#when the fic wasn't just hating every character the author didn't like

[philtatosbuck]

to that one person who wrote a chapter in the longest mary/gary sue ass fic i have ever read about how marcel and damon were commiserating over both being in wars and damon outright told marcel he was a confederate and marcel was just like “i get it”. you are going to hell

[allforhee]

— 𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐒! (ONESHOT) | LEE HEESEUNG

୨୧ pairing — secretary-general!lee heeseung x delegate!fem!reader

synopsis: decelis high's academic weapon, future valedictorian, model un prodigy especially in the crisis council, and top-notch secretary-general of the mun club, lee heeseung has it all. from earning constant "best delegate-s" left and right, no one dared to go against his stances in any debate. until a student like you transfers into decelis high. as a soon graduating senior, you were a newbie to press. but with your endless love for writing, you'd managed to steal the hearts of your peers. it was your first mun, and you didn't expect much. but when heeseung finds out about an article you've wrote about his arrogant performance in a recent committee session, he is set to strike you down.

୨୧ genre — kinda angsty but with happy ending, high school au, secgen/crisis delegate!heeseung x press delegate!reader, academic rivals to lovers, dumbasses in denial, a brief moment of rivals in public but lovers in secret, one sided rivalry

୨୧ warnings — a lot of model un terms (hope you guys can understand), cursing, hurt no comfort, heeseung highkey hates reader, reader is a bit feisty and could care less but she lowkey has parental issues, featuring all the other enhypen members, aespa's winter aka minjeong, txt's yeonjun and beomgyu, stray kids’ i.n, gidle's shuhua, and ive's wonyoung, one bed trope, forced proximity

୨୧ word count — 13.3k (not proofread, but will slowly edit/make changes to tiny minor mistakes found)

୨୧ author's note — dear readers, i'm back from a long overdue hiatus with a new layout and theme! this fic is long as HELL i didn't expect it to reach this long omg. i also changed up a couple details so it will be quite different from the teaser! i’m so sorry for the long overdue wait, senior year of high school has been so hectic, and i’ve been finally able to finish this so enjoy :) omg holy shit y’all are finally reading my full length fic i’ve been harboring since what? february?

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 had it all.

the walls of his room were littered with delegate lanyards from conferences across the globe, "best delegate" certificates framed all over his house (and a couple crumpled up inside his desk to fit the space), and a collection of trophies stood in every nook and cranny.

no one at decelis high dared to go against his stance. whenever it was, whether it was a moderated caucus or unmoderated, he'd always have his country or character's placard raised high, ready to speak, or leading whatever bloc was being formed.

there was no doubt that no one had ever beat him. it was no doubt that he was decelis high's mun club's secretary-general, and those who chose to go against him either got crushed in fear or knew when to step back.

even with his "best delegate" status, he wouldn't have gone far without his best mates, park jongseong, sim jaeyun, and park sunghoon.

park jongseong or jay, most known for his cold stares in the debate room, ready to make a delegate tremble, would always chair crisis. he was decelis high's deputy secretary-general alongside heeseung. and although being heeseung's best mate, he never favored him when it came to awarding. it's just that he was naturally talented.

sim jaeyun, known for his popular slogan around the school; "jake it till you make it!", was the strongest when it came to knowing what a country or character believed in. his research skills were like a pirate on the hunt for lost treasure, he had all the facts, the data, and the proof to back up any stance. whatever heeseung needed to know, jake already had his back.

and park sunghoon. even though he was the quiet one of the bunch, his position papers never ceased to appeal to any chair. even if he wasn't as strong in speaking out during committee sessions, his fingers were his weapon. the guys would always ask him why'd he chair press and not join in the heat with them, he'd always answer with "my words are stronger than my actions." where jay would always respond with "isn't that the other way around bud?"

the four were unstoppable when it came to model un. lee heeseung was unstoppable. he was. until you came along.

you were quiet at first. everyone just saw you as the new girl who transferred for her senior year. nobody cared. until decelis high's annual mun conference, which happened to take place a couple weeks after the first day of school.

students from all over the country gathered at decelis high once a year to join in on the fun. various councils were presented at decelis mun, from heeseung's favorite council, crisis, and multiple others like unhrc, who, unsc, disec, unicef, and your favorite, press.

without a doubt, you registered yourself for press, opting that you didn't have the guts to join any other council. you feared you'd tremble listening to another delegate question your stances and ideologies.

your parents would always encourage your writing. as a child, you loved to write little imaginary stories about your life as a princess. writing stories about the love you've seen in your parents, you were set to write a book. but when your mom passed away a few weeks before your senior year of high school, and your dad constantly traveling for work, you had resorted yourself to watching the news all summer long, spiking your interest in being a journalist, where all you had to do was report whatever was going on, spit out what had to be said, and done. you didn't need to think long and hard on what your character was supposed to do next to support the storyline, no opinions, no biases.

as you stepped into your assigned council's room, you felt a gush of wind. the nervousness had gotten to you more, seeing all the socially bright journalists with their laptops open and chatting amongst each other happily.

"hi! you're a new face! oh and you're cnn! me and you will be best buddies! bbc here!" a girl squeals, she has a bright smile and a oh-so friendly demeanor. no doubt a popular trait amongst the press council.

"minjeong! don't scare her off. we're so sorry, she sometimes comes off a bit too much to new people. i'm wonyoung, the co-chair for press." she introduces herself.

"oh, hello. i'm y/n. i just transferred to decelis this year. it's my first time at press." you smile. you lost all your socialite cheerfulness over the summer, but meeting minjeong and wonyoung felt like you've been recharged. "oh and i'm the journalist for cnn?"

the girls take a glance at your nametag, examining you, before wonyoung cuts, "first time? don't worry sweetheart, we'll tell you all about it! right hoonie?"

a tall figure walks up to the three of you, no doubt a intimidating face. "y/n right? i'm sunghoon, the chair for press." he asks.

"yes yes this is her! oh we've got to tell her all about press! first timer alert!" wonyoung beams, before entangling her hand with sunghoon's. there was no doubt that the two were a couple.

"ugh, okay you two cut it off! we're journalists, we gotta be professional!" minjeong argues, playfully slapping wonyoung's arm, causing her to let go of sunghoon's.

at first, you had no idea what you were stepping into. but when chair sunghoon welcomed you to press with his icy-blue eyes and quiet demeanor, the other journalists supporting each other when it came to writing their articles, you felt right at home.

it didn't feel like it, but two days of endless debates went on, countries arguing left and right, and articles written on the current hot topic. the tension was surely rising, and your fingers were tired.

you were glad it was all over.

at every post-conference social, before awards were handed out, the articles the journalists from press wrote would be released to the conference for the other delegates to read. besides their usual gossip box, the articles the press wrote were always the fuel to the fire.

one article stuck up to heeseung. it read; "secretary-general heeseung's love for crisis interferes chair jongseong's chairing process, now who's really chairing crisis?"

heeseung swore to himself that he's never seen a girl like you. so quiet yet so powerful in her writing. hearing rumors that you've only just recently transferred to decelis high. even sunghoon himself was surprised to meet a talented journalist like you, a first-timer at press.

"it was her first time?" heeseung protested, "i mean- she's so quiet and reserved, if she had been doing press for years, i wouldn't be surprised. but this is her first time?!"

"what do you mean she's quiet? look at hoon, he never says a word in comses, but look at him chairing press. and i would never mind you tagging along in crisis, you always give out good insights." jay interrupts his thoughts.

heeseung complains, "i understand that, but her innocent face says nothing to what she wrote about me!"

"her articles were critical. they were precise and to the point. there was never a single weak spot in her articles. i think she's gonna make a run for my position." sunghoon defends.

"it's just one article hee, it won't affect your entire track record anyways." jake compliments, giving him a pat on the back.

heeseung believed what jake said was true. he did have an outstanding track record. "best delegate"s here and there, one silly little article wouldn't ruin his entire reputation.

as the clock strikes seven, social night was slowly coming to a close. decelis high's third annual mun was coming to an end. all that was left was to hand out the awards.

heeseung made his secretary-general speech as usual, a couple thank you-s here and there, before he handed it over to the chairs to announce the awards.

as he was walking down the stage, he felt a couple stares from mostly the press council linger. fixing his tie, he shook it off before taking a seat in the front row.

awards were handed, from best position papers, verbal commendations, honorable mentions, most outstanding delegates, and of course, best delegates.

the press council was saved for last. sunghoon asked heeseung if he could be given more time to rethink his options for the awards, and as his best mate, he let him. in reality, sunghoon didn't need time to rethink his options. he and wonyoung knew who was going to win best journalist. sunghoon just wanted to save the best for last.

when heeseung hears sunghoon's announcement for best journalist, it clicks.

"and the press council's best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

cheers could be heard from across the conference room. minjeong practically jumping on you when they heard your name mentioned. you rushed to the stage with a red face and a still shocked reaction, receiving the certificate along with the medal. wonyoung gave you the biggest bear hug known to man, whilst sunghoon gave you a firm handshake.

you felt the cameras flashing at you, taking pictures from what felt like every single angle. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was glaring at you from the front row.

best journalist. best journalist? his mind was running all over the place. how could he? how could sunghoon, his best friend, let such a writer like you, who wrote a devious article about him, win best delegate?

a single glance at the other delegates of the press council only angered him more. amongst them were laughs and snickers. he swore he heard a journalist say; "looks like mister secgen is upseeet!" but decelis mun only happened once a year. he wouldn't have the need to care about you every other day.

or so he thought.

heeseung felt like you were everywhere. at every lunch break, you were always sitting across his and the boys' table, laughing at nonsense with yunjin and wonyoung. during free periods, you'd be at the library, hunched over your laptop or head deep in a book. and at mun club, you just had to be there.

he hated that you were gifted like him. he hated that his friends favored you. he hated that sunghoon would always send you to their rival school's muns to participate in their press councils. he hated that you always won. he hated that you were clouding his mind every single day.

you hadn't but uttered a single "thank you," to lee heeseung. as decelis high's secretary-general, you didn't think he'd care about you. you were just a writer. you had no strength in the debate field, no reason for lee heeseung to care. but why was he being so cold?

it started when you applied for the harvard model congress. you were ecstatic to find out you'd be attending the conference. obviously, you told minjeong and wonyoung all about it. even striking up small talk with sunghoon.

"that's amazing y/n. i mean, harvard model congress? that's big!" his tooth-rotting smile bringing a cheerful mood.

"you went from winning best journalist in schools across the state to varsity level in just a few months!" minjeong squeals, as she hugs you. you were really lucky to have such caring best friends.

laughing along in the mun club room, you could feel heeseung's glare from his desk. headphones on and focused onto his laptop screen, you felt a strange feeling resonating off of him.

heeseung was fuming. the entire club applied for harvard model congress. heeseung got in. his mates did. and of course, you also did.

it was supposed to be a three day long weekend with his mates full of debate, laughter, awards, and getting drunk on social nights. but no. you and your friends would be there too.

heeseung didn't understand why everyone was so trusting of you so easily.

even jay, was friendly with you. "well y/n, i think you're going to make a run for hee's job!"

wonyoung rolls her eyes at jay. "he should be scared. you've rose up through the ranks like jake's receeding hairline."

"hey! my hair is perfectly fine, thank you!" jake cuts, huffing at the ridiculous comment about his hair.

"yo hee! we gotta work out the letter to the school so we can get a few days off. come over here, you look like you're burning holes into your laptop!" jay chuckles, receiving a smack on the arm from jake.

a quick but surprising slam! from heeseung's laptop emitted a low echo throughout the room. followed by a ruffling of him throwing his decelis almameter over his shoulder, and another loud slam! of the mun club room's door. lee heeseung just stormed out.

"oof, what's got into him?" minjeong asks, her face contorting into an anxious look.

"i don't fucking know, he's been at it since decelis' annual mun. throwing temper tantrums left and right." jay sighs, concerned for his best friend.

"well i guess that temper is living up to my article." you suggest, letting out a huff and a subtle eyeroll.

sunghoon takes a deep breath before realization hits. "now that i think of it, he's been at it since you've joined our core team." while he points at you.

"what does that have to do with me? i didn't do shit. all i do is sit, join muns, write, and win awards for us. would he rather i'd be getting verbal commendations instead?" you sigh. you've done nothing but bring pride to decelis high's reputation.

wonyoung laughs, patting you on the back. "it's not about winning verbcom or bestdel, it's about heeseung finally finding his match."

"exactly! he's gone on and on about constantly winning at every mun. he's always complained about needing more of a challenge. and no shit he's been jealous of your achievements." minjeong pipes in.

"that's ridiculous. i don't understand crisis as much as he does, i'm just a journalist on the press council! he's basically just being an ass to me, that's all." you confessed, you and heeseung were basically on different levels. he was secgen and lover of crisis councils, whilst you were just one of the head journalists and co-editors of the press division.

"maybe he likes you? i don't know!" jake squeals, lifting his shoulders in question. jay and sunghoon gives him a slap on the shoulder each, a glaring stare between the three.

"no no, lee heeseung is a cold-hearted son of a bitch with an ego to feed every other day, there's no way he can feel shit." minjeong debates, a hint of anger in her voice.

"woah girl, what's got you mad? i get you two grew up together but that's a lot to say about heeseung." wonyoung asks her.

"i know it's a long story, but y/n deserves to know. right?" minjeong asks, waiting for you to nod to continue. "every single day of my life, i was my parents' star girl. i love my parents for supporting me. but ever since heeseung moved in next door, i was demoted from best girl in the neighborhood to second best to heeseung. ever since we were eight, heeseung didn't like to lose. to a boy he'd be a good sport. but when he lost to me in a mere storytelling competition, he'd throw a tantrum. that's heeseung to me. he's nothing but an egotistical ass who has to win everything."

you sigh, hearing minjeong’s words. "and you know what y/n?" she continues, "he's never lost it since we were 13. and you, y/n, have officially made him lose his mind. again."

this year's harvard model congress was held at seoul national university, the dream university of many korean students. the seven of you stayed at a hotel nearby, settling in.

sunghoon picks up the keycards at the check-in counter, "okay so there's three rooms in total, the girls are sharing, me and jake are in one room, which leaves heeseung and jay—"

"i'm sorry sir," the hotel staff interrupts him, "but the rooms are already divided by the hotel and cannot be changed. it says here, room 745 is for miss kim and miss yang, room 746 is for mister park, mister sim, and the other mister park— mister jongseong, and room 777 is for—"

"great. thank you. alright, let's settle in and get ready for opening night." heeseung sighs, grabbing his suitcase and your shared room's keycards before heading to the elevators. you gave the rest of the group a shaky smile before following heeseung.

the moment you two entered the lift, and as heeseung tapped the keycard and pressing the button for the seventh floor, you could feel the tension.

as the lift begins to move upwards, heeseung lets out a sigh. "look, l/n. we're sharing a room by casuality, so don't make it a big deal."

you huff shakily, "a big deal? you're the one who's been avoiding me all year! i barely disturb you and all i do is win awards for decelis. what else do you want from me?" your voice slowly getting angrier.

as heeseung opens his mouth to answer, the lift comes to a halt as its doors open, signaling that they've reached the seventh floor.

heeseung holds the lift doors open, so you can exit it with ease. you were surprised with this gesture. coming from him who could care less about your presence, you were baffled.

as you both reach at your hotel room, heeseung gave you one of the three keycards given before tapping his at the hotel room's door.

and as if your romance stories came to life, you spotted an oh-so familiar trope sitting in the middle of your hotel room. there was only one king-sized bed.

"shut the front door." you sighed, looking at the clear situation in front of you.

heeseung entered behind you, "i clearly have, what are you talking abou—"

"no dumbass, it was a metaphor. i'm talking about this." you exclaimed, pointing your finger at the bed.

"great. i'll call up room service and get this sorted—"

"no it's fine, it'll be too much of a hassle and social night is in two hours. besides, we're civil adults, and we're here for only two nights. we can bear 72 hours living through this stupid one bed trope."

"fine. just so you know i'm taking the left side."

heeseung dropped his bag near his side, as he was trying his best to keep his composure. sharing a room with you was bad enough (that's what he keeps telling himself), but a bed as well? he'd rather win verbal commendation than share a bed with you.

you were unpacking your necessities before you decided to break the ice. "heeseung just so you know—"

but before you could finish, heeseung was already out the door. before the door closed, you could hear a mere; "i'll go down for social night. you do you." and a click! of the door.

you scanned the room that was once filled with such tension, spotting your room keycard on the bedside table.

you took off your sweater and switched to something a bit classier for social night, changing to a blood red dress you had packed to match harvard's colors. minjeong and wonyoung had helped you choose it a couple days prior, the conversation reappearing in your mind.

"harvard's got nothing on you with that dress! watch out best journalist!" minjeong hypes you up as you're trying it on in the changing room.

"are you sure it's not a bit too much?" you questioned, feeling insecure in the dress.

"too much? my guess is heeseung would drop dead seeing you in that dress. after all, he is in love with you." wonyoung giggles, which earns her a slap on her arm from winter.

"just own it y/n. maybe layer it with a leather jacket if you get cold?" minjeong suggests. you look at yourself in the mirror once more. maybe this would be the turning point between you and heeseung's rivalry. maybe he'd look at you and decide that he no longer hated you and instead loved y— no. enough of those thoughts.

as you touched up your makeup from earlier this morning, you headed out to find wonyoung and minjeong waiting at the lobby.

"there you are— oh that dress looks, damn!" minjeong exclaims, covering her mouth with her hand to hide the utter shock.

"i just know heeseung's going to gape at that dre—" before wonyoung could finish her sentence, she earns a smack on her arm from minjeong. "ow minie! i don't want my arm to be black and blue at social night! which starts in... thirty minutes. we should get to campus and fill in our registrations so we're set."

opening night was a blast. harvard model congress knew how to throw a goddamn banger of a opening night.

there were so many things to see. a karaoke booth, a photobooth station, a merch station, even a snack booth filled to the brim with various snacks and drinks.

after receiving your lanyards and a couple papers where you'd find your assigned councils for the next day, you, wonyoung, and minjeong, were set to let lose one last time before you were head deep into your laptops, writing articles for the next three days.

entering the room littered with decorations and other delegates, you and the girls entered the ballroom hand in hand, in awe with the decor.

wonyoung spotted the boys immediately, already saving a table for the seven of you. the three of you walked to the table, which had name plates for all your names. wonyoung next to sunghoon, jay next to jake, minjeong on your right next to you, and heeseung on your left.

sitting at the assigned seats and listening to the opening remarks by harvard model congress' secretary-general, the food was served and you all dug in.

although this was only the first of two social nights, you and the girls had to make the best of it. from abusing the “free photobooths!” booth, and filling the room with echoes of musical ballads, your first night at harvard model congress was deemed memorable.

before you knew it, you were dragged to the back of the room, as wonyoung pulled out a small paper bag—which turns out to hold a couple bottles of liquor, you grabbed your glasses and started pouring.

you could see out of the corner of your eye—the girls downing shots of tequila (in secret, cause you didn't want to get caught), and the guys coming along to take a shot or two. but heeseung looked, tense.

jake slapped him on the back, giggling, “come on man, loosen up a bit! mun isn’t all about the awards and the roles, it’s about the memories!”

“and the friends we make along the way, am i right?” jay chimed in, with a teasing tone.

before you knew it, heeseung grabbed an entire bottle and downed what was equivalent to maybe 4 shots, wonyoung squealed, arguing the fact that it was a very expensive bottle of liquor.

“dude! that’s from my dad’s cabinet, it’s at least 500.000 won!” she argued, grabbing the bottle out of his hands.

as you tried to ignore his gaze, minjeong gave you your first shot—which you downed immediately, but it only made you feel like heeseung’s gaze was burning holes into you more.

heeseung sighed, “give me another one.” holding his hand out for someone to pour him a shot. “come on, i don’t got all day.” before sunghoon poured him another shot—which he downed immediately.

you hated the feeling of his stare. it felt, uncomfortable, but you liked it? the more he stared, the more you downed more shots. before you knew it, opening night came to a close, and you were stumbling your way down the hallway with wonyoung and minjeong, before finally finding your room. and in your drunken state, you passed out.

burning pain. your eyes couldn’t handle the bright light emitting from what seemed to be all around you. as you open your eyes, head spinning, you flopped back down onto your bed, exhausted, and with the hotel room ac, you felt frozen.

but as you get comfortable onto the bed once more, you feel a sense of warmth engulf your body. it felt welcoming. comfortable. maybe a bit too comfortable for your sake. but the warmth was soothing. it was, moving?

you shot back out of the bed, trying to rub your eyes to focus back onto the warmth, but that warmth pulled you back into its embrace. as if it needed you to survive.

as you try to recollect the events of last night, your usual 7am alarm rung. what a great way to ruin the moment.

a groan echoed from that warmth you once clung to, a familiar sound, a familiar… voice?

“l/n, what time is it?” it asked.

fuck.

"chill y/n, you'll be fine." you whisper to yourself, walking to your assigned council's room. from the rest of the journalists in your gang, you had been assigned to report on different councils. while wonyoung and winter were assigned to report on the ASEAN council, sunghoon to report on the UNHRC council, you were unfortunately assigned to the crisis council. just to your luck. your mind was still stuck in what happened this morning. you met your chairs, shuhua and beomgyu, role call was held, and your first committee session began.

while you were typing away a starting paragraph for an article, a bright face comes to greet you. "oh hello, l/n y/n right? i'm jungwon, the journalist for KBS! i sit right next to you in our council room."

"oh hello! i'm y/n, reporting for the new york times, it's nice to meet you." you smile, offering a hand out for him to shake, which he accepts.

"so, you got assigned to crisis too huh?" jungwon asks as you nod, "honestly it's one of the worse councils to report on because everything is moving... too fast." he sighs.

"i don't mind the speed, it gives me inspiration to write. but everyone has their capacities right?" you try to reason, whilst jungwon gives an agreeing nod.

not long after some small talk before you could enter crisis' council room, another boy tags along. his bright smile clearly infectious as you and jungwon couldn't help but smile at his bright appearance.

"annyeong! nice to meet you i'm sunoo!" he smiles, his blonde hair reflecting the lights in the room.

you shake his hand as a boy with blonde hair and black streaks tags along behind him before slapping the blonde’s arm, "i'm nishimura riki, you can call me riki. can’t believe i flew all the way from tokyo for this."

“yah! your writing is fine riki, your good shots will steal the show.” sunoo assures him, before looking back at you, and smiling.

riki sighs, before turning on his camera “i wanna get the redhead over there, heard he’s super good at mun or something..”

you blink as you realize riki was talking about none other than—heeseung.

"oh him? yeah he's my secgen." you tell him, the sentence floating out of your mouth. jungwon and sunoo turn to you with gaping mouths.

"wait- what? he's YOUR secgen? THE lee heeseung?" jungwon exclaims.

you furrow your eyebrows, "um, yeah? what's the big deal about him?"

sunoo's face lights up, as he prepares his words. "girl, he's the most highest ranking student in the high school mun circuit! his countless awards and times he's chaired makes him a legend. he's a literal model un weapon, even delegates with the veto powers are scared of him." he explains.

as you open your mouth to respond to his comment about heeseung, one of the chairs of the crisis council exits the room to greet you.

"ah hello journalists, you're here. i'm yeonjun, the head chair for crisis. we currently have unmod going on right now so you're just in time. we'll give you guys a couple opportunities to interview the delegates, but please be mindful." he explains.

you and the three boys smile back at him, before he opens the council room door and lets you in.

"delegates! i'd like to introduce to you all the journalists from the international press institute council, who will be observing our committee session. we have yang jungwon from KBS, kim sunoo from associated press, nishimura riki from NHK, and y/n l/n from the new york times. please treat them with the upmost respect.

a couple delegates say their greetings, and even explaining the current debate going on, as the four of you smile back at them. the crisis council was a popular council, and you can tell that from the amount of delegates in the room.

as you return your laptop back into your messenger bag and pulling out a notepad, a pen, and some sticky notes, you look back up only to lock eyes with heeseung. his gaze was deadly. you give him a slight smile, which he responds with an eyeroll.

the only thing you hated about being a journalist was the interviews. you needed to research, but having to interact with people you don't know? you'd rather kill yourself. it just happened that heeseung's stance was interesting enough for you to pass a post-it note to him, which he threw away.

so you were surprised to see him walk towards you during break, as you had thought he had rejected your interview offer.

"l/n, you wanted to interview me?" he'd asked you, no bad tone in his voice.

you looked at him surprised, kinda shocked, "umm, yeah? are you okay with that."

"i'm good. just, make it quick."

you open your notes to find your question you wanted to ask him, "um, do you mind if i record?" you asked, which he nodded. "okay, so as the delegate of colombia, what steps would you take to face the ongoing drug trade happening in your country? as a journalist, we have not seen you speak up much lately, so i'd like to know your thoughts."

"um, thank you for the interesting question, well i think—"

it was unlike him to treat you like this. unlikely for him to keep his cool. as you try to remember the words he was saying as you hold out your phone to record him, nothing was catching on. it was as if words went in one ear and out the other. 

he was so professional. the way he walks, and the way he talks—the way his lips move when he talks, the way he explains his stance—the way he’s saying the words—the way his lips move to pronounce it, oh and the way he-

“l/n? are you done? i’m wasting my precious break time here.” heeseung asks you, breaking you out of that trance.

you compose yourself, hitting the stop button on the voice recorder app, “oh yeah, sorry, i was thinking of another question to ask you—got carried away…”

heeseung rolls his eyes at you, before thanking you and scurrying away.

what had gotten into you? you’ve never seen heeseung in that way before. he’s always been just a secretary-general to you. who also happens to hate you. you think. 

but as the unmoderated caucus comes to a close, you return back to your council room, ready to write an article on heeseung’s stance. after all, you still had a day’s left worth of committee sessions, as well as a press conference held at the crisis council. 

the press council room was chiming with the clicks and clacks of keyboards, journalists writing articles left and right. you were in the middle of writing once again another filler article, as you had no idea what to write for your mandatory article. as you look through your gallery, observing pictures you took earlier for your articles, you can't help but notice heeseung in his element.

as you're typing a possible title for your mandatory article, you hear from beside you, "hey, what's going on with you and heeseung?" sunoo asks, as you turn to him in shock, as you were in the middle of writing an article.

you laughed nervously, "what? nothing's going on between us. he practically hates me." you sigh.

jungwon pulls his chair over to you, placing his laptop on your table in the process, "i don't think so. not from what i saw last night."

you gasped at what he said, "and what i saw this morning! i could practically feel the tension emitting off the two of you as you were interviewing him. i've never seen a man so intrigued before." riki chimes in.

"this morning? nothing happened, i was interviewing him on his stances and whatsoever for a possible article! that's all to it!" you defend yourself, trying to get back into your article.

"y/nie, sweetie, i've seen way too many kdramas to tell that the way he's looking at you, is a look of love~" sunoo teases, smiling as if he knew something more.

jungwon and riki laughes at your expression, which seemed to resemble a disgusting look, but underneath that, you felt a sting in your heart. not a bad sting, a good sting.

"but hey you two seemed pretty cozy last night, i wonder what that was for?" jungwon asked.

riki gasps, "hey i took a picture! wait let me find it..." as he pulled out his camera, going through the camera roll. "here! you guys were dancing together a lot, and he basically was carrying you back to your room. what, did you guys get drunk or something?"

you choked on your water, as the events of last night start piecing together. "i remember taking a couple shots, he did too, but all i remember after that is falling asleep on my bed... i assumed my friends helped me to get back but now that i think of it... they were pretty drunk too."

taking another closer look at the pictures riki happened to capture, you saw two beaming smiles, and from the looks of it, it looked like you two were having fun. you've never seen him smile this much, let alone around you. the other picture resembled like a married couple. it was as if heeseung was trying to pick you up, but by the looks of your drunken states, it wasn't really working.

"wouldn't it be really funny if you guys accidentally fucked or something? that would explain the tension!" jungwon jokes.

you shake your head, before putting your face in your hands, "no way, not in a million years. our tension is, well, our tension! it's what happens normally!" you try to defend.

"no you're right won, they totally fucked. i mean the floor you guys are on? most of the rooms have king or queen sized beds. what would you guys be doing other than that? snuggling into each other till the sunrise?" riki assumes, scoffing afterwards.

your eyes widened in shock, as if jungwon cut your brain opened and took out the events of what happened this morning. you put your head in your hands once more before beginning to cry.

riki saw your reaction, "hey i didn't mean it that way! i mean it's- um... great? if you fucked? but if not then that's like, totally okay! i mean sex isn't for everyone—"

sunoo cut him off, shooing him away, "stop making it worse, ki-yah! y/nie? will you tell us what happened?"

you sniffed, not knowing why you suddenly burst into tears, maybe it was the frustration? you grabbed a tissue to compose yourself, "i don't know... all i remember is i woke up this morning, in his arms, and i just jumped out and got ready. we didn't even talk about it. all of a sudden he's back to his old self and he's being mean to me again."

you take a deep breath, sunoo rubbing you on the back, trying to calm you down. "he's been like this ever since i transferred. i was just the new girl who was a press prodigy, that's what they called me back at decelis, and i don't know, he's hated me every since. no reason whatsoever. i've tried to win his attention by winning muns and stuff but, it doesn't matter. he looks at me as if i disappoint him."

jungwon and riki both comfort you as well, before jungwon has a strike of realization. "you know, it's not that i wanna stir up delusion in your mind, but it's quite common for guys to hate someone because they like them. what if he has a crush on you?"

riki realizes as well, "yeah what if? what if all this time he's been trying so hard to hate you because he actually likes you?"

hearing the words likes you come out of their mouths makes you shudder in fear. no way he likes you. right?

before you knew it, your chair returns to announce that press conferences are due to start soon. and up first? was the crisis council.

stepping foot into the crisis room, with the information in mind, you start to notice the tiny little characteristics that match with the fact. the fact that the lee heeseung might as well have a crush on you. as you, sunoo, and two other journalists were guided to the front of the room, your chair explaining to the crisis delegates how the press conference was going to work, before giving the floor to the journalists.

you keep your head hung, distracting yourself by re-reading the questions you’ve written on your notepad, peeking through your hair, trying to take a glimpse of heeseung.

heeseung was in his element as always, head deep in his laptop, a couple volunteers passing by to give him a post-it note, filled with scribbles of other delegates wishing to be on his side. but as per usual, his critical self crumples the notes and puts it aside to his pile of other crumpled notes.

sunoo, on your left, nudges you in the arm, trying to snap you out of it. the moment you lift your head to look at the delegates and compose yourself, you catch heeseung looking at you.

with your bloodshot eyes, your usual smile fading, heeseung can’t help but notice what happened. you were fine last break. your eyes which used to be sparkling with curiosity had been traded for puffy eyes and a fake smile.

he wanted to come up to you, wanted to ask what’s wrong. but as your chair introduced the journalists, he’d wonder if it was just an impulsive thought.

each journalist had to share 10 minutes worth of press conference time to ask questions, a tight amount of time. as the journalist on your far left begins, the clock begins to tick. being the last journalist to ask, you begin to feel worried.

but as the mic is passed to you, and mere two minutes left on the clock, you scramble to compose yourself and your questions. “this journalist would like to open the question to the floor, with the excessive drug trade impacting the economy of your countries, what is an effective solution you’d have to decrease the drug circulation, but at the same time, would not damage your economy?”

placards were raised, and amongst them, were heeseung’s. you could see the colombian flag on his placard raised high, but as the journalist of the new york times, your work came first. therefore, you chose someone else. “yes, delegate of the united states?”

the delegate of the united states stood up, and you finally saw the name on his nametag. yang jeongin. he smirked at you, sending a wink. “thank you madam journalist for the intriguing question, as the drug trade across our country begins to increase…”

as you held your hand forward holding your phone out to record his answer, continuing to talk for the next minute. it felt like a lifetime. but in the corner of your eye, you could feel his gaze burning holes. heeseung held his placard high, glaring dead straight at jeongin even if he was still speaking. but as you thank jeongin for his answer, you open the question once more to the floor.

you hear a screech of the chair as heeseung, the only one holding his placard up, stands up to answer. but you don’t discern anything he says. you just stare at him. before you knew it, the clock rang, signaling that time was up.

sunoo nudged your arm once more, trying to snap you out of it. “you okay?” he asked, worry written all over his face. you nodded to tell him you were okay.

as you were escorted out of the room to head to the hotel restaurant for lunch break, you couldn't help but feel the same feeling of heeseung's gaze at the back of your head. you ignored him, walking out with sunoo by your side.

but you were stopped briefly by someone, none other than the delegate of the united states. "hey, that was a very interesting question you asked earlier at press conference. i was wondering if you need my insight on anything? given as i'm usa and you're the new york times." jeongin suggests, his usual smirk returning from before. sunoo winked at you, before leaving the two of you alone in the hallway.

you blink at him, "oh! yeah, i was thinking about gaining insight from, well our country's side of the story. so what can you tell me?"

your notepad flips open along the click of your pen, ready to jot down his words, before out of the corner of your eye, that sharp gaze returns. the burning stare heeseung emitted was back. you gulped and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. "hey, um jeongin? could we find somewhere a bit more quiet so i can record the interview? i need to make sure everything is clear because i need to submit the questions to my chairs."

jeongin smiled, "of course sweetheart, i know just the place." before he took your hand and led you away. unbeknownst to you, heeseung was fuming.

as the two of you walked away, heeseung couldn't help but wonder. what's so great about yang jeongin anyways? compared to himself, his track record was not all that. yeah he may have won most outstanding or honorable mention a couple times, but never best delegate. consecutively.

heeseung felt a tap on his shoulder, before briefly turning around. jay was standing there with a cup of coffee. he grabbed it out of his hands before immediately drinking out of it.

"that's! hot coffee..." jay protested. but to heeseung, his rage burned hotter. "what's got your panties in a twist?" jay asked, sipping his own cup of coffee.

"nothing, just pissed at a delegate. per usual." heeseung lied. as the two begun to make their way to restaurant to eat lunch.

jay chuckled, seeing his pissed face, "dude, i've known you for over eight years, you don't get pissed at a delegate for no reason. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, everyone here? they're basically professionals. mun legends. i wouldn't have afford this shit if i wasn't good at it. the awards and prizes helped fund this hobby."

heeseung sighed, "it's not just a delegate. it's someone else."

"it's y/n, isn't it?" heeseung snapped his head to glare at jay, as if he grew three heads. "chill dude, i can tell. you're painfully in love with her."

"no no no, you don't get it, she's a menace to my track record. do you remember back at decelis mun before she transferred? her article basically ruined my record the next five muns? i basically had to avoid chairing so the rumors wouldn't be deemed true." heeseung argued, reminiscing the times.

"but you'd argue she's a damn good writer, isn't she?" jay defended, "i mean no one from decelis has won consecutively aside from you. and she comes in to make the decelis name proud. aren't you glad? you're secgen after all. you're just in denial."

heeseung sighed, looking at his cup of coffee, once full, now empty. "i'm not in denial! i'm just stressed with a couple delegates in committee session, unmoderated caucus was, stressful."

entering the restaurant, their eyes landed to the corner booth, where you sat face to face with jeongin. jay turned his head to look at heeseung staring deadset at the two. "well, whatever floats your boat man, i'm gonna get some lunch. unsc might as well go to crisis next comses." jay pats him on the back, joining sunghoon, jake, wonyoung, and minjeong.

heeseung stood still. he couldn't help but wonder. is this what love feels like?

"so, yang jeongin, what can you tell me about the united states' stance on the current illegal drug trade? i assume that the country is fully aware of it happening?" you ask, pressing record on your voicenotes app.

jeongin looked around, before reaching over and pressing the stop recording button on your phone. before you could protest, "okay cut the crap, what's going on between you and lee heeseung?"

you looked at him strangely, not expecting the sudden confrontation. "well, nothing? i don't know what you want me to say, this isn't part of the interview."

jeongin dug into his food, "screw that shit, i wanna know why your secgen is all on my ass. i mean i looked at you once at comses earlier, and he looked at me like i lit an orphanage on fire."

you almost choked on your pasta, "what the hell, dude. he's just like that. he hates my guts so much he has to make me feel uncomfortable everywhere i go. i literally bring home decelis as many awards as he has in the past two years. i don't get him."

"nah, i don't think that's hate. he looked at me as if he was clyde and i was trying to steal away his bonnie. that's a look of love."

you sighed, "the thing is jeongin, he doesn't care. i've done everything to pique his attention, best journalist awards left and right, i was supposed to run for deputy secgen but he didn't let me. he said i wasn't a true decelis muner yet. i mean 8 muns in the span of a couple months? and i've never lost a single one? he probably hates me because i chose the lamest council."

jeongin swallows his food before he comes to realization, "hey weren't you the journalist who wrote on heeseung back at decelis' mun? i remember felix-hyung, my friend, that he went feral over it. he was chairing unicef, and in the chairs' room, he overheard heeseung talking about your article. how it was going to ruin his track record, or something."

"i mean, i do remember briefly. wonyoung, my chair, said i was allowed to write about the chairs or staff, even if they were filler articles. i wrote about heeseung and jay out of interest, i didn't know their history." you confessed, feeling quite bad about the outcome. "i didn't want my article to end up being gossip or shit talk, i just wrote what i wanted to."

"freedom of the press, am i right?" jeongin laughed, "speaking of the devil." signaling heeseung heading towards your table.

heeseung stood at your table. "yang. l/n." before scooting next to jeongin's side of the booth. you couldn't help but move your eyes between the two. after what sunoo and the boys told you earlier, and jeongin's confirmation that basically people could tell, you sit there in silence.

heeseung clears his throat, "well i'm not seeing much interviewing going on, delegates."

you scoffed at him, "it's none of your business heeseung. we're all delegates, it's lunch break. you don't have to boss around all the time."

"our decelis guidebook strictly confers to not confide in the enemy. and here you are, with the enemy. you know if you spill precious information regarding us we'd be dead?" he scolded you.

a laugh escaped your throat, "the enemy? jeongin is far from the enemy to me. matter of fact, heeseung, you've been more of an enemy to me rather than a secgen."

jeongin whispered, "keep it down y/n, it's okay."

you stood up in anger, "no it's not okay! i've been trying my hardest to do everything i can, i've won consecutively since my first mun at decelis, i've done everything you ask for. i've done nothing but make the decelis name proud, but i just can't happen to make you proud. what do i have to do next? i do everything and all i do is fall at second best. if you hate me so much then kick me off the goddamn team! wouldn't want me tarnishing your precious track record by having a traitor on the team, would you? all this over a stupid article i wrote months ago." you walk away from the table, returning to your room.

heeseung was speechless, the rest of the room was in awe, normally delegates would be able to stay professional. even if there was a break up or something. even wonyoung and minjeong looked at heeseung in anger, meanwhile jake, jay, and sunghoon looked at him in disappointment. jeongin stood up and left the booth, avoiding any more anger out of heeseung. "if i were you, i'd apologize. that girl has done nothing but try to please you and make you proud. start there." jeongin added before leaving.

out of habit, heeseung hung his head low in embarrassment. this was worse than the time you wrote that article about him. as he stood up to confide in the boys for advice, he spots a small leather notepad in the corner of the booth. it was yours. he'd have to find you, face you and give it back. it wouldn't hurt to read a bit of what's inside, right?

running back to your room, you couldn't dare return till next comses. the fact that an entire room full of delegates and chairs had heard you scream at heeseung's face. and returning back to the bed you woke up from this morning, limbs tangled with heeseung, didn't really help.

hiding your face in your bedsheets, tears flowing freely, you couldn't help but smell the familiar cologne he had left behind. the smell stung your nose, and made your eyes water more. the scent that once plagued you, now had lulled you to sleep.

a blurry facade appeared, the sound of heavy noise music remained muffled. your feet were cold on the hotel floor, destination? room 777. you were swaying side to side, but thankfully you were able to hold on to a pillar, which was moving with you.

"we shouldn't have drunk this much, right l/n? i'm not even sure i'm prepped for comses tomorrow morning." the pillar said.

"you have it easy, lee. you don't have to write 4 pieces worth of mandatory articles and observe other council's committee sessions." you replied, a clear slur in your voice.

it, who turned out to be heeseung, laughed, and it was like music to your ears. "i thought you journalists just copy-pasted shit off google or something, didn't get why you'd have to sit in the back of council rooms."

you scoffed at him, "well, as secretary-general, you should've known better. if only you noticed what i've been doing all this time to get your attention, maybe you would've understood."

"you think i haven't been paying attention? i've had my eyes on you ever since you wrote that silly article about me back at decelis mun. 'who's really chairing crisis?' you do know me and jay have been friends since primary, right?" he argued.

"that i know know, lee. the fact that you caused all the fuss over an article that was purely for mun, and had no ill intention is just stupid. i just wanted to be able to express myself." you confessed, feeling underestimated.

he sighed, pressing the up button on the lift, "it's not that i fussed over an article, it's that you wrote about me. i don't see many people brave enough to write about a secretary-general." before he could continue, the doors to the lift dinged and opened, allowing the two of you to walk in.

"i mean," he stuttered, clicking the number seven on the lift's buttons, "you amazed me. i've never met a person who could express themselves so much through their writing. no one paid attention to me enough to write such a critical piece about me."

you smiled at him, "so i'm special? i was the first to write about you, right?" he chuckled at your cheeky comment, "yes you're a first. i wouldn't mind if you kept writing about me."

"but why'd you hate me? i've done so much for decelis to make you proud, but you still have a way to butcher me. i just wanted to impress you." you'd sighed into his chest, the world beginning to spin.

luckily, heeseung had caught you before you fell, right on time as the lift reached the seventh floor. he basically carried you out, trying not to drop you.

"if i hated you so much, i wouldn't be helping you get back to our room, nor would i be making sure you get back safely." he assured you, holding you in his arms.

you groaned in protest, "but you do, don't you? i'm never enough for you, after everything i've done. all the things i did—"

you were shut up by his lips on yours. out of the blue, with no warning signs, he had kissed you. out of habit you kissed him back, lips molding against each other as if you had been waiting for years, as if you couldn't live without each other. all hatred you held against him dissipated. your arms crawling towards the back of his neck to pull him closer, his own pulling on your waist.

he pulled away to take a breath, but you couldn't breathe. he was your oxygen. you connected the two of you together, chasing his lips, his touch, his presence. it was the sweetness, the flavor of love and lust hanging. you’ve been craving his attention, hell, even his touch for months.

but your lungs craved oxygen, forcing you to pull away, hiding your face in his chest. as you were taking in the moment, he chuckled, "i wouldn't have done that if i hated you, would i?"

waking up with a jolt, the memories of last night came rushing in. you thanked yourself that the two of you hadn't fucked, but the idea of kissing him and liking it gave yourself insight. you wondered if heeseung remembered too.

opening your phone and seeing the time, you rushed out of your room as you were late to your next editorial meeting. it being the last committee session of the day, all you had to do was submit your mandatory articles of the day, and you'd be done. running back to your council room, knocking slightly on the door, you rushed back to your seat.

"journalist, you're late. why is that?" shuhua asked, beomgyu beside her, taking notes.

you sat down and composed yourself, "i'm sorry chairs, i slept in during break. it won't happen again."

the chairs nodded at you, letting it pass. the room discussed about how press conferences was, reminding the journalists of the upcoming deadline, but your mind was in the gutter.

you touch your lips, and you feel the lingering taste on your tongue. you were shocked out of your trance with the knocks of the chairs' gavel hitting the sound block. with only an hour left to finish your mandatory article, you begin to type.

social night was an mun tradition. after a full day of committee sessions, all councils, no matter what their council was, it gave a chance for all the delegates to mingle amongst each other.

free from the deadline of your first mandatory article, you had the whole night to party it out before tomorrow, where you had to finish your final mandatory article.

social nights usually had themes, and tonight, harvard model congress' was inspired by bridgerton, along with masquerade masks were in array. you had packed a a black dress, which belonged to your mother. she’d always tell you to save it for a special occasion, a moment you wouldn’t want to forget. and for tonight, as you miss your mom's touch, you wear your dress with pride.

walking to the venue, and right before you could even enter, you’re immediately greeted by wonyoung and minjeong. "oh my god sweets are you okay?" wonyoung asked, holding your face, clear worry in her eyes. "we heard and saw what happened at lunch, good for you to finally confront the bitch." minjeong commented, which earned her, once again, another slap on the arm by wonyoung.

you nodded at the two, holding their hands, "i'm fine, don't worry. i just needed to get it out of my system, that's all."

"to think of it, i haven't seen him since. normally when you pass by the crisis room, you'd hear his voice bouncing off the walls..." wonyoung confessed, "that's very unlike of him."

minjeong scoffs at her comment, "who cares? he's been downplaying y/n's achievements for the past couple months, i wouldn't be able to stay quiet if i were you."

you sighed at the two bickering in front of you, "guys, i just want tonight to be about us. this is harvard model congress for god's sake, i want to make the best out of it. so can we stop the heeseung talk and have some fun? please?"

the two nodded at your request, not pestering you any further. you all walk into the venue, being handed masquerade masks. the venue was decorated to the nines, and it felt like a ball straight out of bridgerton. the three of you were guided to your delegation table, which seated you, the girls, jake, and sunghoon. but heeseung? he was no where to be found.

"where's heeseung? it's not like him to miss out on social night." jake asked you.

you sat down on your assigned seat, and the seat on your right, which was supposed to occupy heeseung, was cold and empty. "why are you asking me? he hates me, remember?"

jake shrugged, "i don't know, i just reckoned that since the two of you are sharing a room, you'd know where he is."

minjeong scoffs, "who cares? y/n got ready at me and wony's room anyways, so no, we don't know where he is."

"jay said earlier today that he's been looking for him. wonder where he went. and if he found him..." sunghoon tells the table, sipping on his glass of water.

stuck in your trance, you were snapped out of it by a screeching of a chair, one, being jay, and the other was right next to you. heeseung. he was in his usual suit and tie, a couple buttons on the top were unbuttoned. you glanced at his tired eyes, hidden underneath the masquerade mask.

"dude? where've you been?" jake asked jay, slapping him on the shoulder.

jay sighed and drank a gulp of his water, "looking for this asshole over here." while pointing at heeseung, "took me a while to find him literally on the rooftop. i swear seoul uni has the most crazy hideouts. i'm not even sure i can even find my way back."

"how'd you find your way there anyways?" sunghoon asked heeseung.

he sighed, "don't know. just, found it." his demeanor slipping away as you begin to see the raw brokenness. you didn't hurt his ego that much, right?

as the clock struck seven, waiters all around the room began laying out the meals. you took a glimpse of the dinner courses in front of you, not really having an appetite for anything. but you still tried to eat, tried not to waste your food, tried to seem okay in front of him.

heeseung, on the other hand, was trying his best not to combust. sitting next to you was hard enough, but the fact you were wearing such a beautiful dress had him awestruck. he also lost his appetite. he couldn't help but stare at you.

after dinner, your friends stood up and ran over to the dance floor, and you were unfortunately dragged along. a remix of many famous hits were played, before you sang your hearts out to iris, by the goo goo dolls. you felt someone tap you on your shoulder, which to your surprise you see jeongin.

"could i have this dance?" he asked, hand out for you to grab, iris still playing in the background.

you nodded and grabbed his hand before you two danced foolishly to iris, heels discarded, his suit as well, just dancing your hearts out. but you had your limits, you were tired and excused yourself to grab some water. before you felt a nudge on your right, as heeseung leaned towards your ear. "can we talk later? don't say no just yet, just follow the green post its."

he walks away, as you look at him in confusion. feeling bad for what you said at lunch, you decide to meet him and see what he has to say.

following the pins of green post-its he left behind, you find yourself at the hidden rooftop jay was talking about at dinner. you open the door to be shocked at the view. the stars twinkling in the night sky. and stood there near the edge, was heeseung.

you broke the silence, clearing your throat, "you wanted to speak to me?"

heeseung looked at you and your dress, his mind going places. "yeah. i did. i'm not expecting an apology. i deserve it."

"but why'd you hate me so much, heeseung?" you whined at him, sick of his jokes.

"the thing is l/n, i don't!" he shouts, walking towards you, "it's not that i hate you, it's that i hate the way you make me feel. i hate the way you're so good at writing, i hate the way you win everything to make me proud, i hate the way you know my weaknesses, i hate the way you never gave up. you're on my mind every fucking day."

you walk up towards him, pulling his suit to pull him down, and him not expecting anything, you slap him across his face.

heeseung immediately pulled back, "ow! what was that for?"

"that was for not telling me about how you felt. you didn't have to bottle it up, you know?" you scoffed.

"and you didn't have to either!" he protested back, pulling out a familiar journal. your journal.

you grabbed it from his hands, "how'd you find this? i didn't even realize it was missing..."

heeseung sighed, "you know for a smart writer like you, you're very forgetful." a smile beginning to emerge.

"what did you read, heeseung? tell me." you asked, afraid that your secrets would spill out.

heeseung walked towards you, "enough to know that you're too stubborn to even tell me the truth. if you'd been feeling this way for months then you should have told me."

you gasped at him, "i would have told you about it if you weren't such a dick all the time? and then you kissing me last night just added more fuel to the fire." not realizing what you said, heeseung cupped your face, which was full of confusion.

"you remember last night?"

you blinked. "everything."

he laughed, "then you'd know i wouldn't hate you as much if i was doing this, would i?"

the familiar taste of his lips returned as he kissed you. you held onto his hands as he caressed your face. the oxygen you once craved had been fulfilled. you strung your arms around his neck, clinging onto him for dear life. you could feel the burst of sparks just surrounding the two of you, a moment you both craved.

the wavering facade between the two finally faded, unleashing the raw desire the two of you had, rushing through your veins.

you pulled away, heeseung leaning his forehead onto yours, before he gave you his best smile. you blushed out of nervousness and proximity the two of you held, not used to this view.

"you still hate me now?" you joked, smiling at him. his eyes softened, before he laughed, and kissing you once more, not wanting to let go. and as the stars glimmered under the night sky, you forgot time ever existed. forget the committee sessions due tomorrow, it was the two of you against the world.

surely, waking up on the final day of the conference would give you a sense of peace, right? wrong. you had spent so much time last night making out and talking with heeseung that you forgot your final mandatory article was due soon. waking up from the bed the two shared, limbs tangled once more, this time, you weren't ashamed.

you kissed heeseung's forehead to wake him up, and despite heeseung's wishes to stay in and make out some more, you declined and got ready.

"can't you just stay? a bit late to the first comses of the day won't hurt your awards." heeseung groaned, asking you to return.

"i was late at yesterday's comses post-lunch, so i think i'm going to be a good girl and come early to this one." you replied, fixing your tie.

heeseung basically stood up and tried to pull you back to bed, "come on, just be my good girl. i promise you will be awarded with all of my kisses in the world."

you shook your head, "missing out on a couple kisses won't be the death of me. come on, you need to prep for comses too."

heeseung moaned in complaint, "no, i'd break my streak for you, i don't care. i just want to stay in with you, away from everybody."

you were able to crawl your way out of his touch, "nope! i'm not letting you lose your streak just over me. come on, get ready. i'm going down for breakfast."

"can i at least have a goodbye kiss before you go?" he pouted, and the way his eyes resembled bambi, you gave in.

you tried to just give him a quick peck, but his touch was so fragile and welcoming, that if you didn't stand your ground, you'd probably be pinned down till the rest of the day. but you didn't want that, so you let go of his touch, assuring him that you'd spend more time with him after the conference.

now, here you were, back in your conference room with a giddy look on your face. you couldn't help but dream of last night. even sunoo, riki, jungwon, along with wonyoung, minjeong, and sunghoon, were even surprised to see you better all of a sudden.

"okay is this some weird process girls do the cope with sadness, cause if so how do we fix her?" sunoo asked, concerned.

wonyoung was staring at you like you were beaming, "it looks like pregnancy glow."

riki basically spit out his coffee, "wait so they actually fucked?"

minjeong snapped at riki, "who fucked?"

"we had speculation that, y/n and heeseung fucked the first night, hence why she was out of it the next day..." jungwon explained to the rest.

sunghoon, the only person out of the group who happened to know heeseung the best, commented that; "no there's no way he fucked her. if they fucked, they wouldn't have been here."

"could you stop speculating that me and heeseung fucked?" you snapped at the group. not out of anger, but annoyed that you couldn't concentrate.

"sorry, but did you?" riki enquired, earning him a riki! from the group around him. "what? i just wanna know."

you sighed, standing up and packing a couple things, "who cares if we fucked or not? just leave us alone." as you head out of the council room, heading to the crisis room for some final details.

contrary to how you first felt when you walked into the room, your heart felt full of hope. that this time, heeseung wouldn't be staring at you with hatred, instead of love. you hoped you wouldn't distract him.

as you walked into the council room, you nodded at chair yeonjun, before taking a seat at the prepared seats for the journalists. you sit down, open your laptop as you're typing your final mandatory article. you tried to glimpse towards heeseung, but you were returned with the same feeling as yesterday. the sharp gaze was back. maybe it's because he's in is element? mun is important to him... you thought, and busied yourself to writing your article. since it was your final committee session, you just had to submit your article and return for the closing editorial meeting. quickly clicking submit, and the chairs deeming the final committee session over, you wanted to sneak a quick kiss before returning for your meeting.

you stood up from your seat and walked towards heeseung. he stood up and saw you, walking your way. instead of being greeted by a hug or a kiss, he brushed past you to talk to his fellow delegates. you felt a pang in your chest, the way heeseung ignored you like that. you thought everything was okay. the kisses you shared, the conversations you had. you looked back at heeseung only to see him busy talking with the other delegates, barely sparing you a glance. you left the room quickly, not looking back.

unbeknownst to you, heeseung saw you leaving, his heart barely surviving after treating you like that. you deserved better than him. he couldn't have it all.

the final editorial meeting of press councils should be a joy to you. no more deadlines, no more press conferences. but you were stuck in your head. repeating the interaction over and over in your head, you didn't understand a single thing.

after the comments and input from both the chairs and the journalists, chair shuhua decided to pull out the gossip box. you'd been informed prior about the gossip box filling at social night, but since you ran off with heeseung to make out the night away, you didn't have time to fill it in.

as shuhua and beomgyu begin to read the entries, earning laughter all around the room, a certain entry snaps you out of your trance.

"oh this is a good one! new york times from press and colombia from crisis actually fit really good together! hope the enemies finally turn into lovers! wait is this about y/n and heeseung?" chair shuhua asks, causing the whole room to look at you.

you looked at everyone strangely, "what? there's nothing."

chair beomgyu shook his head, "no no no, i don't think there's nothing. come on spill the tea, something must've happened the past three days."

everybody was waiting on your response. waiting for you to tell everyone what happened. you just wanted them to shut up. "okay well. we kissed."

the group of six who were pestering you earlier, gasped loudly. earning you a rumble of no shit's, wait actually's, and a loud jinjja?!

you couldn't help but sink back into your seat, still upset about the way he treated you earlier. "yeah, but he's treating me like shit again today, so. that's that."

the entire room aww'ed in disappointment, before the chairs read out a couple more entries, and adjourns the final editorial. you stand up to clean your table, taking out a pen to begin signing each others' placards. signing everybody else's, photo sessions were in array, and after you were finally allowed to have some free time before awarding ceremony.

awarding ceremony was one of those moments where you have hope, but at the same time you don't. you start rethinking choices you made during the conference, wondering if you made the right option. you headed your way to where the press council was sat at, where you met a couple other delegates, even bumping into jeongin, wishing each other a good luck!

you sit down between wonyoung and minjeong, which earned you an endearing hug from the two, assuring your problems with heeseung didn't matter. stuck in your head, you didn't notice the boys' absence in the room. and awarding had begun. the secretary-general of harvard model congress came up and made their speech, thanking all the delegates for participating and giving their best. chairs from other councils begin to come up to give their awards.

meanwhile, outside of the room, was heeseung cornered by jay, jake, and sunghoon.

heeseung, not caught up with the situation, looked at the three with confusion. "what did i do?"

jay scoffed, "what did you do? you managed to fuck it up again? what did i tell you?!" shaking the life out of him.

heeseung shook his head in confusion, not knowing what to do, when sunghoon came up to him, "look man, your little feud with y/n has to stop. i don't get you anymore. i thought you'd be good at this after helping me and wonyoung get together..."

"nah dude you're in denial. what do you mean you two basically confessed to not hating each other and then made out a bunch of times, only for you to leave her and ignore her like so? that's crazy." jake protested. that was the truth.

"i don't know what to tell you, but me and jake have got to get back for unsc awarding, but please think about it? i know you feel scared of this whole love thing, but i assure you, it's okay to feel this way." jay says, leaving with jake, which left sunghoon with heeseung alone.

heeseung didn't know what to do. for the first time in his life, everything was out of his control. he craved you and needed you, but he felt like he didn't deserve you. it was as if a crisis was happening in his own mind.

as he hears the cheers of the room with every award that is given out, his heart races. he hears the announcement where jay and jake both won best delegates, which they had been double delegating in.

sunghoon kept trying to comfort heeseung, not knowing what to say to him. "look, i may not understand the way your mind works, but i assure you that you deserve her. you've put yourself through it all for decelis, and the track record that we have wouldn't have been what it is now if it wasn't for you. i don't know what plan you're cooking up, but whatever it is, win her back." heeseung looks at sunghoon with sheer nervousness in his eyes. "press and crisis are left, so whatever you want to do? do it now. before its too late."

leaving heeseung alone outside the room, sunghoon walks back in, returning to where the press journalists sat. he saw you picking on your nails out of habit, nervous for the next awards. as your chairs walk up to the podium, sunghoon just hopes heeseung would do something.

as names begin getting called out, sunoo winning best pre-conference video, then riki and jungwon winning verbal commendations, wonyoung and minjeong winning honorable mentions, you held on tight to the tiny string of hope left. it was probably between you and sunghoon left. as you look around the room, heeseung is still nowhere to be found. you had hoped that maybe with this win, you'd make him proud once and for all.

"the final two journalists were a tight match. these two shown impeccable talent in their articles and presence the past three days." shuhua announces. "it is with our great pleasure that the most outstanding journalist goes to, park sunghoon!"

wonyoung, who was on the stage prior, basically screams in joy. you high five sunghoon before he winks at you, knowing you'd win best journalist. but a part of you still thinks you won't.

beomgyu gives sunghoon his award, before adjusting his mic. "this final journalist has pure talent in her writing, and have awestruck the both of us with her work. without further ado, we would like to present that the best journalist award goes to none other than... l/n y/n!"

relief. that's all what washes towards you. yes you've heard your name and the words best journalist go along too often, but every time it happens, it always feels euphoric. as you walk up the stage to receive your award, earning smiles from the other awardees, you couldn't help but look to the crowd.

you see jay and jake basically jumping up and down in joy, but heeseung was still nowhere to be found. a pang of disappointment burns in your chest as you walk down the podium with your certificate in hand. an array of congratulations! are heard, as you sit back down for the final awarding. crisis.

zoning out, after feeling the euphoria of your win, your mind drifts off to heeseung. how would he feel? was he proud?

as chair yeonjun announces the awardees, you are cut out of your trance with every round of applause. you see jeongin win most outstanding, and you cheer for him.

as yeonjun clears his throat for the final award, he begins his speech. "this final award goes to a delegate who really deserves it all. although this mun may have not been his best run, he deserves so much more than the title: prodigy. i'd like to present this best delegate award to none other than... you know what? lee heeseung get up here, get your award, and get your girl!"

with pure shock, you watch as heeseung bursts through the doors, run up to the podium, quickly shake his chairs' hands, grabs his certificate, and runs down. and he's running to you.

he drops his certificate on the floor, before engulfing you in the biggest hug he's ever given in his life. spinning you around, you squeal in excitement. he whispers in your ear an array of i'm so proud of you's, before putting you down, and kissing you in front of everyone.

you cling onto him, parting your lips allowing him to kiss you deeper and deeper, and the feeling of sparks flying around you made it feel like it would last forever. your ears muffle all the cheers surrounding you, only focusing on heeseung, and heeseung only.

he puts you down and rests his forehead on yours, exactly like how he did on the rooftop the night before. "how'd you pull this off?" you ask him, still on cloud nine.

"eh, had some help from chair yeonjun. didn't expect the bestdel though." heeseung laughs, holding you by the waist, tighter, and tighter.

you held his face closer, wanting to feel his touch, "why'd you do that? why'd you run?"

"y/n. i love you. i never knew how to say it all this time, because it's a feeling unlike any other. to the point it made me feel as if my life was in crisis. but that's when i realized i never had it all. not until i found you."

taglist; @riekiss @sesameoil721 @desistay @capri-cuntz @beomluvrr @shawnyle @tya0 @heexoolio @sunghoonsgff @spiderhanzzz (crossed out = i can't tag you)

back to my masterlist?

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction.

© 𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐇𝐄𝐄, est. 2024 | do not plagiarize, modify, translate, or repost my works on any platforms.

[oph3liatlou]

Heyy,

I‘d love to request a Haymitch x reader fic! Just something wholesome. Some bullet points for the context:

-age gap

-she falls first he falls harder

-enemies to friends with benefits to lovers

-maybe a tiny bit of spice

The rest is totally up to you!!!

— PAST EMOTIONS

@mariechristine00

pairing(s) - soft!haymitch x recovering!fem reader

word count - 801

warnings - mentions of sex (past tense), light bickering, age gap (haymitch is 42 & reader is 27), implied situations.

proofread? - yes.

note from author - why did his flirting make me giggle 🤭 ???

summary - you were rescued from the capitol along with other victors - haymitch is your first visitor and you're happy to see him.

“You don’t happen to have any alcohol on you, do you?” Haymitch asked. He was your very first visitor since you had been brought to District 13 - along with Peeta, Johanna, and Annie. You considered Haymitch as a friend, of sorts…though you two didn’t get along when you first met.

I smile gently when you saw Haymitch was your first visitor. you were definitely happy to see a friendly face. “You think I’d be able to smuggle something like that in?”

“You’d be surprised.” He said, in a matter-of-fact tone. “How’d your visit with Coin go?” He asked, now stepping into your room.

“Haven’t gone yet.” You shook your head. “She thought I’d be in the same shape as Peeta.” And this was true, Coin had said that you should get your rest.

Haymitch seemed to find your words amusing, chuckling slightly before sitting in a nearby chair. "How are you feeling?" He asked, in a much kinder tone than that of how he spoke to you before. He didn't seem like the type to care about other victors' welfare - but he was much more attentive to you since your rescue.

This out-of-character nature seemed to confuse you when you pointed that out to him. "Since when have you started being so nice?"

He shrugged, raising an eyebrow as if he just found your question amusing. "You're not in a condition to be picking fights, are you?"

You scoffed. You two always had this banter going on with eachother but - the tension was released the few times you had slept together.

His grey-blue eyes met yours. "Besides..." He continued. "I've always been nice. To you."

You chuckled at his comment. "No, you haven't. We hated eachother when we first met."

His smirk grew at the mention of your first meeting. He looked as if he had remembered something that amused him greatly - though he kept it to himself. "Maybe, but even then...couldn't deny the chemistry, could we?" He asked.

You gave him a side glance with a soft chuckle. "I wanted to smack you in the face the first time we met - if you wanna call that chemistry..."

"And I would've loved every second of it," He said, his smirk growing. "You have to admit, the physical tension..." He trailed off, hoping you'd finish the sentence.

You smiled looking up from your eyebrows. You had been tracing designs on the blankets of your rather uncomfortable - recovery bed. "I know." You mumbled like a child would have.

"And the times - when we acted on it..." He let his sentence linger again, trying to get you to look over at him - which you eventually did. The playful smile on his expression seemed to indicate that he really did remember - quite clearly - the intimate times you two had spent together.

You met his eyes again and shook your head gently. This wasn't something you wanted to talk about now - especially since boundaries had been set beforehand.

"C'mon. You're telling me you don't remember? I certainly do..." He teased, getting up from his chair and sitting beside you on your bed. "We might've decided not to take it any further, but we both enjoyed every second of it, didn't we?"

You found yourself sighing. "Maybe we should've taken it further." You realized why you had agreed with him on the initial arrangement - you knew there was a chance that you could've been killed since you were helping the rebels. But now you were safe and recovering in the underground of District 13.

His smile grew again at this - it seemed that he had been secretly hoping the same thing this entire time. "I couldn't agree more." He admitted, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you into a small side hug. "It's not too late..." He murmured, brushing your hair off your cheek and leaning closer to you.

You looked at him softly. "I'm not too young for you?" You joked gently. You were much younger than him, maybe by 15 years or so.

Haymitch smirked in response to your question. He mimicked your joking tone. "I think you're old enough to make your own decisions. Wouldn't you?" He whispered, his voice tinged with arousal as he moved his head closer to yours. His warm breath lightly brushed against the side of your face - as a chill seemed to travel up your spine.

You nodded with a gentle smile. "The age difference doesn't bother me..."

His lips met yours softly, before he pulled you even closer to him. You felt his warm body pressed against yours as his hand started to softly caress you hair. He broke away from the kiss with a soft laugh. "God, I've missed you."

You smirked gently. "Show me how much you've missed me-" You paused. "I'll close the door."

read my merged works here!

[azrielgreen]

There's a reason I always moderate comments but i approved this one so people can see how truly vile it gets sometimes. I'm not arrogant. I don't think the way I write is better at all. Exploring them on an authentic level means exploring this, or any, version of them with wholehearted passion, not that this is the authentic interpretation of them. Writing intense stuff isn't a brag, it's a warning so people can be prepared for stuff like arguments and confrontations. I always over-warn for CW stuff so that, again, people are prepared. I never once have asked people to read it. It's just there and I've tried my best to a) write something i loved and b) thoroughly warn those who might read it. Any interpretation of the characters is valid and worth exploring. It's so sad to see a reeled off list of all the way Steve "should be" and the implication that nothing but strict canon adherence could ever be a passionate, worthy exploration. It's... only fanfic? It's not real. They're not real. Nothing is real and everything is possible and that's supposed to be what's fun about it.

I write the characters very intensely, so yes, they are often out of character, sorry for... warning about that? I write different backgrounds for them and play with the negative space of possibilities and potential and i do this with authentic curiosity and passion because I love doing it and i get very into it. Sorry for warning about that too, I guess? When I first started writing in this fandom, some people pointed out to me that I could CW warn for them being OOC and that was new to me, i didn't think I had to warn for that. I thought people would read the tags, like in other fandoms, and understand that the story would do different things with the characters but it became clear that this was actually solid advice as this was a fandom obsessed with "canon adherence" and policing. So I thought I would CW as thoroughly as I could so no one would be shocked or disappointed and then maybe they wouldn't leave an essay of hate in the comments.

But ultimately, people like this would only be satisfied if I deleted everything and stopped writing. I barely participate in this fandom as it is beyond answering asks and writing. I don't rec my own work. The thing i don't ever want, and this is why it was worrying seeing something like YD becoming "popular", is for people to feel like they *should* read my work without having gone and looked for it via the tags. Without having found it naturally, just by browsing and thinking "that's definitely for me". I've only ever posted for small rarepairs in the past so a couple of comments on a fic always made me so happy. I write for myself and the few others in the world who might like it. I have never written for an audience. If you don't like something I wrote, it's not for you. Genuinely. Move along to the next, no? That's what I would do.

This was so spiteful and targeted. YD is so old at this point, I just don't understand people who do shit like this. I don't bother anyone and I try to be here for anyone who needs me. I CW as thoroughly as I can. I don't think I'm better than anyone. I think every single iteration of these characters is worthy and valid and what matters is how fun they were to write, for the author. I had so much fucking fun with these stories that seeing this miserable little rant seems pointless to me. I don't care if you didn't like it. I don't care if it wasn't to your taste. Writing it was what I wanted. Sharing it is secondary, always. It's fanfiction, written for free in my spare time. I didn't take up space, I didn't trample anyone. There is no reason for this beyond spite.

I am sorry about the vest/jacket mixup, however. Truly, genuinely from the bottom of my heart devastatingly sorry about that. I know it'll take time for people to forgive me and maybe no one ever will, I have to make my peace with that.

Anyway, thanks for loudly projecting your feelings onto me and my work.

💜💜💜

[bjornswoman]

Nemesis's wish

Author's note: Hello everyone! I'm back with this fic which is my favorite so far. It was supposed to be shorter but eventually it couldn't, so this isn't the end about these two characters. This fic is the first of a trilogy (hopefully). Anyway, thank you for your support and till next time stay safe and have fun.

Pairing: Ubbe x Reader.

Genre: Mini!series, drama, angst, slight romance.

Summary: You were forced to marry a man you despise.

Warnings: Mentions of cheating and pregnancy, mentions of divorce, jealousy and strong language.

My enemy and me masterlist |

Life had always been a challenge for you. And your wedding couldn't be any different. The worst part of it was that your husband, the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with, was horrible and you hated him.

Well, horrible wasn't a word people would use to describe Ubbe Ragnarsson. They preferred to call him loyal, reasonable, honorable and names like these, but for you he was horrible. A man you were forced to waste your life on his bloody side.

Your relationship was almost non-existent. Ubbe tried to have a deal with you or even approach you somehow but you wanted nothing with him. So he was never around the house.

You knew that he had affairs with other women, something that he had never admitted. It worked for you until you were with child. His child. It was a miracle that it happened. You almost couldn't believe it but it was the truth. After all, people were talking about you two and this child came to end the rumors around your marriage.

You hated Ubbe but you loved more than anything and anyone in the world your son. He was blonde and his eyes had the same blue as his father's. He resembled him a lot but you didn't care. Your baby was so peaceful, unlike his father and his brothers who were always too loud.

Thankfully for you, most of the year he was not around the town, because he was raiding in the spring and was back in the winter. The unlucky part was that winter was approaching and that meant that Ubbe would be back within some days.

It was like your son had notice your moody self all these days and he was upset as well. He would cry all time and he wouldn't sleep easily, like usual.

Your hands were wrapped around the toddler and you brought him on your lap trying to calm him down.

"Come on baby. Relax please. Just do it for mummy please." You muttered to your son as you tried to calm him down. You stood up from the bed, walking through the room holding the baby on your hands.

You didn't understand that somebody was watching as you were whispering to your son his lullaby. The one you sang every night. The one which could only calm him down, but lately even this specific one couldn't work on him.

"Here, give him to me. He will be delighted when he will see me." Said the guy coming out of the shadows, scaring you so much that you clenched the poor baby on your breasts. You turned your face and saw the person you didn't want to see at all.

Ubbe was standing next to you waiting to have his son. You wouldn't let him lay a hand on him, but you did when you saw the little boy smiling at the sight of his father.

"I thought you wouldn't be back until next week. You came quite early." You were saying as you were placing the boy on his hands. When the baby was on his hands, you took some steps away and placed your hands in front of your chest.

Ubbe's blue eyes were on his son smiling and playing with him. When you finished talking, his eyes left the baby who was almost sleeping on the hands of his father and turned to you. Eyes as blue as you had never seen them before, as beautiful as never before. Or you had never noticed them like that before.

A smirk formed on his face before he started his own words.

"Much to your displeasure, we managed to raid the Christian cities in less time and we decided to come back before the first snowflakes fall." He replied to you and left the sleepy baby on its crandle. The direction of his face returned to you and he placed his hands before his chest, as you did before. You were looking at each other for some seconds without talking, but Ubbe was the one to break the silence. "I didn't think that you would be here when I'd be back home. I was expecting you to take the boy and disappear." His voice was softer than before. Probably because the little boy was sleeping peacefully inside the crandle.

You chuckled when you heard him talking. You were asking that same thing to yourself. You could do that. After all, you were thinking about that all of the months of your pregnancy. You even tried to scheme, but you ended up doing nothing.

To be fair, life wasn't that bad next to Ubbe. At least lately it was quite better and after seeing him back safe and healthy you felt happier and quite more relieved than before. You couldn't find the reason behind all this. The only thing you knew for sure was that you felt strange.

"I thought the same thing, but it wasn't easy to run away when your mother had her guards watching me like hawks." You replied smiling and he smiled as well for a moment. Then, his eyes went darker. The darker shade of blue that you had ever seen in your life.

"I'd never let you go anywhere with my son. You could run away, go wherever, but little Ragnar stays here with me." His words were harsher than any other time before. You felt yourself getting confused. Ubbe had never talked this way to you before this night. He would leave this house and wouldn't talk to you. When he did talk to you he was kind most of the times. He moved closer to you and one his hands made it on your chin.

You moved away from his grip on your face and looked at him all mad. For one moment you thought that you could feel something else than hate and anger for him and he had to destroy these feelings.

"Command your men, not me. And don't be so sure that you will find your son here tomorrow when you would come back from your whores." Your words came out of your mouth like they were drops of poison. You could see his face transforming again. He went mad. If eyes killed, you would be dead by now. If Ubbe was another man, you would be dead by now.

His hands grabbed your neck and he pushed your body on the wall behind you using his own one. You were trapped between him and the wall with his hand around your throat. He could kill you if he wanted to. You were right there at his mercy looking at him angry like before. Looking at him like you weren't afraid of what he could do to you.

"I could kill you for that and nobody would guess it was me." Ubbe whispered to you. His angry eyes were burning your face. You didn't hold back. Your eyes were looking straight at his eyes.

"Go on then." Your voice came out as a whisper due to the pressure on your troat causing by his larger hand.

"Don't test my patience, woman." With that last whisper right above your left ear, Ubbe set you free from his strong grip and walk to your shared bed. He laid on it.

"My name is (Y/N)." You were saying within pauses as you were trying to catch your breath.

"I can recall your name."

"Then use it when you are referring to me!" You raised your voice this time, forgetting about the toddler sleeping next to the bed.

Your son's crying came right after your yelling. You rushed to him and grabbed him from the crandle before Ubbe could touch him.

"You hate me so much that you didn't even care for our son." He said as he sat on the edge of the bed, watching you holding and trying to calm down the crying baby.

"That's not true!" You whisper–yelled looking straight at Ubbe. "This boy is the best thing that has happened in my life since the fucking day I was forced to fucking marry you!" Tears were dropping from your eyes without your notice. "You claim that I hate you, yes I do hate you, but not more than you hate me! You are horrible to me! The mighty Ubbe Ragnarsson who is fair and reasonable to everyone else treats his wife horrible! I get it that you loved that slave girl and you wanted her, but it insults me." You said and wiped away the tears from your face. After that, you held the baby closer to your body and you caressed his hair and then his back. "Go. Find her like any other night. Hopefully, she might be with child and your mother will free us both." You spoke calmer than before and after this you turned to your baby. His teary eyes were looking at yours. "I'm here, my little warrior." You spoke softly at him and started singing only for him.

Ubbe didn't say a word back at you as you were trying to calm the kid so it could sleep. The only thing he did, was to leave from the house and slam the door behind him. When he left, you let the tears stream down from your face.

That night Ubbe didn't come back home, but it wasn't unusual for him. He wouldn't spend the nights at home when he was back. Probably he was drinking with his brothers at the Great Hall and then he was beding that Margrethe girl.

You didn't sleep more than two hours and not because Ubbe wasn't there, but because of your boy's crying. He would wake up every two hours due to fever.

The day was downing when you heard knocks on your door. You opened just to find Hvitserk holding your drunk husband. You moved your head unimpressed and opened your door fully so Hvitserk could move Ubbe on the bed. Little Ragnar was on your hands crying the whole time.

"Is - Is everything alright?" Hvitserk asked quite uncomfortably and brought his hand at the back of his neck.

"No, but it is going to be." You replied at him, caressing the head of your calm now baby who was sleeping. You tried to force a small smile on your face, but you failed as it was expected.

"Why is my nephew so upset today?" Hvitserk was speaking as his hand was caressing your son's blonde head.

"Your nephew has some fever and he is more cranky than usual." You said to your brother-in-law and your lips met your son's forehead. When you felt his decreased temperature you smiled. "But, he is quite colder than before so that's a good sign." You said again and left the boy in the crandle. After that you moved to your kitchen to offer some of your newly baked bread to Hvitserk. He admired your skills in cooking and you appreciated that. "I baked this some time ago. The little monster wouldn't let me sleep." You said when you offered him some of your handmade bread.

"He always calms down when his father is around and don't try to deny it." He pointed out with his mouth full of bread.

You gazed at Ubbe, then at the toddler and at Ubbe again. It was true. Little Ragnar adored his father, it was obvious. Ubbe had a unique ability to charm him, as everyone else. Those son of Ragnar Lothbrok had this ability in their blood.

"I was - I was not going to deny it. I admit that my son adores his father. Everyone adores him." You turned to Hvitserk.

"Everyone except from you."

"What?"

His words caught you off guard. It felt strange when you heard these words coming out of the mouth of a third person. Not so due to the sound of them, but because after the birth of your child people assumed that your relationship with your husband was better. The relationship that a husband would have with his wife. They believed that you grew to love each other and you let them believe so. You wanted them to believe that. You acted like a loving couple in front of others and you even agreed that neither his family should know the real. They seemed relieved and convinced that you finally loved each other.

Hvitserk's eyes landed on your face. You were upset, he could tell by the look of your eyes. He left the empy plate in front of him and concentrated on you.

"Don't act like the loving wife you pretend to be to me. I know better (Y/N). My brother isn't a good liar or pretender. Plus, he spoke a lot last night. Luckily, it was just me there to hear." Hvitserk spoke to you and your eyes met the darkness that covered Ubbe's figure laying on the bed. Before you could even form a word to defend yourself, Hvitserk spoke again. "He was talking about little Ragnar all the time when we were back on the battlefield, you know. He even talked for you a couple of times. It slipped from his lips that he thought that you prayed to Gods for him to die there and I acted like I didn't hear that." He confessed whispering and you felt a tear threatening your left eye. You fought that tear back, you wouldn't let yourself cry in front of Hvitserk. You had cried in front of Ubbe before, but only in front of him because for a strange reason it felt really hard to keep them in.

As for Ubbe's beliefs about your false prayers. Even if you hated him, you would never pray such a thing for the father of your child.

"I - I never - I didn't—" You stopped for a moment to catch your running breath. You closed your eyes for a second and then you re-opened them and looked right at Hvitserk. "I would never pray such a thing. Ubbe and I are whatever we are, but he is still the father of my baby. This boy right there needs his father and whatever bullshit I have told him and he went mad tonight, I wouldn't leave, not after I gave birth to Ragnar. To be honest if it wasn't for him, probably I wouldn't be here right now, but I don't thing that this matters after all." You said honestly.

Hvitserk run his fingers through his messy hair and stretched. After that he took a deep breath.

"If you wanted to leave (Y/N), you would be gone by now. You had your chances before Ragnar but you never did." He spoke and you frowned. You had never thought things that way. But Hvitserk's words were truth.

It had always been a threat that you wouldn't be there when Ubbe would be back home after the raid, but you had never actually done that. You waited for him even when you didn't want him to come home just yet. You caught yourself bringing him up on your prayers just to make sure that Gods would keep him safe, but away for a little longer.

You didn't know what you should have answered him. On the other hand, he didn't need an answer. Hvitserk, as a third person and outside of all this madness, he knew the reason behind both of your behaviors, Ubbe's and yours.

Hvitserk smiled at you and stood up from tbe wooden chair he was sitting. Before he lay his foot outside your house, Hvitserk turned to you.

"It's not a crime to admit that you care for him. Even if you don't want to see it yourself, you have feelings for Ubbe that are not just hatred and anger. You don't need to argue or convince me differently, not me." Hvitserk spoke after his gaze had landed on his brother just to make sure that he wouldn't hear his words. He didn't wait for an answer of yours, he walked through the way that led to the door, but first he looked back at you again. "My advice is only one and hear me for once. I know I am not the wisest person on Midgard, not even close to that, but you have to believe in me just for this once. Don't do anything stupid and let Ubbe go away. You are reaching the end of the line. Both of you are on the edge. You will regret letting him go. Try to think what you want and if you realize that you feel something other than hatred, change. That's my advice to you sweet (Y/N)." Those were Hvitserk's last words. After them he stormed out of the house and left you sinking in your thoughts.

They couldn't be truth, Hvitserk's words. This would be madness. You hated Ubbe and that was it. You were waiting the moment when this marriage would be over. You were living for this same moment. Hvitserk's words confused and made you reconsider everything you thought you felt before this moment.

You couldn't like this guy even a little bit. That couldn't happen. Never. The only good feelings which were trying to form were due to the fact that Ubbe was the father of your son — the only happiness you got from your marriage to your husband was this child. Your miracle baby.

You gazed over to your son and after to his father. You shook your head to avoid your endless thoughts.

You hated Ubbe and wanted to divorce him that was the situation. It wouldn't change. It couldn't change. You waited a very long time to be free from this man, so you wouldn't change your mind just like that, because Hvitserk tried to push some feelings that you didn't even have for his brother.

You stood from your seat and grabbed your basket. You had to clear your mind from all the thinking and going to the market seemed a good solution. Before you leave, you checked oj your sleeping baby and glanced at Ubbe just once.

When you made it out of the door and walked through the streets of Kattegat, people were looking at you suspiciously and you even cought a couple of them whospering to each other as you passed them. At first, you thought that it was a usual day and all this was normal, because you were Ubbe Ragnarsson's wife or something like that. You started to get suspicious when it didn't stop and their stares were persistent on you.

You tried to find a familiar face to ask about the situation, but you weren't that lucky.

After you bought some things you needed you headed back home, where you found Ubbe playing with little Ragnar.

Them playing together — more like Ubbe tickling Ragnar and Ragnar laughing — wasn't a picture you got to see every day. You felt a strange feeling in your heart. It was like a bird flying inside your chest though it didn't last long, because Ubbe's voice made you feel like your usual self towards him.

"Where have you been?" The tone of his voice was imposing and demanding, like he was questioning you. When you heard him you felt quite angry, but you didn't want to cause one more scene in front of your son.

You moved a little bit from the door and left your basket on the table.

"I have been in the market." You spoke as you left your cloak on one of the wooden chairs. As you were speaking, your hands were organizing your kitchen and the stuff you had bought.

When Ubbe heard your answer clicked his tongue inside his mouth, a sound that annoyed you very much.

"What a stupid excuse to leave your child all alone." He said bitterly. Something which made you to turn and look at him. Ubbe had placed your son back inside his crib and was at the other side of the table whick was standing as an obstacle between you and him.

Ubbe was leaned on the wall and his hands were crossed in front of his chest.

You took a deep breath and tried to remain calm for once more because of your child. It wasn't good for your son growing up in an environment where his parents were fighting all the time.

"I didn't leave him all alone, I left him with his father." You responded and leaned your body on the cupboards and placed your hands in front of your chest, like he did before.

"I was fucking sleeping and he was alone! Alone (Y/N)! Anything could have happened to him!" Ubbe yelled as he came even closer and stood inches away from the table.

You closed your eyes and tried to keep your patience.

"I am telling you he wasn't alone, he was with you. You would hear him crying if anything happened." You reasoned angry in low tone of voice, but Ubbe wasn't a bit pleased by your answer. In fact, he was even more angry.

The crying of your baby stopped Ubbe from saying whatever he was going to. You passed from him and grabbed your son from his bed, trying to calm him down.

Your lips placed on his forehead to check on his body temperature and when you knew that he was hot you placed a kiss on his forehead.

"He has fever." You muttered to Ubbe without looking at him.

"What?" His voice sounded different from before when he was talking to you. He sounded surprised and scared.

Undoubtedly, Ubbe loved his son and was an excellent father for him. This child was all he dreamed about. Ragnar just had the wrong mother.

"How long?" He asked again and this time he was close to you caressing the back of your boy.

It was the first time he was this close to you and you two weren't forced to pretend that you wanted it. This time both of you were anxious about your son's health.

"Since last night." You answered him and finally looked at his worried blue eyes. It wasn't the first time you noticed how lovely they were, but it felt like it was. Ubbe was looking back at you, the exact way you looked at him. "Here, hold him for a while." You told him and placed the boy on his hands.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll fetch some water and a wet cloth. They will help."

Within a minute you were both sitting on your shared bed. Ubbe was holding the kid and you were holding the wet piece of cloth on your son's forehead.

"He seems quite better now" Ubbe pointed out and you agreed, taking the cloth away from your baby's sleeping form.

After that, both of you stood from the bed and Ubbe placed your son back inside his crib and both you stayed there looking at the baby for some time.

It felt strange and weird being that close to him and not fighting. When you stopped looking at the baby, you went back to your kitched and he sat on a chair looking around uncomfortable.

Both of you felt uncomfortable and weird around each other for not reason. It wasn't like you didn't know each other, but you felt like strangers to each other indeed. Like you weren't the ones who were fighting some time ago.

"(Y/N)." Ubbe was the first to break the silence between the two of you and you turned to face him.

"Yes, Ubbe." You muttered.

"I—"

He didn't even get to form a proper word when loud knocks on the door startled both of you. You walked pass the table and opened the door. When you did, you met a very worried version of Hvitserk Ragnarsson. You hadn't seen his this way ever again before.

"Brother, I want to talk to you about something." Hvitserk spoke quickly, without greeting you. Ubbe's expression changed when he saw the one his brother had on his face and you were curious yourself, but you didn't ask anything. "Privately." Hvitserk added and glanced at you.

Ubbe stood up from the chair he was sitting and walked to the door.

"If anything happens with the child, go to the Great Hall." Ubbe told you.

"I know." You whispered before he close the door behind him.

It wasn't the first time he left like that. Actually, those times were countless and you felt nothing about it, you didn't really matter where Ubbe was, until this moment. You could feel the agony inside your chest. Your heart was pounding in your chest and your hands were sweating. You had a bad feeling. Or you were just sick. Maybe you had caught the cold from your baby.

That must have been. It was the only reasonable reason about your feelings.

Fortunately, a soft knock on your door stopped your thoughts and you rushed to open. When you opened, you noticed Torvi's worried look on you and frowned.

"Come in." You were the faster one to start talking, as you opened the door wider for her to come in the house. When she was inside, you closed the door behind her.

"I heard that a certain someone is sick and came to help you. I know how it is to have a sick boy. Hali would get sick almost every winter until he was three." She spoke and you smiled warmly.

"He is getting better now. I hope he will be fine in a couple of days." You said smiling, watching your little boy sleeping. But your smile died when you looked at Torvi again.

She had the same worried expression as when she stood outside your house.

"Is everything alright?" You asked as you moved to your kitchen to prepare some tea for the both of you.

"Well, I didn't come only for Ragnar here, I came to see you, too. You are barely around lately." Torvi's voice was softer than usual, but you didn't want to think too much about it. You were just upset because Ragnar was sick that was all. There was nothing suspicious.

But, on the other hand, too many of coincidences were standing in your way in one day. If you knew one thing, it would be that you didn't believe in coincidences.

"Yes, I know, but Ragnar was sick and you know how I am when is time for my husband to come back from raiding." You spoke and placed a cup of hot tea in the table.

When you looked at Torvi, she was still standing. You motioned her to sit opposite of you and she did it.

You didn't speak much of Ubbe, or the state of your marriage, but Torvi knew. Every member of his family knew the truth about you. They just didn't speak about it. Even Ivar, the brother who was known for his poisonous words, didn't say anything ever, at least not when you were around, and you appreciated that.

Torvi didn't answer you. She was just staring the table speechless which was suspicious. It felt like she knew something and she came to you to tell you, but for some reason which you didn't know she was saying it.

"Torvi." You said her name and leaned closer to her, placing your hand closer to hers. Her eyes met yours and at that moment you knew for sure that something was up. "I can sense that something is wrong, tell me what it is." You spoke again and she her eyes left you for once again. "Torvi, tell me." Your tone was firmer.

You saw her tensing and closing her eyes, then opening them again. Torvi took her hand away from yours and you felt even more confused.

"Alright." She wasn't looking at you when she was speaking. Something that felt even worse. "There is something that I assume that you are not aware of and I think that is unfair for you not to know it. Probably, I am not the one to tell you that and maybe it's a mistake the fact that I am here now, but I consider you my sister and I couldn't keep it away from you." She paused for some seconds and before she started speaking her eyes reached yours. "Margrethe, you know Margrethe, right?" She asked you and you felt you mouth turning bitter at the sound of her name.

Of course you knew her. She was the mistress of your husband. The woman – the thrall girl – he loved and wanted to marry and dreamed about being with her, having the family he always wanted with her, but instead Ubbe stuck with you – the woman he despised the most.

"Are you kidding me, right now?" Your voice was more ironic than you wanted or intended it to be, but when it came to that woman you couldn't keep yourself together.

"I assume you do, considering your answer. Anyways, Margrethe is pregnant." She spilled and you felt your blood turning cold inside your veins.

For a couple minutes nothing was sounding. You couldn't think properly, or even form a proper word to say. You were horrified.

"I didn't want to say it so straightforward. I tried—"

"Who is the father?"

Both of you spoke almost at the same time.

Torvi took a deep breath and that was enough as an answer for you.

"It's been said....... she said that....... I mean......." She was trying to say that your husband was the father of her bastard child, but she couldn't find the right words about it and to be honest were there any right words about something like that?

Probably not.

"It's fine. I guessed that Ubbe is the father." You voice was calm, as you intended.

You were upset. You were angry. You felt hurt for some unknown reason. But you kept yourself together. After all, that was all you wished for to happen. Now, after Margrethe's pregnancy, his mother would approve to your divorce. People would understand. You were humiliated but took all you wanted.

Also, the looks and the whispering in the market this same day made sense. Nothing was a coincidence at the end of the day.

"Hey, aren't you happy for me?" You stood up, trying to sound happy, trying to be happy. It was all you wanted all this time and now it felt like Hel. "Torvi, Torvi, Torvi, let's not lie to each other, you know my problems with him. I have always wanted to find a getaway from this nightmare and now I am finally free to live by my own rules, without a person I hate. And wanna know something else? I knew it about them and I fucking told him to impregnate her so the queen would let us divorse. See, that's all I ever fucking wanted." Your voice was bitter and poisonous. At the end of your speech, you turned your back on Torvi and placed your hands on the counter to steady yourself.

When you did that you closed your eyes and refused by that way to let tears fall from your eyes.

"(Y/N), you don't mean that. You are just upset right now, I understand, I totally understand, but—"

"Torvi, leave me alone." You said, trying to be calm, or at least the calmer way you could be. "Please." Your voice almost gave you away. It almost broke and Torvi was clever she knew – even if you refused to admit it even to yourself – that you were hurt.

Torvi did as you asked her too, she left without speaking a word behind her. When you heard the door closing, you let yourself break.

You fall on your knees and cried worse than your baby. You cried gor something you claimed you wanted all the time you were married with this man and after he did what you told him to, you felt awful – betrayed that was it.

Two words came to your mind when you cried. Weak and stupid. That's how you called yourself and you felt that way because what you didn't want to happen and hated to even think about happening, happened. You had developed feelings for him and you hated him for that, even more. You hated that you loved him.

Hvitserk was right. Everything he told you was right, but nothing of that mattered anymore. You should have admitted and tried to do something to save the last pieces of this marriage, but now, there was nothing that could be saved.

Even if you wanted, even if you tried, Ubbe wouldn't want you. She was all he wanted all this time and this baby of hers and now he had it all. His biggest dream was becoming truth.

Your son's loud crying brought back for once more. He was your saviour after all and you owed him for that.

Your hands wrapped around his little body and tried to relax him, but it seemed impossible when you yourself was crying loudly too.

It was just the two of you now – like you craved – and it felt lonely and strange. It felt like a piece was missing and you knew damn well which piece was that. All you wanted was to leave him and live all by yourself with the only person you loved in the world, but now it was different. It was hard to let go of him and your life with him.

Only the thoughts of finally getting freed from this painful marriage made your heart ached.

You couldn't fall for him. Especially not now.

"Your father will be always there for you, Ragnar. He will always love you deeply, after all you are his firstborn son, you carry his legacy the most. It's just that you will have to grow apart from him, but that doesn't change anything. And I – I love you more than anything in this cruel world. You are my only child." You whispered leaving your tears to reach your jaw. As you were speaking, your heands were caressing your son's back and your eyes were closed. Your were trying to calm down both of you. "Also, we won't be that far. You can see him whenever you want. He and I just won't be together." You didn't know whether it was your son the one you wanted to calm with these words, or yourself. "Never forget—"

You didn't get to finish because the door opened and closed loudly and the only thing you were able to do was to turn your back at the person who entered – Ubbe. But you failed to cover your wet face. He had seen.

"What had happened? Is the kid alright?" Ubbe asked and by the sound of his voice and the way he stormed inside the house, you could say that he was upset. You could guess the reason, but you couldn't get the reason he was upset. Your wishes were coming true. You wanted to divorce with him and he wanted to marry the blonde slave girl.

"Yes. He is just a little bit upset." You spoke swiftly and gazed at your son's big blue eyes. He was just looking at you now. You smiled at him and kissed him softly on the forehead. After that, you left him inside his cradle.

"What about you?" His voice came out softer than before and almost startled you. You didn't expect him to state anything about you, it wasn't like him to care about your feelings.

Your eyes met his for the first time after you found out about the girl's pregnancy and after overthinking your complicated feelings about him.

"I will be." You mouthed quickly and walked past him, or at lest you tried to, because the man you wanted to despise like no one and nothing before stopped you by force.

His hand wrapped around your arm violently and made you stop just inches in front of him. You frowned out of anger and looked first at his hand and then at his angry face.

"What is that? You are acting weird again." He pointed out and wanted to laugh out of your frustration.

You wanted to yell — yell like a madwoman — after the news you received and his audacity to want to be treated differently. You couldn't act like anything had happened. Neither you wanted to tell him about it. If he had the guts, he would tell you himself.

"I don't get what you mean. I'm just myself like usual and apparently you are acting like yourself." Your answer and the unphased tone were enraging him more. You notice by the way his grip on your arm was tightening. "Now let me go. I have to teat my son." You tried to escape from his grip, but Ubbe didn't let you. He pulled you even closer to him. You were both pissed at each other.

Well, you weren't just pissed at him. Deep down you were hurt. He had hurt you like always, but this time — unlike all the others — the pain was piercing through your guts. This pain was something you hadn't experienced before.

"I just can't understand you and I'm fucking trying!" Ubbe let go of you and started walking in the house with his hands running through his breaded long hair. "This morning we were alright and now you are back to your annoying self — to that hateful woman who despises everything." After he finished, Ubbe turned to face you. Your face hadn't change a bit after his words.

You could feel wrath in your veins, but something bitter was there too.

"That's what you believe of me, huh? Then wanna know what I believe of you?" That last part wasn't even a serious question. You were going to tell him anyway and you were going to be harsh. "You are just as hateful, but trying to pretend that you are someone else so that people like you. You expect them to love you when you treat your wife worse than the thralls. I should not talk about that matter — your way with the thralls. You wanted to belittle me so much that—"

You stopped yourself there. You couldn't continue. You were indeed becoming hateful. For a moment Ubbe was just staring you without speaking as his words were replaying themselves inside your mind.

You had become as heartless as your father was. You treated Ubbe so low, but he wasn't better.

"That what? Why did you stopped? Maybe you understood yourself that all these nonsense you are speaking are bullshit! I fucking treat you the way you treat to me! I have never wanted to belittle you!" Ubbe was yelling — it was one of the very few times that he was so mad.

But you weren't going to hold back your tongue. You were as mad as Ubbe — if not more. You had crossed the line some times, but he was worse. He cheated on you multiple times and even impregnated his mistress.

When you heard his words, you were the one who run her hands through her hair this time. Instead of yell immediately, at first you formed an ironic smile on your face and the next thing you did was to yell.

"You belittle me every fucking night of those you are back in Norway! You are cheating on me with that slave and you even got her pregnant this time. You humiliated me! Everyone in the market was gossiping about your exploits! All Kattegat knows! If not all Norway!" You were yelling without even thinking of what you were saying. You hadn't even understood that tears were streaming from your eyes all the time you were talking. "But that shouldn't mind me! After all, that's the best reason to divorce you. No one can stop me after this. And, of course, they can't prevent you from marrying her! Go ahead take her, but I inform you; this is the last time you are looking at me and my son." At the end, all you could do was whisper at him. It was pointless.

Your little boy didn't even cry this time, like he could sense that even him couldn't stop you from saying all these. He was just playing with some of the toys inside his cradle.

Ubbe's expression changed after all the poison you let your mouth spit.

"I've never intended to humiliate you or belittle you." His voice this time was softer than you were used to. You had never really talked in calm tones. "When we married we didn't love each other — we married for that alliance. At that moment, I loved Margrethe and I was planning to marry her, yes and yes, I had slept with her, but that stopped when Ragnar was born. Well, to be precise, I had stopped some time before I learned that you were with child."

All this time you had your back turned at him and were trying to stop the tears that were falling mercilessly from your eyes. But when you heard his last words, you wiped away some fresh tears and faced him. Ubbe was calm — it was a rare moment — a beautiful moment.

"I was trying to give in to the feelings I felt for you. The way I had you in my mind when I was at the battlefield. Don't ask me how those feelings were formed — I have no idea. I was thinking of you, knowing that you were praying for me not to return. Those feelings couldn't be replaced by any fight we had. At the end of the day, all that stayed in my mind was one of your rare smiles and the way you care for our son."

Those words were even harder to process them than the news about the child of the slave girl. You couldn't even think that Ubbe would ever form that kind of feelings for you.

His confession made the rock walls of your heart to fall one by one.

"I have never prayed for you to die on the battlefield. I did quite the opposite in fact and it felt strange in my heart. I hated — I told my self to hate you — I was telling myself all the things I hated in you so I could hate you. I felt strange for you — my heart was beating in a strange way as much as I tried to avoid it, it exists, still." You spoke truly without daring to look in his eyes. "But it doesn't matter anymore. Our marriage will end. Those rumours is humiliating enough for me to leave you. If I have enough dignity, I should leave you."

Ubbe tried to reach for you, but you stopped him with a motion of your hand. If things were different, you would stay and try to make this marriage work, but you had no other choice but to leave him.

Taglist: @bruher, @utterlyhopeful-fics, @hypocritic-trash-baby

[olderthannetfic]

The ace asks about how asexuality and being aromantic is increasingly seen to mean "has sex and romance like a normal person" reminds me of the time I accidentally deeply angered an author. She had the tag 'asexual character' in her fic's tags, but since it's a 300k word long fic involving a lot of characters, it wasn't clear who that referred to right away. I left long comments on each chapter, talking about what I liked, sections that hit really hard, lines that I loved, etc., as I always do. (I like to ramble IRL and I can't turn it off even online.) At the halfway point of the fanfic, during a long comment about the OCs that helped flesh out the oft-mentioned but barely explored organizations and companies in the world of canon, I said that I hoped This One Specific OC or That Other Specific OC would turn out to be the asexual character, as I saw in them echoes of myself and a friend of mine (we're both ace).

She had never responded to a comment of mine before, but she did for that one... to yell at me about how the main character OC was aroace, actually. This was apparently supposed to be obvious since the word ace was used in the tie-in prequel fic, which I had held off on reading because the author's note mentioned it would have spoilers if you hadn't read the whole main fic. The character in question has a relationship not remotely different from any of the cishetallo or cisqueerallo relationships presented in the text. She develops a snarky sarcastic friendship with someone she finds visually beautiful and impossible to look away from, gets to know him a little, watches movies with him, they get into urban fantasy danger which they help each other through, they fuck and do so extremely regularly, and she has past exes who she also did all of this with.

And I was, apparently, a bigot with internalized aphobia and negative attitudes towards women who have sex because I didn't look at her and go, "Ah, yes, an aroace!" She informed me I was forcing unrealistic stereotypes no one adhered to onto ace people by thinking aces had to be a certain way and by refusing to see that

Her angry reply was so long it took three AO3 comments to send to me, and it didn't really make me convinced I'd misread the situation. It just made me convinced this wasn't an author I wanted to read more fic from, because 1. this is a lot of anger, holy crap and 2., I really think this is an excusable mistake on my part. I saw no signs this character was in any way different from any other couple in the fic beyond that she and her love interest didn't get to know each other's backstories as much and instead bonded more through experiences they shared, which in my opinion is not something that can be linked to any sexuality or lack thereof.

I feel like there's a moral in here. Like, authors, as a fellow author, I get that it sucks when someone else doesn't see the characters like you do, or misses something you thought was clear, etc. I get that it's frustrating. But don't rip into someone who's been gushing about every chapter of your fic individually just because they didn't catch one thing. I failed to realize one character's sexuality. That's not the same as hating you, the character or the writing.

Mostly I remember that incident as the day I stopped asking questions in my long comments. A sea of gushing does not make up for a mistake and the best way not to make those is to not ask if a tag relates to a character or line.

--

Oof. I mean, sure, there's a diversity of experience. Everything is a spectrum. Yada yadda. But if two labels become entirely indistinguishable, what's the point of even having them, much less getting mad when people can't spot the difference?

[tricksterlatte]

I've always been fascinated by fandom history, and I know I'm not the only one. It's interesting to see how fans of pop culture can create a culture of their own, and in the modern age of social media and the internet in general, that culture is as widespread as ever. Unfortunately, that also means downsides are becoming bigger as this culture becomes widespread, and it's saddening to watch, maybe even concerning.

I don't discuss these things to be preachy, especially considering how I've fallen into several of these pitfalls before, and have perpetuated some of this behavior in the past. To say otherwise would make me a hypocrite and a liar, and I firmly believe this goes for most people in any fandom. I was just thinking about this recently, and how a lot of the biggest stressors in what should be our stress relief really can be pinned mostly into a few central talking points, which I would love to discuss to know if I'm not just going crazy here

The concept of Big Name Fan has evolved into a position of authority on fandom, which does not fall to anyone regarding subjectivity. No one in a fandom is an authority except the creators themselves, who have every right to stay away from the fandoms they have birthed.

Popularity in general being conflated to intellectual authority as well, especially on websites with public stats, particularly following counts. The algorithm is no benevolent god, but people will sometimes see someone with 30k followers and think they are correct on a minor non-issue that has spiraled into discourse, especially when compared to someone with 30 followers. This also is just...a bummer when fanon evolves into perceived canon, and newcomers to the fandom can't post even innocuous meta or headcanons without it being perceived as morally/intellectually incorrect.

Monetization of fanworks, but especially zines, have led to a hypercompetitive atmosphere that only escalates the bitterness and resentment. This is not a universal problem, but many zines across all fandoms habitually accept the same artists and writers, or diminish the value of fanfic due to the limitations of physical printing. The application process has devolved into such a disheartening debacle for a majority of people I see, and the way it is often framed as "your work just wasn't good enough" when it's really about what the mods deem mass marketable will destroy just about anyone's self-esteem after repetitive rejections, and will give some frequent zine runners a false sense of final say over the community (not usually, but it can happen).

The level of distrust for anyone new attempting to start a fan project is just so depressing nowadays (and this one we sadly can blame on a few people by name, but the ones who have sent this issue spiraling still don't care and that just sucks. I feel horrible for everyone who has been tricked).

Somehow comment and anonymous asks have gone backwards from "don't feed the trolls" to "suck it up, at least you're getting comments." I have seen some of these comments people have been told to suck up. It's not okay in general. It's particularly gross when it's an anonymous hate message unrelated to the fanworks themselves, perhaps born out of resentment or bearing an ulterior motive. And some will even attack and defame character due to identity. It's not subtle. It's not okay. People should absolutely be dunked on for this, and I gotta say I'm sick of unsolicited concrit being enforced as positive either. If they didn't ask, don't give it. There's a reason a lot of fic writers some people adore suddenly go ghost, and they can't even talk about it.

Don't like, don't read has been discarded in favor of don't like, tell others don't read and also don't write. Transformative works don't have to fit into a canon or even in character mold. That's why they're transformative! It's a different type of artistic expression. If you don't like it, chances are good it simply wasn't meant for you. It's not bad. Don't shame others, god especially not for non-issues such as a t/b preference or a different gender hc, preferred haircuts, types of animal you imagine them as in another lifetime, I could list literally anything here and I bet there has been a fandom fight over it.

Exclusive yet publicly advertised community Discords that will bar you from invite if you're not one of the cool kids. I have unfortunately fallen into this trap before, and refuse to ever enable or endorse that behavior ever again. This isn't about friend groups either, it's about fandom-dedicated servers that flaunt themselves as a VIP club instead of what they are: a friend group. I also don't even know how to broach the subject of private accounts that turn into fandom tea accounts with dozens if not hundreds of followers, only for people to be angry if someone isn't exactly okay with horrific stuff being said in general, let alone about their mutuals or friends.

I know none of this will likely ever change, and tbh i'm so tired of it all, but...does anyone else know what I mean? I'm stressed out whenever I try to enjoy myself, because popularity and a strange business mindset is steadily taking over fandom spaces. I'm not saying people should stop trying to make stuff that sells, or that people universally do any of this, but fandom is evolving into a thing I'm not sure is good. idk anymore

[myloveforhergoeson]

ash's june 2024 reading round up

find all the books and fics i read this month under the cut with a link to the synopsis and my reviews/ratings attached :)

this is just for fun! i'm not a professional, i just like to read <3

booklist:!

Book Lovers by Emily Henry (18+!)

• big emily henry fan here, i've read most of her other books and i just picked up her new one. this one, in comparison to the other ones i've read, was in my opinion, just kind of middle ground. it wasn't as amazing as i was expecting and it wasn't bad, i just don't think this was the book for me. about a literary agent, nora, and her rival - a brooding editor for a major company she works with, charlie - both being displaced from their big city life and finding themselves in the same small town for the summer. they keep bumping into one another in sunshine falls after a less than fortuitous business meeting in NYC a few years ago and one thing leads to another. turns out charlie isn't actually as bad as she had thought! perhaps i'm just unread in the small town romance genre, but again, this one wasn't really for me. i didn't feel like charlie and nora really had all that much chemistry. i was actually more interested in their lives separate from each other than how they meshed together oddly enough. a lot of henry's books center around family - more specifically familial grief after the death of a parent - and this book was no exception. the detailed descriptions of nora's past, dealing with the death of her mother and needing to step up to take care of her younger sister, hit really close to home for me as an older sister. learning about the course of her life come to a grinding halt and the two of them learning to pick up the pieces together was beautifully done and had major implications for the turning point of charlie and nora's story. nora and libby were the highlight of this book for me - i loved every single scene between them and i almost wish it was just about these two. charlie on the other hand, is a local of this small town and has a sordid past with many of the individuals there. i didn't like his character all that much personally, he felt kind of flat in general to me, but i did think his interactions with the other local characters was very interesting and i liked that nora had a bit of a puzzle to put together as she stayed in sunshine falls. though she accidentally went out with his cousin - yikes! overall, two very detailed stories coming together to form one that i almost wish were two separate books. romance plot in this one didn't really do it for me and that's okay! i still had a good time reading it :)

i'd recommend beach read or happy place by the same author in place of this one.

• rating 3/5 times i wondered why anyone would want to live in a small town over the city...

2. My Roommate is a Vampire by Jenna Levine (18+)

• yeah i know. guys i know. but what can i say. i'm a simple girl with simple taste and i love vampires. this book wasn't groundbreaking of course but it was soooo fucking funny. loved very moment of it! like what do you mean our fmc cassie just moves in with a random guy who has a wonderful apartment and he's super hot and sexy and he talks and dresses like he's from a different time and he tells you there's a part of your apartment you can never go and he sleeps all day and is out all night and she's just okay with it 😭 girl what if he killed you 😭 anyway. mmc fredrick j. fitzwilliam they can never make me hate you. being alive for almost 400 years is tough, especially when you need someone to teach you the modern ways of life after being asleep for the last century! every time the two of them went everywhere and did something i was like rolling in my seat with laughter. trying to pay for coffee at a hipster coffee shop where the drink names don't actually tell you what's inside? where the sizes are named after planetary phenomenons? where he pulls out a velvet sack of coins and tries to pay with dabloons? god guys it was so funny i can't even begin to put my thoughts of this down on paper. they go to a party so he studies pop culture all night and memorizes taylor swift's entire Wikipedia page???? normally i hate t swift being brought up randomly in modern romance novels (happens way too much IMO) but i'm willing to look past it this time. WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE STOPPED A KIDNAPPING USING TIKTOK LIKE???? say what you will about my sense of humor but never in a million years did i guess how this book was ending. fucking hilarious and so entertaining and cassie and fredrick are very cute together. honestly the romance was like b plot for me i just thought he was too silly and wanted to know all about what weird shit fredrick was doing that day. again, not the most enlightening or literary force of nature i've ever read but i did have a very very good time. boo me if you want but i'm right <3

•rating: 4/5 times i wished cassie and fredrick wrote more notes to each other

fic list:

i read a lot i'll try to get them all im so sorry if i missed any but i've read, rb'd, and loved them all!!!

assorted works of @partiallypearl:

just another wide-eyed girl, who's desperately in love with you

keep going to the sunrise (put the car in cruise control)

'cause i can't turn to you when it all falls apart

when you love someone that's all you can do

cargan blurb

running to your heart

no notes literally every single one of these was perfect and i'm so lucky to have the privilege of reading them :) james and elisa have been on my mind so much lately, but i also really loved your other works with rhuben and logan and macie. when you love someone that's all you can do is a work of art i wish i could frame it and put it in a museum <3

• assorted works of @icegirl2772

Take a Shot in the Dark

Better than Neil (a GIFT?? for me???)

We Do (But Friends Don't)

my friend... i love your writing so much!! the new chapter if take a shot in the dark is just wonderful, can't wait to reread and leave my comment hehe. better than neil (along with being such a surprise!!) had so much love and care put into it, each section bouncing off of one another was just genius and reading it made me feel so giddy. james and kaelyn are like handmade to be perfect for each other and that story did so well of highlighting that. and we do (but friends don't) !! don't even have words. i love kaelyn and james so much and this fic makes it so clear how they care for each other and want to be cautious of that while still having fun together :) so much raw trust and honesty on display, it's just an incredible (and spicy!) read :) <3

• assorted works of @ceruleanmusings:

• .3

.4

.5

Mason - Band Dynamics

Big Time Confession

.6

.7

Big Time Double Date

desolation pt 1

desolation pt 2

endearment

omg i don't even have words for this incredible selection of works from this month. all of the mickames blurbs were so adorable, confession literally brought me to tears, double date was just hilarious, and endearment made me smile!!! i love how those all balanced out with the emotion and power tucked into both parts of desolation; the switch up really shows how hard relationships can be, even if they seem easy!, and how two people try and get past even the toughest of times together. loved the openness of difficult conversation and how james and mickey managed that together. it felt so true to real life and literally had my stomach wrenching at points. i was so worried for them, and i'm so happy they're working it out! <3 and i always love reading more about the mason band! i love them!! :))

• assorted works of @selangkir

• the girl time rush au

• jucy (no, not that one) story

ohhh my god again and again and again i read girl time rush. literally like twice a month but this month especially i wanted to highlight it bc it served as inspiration for my own little story hehe <3 stories from the perspective of james just kill me i love him so much and i feel like all three parts of girl time rush encapsulate that perfectly. from dealing with a job he didn't really want, to working behind the scenes, to a tumultuous situationship(? kind of. i don't really know what that word means but it feels appropriate) with dak zevon. god every time i read it i love it even more. and the jucy story... such a wonderful switch up of the real story and how it would affect the characters if things went differently! it was so cute, i loved it so much. can't wait to add it to my reread list <3333

• @cant-get-enough-btr-forever 's story Big Time Battle of the Bands

ahh!! i loved this story so much; the only bad thing was having to wait for the chapters to upload and not getting to read it all at once! i know i said this over and over but it truly read like a big time rush episode - you did such a wonderful job of taking the wackiness from the real show and molding it into something if your own. the battle of the bands was such a fun idea and i loved all of the girls and how they mirrored btr! jessica my beloved... it had it all: action, romance, comedy, i couldn't ask for more!!!!

• assorted works of @raging-violets:

• Around the World and Back

such a wonderful story (inspired by a wonderful song!) that put forth the trouble with touring, what happens when it comes to an end, and the toughness of a goodbye. kendall and riley have such a wonderful dynamic that was put on full display with this one! their promise to keep talking when they can (because talking is what they do best!!) was so adorable and i love that they managed to get through their tough time together :)

i believe that's everything but if i missed something IM SO SORRY!

<3333

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

What do you make of the Zuts who claim that Kataang fans are mean to them? Every ship has toxic fans, so I'm not saying it didn't happen, but the worst vitriol generally seems to come from the ZK side of things and KA fans are more frequently defending themselves (and Aang).

They're absolutely right about the Kataang fandom having it's own bad apples. I have seen some of them attacking Zutara fans, unprovoqued, just for liking a popular fanon alternative to their OTP, which is very childish and pathetic.

Here's the thing though. Like you guys know, while I was never into Zutara, also wasn't always into Kataang. During four of my nearly six years of truly being part of the ATLA fandom, I didn't hate either ship, but I didn't really care for them, and I was not shy about saying it.

And not once did I get death/rape threats or "kill yourself" messages from Kataang fans, not even when I was saying stuff like "I don't think their romance would last" or "I think the show would still work if they were just friends" (and that last point I still agree with). Nor was I told I clearly only didn't like Kataang because I had internalized misogyny or was against interacial relationships - like a cartoon couple could have anything to do with real world issues.

Whenever I read a fic that happened to have Kataang as one of the main pairings (like some fics for Maiko, a ship I always liked), the author never went out of their way to make Zuko, or any other character except sometimes Jet, look like an absolute monster just to make Kataang look better, or force a pairing to happen just to "get Zuko out of the way". Same for the metas about the show.

Whenever I saw fanart or fanfics for ships like Toph X Aang or Haru X Katara, I did not see dozens and dozens of "Ew, gross! Kataang 4ever!" or "This is really pretty, too bad is for an awful pairing, it'd be so much better if it was Kataang instead." Not once was I sent a "Even if you don't ship Kataang, this other ship is just objectively awful" ask just minutes after saying "I don't like Kataang, but I do ship Katara with Haru and even Jet"

Not once was did I ever a Kataang fan repeatedly tell me I should stop writting about my OTP and replace it with Kataang, or write both together, after I had already said I didn't like that ship and was not interested in writting anything except my OTP. Not once was any of metas that were COMPLETELY unrelated to Kataang, often not even mentioning either of the two characters, derrailed into being someone's "If you don't support my ship, you make the story worse" post.

More importantly, I could criticize the bad behavior I DID see from some Kataang fans, and be met with support from other Kataang shippers that were also annoyed at it, instead of having them deny it ever happened, or going "But what about what Zutara fans do?" do deflect, or saying "Don't generalize, we're not ALL like that!" even though that was not what I said.

Meanwhile every single one of these things happened when it came to Zutara fans. Repeatedly. To me, to my friends, to friends or my friends, to people I didn't interact with much, to people I didn't like very much. To people that shipped Kataang, Maiko, Jetara, Toko, etc. For God's sake, these people call the showrunners pedophilies just out of spite for not having their OTP become canon.

The Kataang fandom has bad apples, and like any large group, it can sometimes have TONS of bad apples. But a very big portion of that same fandom clearly doesn't approve of it and tries to keep them in check.

The Zutara fandom meanwhile often seems to go out of it's way to have ONLY bad apples, to the point that I constantly get asks from shippers that say they can't engage with the fandom anymore because people "on their side" are a nightmare to deal with. All because they seem to believe they can bully their way into being canon.

The situations are not at all comparable.

[emeraldhazeart]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you so much for the tag @hikamaus 💚 This looks really fun.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

At this moment, I have 32 works on Ao3 (most of them oneshots)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

At the time of posting this, it's 146,576, but I'm very close to posting the next chapter of Solace

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Mostly Undertale right now, but I also occasionally write for Harvest Moon/Story of Seasons and Sonic the Hedgehog

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Leaving a Mark

2. Robin's Nest

3. Solace

4. In Your Corner

5. Riding Therapy

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I love responding to comments! Even if it's just an emoji, I try to say thank you in reply, so they know I appreciate them taking the time to leave a comment.

I know there are some comments that I haven't gotten round to responding to, and those haunt me. Please know that it's either because I don't have the spoons at this moment, or because it's been so long that I'm shy about replying. But I genuinely do appreciate each and every comment I receive. 💚

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably No Man's Land (which also happened to be my first Undertale fic)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I've got to say Photograph for that one. It still brings tears to my eyes rereading it, but they're happy tears.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No one has said anything directly to me, but I did stumble upon a comment someone left elsewhere saying that one of my fics wasn't their thing because they "[didn't] like how the story is being told".

That really hurt at the time, especially as there was no other context as to why they felt that way. But my friends gave me encouragement and support.

Please be aware that anything you say online can eventually find it's way to the author, so please be kind.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don't, sorry.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really. I've written crossovers featuring characters from separate games in the same franchise before, but nothing that spans entirely different franchises

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I would be delighted if anyone enjoyed my work enough to want to translate it

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I would love to 💚

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Do Canon Character x Reader stories count? No?

Hmm... I can't think of any that would be my OTP. I generally prefer familial/platonic relationships, tbh

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

None of my WIPs are abandoned. But probably most of the original stories I've started and then never finished over the years. It's just much harder for me to maintain motivation when I don't have anyone reading my work and cheering me on.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I've always loved painting a scene or an emotion with words.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oof, so many 😅 one thing I struggle with is wanting to post what I've written straight away. Sometimes that can work, like freshly baked bread. But most of the time it's like a plain cake: it needs time to cool, and then be assembled/decorated/finished in order to get the best experience from it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I'd only do it if I was totally confident that I'd gotten it right. A common or short phrase would be my limit otherwise. If I really wanted to write dialogue in another language, I'd ask someone fluent in the language to help me with the translation and proof read my work.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I think it was actually Legend of Zelda. I was about 12, and my brother, his friend and I made ourselves LoZ Ocarina of Time OCs. We started writing a fic of them, but never got very far.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Probably Photograph. I'm a sucker for a moving reunion scene, and that fic genuinely brought tears to my eyes as I was writing it.

No pressure tags (I'm going to try to avoid tagging anyone that @/hikamaus already tagged 😅) : @sneakyfox55 @hannah-heartstrings @lizzie-tempest @robanilla @thebeckster and anyone else that would like to have a go 💚

[justagalwhowrites]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tag, @sawymredfox!!!

1. how many works do you have on AO3?

21

2. what’s your total AO3 word count?

1,032,269. When you throw in the Tumblr only stuff I think I'm closer to 1.2 million overall.

3. what fandoms do you write for?

Pedro Pascal fandom, mostly TLOU! But I'd love to spend some time with Poe Dameron, my beloved, so I might dive into Star Wars beyond Mando at some point :)

4. top five fics by kudos 

I'm really not sure on Tumblr? Individual chapters don't get as much attention and I don't write many one shots, my highest single post on Tumblr is probably a one shot but I have NO CLUE which one!

On AO3:

Lavender

Beskar Doll

Yearling

New in Town

Lavender No Outbreak AU

5. do you respond to comments?

I used to be so much better about doing this and I've just not been keeping up with it lately. I want to get back to it! I LOVE getting comments, they make me so happy! Part of my issue is I read them immediately even if I don't have time to respond and I'm like "I'll respond when I post the next chapter" and then I post the next chapter super late at night and I'm so tired and I'm just like "I'll reply later" and then I never do.

ANYWAY! I want to get back to replying to comments because I love them. I used to reply to every one. Less now.

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Proof of Life, an angsty as hell QZ!Joel era one shot. I traffic in angst but I like my happy endings, especially for long fics :)

7. what’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Lavender I think. After all that angst, they got the life they wanted and saved the world. Not too shabby.

8. do you get hate on fics?

I haven't really! I've had a few people disagree with directions I took characters or plot lines and a few people send asks that didn't feel so nice but I'm not sure they were intended to not be nice. I try to not take those things personally. But everyone as been exceedingly kind, probably kinder than I deserve!

9. do you write smut?

I do but I feel like it's my weakest area. If you're looking primarily for smut and reading my stuff, you're probably in the wrong place, I'm sorry! I wish I was better at it! I feel like I'm getting better at it. But alas!

10. craziest crossover?

I haven't written any and I haven't really read any, either. Closest thing I came to a crossover I think is tying the prequel trilogy and the original trilogy of Star Wars into Doll's history in Beskar Doll.

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

None so far!

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

Not shared anywhere but I do have commenters in other languages tell me they've put my fic into Google Translate to read it! I think that's immensely cool .

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

I haven't but I'd be open to it! 

14. all time favorite ship?

Of characters that actually exist in canon? Probably Han Solo and Leia Organa. I LOVE them. Love love love love LOVE them. The "I love you" "I know" in Empire followed by the reversal in Jedi? TO DIE FOR.

15. what’s a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

As far as fics go? None. I have the stories so thoroughly planned there I'm compelled to finish them, I can't help it. I wasn't always this thorough of a planner, though, and I have so many books that I've started and written like 40k words of that I'll probably never finish. That breaks my heart a little. All these characters who won't get to live their whole lives because I can't get their stories across the finish line. But I'm not sure I have enough hours left in the rest of my life to tell every story I've got inside me so it'll have to be what it will be!

16. what are your writing strengths?

Dialogue.

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

Everything else lol especially smut. I feel like my descriptions are often lacking, too.

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

Yes please! As long as the author can do it right (either because they know the language enough or get help from someone who does - the translate tools just aren't great at grammar and it takes me out if it's a language I know.)

19. first fandom you wrote in?

The Pedro fandom! Specifically, the Mandalorian. Beskar Doll, my first baby <3

20. favorite fic you’ve written?

Probably Lavender? Maybe Yearling. It's so hard to say! I'm probably the most attached to Doc and Joel, though.

NP tags: @dancingtotuyo @beardedjoel @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @netherfeildren and anyone else who wants to play!

[pipermca]

Resonance

Author's note: I am not sure what to do with this story. It's a prequel to a fic that I haven't started posting yet, starring some very minor characters from that story. 😅 But my brain wanted to work on this, so I let it, and this is what came out. However I don't want to post it to AO3 yet because I need it to be a bit separate from the main fic until that one is well underway.

I'm posting this here just to have it down someplace. That way it's out of my hair. Once I start posting the longer, main story, I'll clean this up again and post it to AO3.

Enjoy. :)

Title: Resonance

Rating: PG for descriptions of violence

Tags: Bluestreak/Hound, Bluestreak & Smokescreen, Continuity soup, Post-apocalypse, Soulmate AU

Word count: 5100

Every sensor in Bluestreak's haptic net was tingling. Or that's what it felt like, anyway. And when he attempted to ignore the constant pings from his sensors, all he could feel was his fuel pump thudding away in his chest, or how loud his ventilation systems had become. So instead he put all of his focus on following Smokescreen, and stepping as quietly as he could. But the scattered gravel and broken glass crunching under their pedes sounded like fireworks, and he winced at every stray sound they made.

Bluestreak was so intent on moving as stealthily as he possibly could that he ran into Smokescreen's left sensor wing when he stopped.

"Eep!" Bluestreak squeaked, then clapped a hand over his mouth, his optics wide.

Smokescreen reached out a hand to steady Bluestreak as he reeled backwards. "Good job staying close," he said quietly. He smiled and patted Bluestreak on the shoulder. "But maybe leave just a bit more following distance next time."

"I'm sorry!" Bluestreak whispered, flattening his sensor wings against his back.

"It's all right. Just let me peek down there, and if I don't see anything I'll let you know." Smokescreen pulled out his weapon and slipped into the darkened building they'd been heading towards.

Bluestreak crouched down beside the doorway. He pulled out his own weapon and held it ready, his thumb nervously caressing the trigger. He looked up the street, then down the street, then up above him, over and over. Left. Right. Up. Left. Right. Up.

He hated this. He hated everything about this. They had been forced to venture further and further from their shelter to look for fuel and other supplies, creeping into places where they knew the Quintessons had been seen. There hadn't been any sightings of prosecutors in a few weeks, but with communications down and the city in ruins, they had no way of knowing whether the aliens were just hiding around the next corner. They'd also run into bots like themselves, people just trying to scrape by with what they could find. Most of them had been friendly, and shared information and fuel with them. But others had not been friendly at all.

He felt lost. He felt like they were on their own. Even Primus didn't seem to give a scrap about what happened to them.

As soon as Bluestreak had that thought, he cringed internally and offered up a silent prayer of apology. He knew that there were some things even Primus couldn't fix.

Bluestreak was completing his fourteenth visual sweep of the ruined street when Smokescreen reappeared in the doorway. "It's clear. C'mon," he said, and Bluestreak followed him inside.

Like most of the other stores they'd searched today, this one looked like it had already been looted of anything useful. But Bluestreak started opening cabinets and boxes anyway, hunting for anything they could take. "I don't think we're going to find anything here, Smokey," he said. "This is a waste of time." He knew he sounded petulant. He didn’t care anymore.

"Maybe there's something in the back," Smokescreen said. With a sigh, Bluestreak followed him through the doorway into the rear of the store.

As expected, there wasn't much in the back of the store, either. Bluestreak found a packet of rust crisps in the drawer of a desk, and Smokescreen found five small datapads. He pulled the battery cells from them and slipped those into his compartments. Then he jerked his head towards the back door. "Let's head back up the alley and see if there's any places we missed on this stretch."

He had just come through the door to the alley when Bluestreak saw it: a long black tentacle dangling from the sky above them. Reflexively, he swung his gun up and fired, severing the tentacle so that it fell onto the ground in front of them.

Dropping into a crouch, Bluestreak skittered back into the safety of the doorway, waving his gun back and forth above him, looking for the rest of the prosecutor. Or worse, rest of its argument. But all he could see above him were the bombed-out and crumbling towers that sat above the retail space.

"Where'd it go? Where'd it go?" Bluestreak hissed.

Something touched his shoulder. Bluestreak yelped and spun around. His finger twitched on the trigger, and fired before his processor even registered what he was shooting at...

Smokescreen.

Smokescreen's hand closed firmly around Bluestreak's wrist. "Maybe we're done for today," Smokescreen said quietly, and glanced at the hole in the wall right beside his head.

"Oh. Oh!" Bluestreak dropped his weapon, wincing again as it clattered to the ground. "Oh Primus Smokey, I'm so sorry!"

Smokescreen picked up Bluestreak's gun and tucked it into his compartments. "I'm fine," he said. He gave Bluestreak a smile, but this time it looked forced. "But we should go before someone – or something – comes to see what that noise was."

"The prosecutor!" Bluestreak whirled around again to look at the tentacle he'd just severed from the prosecutor.

Except there was no tentacle. Instead, a length of wires, wrapped with black insulation, lay on the alley floor. One end was torn and bent, obviously ripped from its connector, while the other end was smoking and melted from Bluestreak's blaster shot.

"I thought..." Bluestreak walked a step, then two, into the alley to nudge the cabling with the tip of his pede. "I thought it was..."

"I know. And I understand," Smokescreen said. He put his hand on Bluestreak's shoulder again, this time telegraphing his movements carefully. "It's starting to get late. Let's get back home."

***

Bluestreak sat with his back to a corner with his head buried in his arms. He hoped that if he made himself small enough, no one would notice him there. Inside his chest, it felt like his spark was singing a mournful dirge.

Everything was broken: his job, his life, his planet. Nothing was right. And nothing he did was making anything better.

Maybe he could just put himself into stasis. Someone could wake him up when the world had fixed itself again. But for now, he just wanted to be left alone.

At the sound of a pede scraping the ground purposefully, Bluestreak sighed. He should have known.

"Skyfall found three whole cases of Nukecool. I grabbed a bottle for us to share," said Smokescreen's voice.

"I don't want it."

A pause. "Are you sure? It's the good kind, with the red label. You always told me how much you really liked this flavour."

"You can have it."

Another pause. "Are you all right?"

Bluestreak's reply was sharper than he meant it to be, but who cared? Everything was broken. Maybe he could break his last remaining friendship, too. "No."

Smokescreen slid down the wall to sit next to Bluestreak, and set a bottle down beside him. Bluestreak didn't have to look up to know that Smokescreen was looking at him with that intent expression he always had when he was listening fully and attentively. "Did you want to talk about it?"

"You can't psychoanalyze me out of feeling like... this," Bluestreak said.

"No," said Smokescreen agreeably. "But I can still listen."

"What's the point of talking about how absolutely fracked we are?" Bluestreak lifted his head and looked up at the ceiling of the half-crumbled transport tunnel they were taking shelter in. He gestured with both of his hands, taking in the shadowy walls, the small piles of gathered supplies, and the groups of bots huddled here and there among the scavenged crates. "You've lived through the same things I have. The Quintessons arriving. The attack on the Senate. Praxus losing comms with the rest of the planet, then the invasion coming here, and-" Bluestreak's voice cut off in a warble of feedback, so he shook his head and looked at Smokescreen. He didn't care if his friend saw the streaks of coolant that had been running down his cheeks.

"I definitely remember," Smokescreen said quietly.

"Yeah." Bluestreak blinked several times, trying to clear the image of the Quintesson prosecutors' tentacles smashing through doors and windows of the shops on his street, and dragging out the people they found inside. Bluestreak could still hear the screams of those they took. He remembered watching Treadlight, the paint specialist across the street, get pulled into a prosecutor, shrieking in terror. He remembered scuttling from building to building, trying to avoid the squads of allicons roaming the city. He could still smell the acrid burnt metal of corpses who had been shot in the back as they ran. "And now... I almost killed the only friend of mine I know who's still alive."

"You didn't. I'm still here."

"But I could have! I almost did!" Bluestreak glared at Smokescreen. "So no. I am not 'all right.'"

Smokescreen was silent. When Bluestreak glanced away again, Smokescreen put his arm around Bluestreak's shoulders. "I am sorry. I didn't mean it like that. How about... Are you going to be all right for the moment? Right this second?"

Bluestreak grunted, realizing what Smokescreen was angling for. "Yeah. I guess. I'm not going to start screaming for the Quintessons to come finish us off, like Padlock did." He directed his glare at the ground in front of his pedetips, but leaned into Smokescreen's embrace. "I just feel useless like this, jumping at everything."

"You're not useless," Smokescreen said. "You're really observant. You're good at spotting things that others have missed. You're an excellent shot." When Bluestreak just grunted again, Smokescreen patted his shoulder. "And you're not the only one who's struggling." With his other hand, Smokescreen gestured at the other bots in the tunnel with them. "Everyone here is going through something. No one's been spared. So, you aren't alone in feeling like this."

Bluestreak looked around. Scattor was sitting with a group, but rocked back and forth muttering to himself. Evac stood by the tunnel entrance on guard duty, but flicked his rotors at every little sound. Windrazor sat alone like he always did, staring off into space just like he had ever since his spark resonant was killed. Every single bot in the shelter looked haunted in some way or another.

"I know," Bluestreak said with a sigh. "Thank you for that little reality check."

"Here," Smokescreen said, and handed Bluestreak the red bottle. "This might help, too."

Bluestreak accepted the bottle, and made a small sound of surprise. "It's cold!"

Smokescreen grinned. "Yeah. Glyph broke out some of the chill packs for this. I think it was worth it."

With a happy sound, Bluestreak took a big swig from the bottle. He savoured the familiar flavour, rolling it around in his intake. He sighed happily, then handed the bottle back to Smokescreen. "And what about you? How are you holding up?" When Smokescreen did not immediately reply, Bluestreak added, "You're always so... steady. And I really appreciate that. But you're struggling too, right?" Bluestreak waited while Smokescreen took a drink from the bottle. "But if you need to unload on me, you can."

Smokescreen tipped his head back and rested it on the wall behind him. "All I can think about is how nothing is ever going to be the same," he said. He stared up at the ceiling, expressionless. "Even if the Quints left tomorrow, so much is destroyed now. Buildings. The city. People. And who knows how bad things are outside of Praxus." He closed his optics. "It seems so unreal to me that just a few months ago, everything seemed normal. We knew that the Quints had arrived and there were some negotiations happening in Iacon, but... That was so far away. It was just news and politics. Who cared?" He opened his optics again and looked down at Bluestreak. "That last night, I dragged you out to that horrible movie-"

Bluestreak laughed at the memory. "That was really bad."

"I am sorry. Barricade suggested it. He said that his partner Prowl had really liked it. I should have known better than to trust his judgement about anything art related," Smokescreen said with a grin, then sobered again. "I wonder where they are. I hope they're both all right." He sighed, then continued. "After the movie, we went to The Rusty Strut for drinks, and I remember we got out of there way too late..."

"I was late opening my shop the next day," Bluestreak said.

"Like I said, way too late. And that morning there was news about the attacks in Iacon. Then something about the Senatorial Guard getting decimated. That afternoon, planetary-wide comms went down. And then that evening, just a few hours later..." He shook his head. "Like I said, I can't believe it's only been a few months."

Bluestreak shuddered, and Smokescreen fell silent.

After a few minutes, Smokescreen patted Bluestreak's shoulder again. "Did you want to sing a hymn together?" When Bluestreak sat up and stared at him in surprise, Smokescreen shrugged. "I hear you humming them sometimes, especially when you're feeling really stressed."

"A hymn?" Bluestreak narrowed his optics. "You don't have a religious circuit in your entire frame," he said.

"No. But you do. And if it'll help you feel better, I'm willing to give it a go. Who knows, maybe it'll help me relax, too," Smokescreen said. Then he smiled. "But be forewarned, I am a horrible singer."

With a quiet laugh, Bluestreak said, "That's all right. Primus doesn't care how good of a singer you are. He just cares what's in your spark." He thought for a moment, then said, "Do you know the words to Gather the Sparks? That's the one I think I hum the most."

"Nope," Smokescreen said. "But if you sing it through once, I'll join in the second time around."

***

Bluestreak did not know whether it was the bottle of his favourite drink, or singing a calming hymn, or talking with Smokescreen the previous night that had done the trick, but he definitely felt better in the morning.

Things still felt pretty dire, of course. The shared rations were still slim. Everyone still looked like they were on edge, except for Windrazor, who was still in shock after the loss of his spark resonant. At least Skyfall seemed to be able to get him to take some fuel once in a while.

But this morning, Bluestreak's spark felt lighter. The future didn't seem so dark, somehow. Even the colours of the early morning sky seemed more vivid.

The whole world felt more hopeful.

Smokescreen noticed Bluestreak's new attitude, of course. He had always been tuned into his friends' emotions like that. When Bluestreak didn't have a good explanation for why he was feeling better, Smokescreen shrugged. "I'm just glad to see you smiling again, a real smile this time," Smokescreen said, slapping his friend on the back. "I missed that."

Bluestreak ducked his head, but felt his smile broaden. "Me too."

They were just discussing where they should start their scavenging run for the day when Stakeout tore into the shelter, his tires sending up bits of glass and gravel as he braked.

"What's wrong?" Evac asked, his rotors flaring outwards. He peered down the tunnel. "Are you being chased? Is it Quintessons?"

"No!" Stakeout said, transforming. He looked... Well, he looked elated, an expression that Bluestreak hadn't seen the dour Enforcer wearing before this. "It's the army! They're here! They're setting up a triage center with fuel and doctors and shuttles and everything else in Lucent Plaza." He laughed. "I think we can finally get out of here!"

As excited voices rose around them, Smokescreen spoke over the noise. "Wait... What army? Last we heard the Senatorial Guard got wiped out, and we all saw what happened to the Civil Defense here. Who is actually down in the plaza?"

Stakeout shook his head. "I don't know. The livery on the shuttles is all different. Some of them have Senatorial Guard emblems, some have Vosian insignia, and I saw at least one with a mining company logo. But I saw the people myself, and they're Cybertronians, not Quints."

Smokescreen pulled Bluestreak aside while Evac and the others started making plans to get everyone to the plaza. "Maybe I've just been too stressed for too long, but..." He sighed, a frown twisting the corners of his mouth downwards.

Bluestreak felt the same excitement in his spark that the others in their hideout were expressing, but Smokescreen's frown tempered his reply. "What is it? Do you think that the Quintessons might be using Cybertronians to lure people in just to capture them?" Bluestreak asked.

"Something like that," Smokescreen said with a small smile. "Am I being too paranoid?"

"Maybe a little. Usually being paranoid my job," Bluestreak said, returning Smokescreen's smile. Bluestreak flicked his wings. "But to be safe, let's not go rushing down there. Let's go scope it out first, and then we can decide what to do."

The drive to the plaza was mostly clear, although they needed to detour around two destroyed bridges. They approached from the east, circling to the top of the Torus Bridge that overlooked the plaza.

Even though Bluestreak had felt more and more happy as they'd gotten closer to the plaza, he paused at the top of the bridge and scanned the horizon carefully. Even bombed out like they were, the tall towers of Praxus could still be hiding any number of the smaller ships that the Quintessons used. But the two larger ships, the ones that had hung in the air like coiled razorsnakes over the city for months, were nowhere to be seen.

Bluestreak's elation ratcheted upwards once more.

In the large plaza below them, a dozen shuttles were parked, with bots streaming into the plaza from all directions. It looked like organized chaos, with some bots directing weary Praxian residents where to go, while others helped bots form neat queues in front of various tables. Obviously injured bots were being escorted to one of the ships, while more bots circulated handing out what looked like energon cubes.

All Bluestreak could feel now was an insistent urge to be down there, in the plaza. It felt like an almost visceral pull on his spark.

Smokescreen's sensor wings tipped upwards. "Is it me, or do a lot of the bots down there have the Prime's insignia on their shoulders?"

Bluestreak squinted, then gasped when he confirmed what Smokescreen had seen. "They are! It's the Wing of the Prime! And can see a few Hand members, as well."

"I thought the Hand of the Prime was just... I dunno, protection from paparazzi," Smokescreen said. "And the Wing is just clerics and curates. The Prime is just a religious leader. He doesn't have an army."

"Well, yeah. But maybe they've been, I dunno, training for something like this." Bluestreak gestured at the motley array of vehicles in the plaza. "And they obviously have some help, right?" His wings quivered behind him as he peered at Smokescreen. "Do you believe now that they aren't really Quintessons trying to trick us into getting ourselves captured?"

"Yeah. I believe it now." Smokescreen backed away from the edge of the bridge. "And I can practically feel you vibrating with excitement. Let's get you down there before you blow a relay," he added with a laugh.

The pull on Bluestreak's spark got even more insistent when they entered the plaza. A red-plated truck waved them down at the perimeter path. "Do you need medical care, or fuel?" he asked. His shoulders bore the insignia of the Prime's Hand.

"No. We're fine, thankfully," Smokescreen said. "Honestly we're just looking to get out of here." He glanced skyward. "Are the Quints really gone?"

The red bot gave a half shrug. "They peeled out of here about a week and a half ago. No idea why. We waited to make sure they were really gone before moving in." He gestured at the ships. "As soon as we were sure, the Prime gave us orders to get as many people to safety as we can. If there are more here than we can carry, we'll call for more ships. But we will get everyone who wants to leave out."

"Where to?" Smokescreen asked.

"We've got a couple of bases set up, places where we can regroup and figure out how to fight back." The red-plated guard pulled himself to his full height. "We're gonna take Cybertron back from those squidbrains, one way or another."

Bluestreak listened to the exchange impatiently, scanning the crowd behind the Prime's guard. He didn't want to leave, not yet. What he wanted to do was drive through the crowd. He wanted to see all the people here.

...Which was weird. Bluestreak normally hated crowds. As Smokescreen thanked the guard, Bluestreak shook his head to clear that thought. Seeing everyone here was more important than his dislike of crowds.

The moment Smokescreen turned away from the guard, Bluestreak grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, into the crowd.

"Whoa, Blue, where are we going?" Smokescreen asked. "The bot back there said that the signups for an evacuation flight are over that way."

"I want to go this way," Bluestreak said, his optics scanning bots they passed. He wasn't sure what - or who - he was looking for. All he knew was that he'd know them when he saw them.

Smokescreen laughed. "You're acting like you found your spark resonant or something."

Bluestreak barely even heard Smokescreen as he wove around groups of bots, tables of supplies, and ramps of shuttles. He knew that this was the direction he needed to go in to find...

...? What was he looking for?

Bluestreak slowed as they circled around the landing gear of a squat, utilitarian transport. As they came out the other side, his optics landed on a boxy green truck. The truck was helping a blue Vosian load boxes into the bed of a hauler.

When he stopped and looked up, the truck's gaze met Bluestreak's immediately.

He had the bluest optics Bluestreak had ever seen. And when he smiled, Bluestreak's processor could only catalogue the way it made the truck's optics crinkle up at the corners, and how kind it made him look, and how much Bluestreak wanted to have that smile directed at him forever and ever.

Bluestreak was suddenly standing in front of the green bot. He didn't remember walking over to him.

Smokescreen was talking to someone behind him. "I'm sorry, I know we're probably not supposed to be back here, but my friend-"

"I'm sure we can help you out," said another voice. "And I think I know what's going on." Bluestreak assumed it was the Vosian talking. But that wasn't important now.

"I know you, I think," the green bot said. His voice thrilled Bluestreak's audials, as though he'd always wanted to hear this voice in particular. The green bot held out his hand, and Bluestreak reflexively reached out his own. "I'm-"

Their hands touched.

As soon as their fingers made contact, something surged inside Bluestreak's spark. The excited twirl that his spark had been doing all morning suddenly swirled into a dance, weaving a complex design with another, matched spark. From that dance rose a song, a joyful anthem of celebration. And for each note that Bluestreak's spark sang, the harmony was sung by its mate.

"Oh," said the green bot softly. His smile grew, as did the brightness of his optics.

That single word sent Bluestreak's spark into another burst of radiant joy.

Smokescreen was saying something, but Bluestreak wasn't listening. He wanted the green mech to speak again.

"I'm Bluestreak," he said.

"Hound," said the green bot, his optics not leaving Bluestreak's. "I'm Hound."

"I'm so happy I found you," Bluestreak said, but those words didn't feel adequate to describe how he was actually feeling: the rapturous elation of finally finding what he didn't know he was missing his whole life.

"Same. Yeah, I feel the same," Hound said. "All morning I've been... I mean, I felt something that..." Bluestreak could feel him – his name was Hound! – fumbling for words, and he felt a surge of sympathy for him.

"Did you seriously just find out you have a resonant?" Smokescreen said. With an effort, Bluestreak peeled his gaze away from Hound to look at his friend. Smokescreen was smiling and shaking his head. "Only you would discover your sparkmate in the middle of a warzone."

The blue Vosian touched Smokescreen's shoulder. "Let's give them a little while to get acquainted," he said, and he winked at Hound.

"Thanks, Thundercracker," Hound said, not looking away from Bluestreak for a moment.

Bluestreak looked back at Hound, and was lost in his optics once more.

***

"You mentioned you had a shop here. What did you sell?"

"I'm a glass smith, and I sold the art I made, along with some other stuff."

"Art? Like what?"

"Oh, mostly glass pieces for decoration. You know, stuff like sparklers and window spinners, but I also did a lot of custom works for bots to have installed. Have you see those taillights some people have, with the internal prisims? I made those first, before they got really popular."

"Those were yours? That's amazing! They look so neat!"

"Thanks! I was pretty proud of them," Bluestreak said, and shifted closer to Hound. He was finally able to look away from his spark mate (wow, what a weird thing to think, that he had an actual spark resonant) at the bustle of bots working around them. After recovering from the initial shock of discovering each other, both Bluestreak and Hound wanted to help unload supplies or organize the medical queues – something to help the effort. But Smokescreen and Thundercracker (the Vosian who had been working with Hound) told them to sit and take a little time to get to know each other better, and Smokescreen offered to take Hound's place for a while. Neither Bluestreak nor Hound argued too loudly about that, since getting to work meant not touching each other.

Hound turned and looked at Bluestreak again. Every time he did that, he looked as though he was surprised to see him sitting there. "So, did you ever think you might have a resonant?" Hound asked.

"Sure, I thought about it," Bluestreak said. "Who hasn't? I've seen the same romances as everyone else. It's appealing, thinking you might have someone out there who's your perfect match." He rubbed his hand up Hound's arm, feeling the slight texture in his matte finish. They hadn't stopped touching each other ever since their first meeting; there was something about keeping that contact that made Bluestreak's spark sing even louder. He leaned into Hound's side as he kicked his pedes back and forth over the edge of the crate they were sitting on. "But resonants are so rare and so... I dunno, almost mythical, something that happened to other people, that it was more of a fun fantasy than thinking I might actually have one. Of course, I did eventually make a trip down to Greater Monoplex, just to see if I could feel anything. But aside from the excitement of being on a trip to a place I'd never been, I didn't feel anything odd. Maybe we just didn't get close enough or something."

Hound listened patiently as Bluestreak rambled on, waiting until Bluestreak finished before replying. "When did you go to Monoplex?"

"Oh... It must have been about thirty or forty quartexes ago." Bluestreak smiled. "I needed to save up for the trip."

"I was called to serve Primus about seventy quartexes ago. That was in Sentinel Prime's service, of course," Hound said. Hound's fingers curled around and under and through Bluestreak's as he talked, tangling and untangling their fingers over and over, just like he'd been doing since they first sat down. Hound smiled and shrugged. "I wanted to come to Praxus, eventually, just to see, but... Other things seemed to be more important. And like you said, resonants are so rare. I never once thought that I might actually have one."

"We were both so wrong," Bluestreak said. He flicked his sensor wings upwards as he added, "And hey, if you're in the Wing, just think! Since you've got a resonant, you might be the next Prime, and I could be your Protector!"  But as soon as the words left Bluestreak's vocalizer, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Even if he couldn't have sensed the horror and distress and do not want he was feeling from Hound's spark, the expression on Hound's face would have made him back up immediately. "Oh, Hound, it's just a joke. I'm joking! I'm sorry," he said, squeezing Hound's arm tighter. "I wouldn't know the first thing about being a Protector."

Hound nodded and relaxed, both in body and spark. "I can feel that now," Hound said. He smiled. "This is going to take some getting used to, especially as we get to know each other." He started twining his fingers around Bluestreak's again: over, under, through. "But I have no doubts about your ability to be a Protector. It's the thought of losing the current Prime that made me..." He shuddered in Bluestreak's embrace.

"Have you met him?" Bluestreak asked quietly. He remembered seeing the ceremonies and celebrations when the new Prime was selected by the Matrix. When Hound nodded, Bluestreak asked, "What's he like?"

"He is kind, and intelligent, and thoughtful," Hound said. "When you talk to him, you can tell that he really cares about every single bot on this planet, whether they believe he is the voice of Primus or not." Hound looked around the plaza and at all of the bots there: those of the Prime's Hand and Wing, and the survivors they had come to help. "This was all his doing. He wanted to make sure we rescued as many bots as possible from places where the Quintessons have been. Without his leadership, pulling together disparate forces from all over the planet, none of this would have happened."

"I hope I get to meet him some day," Bluestreak said.

Hound smiled at him, sending another swirl of joy through Bluestreak's spark. "Well, I'll need to report back to the Master of Songs when we return to Tyger Pax," Hound said. "After that, if you stick with me, I can definitely introduce you to Megatronus Prime."

Bluestreak leaned his head on Hound's shoulder, watching the bustling around them. "I'd like that," he said. "And I have every intention of staying by your side for as long as I live, now that I finally met you."

"Nothing would make me happier," Hound said softly.

THE END

Look for this fic's sequel in The Prime and His Protector, coming to AO3 sometime soon!

[metisket]

book recs request ❤🖤❤🖤 🙏🙏🙏 in this case, book recs that you feel have inspired your writing style, or inspired your fics somehow?

Hmmm...this is a fun one but a tough one, because I'm not sure I'm really self-aware enough to know the true answer here. But I'll try! A lot of books/authors I believe shaped my writing style did it when I was pretty young, so we're getting some YA over here.

Robin McKinley

I must have read The Outlaws of Sherwood a dozen times between ages 10 and 15. I love me a hero who literally doesn't want to be here and got conned into this by pushy, well-meaning friends. Marian was the most badass Marian I'd ever encountered. Random, complicated, weird side-characters, my beloved. Cecily somehow speaking directly to whatever was unhinged about my own childhood feelings about my gender. Flawless, 10/10, should really re-read to see if it holds up.

This is not to minimize the ridiculous number of times I read The Hero and The Crown, The Blue Sword, Beauty, and Deerskin, because I also read them So Many Times that they've probably become a part of my psyche. Literally none of her heroes want to be heroes. But they've been informed that they are. Apparently. Ugh. Love to hate that for them.

Lloyd Alexander

I also re-read The Chronicles of Prydain at least once a year for many years. It has almost certainly messed with my mind. I was especially unhinged about The Castle of Llyr, because Princess Eilonwy. The best, the worst, the angriest princess. Love and respect. Taran I could take or leave, particularly during his Taran Wanderer phase (I was less sympathetic to his growing pains than I was to Eilonwy's), but The High King was a fantastic payoff, loved everything, no notes.

...Damn, I need to reread this series, also.

Lois McMaster Bujold

I didn't read The Vorkosigan Saga until college, but it immediately hit my brain hard. Fantastic characterization. The way she writes trauma and recovery from trauma, amazing.

Miles. What a character. What a mess. What a problem. He is only a little guy, literally and figuratively, and he's going to do his best to convince you that he didn't mean to offend that guy, set that building on fire, or end that empire. You know. Like a liar.

Sarah Rees Brennan

My number one fanfic influence--her style of writing is so delightful that, particularly when writing Harry Potter fic, I'd sometimes find myself paraphrasing her. I had to Sarah Rees Brennan-proof my fic to make sure I wasn't being an accidentally plagiarist, because her turns of phrase would just go subliminal in my brain. This honestly may still be happening, and if it is, I'm so sorry, Sarah, it's not on purpose.

My favorite of her books is In Other Lands, the story of a boy who is whisked away to magic school in magic land and is extremely annoyed to find himself there. Like why. Why is the plumbing medieval. Why don't phones work. Why is this magical Sparta.

...He's not wrong, is the thing. But he won't bend and he won't break and he won't leave, so apparently he's just going to have to fix the world himself. God help everyone! Love him. Love his friends. Love the entire world and setup and every single side character.

Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

I have been informed that you can see the Pratchett and Gaiman influences in my writing. I think this is a lie people have told me to make me feel better, but you know, I Want To Believe. So I'll include them.

Pratchett: Love for virtually the entire Discworld series, with an especially fondness for the Watch books and Susan. Still obsessed with Vetinari after all these years. What if Machiavelli but chill, though.

Gaiman: Lost track of how many times I've reread Sandman. The characters, the coolness, the weirdness, the meta! Especially obsessed with Death. Just someone being very calm and collected in the face of all kinds of horrifying nonsense. I admire that. Love nearly all of his books, but my favorite is probably Anansi Boys. Bet your stupid family drama doesn't involve gods. Or at least. I hope it doesn't.

Erin Morgenstern

I'm cheating by including her, because she didn't actually influence my writing, I just WISH SHE HAD. She can't, sadly, because my outline game will never be that strong. I know my limits. But DAMN. ENVY.

Both of her books are without flaw, but I did love The Night Circus just that little bit more, probably because I am weak to a circus. I firmly recommend The Starless Sea also, though, because it features an Unhinged Library. The characters and settings and descriptions--delightful.

But the best part is the WAY the stories are told. They're not chronological--they're like little intricate puzzle-boxes, where you open one panel, and there's a story, and you open another panel, and there's a different story, and by the fifth panel, there's a story that connected to the first panel, but also a little to the third panel, and--

LOOK, I CAN'T EVEN DESCRIBE IT. It should be confusing, but it isn't. It's perfect. Just the right amount of information at the perfect time connecting to other pieces of information in a complex, interesting, deeply satisfying way. I would kill to be able to do this. Kill. I actually tried to do this in 'Mirror Image', and I had to give it up, because the level of incoherence was off the charts. ffffffffffff howwwww does she dooooo eeeeeet.

Anyway, I think those are the big ones. Special mentions to: Tom Holt, a deeply weird writer who strongly influenced one fic in particular (Some Confusion, DGM), Patricia C. Wrede, because Dealing with Dragons in general and Cimorene in particular got to me, and Dennis Lehane, because a) his historical fiction is inspiring, and b) I love his handling of The Unhinged Friend in the Patrick and Angie books. The best unhinged friend. He booby traps his own home. Love him. What is wrong with him? We'll never know.

[variety-fangirl]

Till Your High is Gone / Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Part 2 here

Summary: High Rafe is completely different to sober Rafe, and you wished he wasn't.

Warnings: 18+ NO MINORS Rafe is a warning 🥴 😂 Angst! Brief mentions of smut, the morning after, mentions of drugs and alcohol use, toxic re-occurring relations, and the reader being in love with Rafe. Let me know if I missed anything!

Author's note: inspired by Noah Cyrus's song Mr. Percocet, felt it fit really well with Rafe's character. My first fully angst fic (a one-off). Liking, reblogging, and commenting really help me out. Enjoy!

Word count: 914

Waking up the next morning was always the worst part, you hated it. Because you knew what it meant for you, what you had to do. The instant regret and self-pity of what you'd done, yet again, as if it didn't happen every couple of weeks. Haunting you, the false promise that you wouldn't end up here again after last night. The promise you knew you'd always end up breaking and repeating, like a broken record. You were like magnets, forever being attracted and brought together in a toxic carousel that you refused to get off of, even knowing that it was destroying you. He had his drugs and he was your drug, simply too compelling not to take.

The feeling of his naked warm body tangled with your own like a suffocating chain, reminding you of the choice you'd made like you always did when you caught sight of him at a party. The chain he had shackled to you, keeping you where he wanted and pulling on them when he wanted you to come to him. Chains that you just couldn't seem to break no matter how hard you tried. He spoke in that husky, tempting tone, that always had you beckoning to him without a single other thought. You were a prisoner in Rafe's unbreakable grip that he refused to loosen, like a siren luring her pray. In this case, his prey is you.

He would watch you like a hawk, following your every move. A cat caging the mouse in with nowhere left to go, waiting for the perfect moment to pounce. And he always would. He knew what to say to tempt you without effort, deceptively lulling you with wanting touches and sweet empty promises. It only ever took that one touch of your arm and the feeling of his breath fanning across your neck as he whispered in your ear, begging you to spend the night with him. The promise of things being different in the morning, that he would be different. But he never was different, it was always the same and would never change no matter how much you wanted it to.

You are malevolent and benevolent

You are the devil that I revel in

Rafe removes your body from his own, moving to the other side of the bed. Away from you. Like he does every time, not wanting to be close to you or even remotely touchy. It didn't really surprise you anymore, there was a deep knowing and understanding of how this little arrangement worked. Yet, it didn't make it hurt any less. The tears burned in your eyes, the familiar feeling of rejection and hurt setting in. His actions were always the same, ignore you and act horrid until you leave.

The Rafe you woke up to was the opposite of the Rafe that you went to bed with, you often thought they were different people completely. The way he looked at you, the way he spoke and acted, was all different. It was as if high and drunk Rafe said the words and secrets that sober Rafe would never say out loud. Especially not to you. There was a stark, striking, and significant difference between the two. You often woke up next to him wanting sweet loving Rafe to be the one that stayed when he woke, it was a blissfully ignorant dream that deep down you knew would never come true.

You couldn't believe that the man who lay you down gently on his bed as he kissed every inch of skin available to him in an indigent manner was the same man who gave you a harsh cold shoulder of hate the next morning. The same man who whispered that he loved you breathlessly as he kissed your lips with so much passion you felt dizzy and buried his cock deep inside you as he made intimate love to you, whispering romantic words of affirmation. The same man who apologised for the way he acted after as he cuddled you with his fingertips dancing across your bare sweaty skin. That man was fictitious, something made up to lure you in, someone who you could never have completely.

This was the same man who walked to his bathroom naked with no more than a sharp "leave" being uttered in an unpleasant tone, sounding angry and fed up with your presence there. The door slammed shut with intent, doing what it was supposed to, making you feel hurt and uncomfortable enough to want to leave before he returns from his shower. The tears fall with gentle quiet sobs escaping as you hastily dress in last night's attire, the familiar feeling of being used setting in once more. The hurt spreads through your body, leaving no part of you untouched, pushing you to the edge of a dark place.

And yet, as you walk out the door of Rafe's home with tear-stained cheeks and your chest painfully tight, you know you'll return to his bed when he comes tempting you once more. As he always does. Repeating the same toxic cycle that neither seems to be able to break.

I barely recognize you when you wake up in the morning,

Must be someone else's eyes that I look into every night

You're only kind when you're all fucked up

You're only mine till your high is gone

But I wish you'd still love me

When your drugs wear off in the morning

[sassykattery]

Lover's Feast

Listen, sometimes, I don't write the stories, my inner horny demon does. And for some reason, that demon decided we needed vampire smut, so here you go. Drink up.

CW: features afab/fem oc! Altaira who uses she/her pronouns. Smut: fingering, unprotected sex, piv with creampie. Blood play and blood drinking. Explicit descriptions of sex. Yandere behavior.

Pairing: Diavolo x oc! Altaira [established relationship]

Third person POV, Vampire AU

Other characters: Barbatos

Synopsis: Haven't we all been told not to do something and we do it anyway? Well, sometimes that leads to... unexpected circumstances.

A/N: This story is not canon to Altaira's original fic, however, there is quite a bit in this story that reveals some elements of her fic. So, in effect, this is a Vampire AU that is related to the original story.

"I hope this room is comfortable for you, Altaira," Barbatos said with a bow. She looked around at the darkened room, a lone, rather large bed against the opposite wall, some couches laid about, a couple of bookcases. Diavolo had invited her over for the first time since they started dating, and as late as it got, he invited her to stay the night.

"It's lovely, tell Diavolo thank you for me," she replied with a slight smile, turning back to the butler.

"Very well. My lord and I ask that you remain here for the night, and should you need something, simply message us. We would hate for you to get lost," he added.

"I will," she agreed.

With that, Barbatos shut the door and left the human to her own devices. She began to explore her quarters, perusing the books along the shelves. Many she didn't recognize, clearly written by Devildom-native authors. Finding one that seemed interesting, called "A Tale of Twin Flames," she took it with her and lounged upon the chaise to read it.

The story was that of two lovers, they who had been separated by circumstance upon the creation of their shared nature by the probability of the universe. One flame found themself in the throes of commonality and mundane living. This flame traversed their life completely unaware of the other, finding each stepping stone upon their life's mortal circuit as an act of surviving. The other flame fell upon the immortal circuit, tossed like an angry sea between duty and heartfelt desire for who, this flame didn't know. This flame was completely aware of a missing piece, and upon every other fire it encountered, there was no spark, no ignition.

It was on one fateful day that the flames met, the immortal fire unknowingly finding the familiarity it had been searching for since childhood, an attachment unlike a moth to its flame, no, not a detrimental one. This association of flames was like taking two pieces of a grand puzzle, both fitting perfectly together in the middle, completing a wider picture than either could conceive. This sort of thing could only be described as a perfect union.

Altaira found herself waking up suddenly, laid back against the chaise. She didn't realize she had fallen asleep, and when she looked at her book, she realized she had finished it. Setting it aside, she stretched and came to her feet. She quickly realized she needed a bathroom.

Thinking she knew where it was and hating to bother anyone else just to go, she changed into her pajamas quickly and made her trek out of the guest room. It took some time, but she did eventually find one. She could've sworn the one she had been in before looked different, but she was happy to find it nonetheless.

When she was done, she left and looked around, realizing she had no idea what wing of the castle she was in as dim as it was. She wasn't entirely sure how she even found her way over here. Uncertain but unsure where anyone was to even ask for help, she began walking around. A chill ran over her as she walked the halls, and she rubbed her hands over her upper arms, trying to warm up. The paintings lining the halls kept her company as she watched them pass by as she continued her trek.

"Altaira," an airy but low tenor voice called out to her, making her jump and turn around.

"Diavolo! You spooked me," she replied, looking at the darkened silhouette of the prince. He stepped forward and she could see him slightly better, still in his RAD uniform.

"I apologize. You are up rather late," he replied softly, his lids lowered as he looked at her with a neutral expression.

"I fell asleep by accident," she replied, studying him.

"I see. Since you are awake, would you accompany me to my room? I wouldn't mind your presence, and I'll take you back to your room when you wish to retire again," he offered smoothly, taking a step closer and gesturing toward the rest of the hallway. She looked and guessed his room was that way.

"Sure."

Very lightly, his hand came to her back and guided her to follow him. She did so, walking beside him as he led her to his room, which was only two doors down from the bathroom she found.

Once inside his room, he closed the door quietly and locked it without her noticing. He walked over to a sofa and gestured for her to sit. Sitting a respectful distance away, he turned toward her and crossed a leg, reclining back.

"Thank you for letting me stay here. I've had a good time," she said, filling the silence.

"Of course, I'm always excited to have you here. Is your room comfortable?" He asked, leaning forward and pouring a glass of Demonus from the decanter on the coffee table next to the sofa. He handed the first glass to her and then poured one for himself.

"Thank you, and yes, it's perfect. I even enjoyed one of the books I found," she replied with a small smile, then taking a sip. This Demonus was a cherry red color, different from the champagne or blue colors she was used to seeing. It had a darker taste to it compared to others she had tasted.

"What book?" He asked, sitting back, looking relaxed but keeping his gaze wholly focused on her.

"A Tale of Twin Flames."

A charming smile laced his lips as he brought the glass up to his mouth. "Yes, that is a favorite of mine as well." He finished the glass quickly and poured another while she swirled hers.

"I wouldn't mind reading more by that author," she added, looking up at the prince through her lashes. He finished his second glass of Demonus and set it down, leaning in closer to her.

"I'm sure I could acquire them for you. What was your favorite part of that story?" He asked, nearly in a purr now as he took in her form.

"I enjoyed it the most when they met for the first time," she admitted, looking away and smiling as she remembered what she read. "The way the author described their first interaction like puzzle pieces who never realized they could fit with someone else so perfectly."

His gaze softened further as he continued to watch her, his head tilting.

"And the way the author just beautifully portrayed their..." she stopped herself, realizing she was getting carried away and locking up.

"Go on," he commanded in a deeper pitch, causing her to look up at him again. She felt the heat radiating off of him with how close he was, and with the way he was watching her so intently, her cheeks began to burn.

"Um... Sorry, I lost my train of thought," she lied, feeling shy now.

"I see. And, what did you think of the ending?" He continued to ask.

"Oh! Yes, I quite liked it. I wasn't sure they were going to stay together, but I'm glad they did," she answered. "I would love a sequel some day."

"The author is a good friend of mine. She took the inspiration of the story from me," he admitted.

"Really? So, is there going to be a sequel?" She asked excitedly, inching closer to the prince now.

"That all depends," he murmured.

"On?" She tilted her head.

He was silent for a couple beats, looking at her closely again. Suddenly, she looked down at her hand when she felt his lay upon hers. When she looked up again, his face was maybe an inch from her face. Her gaze flitted between his and his lips, as they were so close to hers. The warmth coming from him was so inviting.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she let her body come forward to collide with his. Their lips met, starting fires deep within themselves. Her scent had already filled his senses the moment she walked into his space, enveloping his every thought in a smokescreen of her. But the second her lips were on his, that increased beyond a tenfold as her body came alight. He could feel her heart rate pick up, something else he noted when he got closer to her. It was thunderous now, and he could almost feel it thrumming against her chest even with the limited space between them.

She pulled away first, breaths labored. He had forgotten she likely needed to breathe. But now he was too far into it, finding his appetite for her ever-growing in her presence, especially when her body was signaling every response that she wanted him, too.

"I, um..." she barely whispered, studying his gaze. She felt his fist curl beside hers, and his brows furrowed with his lips forming a thin line. "Are you okay?"

"I think it's time for you to retire," he responded firmly, bordering on anger.

"Oh-oh... Okay," she quickly got up from the sofa, her touch leaving his behind.

Without looking back, after unlocking the door, she left, walking quickly around the halls until after at least fifteen minutes that she finally found her room. She slammed the door and threw herself into her bed, wondering what she did wrong. Looking at the time, she realized it was still the very early hours of the morning. Determined to forget about what happened, she turned off the lights and tucked herself into bed.

Dark dreams plagued her. A feeling of uneasiness kept her from a restful sleep. In her dreams, she was followed by a presence, unsure if it meant to do her harm or not. She was constantly looking behind her, feeling its ominous energy latched onto her like an appendage, unable to leave her be without its own undoing.

A gasp escaped her lips just as her eyes finally opened, released from her dreams. But what she found to hover above her proved to be just as alarming. She could feel hands on either side digging into the mattress, forcing it to dip around her. It was pitch dark in the room, but she could feel the body trapping her in place.

"Apologies," a familiar yet gravely tenor stated.

"What are you doing, Diavolo?" She asked timidly.

"I was watching you sleep. It seemed you were having fitful dreams," he confessed.

"Why? Why were you watching me sleep?" She asked, a bit more panicked-sounding.

"I couldn't find my own rest after the touch of your lips. You left an impression," he replied.

"But you seemed angry," she added.

"Because I was trying to control myself. You were... tantalizing," he answered. "But I found myself coming to find you for more, and I ended up here, watching you."

"Tantalizing?"

"Surely you've figured it out," he purred, still a voice in the dark, surrounding her completely. "Tell me, Altaira, what was special about that book you read earlier? About the male lead?"

"He was... immortal," she replied, piecing together what he meant. "But you're a demon, not a v–"

"The two words do not have to necessarily be exclusive to one another. Demons and vampires, and their colloquialisms across many languages, have been interchangeable descriptions of the immortals who feed off the souls and life forces of others for millennia," he informed her, a slight smile to his voice now.

The instant the information sunk into her, she froze, her heart rate hiking up even higher.

"I promised myself I wouldn't touch you in any such way, for your sake and mine, unless you asked for it. I wouldn't even indulge in a kiss unless you initiated, my darling," he added.

She shifted around then, and though she couldn't see him, his view of her was perfectly clear, his eyes adapted to complete darkness.

"Can– can we have some light?" She asked nervously.

Instantly, a candle on the dresser in a far corner went alight, and dimly, she could finally see the Demon Lord holding himself above her, now in a black silk pajamas set.

"So... You're not angry at me?" She asked quietly, searching his face. He looked the same, and though his gaze was largely no different, she was starting to understand the hungry looks he gave her.

"No, darling. Never," he answered, taking one of his hands and leaning onto the other to caress her cheek.

"Then... can we kiss again?"

His smile came back, an ease influencing his gaze. "Of course."

Lowering himself to her, his lips encaptured hers, and again, her body was lit again, as if every time they touched, he was setting her ablaze.

"Hold me," she mumbled against his lips, kicking the blankets down.

Once he had access, he slid his arms beneath her and pulled her into his embrace, kissing her all the while. Holding her was like holding a flame; he was almost afraid he'd smother her. But her warmth and movement made her all the more enticing, the way she molded perfectly against him. She kept her hands on his shoulders, squeezing them lightly to get his attention.

"Mm?" He mumbled, breaking their kiss.

"I need air," she chuckled. He chuckled too and sighed contentedly. Without thinking, one of her hands came to rest on the back of his head, and while craning her head to fit into the junction of his neck, his did the same into her neck.

He gave a short grunt and squeezed her tightly, feeling her pulse point right against his cheek.

"My love," he growled. She pulled away to look at him, his eyes now fully dilated and cheeks flushed.

"Oh," she muttered.

"You're incredibly hard to resist," he mused in a deadpan.

She chewed her lip for a moment and decided to be brave. "I'm sorry, I suppose I'm curious... Are you... Well, do you want to... drink from me?"

"I suppose one could put it that way, yes. Although, I would say I would like to be intimate with you in such a way that it feels good to the both of us," he suggested.

"It can feel good?"

"Indeed," he replied with a slight smirk.

"I wouldn't mind trying," she replied quietly, wide-eyed.

"Please do not feel obligated. Don't do this to appease me," he murmured, tucking some of her hair back and looking at her fondly.

"No, this is something I want. I desire you in the same way," she answered. He smiled and kissed her again, thus more passionately to demonstrate such desire to her, too.

Breaking away, he looked more serious now. "You may back out at any time. Please, speak up if you need to," he informed her quietly.

She nodded, and he began unbuttoning his silk sleep shirt, watching her. Her hands flew up to his to stop him, allowing her to take over. She brought his hands down to her to reciprocate, to touch. Her arms raised up to allow him to pull her top off. The rest of their garments were discarded. The two admired one another wordlessly, breathing in the intoxicating beauty of the other.

"Is it messy?" She asked earnestly.

"It can be, but no, it won't be here," he answered, backing off and taking her arms to guide her upward to sit on her knees.

"I don't like seeing my own... blood," she admitted, nearly whispering the last word. He then sat back on his rear and guided her to straddle his lap.

"Then you won't," he assured her. His arms encircled her form, keeping her close against him.

"And will this... do anything to me?"

He chuckled again, caressing her back and curling his fingers through her long blonde locks.

"No, sweet girl," he answered. The prince's demon form fleshed out into existence, his wings fully unfurled, horns just inches from her own head.

"Beautiful," she murmured, stroking his face with the back of her hand.

"There are none as lovely as you, though they wish they were," he replied in a deeper pitch. "I can scarcely believe I have you like this." He then tilted his head forward to whisper against the shell of her ear. "And I have no intention of letting you go. You are in your entirety all mine."

A shiver ran down her spine, making her skin prickle. When he pulled back to look at her again, she merely ran her fingertips down his neck and chest. "All yours," she repeated back. A smile adorned his handsome face again, his gleaming golden gaze entrancing to her.

"But..." he started to say with his hand sliding beneath them, his other hand shifting her slightly in his lap, his fingers coming to brush her mound. "From this moment forward, this is definitely only for me to consume, to taste, to experience, make love to," he said before leaning in to whisper again, "And to fuck."

On that final word, his lithe fingers had rubbed against the slit of her lower lips, causing her to gasp softly, her hips rolling forward into his touch and force more of his palm against her heat. He chuckled darkly and began rubbing his fingers in circles over her lips, eventually sinking into her folds as warm slick began to pool on her heat.

"So good for me," he murmured. She simply moaned in reply, holding onto him again as he began working her clit, earning more moans from her. In a smooth tone, he added, "Just focus on this, how good I make you feel. Not a single person can do what I can for you."

If her moans weren't indicative of her pleasure, then her hips rolling incessantly certainly was. His free hand gently pressed her forward into him so he could nibble on her ear lobe, diverging her focus as he whispered,

"When you are in the height of your ecstasy, I will truly taste you, consume you. It will be sharp for merely a moment, and then it will be numb for another..." He then nipped at her while his free hand caressed her back. "Then you shall feel my bliss entangling with your own."

His words made her whimper and buck her hips, trying to gain a foothold of stimulation from his fingers.

"Please," she whined pitifully.

Obeying her, one of his fingers sank lower to find her softened entrance, ready for whatever he wanted to give her. Sliding in was easy, so warm and wet. He groaned in her ear to feel it, ready for that same feeling to be on his cock. Finally ready to take control, her hands found purchase on his shoulders as she began to rock her hips, finding relief with a smile on her face as she chased her pleasure.

"So amazing," he whispered, watching her please herself on his hand. "That's it, little darling, take what you want from me, it's yours."

Her eyes barely cracked open to look at him, and he loved that lust ladden gaze she held for him, hazy and somewhat coherent. He adjusted his hand, pulling back slightly to offer her another digit, and she gladly rolled herself onto them. Another wanton moan escaped while he tilted his head forward to kiss her, swallowing her sounds for only his consumption. He felt her walls begin to tighten, contracting down around his fingers.

"Fuck, I want your cock," she moaned out as her head rolled back.

"Mm," he half-chuckled, half-groaned. "I've been waiting for this."

He pulled his hand away when she stopped moving, leaving her empty for just a moment as he took hold of her rear in both of his hands. Once she was properly adjusted on his lap, he guided her up, the tip of his leaking cock nudging her lower lips. More whimpers and cries escaped her lips as they worked together to guide his cock to slip through her folds, making her slick run all over it. It was merely a tease for her but already so intense for him to feel her heat against his.

With her raised like this, he barely tilted his head up to look at her with an almost pleading gaze. "Tell me you want this, that you want me."

Her lustful gaze softened, still hazy, though. "I want you, so, so bad. I want this with you. I want you to taste me," she reassured him.

Letting gravity aide him, he slowly sank her down on his cock while he grunted out his pleasure, just as she whined hers out. Though he could never enter heaven, surely this was far better than anything any "god" could offer him. It was perfect. Divine. Other worldly. He was filled with more liquid hot desire as she lurched forward to kiss him again, so hungry for more and more of him. Devious little darling, he thought.

Seemingly an eternity later, she was fully impaled on his cock, throbbing and aching inside her, just as she ached for him, too.

"You feel..." he murmured, his eyes nearly rolling back as she squeezed him with her hot, wet, soft cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect."

"So full... I love it," she mumbled blissfully.

"Mm," he hummed with a smile. Taking hold of her hips, he started a slow pace of grinding her in his lap, forcing out more moans from both of them. It was intense for both of them, and she was squeezing him that much tighter.

"Dia," she whimpered. "Close."

"Already? My poor little darling, were you aching for this? For me? Was this all you could think about?" He teased her softly. She nodded and whimpered, looking slightly up at him with teary eyes.

"You just feel so good," she replied quietly.

Carefully and slowly, he planted kisses trailing from her lips to her jaw and down her neck. He ran his tongue up her neck to nibble at her ear, tugging on the lobe playfully. He did this all the way around, getting her accustomed to his ministrations. It worked as she gradually rolled her head back and exposed more of her delicate flesh to him. He continued to guide her hips into a rhythm they both enjoyed.

"Beautiful and delicious," he mumbled against her neck, just below her ear. Her scent was completely taking over his senses, filling his mind with only thoughts of her, her body, her sounds, her taste.

"Please," she cried out to him, moving her hips of her own accord, grinding down harder. His hands moved to grab the round lobes of her ass, squeezing them.

"Just a little more, sweet dove. I want to savor this," he answered her cry. "I promise I'll take you there, just a bit more."

Hot fiery bliss ran through her nerves as it was, making her shine with a slight sweat, her hands curling into the locks on the nape of his neck. Her breathing became deep and ragged. He read her body like a novel, each sign of her nearing orgasm a page to turn as he watched her start to build to it.

Leaning toward her once more, he whispered, "So good for me. Every bit of you is exquisite, the only one deserving of such bliss. I want to give it all to you, princess."

"Please, please, please give it to me," she whimpered. "I need it. I need you, all of you, give me all of you."

"Ohhh..." he moaned out, suddenly feeling his own pleasure surging.

Feeling his cock begin to pulse, she quit fighting the release that wanted to so badly break through her body. In a swift movement, her hands on the back of his head pulled him toward her, his face buried in the side of her neck.

"Take me there, please, Diavolo."

Unable to fight himself either, he dropped the restraints he was holding in his mind, letting them fall into the chasm of euphoria he was about to jump head-first into. He started thrusting up into her viciously, no longer proliferating his own inhibition.

"Ahh! Oh! Yes! Right there!" She screamed out to him. "I'm gonna cum!"

And just as he felt her walls clamp down on his cock, he felt the ache in his throat, a tightening he only experienced when he was on the verge of tearing something apart. It was dry and urgent, needing to be drenched in her. Following the instinct, he pressed an open mouth kiss just above the anterior jugular vein. His hold on her tightened to keep her still for a mere moment before sinking his fangs in.

Altaira gasped and jolted only slightly, feeling hundreds of icy pinpricks into her flesh, but it quickly faded as warmth and a numbing feeling glazed over the area. In the very next instant, she experienced her own undoing, coming apart with a low moan, limply pulling at his hair. Her walls pulsed and milked his cock for everything he had.

Diavolo grunted as he consumed her life's essence. Indeed, she was as sweet as the forbidden fruit, just like he knew she would be. A soul like hers could only be inhabited in a body just as delectable, and he was her insatiable devotee. It took a few moments for him to focus again, realizing she was cumming all over his cock, and that combined sensation of her orgasm and her confectionery of crimson in his mouth was his own undoing.

Her peak was just starting to plateau when she felt his release deep inside her cunt, and he was right: she felt his bliss intermingle with hers, the doubly designed connection intertwining into one feeling, one singular sensation. From where he was consuming her, divine warm ecstasy flowed out to the rest of her body, sending more orgasmic pulses up her spine and down her legs. Every nerve was alight, and there wasn't an inch of her body left unaffected by the fire she felt within.

He drank her in as slowly as he could allow himself, wanting to savor this moment and sear it into his memory for eternity. His hands left her rear in favor of wrapping around her back, pulling her in as close as physically possible and no longer thrusting up into her. Her pleasure became his, too, only heightening both to infinity.

They stayed like that for a while, the image of unholy and immortal lovemaking. The vampire, a demon, devouring the essence of his first human, the only creature ever brave enough to offer herself in such a way. Though she had every reason to be scared and run, she stayed.

Feeling protective, his wings came around to encircle them, blocking the outside world from intruding on their nearly-ceremonious act of love and adoration.

All too soon, Altaira felt the euphoric warmth dissipating and her heart rate starting to slow, as if she was drifting off to blissful sleep. When Diavolo felt her body start to feel slack and limp, he broke the connection, receeding his fangs and licking over the puncture wounds to lace the area with magic and close them up.

"Altaira," he murmured, holding her head up with one hand and caressing her face with the other.

"Mm?" She barely responded.

"Are you still with me?" He asked, coaxing her awake.

"Yeah..." she mumbled again. It was hard to focus, but she could feel the effects slowly fade, letting her become more and more coherent. "I'm here," she added softly. A dreamy smile took over her lips, and finally, she cracked her eyes open to look at the darling prince.

"There you are," he cooed, admiring her state and enjoying how happy she looked. "How was that?"

"Wonderful," she murmured.

He gave a small chuckle and helped her to move around, removing himself from her and laying her back against the mattress. Reverting to his regular form, he reached over to the tissues and proceeded to clean her up first. Once he was done, he started to grab his pajamas but heard her whimper.

"Don't leave."

Wide-eyed, he turned and saw her barely sitting up on her elbows, looking confused. A smile laced his lips again as he dropped his pajamas and slid back into her bed.

"You want me to stay?" He asked in a husky tone.

"Always."

He felt a twinge in his heart at that, gathering her up in his arms as they laid on their sides. She immediately melted into his grasp, her head tucked into his chest and neck. He felt her start to drift again, sleep taking root.

"Forever more, I will stay with you," he replied, stroking her hair.

"And you shall stay with me. Here. Forever, lover."

---

Thanks for reading!

Post made by sassykattery. Do not repost. Reblogs and comments appreciated.

Tags: @bite-sized-devil @delphi-dreamin

[yjano]

All of me.

Part 13.

Pairing: Jake x Mc.

Warnings: slow burn, swearing, angst, a little fluff, smut, violence and other pairings.

Words: 6.2k

Author's note: Although this story is not related to the Duskwood game, I will add some of our beloved characters. Please read it only if you're into angst prison stories, slow burns, etc. A little hint: You will get to see some similarities to Jake and his gang from "Never The Same" fic.

Pain, sore muscles, and a nauseous feeling in my stomach were the three things I felt when I woke up the next morning. A soft grunt left my mouth while I slowly tried to turn around in bed. My whole body felt heavy, and my head felt like it had been hit by a wall.

Never in a million years had I expected to find myself in such a situation again. Of course, I had had multiple hangovers in my younger years, but ever since I had started my training to become a nurse, I had stopped going to parties completely.

Yesterday had been a huge mistake when it came to my drinking habits, I had believed that I was able to handle a few drinks, but I was wrong. The aching pain in my head and the nauseous feeling in my stomach reminded me every few seconds.

I slowly turned my head to the side, avoiding any sudden movements to not trigger the nausea anymore than it already was. No matter how bad I felt, puking wasn't on my list of activities for today, and I would do anything to prevent it. A sigh of relief left my body once my eyes fell on the painkillers and the glass of water that stood on my nightstand.

Right at this moment, I couldn't ask for anything more. Just the thought of relieving my body from the pain it was currently in made me somewhat happy. With some difficulty, I slowly sat up in bed, grabbing the painkillers and swallowing them with some water while my eyes fell on a little note laying beside them. I placed the glass back on the table and grabbed the note, bringing it in front of my face.

Meet me downstairs when you feel better :) - JD.

A small smile spread on my face while I placed the note down on the table and slowly lied back down again. A soft sigh left my mouth, and I closed my eyes to get some more sleep and sleep off my hangover.

Three hours later, I woke up, feeling a lot better than before. I still felt the leftovers from the hangover, but at this point, they were bearable and didn't prevent me from getting out of bed. Within twenty minutes, I had taken a shower to relax my muscles some more and remove the smell of alcohol from my body, getting dressed right after and walking downstairs to meet Jake.

After a small search, I found Jake on the kitchen table. Laptop in front of him and reading glasses on his nose. I grabbed a cup of coffee from the counter and took a seat in front of him, greeting him good morning in the meantime. Jake looked up with a soft smile at me, greeting me good morning too before his eyes switched back to the laptop.

My eyes slowly drifted over to his face, getting fascinated by the glasses on Jake's nose. I had never seen him with glasses on, but the sight intrigued me. Jake looked smart and cute at the same time, being all focussed on his laptop, fixing his glasses every now and then. A soft sigh left my mouth.

"You look cute with glasses."

Jake looked at me with one of his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his face.

"You think so? I personally hate them, but thank you, I guess."

My eyes immediately widened, my hand freezing mid-air, causing me to spill some coffee out of my cup on the table. My cheeks turned cherry red while my eyes suddenly started to get very interested in the coffee stain before me.

"I-I didn't mean to say that out loud."

A soft chuckle left Jake's mouth while he stood up to get some paper to clean up the mess I had caused. I followed him with my eyes, my cheeks only getting redder by the second.

Embarrassment flooded my whole body, and before Jake could turn around with the paper, I had stood up from the table and darted out of the apartment. While screaming, I needed Lex for something. With my heart in my throat and my hands clammy, I made my way to Lex's apartment. Apart from the bubbly girl, I had no idea where to go to, so Lex was my first choice when I needed some help.

Lex and me had grown close over the last few weeks and I was sure I could consider the small girl as my friends by now and in my opinion you would turn to your friends when you had a problem. I turned another corner, seeing the door to Lex's apartment already before me.

With a few more strikes, I stood in front of it, and I immediately knocked on the door to get the smaller girl's attention. It didn't take long for the door to open, only to reveal Kaden and not Lex. I opened my mouth to ask where my friend was, but before I could form any words, Kaden had already answered me while he stepped out of the apartment.

"Lex's in the living room with Sam. Tell her I'm off to speak to Jake." Kaden walked away, leaving a speechless me behind. I took a few seconds to compose myself before I walked further into the cozy home.

I maneuvered myself through the other's apartment, finding my way to the living room and coming face to face with Lex and Sam. With a heavy sigh, I walked over to the two, dropping myself down on the couch between them. I immediately put my head in my hands while I screamed softly in them.

"I made a huge mistake."

Lex's and Sam's eyebrows furrowed, not getting what I was talking about. Lex softly placed her hand on my back, stroking it softly in an attempt to calm me down.

"What mistake, Mc?"

Another sigh left my mouth, getting my head out of my hands and looking away in the distance.

"I've called Jake cute." I whispered almost inaudible.

Lex and Sam gave each other a short look before a small smirk started to form on Lex's face.

"You owe me fifty bucks, Sam."

A soft 'fuck' could be heard from Sam, getting the attention from me.

"What? Why would you own her fifty bucks?"

Sam looked away from me while Lex started to chuckle softly.

"We made a bet about you and Jake. Sam guessed you wouldn't realize your feelings for Jake until next year, and I guessed you would." Lex's smirk only grew bigger at her statement.

"Guess I was right, so Sam owes me fifty bucks."

My face got as red as a tomato. I put my head back in my hands to avoid any more embarrassment.

"I don't like him."

Lex gave me a soft push against my shoulder, laughing softly.

"Yeah, right, and Kaden isn't my boyfriend." Sarcasm dripped from her voice. I turned ever redder, my mind going all places. I had hoped to find some peace at Lex's place, but I got even more embarrassed than when I was with Jake.

"Mc, listen. Why did you call Jake cute?" Sam suddenly asked, pulling me back up to look him in the eyes. My eyes darted from one to another, another sigh leaving my mouth.

"I don't know. He just looked cute. He never wears glasses, and they just fit him so good. I just liked the look a lot." I slowly started to smile while I talked about Jake's outfit from this morning.

"He just looked really good in them, and when he started to smile, he looked even better. His smile is so pretty, and it makes me feel all warm and soft inside whenever he smiles."

A knowing smirk started to form on Lex's and Sam's faces while I kept rambling about Jake.

"He even left some painkillers and water on my nightstand this morning. He's always so caring, and he makes me feel really good. Oh, and his eyes, his eyes are so pretty. Way prettier than anyones, I would do anything to capture those eyes every day... He's just perfect, you know?" I stared with dreamy eyes at them. Huge grins on their faces made me all confused.

"What?"

Lex laughed right at my face.

"Do you even hear yourself? You're drooling over Jake like he is some kind of meal."

I furrowed my eyebrows before my eyes suddenly got really big, I placed my hand before my mouth and all colors drained from my face.

"I do, don't I? I-I guess I do like him..."

I could only look at the other two with complete astonishment, just understanding this newfound knowledge about myself.

I couldn't get Jake out of my head ever since Lex and Sam had brought up the fact that I liked Jake on a deeper level than just a good friendship. I had come to the realization that I liked Jake way more than just as a friend, and the thought made me terrified. For one, I didn't know if Jake liked me back, and second, I had no idea how to tell Jake about my feelings.

Luckily for me the two others weren't scared about those two things at all and both Sam and Lex were already planning how to get me to confess to Jake and how to get him to like me back.

"Mc?" Sam started to get my attention. "We need to find out if he likes you back. Does he ever do something that might indicate he has feelings for you?"

I looked up at Sam, not really getting what he was hinting at. I had no idea if Jake ever did something romantic towards me, I had never paid attention to that aspect of our relationship. Of course, we got along pretty well, and we liked to be in each other's company, but I had no idea if there ever were any romantic feelings involved.

"Does he ever call you cute names, or does he do sweet things for you?" Lex asked, her head in her hands and a soft smile on her face.

I turned my head towards Lex, a slight feeling of panic rising in my chest. I had no idea if Jake did those things, I didn't even know what Lex meant with sweet things.

"I don't know."

"No cuddles or kisses? Special meals? Nicknames? I'm sure Jake does some of these things." Lex continued softly, the smile on her face still there.

A soft sigh left my lips. Sure, Jake did some of those things, but that wouldn't mean he had romantic feelings for me. Most friends do those things, right? I slowly opened my mouth to answer Lex's question, not really sure if I would give her the answers she was looking for.

"Well, he cooks for me, and there was a glass of water with some painkillers on my nightstand this morning."

Both Sam and Lex squinted their eyes a little, clearly thinking about my answer and if it was enough for them to say that Jake liked me too. A short silence fell over the three of us before Sam started to speak again, not completely satisfied with my answer.

"Is that all he does, though? There must be something better, right? Isn't there something more intimate going on between you two?"

My head turned as red as a tomato, my eyes grew big, and I immediately looked down at the floor.

"Uh... Well, we share a bed. Back in the prison, Jake got beaten up quite a lot, and I cooled his bruises with some water and my blanket. Because of the cold, we shared a bed every night... We still do."

Lex and Sam immediately shared a look between them, a huge grin showing up on their faces.

"Mc... Jake doesn't share his stuff with anybody. I'm telling you, you are special to him. I think you have a solid chance here." Lex smiled while she put her hand over my back to calm me down. I slowly lifted my head, my eyes crossing with Lex's. A soft glimmer of hope in my eyes but also a lot of fear.

"Okay, we need a plan to see if he likes you back, though." Sam started, a devilish grin on his face. "How about you cook him his favorite meal. After that you will watch a romantic movie and try to kiss him."

My eyes turned as big as saucers, immediately shaking my head no.

"I can't do that, I can't kiss him like that."

Sam stroked his chin softly, thinking of another plan that would also work but wouldn't involve the kissing part since I wasn't okay with it.

"How about you just cook him a meal and see where it goes from there?"

I furrowed my eyebrows while a deep sigh left my mouth.

"I can't cook."

"Nobody fucks up pasta, trust me this is going to work." Sam smiled, encouraging me.

~

Three hours later, and oh dear Sam, was wrong. I had, after a lot of encouraging from the two of them, indeed gone with the cooking plan. To say that it went according to plan would be a complete misunderstanding.

Just ten minutes in, and the pan with water had already boiled over. The pasta had fallen down on the floor, and the sauce had too much salt in it. My attempts to try and save it all made the whole ordeal even worse, the whole plan turning into a complete disaster.

By now, I had tried to save the sauce with some pepper, turning the whole sauce into a spicy and salty mess. My pasta had gone on fire from hanging out of the pan too much, and my vegetables were basically stuck to the bottom of the pan, filling the whole apartment with a terrible burning smell.

My whole body started to panic at the mess I had created, knowing for sure my chances with Jake would be ruined if he saw all of it. Suddenly, two hands were placed on my shoulders, turning me around and making me come face to face with none other than Jake himself.

"What are you doing?" A soft laugh left Jake's mouth.

"I tried to cook for you, you always do it for me, so I wanted to do something back." I mumbled, more than ashamed about my bad attempt of cooking a meal for him.

"It smells like something is dying in here, Mc, and I'm pretty sure they are your vegetables." Jake laughed again, pushing me a little to the side to turn off the gas under all the pans.

A small pout formed on my face, I wanted to impress him and make him fall for me, but everything just had to go wrong, and it made me look like a complete idiot. Jake turned around. He saw the pout on my face almost immediately, and without a second thought, he had embraced me in his arms.

"Relax, it's okay. Don't feel sad about it. We can ask Jessy if she can make us something, okay? I do really appreciate the effort you put into it, though." Jake loosened his embrace a little to look into my eyes.

"Don't be sad, okay? I hate to see that beautiful face turn into a sad one."

My face turned fully red at the statement, making Jake laugh softly.

"Just don't worry about it, it's okay, baby."

My heart started to beat rapidly in my chest, my hands became clam, and my head turned even redder. Jake had just called me beautiful and baby within two sentences, and it made me go completely nuts inside my head. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and a warm feeling started to spread through my body.

Never had I picked up on Jake's remarks as flirty or romantic, but now that I knew there was a chance Jake might like me too, I couldn't ignore them anymore. Jake was definitely flirting with me, and I had been too dense to even notice it all this time.

Jake slowly raised his head a little up, bringing it right next to my cheek. My heart started to beat even harder, and my whole body now felt like it was on fire. The butterflies in my stomach started to move like crazy while my breathing picked up too. Jake hesitated a little before I could feel a small peck on my right cheek, leaving a pleasant tingling feeling behind as soon as he removed his lips from my cheek.

A soft silence fell over us, both of us not knowing what our next move was gonna be. Jake had stayed next to me for a few more seconds before he had removed himself from my side, a faint blush on both of our cheeks while our hearts kept beating like crazy. My eyes cast downward, a soft smile on my face and my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

My whole body felt like it was on fire, a really pleasant and warming fire. Butterflies roamed around like crazy in my stomach while a shy feeling took over my mind. Jake had just kissed me. He had just placed his lips on my cheek. A soft chuckle sounded from my side, making me look up at Jake, who had a small smile on his face.

"Wanna watch a movie while I get us something to eat from Jessy?"

I gave him a soft nod, and not much later, both of us were seated on the large couch in Jake's living room. After some begging from Jake, Jessy had indeed provided us with some dinner, not forgetting to constantly remind Jake that Jessy was way too good for him and that the whole gang would be nothing without her.

While Jake was getting our dinner I had taken it upon myself to chose the movie we were going to watch, multiple times going over Jake's whole collection before finally deciding that some random action movie was gonna have to do.

With our dinner on our laps and two glasses filled with soda on the table, both of us were ready to start the movie and enjoy a fun night. Jessy's food was as always extraordinary, good and tasteful, filling us both up to the brim while the movie softly played in the background.

30 minutes in both of us had finished our dinner and had somehow gotten incredibly close to each other on the couch. Our knees and shoulders kept touching every few seconds, and I could feel Jake's body warmth radiating against me. A soft blush crept back up on my cheeks while the shy feeling started to get back in my mind.

It wasn't that I was afraid of Jake, but he certainly made me nervous and flustered at the same time. I felt Jake's hand slowly slide across the small space between us, grabbing my hand softly. He weaved his fingers between mine, making me even more flustered.

My cheeks are now a bright red cherry color. Both of us kept our eyes on the movie, but we weren't really watching. Our whole attention was directed at our intertwined hands, none of us having the guts to really acknowledge the action to the other.

I felt how Jake slowly started to stroke the back of my hand, sliding some more towards me so our whole bodies were now touching. I felt like my heart was going to beat out of my chest due to all the actions that were happening at the moment. Jake was close, really close, and I was more than aware of that fact.

"Mc?" Jake suddenly whispered almost inaudible.

I slowly turned my head towards him, our eyes immediately finding each other. A soft blush was still present on Jake's face, a small smile on his lips and an unreadable look in his eyes. I had seen many sides of him, but the look Jake was giving me right now wasn't one of them.

I couldn't really explain what the look was that Jake was giving me, but in some kind of way, it made me feel safe and protected. I started to bite my lip softly, not really knowing what to do with myself in a moment like this. I casted my eyes downwards, getting shy of all the attention Jake was giving me.

A few seconds passed before I felt a soft pair of fingers against my bottom lip, loosening it from the grip of my own teeth.

"Don't, you'll hurt yourself." Jake whispered, placing his hand under my chin to make me look him in the eyes. Our eyes crossed for a second time, making Jake smile softly at me.

"You're so freaking beautiful."

Jake slowly crept forward, trying to remove the last bit of distance that was between us. He moved his head slowly towards me, I felt like my heart was going to explode at any moment now. Jake's head kept coming closer and closer, making me shut my eyes on instinct while awaiting Jake to make his next move.

I could feel Jake's breath against my skin, my heart beating at a rapid pace and a nervous feeling taking over my mind. I kept my eyes closed, not daring to open them in case it would ruin the moment.

"Mc?" Jake breathed against my lips, only a fingers distance away from my lips. "Can I kiss you?"

I felt like my heart was going to erupt into a full-blown earthquake at that question. Jake had just asked if he could kiss me. Jake freaking Dalton was asking for permission to kiss me when I had just found out that I liked the gangleader way more than just as a friend.

I could feel Jake's soft and steady breaths against my lips, suddenly coming to the realization that he was waiting for an answer before he would make his next move. I was about to answer him that he had his full permission to do so, my mind already fantasising about how Jake's lips would feel against my own.

Before fate decided that this was the perfect timing to make Jake's mobile go off on full volume, ruining the moment completely. Both Jake and I jumped back from the sudden sound, scaring both of us and ripping us away from our beautiful moment. A few curse words left Jake's mouth while he fished his phone out of his pocket, scowling at the caller ID before picking up.

"What the fuck do you want?!" He whisper yelled harshly, clearly annoyed with the whole situation.

A soft sigh left my mouth while I made myself comfortable against the back of the couch, watching Jake while he spoke on the phone with the intruder.

"And you couldn't tell me this tomorrow?!" Jake yelled again, his hand in his hair and a pissed off look on his face.

"I don't care that you just found out. Your timing is terrible... Let me repeat that for you te-rri-ble!"

I heard how the person on the other end of the line tried to defend herself, but Jake didn't want to hear any of it. His eyes fell on me on the couch, and his face immediately softened, giving me a small smile before he focussed back on his phone call.

"Stop... Just stop it and hang up the phone! I don't wanna hear any of it right now!" Jake ripped the phone away from his ear, hanging it up while muttering a soft 'Idiot' against it. A deep sigh left Jake's mouth before he looked back up at me.

"I'm sorry, Lex has the worst timing ever."

I slowly shook my head, a small smile on my face while I grabbed his hand.

"It's okay, don't worry about it."

Jake tightened his grip on my hand, and a soft yawn escaped my mouth, making Jake's smile grow a little wider. Without another word, he stood up, turned off the tv, and nudged me to follow him.

"Lets go to bed, it's been a long day."

I could only agree at the suggestion. Both of us ended up beside each other in bed, falling asleep pretty quickly while cuddling each other tightly.

~

That morning, I woke up with an arm around my middle and a head against my back. Soft snores came from behind me while a small smile fell over my face. Jake's body provided my body with a pleasurable heat, giving me a feeling of safeness. A feeling I had been feeling more and more in the last few weeks. It had been mostly Jake that provided me with the feeling of safeness but the others had slowly started to win my trust too, especially Lex.

She had proven to be a really great friend towards me, never judging me and always being there whenever I needed someone that wasn't Jake. Jessy and Sam were also people I trusted with my life, both of them having a way more positive attitude than I could ever have, something I admired in both of them.

Kaden and Dan were two people I couldn't really call friends, but I still trusted them because Jake did. Both guys scared me to the bone, Kaden, because he was just scary as hell, and he always looked angry. Dan, because I didn't know him well enough. The only thing I did know was that he was really smart and came up with all the plans, meaning he could set up a plan to remove me from the gang within a second and that thought alone made me scared of his capabilities.

Still, I trusted them since Jake found them to be his second and third in command. A soft sigh left my mouth, focusing back on Jake behind me. He was still fast asleep, giving me the perfect opportunity to observe him from up close... If I managed to turn around without waking him up.

With great caution, I slowly tried to turn around, moving my body little by little to not startle the sleeping guy behind me and find myself in a completely awkward situation. Slowly, I turned myself on my back, staying completely still for a few seconds before I turned myself on my side while coming face to face with Jake.

To say I liked the view before me would be an understatement, I loved the view. Jake looked really peaceful and soft, his eyelids were completely shut, and his mouth was slightly open. Soft puffs of air left Jake's mouth, hitting my cheek and leaving a tingling feeling behind every time. His hair was completely disheveled, giving Jake a fluffy and almost childish but beautiful look.

I softly reached my hand out, stroking Jake's cheek with the tips of my fingers. A small smile started to form on my face while I slowly reached over, not thinking about my next action at all. Without giving it a second thought, I moved my head forward while I closed my eyes. I placed my lips against Jake's forehead, softly placing a small but sweet peck against the smooth skin.

I kept my lips on Jake's forehead for a few seconds before I slowly removed myself from Jake while I opened my eyes. My heart beated like crazy in my chest, and a cherry red color formed on my cheeks. I had just kissed Jake's head... I had just-

Boom! Boom! Boom!

I jolted away from Jake, turning my head around towards the bedroom door.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Another round of harsh knocks sounded through the apartment, this time waking Jake up, who softly grunted out of discomfort.

"What the fuck."

He slowly made his way out of our shared bed, walking towards the bedroom door and opening it. The action immediately being followed by a "Jake fucking Dalton!" that was yelled through the front door. The voice sounding an awful lot like a completely pissed off Kaden.

With a frown on his face, Jake walked downstairs, being followed by me. I had also started to get out of bed and see where all the commotion was coming from. Jake opened the door, only to be met with Kaden's fist, almost colliding with his nose. With a swift move, Jake dodged the fist, not understanding the situation at all.

"What the fuck!?"

Kaden threw another swing at Jake's head, this time hitting him square on his left eye. Jake stumbled back a little from the impact, getting pissed off now that Kaden had actually hit him. Jake charged at Kaden, and within a few seconds, both of them were engulfed in a fist fight, throwing blows at each other like they were each other's biggest enemies.

"What the fuck is your problem bro?" Jake yelled while his fist collided with Kaden's cheek, not showing any mercy at all.

"You..." Kaden spat, blood mixed with his saliva hitting the floor. "You are my fucking problem brat!" He threw another punch towards Jake, missing him by only a hair.

"You and your fucking attitude towards Lex! You made her cry again you fucking idiot!" Kaden tried to launch another punch at Jake, missing him again but getting hit himself in his stomach by Jake who was clearly on the winning hand.

"I told you to fuck off last time, but you've done it again you asshole! This time you won't get away with it brother!" Kaden threw another punch towards Jake, this time with actual success and hitting Jake straight in his face. Blood started to drip from his nose while Kaden spit on the ground for a second time, more blood hitting the floor.

Jake wiped his hand under his nose, giving one quick look at the blood on it before he swung his fist back at Kaden. His fist almost instantly collided with Kaden's mouth, splitting his lip while blood started to pour out of the wound.

"Your fucking girlfriend shouldn't have called me on a fucking saturday night about something that clearly could have waited 'till the next day!" Jake grumbled but soon turned into full out yelling against the pissed off Kaden.

I had seen it all, shocked by the whole scene before me. Never had I seen the two brothers get in a fight with each other, and by the looks of it, they weren't going to stop any time soon. Both Jake and Kaden had blood pouring from different parts of their faces, and soon, bruises would start to go from on multiple parts of their bodies.

If I had learned something from the prison, it was that Jake wouldn't stop fighting, Jake just didn't give up... He never did. Without thinking I sprinted towards the two, not exactly sure what I was going to do, but I was sure that I had to be the one who should stop the fight or else someone would get seriously hurt.

I pushed Jake backward, turning towards Kaden to talk some sense into him, but the complete opposite happened.

Boom!

I stumbled backward, falling hard on my ass on the ground. Tears filled up my eyes, and a warm liquid started to run down from my nose on my chin. An incredible pain spread through my face, and with big eyes, I looked up at Kaden.

Complete silence fell over us, Kaden's face was filled with regret while he looked down at me. He had just hit me square in my face, hitting me full on against my nose, thinking that I was still Jake. I had tumbled backward almost immediately, and not a second later, my nose had started to bleed pretty bad.

"Mc...I'm..." Kaden stuttered, but before he could finish his sentence, Jake already charged at him.

"You are so fucking dead!"

Without any mercy, Jake jumped on Kaden, pushing him to the ground while climbing on him to immediately charge his fists towards Kaden's face. Blow after blow hit Kaden's body when he almost helplessly tried to protect himself from the completely pissed off Jake.

Jake had gone full beast mode, and there was nothing Kaden could do against it. He clearly wasn't in a position to fight back, and his protection was way too weak.

I slowly climbed back up, my eyes growing big at the state Kaden was in and the blows Jake was delivering. Jake eyes looked like they were on fire. Kaden had clearly been beaten multiple times already by Jake. Blood dripped from Kaden's lip, his eyebrow had been split, and a huge bruise was already forming around his right eye.

Once again, I was the only one who would be able to stop the two fighting brothers, and without thinking, I jumped between them a second time. I pushed Jake backward. He charged back immediately, but not before I had placed myself before Kaden.

Jake was ready to hit Kaden again, already charging his fist towards him before he came to a full realization that it wasn't Kaden before him but me. His eyes grew big, stopping his fist right before my face while he kept breathing heavily. I slowly reached my hand up towards his fist, closing my fingers around it while softly pushing it down.

"Alright for fucks sake, stop you two!"

Jake's eyes met mine, his face softening up immediately.

"It's enough, Jake. He's already bleeding badly. Stop it." I whispered, trying to calm him down. Jake quickly looked over at Jake, his eyes instantly getting hard again.

"But he hit you."

I placed my hand on Jake's face, getting his attention back to make sure he wouldn't start a third round with his brother.

"Yeah, but he didn't do it on purpose. Right Kaden?" I slowly turned around, keeping my hand on Jake's face so I would still know where Jake was.

"Of course I didn't." Kaden spat while he slowly crawled back up. "Why the fuck are you even mad about it? It's not like she's your girlfriend or something."

I felt how Jake started to get back up, too, and without thinking, I followed them both, staying positioned between them.

"She might not be my girlfriend, but she's way more important to me than all of you think she is!" Jake whisper shouted before he stormed off towards his bedroom, leaving Kaden's and mine sight completely. With a soft sigh, I turned towards Kaden.

"Please go back to Lex and let her take you to Jessy so she can treat your wounds. You both need to cool down."

Kaden gave me another apology before he walked away to follow my orders and get his wounds treated. I turned around, walking back inside our shared apartment to go towards our freezer and get two ice packs. One for myself and one for Jake.

After washing my face from the dried up blood and cooling my nose, I walked upstairs to our shared bedroom, knocking softly before entering. I found Jake with his back towards me on our bed, soft breaths left his mouth, and his head hung low. I slowly made my way over towards Jake, sitting beside me on the bed while placing my hand on his back to get his attention.

"Jake?" Jake slowly turned his head towards me, small tears in the corners of his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

Jake nodded his head, closing his eyes for a second before he locked them with mine again.

"You've got hurt pretty bad. Please let me help you."

Jake gave me a short nod, and not much later, I had started to clean his face while I cooled some of the bruises. It felt like the prison all over again, and I didn't like it one bit. I hated to see Jake so bruised up, and the fact that this time it was because of his brother made it even worse. I saw how Jake slowly reached his hand up towards my own bruise, placing his fingertips on it while stroking it softly.

"I'm so sorry you got hit, Mc. Thank you for helping me... Again."

A soft smile fell on my face while I kept cooling his bruises.

"It's okay, I shouldn't have come between you two. Kaden didn't mean to hit me."

I looked up at Jake, our faces way closer than before. Our eyes locked again while both of us fell completely still. My heart suddenly started to beat hard in my chest, and butterflies erupted in my stomach.

"Mc, I meant what I said to Kaden. You are really important to me, way more than everybody thinks." Jake whispered while he placed his hand on my cheek. My whole face turned completely red while I cast my eyes downward.

"Mc..." A short silence fell between the two of us before Jake pushed my head up softly.

"Mc..." He tried again, my eyes finally locking with Jake's again. "Please tell me to stop if you don't want this."

Jake slowly leaned over, never hearing a 'stop' from me. Before I could fully register what was happening, soft lips placed themselves against mine. I immediately shut my eyes, getting lost in the feeling of Jake's lips against my own while my whole body felt like it got caught on fire.