IT!!! so i read this and immediately assumed you meant a business au and i for the life of me have not been able to think of what kind of business they would run in this fic SO it is "the company" and they make money and also have shareholders and they call their employees their "crew" and dont ask me any details i was unable to figure it out!! but i think this turned out pretty cute?? more angsty than i was anticipating but with comfort i promise.

also i stayed g rated since i wasn't sure what rating you were comfortable with but Company(TM) President Ian and CCO Anthony could get it on i think if anyone wants that in the future lmao, just don't expect any details on what the hell they're selling sorry lmao! also i know nothing about business

bonus points if you can spot the direct reference to the wikipedia article for the term CCO.

---

The responsibility of being in charge of the company weighed heavily on Ian. It had been at its worst when Anthony had left, the fear of driving the company into the ground, of not being a good enough leader, of failing to thrive without his right-hand man.

When Anthony had returned, it was like a breath of the freshest air. Although Ian maintained his position as President, Anthony taking the role of CCO was possibly the best business decision Ian had ever made. Anthony had always been best with the marketing and business strategy, with an eye for the best trends to get their company booming. A huge weight felt like it was moved off Ian's shoulders. He could just focus on the top-level stuff and taking care of his employees and leave the marketing, which Ian had always hated, to Anthony.

Still, this didn't mean Ian didn't get stressed anymore. Ian loved his work, but sometimes it became overwhelming, the way his mind spun around, worrying about the whether he'd assigned the right person to the right project, whether his employees were happy, and so forth. Over the course of each work week, the panic would build up inside, setting him on edge until he would lie awake at night, staring up at his bedroom ceiling as his mind flew.

Reprieve came from an unexpected corner.

There was a routine now. At the end of the work week, there was always a meeting, and he and Anthony would attend. Ian would mostly listen, too stressed and sleep-deprived to think of any meaning contribution. Plus, Anthony was better at leading the meeting anyway, as it was mostly about that week's sales. Afterward, Anthony would talk him down from all his worries, and Ian would be able to breathe until the next week began. This week was no different.

At the end of the meeting, everyone filed out, excited to book it home for the weekend, leaving Ian and Anthony alone in the big meeting room. Ian let out a sigh, his shoulders sagging, letting the last shards of his confident facade crumble and fall. Anthony glanced over at him as he shuffled his papers back into order.

"You alright?" He asked this every week.

"You know me," Ian waved a hand dismissively, "I get in my head."

"You're too hard on yourself, man," Anthony tapped the papers on the desk with finality. "Didn't you hear anything I said just now? Our sales are up, stockholders happy, and we even get to give a big bonus to the whole 'crew,' just like you always talk about doing."

Ian shook his head like he could knock the words away, standing up to face the big window that was letting in the light of the late afternoon sun.

"This year is going great, Ian! Why won't you let yourself celebrate this success that we've built?"

Anthony sounded tired. Ian couldn't blame him. They'd had this conversation every week for the last six months. However, this time, Anthony's words just couldn't shake the dread inside him.

This year, things were going great. But it wasn't that long ago when it had been the whole company on Ian's shoulders, margins in the red, the heavy weight of responsibility for all of his people's livelihoods crushing him into the ground. What's to say this year's success wouldn't be short-lived? Was there already something he wasn't seeing, some sign of trouble to come?

And what if, when things got rough... What if Anthony...

A gentle warm grip on his wrist startled him out of his thoughts. Ian turned, surprised. They'd had this conversation a million times, but Anthony always talked him out of it, sitting over at the table while Ian paced out his anxieties. He'd never come to join him by the window, and certainly had never—

Anthony tugged him slightly so that they were facing each other directly, the sunlight filtering through Anthony's hair so that the light brown highlights he'd gotten sparkled. Ian, for a blessed moment, couldn't think of anything else at all. Then, Anthony's hands took his own.

"I," Anthony started, not seeming sure of himself, "I get this feeling. Every week, I reassure you about the company. About how we're doing. About how our 'crew' seems really happy about where we're at, how we're seeing success at levels we could barely dream of back when we first started this." Anthony paused, his face filled with such genuine worry that Ian felt the hot sting of guilt roil in his stomach. "But, Ian, telling you all that doesn't seem to help you for very long."

Ian sighed, looking off to the side. "I'm sorry, I don't know-"

"I think I do," Anthony cut him off, reaching up to grab his shoulders instead. "Ian, I don't even know if I can say this in a way that will fully convince you, but I—," He pushed through with growing confidence, "I'm not leaving this company again."

How did this man always see right through him?

"I'm not leaving you again," Anthony said, quieter, and Ian couldn't stop the tears that were coming to his eyes. "Ever. Do you understand?"

Ian reached up and swiped the tears away. "Yeah," He said, shakily.

"I'm not leaving." Anthony shook him slightly, the look in his eyes so serious that it began to chip away at the pit in Ian's stomach that had sat there for years.

"Right. Yeah," Ian nodded his head.

"I'm not. We're gonna be running this thing for years," Anthony smiled, "Into the ground if necessary."

Ian laughed, "Okay, okay. I believe you." And he actually did. Another, heavier weight that he hadn't realized he was still carrying felt like it was melting away. "Alright, good."

They stood there just a little too long, Anthony's hands warm on Ian's shoulders, the sun bringing out each delicate shade of brown in Anthony's eyes. And again, for a moment, Ian couldn't think about anything else.

"Right, so." Anthony let go and walked back over to the table. Ian took in a slow, deep breath and let it out as Anthony grabbed his papers and shoved them in his briefcase. "I don't know if you even realized with your President head so far above the clouds, but we just wrapped a fiscal year!"

Ian rolled his eyes. "Of course I know that."

"Just checking!" Anthony beamed at him. "So, wanna celebrate? How about soup at your place?"

That startled a sharp laugh out of Ian. "That's the biggest celebration you can think of?"

"Look," Anthony held up a haughty finger. "As your CCO, I think making soup tonight will allow us to achieve our long-term objectives."

Ian scoffed. "Yeah, your long-term objective to have me cook you soup," Ian said dryly, grabbing his own briefcase and heading toward the door.

"No, hey, hear me out!" Anthony followed him out. "I've got a whole pitch for it and everything!"

[seokmn]

chapter XI : i dont want you sitting on my lap either

wc: 1k words

seokmin knocked on seulgi’s door gently, “noona, it’s me. open up please”, after a few seconds the door opened, revealing the image of seulgi and it immediately broke seokmin’s heart. she was trembling and with puffy eyes, she looked devastated, like the worst thing had just happened to her… because it kind of happened.

seokmin placed the bags from the grocery shop on the floor and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tightly. once seulgi was in seokmin’s embrace she broke down again, sobbing loudly and mumbling things seokmin couldn’t understand, “its gonna be okay…”, seokmin caressed her hair gently and kissed the top of her head, “its gonna be okay, i promise”

they stayed like this for a while until the moment seulgi broke the hug and spoke with a shaky voice, “thanks for coming.. come in”, seokmin smiled at her and nodded, grabbing once again the grocery bags and coming inside her apartment. he placed the bags on the kitchen counter and sat on the couch, patting his lap while looking at seulgi with a kind expression.

“you want me to… sit on your lap? i dont want that” seulgi said sniffing, she looked more calm but confused and kinda disgusted about his request. seokmin laughed and shook his head, “are you crazy? i dont want you sitting on my lap either! rest your head on my lap, let me comfort you”

“ah.. that makes sense” she said giving him a small and weak smile and laying on the couch, placing her head on his lap. seokmin’s hand quickly went to her hair, caressing it softly. he didnt say anything, hoping she would talk first, but when he noticed she wasnt going to speak first, he spoke up, “you know that no matter what happens, i dont and wont regret being in a fake relationship with you, right?”

“i know… youre the best guy ive ever met, thank you for everything” seulgi spoke quietly, her voice breaking, indicating that she was about to burst into tears once again, “but i wish we didnt do that… i should’ve fought for irene, for our love. but i acted as a coward, i thought that faking a relationship with someone, with a man specifically, would be the solution of all of my problems. i didnt think about what would come next.. i couldn’t live in a fake relationship for the rest of my life”

seokmin listened to her words carefully, a frown deepening on his face, “dont say that, you and irene made this decision together, also, shes an idol and its a homosexual relationship. you two were scared of the hate and the homophobia you could receive and suffer.” he paused, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to not cry before opening again, “im sorry that it had and has to be like this, im sorry that you had to hide your feelings and your real relationship with your soulmate just because of her gender and her career”

seulgi shrugged her shoulders, staring at the wall with a picture of her and irene on it, “i talked to her before you get here”

“and? what will you two do?” seokmin asked, “we’ll tell the truth. her company will confirm the rumors and ill post an apology letter and explain everything. i wont tell about your secret tho, i wouldnt dare to”

seokmin smiled at her, even tho she wasnt looking at him, “thank you… now, have you already eaten?”, seulgi shook her head, “ill cook for you then, i already knew your answer would be a no”, he said lifting her head carefully and gently so he could get up from the couch and walk towards the kitchen. seulgi sat up on the couch and watched him as he made his way to her kitchen.

“im really glad youre my best friend, thank you for everything, literally everything”, she said as seokmin started to cook, his back facing her, “you dont need to thank me, everything that i did i only did because i love you and id do anything to make you happy, just like id do to make any of my friends happy. plus, i got to pretend to have something i’ll never have so you were helping me as well”

she didnt say anything, she always knew how the lack of a soulmate affected seokmin quite deeply. she hated it, she wanted seokmin to have a seokmin in his life, to have someone as sweet as him to be his lover. after all, seokmin deserves it, he deserves to be loved just like he loves people. if he did all that for the sake of his best friend and to see her happy, then what could he do for his loved one? its not fair to him, she wanted to see him being happy.

“food’s ready, come eat”, he said after a while, his sudden words made seulgi look at him, getting back to reality after finding herself lost in her thoughts about seokmin. she smiled and walked towards the dinner table, “smells delicious”

before seulgi could sit on the chair, the doorbell rang, “are you expecting someone?”, seokmin asked and seulgi shook her head.

seokmin slowly made his way to the front door and opened it, his eyes opened wide when he saw irene standing there. he looked at seulgi and then at irene, “hum.. noona?”

“ye-“ seulgi stopped talking in the same moment she saw irene, the woman smiled at her and in a blink of an eye seulgi found herself wrapped around irene’s arms.

“i- huh… i guess ill get going then. enjoy your time together and the food, please. i cooked with a lot of love” he said, but it was like he didnt even say a thing, the lovebirds were too focused on their own world to even remember or notice seokmin’s presence. he smiled at the sight of them hugging each other and mumbling “i love you” repeatedly and left seulgi’s apartment.

once he was out, he grabbed his phone and saw a bunch of notifications of his gc and missing calls, mostly from chan.

“shit, this is going to be hard to explain”

prev - next

INVISIBLE STRING

in a world where when you turn 18 you share an invisible string with your soulmate that only you and your respective soulmate can see it, seokmin, also known as dokyeom, is an actor in the musical theatre world that doesnt have a soulmate and keep it as a secret. meanwhile, yn works in a bookstore and doesnt seem bothered at all by the fact of not sharing a string with someone. is it possible to change the destiny and find your soulmate even tho you dont share the invisible string with anyone?

[evilsituation]

ahem. jimmy is one of the most fantastically written envious characters ive ever seen. our worst moments do not make us monsters but dude DUDE the continuous one long really bad moment. you had your out and you couldn't get over it until the very end. its so. ooooough.

just one of the best characters ive ever seen put to fiction

he fucks me up so much he constantly digs himself deeper into his mistakes and comes up with solutions that make them worse. he can't admit any of it.

he is so full of contempt for curly that when he finds out they're all losing their jobs he turns it on Curly to somehow imply Curly is getting a positive out of it while also putting down everyone to imply that they are worth nothing. he's so perfectly flawed I love him. he resents curly because despite them being friends who have worked together for a long time he feels Curly is somehow better than him and in some ways he's right. Curly is kind and helpful while Jimmy is often pretty detached and hostile. Curly is very thoughtful while Jimmy is careless. He's the copilot for a reason. Real Brutus energy coming from him. (btw I hope this doesn't come across as me comparing Jimmy to the rage and resentment Brutus feels regarding being a woman and stuff.) <- i just mean he grows to deeply hate his companion and wants to be better than them or be them.

and in the end his negligence is what sets nearly everything into place and dooms them. he's so careless every step of the way no matter how much he claims to try and fix it. I love him for how much he misunderstands everything and fails LOL. his decision to put Curly first for once and take his own life is a culmination of all his guilt and frustration. I feel sad he killed himself of course and that's a horrible thing to do . but shows him prioritizing someone else for once. he gave curly the cryopod and because his other option was slowly die of thirst I appreciate he made the decision to end it early. I'm happy he finally grew enough to accept his mistakes and save Curly.

however I still cried I love this game and it's messaging. here's to my au called mouthwashing 2 where everyone survived sued pony express for poor working conditions and now live on the beach and get to drink martinis every day :)

[kaepop-trash]

Notorious: Act IV

Rated: 18+ ONLY, Smut, Neo-Noir, Femme Fatale, Undercover Agent, Criminal, Exes to "Lovers", Mutual Pining, Cat and Mouse dynamics but make it hurt.

Pairing: JaehyunxReaderxJohnny

Summary: Inspired by Notorious (1946), Ever since your father went to jail for an illegal arms trade, a lot had changed in your life. Your present was about living with a tarnished reputation, the only redemption being a strange man who you agreed to help get to the root of the same trade that ruined your family. Still, just as you were adjusting to that very man, your past came back to haunt you. The only part of your past that had ever been happy till it wasn't, a part you could leave behind but never forget. But if Johnny was your past and Jaehyun your present, what would your future be?

Chapter Summary: Johnny asks (Y/N) for a precious favour. Jaehyun is against it and she isn't too keen on it either. What do you do when your worst fears come true?

Warnings: Smut; Fingering, Penetration, unprotected sex; Strong themes of alchoholism, emotional abuse, emotional manipulation, gaslighting. THIS IS NOT MEANT TO BE ASPIRATIONAL.

Word Count: 9.7k

(A/N): This took me a very long time because it was very heavy to write. Without getting too much into it, I just hope everyone can forgive me for being so inconsistent.

Act I | Act II | Act III

Taglist: @commentgirl @sadgirlroo @nak4m8to @babyksworld @milkyway-vxm @hwangfulok-blog

Johnny took her hand in his under the table, an old habit that she had just learned to live with by now. The immobility the gesture gave, made it hard to open the menu so she just leaned over to the side to peer into his.

(Y/N) could see his lips tug from the corner of her eye at the gesture as he brushed a kiss against her temple. When she turned, he gave her a pursed smile, eyes glimmering with the light that had slowly started returning in the past month. The same glimmer that made her fall in love with him once upon a time.

“You should get the shrimp pasta, they make it really well here.” His voice was soft. She had to look away to ignore the thumping in her chest, giving him a nod. He was happier lately, more than perhaps she could recall. The only time she could remember him being happier was the day he got on one knee in front of her.

(Y/N) pulled herself out of her thoughts with a harsh tug, “Sure, that sounds good.” She shrugged. “I’ll have that and a glass of rosé.”

“You’re not drinking.” He stated with a brisk finality.

“Why not?” She turned to give him a frown. “I want a glass of rosé.”

“You don’t need it though, sweetheart.” He lifted her hand, giving it a kiss. “It’s just a glass of wine.”

“Exactly.” She pulled her hand out of his, “It’s just a glass of wine that I want to pair my food with.

Johnny sighed, “I’m just looking out for you.”

“I appreciate it.” She spoke, clearly not meaning it. “I’m still getting myself what I want.

“(Y/N).” His voice was an impatient warning that he tried to soften with a sigh.

“Stop speaking.” She didn’t soften the warning in her tone. “You can’t make decisions for me.”

“Why are you being like this?” Johnny frowned, “I’ve noticed that you drink too much and I’m just concerned. Why are you making me sound like a villain?” He sounded hurt, brows furrowing.

She stared at him for a moment, feeling whiplash from how rapidly he made her feel nineteen years old again. She had to look away to curb her anger. She reminded herself that she wasn’t nineteen anymore and took a deep breath instead of just spitting her anger out at him. She was not going to make it easier for him.

“I’m not trying to make you sound like a villain. That was not my intention, I apologise if it sounded like that.” She surrendered, looking away and catching a waiter’s eye.

Johnny looked extremely confused from her admittance, forehead creasing for a second before he sighed and gave her a tight lip smile. Johnny had been ready for a fight. One where he could emerge as the martyr, as was his habit. And she was not going to make it easy.

“I just want what’s best for you.” He reasoned.

“I know. I’m sorry.” She hummed, looking up just as the waiter approached. When it looked like Johnny was going to reach for her hand, she busied it by reaching for her glass of water. Johnny didn’t say anything, neither did he make any further attempt to touch her. When the waiter asked if they wanted something to drink with their food, she said no.

“They have a raspberry pudding on the menu.” Johnny spoke for the first time once their plates were empty. "Should we order some?" He asked, speaking like he was walking on eggshells.

"Sure." She spoke, giving him a compliant nod. Johnny flexed his jaw, turning away from her to call a waiter. His forehead creased with clear markings of irritation. The audacity of it offended her, but she willed herself to keep her mouth shut and they finished their dinner in silence.

They made it back to his house like that, Johnny following behind her as they ascended the stairs that led to the living room.

"Why are you angry at me when I was just looking out for you?" He spoke just as she turned to go upstairs to the bedroom.

"Who said I'm angry?" She resisted the urge to frown.

"You are angry." He huffed.

She turned to him with eyes void of any emotion at all. "No I'm not.” She lied. “You just want me to be angry because then you can tell me how you were looking out for me and how I'm not justified in my anger."

Johnny looked a little caught off guard by the assessment, yet recovering in a beat. "I was looking out for you."

Sharp anger rose to her head from the repeated sentence. Like if he said it enough times, she'd somehow believe him. Or he’d believe himself.

"I know. And I am not angry. I said I'm sorry to you then. So why are we having this conversation?” She furrowed her brows, feigning confusion.

“I know you. I especially know your anger.” He injected.

“Was deciding what I'll consume not enough? Now you want to decide how I'm feeling?" The words slipped off her lips with increasing hostility, realising too late when Johnny's frown unfurled. He had trapped her.

"I thought you weren't angry." He took a step closer towards her.

"I'm not." She turned away from him, feeling like a child caught in a lie.

"I wasn't trying to control you.” He took a step on the stairs, coming around her to meet her gaze— and to tower over her. “I was just doing what someone who cares would." He tried to reason, tone still infuriatingly chastising.

"I didn't say you were controlling me." She said without bite, not looking up at him, adamant to not give him anything to use against her again. She knew how he fought, always ready to make himself the victim so she was left to be the perpetrator.

"In only so many words." He came closer, putting a hand over the one she had on the railing. "I just don't see why you drink all the time. You almost finished the whiskey I keep in the office." His tone changed and she tried to move away from the concern.

"I'll buy you more." She tried to go around him, stopping when he squeezed her hand to curb her ascend.

"You know that's not what this is about." His voice edged on a sense of betrayal. "I know things haven't been easy for you. Nobody knows that more than me. But this isn't the answer. Sometimes we need to face things instead of hiding behind temporary solutions."

She gripped her own jaw this time, tight me enough that her cheekbones ached.

"You're assuming too much." Her voice was low, a dangerous line where any louder would make the rolling fury in her erupt. "I'm not hiding." She turned to look at him, "I'm sorry my drinking concerns you. But I don't do it as a crutch." She defended herself, neither of them believing her words entirely.

Johnny looked like he was going to say something but he let go, leaning closer to kiss her brow instead.

"Let's not be like this. I don't want us to fight over every little thing like we used to." He mumbled against her, pulling away to give her a smile and pulling her hand away from the railing into his.

She didn't protest, giving him a nod that they both knew was half hearted.

That night (Y/N) went home. Johnny didn't say anything when she asked to be dropped to the apartment, he knew why. She always took time to be by herself when she was angry. He always told himself that it wasn't to be away from him, but to see the arguments with a much needed distance. He always told himself that she did exactly what he did. And he accepted it because out of all the times she left, it was only once when she didn't come back. He knew this time wouldn’t be the second.

A few days later he asked to meet her at a cafe on Copacabana. Without considering it a choice, she went.

"I'm getting an award." Johnny spoke first, taking the time to drink his coffee before doing so.

Her lips parted to silence, unsure about how to react. "For what?" She asked, swallowing after.

Johnny failed to bite down the smile at the corner of his lips, "Some business award. The company made good profits last year."

"That's great, Johnny. I’m so proud of you." She gave him a smile, weak despite her conscious effort.

"I want you to come with me." He added, stumbling over the words.

"Where would we go?" She questioned with a lighter tone. Johnny didn't respond immediately, instead avoiding her gaze and fidgeting with the handle of his small espresso cup. Realisation dawned on her, squeezing her lungs painfully. "No. I can't." She wanted to sound firm but her words came out a plea.

"It'll just be for three days. It'll be over before you know it. Just an evening of meeting a few strangers." He added with a soft look in his eyes.

"Johnny, I–" she tried to reason, to explain to him how he was asking the impossible of her. "Everybody will talk. Home is–" her words failed her again.

"I know." He reached across the table, grabbing her hand. "But I'll be right there with you. It's an important day for me, (Y/N). It's an important day for the business. So many of my father's family fought tooth and nail to break the company apart. They said I could never take on my father's mantle." His fingers squeezed her palm. Unintentionally, she noted.

"This award." His jaw flexed, "It's a product of every effort I put, everything I've sacrificed. It's proof that all of it was worth something in the end." His eyes clouded with some far away storm, mirroring the encroaching clouds above them. “For them, at least.”

He snapped out of it at the moment, looking at her with a soft smile, "Everybody else there will be an enemy or a stranger. I want you to be there. You're all I have."

His words made the pressure on her lungs shift to the cavity of her heart, pressing down with a punishing weight. There was nothing to say to such a heartfelt plea. It didn't matter that going back home was something that would bring her nothing good, not when the alternate was so heartbreaking.

She could picture Johnny standing there, receiving some mass produced trophy while apathetic and vindictive people all watched and clapped. 

It also seemed to make her see how lonely he must have been all these years. All his achievements, small and big, as well as his failures passing by without a person to pat his back or lend their shoulder. 

"Alright. I'll come." The way the simple gesture made his entire face light up did not make her feel good. These days she was found guilt becoming a chronic pain— one that bothered constantly but had bouts of intensity.

The Two Faces of Concern

“You can’t go.” He got off the sofa in a fury. “We don’t know what kind of people he associates with. We don’t know what could go wrong.” His brows fluffed up in fury, knitting together impossibly tight.

“I don’t have a choice.” She looked to the floor, confused and angered by his demeanor. “What am I supposed to say when he asks me to go with him for something so important?”

“You say you’ll think about it.” He added with an incredulous fury. “Then you come to me! And I we come up with an excuse for you.” His voice rose higher.

“That’s not going to work.” She needed to pause. After so many years, such constant bouts of anger felt unsettling to her. “You don’t know him. That’s why I’m here. Your boss gave me a task. To keep him close and to keep an ear out. I am doing exactly what I was told to do.”

“You can’t do anything if you’re dead!” He pointed his hand at her, his gesture and tone bordering on accusatory. He paused, taking a step back and swallowing. Jaehyun cursed under his breath, a hand coming to his waist while the other rubbed his face.

He walked a few steps around the room, trying to calm down it seemed, before coming back to her. This time he kneeled in front of her, taking her hands in his. “Listen to me.” He urged. “Look at me, (Y/N).” He practically pleaded. The desperation in his tone was the only reason she turned to face him. “I know that you think you’re safe. I know you believe you know this man because you knew him once. But you don’t know what he’s capable of. What he’s already done.” He sighed, no doubt understanding the stubborn refusal in her.

Jaehyun’s head dropped, looking defeated. “If something happened to you. I would never forgive myself.” He put a hand on her thigh. The way she turned to glare at it made him recoil. “You’re my responsibility.” He spoke after swallowing the hurt from her gesture. “I’m the sole reason you agreed to do this.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She interjected. She thought the blow would make her feel good about herself. But seeing his face drop only tugged at her now sore chest.

“Why did you agree to go?” He asked, his eyes turning into frigid slits.

“I didn’t think I had a choice.” She repeated herself, each word uttered with a pause to emphasize.

“You always have a choice.” He threw his reciprocating blow with a featherlight tone. Her lips parted from offense, ready to defend herself. But he clarified, “I’ve been watching you. I’ve seen how you change around him.” His accusations cut through her like knives.

“And what change is that, pray tell?” She questioned.

“Your edges soften around him. You let him sway you with his words. You believe his lies despite yourself.” He assessed clinically, like a man whose job it is to read people.

“I feel sorry for him!” Hot tears pricked at the corner of her eyes, “Surely you can at least try to understand how it must feel. And I'm always tiptoeing around him because your boss wants me to keep him happy!" She deflected the accusation, distantly wondering why she was getting so defensive.

“He’s devoted to you.” Jaehyun simply stated, looking away from her with a grimace.

"I know." She spoke around the lump forming in her throat at her own confession. "Which is why your caution is out of line."

"The more the devotion, the more betrayal he will feel eventually, (Y/N). Remember that when you're in a different country with him, out of my reach. When I can't save you if something happens." He cautioned still.

Maybe his words made her feel like a child, something she hated feeling, because her next words were self-admittedly out of line.

"I'm out of your reach every time I'm in his bed too, Jaehyun." The words were no louder than a pin dropping. “He could choked me to death while inside me and you wouldn’t know.”

Jaehyun got up in a huff that left a gust of air in it's wake. He turned away from her swiftly as she tried to push down the part of her that wanted to take the words back.

"When are you leaving?" He questioned, adjusting his clothes and distracting himself.

"Day after." She answered dispassionately.

"The least you can do is keep me updated on your whereabouts. The captain will need a report on it." He was already ready to walk away.

"Sure." Her response was the final task he had, taking long strides and shutting his bedroom door with a loud thud.

She sighed, the solitude allowing her to finally drop each pretense she had to keep up just to survive each day. 

Tears were almost commonplace on her lashes now. Angry tears, frustrated tears, heartbroken tears and tears of defeat. But each fresh bout always left her feeling betrayed by her own body.

Home

Coming home was odd. Even from the moment she landed, the airport was very familiar to her. Johnny didn't point out how silent she was ever since they landed. In fact, he seemed deep in his own thoughts while both of them watched the familiar streets pass by.

(Y/N) was so engrossed in her thoughts that it took her a while to realise that that the streets they passed were a little too familiar. When they stopped in front of a building she would recognise anywhere, her heart dropped into her stomach. When she turned to look at Johnny, his smile was a small one. The gleam in his eyes though was unmistakable.

“How?” She questioned, voice barely above a whisper.

“Let’s go home first, I’ll tell you upstairs.” He told her, reaching over to take her hand in his. To go Home.

Walking into her old apartment was like being transported back in time. Everything was as she remembered, including the little trinkets of decoration scattered around the space. The teal vase on the table in front of the foyer, the dark green couch, even the white curtains were all things she had bought herself once upon a time. (Y/N) was speechless.

“When I heard they were auctioning your father’s estate after the trial, I tried not to give it mind.” Johnny spoke after closing the door behind him. “But I ended up looking up the catalogue.” She could hear him come closer, her eyes still busy scanning her old apartment. “When I saw that this apartment was on the list. I couldn’t help myself.” He stopped a few steps behind her.

“How?” Her voice gave away her surprise, “How did you pay for it? Your father was still–” She stopped, unsure of whether that was a line she could tow.

“He didn’t even know about it.” He stated with a razor thin edge to his voice. “I broke my trust fund and managed to buy the place with everything intact.” He continued, sounding so utterly dismissive about it.

“Johnny.” She finally turned to face him, all the building emotions bubbling up her throat. 

“This was my home too.” His hands remained in his pocket, eyes on the floor. “In my entire life, this was the place I was the happiest. I wasn’t ready to let that go. Especially when it was one of the rare things I had the power to keep.”

She could understand his feelings even if the gesture overwhelmed her. She remained silent for a moment longer, just looking him over till Johnny shifted under the prolonged scrutiny.

“You’re making me nervous.” His forehead creased. The chuckle that left him was dry.

Good. She thought, now he knew how she felt around him all those years ago.

“Say something.” He added with a smaller voice. "Please."

She took two steps till he was in arm’s reach, clutching at his t-shirt to pull him the rest of the way. Their lips met in a clumsy crash, teeth clashing into teeth. Johnny’s arms snaked around her waist to control the pace.

There was no haste in their movements anymore. Johnny had nothing to prove this time, and she had nowhere to hide. It was a slow kiss that only existed to exist. Like walking around your house in the dark because you know every turn like the back of your hand.

When his hips pressed against hers, she stumbled back with confidence. Letting instinct take over, they moved towards the destination known to them instinctually. She didn’t even realise where she was stumbling to till her back pressed against the piano.

His hands dragged down her back, and she leapt without being told, arms resting on his neck. Gingerly, he sat her down on the polished black surface.

“This is still my favourite place to fuck you.” He whispered against her mouth, peppering kisses over her face as he stroked her dress higher up her thighs.

“Me too.” She answered, tugging his belt off with a quick tug.

“I have waited.” He spoke between his increasingly heavy kisses, “I’ve laboured.” He nipped against her shoulders, “I even prayed.” His tongue swirled over the vein on her neck, bringing short gasps from her. “And I would have done more.” He dragged his teeth over her skin, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “I would drag down heaven to earth, if it meant I could have you back here. That’s why I couldn’t let this place go. Because I will never let you go.” 

His words left her light-headed, unable to breathe. After tugging his pants below his waist, she sighed with relief when he pulled it off the rest of the way himself. Her hands reached the hem of his shirt just as his index tapped her thigh, a silent request to lift her hips off the piano. The remainder of their clothes hit the floor together, lips crashing together shortly after the interruption.

“Sometimes I think I’ve finally gone crazy. That I wished for you so bad that I created an illusion just to survive.” His laboured breath fanned her neck.

“I told you.” The strain of her breath matched his, “If this was a dream it would be easier.” His fingers brushed over her naked heat, slipping into her slowly.

“No.” He said as her eyes fluttered shut, “I wouldn’t be, (Y/N). I love all of you. Even my illusions would be of who you are, not who you can be.”

“Including the difficult parts?” Her jaw dropped when he began scissoring his fingers.

“Especially those. But you already know that.” He kept up his ministrations till Johnny was satisfied that he’s stretched her out well. "I know you feel the same." There was a fragile hope in his voice.

“I can’t love what I don’t know.” Her heart began hammering, and it had nothing to do with how he brushed over her G-spot. She willed her eyes to look into his, “Tell me your worst.” She requested, eyes meek but voice resolute. Her form faltered when he began to enter her without warning, easing himself in a few inches at a time. “You already know all of mine.” She lied.

“I will. One of these days.” He promised, both of them groaning when he filled her up completely.

She knew his words were a lie. Johnny would never tell her the truth. It wasn't because he didn’t want to, she knew that he craved understanding more than anything else. His claims of seeing her so absolutely came with the desire to want to be seen with the same transparency. But he’d hold the secret to himself because he knew her. 

He knew that she would struggle to accept the reality of who he was. Two months ago, he would have been right. These days she felt like this charade was marking itself on her skin.

“Johnny.” She moaned when she felt her gut tie into a knot. “Don’t stop.” She pawed at his chest, unsure whether she wanted to pull him closer or push him away.

“Never.” He promised again, leaving a trail of gentle kisses all over her face as he increased his pace. He watched her intently as her face scrunched up, her jaw going slack as she came crashing down.

She wasn’t sure when he came, but when he pulled out, she felt the warmth ooze out of her. Exhausted from the long trip and everything that followed, her thoughts lost the ability to linger, and she simply leaned over to rest her head on his shoulder, surrendering her weight soon after. He picked her up with ease, lifted her legs to wrap around his waist and guided them to the bedroom that was once hers— that they once shared during a time when the future felt a lot more certain. 

She fell asleep in his arms and, for the first time in years, it felt right. She blamed her old apartment and her sleep-addled brain for it. With your eyes closed, it was hard to remember when in time she was.

The next two days were spent locked away. The days were passed between the sheets, caught between the memories of a once-perfect life. 

Johnny was lighter here. His eyes were brighter and he was less burdened by his own notions. It felt closest to the Johnny she was once crazy about from afar. It was the Johnny she went to watch at basketball matches in school and then at his University when he graduated before her. She didn't even like basketball.

He even resorted to his old sense of humour. One she had almost not noticed the lack of. Despite all signs pointing to otherwise, (Y/N) always knew Johnny for his intensity. To see him like that all the time now had begun to feel natural to her.

So it surprised her when she seemed to easily match his quips with her own. He was surprised too, she could tell with a dizzying sense of glee. For the first time, their relationship seemed to be on equal footing. Even if the relationship itself was a sham.

"Have you decided what you want to wear to the ceremony?" Johnny questioned over breakfast on the third day. 

She shook her head at her omlette, "I figured you'll pick." She shrugged.

Johnny looked pleased when she met his eyes, trying to hide it like he was caught. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to." He stated as he reached for his juice.

"Why not?" She frowned, "You always pick outfits for these things."

"That's exactly why I wasn't sure."

She felt ambushed by the remark, not sure why he sounded so aggrieved. Not wanting to ruin a good week they had been having, she acted like she didn't notice.

"One less thing to worry about." She tried to keep her her tone light, brushing it off with a shrug.

She ended up joining him on a quick errand run in the afternoon. He promised to quickly drop something off at the office before taking her to buy something. Having nothing better to do, she agreed.

When she walked into Johnny's office, she was aware that people watched as they walked by. Despite only coming into the building a handful of times her entire life, it was understandable that they knew who she was. The lingering whispers told her that they probably knew what she had once done too, or what her father did. It was like the moment she left the safety of seclusion, she was reminded once again how stifling this world could be.

(Y/N) stood in the changing room, running her hands over the fitted bust of the dress on her. She tried to picture herself, standing beside Johnny on an occasion where he was the guest of honour. All eyes on him, and as a consequence on her. Her hand turned over, knuckles digging into the beading on the corset. Did she look like she deserved to stand beside a man like that?

The last thought soured in her mind the very next second, a burdensome idea that pulled out the rotting creature inside her— the creature of habit. She walked out to look for the attendant to unzip her, only to find that Johnny had returned from browsing the shop. He looked up when he heard the curtains draw open, his attention seizing immediately.

"You look beautiful." He told her, eyes dragging over her entire form before coming back to her eyes and making her cheeks heat up.

"I don't like it too much." She looked away from him, busying herself with scanning the rack of clothes she had picked for fun. All in an attempt to avoid second guessing herself in the face of his compliment.

"I picked something for you." She didn't know when he had moved so close, gasping when his breath hit the back of her neck.

Her fingers stilled on a dress she thought would flatter her, a dress she could actually like. "Show me." She asked softly.

She ended up picking the dress Johnny picked. Looking in the mirror, it felt like the dress that most suited the intention she was going for. Most importantly, Johnny looked happy when they left the boutique.

He was still grinning when they got into the car. He turned to her with the kind of sparkle in his eyes that still never failed to make her heart skip a small beat. She blamed this on the fact that those sparkles were now rare.

“I just have one last thing to do and then we can go home. Do you want to get dinner before that or do you want to eat at home?” He reached over to take her hand in his.

“Let’s just eat out. I don’t want you to go back and cook, that’s too exhausting.”

“I don’t mind.” He shrugged.

“Yeah but I do.” She laughed, “I want you to myself after we get home.” She looked away from him with a coy smile. Laughing when Johnny leaned closer as she predicted.

“You know how to convince a man, (Y/N).” He teased her.

“I know how to convince you.” Her eyes rolled back as his lips pressed against her neck, lips parting when he hummed.

“Of course you do. I am a lucky man, after all." He placed a kiss on her neck, lingering long enough to elicit a reaction from her.

The driver stopped, silently signalling their arrival. (Y/N) looked out the window, confused about what she saw. 

“A jewellery store? Should I be worried?” She only partially joked, swallowing her folly when he gave her a half-hearted smile in response.

"Rin is getting married next month. I wanted to get her something nice." 

“Oh,” was all she could manage in response. "But she's so young." She mumbled, picturing the small girl that followed Johnny around.

He laughed, his cheeks stretching into the whiskers she hadn’t seen in years till that moment. "She's younger than us for sure." He reached out, taking her hands into hers. "But old enough to start her own family, I guess." He squeezed her knuckles once before giving a tug. "Let's go?"

"Oh, I-" She looked out of the window beside her, "What will I do?" She said awkwardly.

"Give your fashionable opinion on what to get." He shrugged avoiding her gaze, opening the door on his side to the curb.

(Y/N) felt confused by the change in his demeanour but nodded with a smile, following him out of the vehicle. Johnny took her hand in his, squeezing it once again.

“You look so beautiful today.” He gave her a tight lipped smile, not really looking at her before saying it. 

Her brows knit together, wondering why he was acting strange. The question was bubbling up to her lips as they walked into the store. And then a sound made her turn to look.

“Johnny!” Rin squealed with a wide grin. The next moment her eyes fell on (Y/N). Her smile flipped instantly, gaze steeling over. Johnny squeezed her hand again.

“Have you picked anything yet?” He asked back, trying to hide the strain in his voice with a breezy laugh.

Rin didn’t speak, she didn’t move. All she did was stare at (Y/N), eyes full of suspicion and disgust. (Y/N) pictured the Rin she remembered, with the wide and kind smile that both her and Johnny got from their mothers.

(Y/N) wished the ground would swallow her, or a strong wind would sweep her away.

“What is she doing here?” Another voice chimed in, Rin’s mother. (Y/N) squeezed Johnny’s hand, he didn’t reciprocate.

Rin’s eyes caught the moment, falling to their joined palms. “They’re back together.” She said in tandem with her realisation, turning back to face her mother. A silent conversation passed between them where (Y/N) only caught the look on the mother’s face. More distrust, even more disgust. 

Johnny’s aunt never liked (Y/N). Her family was a newcomer in their circle, moving into town after her grandfather sold their ancestral property to his government. (Y/N)’s family was older than theirs, and they were richer than Rin’s father. 

(Y/N) and her father were born in this city. But to Rin’s mother and those like her, (Y/N) was always going to be just one thing. A foreigner.

“Yes we are.” Johnny spoke up after several moments, his voice small. He tugged at her hand lightly, making her realise that (Y/N) had shifted to hide behind him. “You know how much Rin loved to dress up in (Y/N)’s clothes. That’s why she wanted to help pick my gift.”

(Y/N)’s ears rang so loud that she didn’t hear their response or what Johnny said in return. She slipped out of the present moment, wrapping herself in her mind and hiding in its comfort. Rin used to love dressing up in (Y/N)’s clothes because she was a teenager whose parents dressed her like a toddler. Rin used to look upto (Y/N) because she was her favourite cousin’s favourite person. And now she was the one who ruined her favourite cousin’s soul.

A hot shiver racked up her chest that felt like a sob and (Y/N) crushed it between her newly manicured nails. Johnny tugged her forward and she followed without resistance, not even thinking of the action. Unlike them, she would not be allowed to show her own betrayal so blatantly.

“What do you think about this?” Johnny’s voice snapped her back to reality, bringing her focus to his hands. He held a necklace littered with diamonds, sparkling so hard that she had to squint.

“Feels too much.” She spoke before she could think. When Rin’s mother shot her a look, (Y/N) bit her tongue.

“I think we should get something smaller.” Rin chimed in, tone clipped.

“No that isn’t what I meant.” (Y/N) tried to say, but Johnny frowned and she realised that her thoughtless words had done something to offend them all. So she just exhaled, “I think Rin’s opinion is what should matter, Johnny. She should pick.” She squeezed Johnny’s arm and gave the women the best smile she could manage.

(Y/N) took a step back, deciding that was the best course of action. This wasn’t her world anymore, she tried to remind herself. What these people thought about her didn’t matter anymore.

That is what she repeated to herself over and over as she found a chair to sit on, trying her best to stay out of anybody’s way. Away was where she had intended to stay till Johnny was done. After the rush of immediate injustice subsided, she wondered if she was being unfair. Rin was Johnny's cousin in name. In practice, she was the closest thing he had to a little sister. They grew up side by side and he had always adored her. When his mother died, Rin lost her aunt as well. They shared that loss.

Rin was family and she loved her brother. (Y/N) just wished that Johnny didn’t bring her here. No matter his intention, he must have known that this would be uncomfortable for everyone. (Y/N) took a deep breath, tearing her gaze away from the happy smiles the three shared. She reminded herself again that this wasn’t her world anymore.

In an effort to distract herself, (Y/N) scanned through the pieces of jewellery in the glass cases around her. She got up to look around, browsing to picture what the owner of each piece would be like. 

She saw a blue sapphire tiara that would belong to an oil heiress, a 25 carat topaz cocktail ring that looked like it was bought by a widow who inherited a barony, and a macau brooch that looked like it belonged to the mistress of a dictator. Each piece stood out with an inherent personality and she was almost lost in their worlds during her brief lingering study.

She stopped in front of a bracelet of ruby. The individual stoned were laid in so seamlessly that it looked like one dazzling sheet of the vibrant stone. Only on close inspection could you see the hexagon cut stones with an occasional deep green emerald and clear diamond tucked in between the sea of red. The bracelet looked like it was seeped in blood because of the deep hue of the rubies. (Y/N) concluded that this would belong to someone who had blood on their hands, the sparkling diamonds distracting from the ocean of red.

“Do you like it?” Johnny spoke and she jumped. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had been sneaked up upon. Jaehyun would be pissed if he saw how badly she had let her guard down today.

“Not at all.” She said, turning away from the display to turn to him.

“It’s exactly your taste.” Johnny countered, brows furrowing in that signature confusing way. Where one couldn’t tell if he was concerned or furious.

“I wasn’t aware that you knew my tastes better than me.” She dismissed his words, walking away to find more temporary lives to live between shiny stones.

“Of course I do. It is the buyers burden to pick the right gift.” He smirked.

“You don’t need to buy anything so don’t burden yourself.” She shrugged.

“It would look beautiful on you. It looks like it was made for you.” He insisted, “Let me get it. I want to see you wear it.” He raised his hand to call for an attendant. She grabbed his wrist immediately but the action did exactly what she feared. Along with the attendant, Rin and her mother turned to them.

“Could you please show me this set?” Johnny asked.

“Set? Johnny wh-” She tugged at his sleeve but he clicked his tongue. “Please, you’re here to buy your sister a wedding present. Don’t do this, it looks bad. What will they think, Johnny? They already hate me.” She whispered and hissed but he was undeterred.

“They don’t hate you. They just think they still have to pick sides.” He said with excruciating naivety. “Besides, it’s my money. I will do what I want with it.”

The attendant walked up to the case and she had no choice but to let it go.

“A beautiful choice, Sir. They say a high quality ruby is rarer than a diamond. Each stone is individually sourced from around the world to have the same pigeon’s blood hue.” He spoke to them while being loud enough to be heard by Rin, assuming she was the one he had to convince.

“Rubies don’t really suit Rin.” Her mother laughed from across the room. “Plus I don’t think red would be appropriate for the wedding.”

“It’s for (Y/N). Johnny said without turning to them. But (Y/N) was looking and she saw the women’s face. If she believed that Ruby wasn’t an appropriate choice before, she now wanted it nonetheless.

“Look.” Johnny whispered close to her ear, “It’s perfect.” He was loud enough for just them.

(Y/N) turned at his words, failing to catch her gasp in her throat. It truly was a beautiful set. The bracelet, as beautiful as it was, seemed to be a puzzle piece of a larger masterpiece. The necklace was a mofit of ruby flowers with only a few of them having equally splendid emerald leaves. The earrings too were beautifully set scarlet rubies with joints of diamonds. The whole set that diamonds on the joints but it did truly fill like an afterthought, a blank canvas to highlight the rubies the same way the emeralds conntrasted them. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen and she hated the fact. She hated that she wanted it despite herself.

“I love it.” Her voice wavered. It was the truth but she wanted him to think it was a lie. She wanted him to think she didn’t want it, but also hoped that he knew how much she appreciated it. Her head hurt.

“Wear it for me when we go home. Just this.” He had the gall to ask.

She decided it best to respond to him in fear of what she’d let slip. Hopefully, Johnny would get the hint.

She stayed by Johnny’s side till Rin had successfully picked her choice. They didn’t acknowledge each other but Johnny slipped his arm around her waist. If Johnny thought that a few stones would make her forget what he did today, he truly must have started believing that she was a figment of his imagination.

The necklace Rin had picked for herself was beautiful, a string of dazzling transparent diamonds with the occasional pink stone that made it look whimsical. But (Y/N) couldn’t help but notice how Rin’s mother kept eyeing the closed lid on the ruby set.

“If the box is that beautiful, the thing itself must be a treat.” She commented.

“It is.” Johnny grinned, opening the box to show it. 

Both of their lips pursed on seeing the set. (Y/N) bit her lip harshly, only feeling the storm inside her growing. Rin looked away with a shake of her head, turning back to her own gift with a gentle smile.

“Johnny you should come for my party! It’s in an hour anyway.” Rin beamed, clearly happy.

“Sure.” Johnny shrugged, “We would love to come.” 

All three women turned to Johnny but he looked like he did not notice. (Y/N) bit her tongue, hoping that his aunt would chime in again. But she did not.

“Sure.” Rin spoke after the excruciating silence, “See you there.”

“She doesn’t even want me there!” (Y/N) tried to explain, struggling to keep her voice levelled lest he accuse her of overreacting.

“If she didn’t, why would she ask you to come, (Y/N)?” Johnny spoke to his laptop, having it on his lap since they got back into the car with the excuse of pending work. In truth he was doing his best to avoid her justified fury.

“She didn’t! You made us a package deal.” She huffed, fist clenching in her lap, creasing her dress.

“We are a package deal.” Johnny looked up at her, frowning. “That’s what it means to be in a relationship, does it not?”

Her first clenched tighter, “That isn’t the point, but you don’t care so why bother?” She was so livid that a defeated laugh slipped past her lips. “Just go without me. No one will want me there, this is unnecessary.”

“They will suck it up then. You are my girlfriend, if someone has a problem with that then they will have to tell us both to leave.”

“I don’t want to go either, Johnny.” She took both his hands into hers, trying to make him look at her. She pleaded with him now, desperate to be released from this. “You will make this uncomfortable for everyone, including Rin.” She tried to use his precious cousin to make her point.

To her relief, it looked like he was considering it for a moment, grinding his teeth together as his eyes remained still on her.

“I’ve already said we’re going. We can’t cancel.” He stated plainly, taking his hands out of hers.

She laughed again, the same furious laugh of utter disbelief and even more betrayal. She was the fool to believe his claims of having changed.

Sins of the Past

The party was worse than she imagined. (Y/N) told herself she had tried. She had tried to smile and she had tried to ignore the looks and whispers. She even tried to ignore that her cousin, Isabella was there; ignore when she brought up specific moments that were an attempt to embarrass her.

She ignored it all because these people were Johnny’s family and friends and she owed him this much. So she tried to keep herself scarce and waited for the moment it would be appropriate to ask him to leave. She had also decided to just not bring today up after it was over. There was no point anyway.

This is how she had lulled herself in her own mind, monitoring the windows for the sunset.

“(Y/N) you haven’t said a word all evening.” A voice chimed up, one of Johnny’s friends from university.

(Y/N) turned, ready with her excuse of being tired.

“That’s her seventh glass, after all.” Her cousin chimed in, biting her lip like she somehow hadn’t been waiting all evening to bring it up.

(Y/N) felt her resolve snap, “I’ve just never been the type to invite myself to conversations I’m not a part of.” Only as she reached halfway through her sentence did sense catch on.

“And yet you’re here.” Her cousin scoffed, ignoring the shove the person beside her gave her.

She let the words crash over her, trying her best to brush it off. Yet, despite those words, it was a silence that rang louder. Johnny’s silence.

“At least I was invited out of love and not obligation.” She shot back, letting her day’s indignation ferment into the venom that dripped from her tongue.

“Ironic because that love is also an obligation. You would know if you had the capacity for either.”

“How would you know what love is?” She asked, genuinely curious.

Her cousin laughed, “Truly, I would never understand your idea of love. At least you got a pretty necklace out of it though.” She raised her glass to (Y/N), “My mother did always say that you were as oppurtunistic as your mother.”

“Don’t talk about my mother. You don’t want me to speak.” (Y/N)’s voice came out so low that she surprised herself. Her whole body shook from the impossible weight of her anger.

More silence. This time she turned to Johnny. A part of her hoped that if he wouldn’t defend her, then he would at least walk out. But Johnny only sat in the sofa across the room, eyes on the floor and furrowed in it’s signature unreadable way.

(Y/N) turned back to the bar she was sitting against, reaching over to pull the closest bottle towards her. “Eight is my lucky number.” She said loud enough for both Johnny and her cousin to hear. Once full to her heart’s content, she picked up her glass along with the leftover pieces of her dignity and held both tightly in her fist. Before she could tilt her glass to her lips, a hand landed on hers.

“No more, (Y/N).” Johnny warned, voice wavering with anger. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you angry about?” She asked, laughing again as she said the words out loud, finding the situation ridiculous. Still she realised that she said it louder than intended, probably sounding like the drunk she was painted to be.

“Just put the glass down, (Y/N).” He told her, despite having a death grip on her wrist that controlled all her movement.

“You’re causing a scene, Johnny.” She said the words that Johnny has used on her cyclically before.

“Get up.” He wasn’t asking. She listened because she didn’t want to drag on the public spectacle. As Johnny dragged her across the room, she couldn’t help glance at her cousin. Her eyes were on Johnny’s hand on her arm and (Y/N) bottled the small victory up.

“Let me go.” She said when she realised that he wasn’t walking towards the door, “I just want to go home.”

“First we need to apologise to Rin.” He spoke with his jaw set tight, like she was to be blamed. She couldn’t even tell if she was, not with everyone staring at her the way they did. She hated this place with every fibre of her being. 

Johnny stopped in front of Rin, letting out a trembling sigh that held back all of his anger. “I’m sorry for all of this.” Johnny said so sincerely that (Y/N) wanted to scream. He was apologising on her behalf and she had nothing to be apologetic for.

“I don’t understand why you try so hard with her?” Rin spoke like (Y/N) wasn’t standing right in front of her. “She ruined you from the inside out and you just fell for the same lies again. The only thing that’s changed since the last time is that she can’t fall back on her father. Or his money.” Rin hissed, the words dragging down (Y/N)’s back like nails on a chalkboard.

As calmly as she could, (Y/N) pulled her arm out of Johnny’s. She knew that leaving wasn’t going to help because Johnny would follow her and blame her for it. So instead she turned to the open balcony behind Rin, walking in and closing the door behind her.

She stood there, the wind whistling in her ear like it was wincing at her circumstance. She had given up trying to wipe her tears away because it only made her skin sting. She stood there and told herself that, if nothing else, she was at least sure she had made the right decision all those years ago.

"Come back inside." His order announced his arrival after a very long time. (Y/N) wiped her eyes, lowering her chin so her hair would hide her face. She didn't dignify the words with an answer, continuing to look out at the city below her.

"(Y/N)." He warned, "Everybody will wonder where you are."

"No they won't." Her jaw slid over the other, teeth grinding down. "They know why I am not inside. So just go back to your party, Johnny. Otherwise they'll wonder where you are."

He sighed, a sound of rustling following that was clearly him running his hands through his hair. "Look I'm sure she didn't mean to sound so–"

"Hostile?" She turned, tongue and gaze both sharp as a knife. "What else did she intend to sound like when she called me an opportunistic slut? A fucking gold digger?"

"She didn't say that." He put his hands into his pockets.

(Y/N) gave him an incredulous face, his dismissal stinging more than anything anybody inside was capable of.

"Go inside, John. I don't want to fight with you right now. They'll blame me for your bad mood."

"God damn it!" Johnny kicked something, the sound of shattering following after. She turned with wide eyes to see a flower pot lying in pieces on the floor on a pile of soil. "I just wanted one good day. Just a relaxed day where I can spend time with what remains of my family and the woman I love. Why are you doing this?"

"I am not." She looked up at him, words interrupted by a belligerent breath. "What have I done?" She asked, confused and hurt. "My cousin said so many things. I just listened. You said nothing in my defense and I still just stood there, I took it all. Even when Rin said those things. I just stood there. What else do you want me to do?"

"Just come inside."

"I don't want to! Why do I have to go back? So they can whisper as I walk by again? So they can pat themselves on the back after they confirm that I have no shame? No sense of self respect?” She took a step closer as Johnny stumbled back, “You told me to come back to this city with you. You promised me that it would just be the award. You broke that promise. Then you told me to help you buy something for your cousin I agreed. You didn't tell me they would be there too. You sabotaged me and I stayed silent. You said yes to this and I did not protest. Your cousin said whatever she wished. You did not defend me and I still did not so much as make a sound. You failed me and you didn’t bother protecting me, the women you love. What more do you want from me?” She questioned, tears blurring her vision. 

She furiously wiped at her face, the back of her hand dragging the skin till her face felt raw again.

“You’re hurting yourself.” He said gently. It grated her more than anything so far. What good was his concern now?

"Why didn't you defend me?" She cut him off. "You keep talking about what this means to you." She pointed between them. "So what? You will drag down heaven to earth for me but you can't stand up for me?" She pointed out what he said to her.

Johnny furrowed his brows, "What was I supposed to say?"

"You were supposed to tell her to shut up! You were supposed to remind her that I am the person who you claim to love. You were supposed to say that you wanted me back. The least you could have done was said you wanted me here, Johnny. You should have said something.” She groaned, turning away from him. The reiteration of the betrayal brought a fresh assault of tears. She felt so weak and vulnerable begging in front of him. And Johnny looked bemused.

"So what?” Johnny said calmly,” You don't want to be together?" 

“Don't twist my words.” She warned him.

"Twist?" Johnny's brows creased, "It's what you just said!" He shoved his hand in the space between them, raising his voice.

"You’re shouting. Don't start a fight." She stepped back from him, feeling like she was being cornered into this confrontation.

"I'm not the one trying to start a fight." He countered.

"All I did was step out of a room where I am not wanted. To let out the tears I could not inside. I didn’t leave because I know you want to meet your friends and family, so I am here and I just want to be left along."

"You left because it shows everyone inside how wrapped around your finger I am. Because you know I would follow you in here immediately." Johnny crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at her over his nose.

"Excuse me?” She said so loudly that a pigeon on the balcony across rushed to take flight. "First your cousin assumes she knows what I'm thinking, now you do the same. Does manipulation run in the family?"

"I don't understand how you can be so mad when she's right.” Johnny’s voice turned cold, his eyes cruel, “They're all justified, you know? You did do the things she said. You did ruin me from inside out."

"Then why are we here?" She screamed, her resolve slipping. She grabbed it before it disappeared completely, bringing her voice back down. "If your family are still angry about what happened, if you’re angry, then what are we doing? And before you say anything." She raised her hand to stop him from interrupting. "You are allowed to be as angry as you want. I hurt you so much and I understand that you can’t just forget that. I deserve your anger. What I don’t deserve is you treating me like this. And you don’t deserve to be with someone who makes you so miserable. If you're this angry then you simply cannot love me.”

"Now you're the one reading my mind." He spoke, immediately recoiling into his indignation.

“Don’t deflect!” She snapped. “You're lying to yourself if you think you do. Because that amount of hostility borders on disgust. You hate me so much that you will stand aside while someone insults me like that. For something you did, Johnny!" Her eyes welled up again and she had to turn away.

(Y/N) hated that after a certain threshold, her anger always gave way to tears. She hated it because, on more than one occasion, Johnny had accused her of using her tears to win arguments. She hated the accusation because she had never intended to win any arguments with him, she knew it was impossible. All she wanted was to explain her side of it.

“What did I do?” Johnny frowned, taking a step closer to invade her personal space.

“Why didn’t you tell them that you got the jewllery yourself? Did I ask you for it? Why didn’t you tell them that I told you I didn’t want it? Why didn’t you tell them what you told me?” She shoved him away, discomfitted by being this close to his overbearing presence. Johnny had the dreadful habit of towering close to her during arguments.

After a long moment of saying nothing, of just staring her down, Johnny sighed. “I just don’t want us to fight.” He came closer to her in an attempt to touch her.

His words made her see red in a way that felt dangerous. She shoved him again, harder than she expected. He must not have expected it either, because surprise filled his eyes as he lost his balance. There was an unmistakable sound of flower pots shattering, but (Y/N) was already shoving the balcony door open. She froze, turning to look back at him.

"Are you hurt?" She stepped towards him. But Johnny stood up immediately and walked around her, talking quick strides towards the door without once looking back.

She burned from head to toe, a mix of anger and mortification. He left before her, leaving her to walk out by herself. With a hesitant gait, she walked across the now crowded foyer. They all looked away, pretending they hadn’t witnessed the quarrel from the other side of the glass doors. But the side glances confirmed her suspicions. They blamed her. They saw her outburst, and saw her push him to the ground. What they didn’t hear was the actual words. But she doubted that would make a difference.

[morgsdrew]

i’m not tellin’ con and vice ‘bout the worst decision ive ever made in my life

( and not tellin’ them might be the second worst decision i’ve ever done but that’s a problem for future morgs )

yall better shut the fuck up ‘bout it, ‘kay ???