#I forgot how long translating things took (especially on phone)

[kingofthering]

Marc Marquez, on the matter of setting up goals and the risks to take to achieve them:

“The most complicated thing is the fact that the goal you want to reach has to be realistic. To say “I want to win every race next season”, is not a goal. It’s a childish non-sense. You have to choose your goals in such a way that they are attainable thanks to energy, focus, preparation, also your knowledge, endurance, and sometimes luck. If the goal is to be a world champion, then that’s the wall to go over [earlier in the chapter, he mentions his way of seeing things as walls to go through]. In this case, there is a wall that isn’t worth going over, it’s to overtake a rival that doesn’t matter in the overall standings, at the risk of your life. For me, understanding this has been a long learning process. I’ve often been asked what was my issue when I was seeing the bike of an opponent in front of mine, and throughout the years, I’ve always said that it was the biggest issue for me. No one is allowed to go in front of my front wheel. The only answer on track has always been to attack without any compromising. And that’s exactly the reason why I’ve fallen so often. Has this state of mind been profitable overall? Absolutely. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have won so many races and I wouldn’t be an 8-times world champion. However, with the experience I’ve acquired today, I’ve come to understand that I no longer needed to win every race, on the condition that it didn’t impede on the main goal, the world championship. If the guy in front of me only has one length on me, beware, I’m going to get him ! But if he’s already a couple of seconds ahead, it’s possible that I don’t do everything in my power to catch him and that I let him be free to go. I don’t see that has a weakening coming with age, rather like a calculation, an additional quality gained with experience.”

[bambikisss]

Through the rain :: W. Dohwan

[ BAMBI'S KDRAMA BOY COLLECTION : PT 1] boyfriend!WooDohwan

SUMMARY : After a sudden rainstorm seemingly cancels your date night with Dohwan, he decides to push through the storm just to see you

WARNINGS : oral (f receiving), Dohwan being a soft dom, in the car, he's a big romantic boi, Dohwan speaking a bit of Portuguese (only an ity bity), unprotected sex (always wrap it up)

Music : Loveeeeee song - Rihanna ft Future, rain sounds

Bambi's notes :: I maay have over indulged in this one with him speaking some Portuguese, but I couldn't help it lol. Don't worry, I did include the translation

Reblogs and comments are encouraged! \ Not proofread

"The rain will continue to pour down until around midnight tonight, so it's advised for everyone to stay inside"

You mentally cursed the poor weatherman as you listened to his report as you watched the rain pour down in what looked like buckets outside in your work lobby. You knew it wasn't his fault and he was just a messenger, but it made you annoyed. You had plans tonight that were seemingly now canceled.

As you listened to your co workers complain loudly about having to rush to their cars in such a rain storm, your phone buzzed with a text from your boyfriend Dohwan.

Baby: Are you ready to leave work, princess?

You raised an eyebrow at his text, checking the time before you texted him back.

You: Yeah, why?

You were only met with a read receipt from him, which wasn't common for him. Dohwan always replied to you, even if it was just a simple "talk to you later" or something else. Before you could dwell more on it, you saw bright headlights fill the lobby as someone parked outside the doors near the overhead. The car door soon opened to show Dohwan, an umbrella over his head as he waved at you, his smile bright like the cutie he was. You felt your heart melt as at his actions, grabbing your things before rushing outside into his arms. He smiled before opening the car door for you, holding the umbrella over you before he went to the driver side.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were at home?" You asked as he began to drive, smiling as his hand rested on your bare thigh. Dohwan shrugged, motioning to the rain that was hitting the car roughly as he drove. "I didn't want you trying to find a taxi home in this weather, especially not when I'm sitting at home all alone waiting for you."

Dohwan always did sweet things for you like this: bringing you lunch at work when you forgot it, surprising you with dinner after a long day at work. To him, that was his job as your boyfriend: to spoil you till you were sick of it, and then some.

As he drove, his hand that was on your thigh moved to press down more into the inside of your thighs, pushing up your skirt slowly as his fingers slowly made their way to your warm prize. "Looks like the rain outside is the only thing that's wet, baby" You tried to not show any reaction to his words, turning your head to the window as his fingers pushed open your thighs. Dohwan noticed you trying to hide your reaction, chuckling as his fingers pressed harder against your thighs, successfully opening your thighs enough to fit his hand.

"How's your Portuguese lessons going?" You blurted out, trying to distract him from his hand's mission to fondle your wet panties. Dohwan had agreed to learn the language as part of a bet, saying that he could learn it within a month and be near fluent. He had been taking lessons to help further his actions as well.

"Bem princesa, diga-me você. Como está meu português, princesa?" (Well princess, you tell me. How is my Portuguese, princess?) Your eyes widened as Dohwan's deep voice spoke in the language, a confident smile on his lips as he felt your body tense. He knew you had a thing for him speaking to you in different languages, plus his voice helped as he knew you loved it too. With your mind now elsewhere, he took it as an opportunity to let his fingers push your now soaked panties to the side, his smirk only growing when he feels how wet you are. "Meu meu meu, você está tão molhada para mim, princesa. Minha voz está te afetando tanto assim ou você vai negar mais?" (My my my, you're so wet for me, princess. Is my voice affecting you this much or are you going to deny it more?) You tried to once again distract yourself, but your mind had become cloudly due to his voice and his fingers now pushing into you at a leisurely pace as he drove. You tried to speak, but only your soft moans slipped through your lips, much to your boyfriend's delight.

After a few more minutes of leisurely fingering you, Dohwan wanted more of you.

"Hey, Dohwan, what are you doing?" Your mind immediately cleared up as Dohwan pulled into a gas station, parking into a spot that was away from the others and under the darkness of the nearby trees and the pouring rain. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he smashed his lips into yours, adding another finger into you as he did so. The kiss swallowed up your moans as his fingers sped up, curling in you as you tried to keep up with him in the kiss. Dohwan's lips then began to move down your neck, kissing wherever he could as your hips began to move with his hand, rolling your hips as his fingers hit your spot.

"Backseat, princess. I gotta taste you" Dohwan rested back in his seat as he turned the car off, his fingers that were in you now in his mouth as he watched you climb into the backseat of his car. He watched you in the rearview mirror take off your panties and push up your skirt, making him glad that your date night plans were canceled due to the rain storm. He soon joined you, taking your panties from you as he kissed your thighs, placing them into his pocket before he wasted no time in shoving his tongue into your wet cunt. You immediately gripped his hair as his tongue lapped up your wetness, his hands gripping your hips as he continues to fuck you with his tongue, catching any wetness that leaks from you.

"Does this turn you on, baby? Hearing me talk dirty to you in Portuguese?" He chuckled against your clit as you nodded, his lips wrapping around it as he says "Você nem sabe o que estou dizendo, mas você ama tanto. Você é muito fofa minha princesa" (You don't even know what I'm saying, yet you love it so much. You're so cute, my princess)

Your eyes were now closed as you basically rode his tongue, just like you had done to his fingers just a few moments prior. You could feel your own high coming, stars now appearing behind your eyelids as Dohwan sped up his movements, gripping your ass to hold you still as he moves faster. His moans of approval against you pushes you over the edge, your moan echoing in the car as you cum, your thighs shaking against his face. Dohwan smirks as he cleans you up before resting you back against the seat, his strong jaw and bottom half of his face wet as he gently praises you, kissing back up your body before he meets your lips, kissing you so you could taste yourself on his tongue. "Hmm, see how sweet you taste, baby. Do you see why I'm so addicted to how you taste?" You raise an eyebrow at his words and his cheeky grin, gently shoving his shoulder as you try to relax.

Dohwan laughs softly before climbing back into the front seat, turning the car back on before he drives to a gas pump, grabbing his umbrella before he asks "I'm going to get gas while we're here, do you want anything from inside?"

However, his words fall on deaf ears as you're still trying to relax from your orgsam. Hearing your lack of response, he shrugs before getting out of the car, going inside to pay for gas as you crawl back into the passenger seat. You could feel yourself getting tired, laying your head against the window as you listen to the rain hit your car window, slowly lulling you to sleep.

Which gets interrupted by your boyfriend.

You jump as Dohwan knocks on the window, motioning for you to open the door. When you do, he hands you a slightly wet bag full of snacks and random drinks. "You didn't respond, so I just got us a variety that we can snack on later at home" You thank him, closing the door once more as he moves to pump gas into the car. You once again let the rain lull you to sleep, not even waking up when Dohwan gets back in the car and drives you home.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

"Looks who is finally out of the shower"

You roll your eyes as you exit the bathroom, the steam from the shower pouring from the bathroom while you dry your hair. Dohwan had set up the snacks he had bought along with the drinks out on the bed as he had picked out the movie for you both to watch, holding his hand out to you to join him on the bed. You smile before walking to the bed, sitting with your back against his chest as he puts on the movie.

As the movie plays, you notice Dohwan's hand resting on your hips, his fingers playing with the fabric of your sleep top as the movie slowly becomes background noise with the rain. You place your head back onto his shoulder as he kisses your neck, the kisses starting off soft and sweet to now leaving hickies, his tongue flowing suit to lick behind the marks he's left behind. Your eyes close as he pulls up your shirt more, his hands moving to grab your breasts, which fit perfectly in his hands. Your mewls of pleasure only fuel Dohwan's need for you, grinding his hardening cock against your ass, his boxers and your underwear being the only barrier between you both, his breath becoming hot against your neck.

"Fuck, Dohwan" Your words come out a bit broken as your boyfriend's warm hands fondle your breasts, his fingers occasionally twisting and playing with your nipples as you meet his movements against his hardening cock. Dohwan only smirks against your neck, his hips now moving faster to meet your ass before he couldn't take it, pushing you forward onto the bed so your chest is against the sheets as his hands now rip your panties in half. "I never cared for those pair of panties anyways, baby. I'll buy you better ones that you can wear for me"

You were about to protest when you felt the head of his precum covered cock press against your wet cunt, slowly filling you up as you grip the sheets for leverage. You knew what was coming next, looking behind you just as he tossed away his shirt, his hips meeting the plush of your ass as he completely fills you up.

"Alright, baby, back that ass up on me so I can fuck you so good" You nodded at his words, moving backwards till you both were sure that his cock was deep in you before he pulls out, thrusting back into you with so much force that it rocks you forward. You moan loudly as he grips your hips, driving his cock deep into your pussy. You let the mixture of rain and the sound of your skin meeting his drown out your cries, your eyes rolling back a bit as your boyfriend licks a stripe up your back before cursing in your ear.

"Fuck baby, you're fucking drooling. Am I fucking you so good that you can't think, hmm? Like the cock drunk fucking princess you are for me" His words are rough, letting you know that he's just as close as you are, how movements speeding up as he chases his release, making you moan louder. You grip his arms as you both cum, both of you falling onto the bed slightly as you both feel your wetness coat each other.

After a few moments you feel Dohwan pulling out, laying next to you before giggling softly, his brain now fuzzy due to the orgsam. His eyes soon meet yours, his smile growing wider as he looks at you. "Best date night ever"

You couldn't help but laugh, smacking his arm before you laid down next to him, the sound of the movie and rain once again fighting off the quietness between you and your boyfriend. You lay your head on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his skin as he slowly falls asleep, holding your hand as he does so, you soon following after.

He was right, this was the best date night ever.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

Made by Bambi : 7/20/2023

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S02E14 - Tunnel Vision

We reached Tunnel Vision! Yes!

Filming an indie in an abandoned and dangerous mine. What could possibly go wrong?

Why? It's dark, muddy, cold... I really don't see why.

Oh, I forgot Sarah was annoyed to be working that case.

"And I took that personally."

Rex too, actually. He was like, "Sarah doesn't want to be with us?"

"You're not supposed to be friends with the talent when you're a PA". In this indie non-union production? Give me a break.

"I'm devastated about the murder. How soon can we continue filming?" Producers.

Oh, Jesse.

Rex: Oh, I'm sorry, were you supposed to be scary?

Last episode we uncovered how many crooked cops? And you refuse to believe that the SJPD is capable of leaking information to the press?

Jesse the drama queen.

"According to the legend's curse, we have 24 hours to live". First of all, what is this Walmart The Ring? Second, why would the curse extend to you?

Charlie: Don't tell me it was Caleb. Sarah: Ghosts don't typically leave prints. It's one of the perks of the afterlife.

"Antiques on wheels". Oh no lol. To be fair, and I don't know if anyone does this in other countries, but in Greece you will often come up on on-the-road junk dealers willing to help you part with your old stuff and load them in their truck to maybe find something useful later or just to sell them for scraps. They drive through neighborhoods announcing themselves on their bullhorn. I definitely can't call them antique dealers, though, because more often than not they'll leave with some old washing machine that someone couldn't bother to handle themselves rather than antiques. It's mostly junk.

"A lot of tunnels in this place. You go down the wrong one, I might never see you again". I'd worry about myself, Charlie. Rex has a giant nose to get himself out of that place.

Foreshadowing. Sorry, Charlie, but you'll have to get used to tight spaces.

"I hate mushrooms. They ruin pizza. And smurfs live in them". First of all, how dare you? Mushrooms make pizza awesome.

Jesse, come on.

Like any dog, Rex's ears are fine-tuned to recognize the word "walk" immediately.

Aw, Sarah chuckling as she sees Charlie putting the luminescent shoulder collar (I'm just spouting words at this point, I have not idea what it's called) on Rex. You cannot tell me that Charlie's care of Rex had not been one of the reasons she fell in love with him.

He truly is so caring with Rex, though.

Where are they getting this? I haven't found anything to support this.

We have established that we shouldn't yell in the mine and yet Rex is barking and Charlie is yelling at the suspect. And then Ian is yelling and Nell is yelling... I mean, do all y'all wish to die inside this mine?

The collapse scene and the scene with the cave-in afterwards are adequate. Especially since they don't have a major production's budget. Also, the ensuing whump is good.

Of course no one knows they're there. Why? Because they didn't learn from getting stuck in the freezer.

Why does Rex look like he wants to say hell no lol

The text was a smart idea.

I don't envy those who had to make gifs with that near darkness.

Rex while trying to make it through all the mud and debris: I hate it here.

Ian passed out. Good for us.

Translation: Who the fuck cares about him. I want you to live.

Hands. Also, his hand is huge???

Meanwhile, Jesse is reading about fictional people dying while ignoring his phone that could tell him that his ACTUAL FRIENDS ARE DYING!

Stop deflecting with humor. She's opening her heart. Also, I'm pretty sure it's "I'm happy here".

He called her Truong. I don't know why I liked that. It's one of the things that bother me in cop shows, when they barely say each other's first names.

"I just want you to know... I love working with you". Okay, and what else? "And Rex". And what else? Agh, why did you stop?

"I'm glad. Because you're going to be stuck with us for a long time". Normally, I'd be annoyed that an important conversation finally happened and it was in the dark in a collapsed mine but the drama!

Jesse: *finally reads Charlie's text* Oh my god, they're trapped AGAIN!

Can we do this again now??? Pretty please???

Rex: Oh no, I have to go back in there?

Charlie woke up immediately when he heard Rex lol

I know they probably ran out of budget and couldn't show how they dug out Charlie and Sarah.

And we have a murderer to unmask still.

Nice trick, pitting the couple against each other.

This is one of the many times that Charlie has been through a traumatic event and he just brushes it off. Just saying, in case any writers are listening and want to explore this on screen. (They're not. It's fine.)

Well, that was good. Also, if you didn't ship them after Over Ice, you'll surely ship them after this one.

[elvesandlanterns]

Ghost helpline part 16- Everyone goes home

Billy walked out of the, surprisingly opened at 3 am, art store with bags of painting supply. Ducking into an alley, he transformed. He felt a lot better.

Alright he was ready to head for Gotham, after all his family was waiting for him there.

Now how to get around the Bats, he could probably avoid them if he walked in Bludhaven right?

- “Ow! What the hell! Billy???” The kid had decided to detransform mid air and ended up on top of the small vampire.

“Jack?”

The two looked at each other, “Holly shit are you bleeding! Did I do that?”

“What no of course not! I just got caught up with some bigoted werewolf.” Reds blood was already dry, skin scared as if the encounter had taken place days ago. “Billy what are you even doing here?!”

“Finished that pie at the diner and took a walk around the place. Was just starting to head home”

Translation: I’m done with my mission and patrol of Fawcett and am trying to go home.

“And you didn’t take the short cut home because?”

Billy quizzically raised an eyebrow, seriously what does my sister see in this guy? “ Taking the long way seemed like a safer bet, especially in a town like this.”

Translation: Do you want me to get caught by the Batman ?? Huh? Do you?

“Right, we should get going there’s no telling if that wolf will come back. Need a lift?”

“Can’t we just call Dandy to pick us up?”

Red shook his head, “No can do, he left to go pick up Violet chances are he’s barely coming back into town.”

“What do you mean pick Violet up? Where is she?!?”

“It’s a whole thing, just look I am not comfortable being here right now. Don’t you know wolves travel in packs? Do you want a lift or not!?!?”

“Fine.” Jack hoisted Billy over his shoulder, “This is humiliating.”

“Hardy har har, I may be a weak vampire but even I can care you in this form. Now hold tight.”

They disappeared in a blur of pink.

And Nightwing set down the binoculars, this was going to be a long report.

—-

Dandy was ready to strangle them.

“Hold on hold on we can just check the mirror again!”

“Flipping flapjacks, where the heck is Small-ville?”

Klarion could feel Dandy’s eyes burning into him. Whoops, “Well I at least need to know what state we’re in for me to teleport more accurately… so.”

Danka smiled, “So we ask for directions! We are literally on top of a farm right now - someone has got to be here!”

“Well not like we got any other plans here.”

A short walk, a pie and a conversation later Klarion managed to teleport them to the mansion.

Dandy couldn’t enjoy it for a minute. He stopped dead in his tracks, “Klarion, we forgot the car.”

—- —- —-

Bruce’s neck hurt, did he sleep on the

bat-puter again? No it was too soft. He shifted and opened his eyes… he was on a couch? Oh, OH. That wasn’t suppose to happen, he couldn’t have been that tired. The tv was off, and there was a blanket on top of him.

Vlad was gone and the lights were dimmed.

Great he had made a fool out of himself.

Right, it was time to leave. Right now. He could apologize later but he had to leave.

CRASH!

Bruce jolted into action. The sound came from upstairs.

// He’s so going to get robbed.//

Dick was right, for god sakes the house didn’t even have cameras!

Bruce ran up the stairs.

CRash! ThUd! “Ow damn nmit”

Oh that didn’t sound like a criminal… that sounded like a kid.

Two doors opened, Vlad and a little boy came out of them.

The kid had black hair and blue eyes, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Billy!”

“Whatever old man, next time just let us know before you bring some side piece over.”

Oh good god he was another Jason.

——

Bruce got into his car and went home.

He left felling giddy and guilty, holding Vlad’s number.

Dick knew better to keep secrets from The Batman, so he wasn’t going to lie. He just also wasn’t going to tell him what happened to his face. If Bruce really needed to know what happened tonight he could read the report on it.

—- —- —-

Violet stares at the phone longer than necessary, she’s got one shot at this. Don’t fuck up.

She plucks a number out of her inventory and dials.

Violet has never been close to Bradley, he was quiet and reserved. He insisted that she couldn’t do anything without help, well on the upside if someone thinks you’re useless it’s not like you can disappoint them more than you already do.

“Hey Brad, can you come pick me up… I’m at a pub… yeah again…”

- Brad hung up the phone and abandoned his brothers at the movie theater. His sister had called him, him! Not Dandy or Danka or Klarion! She had called him! And now he he had a little sister to save!

He checked the time on his Lock Screen, a picture of Violet having a stuffed animal tea party, it was his prized possession. His little baby sister was just so adorable and kind. And if anyone in Gotham hurt her there was going to be hell to pay! - literally!

—- —- —-

[suckitsurveys]

Do you ever do these surveys with your SO? Nah, he’s not interested. I have done them with friends in the past back in the Xanga/MySpace days.

have you ever totally lied or made up ridiculous answers for surveys? Oh sure, sometimes if a question reminds me of a quote or a lyric I’ll put that instead of an actual answer.

do animal furs upset you? I wouldn’t say they upset me, but it’s not something I’m interested in owning.

who picks the music when you’re riding in the car? I’m usually the one driving so usually me.

do you have a waste basket in your car? I do.

what’s the Spanish name for your favourite food? I don’t think there’s a translation for “sushi” in Spanish.

do you know anyone who regularly uses a bike for transportation? One of my sister’s friends.

do you consider audio books not really reading? I mean, by definition, you’re not “reading” but I don’t discounted it as having “read” the book.

strangest thing you’ve ever put in the trunk of a car? A giant cardboard watermelon my friend took from working at Target lol.

do you carry matches or a lighter? No.

do you keep socks with a hole in them if they are your favorites? Nah.

have you ever mended clothing? Yes.

last time you wore clothes that were too small on you? I have a couple of shirts I wear under things that are “too small” for me but other than that I don’t really do that.

have you ever frightened someone on purpose. not as a tease but to seriously scare them? No.

what’s the most shocking thing you’ve ever found out about someone that you know personally? I don’t know, probably lots of shit.

have you ever had something taken away from you by airport security? No. They almost took my Instax printer away from me once though. They made me open it and take out the film and explain what it was lol.

what’s the last wild animal you have seen? Birds.

something you were surprised to learn about your parent’s childhood? Dude I don’t know I don’t have the brain capacity for this right now ahahah.

do you store any non food items in the fridge? No.

have you ever told a friend you thought their parent was hot? No.

what was the last thing you bought from a gumball machine? When Ellen and I went to Chinatown a few months ago they had a whole store with them in there (I’m blanking on the name they call them) but I got a little Pikachu figurine and a bubble tea keychain.

how long ago was that? A few months ago lol.

have you ever destroyed another person’s belongings out of anger? Nothing major.

plain band aids or fun ones? Either, whatever’s available.

which pain killer do you use? Naproxen.

have you ever used someone else’s Rx med? Yeah.

have you ever borrowed underwear from a friend? I don’t think so.

would you like to be part of a wedding party? I have been, three times.

last pair of shoes you threw out and why? A pair of very worn out Birkenstocks.

have you ever thrown anything up to hang on the power/phone lines? No.

have your parents asked you to explain a term and you lied because it was inappropriate? Not that I can recall.

have you ever really stayed up all night to do homework? Yes.

last thing you couldn’t find because you put it someplace safe and forgot where you put it? I’m not sure.

have you ever had anything stolen from you? Yes.

have you had your house broken into? No.

if you could make up one rule for all your friends, what would it be? That sounds controlling af.

do you pay attention to people’s posture? I do, especially tall, lanky people. I think its adorable when tall people don’t know how to be tall lol.

do you have a creepy uncle, or have a friend who has one? No.

have you ever backed into a cactus? ouch! No.

do any of your relatives not have home internet? It’s possible.

when you get the munchies, do you want sweet or salty? Salty.

Something you taught yourself how to do? Stay alive.

[babycharmander]

If you think you have never stolen artwork, read this post.

So, art theft. If you've been a follower of mine, you've heard my barely-coherent rants about this before, but I thought it might be more productive to make a more coherent post on the subject.

If you're wondering about the title of the post here, it's because I feel like a lot of people aren't really grasping what exactly art theft is, and a LOT of people, even well-meaning ones, do it without even realizing it.

"But wait," you say. "I would never STEAL from an artist!! I never claim it as my own!" And that's all fine and good, but you're missing something here.

To start things off, what IS art theft? (It's not what deviantART said it was several years back, I'll tell you that much. *cough*)

We all know what art is, so let's talk about theft. Dictionary.com defines "theft" as "the act of stealing; the wrongful taking and carrying away of the personal goods or property of another; larceny." Okay, makes sense, but what about that other word there, stealing? Dictionary.com defines "steal" as "to take (the property of another or others) without permission or right, especially secretly or by force."

From those definitions, we can go on to define art theft as, specifically, "taking art without permission or right." In the context of art, that typically involves reposting it (not reblogging--reblogging is different) or using it for other things.

And there, my friends, is the issue.

If something is taken or used without permission, it is stolen. Permission is the important thing here--if an artist says "oh yeah, you can go ahead and use this!" then it's not stolen. You have their permission. But if you DON'T have that, then it IS stolen. It IS theft.

"But I'm not claiming it as my own!" you say. But you don't have to claim it as your own--the act of taking it in and of itself is an act of theft.

"But I said 'credit to the artist!'" The "credit" thing is a whole other conversation, but here's the short of it: The entire point of credit is to direct people to the source of something. If you are not directly linking to where you got the art from, you are not giving credit. "Credit to the artist" is not actually credit of any kind whatsoever. (Also, Google and Pinterest are not sources.)

"But I DID link back to the artist!" Okay, now this is where it may get confusing, because you may think you're covered because you actually did give credit. Here's the problem: if you reposted it or used it without permission, regardless of whether you gave credit or not, it's still stealing.

I'm bolding this because it's a point that a lot of people get tripped up on. Let me explain it this way: If you went into your neighbor's house and took something of theirs without their permission, but you told people "oh yeah, I got this from [neighbor]'s house!" that that would still, of course, be stealing, and it's no different for art.

Another thing is that even when you credit, people don't always check the source. Very recently I found a case where someone had reposted a piece of artwork of mine to Pinterest that was deliberately made to look like it came from the source material (it wasn't meant to confuse anyone, though--the description of my original post made it very clear that it was fanart). The person who reposted had linked back to my original post. The problem? The comments had people asking if this was official, where it happened in the source material, etc. Despite the fact that the source was right there, no one thought to look at it.

Even if you link back to the source, if you did it without the artist's permission, it's still stealing, and still causes problems for us artists.

"But I just posted it to my Pinterest--" DO NOT DO THIS. DO NOT POST AN ARTIST'S WORK TO PINTEREST IF YOU DO NOT HAVE THEIR EXPLICIT PERMISSION TO DO SO.

"But this artist friend of mine says they're okay if I post their work to my Pinterest so long as I link back to them!" Good for your friend! But the fact that your friend is okay with it doesn't mean that all artists are okay with it. For me, personally, I am very not okay with my work being posted to Pinterest, and say as much on my art blog description and posts (which people tend to ignore).

The problem with Pinterest--and reposting art in general--is that we artists don't know when it happens unless we're told, or unless we find it ourselves. It causes us to lose control of our art. And because of this, our art can spiral further out of our control, because when our works get posted to Pinterest or other similar websites, people who have no grasp whatsoever on how art works will just take it as "free art" and then use it for whatever they want.

That's how a piece I spent 20+ hours on was used as a poster for a paid event, without my permission, and without any payment or credit to me.

If an artist has said nothing about Pinterest (or other similar image sharing sites), your default should be to assume that they don't want their artwork posted there.

"Well I didn't repost someone's art, but I did use it for my avatar/RPing icon/video/fic cover/photo edit--" That's still stealing. If you're using it without their permission for any reason, that is stealing. Not to mention, the artist may not be cool with what you're using their art for anyway. (Looking at you, people who use platonic art in your shipping videos.)

“I MEANT to ask them for permission, but I forgot!” This can ONLY happen if you used the artwork BEFORE you asked for permission. You can resolve this by asking for permission BEFORE you use it, rather than assuming the answer will be “yes” and using it before asking.

"But it took me a really long time to make that icon/video/cover/edit!!" How long do you think it took the original artist to draw their piece? It doesn't matter how much work you put into modifying someone else's art--if you're doing it without their permission, you're still stealing.

"But I couldn't find the original artist! I tried to find them, I really did, but I couldn't. Is it okay to use their art then?" No, because you still don't have permission, and by reposting it anyway, you’re continuing to make the artwork spiral out of their control.

"What if I found the artist, but they speak a different language from mine? I can't ask them for permission, so is it okay if I repost their art anyway?" NO!! DO NOT DO THIS!! If there is a language barrier, use Google translate or find someone to translate for you and get a hold of the artist that way to ask them for their permission. The language barrier is NEVER an excuse to steal artwork. There are plenty of non-English-speaking artists who have taken ALL OF THEIR ARTWORK OFFLINE because the art theft was completely out of control. (And this isn't just exclusive to English-speakers stealing art from people who don't speak their language. It happens artists who don't speak English stealing art from English-speakers, too, but as this post is written in English it doesn't do much good for me to rant about this here.) If you can’t ask their permission, do not use it!!

"But what about reblogging?! Isn't that the same as reposting?? Should we not reblog art at all then?" No, reblogging (or retweeting) is not the same as reposting. If you reblog art, you keep all the information that we attached to the art, including our blog name and the description attached to the art. Reblogging/retweeting actually helps us artists A LOT, so as long as you're reblogging from the original artist (and not someone who's reposting their art), by all means, reblog our art!

"What if I just want to share someone else's artwork on Discord or show it to a friend?" This one's a bit different and is not actually as problematic. If you want to share our work on Discord or whatever, just link directly to where we posted it. Please don't post the art itself, unless you're doing it alongside a link because Discord won't show a preview or something.

"What about a forum or a site like Reddit?" This one's a bit different, since due to the way Reddit functions, if you LINK to the art, you have to go directly to the artist's original page to view it. (At least, that’s what it’s like the last time I was active there.) In a way it's roughly the same as with Discord--be sure you're linking directly to the actual post rather than just uploading the art on its own--but I would also ask the artist if they're okay with it, because they may be a member of the subreddit or forum and want to post it themselves, or they might not want their work shared to specific communities. (Some communities have a function where a bot will repost the artwork to Imgur, and some artists don't want that done with their art.)

"What if I'm saving it to my computer/phone to look at later, or making it into my desktop/phone wallpaper?" IMO this is fine, since your computer/phone files aren't public, and neither is your wallpaper. It's only a problem when you post it to public places without our permission.

"What if it's art I commissioned?" Well... like... in that case, it's art you paid for, so unless the artist you commissioned laid out very specific terms for you, you should be good to use that art. Like, at most, the artist may ask you to credit them somewhere in your blog description if they drew your icon or something, or credit them in a fic description if you commissioned a fic illustration from them, or something to that effect. It's really something you should have already worked out with the artist beforehand, but for the most part you should probably be fine to use art you paid for however you like.

"What about art I requested?" This is a bit different from commissioned work. Just because the art was drawn at your request doesn't mean it's explicitly yours (unless it's like, a drawing of your original character or something). Some artists take requests more as suggestions, so the art they draw in response to a suggestion or request is still theirs. Treat this as you would any other artwork and ask the artist for permission first before you do anything with the artwork you requested from them.

“What about NFTs?” ... Okay this one I can’t really go over too much because I barely understand it in the first place, but NFTs are BAD for artists and are a form of art theft. Do not turn people’s art into NFTs. This is a crappy thing to do. (If you want more information on this one, you’ll have to look it up yourself. It’s a form of cryptocurrency and it’s confusing.)

“If you don’t want your art stolen you shouldn’t post it in the first place.” This is fascinating logic. Try applying it to something else and see how it holds up. “If you don’t want your merchandise stolen, you shouldn’t open a booth.” “If you don’t want to get poisoned you shouldn’t eat food.” “If you don’t want to get punched in the face, don’t walk outside.” Yes. Flawless logic. Truly.

"Why do you care so much, anyway?! I'm sharing your art because I like it! That's a compliment! Shouldn't you be happy?" Well, we're certainly glad you like our art, but the problem is... as I've said before, reposting our art causes us to lose our control over it. When we lose control of our art, that damages our livelihood. As I said before, other people have made money off of my artwork. As well, some artists lose jobs because when their potential employers check out their portfolio, they may find artwork that's been reposted everywhere online, so they cannot hire the artist because they believe they may have stolen the artwork in their own portfolio.

Your reposting an image you thought was cute to Facebook or Pinterest could cost an artist their job. Think about that.

So, tl;dr, keep this in mind: you need the artist's permission to repost or use their artwork. If you do not have it, it is stealing, even if you credit the artist.

I know this post is really harsh in places, but this is such an important thing for all artists, and there's so many misconceptions about art theft online. And I feel like one of the biggest problems is that when some people see posts on art theft, they ignore them, because they think they've never done it or would never do it, so that's why I worded this post the way I did. I'm not trying to hurt anyone--I just want people to understand what art theft is, how it affects us artists, and how you can avoid it. Thank you for reading.

[ramp-it-up]

Request:

Y/N is for one year in America and try to learn the language More (she is from Germany ).

Chris saw her at target and realized that she was kind of lost and was loved to help her 👀

Okayyyy Nonnie! How's this for a challenge?

At first I didn't know how I was going to get there from here, but I cruised IG for some German inspiration. As a result, instead of Y/N, reader is named Maëlle. I also struggled with the knowledge that most Germans know more English than Americans know of any other language, but this is all in fun. 😛

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (Maëlle)

Word Count: Around 2K

Warnings: 18+, RPF, MINORS DNI, CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE, not proofread, Google Translate for the German, verry limited American knowledge of Germans and German culture, not full on Smut, but smutty thots, thoughts of oral sex, fingering, degradation kink, allusions to Dom! behavior, disregarding of stranger danger, the Red Sox, and an age gap.

Maëlle

**********************************

One of your goals when you got settled was to go to Target, Ziel when you arrived in Boston for your graduate exchange year at Boston University.

You understood a great deal of English and could speak many phrases, but you’d hoped your year in America would make you fluent.

You were proud that you were able to get from the BU Student Union to the store. You surprised yourself with the ease that you used your phone to help you translate for what you needed.

Now, you were standing in front of the doors, almost in tears, trying to find where your Uber was to pick you up.

You didn’t pay attention to which way you entered and you needed to find VanNess street. It was about to leave. You suddenly felt helpless, hilflos.

—-

Chris needed to pick up some sunscreen before the game, he couldn't afford a burn right before filming. Even though he had his Red Sox cap on, he still needed some high grade sunblock.

He hurried through the doors of the Target near Fenway Park, head down, trying not to get recognized.

He passed by some beautiful long bronze legs and followed them up a smoking hot body clothed in a scarlet Boston University t-shirt tied up tight and short blue jean skirt.

Your face was framed by waist length blonde braids and your eyes were the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

Your lips deserved ten minutes all on their own, but he kept it moving, not wanting to seem creepy.

You were gorgeous, although you looked flustered. Chris didn’t slow his roll, because you were probably waiting on someone.

When he came back through, five minutes later, he heard your voice and slowed down. He was surprised, but shouldn’t have been. There were black people all over the world.

Even in Germany.

“Kannst du mir zeigen, wo die Van Ness Street ist? Can you tell me? Where is Van Ness Street?”

Your accent was heavy, but passersby just assumed you were crazy or joking with them and ignored you.

Chris was ashamed. That wasn’t what he wanted Boston to be. Even though he was close to being late for the first pitch, he stopped for you. He summoned some German from filming in Europe.

“Kann ich Ihnen helfen?” It was one thing he knew how to say with perfect inflection.

You perked up and smiled at him. “Ach bist du Deutscher? You’re German?”

You looked into the face of the handsome stranger. His eyes. Verdammt!

Chris melted a little bit. When you smiled, you were even more beautiful. Chris smiled back at you, smitten. He laughed.

“No. Italian.”

You understood, but you were confused. Why was this handsome American saying he was Italian and speaking to you in German? And why was he so familiar?

“Oh, Ich entschuldige mich. Sorry.” You smiled again, and Chris forgot all about the game. He wanted to try to talk to you for hours.

“No worries, he said. “Bitte?”

This handsome man’s German was indeed poor. He’d fooled you. He was a good actor. Something pinged in the back of your mind, but you overlooked it. Somehow, he’d made you feel better.

“Ich habe meinen Uber vermisst. Uber, gone!” You made a motion with your hand. “Kannst du mir zeigen, wo die VanNess Street ist?”

“Ohhhh! VanNess is this way,” he pointed toward the other side of the store, and he started leading you through.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you followed him.

You neared the electronics department and there was a giant movie display with dvds. The man saw it, pulled up, stopped, grabbed your hand and quickly led you back the other way.

You were confused.

“Come to think of it, I’ll give you a ride, my car is back out this way. Druben?”

Chris was not going to ruin his afternoon and a chance to talk to you by getting caught signing autographs in Target. He loved his fans, but he already liked you.

You followed him back out of the sliding doors to the parking lot and a blank Range Rover. You just went along with him, your hand feeling at home in his.

Then the panic set in.

You didn’t know this man from Adam.

Your mother had warned you about getting kidnapped by an American serial killer. This was it. You hated it when she was right.

“Wait!”

You said it perfectly, and the man caught your anxiety.

Chris stopped as he tried to open the door for you. He looked into your worried eyes. Shit, he’d gotten carried away. He looked down to where your hands were still locked.

He couldn’t help but smile at them. You smiled, too. Then he looked at you, blue eyes looking like the sea. You smiled back, somehow knowing that you were safe. You leaned back on the car.

“I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Christopher, what is yours?”

“Maëlle.”

Your smile was brightening his entire life. He was into you.

“That’s beautiful. Das ist schön?”

You smiled wider at his compliment. Then you bit your lip. Chris' knees got weak and he took a step closer to you to regain balance.

You were in each other’s space, Chris looking down at you and you at him. You were both getting warm even though it was a cool September day.

Chris pulled your hand instinctively, and you were even closer, your fingers entwined in his close to his thigh, which you could sense flexing through his jeans.

You were staring at his lips and he was doing the same as the butterflies flew around your stomach.

Were you really considering kissing someone you’d just met in Target? What would your mother think?

That thought made you smirk.

“What are you thinking?”

He was leaning over you, his voice in a lower register now. His breath tickled your ear and made you moan slightly.

Chris wanted to know what was going on in that mind of yours, if you were as crazy as he was feeling this kind of connection so fast.

You understood exactly what he was saying, but you just cocked your head and smiled as if you didn’t. You didn’t want him to think that you were thinking of his hands all over you, in your most intimate places.

Chris took a deep breath, trying to clear his head and regain blood flow to his brain. His cock was hard being this close to you and he had to regain composure.

He wasn’t that reckless kid he used to be, but man he wanted to do some depraved things to you. Like drag his tongue up your…

He had to stop. Chris took a step back.

You watched as his tongue peeled out to lick his bottom perfect pink lip. It was strange, but you felt like you knew him. And you wanted him to know you. Intimately.

And now those perfect lips were moving, but you weren’t paying close enough attention to translate what he was saying.

“Can I give you a lift to campus?”

You cocked your head in that pretty way again. He wondered what it would be like to feel your lips. On his lips. On his tattoos, around his…

Chris cleared his throat and tried to think of the words.

“Kann ich mitnehmen?”

He was so cute. You smiled brighter and nodded, “Yes, Christopher.”

Then you gestured to your bra-less breasts in your thin t-shirt. Chris could tell your nipples were hard. He licked his lips and looked around. This was a development.

Then he got your message. He shook his head, chuckling that his thoughts were in the gutter.

“Ooooooh! Boston University! You’re on campus. Yeah, that’s right near here. I’ll take you.”

“Danke. Thanks you, Christopher.”

Your smile would be the end of him. He had to think of a creative way to get your number.

“Hey! Let’s take a picture!” He had his phone out.

You were confused, but maybe this is what Americans did to get to know each other. Take pictures with strangers.

He took a couple of pics and then opened the door for you.

You brushed past him to get in, and Chris allowed his eyes to take in your form, especially your shapely legs.

You noticed him checking you out, and immediately got goosebumps, your nipples hardening again. Your panties were a little moist.

“Let’s just get you… “

Chris reached across you for the seatbelt with his right hand, face coming near yours as he leaned into the car.

“Buckled in…”

Now you were sure your panties were soaked.

Chris allowed his mind to go places, like your pussy, which he was sure was sweet, wet, hot and…

“….Tight.”

Chris gulped, trying not to drool all over you, although he would love to spit in your mouth and make you swallow as he fucked you raw.

“Danke.”

You whispered behind a breathy moan. You wanted not only to ride in this man’s car. You wanted to ride this man in his car.

Your eyes flickered down to his jeans and that’s when Chris realized that he had a raging hard on. He quickly put his hand in his pocket, trying to play it off, flashed a smile and closed the door quickly.

You giggled at how huge what you thought you saw was. You fanned yourself while you waited for him to get in trying to remember your decorum.

Chris stood outside the back of the car for a minute, trying to catch his breath and think. He had to be at least 15 year older than you, he just met you, and you didn’t speak English. None of this made sense.

He was going to drop you off at campus and try to be at the game for the second inning. And act his age.

Christopher got back in the car, much more formal, and started driving.

He looked over to see your legs open and started to wonder how easy it would be to reach over and under your skirt, pull your panties to the side, if you were wearing any, and…

Chris cleared his throat and focused on the road.

You could tell the air had changed. He was different. You wondered what happened.

You looked at his profile and decided that he was turned off by you being so forward. You decided to straighten up, so you did so, literally and figuratively.

You sat up straight and crossed your legs, like prim and proper young ladies do.

The curve of your spine and the crossing of your legs made Chris irrationally angry. It was like you were closing yourself off to him. Then he remembered.

You didn’t know each other.

You pointed out where to go as you neared your apartment. Chris pulled up in front of your unit and you both started talking.

“Danke, Christopher.”

“Hey, Maëlle…”

You both chuckled. Chris continued.

“Let me send you that photo. What’s your number?” He was fiddling with his phone. Then handed it to you. “Type it in for me.”

You grinned wide and his sly smile answered you. Now you understood. You entered your number and handed it back to him, your fingers sparking as you touched.

You were breathless.

“Well…”

“Christopher…”

You two interrupted each other again.

This time you continued.

“Thank you.”

You leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Chris closed his eyes. Your lips felt as soft as he imagined. He wanted to do the whole turn his head trick but he wasn’t 23 anymore. But you sure made him feel like it.

He did turn to look at you as you got out of the car and waved after you closed it. You swung your bag in one hand as you walked toward the building, also swinging your hips, watching him as he drove away.

Chris watched you too, as far as he could in the rearview. When you disappeared from sight, he said, “Fuck it,” did a uturn and peeled rubber back to your apartments. He rolled down the window.

“Maëlle! Maëlle!” You stopped just before you reached your door. Chris grinned at you. “You ever been to an American baseball game before?”

You skipped back down the walk happily, grinning back as you leaned in the open window. You cocked your head in that way.

“No, but I like playing wit the balls.”

Chris groaned. He couldn’t tell if you were talking about sports or something else. But he’d figure it out later. You climbed in the car, winked at him and crossed your legs.

Chris licked his lips as he drove back toward Fenway Park, thinking about how he would teach you about keeping your legs open that night.

——

Hope it’s okay Nonnie! ❤️

@olyvoyl @summerofsnowflakes @sillyteecup @riiyy @honeysucklechocolatedrippin @theselilwonders @lonelydance @chattykathysquietsister @anh1020 @nissameta1782 @betterkeepmewetterthanabayou @jbrizzywrites @stilltoyou @donutloverxo @wallowsgirl14 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @kiwisa @food8me @aiikaa @marvelfansworld @justanormalfangirlsworld @lost-in-a-state-of-mind @london-grunge @pheebsyells @douxtille @thesecretlifeofdaydreams @ximaginex @jdmacca92 @fofisstilinski @dyapraxicwhore @bertieandberries @ladystrawberry @bit-of-a-timelord @aaronhotchiee @calimoi @fangirlfree @bbaengtan @karolsboo @aliceforbes @insertpithyusername @sickknik @photmath @whorekneebrain @mostannoyingbillioner @anacravalho @iconicshit @spicybibimbap @chaoticsteverogers @txtsfromyourex @sadthotsonlylove @assoftheamericana @ikatieebabyy @nerdymugsharkempath @crossfitjesusinblackskinnyjean @maroonsunrise83

[namjoonchronicles]

impression | yg

↳ genre fluff, domestic, established relationship

↳ words 5.5k

↳ summary many forgot that when you marry someone, you marry their family too, at least that’s how Asian family is like

↳ warning that side of adulthood, lockdown because of pandemic, self-worth, over-sensitivity, pisces dude, married life conflicts

↳ song ariana grande ‘pov’ 

Just this morning you woke him up with ‘Daechwita’ blasting on his ear drums, dancing and prancing around the home gym in your spandex bra and sweatpants, rapping to every word he wrote, with more swag than ten Yoongis combined. Forehead glistened with sweat, rosy cheeks and more life in you than he ever had. He leaned by the door sill just watching in utter disbelief and renewed admiration to just how much you loved his music. It never gets old. But how the tables have turned, two minutes before midnight.

You’ve locked yourself in the bathroom, him leaning his back on the wall, speaking through the closed door, calling out for you.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through. Fat chance, but at least he tried.

Must be something in his drink last night for him to hear his own song even when he is sleeping, Yoongi thought. But he didn't drink last night? Yoongi pulled the duvet down his head, contorting his entire face and the blaring boom bass music, rippling through the miniature figure standees of famous baseball players he had lined up on the TV cabinet. The music was so loud, the pictures hung on the walls began rattling at each beat drop. Where is this music coming from??

Two seconds in, and the empty spot next to him spoke volumes. All answers were as clear as day.

Yoongi sat up on the bed, duvets pooled around his waist as he yawns loudly and his bed hair flopping on either side leans towards, some baby strands standing in all directions. He scratches his arms, neck and belly as he comes awake. Face puffy, eyes barely open, and cheeks as circle as they could be. He gathered the duvet to the side and pushed himself off to the edge of the bed while shoving his feet into his indoor slippers. He tried to fetch his phone from the bedside table and saw it vibrating on its own from the loud music.

"Better stop her before the neighbours come complaining…"

He waddles about the room lazily, dragging his feet, his arm reaching for the switch panel before he even arrives to have the curtain open and let the sun in. The automated curtain aligned and folded creases perfectly as it gathered itself to each designated side. The bed, the bed will be made up later after he advises his wife not to deafen the whole neighborhood with his albums and he could finally think.

The teal-colored walls that extended along the hallway of the house, decorated with wedding pictures, family pictures, his signed baseball jerseys, picture of his basketball days (the one he jumps for a slam dunk and especially proud of, you know the one), your graduation picture (with him professionally photoshopped in) and some lovely polaroids of your first unofficial date that he insists was official. More on that later. Yoongi walks pass this memory lane with a stern face, shooting glares ahead, marching in the direction of the music, which seems to be coming from the gym. What he saw was a petite figure, all hyped up, sweaty, holding up a water bottle to your lips like a microphone, mouthing his rap like it was your own. You saw him in the mirror reflection but instead of coiling away, shy, you spat his rap to his face with flaming confidence. Yoongi looks down with a shy smile, eyes turning small and polite, skin blushing pink with second hand embarrassment. His face is hot and your sweaty skin, hair plastered to your neck and forehead, in revealing spandex was not helping. Neither is your swag. He clamped his lips with his teeth while you pulled his arm so he would join you. He protested lazily but didn't resist as hard. He throws his head back, whining dejections but you couldn't care less.

"Are you making your own concert here? Plagiarising my songs?"

You heard him and grinned widely at the mirror. He folded his arms and watched you dance seductively and just as the rap got to the 'my tongue sends boys and girls to China' part, the music stops and he is no longer next to you but by the stereo and turning it off.

"Yoongi! I was working out!" "People are gonna come and complain…" "They know who you are…" "They know my name from you…"

Screaming underneath him, that's what he meant. You rolled your eyes at him. He passed you a face towel with a sheepish smile. Wiping your face with it, you watched Yoongi unplug your phone from the sockets. It reveals several missed calls from your mother in law, Yoongi's mom.

"Mom called…" "Really?"

You moved closer to him to see. Yoongi reads the message she sent you outloud and the colors drained down your face.

"What do I cook? What do I do? What does she usually have for lunch? OMG, I don’t know. Do we even have kimchis left? I hadn't restocked…" "She likes fried dumplings and soy garlic chicken stew… it'll be okay. She said she is coming around noon. It's just a little over 8 am… Go take a shower."

You scurried to the bathroom and did as told. Yoongi made the bed while he waited. He turns the cordless vacuum cleaner on but it beeped soullessly because it wasn't charged. He sighed. You always forget to charge them after using them. He opted for a broom and dustpan instead. Yoongi disappears into his home studio, to take the shampoo he had been using and after-shower lotion for you to use. He twisted the knob, knowing you wouldn't lock them when you shower. Knock on the glass door of the shower and told you to use them. You nodded, passing him a look over your shoulder but he was out as quickly as he entered. That cold, cold steely husband.

You stepped out of the shower wrapped in towels with your hair dripping wet, hurrying to the hairdryer to dry your hair. Yoongi walks in with nothing but a towel around his waist. He passes you a chaste kiss on the shoulder first, then your cheeks before he continues to unravel his briefs and showered as well. The water trickles down his face, neck and shoulders, cascading down his speckless back, over the bum of his ass and wetting his happy trails at the same time. He aggressively rubs water over his face, the tips of his hair appear darker as it gets wet. You dressed up in your oversized hoodie, a pair of jeans and red converse, hair tied up in a bun, grabbing your purse for a quick run to the store. If your mother in law is coming, the least you could do is cook an all korean cuisine, prep nicely on the table so she knows that her son was taken care of nicely. Giving her a lasting good impression was your core priority as of now. And Yoongi would have been more than happy to do the grocery for you but this time, just this once, you want to show him that you are dependable too.

If there is anything you learned from korean cuisine is that food is prepared meticulously like you would, a form of art. Everything is placed neatly on a plate, and wrapped tightly. Taste and looks must be perfect. Everything had a sequence. Tradition and culture shapes the good people of Korea to what it is today. And for Daegu native, Yoongi's deep accent and habits become one of the most significant traits that flags a Daegu representative. You are obsessed with getting it right. Although you mostly don't understand the heavy accents he tends to let slip out once in a while, you were expecting to guess the words as it comes. His accents are one of the things that you loved about him. Daegu dialects are strong, and oozing masculinity. They are often direct and unapologetic so it might be heard as harsh. You couldn't tell apart if he is cursing or if he is just plainly just talking about his day when his friends stop by. He caught you a few times, staring blankly at him when he blurted out dialects out of frustrations, and he laughed them off when you accuse him of lying to you about what the words actually mean.

With his mom stopping by, the dialects are going to be thick and you would probably stare blankly most of the time. Communications are limited and Yoongi had to come back and forth to translate some of them.

Korean cooking is not your forte. Let's put that out there, in the open for everyone to see and understand. You are not familiar with it, and although you love some of it, some just don't fit your taste buds. But Yoongi is a full blown Korean. You make adjustments here and there, but it's not like he is always around for you to cook them often. That's why your korean cooking skills deteriorated. Even simple things like choosing which mushrooms to cook with takes 10 minutes longer than it probably should. You went with your heart and took the one you saw first.

Yoongi came out from the baths to see an empty room. Your perfume wafts over his nostril and it tattles about your whereabouts. Just as he was about to investigate, his phone shrieked a calling tone. It was Jungkook. Asking for a chord. He sounds desperate and bored to death. Being a good friend, Yoongi speds to his home studio after clumsily putting on some white tee on top of a grey shorts, halfway through and sending him several chords the little guy could work with, then pulling the rest of the shirt down as it loads. He swore he didn't take long but he found you already changing your clothes and starting to chop things on the chopping board, sloppily. He knows that it was not you to do things sloppily so he offered to help sharpen the knives.

"Soy garlic stew?"

You chewed your lips at him as he asked and nodded. Anxiety was written all over you. Your hands were already so shaky, and that's why you couldn't hold the knife properly, aside from it being blunt. You turned to the sink and began chopping the scallions with another knife Yoongi handed you.

“There are some potatoes I bought in the paper bags, I brought the mushroom I am familiar with, I am not sure if it's the one used in the stew. What time is it already? Is this enough time to even cook the stew? The chicken hasn’t thaw has it? I am not going to have enough time… She is going to know that the dumpling is store bought and I am putting my pride on the line…” you spoke nonstop, didn’t even hear Yoongi if he was saying anything, which you assumed he was quiet, so you became annoyed and, “Why aren’t answering any questions I have??”

Yoongi stood there, with a blank expression, “You wouldn’t even let me talk…”

You answered your own questions, and he was here listening to everything, opening his mouth and closing it before any word could come out because you bulldozed him with words, as he dug out the potatoes you were talking about, as well as the mushrooms.

“I’m sorry, I watched the youtube video on making the stew on the way to the mart and it seems pretty complicated, but doable… I think that the ginger and garlic goes in first,” you paused and sighed, “It’s been awhile since I cooked a proper meal for myself. I don’t know if I had it in me to even do this anymore…”

That’s right. While Yoongi was always away from the last two years, his work trips extended from 3 months to a whole year, and while studying for your master’s degree, you opt for simpler food, just enough for you to get by the day with a filled stomach. Most of your time is dedicated to your studies and laundry. Stopping by Daegu was hardly done, and if anything, you would just send some gifts her way. It is pretty awkward between you and his mother; language barriers, interests, and principles. You didn’t notice when Yoongi was standing behind you, his hand was on top of yours, soothing over your knuckles and he hijacked the scissors from your hands gently.

And he whispered softly atop of your head, “I got this.”

Just like that, he took over kitchen duties and let you handle the simpler stuff like, putting the pot on the stove, fill water in it, skin the potatoes, chopped them into large cubes, unstub the capsicum, peel the skin off of the chicken, peel the garlic and ginger. Yoongi’s instructions are clear and easy to follow. After all the things are chopped and prepared, he hands the ladle to you.

Your eyes widen. And you shook your head. Stepping back. Yoongi clicked his tongue and chuckled through his nose. Coax you. But no, you stepped farther back. He then took your wrist gently and placed the ladle handle in your palm.

“Trust me?” “I trust you, it’s me I don’t trust.”

“I’ll help you every step. Let’s go. Have confidence!” “You’re the multi billionaire, I’m just the struggling degree student with a part time job.”

“You’re Min Yoongi’s wife.” “I find that hard to believe sometimes…”

With another scolding tut of his tongue, you conceded. With a heavy heart.

The chopped chicken pieces are placed in a boiling water pot, and when its reddish flesh turns white and is cooked, it is drained and washed underneath cold running water to remove impurities. You watched quietly as Yoongi cleans them with his capable hands. His veins protrude, extending well over his forearms. The tip of his fingers were pinker than the rest of his hands, and he smoothes over those nooks and crannies the chicken pieces have. As ridiculous as it may sound, you were quite envious of the fact that those chickens have his full attention now. Next, the carrots.

The carotene source is peeled and chopped in large size. Yoongi helped guide your hands over the handle of the knife, because he is pretty particular on how big he wanted those carrots to be.

“Isn’t that too large?” You asked him in a small voice. They are half the size of your thumb. “No, it’s just nice…” he replied in a low voice, his lips just behind your ear, “It has to be in the same size as the potatoes, so it will cook at the same time.”

Your bottom grazed over his front and he learns to just keep you sandwiched in between the counter and him, so it won’t turn to something else. He is just as anxious as you are with his mom coming. Therefore, the percentage of him turning frisky is zero to none. The onions come next. They are chopped in half and then into fours. Yoongi paused and braced himself for tear gas attacks only there was none. He asks where you bought those onions, and you replied, it was grown in your colleagues garden. They were given for free. And he comments,

“They should sell these, we will be their first loyal customer! It doesn’t sting!”

You laughed as you prepared the fruits you bought. It was rock melon and some papayas. You avoided buying tangerine because you know she will bring some from her hometown, knowing how much Yoongi loves them. Daegu’s tangerines are very sweet and plump. There is nothing like it. Yoongi sliced green onions for the stew and extra hot chili peppers because his mom likes them spicy. Then he prepares the mixture for the broth.

“Now watch,” he instructed you, “Soy sauce, rice wine, red chilli pepper powders, minced garlic, two cups of sugar, red pepper paste, sesame oil, pepper. Mix well.”

Yoongi prepared a pot and placed the cleaned chicken pieces in them, added potatoes, carrots and water with the mixture he made just prior. Then, boil. After the chicken is cooked thoroughly, he adds onions. Then the scallions. Then salt to taste. You prepared the oven and Yoongi carried the pot to it to keep it warm until his mom arrived. Dumplings were pan fried. That one was simple. His mom doesn’t like her beverages too sweet, a simple plain water is enough.

When all the food is done, you turn to him at the same time he did. Sweats rolling down his sideburns and his thin white shirt clinging on his skin like he ran a mile. You approached him with a huge smile, swept his hair back to reveal his forehead and dabbed your inner wrist to wipe away his sweat all around his face. He sniggers through his nose. Adam’s apple bobbing up and down, you can’t help but plant a kiss on them. Nuzzling your face on his neck, you draped your arm around his shoulder and mumbled, “Thank you…”

He leans his cheek on your head and kisses one side of your brain, before exclaiming that you both need another shower after cleaning up the kitchen and turning on the air humidifier to chase away the smell of cooking.

“How was the journey?” you chirped. “The weather is scorching hot, the sun is melting me away before I can meet my son,” Yoongi’s mom complained in a thick Daegu accent, and when she stepped in, she gave you a glance and straight away went looking for her precious son. As expected.

“He was just out of the shower, he will come soon, mother,” you said the last word awkwardly, it doesn’t really roll off your tongue as comfortably as it should. She replied to you with a dejected “Hmm.”

You blinked and cast your eyes downwards, then up again to change the topic, “...Let me take you some cold drink… it must have been a torture, to walk around in such hot weather,” you sped to the kitchen and grabbed her a cold water in a tall glass.

“Hello mom…” Yoongi revealed himself from the hallway, gave his mother a hug that you didn’t receive when she walked in. “It wasn’t torture when I’ve come to see my son!” She suddenly changed her words, now she is all bright and cheerful, and you disappeared from her sight completely unless Yoongi looks over to you and includes you in the conversation. That too, wasn’t permanent. Yoongi learned that his older brother’s wife is carrying a baby and Holly had been snuggling to her tummy at every chance she gets. The sight would have been adorable and they were able to take a picture of it so Yoongi’s mom excitedly showed them to Yoongi. They both are sitting on the sofa while you were in the kitchen scooping up cooked rice into bowls of three.

“This sofa is new isn’t it? I didn’t see it the last time I was here,” his mom asked. “Yes, yes… do you like it?” Yoongi said and said you chose them. Then her enthusiasm dissipates. “I like it better without one. Now it’s too westernized,” his mom’s lips turned lopsided, continuing, “Did you know that hanging your legs down will disrupt the blood flow up to your brain? We better sit down on the floor when we eat, too…”

Yoongi prepared a Japanese folded table and pushed aside the coffee table that was there. Everything you’ve prepared on the dining table was moved to the Japanese one. When everything is set, you and Yoongi wait for his mom to start eating before you both do. It’s tradition. Even between man and wife, the older one begins eating first. Yoongi sips the stew and then you begin scooping the stew into your bowl. You were the only one eating mostly with a spoon instead of chopstick since you aren’t too accustomed to it. Yoongi’s mother said in a joking tone that you should start using the training chopstick used by toddlers.

Why are you extra sensitive today? She was just joking, but smiling is so hard right now. Your cheeks feel heavy and your shoulders stiffened. Yoongi carried the rest of the conversation effortlessly. The deep Daegu accent is already shifting your attention towards the fried dumpling instead. It was just a little over 45 minutes since she arrived, why does it feel like days?

“Dumplings, mother?” You chirped, attempted to use the chopstick and successfully landed them in her bowl.

Then she puts them back where they were, and said, “I don’t eat store-bought dumpling, darling,” before resuming to tell Yoongi the story about her neighbour getting into a real estate feud. You hold your breath in your throat and try not to think about it too much. Although you’ve finished your bowl of rice, Yoongi still hasn’t. He was busy nodding away to what his mother was saying. She barely touched the stew. When she turned to her food, you tapped Yoongi’s knee underneath the table and he looked at you wide eyed, darting at the stew. And Yoongi’s lips turned to the shape of an “O”.

“How do you like the stew, mom?” He asked. “It’s okay…” “My wife made it…” Yoongi said with a smug smile.

You smiled, shyly.

“It tastes exactly how Yoongi would cook it. I thought you cooked it, I know how horrible her korean cooking is, Yoongi… You don’t have to lie to me,” his mom passed.

After bidding her farewell at the door, Yoongi accompanied her to his brother’s incoming vehicle that fetches her. His brother made a promise to stop by when the baby arrives and when the Covid cases reduce a bit. You watched from the window from your bedroom and when the car drove off with Yoongi waving goodbye to his mom, your heart thudded differently.

Your eyes stung, and tears impending to fall as it collected around the brims. As you heard the front door beeping open to Yoongi returning, your feet dashed to the bathroom door, pushing it open as your tears rolled down your face like a dam broke.

Sensitive? Too soft? Was I too emotional? Am I not trying hard enough to be enough?

Yoongi walks in, to an eerily silent house. Ridding his shirt by pulling it over his head as he walks down the dimly lit hallway. His heavy footsteps heard across the floorings and you covered your mouth with your hand to not make any sound. He noticed that the bathroom light was on unlike the rest of the room.

“You’re showering alone? Traitor…” he pouted and wriggled the door knob and noticed it was locked from the inside. “I have a stomach ache,” you hoped you sound convincing. Your voice didn’t sound as shaky and you hope he didn’t catch on. “Okay…” he said, after a long pause. You turned the shower on to reduce the sound of you crying, and went back to sitting on the floor by the door, dug the heels of your palm into your eyes socket, and hugged your knees, sniffling.

“Hey…” his voice muffled through the door. “Hmm?” you replied, through a broken smile.

“Are you okay?”

Another dam broke.

Shit, I’ve started crying again. Why can’t I stop crying?! He is going to find out now… Fuck.

“Talk to me. Please… Say something. Anything,” he puts his lips inches away from the door, covering his hand over his mouth to direct the sound towards you, hoping it would get through.

“Was it mom? She says something you don’t like? You know how mom is, right? She doesn’t mean any of it…” now it’s Yoongi’s turned to bulldoze you with questions he himself answered.

Unable to take it anymore, you had to speak out, even if it means behind closed doors.

“I know she doesn’t like me as a daughter-in-law…” you spoke in broken voices. “Nonsense…” Yoongi passed, nonchalantly.

“No, will you please just listen to me?!” you raised your voice a bit, “I am not like your brother’s wife who cooks great Korean food, who sends her nice homemade desserts to her likings, and now is bearing a grandchild for her. I can’t cook, and had to rely on you a lot. She came over and she didn’t give me a hug like she did you, and the whole she doesn’t even speak to me unless I speak to her first, and even then, she shuts me down so I couldn’t say another word. I can’t even use a damn chopstick or make homemade dumplings she’ll eat!”

It’s Yoongi’s turn to lean his back on the door and hug his knees, then hang his head low.

“Suddenly the sofa is too westernized. And the glass doors letting in too much sunlight when I renovated it the way she wanted. It seems like everything I do is wrong and I just have no place in the Min’s household no matter how hard I try,” you sniffed, and, “To make matters worse she brought up the girlfriends you had in high school and how they cook her favourite food! Girlfriends! Plural! Here I thought you only had one… Jokes on me, I guess… It’s fine, honestly.”

There's nothing more terrifying than the word ‘fine’ you threw when you’re sad and Yoongi knows it. It signifies so many things. It indicates that you’re done, and you’re ready to let go of it, by shoving it under the rug like many other things your mother in law did to you ever since you met her. Yoongi shot his head up when the door opened and his eyes followed you in silence, a little solemn. You dried your hair, sitting on the makeup chair table, running the cool air Dyson hairdryer over the lengths of your hair. Yoongi crawled on all four and knelt behind you to hug your waist, nuzzling his face on your lower back. Then the tears returned, and kept falling.

Your gaze is stuck on the reflection of you in the mirror. What have we become?

It was one of those moments where no words seemed to suffice. Regrets and guilt becomes almost the same thing. Pointing the blame is the last thing on your mind. Choosing sides is difficult when so much is at stake. You may have unclasped his arm from around your waist, heard his wordless gesture and refused to see his face, but so much of him is in you. The fact you held on for so long was because of that man you love and married. Is this going to happen everytime your mother in law stops by?

Even then, you didn't want him to go against his own mother, nor do you want him to side with her… It was such a confusing situation.

Yoongi needs to return to the studio. He packs a few toiletries and clothes for him to wear while he is there. You helped him pack leftover food so you are not burdened to finish everything alone. The conversation shifts to what matters now. You carry your duty as a wife, his partner. You make sure that he is able to provide for this family and even though your emotions are once again neglected for the time being, you were glad that it actually occupied your mind and heart.

At the door, his manager carried his things and instead of leaving along with his manager, Yoongi told him to go first. You already know what comes next. But you aren't sure if you had it in you. One look in your eyes and Yoongi knows that you will rather die than have that conversation all over again. He ran his finger through your hair, lowered his lips to your forehead and stayed like that for awhile, and you said,

“Take care of yourself,” you spoke to his chest, breathing in his musky cologne for the days ahead without him. He stepped back, thumbed your cheek and pinched your chin, tilting your head back. He glanced at your lips while biting his own then backed away, to leave. As the view of his back got smaller and smaller, he exclaimed, “I’m going.” Not once did he turn behind to have one last look. And it was something Yoongi would do. Doesn’t matter if it's at the airport, or at the backstage, he will never look at you after he leaves you, even when he knows you’re right there standing, and looking at him. He says that, if he saw you standing there waiting for him, he will not be able to fight the urge to run to you. So he never looks back. The one thing that he always does before a work trip, is to kiss your forehead. Dr. Laurel Steinberg says, a forehead kiss indicates strong emotional intimacy.

But Yoongi says that a forehead kiss to him signifies a bond that goes beyond lust and love, it was your soul. It is to say, “I might be too far away to hold you, but my soul is yours.” It sends butterflies and confettis your way when he does it. It always feels warm and you always feel protected with a stamp of Yoongi’s lips on your forehead. It feels like a talisman. That no matter what, Yoongi is here.

Recovery. The emotional turmoil, the rollercoaster. You fill your time organizing the photos Yoongi took. With your final exams finished a week ago, you’re given a month off before you begin your final year. Yoongi now lives in his studio office because the album recording session begins and he is in every process. He is in charge of doubling and finalizing the tracks, directing and whatnot. Yoongi sends you a 1 minute 23 seconds video. Scowling at it, your face softened at the sight of him, recording himself in the studio. Dark circles doubled in size and his cheeks sunken. Poor thing hadn't been eating well did he?

“Hey, sweetie…” his familiar guttural voice resonated with your heart strings, “Sorry I haven’t been able to properly give you a call. It’s too late when I’m free, and I’m asleep when you’re awake. So I figured I’ll just send you a damn video, to hell with it.” You chuckled softly as your visions turned blurry.

“I think I will be addressing the recent issue we tucked away for later day. It’s later. You have never been good at fighting for yourself. It was something I don’t really understand because I’ve seen you fight my fight for me,” he glanced to the side and smiled fondly. You were unclear what situation he was talking about but you kept listening.

“You told me that I shouldn’t side with you because that would mean I am against my mother. Here’s what I truly think…” he breathed in and sighed loudly, “I think I should side with you. I spoke to my mom a few days ago, asked her how she is, and I told her several things I don’t like, like bringing up my past ex girlfriend, or how you can’t use the chopstick yet, or how your korean cooking isn’t great yet… how upset it made you and me. She told me that she was just jealous. I left home when I was 16. Come back when I am 20, married at 25. I will always be her son, I let her know that. But I am now someone’s husband, and I happen to cherish this someone, her heart and her wellbeing is my responsibility. I am not stolen from my mom, I consciously chose this person to be with me, to be her husband and built a home with her. And if she can’t respect that, then she cannot return to our house…”

You had to set the phone down and wipe your tears with the back of your hand.

“I’m done being a referee,” Yoongi continued after a long pause, “You’re gonna cry again, and I won’t be able to pass you tissue or give you a hug, I hope you understand what I’m trying to say. I am proud of you and all the little things you do. Daegu dialect is difficult to understand ha? That’s alright. You’re getting your degree, and you help pack my things even though you’re sad as hell the day I left. I couldn’t… I couldn’t ask for a better wife, and I hardly think I deserve you. Until we meet again, soon. Your husband, Min Yoongi.”

The video cuts to him winking.

Another text from him,

[Yoongi, 1.03AM] Impression is never permanent. I hope you give mother another try…

Wife is typing...

[Wife, 1.04AM] Erm. [Wife, 1.04AM] Sends a pic.

[Wife, 1.05AM] How’s this for a lasting impression?

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copyright © 2020 namjoonchronicles do not repost, and thank you for reading

[nyctophilin]

Fake Affection | III

Chapter I, Chapter II, Chapter III, Chapter IV, Epilogue

Description: Han Jisung has been rejected by the girl he likes one to many times. He decides that he has had enough and is set on making her want him back. What could possibly make her want him more than seeing him with her rival after she boldly assumed he can’t find anyone better. That way Jisung and Y/N are stuck in a fake relationship until Jisung’s crush falls for him. Or he falls for someone else.

All rights reserved © nyctophilin 2020. Re-posting, copying and translating any of my works is prohibited.

Pairing: Han x fem!Reader, Hyunjin x fem!Reader

Word count: 5.1k

Genre: College!AU, Fake dating!AU, Angst, Fluff, eventual Smut

Warnings: swearing, mild groping, mild violence

Pearl note -> This got long. Yeah, things got interesting in this part. :)) Also, I realized I forgot to add something so I had to come back last minute and edit it. Yeah, sorry for the delay. :/ I hope y’all enjoy it! Feedback is very much appreciated.

      The sun was shining brightly despite it being almost 6 PM. The temperature outside reached unusually high numbers for that time of the year, and Y/N decided to take advantage of that. Dressed in a forest green spring dress that reached her mid-thighs and offered a modest view of her cleavage, she was waiting for Jisung in front of her apartment complex. The dress she was wearing had short sleeves, but she decided not to take any jackets with her thanks to the weather forecast that predicted the temperatures to be high until later in the night.

      She was clutching the strap of her purse tightly and impatiently checking the time on her phone every few minutes. It has been such a long time since she went on a date. Just because she was going there to make Mina jealous didn’t mean she couldn’t have fun. What better way to convince the other girl that she missed on a lot of fun than have fun?

      Coming from the left side, she heard the sound of an engine approaching. Soon, a black Range Rover came to a gradual stop right in front of her, the front wheel almost climbing the sidewalk. From inside the car, Jisung gestured her to get in. She opened the door and climbed in, placing her purse over her knees before fastening her seatbelt.

      Without much of a word, Jisung turned the steering wheel and started driving to a destination unknown to Y/N.

      “I didn’t know you had a car.” She spoke, trying to get rid of the awkward atmosphere.

      Jisung threw her a look before concentrating on the road again.

      “It’s Chan’s. He let me borrow it for today.” A long sigh left his mouth. “After a long talk where he told me that if I hurt his baby, I’m dead.”

      Y/N let out a chuckle, and Jisung smiled as well, as the memory of the silly conversation he had with the older man flooded his mind. Another minute passed, and the silence in the car was being filled by the pop music coming from the radio.

      “You look pretty!” Jisung complimented, stealing another glance at her.

      A bright smile invaded her facial features at his words. 

      “Thank you! I didn’t know where we were going, but I figured a dress would be appropriate for many activities.” She chirped, the tiniest bit of excitement rolling off her tongue.

      “What if we are going hiking?” Jisung said, and a smirk appeared on his face when he noticed her rolling her eyes from the corner of his eye.

      “Then you can turn the car. I’m not coming!” Y/N crossed her hands under her chest and her mouth formed into a small pout.

      “I’m joking. We are going to an outdoor cinema.”

      She gave him a side look and raised an eyebrow.

      “No offence, but how do you know when outdoor cinemas are happening? They don’t seem…” She eyes him up and down on the driver’s seat. “...your style.”

      Jisung resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her comment. After a moment of silence, he sighed silently accepting her words.

      “Mina told me about it three weeks ago. She said it was a rom-com she really wanted to see. We planned to go together.” He explained taking a right turn.

      “Then how do you know if she’s going to come if you planned to go together. I don’t know if you realised, but you are supposed to be dating me, and she’s dating no one. Girls don’t usually go to this kind of thing without a boyfriend or a potential one.”

      “There’s this guy from Theatre and Film that she used to hook up with when I wasn’t around. I know from someone that they are coming together.” 

      Y/N let a pitiful smile involuntarily invade her features. It was kind of pathetic how he knew about her whereabouts and still didn’t say anything. She understood that they weren’t together, but they were heavily flirting and behaving like a couple, hence why she and a lot of other people thought they were actually in a relationship.

      She let her teeth sink in the flesh of her bottom lip holding back from telling him a piece of her mind. He was old enough. He knew what he was doing. Or at least she hoped he did.

      The rest of the way to the outdoor cinema was spent in silence. The only audible sounds being the radio and Jisung’s soft humming from time to time. When they reached, their destination Y/N got out of the car and let Jisung find a parking spot somewhere further away from the location of the cinema due to the parking there overflowing with vehicles.

      Checking her phone, she noticed the time indicating 7:17 PM, and only then she realised how much time they spent in the car. Walking lazily on the pathway to where space was designated for blankets and chairs she saw a sea of people. Maybe not really a sea but there were enough people to fill two of the auditorium in their university.

      For a second she thought she'd lay out the blanket, but then she remembered the only thing she had on her was her purse. On top of that, they needed to ‘accidentally’ bump into Mina and her date and hope they end up sitting next to each other.

      Just as she was thinking about that a squeal deafened her and a pair of delicate arms wrapped around her. When the girl let go of her, and she met Mina’s face, she grimaced, but she regained her composure fast. She smiled at her and her date, a guy she had seen occasionally in some of her classes.

      “What a coincidence you are here!” Mina’s fake excitement was pissing her off. Coincidence her ass. Y/N was sure she knew they were going to be there.

      “Yeah, what a small world.” She gave the two a visibly fake smile and prayed for Jisung to hurry.

      “Are you alone?” The girl asked, moving her head in different directions as if she was looking for the person she came with.

      “No. I actually came with Jisung.” As if on cue Jisung appeared from behind the two, a blanket in hand.

      “Are you looking for me, princess?” A jolt of surprise went through her at the new nickname he used, but she didn’t let it show.

      Observing the angry expression on Mina’s face at his words, she figured that was how he used to call her before they broke up whatever they had going on. She surpassed a smirk from painting her lips.

      “Mhhm.” She extended her hand, which he gladly held and went in for a short kiss. “Look who I found. Isn’t it lovely seeing your friends here?” She sarcastically said, smiling up at him.

      “You guys should come sit with us!” Mina’s date said, and a victorious smile spread across her face.

      “We’ll love to if that is okay with Mina, of course. We wouldn’t wanna disrupt you!” Y/N faked concern and gave Mina doe eyes.

      Mina’s jaw slightly clenched before immediately relaxing and letting out a forced giggle.

      “Of course you can. Why wouldn’t I be okay with that?”

      After that, the four of them went and found a place at the back of the crowd where they could sit. It wasn’t exactly the back of the crowd since there were some more people behind them, but they were reasonably behind. 

      Jisung spread the blanket on the fluffy grass, and Mina’s date, whose name she found out was Jay, did the same as Jisung. Their blankets were almost touching, the distance between them millimetric. 

      There were still 20 minutes before the movie was supposed to start. They sat down on the blankets, and Y/N stretched her legs, finally relaxing for not having to stand on the platform shoes she was wearing.

      “So, are you guys dating or…” Jay asked, fixing his body position so he could see them better.

      Y/N rolled her eyes at his question. The guy wasn’t the best at reading the room.

      “Of course we are. Why would we be here together if we weren’t?” Annoyance was dripping off her tongue. She only wanted to relax for a bit before having to spend two hours watching some boring rom-com.

      “Oh…” His voice sounded almost disappointed as his gaze lingered a second too long on her exposed legs. “Mina and I are not a couple. And since she and Jisung have had a thing before, I thought...” He bit his bottom lip while looking at her thighs that were pretty much bare thanks to her dress riding up when she sat down. “Never mind!” 

      Y/N shifted uncomfortably and placed her hands on her thighs in an attempt to cover them even a little. Mina wasn’t aware of her date’s actions as her eyes were concentrated on Jisung and on the way he looked under the golden rays of the sun that was preparing to set.

      Jisung, however, was burning holes with his eyes into the other man’s head. Upon seeing him biting his lip while looking at Y/N in a less than appropriate way, he felt an unexplainable feeling of rage penetrate his body. What he wanted to do at that moment was to get up and punch that pig into next week for daring to look at her like that. But he kept his composure and decided not to make a big deal out of it. 

      There was literally no reason for him to get that angry. Besides the apparent reason that it made her uncomfortable and he shouldn’t allow something like that, especially when he is playing her boyfriend. But the sudden feeling to rip his head off filled him with turmoil.

      Jisung decided to ignore it for now, and he took his jacket off and placed it over her legs. Her head shot in his direction, confusion and at the same time relief present in her eyes.

      “What is that?” She asked, trying to act unaffected by Jay’s actions.

      “I just thought you might sit more comfortably with this over your legs. It stops unwanted attention.” He subtly glared at Jay, but he didn’t seem to pay him any mind as his eyes were now fixed on Mina’s chest.

      “Thank you!” She said, bringing the jacket further up to cover her thighs better.

      Jisung inched just a little bit closer to her and cupped her face. Placing his lips on hers, he forcefully pushed his tongue in her mouth, taking her by surprise. He made sure their heads were positioned in such a way that the two on the blanket next to them will be able to see the exchange of their mouths. 

      Mina was watching Jisung drag his tongue inside Y/N’s mouth, his eyes closed in satisfaction. The exchange wasn’t rushed, and the way his thumb would caress her cheek so gently had her bursting with jealousy. Jisung had never kissed her like that. Their kisses were always rushed and sloppy, driven by sexual needs.

      When she first heard about their little relationship, she laughed. She thought it was some kind of stupid joke. But then she saw how they behaved. The kisses, the hugs, the hand holding, how he would always have a hand around her shoulders. In the three days, they dated he showed Y/N more love than he showed her in a year and a half.

      Her initial plan was to tease him a little bit, then finally accept to be his girlfriend. She didn’t think he'd go and find himself a girlfriend. And especially not her. From all the people he could choose it had to be her. Looking at them now, Mina regretted her decision.

      Jisung broke the kiss and looked into her fluttering eyes before placing a peck on her nose. Y/N was sitting there dizzy from everything that happened. His sudden boldness left her speechless and burning hot from the embarrassment of being seen doing something like that.

      She wanted to question him. Ask him why he suddenly did something like that. However, a loud sound erupted from the speakers surrounding them, signaling the start of the movie. So she focused her vision on the big cloth in front of her and decided to ignore it.

      She shivered discreetly as a wave of cold hit her body. The movie was only half done, and with the midnight approaching slowly, a chilly air adorned their surroundings. The weather forecast predicted high temperatures, but at that moment she was far away from her city, and so the weather was different.

      Y/N rubbed one of her arms with her hand, regretting not taking a jacket with her just in case something like that was to happen. From the corner of his eye, Jisung noticed her actions, and he leaned in close to her to whisper in her ear.

      “Hey, are you ok?” His hot breath on her ear made the hair at the back of her neck stand up.

      “Yeah, I’m just a little bit cold. I’ll be fine!” She whispered back giving him reassuring eyes.

      Jisung thought for a second of what he could do. He didn’t have another jacket, and he didn’t want her to uncover her legs. At least not when Jay was around. An idea finally struck him, and he softly called her name, catching her attention again.

      When she turned to look at him, he tapped the space between his spread legs. Y/N raised an eyebrow at his gesture.

      “What does that mean?” She sounded a little bit annoyed.

      “Come sit here. I’ll cuddle you so you won’t be cold anymore.” Y/N threw him a weirded out look. “We are ‘dating’. No one will find it weird. Or you could just stay there and freeze to death.” The man explained his voice a little bit louder than before.

      She pondered his offer for a bit before getting up and making her way between his legs. She let herself fall backwards until her back hit his chest softly. Jisung put his arms around her, and warmth started enveloping her almost instantly. Y/N let out a purr at the newfound comfort, and her eyes shot open at the realisation of what she just did.

      “Hey, don’t get too comfortable, you hear me? I’m doing this just because Mina might be watching.” She warned, her voice stern hoping he missed her last action.

      Jisung rolled his eyes but decided not to bring up the sound she just let out. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the newfound proximity. Only so they can make Mina jealous. Right?

      They sat like that, none of them daring to move. For some reason, Jisung found the position really comfortable. A few days prior at the start of their relationship he found skinship really awkward but now it wasn’t like that anymore. It felt almost natural. Like they have been doing it for a long time.

      Some more time passed, but Jisung wasn’t sure how much. The movie was approaching its climax, and the man felt bored out of his mind. Was it really worth going through that only to get his dick wet? But then he remembered who he was doing it for. He was doing it so he and Mina, the girl who he has been in love with for the longest time, could finally be together. And when it happens, he will be able to slide his hand through her silky hair, and feel her smooth skin and kiss her soft lips without having to call it a friendly gesture.

      His trail of thoughts was interrupted by a quiet mumbling coming from Y/N. Her voice was so small that Jisung couldn’t hear her.

      “What?” He leaned his head down in order to hear her when she talks.

      For a minute, there was silence. Thinking that she didn’t hear him, Jisung wanted to repeat the question when a puff of air left her mouth. Right after, she turned slightly to the side, pushing her head more against his chest, and that is when he realised that she fell asleep.

      An involuntary smile tugged at his lips, and his heart started beating faster. He couldn’t explain why he was so happy about it. It was going to be a pain in the ass. Having to wake her up and wait for her to recover from her dazed form. They were going to be the last ones to leave after the movie was over.

      A whistle-like noise left Y/N’s nose when she expired the cold air of the night, and his smile turned into a grin. Jisung moved a few strands of hair from her face before wrapping his hands better around her to keep her warm. He placed a kiss on top of her head and rested his chin on her head, swaying slightly while continuing to watch the movie.

      If you were to ask Mina what has happened so far in the movie, she couldn’t give you an answer. As much as she wanted to see the film, the girl’s eyes seemed to be more interested in whatever was happening on the blanket on her left. 

      She watched as they were cuddling and whispering to each other things she couldn’t hear. Then Y/N fell asleep, and Jisung seemed to be even more loving, hugging her even tighter and kissing her. She was wondering if he has ever done that to her on the many nights they shared a bed.

      Mina never thought she would be that affected by the fact that Jisung has found himself a girlfriend. After all, he was just one of the many boys she was hooking up with. She never thought she would have feelings for him, but here she was, being jealous of the last person she ever thought she would.

      She had to somehow get the boy back. She wanted to see it as a challenge, but she couldn’t. It had barely been two weeks since they ‘broke up’ and scarcely four days since he started dating that perfect little missy. Love doesn’t fade away that fast. She’ll have him back in no time.

      Y/N felt someone shaking her arm gently, and she mumbled some incoherent words, pushing the hand away. She was sleeping so well, she didn’t want to wake up. A hand pushed a hair strand that was ticking her nose out of the way before grabbing her shoulder and shaking it again. She groaned in annoyance.

      “Wake up, Y/N! You have to go home. Unless you want me to take you to my place.” Someone whispered close to her face, and her eyes fluttered open, trying to make up her surroundings.

      The first thing she saw when she finally managed to blink the sleep away was Jisung’s smirking face. God, he was so annoying. Ignoring him and looking around, she noticed she was in his parked car in front of her apartment complex. She vaguely remembered falling asleep, but she doesn’t remember waking up to get to the car.

      “How did I get here? Did you wake me up?” Y/N asked, straightening her body and inhaling the cold air of the night.

      Jisung held her hand and helped her out of the car before slamming the door closed. He let her lean against the front door and opened the back door to fish her purse from the back seat.

      “I didn’t. You were way too cute when you shut up. Like a little obedient kitty. I had to enjoy the moment a little bit longer.” He teased, putting a hand around her waist and making their way to the entrance in the complex.

      Y/N scoffed at his childish remark but decided to ignore it. She didn’t have the necessary energy to argue with him.

      “So you carried me to the car? What about the blanket and the other stuff you had there? Did you go back for them?”

      “No, I had Jay get them for me, so I don’t wake you up.” 

      Stopping in front of the elevator, Jisung pushed the button, and they waited a few seconds for the doors to open. Stepping inside, Y/N pushed the button for the third floor before leaning back against Jisung.

      “Talking about Jay. Thank you for today!” The man threw her a questioning look, acting as nonchalant as he could.

      “What do you mean?”

      “Don’t act dumb! I know you didn’t give me your jacket just because you are nice like that. You saw how he looked at me.” She wanted to sound more aggressive, but her voice came out soft and calm since she was still sleepy.

      Jisung found that adorable but surpassed a smile. Adopting a disinterested expression, he spoke.

      “He did? I didn’t notice. I just thought that, as your boyfriend, I shouldn’t let everyone see your underwear.” Y/N punched him in the stomach lightly, and Jisung dramatically bent down, letting out a fake grunt.

      “You are such an asshole!”

      A loud ding echoed in the restricted space, and the doors opened, revealing the dirty wall of the third floor. They stepped out of the elevator and slowly walked down the hallway to where Y/N’s apartment door was. Taking her purse from Jisung’s hand and finding her keys, she unlocked the door and opened it.

      She leaned against the door frame and looked up at Jisung, giving him a bright smile.

      “I'd like to say that I had fun, but I fell asleep halfway through the date.” She giggled, trying to mask her embarrassment. “But it was nice getting out of the house. Thank you for today!”

      The man put his hands in his jean’s pockets and scoffed.

      “You are lucky Mina got upset by you sleeping on me. Otherwise, I would have gotten angry. My shoulders are so stiff from having to support your weight. I might not recover for a few days.” A fake pained groan left his throat, and Y/N rolled her eyes.

      Lifting herself on her tiptoes, she placed one hand on his shoulder and brought his head lower. She connected her lips with his in a short kiss. Breaking the kiss, she stepped inside her apartment and kept the door open enough for her head to be visible.

      “See you on Monday!” With that, she closed the door all the way and made her way into her bedroom.

      She wasn’t sure what was the time, but it must have been well past 11 PM. Taking off the dress, she discarded it on the floor before grabbing the oversized t-shirt from the back of the desk chair. She put it on and threw herself on the bed, letting the sheets envelop her body before falling asleep.

      Y/N’s eyes shot open, and her mouth fell open as the realisation of what she did only moments prior sank in. Putting the back of her hand over her forehead and exhaling deeply, her eyes closed and her brows furrowed. Why did she kiss him? She’ll never interact with anyone while she’s still drunk on sleep.

      Meanwhile, Jisung that just exited the complex couldn’t contain his smile. He couldn’t understand why that was happening. They kissed before to make Mina jealous. But maybe that was precisely the reasons such an insignificant gesture brought him so much joy. Mina was nowhere near. A spark erupted in his stomach at the thought that the girl might have a crush on him.

      “Do it again! With more love this time. Come on. You want me! You desire me!” Y/N ordered to Jeongin.

      The man let out a frustrated groan, using the script to cover his eyes from the brightness of the sun.

      Both of them, Hyunjin and Jisung, were outside, in front of the university. They had a free period and decided to practice the script for the short movie they were playing in. Hyunjin, although not part of the film itself, was always with them thanks to Mrs. Bae’s affinity towards him. 

      Jisung, however, was new in the picture. Ever since they went on that date a week and a half ago, he seemed to be spending more time with her. She felt mildly suffocated by that but decided not to question it. As long as he wasn’t distracting her from her usual activities, she didn’t mind him tagging along.

      “You don’t make desiring you really easy. We’ve done it four times already. We will start filming in three months. I don't have to be perfect right now!” Jeongin exclaimed letting his body fall on the bench on which Jisung and Hyunjin were seated.

      “Hey! Be careful of what you say. My girlfriend is very, much desirable!” Jisung said in a jokingly offended tone earning disgusted groans from the other two men.

      “Really dude? I could have lived my life without knowing that information.” Jeongin started fanning himself with the script. It was a sweltering day.

      “I don’t understand why you are here. You are only four-wheeling us.” Hyunjin remarked, earning himself a dirty look from Jisung.

      “A car needs all four wheels to be functional.”

      “Yeah, babe, but we are a tricycle.”

      Hyunjin, Jeongin and Y/N erupted into laughter at Jisung’s dumbfounded expression. From behind Y/N, they heard even louder laughter and Hyunjin scoffed at the scene unfolding under his eyes. 

      “I swear to God! Mina has been so annoying lately. Much more than when she used to hang out with Jisung. It’s as if she’s following us around.” The man rolled his eyes as he remembered how many times Mina ‘coincidentally’ happened to be in the same place as them the past week.

      “Tell me about it. And how she is always with Jay from our major. If I wanted to watch live porn, I would have signed up on one of those porn sites.” Jeongin seemed as annoyed as the other man.

      “Don’t stress about that guys. I’m pretty sure these are just coincidences.” Y/N tried telling them, even though she knew everything they said was right.

      “No, I’m pretty sure they are not. There’s someone between us whose attention she’s trying to catch.” Hyunjin gave Jisung a side look.

      “You can’t be sure of that.” She played dumb, wanting more than anything to change the subject.

      “ Oh, please! She’s always watching him. In the cafeteria, when we are hanging around on our free periods, when she’s kissing that loser. It’s like he’s a good movie she can’t tear her eyes from.” Jeongin snapped, tired of the whole situation.

      “Then let’s give them something to look at!” Jisung smirked smugly.

      “What do..”

      In the next second, Y/N has been pulled on Jisungs lap, and he captured her lips in an urgent kiss. One hand was on the nape of her head forcefully holding her in the kiss, and the other one was on her ass cheek, squeezing it. 

      She heard someone awkwardly clearing their throat from her right, and all her senses heightened. Y/N placed her hands on Jisung’s shoulders and tried lightly pushing him away while uncomfortably shifting in his lap. As a response, the man groaned lowly and slid his hand from her neck to her chest, cupping it.

      Her eyes widened in shock at his action and mustering all the force she had in her, she pushed him away, finally breaking the kiss. A loud bang ringed around them as her hand made contact with his cheek. Jumping off his lap, she gathered her bag from the leg of the bench.

      “You are a fucking asshole!” She shouted in his face before storming off inside the university.

      The stomping of her boots was echoing in the empty halls, and the few students that were around decided to make her space to pass. Her thinking was clogged at the moment, and all she could feel was rage and shame. She was angrily making her way down the halls, but her destination was uncertain. She just wanted to be as far away from him as possible.

      Y/N heard quick steps from behind her, and a hand pulled at her shoulder. Without turning around, she shrugged it off and started walking faster. The person behind her also increased their walking speed, but this time around, they grabbed her wrist.

      Just as she was preparing to scream in their face, she was pulled into a hug, her face forced into a firm chest. Y/N felt herself calm down as the smell of a cologne she grew accustomed to in the last week invaded her lungs. His hand was gently rubbing her back, and she relaxed under her touch.

      “Are you okay?” Hyunjin whispered softly in her ear.

      She hid her face more in his chest, feeling shame overcome her.

      “I’m sorry you had to see that. I swear it’s not what you think! We’ve never…” Her voice was shaky, as if she was about to cry. Hyunjin cupped her face forcing her to look in his eyes. She could see concern and sadness hiding behind his brown orbs.

      “Why are you apologising to me? You are the one who’s been wronged here. I just wanna make sure you are okay.” His soft voice was acting as a calmative for her racing heartbeat.

      Y/N felt her insides flip at his caring words. His hands on her cheeks were hot, and she decided to blame them for the blush that acaparated her face.

      “Hey! Step away from my girlfriend, you motherfucker!” Jisung’s voice filled her ears, and she saw Hyunjin roll his eyes.

      The warmth of his body left her, and he crossed his arms as Jisung finally arrived in front of them. Hyunjin was looking down at the other man, and both their expressions were filled with anger.

      “I was just making sure she’s fine. It looks like you took your time deciding to do the same.” The taller man spat venom dripping off his tongue.

      “It’s none of your business how I handle my relationship!” Jisung adopted a louder tone bringing his face closer to Hyunjin’s.

      “But it is when you decide to act like a bitch in heat and make your girlfriend uncomfortable. This is why Mina never dated you and why you and Y/N won’t last long!”

      Jisung clenched his jaw upon hearing the other man’s words, and before anyone could register what was happening, he plunged his fist into Hyunjin’s face.

[escapewithbts]

Charity Case - Yoongi

Not super edited, not sure if I love it, blah blah blah, please still enjoy...

I’ve been in such a Yoongi mood lately 😇

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

You stared at your bank statement, or more specifically, your savings account. You had saved up a decent amount of money, that was for sure, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to kickstart your dream.

It all happened a few days ago on a Tuesday afternoon. You had just finished lunch with a friend who was from your home country. The two of you had found a restaurant specializing in the traditional food from there since you both were craving a taste of home. On your walk back to your apartment, you noticed the road you usually took was blocked off with construction (typical for the summertime in Seoul you were learning), so ultimately you had to take a detour, pulling out your Maps app. Although you lived in Hongdae, you really only took the same few roads daily. Therefore, you still did not quite know your way around.

The new directions had you weave down a side street, one you had never been on before. To your surprise, it was full of restaurants, shops, and cafes, and since Hongdae was known for homing many foreigners within the city of Seoul, many of them featured things you were very familiar with from back home.

Strolling down the block you made mental notes of places you wanted to try, places that were bustling with people, figuring they must be good if that’s the case.

All of a sudden, between an American grocery store and floral shop, you noticed a beautiful empty store front. You peered in the large windows and was met with a decent sized space, white walls, white tile floors, a lot of natural lighting. It was perfect. In the corner of the same window there was a sign that read “FOR LEASE” with the name of the agent and a phone number.

You took a picture of said sign before stuffing your phone back in your pocket. There was no harm in calling, right? Even just getting a feel for the space was harmless…right?

For ever since coming to Seoul from abroad, it was your dream to open your own bakery. To make desserts and breads and pastries fresh daily for the Seoulites to try and the foreigners to feel nostalgic for their home countries. You were currently working a boring office job as a translator, saving for the moment you could follow your true dream.

And maybe this was a sign… this was it.

 So, you did call. You did get a feel for the space. And it was perfect. Turns out it had been a pizza shop that went under, (too much competition) so there were already ovens and freezers and refrigeration, all in great working condition. The agent informed you the floor could be ripped up and replaced, there were already light fixtures attached in the ceiling that could connect to chandeliers and you were already picturing plants hanging from macrame in front of the large windows.

But there was just one problem.

As you stared at your savings account and compared it to the down payment in the brochure the realtor had given you… they didn’t match. You were short about 1/3 of the cost, especially since there was still some work to be done inside to really make it your own.

You heart sunk. You mentally scolded yourself for getting your hopes up. It was in such a prime location; how could you have been so stupid to think it was in your price range!

Suddenly, instead of staring at your lack of funds, you were staring at your face in your phone’s front camera as you received a FaceTime call request. ‘Yoongi’ was the name at the top of the phone screen, accompanied by your favorite picture you had taken of him candidly making a gummy smile caused by a joke you had told. Right on time for the daily call you two always had.

You sighed. Did you really want to speak to him right now? You were great friends, you had (stupidly) told him about the place and he had been so incredibly excited for you. He was so supportive and encouraging… it was incredibly endearing. Reminding yourself of that you pressed the green accept button.

Immediately you were met with the handsome face and bleach blonde hair of Min Yoongi. He was resting his head back on his black leather sofa, his narrow eyes meeting yours between screens.

“Hi Yoongi-ah,” you gave him a small smile.

“Hey (y/n).” he responded, returning the smile.

You stood up and walked over to the couch in your small apartment, sitting down and curling your legs underneath you.

“What are you up to?” you asked.

He reached towards the screen and flipped it, so it was now looking forward. An NBA basketball game was playing on the large tv in his living room.

“Watching the game. It’s game 4 of the finals so if Pheonix wins this one they only have one more game to win before they win it all.”

He returned the screen to face him.

“Oh, that’s cool,” you replied, “Did you have a lot on your work schedule today?”

He ran a hand through his hair.

“It wasn’t too bad. Practiced PTD for a Japanese tv performance we have coming up. Worked on some music between rehearsals,” he shrugged, “the usual.”  

You nodded.

“You?” he questioned, “how was your day?”

You looked down at the couch cushions and fiddled with the blanket that laid beside you. You bit your lip before responding.

“Fine. It was fine. I, uh, I had that appointment. With the agent in charge of that space I was interested in?”

Yoongi’s eyes got wide, and he perked his head up.

“Shit, I forgot that was today. How was it? Did you like it as much as you thought you would?”

A small grin appeared on your face remembering how picturesque it had been.

“It was even better than I thought it would be, Yoongs,” you told him.

He smiled wide.

“That’s incredible! So wh-what now? Did you put down the money for it? Or did you need me to come with you to look at it again, see if there’s anything that needs fixing that I can do??”

You closed your eyes tightly and shook your head. He was so sweet, and it broke your heart even more.

“Thank you, Yoongi, for offering, but that… won’t be necessary.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, expecting his next question to make you feel uneasy.

He cocked his head and furrowed his eyebrows.

“What? Why not? I really don’t mind.”

You sighed, suddenly incredibly embarrassed to be admitting this to your friend.

“I just saw the statement of my bank account and, well, I don’t… I can’t afford the down payment. I don’t have enough saved up yet.”

You couldn’t help but look down in shame. Yoongi never talked about his money or how much he made being in BTS, but you weren’t stupid. He worked incredibly hard for everything he and his fellow members have achieved and you were nothing but proud of him. He deserved it all, even the unassumingly large income he was bringing in. He would never, ever flaunt it or make you feel inferior to him because of it, but you still felt slightly inefficient in your confession.

Yoongi’s face softened.

“Oh… I’m-I’m sorry, (y/n).”

You shrugged and gave him a small, hopeful smile.

“It’s alright. It just means it wasn’t meant to be, that’s all.”

He gave you a sympathetic frown.

“But you said it was perfect.” He reminded you.

You placed your fingers to the bridge of your nose.

“Because it is, Yoongi-ah. It’s bright and cozy and practically ready. Not to mention it’s an incredible location,” you rolled your eyes at yourself, “I really should have known it would be too much.”

“How much is it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

You looked away again and scrunched your nose, before telling him the exact amount required to put down in order for the space to be yours.

His mouth formed into that straight line he was known for when he was neither happy nor displeased by something.

“Could you get a loan? Like from a bank?”

You shook your head.

“I already looked into it,” you informed him, “it’s weird because my bank is home, but I’m abroad so there would be a lot of hoops to jump through and the chances of being approved are slim to none. Basically, it’s not worth putting a mark on my credit for.”

He nodded in understanding, looking away for a moment. His eyebrows knitted together in thought, and as much as you appreciated him trying to help you, you had already thought of all the possible solutions, and you didn’t really want to talk about it anymore.

“It’s okay, Yoongs, really, I’ll find someplace else.” You smiled reassuringly at him.

He looked back at you and hummed in agreement before you began talking about something else.

 -

The next day you had barely stepped out of your office building after a long day at work when your phone’s text message notification sound went off.

5:49pm from Yoongi: Are you off work yet?

5:49pm to Yoongi: Leaving now. What’s up?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Can you meet me here at the HYBE building ASAP?

You furrowed your eyebrows.

5:50pm to Yoongi: Sure. Is everything okay?

5:50pm from Yoongi: Yeah, everything is fine

5:51pm from Yoongi: Come to the Forum at the top floor when you get here, okay? I already told the front desk you’re coming

5:51pm to Yoongi: You’re being weird but okay

5:51pm from Yoongi: Don’t worry so much you pabo, it’s nothing bad

You rolled your eyes and locked your phone before hailing a taxi.

 The ride to Yoongi’s work was longer than usual because of traffic, but eventually you made it, giving a wad of cash to the driver and stepping out of the cab. The tall, reflective HYBE building intimidated you a little bit, like you were going to get in trouble just for stepping foot on its grounds, but you confidently passed the transparent sign that read “HYBE We Believe in Music” and opened the doors to the main entrance. A woman at the front desk greeted you and asked to see your ID when you told her you were here to see Min Yoongi. When she confirmed your identity, she gestured toward the elevators.

 “Yes, you may proceed to the Forum on the 19th floor, he is waiting near the café there.”

You nodded and thanked her before letting the elevator doors close in front of you.

The aroma of coffee wafted into your nose immediately upon stepping out of the elevators. It smelled heavenly. You walked past many groups of HYBE businessmen and women taking breaks or in small meetings before finally spotting Yoongi at a table in the corner near the large windows. He was fixated on his phone, an iced Americano on the table in front of him, and another iced drink sitting across. It had been a few weeks since you had seen him in person as his schedule was usually jam packed, but upon seeing him now your heart skipped a beat and a wide smile formed on your lips. You hadn’t seen his newly bleached hair in person yet and he looked even more handsome than you imagined. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight. It was good to see him again. You missed him.

 “Hi,” you said, pulling out the chair and sitting down across from him, “the building is incredible.”

He glanced up at you and nodded in agreement.

 “It’s nice. They did a great job. I don’t mind coming to work as much now.” He chuckled to himself, and you rolled your eyes.

He pointed to the beverage in front of you.

 “The drinks are good, too, I got your favorite.”

You smiled at him and took a sip. He was right, it was delicious.

 “Thanks, Yoongs.”

He stared at you for a moment, a grin forming on his face. Your face felt hot, and you had to look away.

“Sooo… why did you need me here so urgently?” you quickly wondered.

“Urgently?” he retaliated, “it sure took you long enough.”

Oh, how you loved his bluntness.

You scoffed.

“Well, excuuuuse me, Mr. Min, normal people go home from work around this time, so traffic was absolutely horrendous! Could you have picked any other time of day?”

He smiled and looked down at his hands while shaking his head.

“This was literally the only open slot I had today, sorry,” he glanced at the time on his phone, “and I’m already almost out of time as it is.”

You waved your hands, urging him on.

“Well then, what is it that it couldn’t wait?”

He scratched the back of his neck and chuckled nervously.

“Aiisshh okay, please don’t be mad.”

You narrowed your eyes and cocked your head.

“Mad? What? What is it, Min Suga?”

He took a deep breath and reached into the front pocket of his jeans, pulling out a small piece of paper. Then he unfolded it carefully and placed it in the middle of the table facing you.

To your shock, it was a personal check. From Yoongi’s bank account. Written for the exact amount you had told him last night of the down payment for the perfect shop you couldn’t afford.

Your jaw dropped and your eyes left the rectangular paper to look into his. They were a little weary, maybe, but hopeful.

“Yoongi…” you started.

He held up his hand.

“Please. Just take it, (y/n).”

Your heart was pounding. There in front of you was the exact amount you needed to start your dream. Your very own bakery. And combined with the amount you had in your savings you could even add some extra touches!

But… you couldn’t do it. You knew you couldn’t. This was your dream, and even if that amount of money was nothing to someone like Yoongi, you wanted to be the one to earn it, like he had earned all his successes.

“I-I… I can’t, Yoongi.”

He sighed and closed his eyes.

“(y/n) …”

“Thank you, Yoongi, truly, it means so much.”

He shook his head and motioned to the check.

“Then just take it.”

“I don’t want it.”

“But you said so yourself that place is perfect! You were in love with it!”

You nodded, trying to keep your cool. Did he have to keep reminding you how great it was?

“Yes. But I cannot afford it. There will be other places.”

“You can afford it if you take this. Please, (y/n), this won’t hurt me in anyway financially, I’m good. I want you to be, too.”

“I am good, Yoongi. I work hard and I’m saving. This place is just not it and I have to accept that. Maybe a time will come where I can afford someplace like it, and when it does it will be just as perfect.”

He rolled his eyes.

“How do you know you’ll find another place?? Jesus, you’re so fucking stubborn sometimes, (y/n).”

Your hands balled up into fists. Okay that was it. Calling you stubborn because you wanted to be self sufficient had made you hit your boiling point.

“I’m stubborn? How about I just don’t want to be your charity case, idol Min Yoongi, hmm?” you whispered harshly to him, “I can take care of myself, okay? I don’t want your help; I don’t need your help. I’m a fucking adult, too, you know, just because I don’t make millions doesn’t mean I can’t make smart financial decisions. God, do you think I’m just that pathetic?”

You got up to leave, so over this conversation.

Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut.

“What? Fuck, (y/n), no I don’t think you’re pathetic. If anything… I-I’m the pathetic one.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes before marching back toward the elevators and hitting the down arrow button.

Yoongi followed.

“Do you know why?” he asked, jumping into the elevator with you before the doors could close.

It was just the two of you as it began its long descent down 19 floors.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

“Why what? Why you’re pathetic?” you snorted, “Because you just offered your friend an obscene amount of money for something you have no part in?”

He looked down at the floor and took a deep breath.

Finally, he peered back up at you and his dark brown eyes met yours.

“Well, that, and because,” he paused, shuffling nervously on his feet, “because I’m having a really hard time telling that same friend how I truly feel about her.”

Your heart stopped and your mouth fell open again, in a different kind of shock.

“What?” you said softly.

“Fuck, I love you, (y/n)!” the pale skin of his face turned a bright red, and he took his gaze away again, “Aiiisshh, I’m sorry, I’m just horrible at showing my emotions and telling people how I feel. I guess I was hoping offering you the money would help you understand but I didn’t even think how it would come off, I just wanted you to know that I support you and I want to be apart of your decisions in life as more than a friend and- “

You cut off his worrisome rant by flinging yourself towards him and kissing him hard. It was his turn to be shocked, but he instantly got the memo and pushed you back against the wall of the elevator in passion. He wrapped his arms around your waist, his large hands grazing the bare skin of your lower back under your shirt. You gripped your hands in his blonde locks.

The elevator let out a ding signaling you had reached the first floor. You pulled away from each other, panting from the heat of the moment. You smiled.

“I love you, too, Yoongs. But I’m still not taking your money.”

He rolled his eyes and snorted.

Then you started to exit the elevator, but you felt him grab your wrist.

“Wait.”

You turned back toward him with confused eyes.

He grinned at you, his eyes suddenly full of lust.

“Do you maybe... want to see my new studio?”

*

Masterlist

[charmingyong]

Sukidesu

Genre: local!Yuta x tourist!reader (gender neutral), fluff, a dash of angst

Warnings: none

Word count: 1.9k

Plot: You went on a solo trip to Japan after your friend backed out, despite the fact that you barely knew Japanese as you were relying on your friend to be your translator. Thankfully, a local boy helped you out with his limited vocabulary in English.

A/N: in loving memory of my japan trip that got cancelled last year (eff you covid!!) Please let me know if there are any issues with the gender-neutral assignment.

gif: mine

- ❀ -

“I’m really so so sorry, Y/N. I feel so bad,” Aeri said over the phone.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine. And I’m always down for a challenge.”

Aeri being the one who planned the trip was upset that her boss decided to be rude and have her come in for work, stressing about her presence being needed to handle a very important client. “I swear, I would have handed my resignation letter if it weren’t for the good pay.”

You rolled your eyes at her words. “Don’t say that. I’m sure we can go again together in the future.”

“Yeah, but are you really okay going alone? You don’t even know any Japanese except for like four words or something.”

She was right. You had only picked up a few words from the handful of anime shows you watched, not to mention that you knew nothing on how to read any of the writing systems. “I have the translator ready on my phone. I should be fine.” Though your confidence wavered the last second before hearing the boarding announcement of your flight, you tried to remain strong and think that everything would all work out. “It’s time for me to go now. I’ll text you when I get there.”

- ❀ -

[Memory one]

You let out a long sigh as you stared at the foreign characters on the menu board, never learning any of the Japanese writing systems. The lady owner patiently waited for you to give her your order.

“I… I don’t know,” you muttered, your head hanging low. Anything would do as long as it filled your stomach and was an authentic local specialty.

“Um hello?”

You heard from behind you. Turning around, you found a boy giving you a shy look. “Oh hi,” you politely greeted back with a confused look.

He shifted on his feet. “I uh... you help?” he offered with an unsure tone as he struggled a bit with his broken English.

“You want to help me?”

He nodded.

You smiled gratefully. “Thank you so much! I just want anything good and will add to my experience here.”

“Good?” The boy picked up and said, “I...” and lost his words before pointing at him and then at the owner.

“Oh, you want to order for me?”

He hesitated but nodded eventually when hearing ‘for me.’ “Yes.” The boy turned to the lady, placing an order with two fingers held up. The lady smiled and quickly got to work preparing the round fried food, and soon enough handed two plates of takoyaki to each of you.

You thanked her and took a bit of it with your chopsticks, eyes going wide with the flavour bursting in your mouth. “Woah! This is really good!” you beamed happily at him. “Thank you so much! And oh, I almost forgot. I’m Y/N,” you introduced yourself with a wide grin.

He mirrored it back, making him look like an angel with his healing smile. “I Yuta.”

- ❀ -

[Memory two]

“So cool,” you uttered under your breath as your eyes wandered around the vast array of Japanese sandals on the walls.

Too busy deciding which style to go for, you didn’t hear another customer enter the small traditional shop until they spoke your name.

“Y/N?” The voice was familiar, and you twirled around to see Yuta’s smile grow, relieved that he guessed you right.

“Oh! Yuta!” you smiled back. “It’s nice to see you again.”

He nodded in agreement. “Yes. How... are you?”

“I’m great, except...” your eyes traveled back to the wall.

His face fell slightly in worry. “What wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nothing bad. I just don’t know which pair to buy. They all look so good,” you pointed to the variety of sandals.

He hummed and asked, “Can I help?”

You blinked at him. “You want to?” An opinion from the local cute boy was definitely something you’d be down for.

His pearly whites were on full display as he nodded eagerly. “Yes.”

- ❀ -

[Memory three]

Just as your eyes were fixed on observing the cute little souvenirs on the shelves, you heard a series of loud knocks on the window and you jumped, being startled greatly by it. You looked out the window and found a familiar Japanese boy peeking into the shop, laughing happily when he caught your attention. He backed off to make his way into the shop.

“Yuta, you scared me there,” you laughed it off.

He sheepishly apologized. “Sorry.”

Shaking your head, you said “It’s okay. But it’s nice to see you, once again.”

He nodded and was lost in his thoughts for a moment. “Um Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You alone?”

You nodded. “Yeah, my friend couldn’t come, and I really wanted to explore Japan. So I came alone.”

He took in your words, his brain on full gear to process them. “Can I help?”

“Help? Like how?”

He pointed at himself. “I... uh travel... you...”

It took you a few seconds before you were able to grasp his thought. “Do you want to be my tour guide and show me around here?”

“Ah! Yes. Your tour guide,” he beamed excitedly like a little child who learned a new word.

That sounded like a great idea. While you had the itinerary that you and your friend prepared, you weren’t dead set on doing everything list there as long as you were able to enjoy your time and explore to your heart’s content. After all, you were going to come back anyway with your friend in the future. And a plus point with having Yuta as a guide, you wouldn’t be struggling with your limited Japanese ability.

You nodded, your lips curling up joyfully. “I’d love that.”

- ❀ -

[Memory four]

“Yuta? Where’s-”

You had probably asked the Japanese boy a million things by now when shopping inside the variety store. Before Yuta became your traveling buddy, you had to rely on capturing the Japanese writings on your phone and have the texts translated via an app. Not to mention having to stroll down the aisles endlessly looking for a particular thing.

He showed you the ramen cups of interest as well as recommended some face masks, cleansing tissues, and sweet treats, especially matcha flavoured. “This good,” he pointed out.

You hummed curiously and put them all in your basket. “Thanks, Yuta. You’re a lifesaver.”

His ears perked up at the thought of him ‘saving your life’ and smiled proudly.

- ❀ -

[Memory five]

“You sure you’re doing it right?” you asked worriedly.

Getting lost in Japan was not on your to-do list. But it was fine to as long as you weren’t alone.

Yuta was trying to figure out how to get the tickets printed at the Kyoto Station. “Long time,” he chuckled nervously.

Going around Kyoto was apparently something he hadn’t done in a while being an Osaka man. You shrugged, “Looks like this will be an experience for both of us,” you joked.

He managed to have gotten the right tickets and you two sat in the train side by side. “Kyoto pretty,” he commented. “Very good,” he added with thumbs up.

The train began moving and you by the window made sure to pay attention to the scenery.

“Wow! The cherry blossoms are so beautiful under the blue sky,” you chatted cheerfully. “And those houses look so pretty,” you gushed, getting anime vibes from how neighbourhoods looked in them.

Yuta watched you getting excited over the sceneries, and was pleased to show you something that wasn’t on your itinerary in the first place.

- ❀ -

[Memory six]

Yuta watched you closely as you licked the matcha soft serve in hand.

You let the cold cream swirl around your tongue and hummed. “Wow, this is nice!”

He beamed, squealing as he clapped his hands from the happiness. “Yes,” he exclaimed. “My favourite,” he pointed to your cone.

The cream got stuck in your throat and you choked a little. His eyes grew concerned and asked, “You okay?”

“Yeah yeah, don’t worry. It’s just... you look so cute when you get happy like that,” you spoke a little shy.

He blushed deeply and looked away, a smile threatening to tug at his lips from hearing you call him cute.

- ❀ -

[Memory seven]

Ferris wheel.

The perfect way to end your trip by looking out into the nighttime view of Yuta’s hometown.

He sat across from you as you curiously looked at every lighting in the city. “Wow, it’s all so really beautiful, Yuta,” you breathed out.

His smile wasn’t his usual one. It was more forced, almost sad and you noticed it.

“What’s wrong?”

He shook out of his thoughts and said, “Nothing. Um... you like Japan?”

A fond smile took over your features. “Yes, very much. It’s all thanks to you, Yuta.” Your heart started aching at the memories made during your trip. If it weren’t for him, you would have struggled to get through with the littlest things.

He hummed and gave you a courteous smile before fixing his eyes out the transparent windows of the cart, silently willing himself to not tear up in front of you.

- ❀ -

[Memory eight]

Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes as you became emotional and super grateful standing in front of your personal Japan tour guide for one last time at the airport.

“Thank you so much for all your help, Yuta. It was really nice meeting you,” you smiled sorrowfully. Truth being told, you were sad that you had to say goodbye to an amazing friend made on your beautiful journey. “Let’s keep in touch. You have my contact, right?”

He nodded. “Yes. Um Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

Yuta dug his hand inside his pocket and pulled out a cherry blossom keychain. “For you,” he said, holding it out for to take.

You were speechless, not expecting a gift from him. “For me? Why?”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking up. “I like you.” His confession caught you by surprise. “I hope you come back. I... I hope we still talk...” he trailed off, doubting himself if he said the right thing at the wrong time, considering it was minutes before you’d have to catch your flight.

Slowly, your head nodded to his words, confirming them all. “We will. We will keep in touch, I’ll come back again. And I like you too,” you spoke sincerely with soft eyes.

- ❀ -

You reminisced the beautiful memories made in Japan with Yuta. It had been almost a year and the two of you were in frequent touch, talking about anything and everything in your video calls. You even learned some Japanese while he worked on improving his English.

While your eyes were focused on glancing at all the people sitting in the cafe, the door chimed open and in walked the Japanese boy that you had been waiting forever to see again.

He spotted you immediately and made a straight beeline towards you. “Y/N!” He beamed excitedly. “I’m so happy to see you again!”

You laughed at his cuteness. “Same, and you’ve gotten better speaking English.”

“All thanks to my beautiful English teacher,” he flirted boldly.

You rolled your eyes playfully at him and asked, “So Yuta, are you ready to explore my country?”

[wendimydarling]

Cover the Mirrors

Summary: Amber is earning a masters degree in mythology and folklore; when a handsome stranger sweeps her off her feet, she’s left wondering how, and struggles to keep up with his lifestyle.

Pairing: Vampire!August Walker x OFC (first person reader)

Word Count: 6826

Warnings: Alright, we ready to get into the menu of delights we will be reading today? Okay but seriously, if you are triggered by anything on this list, it is your responsibility to not read this work of fiction. The warnings are as follows: manipulation, subtle exhibitionism, fingering, penetrative sex, mention of oral (male receiving), biting, clawing, choking, blood, male violence, gore, non-con, rape, spitting, fear play, primal play, breeding, mention of death, torture, and potentially cannibalism, if you squint.

A/N: Okay so this story is based off of this thread where @killjoy-assbutt-1112​ gave me a fic title, but I added another twist to it that I’d been brewing for months; I was excited about it but now I’m not. Whatever, I’ll give it to you anyway. Sources for my vampire lore came from here and here. Cover art was made by me; August was drawn by the amazingly talented @cheyentjj​ and has been used with her permission. Thank you so much to everyone who brainstormed with me, and a special thanks to @agniavateira​ for betaing! 

“If you look at the Slavic region, vampire folklore runs rampant. One especially interesting specimen is the Pijavica. The Pijavica (translated “leech”, or “drinker”) was a rare species of vampire— traditionally male, and a powerfully strong, cold-blooded killer. The potential for conception is most commonly believed to be through the incest of the deceased with his mother during his life, though some believe that one can be created through the exceptionally malicious and evil acts of the deceased before his death. 

The birth of a Pijavica is attributed to many different causes, including suffering an “unnatural” or untimely death such as suicide, excommunication, improper burial rituals, or even simple causes such as an animal jumping or bird flying over either the corpse or the empty grave, being conceived on certain days, or being born with a caul, teeth, or tail.” 

I paused my typing, fingers leaving the keyboard in order to brush loose strands of hair from my face. Around me, the baristas of my favorite coffee shop were buzzing like worker bees in an old hive; they were gearing up for the lunch rush, and I realized I’d been here four hours already. 

This place had long been my go-to study zone. It was small; there was just enough hustle and bustle to keep me from descending too deep into the abyss of studying and yet, it had the respect of the patrons that a library does. The owner, Fred, made sure that conversations were kept in hushed tones, courteous to those of us who needed to work in noise instead of quiet. 

“If ya wanna be loud, go sit at a Starbucks!” He’d huff at those who didn’t heed his warning.

My eyes took in the familiar surroundings as I stretched. An oversized wood-burning fireplace filled the wall next to the vintage cash register; it was sandwiched between two built-in bookcases housing stories of all kinds that were meant to be read and enjoyed. The old stone clackling ran all the way up the wall, and a custom mantle made from an old oak tree that had fallen in Fred’s backyard sat delicately above the firebox. Yes, this shop was magical. It held a special place in my heart, and I’d visited so often that old Fred had deemed the table I sat at as “my table”. It was always kept reserved for me. 

I reached for my coffee without looking; my brain needed more caffeine. I’d spent months on this master thesis, and yet for some reason, the notion of vampires was such a struggle. I didn’t understand the fear of those who lived back then. The origins of bloodsuckers were chaotic, the “treatments” laughable and still, people were willing to kill their own offspring over such nonsensical superstitions. Cold drops of stale roast hit my lips in a harsh reminder that I’d finished my previous dose. I sighed heavily and dropped the cup to the wooden surface of my table. Eyes closed, I laced my fingers around my neck and drew my elbows together to stretch my spine. Coffee. I need more coffee.

“Having trouble?”

A man’s baritone, smooth as whiskey interrupted my thoughts. My body jolted at his leisurely tone, and I nearly tumbled off the chair as my eyes snapped open to view the intruder. Sitting across from me was anything but a man; I was in the presence of divine artistry, two breathtaking orbs of gray-washed sky centered below auburn curls that adorned his perfectly symmetrical face. A sharp nose pointed to his strong jaw, while an amused smirk tugged at the corner of lips that I’m certain could send even a nun to her bedroom for self-maintenance. He wore a crisp, pinstripe suit, the buttons of his dress shirt undone sinfully low, revealing a smattering of additional curls. 

My oversized turtleneck sweater and leggings suddenly felt subpar.

“The name’s Walker,” he mused further, gesturing a large hand toward the empty paper tumbler that was now lying on its side. “What were you drinking?”

“I--I um,” I fumbled with my words, embarrassed by my sudden inability to form a proper sentence. “I had a flat white? With two extra shots of espresso.”

The man named Walker had the cup in his hand and was out of his chair before I could blink; he was already ordering another coffee by the time I managed to process his intentions. I watched him hand the barista a bill I couldn’t see, but by the shocked expression on her face at the man’s declination of the change, it must have been a sizable amount. He sat down at the table again and stared at my chest unabashedly, making it clear he wasn’t just looking but imagining as well.

I should have been offended or felt objectified, but instead I felt drawn into his gaze.

“Having trouble?” He asked again, gesturing this time at my laptop.

“How long were you sitting there?” I blurted out, still too flummoxed to answer his question. Walker laughed and I swear, time stood still. Never in my life had I heard something so beautiful.

“Long enough.”

His reply was short and cryptic, a dismissal of my burgeoning curiosity. The barista chose that moment to bring two orders of coffee to the table, offering both of them to Walker by mistake. I took in her awestruck countenance, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if my face matched hers I’d sink to the floor and die of shame. That notion shook me from my stupor and I was finally able to address his question.

“It’s my master thesis,” I explained, taking a sip of the scalding liquid he handed me. “I’m a History major, with an emphasis in mythology and folklore.”

I took another sip and tapped my phone, large numbers greeting me on the screen. Numbers that told me I was extremely late.

“Oh my god I have to go, I’m so sorry!” I apologized, scrambling to pack my things. In my haste I knocked my drink off the table. Resignation sunk in deep, submission to the knowledge of further humiliation at the impending spill. None came however, as Walker caught the drink in his hand before it crashed to the dark tiles.

“Thank you,” I murmured, gawking at him in bewilderment. Who was this man?

“It’s my pleasure,” he said, standing to help me collect the remainder of my books. “I’m interested in your thesis, could we perhaps discuss it over dinner? I don’t want to keep you from your next engagement.”

“I—” I stared at him, his face open and inviting. I’d been asked out before, but never this abruptly, and never by someone who looked and behaved like him. It sounded like an adventure…or a good story to tell on girls’ night at least.

“You know what, sure. Why not?”

I scribbled my number onto a napkin and slid it his way, grabbing the rest of my gear and heading toward the door. As I pushed against the hard metal, Walker’s large fingers caught my wrist, wrapping around it like ivy wraps around a lamppost. They were cool to the touch and yet somehow, my entire body immediately felt heated.

“We forgot first names,” he chuckled, “I’m August.”

I grinned sheepishly, pulling my arm from his surprisingly firm grip. The clank of the metal door handle resonated with the introduction I threw over my shoulder as I left the warmth of the shop and the handsome man behind.

“Amber.”

It took August a full week to call me. I felt like a fool; Did I leave on a poor note? Had I offended him somehow? Did he simply decide to change his fucking mind? I was kicking myself for saying yes; how could I have agreed to go on a date with a complete stranger? Now that I was no longer in his flustering presence, I began to see reason again. I knew nothing more than this man’s name, and the fact that he was more than likely rich. He could be a cold-blooded killer for all I knew, and I had every intention of telling him off.

I was in my apartment when he called. Still stuck on my thesis, I was currently unable to determine how best to explain the theory behind the sexual appeal of vampires. In my frustration, I hung upside down over the side of my bed, reading a book that discussed the many different works of literature revolving around vampirical romanticism and hoping the blood rushing to my brain would help me ascertain how to go about my explanation. The book was written by two authors who essentially argue the whole time, one of them convinced that the human fascination with vampires stems from the cannibalistic nature of bloodsucking or that it alluded to other bodily fluids such as semen, whereas the other stood firm in his belief that it held a much simpler cause; it was nothing more than the presence of oral fixation and sadism that caused the fantasy to plant its seed.

My phone vibrated but I ignored it, too engrossed in my book to be bothered with answering. I was so close… the answer was right there, it just continued to escape me. It wasn’t until my phone vibrated a second time to notify me of a voicemail that I put the pages down and picked up the electronic device.

The moment I heard August excusing his delay in calling to a work emergency, I immediately sat up and hit redial. There was something in his voice that made my heart quicken and my pulse race; it made the hair on my arms stand on end. I regretted sitting up so fast as it rang, the blood surrounding my brain draining quickly into the rest of my body. August answered on the second ring.

“Hi, Amber.”

“I—hi.”

I rolled my eyes then flinched in pain, congratulating myself sarcastically on how pathetic that response sounded with a slap of my palm to my forehead.

“Please, allow me to apologize again for waiting so long to call,” August insisted, seemingly unphased by my lack of vocabulary. “I still intend to take you to dinner, that is if you haven’t written me off completely.”

“No it’s fine, I totally get it,” I assured him. I had completely forgotten my earlier annoyance. He had explained it after all, and it could happen to anyone.

“Perfect. I’ll send a car tonight then, at seven. Wear something revealing please, I wasn’t able to see that pretty little neck of yours last time.”

My insides shook with an unexpected pang of shocked arousal at August’s request. The sexual confidence saturating his tone had me instantly reduced to nothing more than a deep desire for him to drag me to my knees by my hair. Why I wasn’t offended by the dominantly abrupt way this man spoke to me, I’ll never know. I put on the best flirty air I could manage in my stupor.

“I think I can manage that. Might have to charge you though.”

August laughed for the second time since I’d known him and I smiled, proud that I’d caused such a melodious sound to grace this earth.

“I like your spirit; you’re gonna be fun. I’ll see you tonight.”

“I—okay bye,” I managed to say before he hung up. I stared at my phone stupidly, as though I thought he was going to call again. Instead, the large clock face glared up at me like it always does, an ever present reminder that I live on a different plane of time than the rest of the world. I fell back on the bed, thinking about the man named August.

He likes my spirit? I hadn’t really shown him much, I’d been unable to do anything but stammer and trip over my words like a schoolgirl would when confronted by the cutest jock at school. What could he possibly see in me? The woman I truly was, the one I knew was underneath the bumbling idiot finally answered me. You’ve got three hours, Amber. Show him what you’re made of.

Resolve set in, and I bounced off the bed and walked toward my closet. For whatever reason, he’d chosen me, so I was going to let my confidence in that thought override all the self-doubt that was threatening to surface. I pulled my favorite dress from the hanger and set out to work. He wanted revealing? Then revealing is what he’d get, but I was going to do it my way.

The car was punctual, though I was less so. I scrambled to put diamond studs in my ears while being driven to some unknown location, my nerves making my hands shake. Once again, the notion that I could be driving to my death crept up my spine, but I brushed it off. Rich men send cars, it’s what they do. And I am an intelligent woman, I wouldn’t let myself be put in that situation.

Would I?

Touching the final stroke of Red Wine lipstick on my lips, I pulled my loose curls over my shoulder to expose my neck and put my things in my vintage black clutch, staring out the window at the ancient building that housed the most expensive club in town. I was suddenly grateful I’d chosen such a fancy dress. I fidgeted with the soft hem of the sleeve at my wrist, drawing it back and forth between my fingers while I waited for the driver to come to a stop.

I saw August there waiting, looking sharp as ever in another expensive three-piece suit, buttons undone just as low as the first time. This time however, I felt much better matched to his attire, and my confidence rose right next to my excitement. August came down the steps to open the door and I took his hand, hiking the burgundy velvet up to my thigh so that I could exit the car smoothly. The heavy fabric dropped to the ground the moment I freed it from my grasp, allowing August to study how I’d chosen to honor his request.

August drank in my covered form, taking in the way my dress hugged my curves and accentuated what it needed to. His eyes darkened as they lingered on the single large triangular section of bare skin that started at my shoulders and came to a point between my breasts, and I watched his tongue dart out of his mouth softly. He looked downright hungry. August stepped closer, fingertips grazing the flesh on my collarbone before he fastened his grip onto my nape and inhaled the hair at my temple deeply, pressing his lips to my ear.

“You are simply mouthwatering,” he growled, low and possessive. His hand released my neck and slid down to the small of my back, sending a shiver down my spine. My insides quivered at his touch, fragrant drops of dew pooling rapidly in the flimsy lace that guarded my mound from potential intruders.

“You wanted to see my ‘pretty little neck’,” I teased his earlier arrogance, lifting my skirt to traverse the steps leading inside, “I thought I’d frame her for you, give her the spotlight.”

August cocked an eyebrow at me in amusement, sensing my challenge. His fingers dug into my hip a little harder than necessary as he guided me through the establishment with nothing more than a nod to the hostesses. Apparent jealousy marred the face of one, and I thought I saw a hint of worry on the other. We were gone before the emotion could register in my mind.

I was escorted to a private booth in the upstairs of the establishment. While the first floor was crowded and full of people, the second floor was empty; August had requested it for our use alone. I could hear the hum of nightlife below, the haunting, non-lyrical melody of a soft alto wafting over the balcony as we walked past, the whispered promise of an enchanting night. A few tables and chairs were strategically placed on the floor, hugged by back-to-back rounded booths on either wall. Light ethereal curtains hung on either side of them, offering privacy from the guests who would typically sit in the next box over. August led me to the corner booth nearest the balcony so that we could look upon the stage if we chose.

“Our table, milady,” he joked, leaving a wet kiss on the back of my hand. Though the charade was seemingly in jest, it could not have been farther from it. His piercing eyes never left mine and I gasped at the feel of his brazen tongue on my skin. The suggestion of what he could do with it hung thick in his gaze, lacing the air with the succulent first tendrils of decadent tension. Playing along, I took a sharp breath and curtsied. I stayed low as August stood to show him the appeal of my figure at this angle, tilting just my head to look up at him. He stood there, head held high like a king, and the smile I received at my display was downright sinful.

“What a treat you are,” he murmured, cupping my chin briefly. My breasts swelled as I stood, consenting August the claim to chivalry by way of settling me into the alcove. He swept my hair over my shoulder again, trailing a single finger down my neck in admiration before taking his own seat. My insides were nothing but a pile of kindling, and every touch he gave was a spark that threatened to ignite the dry leaves into a burning flame of need.

The courses came and went just like those moments, every phrase emphasized with physical intimacy of some kind, whether it be just a gossamer brush of his fingers on my ear or an intentional grasping of my hand. He went as far as to boldly stroke the back of his knuckle along my cleavage, making me dizzy with desire. Each touch was avaricious—like he owned me—and I had zero qualms about letting him.

We ate our fill, but August made no move to leave the comfort of our small corner. With the noise of people below dulled by the far reaches of our seclusion, it was easy to converse. I told him more about my master thesis and the Pijavica, how they could read minds and enjoyed the power of persuasion, how they were impervious to all but decapitation, and how only their offspring could kill them. He listened intently, sharing tales of his own career. It was how I discovered that he was a doctor.

“I don’t practice anymore though, I prefer to study and learn. Specifically, I’m attracted to tears.”

“Tears?” That struck me as odd; it wasn’t often you came across someone who had such a unique field of study. “Why tears?”

August swirled the whiskey in his glass and downed it abruptly. He subtly indicated to our attendant for another before continuing his explanation.

“I’ve always had a fascination for the small things, things that people don’t seem to think matter; the mind-body connection, you know? For example,” he brushed a thumb over my cheekbone, “Did you know that the cellular structure of tears looks different based on the type of tear?”

August cupped my neck with both of his hands, tilting my head this way and that, his calm features set in measured focus as he spoke.

“Basal, reflexive, emotional... they all look different.”

I closed my eyes, letting him caress my skin. August’s touch was intoxicating, addicting. Even his scent was an aphrodisiac to my senses. I couldn’t get enough of it, lured ever closer to his sturdy frame, letting him manipulate my body how he saw fit. He nuzzled my hair, his soft spoken words dripping with lust into my ear.

“In fact,” he went on, “Even among those categories they differ, dependent on the stimuli.”

I could feel his breath on my neck, his lips surrounding the pulsepoint in my veins as he spoke, my jaw his destination. A hand snuck under my skirt, skimming along my trembling skin toward the seeping treasure that awaited him at the end of his journey. I spread my legs willingly, inviting him into my deepest of secrets. August hummed as he went on, sending spirals of tingling vibrations through my chest.

“The sting of onions, the sadness of grief… the satisfaction of overwhelming pleasure.”

“August…” I breathed, but my voice was severed as August simultaneously laid claim to my mouth and my womb. Thick fingers penetrated me in the same moment as his probing tongue, and it was in that moment I knew I was lost; August Walker could pull everything from me and I wouldn’t care; I’d want it, need it. He had spent all night teasing me, testing me, manipulating me and filling me with nothing but a desire for more, leaving me empty and wanting. He had succeeded, I now craved him above all else in this world.

August lifted my skirts, hoisting me with little effort to straddle his lap and I cried out in shock. The sound of my sudden impalement on the thick steel of his manhood was camouflaged by the crowd of people below; no one heard the echo of carnal awakening that sang through the air. When had he undressed? I bit my lip as he sank deeper into my core until the salty bitterness of copper and iron stung my chin. August’s eyes fell to the red droplet, darkening until the only color left in his pale irises was the very absence of light. With a hideous growl he ravaged my mouth, tasting every inch of my bruised lips with the hunger of an animal that’s been caged for far too long.

Thrill and terror tangled themselves in my mind, weaving an intricate web of wanton desire inside of me as August took me right there in the booth. Time itself seemed to halt, the room disappeared. Were we still in the club? Was it still the dead of night? Did I still require oxygen to breathe? Or was my life source now August’s touch, the light in my very soul dependent upon his kiss?

I didn’t notice when we left, nor when we arrived at a house that overlooked the city. I didn’t notice the lock on the basement door, or the fresh garden in the yard. I didn’t notice the continual rising and setting of the sun. I didn’t notice when I grew hungry, nor when I grew tired. I didn’t notice, not anything but passion, need, and desperation.

I didn’t notice.

Sleep drained from my limbs slowly. I awoke to black silk caressing my skin, dim sunlight shining through the wall, diffused by a covering of clouds that hung in the sky. It confused me that it was coming through the entire wall, until I realized that said wall was simply one large window, and the room I found myself in was built into the rock of an obsidian cliff overlooking the city. The room was minimally decorated in dark tones that coordinated with the nature outside, save for a striking, golden painting of a woman crying on the far wall. I clearly wasn’t home, and last night’s events slowly returned to the forefront of my mind.

August.

August was, without a doubt, the most attentive lover I’d ever had. Memories of his lips, his scent, his god-like physique that was surely carved from marble entertained my thoughts, returning my mind to the pleasure I’d never experienced in my life. Chills ran up and down my skin, alighting in wonder as my hand drifted to my sex. My fingers found my petals, swollen from overuse, aching in the dull agony of satisfaction. I stroked them gently, soothing the pleasant tenderness, moaning softly as the blood rushed to swell my clit once more, my other hand slipping beneath the silk to join in the heavenly edging torment.

A sharp, sudden sting at the brush of my inner thigh caused me to cry out, my hands snatching away from their play. I sat up, peering beneath the sheets to discover a semi-circle of divots cut into my leg. Is that a… a bite mark? I pulled at the skin and felt the dried blood crack, a small pinprick of new red seeping through the scab. I lunged from the bed to stand in front of the full-length mirror in the corner and look for other signs or markings, but what I found made me gasp.

Bruises peppered my neck, chest, hips and thighs. A few other crescents were scattered amongst them, standing out against the dark patches that shaded my skin. I took a physical inventory then, feeling the soreness in my jaw from being stretched by his cock, the ache of my neck from having my hair pulled, the shaky feeling of muscular fatigue in my legs from being tensed by orgasm after orgasm. I thought I detected a slight sheen on my skin, but I couldn’t tell if that was from the tremulous bliss of a satisfying fuck, or if it was the sweat and oil caused by said satisfying fuck. Either way, I looked happy and content. I grabbed August’s dress shirt from the floor and threw it on as I left the room to explore.

The bedroom led to a hallway, the wall to my left still nothing but expansive glass that showed off the impressive view. On the other side were large, black and white abstract prints, hung evenly spaced against dark panels. To the left of each was a shadow box with an ornate glass vial inside; each bottle was thin, no longer than my palm and differing in design from the others. Tiny, intricate patterns were painted on the outsides in white, blue, and gold, and gold stoppers sealed each one. When I entered the main room, I discovered a curio cabinet that housed at least a hundred of them, and I leaned in to look at how varied each one was.

“Victorian tear catchers,” August’s voice was suddenly behind me and I whirled sharply, startled. He chuckled at my alarm and I laughed with him, enjoying that glorious sound.

“They’re beautiful,” I murmured, turning back to look at the delicate glass. August pulled me against his naked chest, nosing my hair and kissing my neck.

“Yes you are,” he whispered, earning an eye roll from me. August chuckled and opened the cabinet.

“Would you like one?”

“Really?”

I looked at him, stunned. He simply nodded his head in the direction of the vials and I examined them, selecting one that had a white pattern on it that looked like lace.

“Mmm, a good choice. Perhaps I can collect tears of ecstasy for you,” August whispered. The thrill of what he was implying awakened my senses, and I let him lead us slowly back toward the bedroom. I felt like teasing him, so I delayed a bit by asking about the art on the wall.

“What are those?” I pointed to the first print, a cross-hatching pattern that looked like it was made of sewing pins.

“Those are tears of grief,” he stated, stopping in front of each as he walked me gradually down the hall.

“A yawn,” he said of the next, a white background with dark, fern-looking splatters. August traced his mouth along my jaw, his hand dipping beneath the button of his shirt to play with the sensitive nipples he had rediscovered. I keened as he continued shifting us toward the kitchen, struggling to keep my composure. The next print was a much darker gray, and it looked like it was covered in snowflakes.

“Any guesses?” August asked, mouthing my earlobe in tandem with the flick of his thumbs over my hardened nubs. I whimpered, my knees weak in his lustful embrace.

“Uhm… cold air?” I rasped as he sucked on my neck. August chuckled through his nose, the vibrations of his voice rippling through my chest to connect with his teasing fingers.

“Onions.”

“Yeah okay.”

I tilted my head so that I could kiss him, but suddenly the thought of onions turned my stomach. I lurched, pulling away and gagging slightly. Instead of concern, August smiled knowingly, seemingly unbothered by my retching.

“I see morning sickness has set in. It’s a little early and I had hoped you’d be able to avoid it, but alas, that’s not the case.”

My head swam suddenly, confusion mutilating all thought. I backed away from him.

“Morning what? What are you talking about?”

August took a step toward me, placing a hand on my belly and lacing his fingers in the hair at my nape.

“Women always taste better after they’ve conceived. And I can keep them longer; they make much more blood when they’re host to a fetus.”

I pushed against him, turning away and vainly attempting to process his words. Pregnant? Taste better? Blood? My eyes focused on a card I hadn’t noticed earlier in the shadow box, a single word printed on it.

Bridgette

“Isn’t it ironic,” August mused, tracing my collarbone with a thick finger, “That five weeks ago, you had a chance encounter with the very thing you’ve been studying for months, and now you carry his child.”

The room spun. I couldn’t think; my brain refused to process the nonsense he spoke.

“Five—five weeks?! No that’s not possible, our date was last night!”

“It’s more than possible, sweet morsel. Think about it.”

Bile rose thick and acrid in my throat then, threatening to spill. Memories and time started filtering into my mind, replacing the fog with everything I’d lost. The last puzzle piece clicked into place, confusion all but disappeared and I was left with nothing but the cold, terrifying truth. Pijavica. Vampire. Monster.

I’d fallen into the clutches of a monster.

I did the only thing I could think of; I slapped him as hard as I could and took off through the house, ignoring the sharp pain of a chunk of hair remaining in his hand. My heart pounded in my chest, desperate to be free of this sudden nightmare. I slammed into the front door and grabbed the handle, a strangled sob catching in my throat when it wouldn’t open.

I rattled the door knob, panic consuming every fiber of my being. Suddenly, it wasn’t just my life I was fighting for; apparently there was a life inside of me that needed protecting. The child of a Pijavica that was depending on me to escape, so that he could come back and kill his father. I have to get out. I gave up on the door in anger, spinning around and looking for another way.

“Do you know why I chose you?”

I heard August’s voice again, but he was nowhere to be seen. His voice came louder, penetrating my mind. I have to keep moving.

“It was because of your name; they match your eyes.”

I whimpered at his words, sneaking my head around a corner to survey the living space for some form of an exit.

“Amber has a historical application, you see,” he went on, louder. I dashed over the floor, desperate to be gone from him. Door after door remained locked, and my terror grew with each attempt. Every now and then I could hear August, whether it be a rustle of fabric or the knock of his foot on the wooden floor. The scholar in me knew that it was on purpose, that he was luring his prey, giving chase to his food, and yet my rational mind refused to take charge. I was being led by my flight response, and his jarring monologue wasn’t helping.

“Throughout history, whenever a goddess cried it was typically tears of amber, save for the goddess Freya, who cried gold. You met her in the bedroom.”

His laughter echoed through the dark walls of his lair, and chilled me to my core. It was no longer a beautiful sound, but grating and horrible. I was nothing but a petty human to play with, some toy that he could eat when he tired of me. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I came to the last door. Dear God, please let this one open. To my utter relief, the door swung wide and I was met with stairs. Stairs went down, and we were on a cliff. Down was good. Down meant freedom.

I clambered down the steps and flung open the door at the bottom, stumbling into the room and falling to the floor in horror and fear. There in front of me, was nothing but mirrors. A maze of mirrors, each one showing me my trembling features, mocking me, letting me know just how fucked I was. I turned back, intending to go back up the stairs and try another way, but August’s silhouette stood at the top, preventing me from going back into the house. I heard a scream and realized it was my own.

Scrambling off the floor, I took off into the maze, blinded by my tears.

“Each of those girls made it this far you know,” August taunted. I heard the slam of the door and nearly choked as I ran. “You’ll die in this room, just like they did.”

His nonchalance, his continual unconcern about chasing me, his arrogance that he would no doubt catch me made me so angry. I raced from path to path, growing ever more frantic every time I reached a dead end. I didn’t even know if this room had an exit, I just knew I had to keep moving. I tripped over something as I rounded a corner, screaming when I saw what it was.

“I see you found Bridgette,” August chuckled, and I looked up from the skeleton to see his hideous face marred with a sinful sneer. I gasped and took off again, turning this way and that. Hitting another dead end, I doubled back and ran smack into August’s broad torso. He caught me and held me close as I screamed, ripping his shirt from my body. He spun me around, pinning my wrists between my back and his belly, trailing his fingers languidly over my naked frame in an inspection of his handiwork. My jaw was gripped in an iron vice and August forced my gaze to the mirror.

“Do you see what I see?” he mocked. I could only stare in horror, for nothing but my own terrified expression stared back at me.

August had no reflection.

“Out of all the patterns in the world, do you know which tears are my favorite?” August continued to torment. He inhaled my hair deeply, snaking his tongue along the length of my cheek, tasting the stains my tears had left in their wake.

“Fear.”

I heard August growl as I fought against him, his iron grasp caging me against his cool skin, more of the cursed moisture pooling in my eyes. Glassy drops fell, retracing a new path toward my chin but August just kissed them away, shoving me to the floor when my knees buckled of their own accord. He let go of my hands to fidget with his slacks, pulling me back toward him every time I tried to crawl away as a parent would to a petulant child. On the third attempt he snapped my knee, a scream tearing from my throat in my woeful submission to his desire.

Finally free of his clothes, August lifted my hips, lining his rigid cock up against my sweat-soaked folds. He dove into my treasure without care, forcing his way into the depths of my belly, stretching and tearing my walls until he was fully sheathed. Strong arms wrapped around me again, and I felt two sharp points prick the junction of my neck and shoulder. I cried out and thrashed in fierce protest, knowing that small pinch was just a warning of oncoming pain.

August’s teeth punctured my skin easily, shredding muscle and sinew until they hit bone. I howled in pain as I watched blood drip from the wound, a familiar crescent shape joining its brothers on my body. Searing heat shot through my neck with his first draw of thick plasma; the violent removal of blood causing an intense burn that I felt all the way down to my injured leg. August released my neck and I clapped a hand over the fresh wound.

I looked over my shoulder at him; his head was tilted down, mouth still full of my blood; the lack of a reflection behind him unsettling to my senses. August opened his wicked maw slowly, dark scarlet trickling from his lips onto the junction where my hips met his, run through by his sword. He looked up at me with a nasty grin, bloodstained fangs curdling my stomach. I closed my eyes and turned away as he swiped a hand through the mess. His fingers penetrated my core alongside his cock, deaf to my sobbing objections.

“You’d better open your eyes, pet… This needy little cunt is dripping, I’d hate for you to miss it.”

August emphasized his sick joke by grasping my hair, shoving my head to the floor, forcing me to look once more into the polished glass. My desperate wails for mercy were all that kept me grounded as I watched him thrust, my battered hole be stretched beyond capacity. Nothing but empty space plundered my core, crimson air bruising the very place within me that only just last night had been treated with such tenderness and care. Not last night. His slick fingers found my mouth and violated it effortlessly; no amount of pressure I could apply would break through his tough skin.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

August pulled me up and took to my neck with fervor, latching onto the broken sliver of skin like a leech. The more he drank, the weaker I became, until there was no resistance left within me. I could see the color drain from my bloody face, I could see black slowly creep into my vision, but I was powerless to stop it. August was in charge, he held my entire existence in his hands, and he intended to extinguish it. I closed my eyes again, accepting my fate.

I was going to die.

One of my favorite places to visit is a small outdoor cafe, very near the coffee shop where I met Amber. Mmmm. Amber. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of that tantalizing woman.

She lasted so much longer than all the others, you know. I was able to feed off of her nearly three full months as she hung there in my basement, until the last drop of her tantalizing nectar was finally extracted. She smelled of carraway and saffron, tasted of sweet mulled wine, and with the rich, heady, piquancy of her fertile womb seasoning each sinew, every inch of her opulent flesh begged to be consumed. I must admit, I should have dispatched of her sooner, but fascination overtook my curious mind as her own was consumed by insanity.

First it was freedom she asked for, and then death. Sometimes she would beg to speak to her mother one last time. But by the end, she only asked for one thing.

“Please,” she would whisper, “Please… Cover the mirrors. Just cover the mirrors.”

She asked so nicely, but how on earth could I hide such beauty? Her tears were just as rare, you see. They hold a beauty unmatched by any of the others that hang on my walls. I’ve never seen such a fear pattern like hers; it is more exquisite than the dawn of a misty spring day in the countryside, more beautiful than a woman at the height of euphoria. And they way they sparkled against her skin, lustrous tracks that wound down her temples and through her hair, glinting in the mirrors with each slow rotation of her inverted body... well, it was as if I was living among the stars. Adding her ashes to my garden was such a shame.

I sat at that little cafe, eyes closed, viewing the world through my enhanced scent. Each drop of bitter coffee, the pollen of a nearby bee, the oil in the bike chains of two clumsy humans as they rolled past; each note and fragrance alerting me to its owner. A familiar scent reached my nose and I turned my head sharply, focusing on it.

Carraway… Saffron.

I smiled softly, opening my eyes to greet the woman that now sat at my table. The honey irises that had intrigued me all those months ago met mine and I chuckled low.

“Amber.”

Read on AO3.

[moldisgoodforyou]

no tattoos

wordcount: 1.7k

warnings: drunk sophie, hints of nsfw talk, etc

______

Rafe picked up Sophie’s facetime call to be greeted by his excited girlfriend and her talking conversationally in Spanish, albeit a little stilted as her drunk brain tried translating back and forth.

“Sophie -”

“Estoy bebiendo, hemos encontrado este vino por la sangria -” 

He laughed, shaking his head. “English, baby, please. Por favor.” 

“Oh! Fuck, sorry. I’m not sober.” She immediately switched back, bringing a nearly empty cup to her lips as she took him back into her room to momentarily escape the loud party. 

“I can tell. What’s up, just saying hi?” 

“Yeah!” She shut the door behind her and lifted up her shirt a little. ”Baby! Baby, look.” She angled the camera toward her leg, keeping it on selfie mode and hopped on one foot trying to show it correctly.

Rafe held back a smile. “Flip the camera, Soph.”

“No, no, I got it, look.” The camera finally focused in on the purple pen outlining the eventual tattoo, the initials R.C. done in her terrible drunken scrawl. (Her handwriting was pretty poor normally, but her drunk handwriting was much worse.) It was right above her hipbone and at least five inches tall, not at all what she would typically go for with a first tattoo.

He choked back a laugh, eyes wide in disbelief. “Oh my fucking god.”

She grinned and turned the camera back to her face. “What do you think?”

“That’s not - Sophie, you didn’t -” he fumbled with his words, feeling a weird mix of horror and also being turned on that she’d even consider tattooing his initials onto her forever, even if she was drunk.

“No, no, I’m next.” She nearly tripped as she walked back into the kitchen, showing a group of her friends crowded around a table, one of them giving stick and poke tattoos with a practiced ease. The phone was set down and abandoned for a few minutes, but he could hear Sophie accepting another shot with a giggle, her words taking on a pronounced slur.

Rafe waited patiently, straining a little to listen to the conversation.

“Were you talking to your boyfriend?”

“Wait, the one that gave you the ring?”

Sophie laughed and he could picture her grin. “Yeah, I was talking to Rafe. I’m gonna get his initials.” She pulled up her shirt a little to show off the sloppy outline and the girls squealed, both equally as drunk as her. “Oh my god, you can’t.”

“Why not!” Sophie exclaimed.

“What if you break up?”

“Oh, we won’t.” She replied, self-assured. He grinned at that.

“So do you think you’ll marry him?”

There was a brief silence and more giggles and Rafe desperately wished he could see her face. Unbeknownst to him, she nodded with a grin then picked the phone back up, her face tinged pink. 

“Hi! I forgot we were talking!” She took the phone back to her room to talk to him again. Sophie had a tendency of being spacey when she was drunk, often wandering off or just ending a conversation mid-sentence when she couldn’t remember the rest.

Rafe shook his head, trying his best not to laugh. “Sophie. Angel. Listen to me, very carefully, okay?”

She furrowed her brow. “Yes?”

“You cannot get that tattoo.”

She pouted, running her thumb over the ink and smearing it a little. “Why not?”

“Because, Soph. You’re hammered -”

“Am not! I can do a handstand, look, watch -”

“No no no, Soph, just listen to me, please -” he laughed, snapping to try and get her focus as she went to set the phone down and show off (he was a little concerned, especially because he wasn’t sure she could do a handstand sober). “Sophie Flint! Hey. Hey. Pay attention and listen. No tattoos.”

“You don’t like it.” She frowned, lip wobbling, and Rafe could feel the tears coming on. He paused, part endeared and part exasperated. “It’s - it’s not that, I just -”

“No, you hate it and you’re going to break up with me because you think I’m a bad artist and I could never open my own tattoo shop.” She sighed dramatically, a few stray tears spilling down her cheeks. 

“Jesus, what did you drink?” He muttered to himself, shaking his head. “I’m not breaking up with you, baby.” He couldn’t help but laugh, utterly confused. “Has this been some long standing dream I’ve never heard of?”

“You’re laughing at me!” She cried out, rubbing the heels of her hands hard against her eyes. “I’m a great artist.”

“Oh my god.” Rafe muttered, grinning. “Yes, you are. Hey, how about you wait, and - um -”

He grabbed a piece of paper from his desk and held it up. “Look, I’ll draw you the tattoo, but you have to wait until you get it in the mail. So you can copy it right.” He pretended to write his initials onto the paper, knowing he had zero intention of sending it to her.

“Oh. You mean it?” She sniffled, her tears long forgotten.

“I mean it. Nothing to cry over, baby.”

She nodded, swiping the back of her hand over her eyes to get rid of her tears. “You promise to send it? So I can have you with me forever?”

He swore he melted at that statement alone. “That’s why you wanted it?”

“Yeah. And ‘cause I miss you.” She paused. “I miss your dick too, but I’m not gonna get that tattooed on me.”

He laughed loudly at that, shaking his head. “I think that’s a solid plan. No tattoos tonight, okay?” 

“I’ll wait until you come out and we can both get each other’s. Oh!” Her face lit up and it was almost painful for him that she was so far away when she was in one of his favorite moods. “Yeah, Soph?” 

“You could get my signature, on your letters! The S and the halo!” 

He paused, thinking. “That’s not too bad.” 

“No, it’d be perfect. I want it over your heart. So everyone knows you’re mine.” She declared, tracing her idea over her own heart to demonstrate. 

“Okay. I’ll think about it. Go back to your party, angel, go have fun.” He urged, feeling better now that he’d talked her down from the tattoo ledge. 

“No, I miss you, I wanna talk.” She flopped down onto her bed and propped her phone up, then wrapped her arms around her pillow. “Last night one of my roommates brought some guy home from the bar and it’s not fair. You should be here so I don’t have to get off on my own.”

Rafe grinned, shaking his head. “You’re trouble.” 

“Am not.” She protested, then grinned. “Unless you want me to be. Then I can be trouble.”

“Keep your voice down, Soph.” He admonished, knowing she had a tendency of being loud when she was drunk. “Go drink some water for me.” 

“No. You know what’s bullshit?” She fished around in her nightstand drawer, looking for something. 

“What?” 

“Ah!” She held up a small drawstring bag. “My vibrator died last week -”

“Jesus Christ, woman -” 

“- and I can’t find a replacement anywhere online. The thing won’t charge here, I think I electrocuted it. Useless.” She tossed the bag across the bed, scowling. 

He was clearly strained, rubbing his temples. “Can we go back? Since when have you had a vibrator?” 

“Since, like, sophomore year.” 

“And I didn’t know about this, why?” 

She shrugged. “You never asked and I think I can probably count on my fingers how many times we had sex in my room last semester. What was I supposed to do, reach over and whip it out when we were fucking?” 

He laughed at her brash words and dropped his head in his hands, shifting in his seat. “You’re going to be the death of me, I swear.” 

Sophie waved her hand, ignoring his struggle. “Rafe, listen to me. That picture you posted with Colin, in the swim shorts, you’re holding the beer?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’ve literally never wanted to get down on my knees more.” 

He about choked, eyes going wide. “You can’t just say things like that without a warning, angel.” 

“I’m serious -”

“I’m sure you are.” He laughed, trying his best to ignore her tank top slipping off her shoulder and the way she licked her lips. 

“And when you come visit and we travel, I want to have sex in every country. Just so we can say we did.” She declared. 

“We’re only going to be in three, Soph. Including Spain.” He countered, attempting to switch the conversation for his own sake. 

She yawned, stretching, and her shirt slipped a little lower. “Okay, so we’ll just have to travel more together later. Fuck, I miss you.” 

“You too, baby.” He heard her name being yelled out in the background and laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Do you need to go?” 

“Prob’ly. More shots, you know how it goes.” She dragged herself up out of bed and glanced down at her shirt, sighing dramatically. “I gotta change, don’t I?” 

“No, you look great. Go have fun, I love you.” 

“No, no, I gotta change.” She insisted, pulling off her shirt with no hesitation and Rafe sucked in a breath, watching her hunt around through her laundry basket of clean clothes waiting to be folded. “You’re teasing.” 

“I’m not teasing, I have a bra.” She snapped the strap for emphasis. 

“You are teasing. I can see your underwear when you bend over, your skirt is short.” He laughed when she turned a little red and tugged it down. “You’re lying.” 

“I’m not. They’re pink with little red hearts on them.” He grinned. “Adorable.” 

“I’m not going to waste my good underwear when you’re not here.” She defended, then found the shirt she wanted. It was one of his from intramurals, with Cameron written out on the back. He held back a smirk when she tugged it on and it went to her thighs, her skirt barely peeking out under the hem. “Is this better?” 

“Yeah, you look beautiful.” He smiled. “Go back to your party.” Rafe paused, adding, “Tell Mateo I said hi.” 

“That’s weird, but alright.” She shrugged. “You be good, okay?” 

“I don’t think you’re the one that should be telling me that.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Have fun. If you go out, text me when you’re home again.” 

“Deal.” She blew him a kiss before waving and hanging up. 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal @thecuthoney

[davidpastrsnack]

three times brady stayed quiet, one time he didn’t - brady tkachuk

a/n: i have such a soft spot for brady and this is the result. some really soft friends to lovers, but i also left the possibility for a smuttier part 2 if you guys are interested. i hope you enjoy (especially my fellow brady girls) and please let me know what you think!

word count: 5618

one 

After just barely getting through your final assignments of the last grueling week of school, it was finally time for the best part of the year: summer with the Tkachuks. Your dad grew up with Keith outside of Boston, the two maintaining a close relationship despite the distance that kept them apart for so long. For as long as you could remember, you and your siblings had spent the majority of the summer months with them, either on the lakes of Missouri or the oceans of Cape Cod. 

The busy hum of voices and speakers was all you heard, your tired body dragging through the airport, iced coffee in hand hoping it would give you even just another ounce of energy. You finally reached your gate, sitting down on the cool leather seat to wait for your boarding call. 

Your siblings were already in St. Louis, having finished school before you, and you were the last one to arrive before the commencing weekend of the summer. You knew you were in for a wild ride if the Snapchat stories of your older brother and Matthew getting up to no good were any indication.  

Just as you adjusted your headphones and felt your eyelids flutter shut, your phone buzzed, pulling you from your daze. 

Brady: I got held up here for another day, but should be there tomorrow

Brady: Don’t miss me too much 

You rolled your eyes at the screen, laughing as you saw his words and your brain automatically translated them into his voice. You considered all of the Tkachuks to be like family,  but Brady was different, he always had been. Since day one he was constantly looking out for you, even more so than Matthew and your brother. He always had an eye on you, that eye becoming more and more threatening to everyone else as he grew into his now 6’4”, 200lbs frame. 

Don’t worry, I’ll have Matthew to keep me company :)

You smiled as you typed out your response, throwing back exactly what he had dished out. You couldn’t deny that your relationship had become more flirtatious over the recent years, but you always assumed it was just the teasing nature of the Tkachuk household. If he was going to chirp you, you were going to chirp right back. But the banter had always flowed seamlessly, both of you knowing the other so well. You weren’t always clear on the motivation behind some of his comments, but it didn’t hurt to have a little fun with him. 

You finally boarded the plane, your flight not taking long before you were stepping out in the thick Missouri air. To say you were exhausted was an understatement, your eyes barely staying open as you searched for the black Audi you knew would be arriving any minutes. Just a few moments later you saw the luxury sedan turn the corner, a brown mop of curls sitting behind the wheel. 

“There she is,” Matthew yelled, pulling you in for a hug after stepping out of the front seat. 

“Hi Matthew,” you hummed, “Thanks for getting me.”

“Of course, Y/N, anything for my future sister-in-law,” he teased, that cocky smirk on full display while he grabbed your suitcase. 

You didn’t even acknowledge his comment, moving right along to get in the car and ask him how his season was. You were far from a stranger to his jokes, but you were not in the mood today and he seemed to pick up on it. So he gave it up for the ride, instead catching up on how you were doing otherwise since he had last seen you. All jokes aside, Matthew truly cared for you like family, especially considering he was dead serious about you eventually being his sister-in-law. 

After stopping for food on the way, you finally arrived at the house, Matthew pulling into the lit driveway as you took off your seatbelt. Chantal was waiting by the front door, immediately giving you a tight hug when you walked in. She was basically your second mother, always taking care of you as if you were one of her own. 

“Y/N! How are you, sweetie?” she exclaimed, urging you to follow her into the kitchen. 

“I’m good,” you responded while sitting down at the counter next to Matthew. 

“She’s exhausted mom,” Matthew deadpanned before you could continue. 

You rolled your eyes at his words, a smile growing on your lips as you quickly fell back into the comfort of this home. 

“I’m okay, really,” you assured Chantal. 

“Oh honey, come on,” she grabbed your backpack and gestured for you to follow her upstairs. “All of the guestrooms are full right now with Matthew’s friends but they’re leaving tonight. Just go ahead into Brady’s room, I’m sure he told you he’s still in Ottawa until tomorrow.”

You nodded, “Yeah, he did.”

She led you down the hall, as if you didn’t know exactly where you were going, and opened the door to his room. The same hockey memorabilia was scattered across the walls and the closet was slightly open, the clothes he left here during the season poking out. 

“Just relax in here, sweetie. The sheets are clean and there are towels in the bathroom. I’ll check in with you in a little bit, okay?”

“Thank you so much,” you smiled, pulling her in for another hug before she headed back downstairs.  

No matter how much time you had spent in this room, something about being in there without Brady felt wrong. But the exhaustion of the travel day and the past week didn’t let you think about it too much, instead telling you to go take a shower and change into fresh clothes. You didn’t mean for it to happen, but the second you laid across the bed you were down for the count. 

-----

When Brady opened his door after arriving home the next morning, his jaw nearly hit the floor. Chantal told him that you were in there, but there was no preparing himself for the sight in front of him. You were still fast asleep, but the covers were mostly thrown off your body. He smiled to himself as he remembered that you always get too hot while you sleep. The oversized t-shirt you were wearing was bunched at your waist, your tiny sleep shorts riding up your hips giving him the perfect view of your ass. Your head was nuzzled into his pillow, your hands resting in front of you as if you should be holding someone and your lips pouted as you slept. He had seen you asleep countless times before, but something about you being in his bed waiting for him like this was taking his breath away today. He thought about what it would be like if things were different. He could slide under the covers behind you, slip his rough hands around the soft skin of your waist, kiss your collarbone and neck as you giggled in his grasp, moving one of his hands lower and lower until-

“Fuck,” he mumbled, losing grip of his phone as he was distracted by his awe of you, the metal slipping out of his hand and falling against the hardwood floor. He scrambled to grab it without dropping his bags or waking you up. But it was too late, your sleeping frame stirred at the sudden noise, lifting your head to see what it was. 

“Brady?” you questioned, your voice laced with sleep and your eyes squinting as they adjusted to the morning light pouring through the windows. 

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry I just- mom told me you were in here,” he spoke, afraid it looked like he had just been staring at you, which of course he had been. 

“Don’t be sorry Brades, it’s your room,” you laughed as you sat up, adjusting your shirt when you realized how exposed you were. 

He laughed too, trying to shake off whatever awkwardness had infected him this morning and not let his eyes trail down your frame. 

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come give me a hug?” you grinned. 

Brady shook his head smiling as he made his way towards you, sitting on the edge of the mattress and pulling you in. His body relaxed as you wrapped yourself around him, your touch and scent overwhelming his senses. 

You could feel the tension leaving his shoulders as your hands traced the curls at the base of his neck, “You okay?” you whispered. 

He pulled back at your words, piercing blue eyes meeting yours. “I’m fine,” he paused, wondering if he should come clean about everything right now. But he decided it wasn’t worth freaking you out on day one of the summer, “I just missed you, that’s all.”

A soft smile crept on your lips, hearing him say that he missed you as much as you missed him warming your heart. 

“Come on, I’m hungry,” you said as you grabbed his hand, a playful scoff leaving his mouth as he trailed behind you towards the stairs, the energy between the two of you starting to return to normal. 

two

After everyone had finally arrived and settled in, it was time for the first house party of the season. The mere thought of this moment had given you the motivation to finish your exams, so it went without saying that you could not be more excited. Keith and Chantal were out of town for the weekend, putting Matthew in charge of making sure everyone stayed safe. You were finishing getting ready in one of the guest rooms, which you had almost moved into for the summer after the one night in Brady’s. You went for a simple outfit, a white top with jeans and sneakers before heading downstairs to join the growing crowd. 

You were surrounded by faces as soon as you made your way down, some familiar and some not. Your eyes scanned the room for your friends, knowing your close friend Emily had already arrived. You finally found her standing in one of the corners and you turned to go meet them. 

“Long time no see,” you beamed when you arrived at their circle, the girls jumping to hug you as they saw you for the first time since last August. It was great to catch up with everyone, but you quickly realized that you forgot to get a drink. 

“Em, I’m gonna go grab a drink,” you spoke to which she nodded. 

“I’ll come with,” she urged, reaching for your hand as you both walked towards the kitchen. 

“So you look hot tonight,” she grinned, speaking in your ear so you could hear over the music. “I bet he finally makes his move later.”

“Who?” you challenged, but she didn’t need to say another word for you to know who she was talking about. 

“Y/N, please just save it,” Emily rolled her eyes, “Look, he’s already drooling over you,” she gestured towards where Brady was sitting around a table with Matthew and some of their old friends from hockey. She was right, he was looking right at you, waving when you made eye contact. You gave a small wave back before quickly turning your body away from him to face Emily. 

“He always watches me at parties,” you reasoned. 

“Yeah, because he’s in love with you,” she scoffed, pouring two drinks into red solo cups. 

“Because he’s a good guy, Emily,” you rebutted before taking a far too large sip of whatever she made. 

Meanwhile, across the room, Brady was facing the same kind of comments from his friends. As soon as he saw you cross the room with Emily he couldn’t peel his eyes away. You were practically glowing, your smile wide as the stress from the school year finally seemed to disappear from your mind. 

“Really Tkachuk?” he heard from next to him, his head snapping away from you to look at the voice. 

“What?” he questioned, his challenge laced with attitude. 

“Y/N? Still?” his friend Jack responded. 

Brady just shook his head in annoyance. He didn’t have the energy for this conversation tonight. 

“As long as the sky is blue, Brady will be falling at the feet of Y/N,” Matthew chimed in, a smirk gracing his lips as he hid behind his solo cup. 

Brady maintained his silence, hoping they would get bored and move on, but not so fast. 

“So you aren’t hitting it?”

He thought he was mad before, but nothing compared to the pure anger Brady felt at this comment. It was Nick, a kid he had never liked through all the years they played together in St. Louis. He was fuming, Matthew swore he could see smoke coming out of his ears as he waited for his brother's response, getting ready to step in if necessary. 

“Are you fucking kidding me, Nick?” Brady started, turning his body towards him and sitting up straight. “Am I hitting it? You’re talking about my childhood best friend, show some fucking respect.”

Nick looked stunned, his eyes wide as Brady glared at him. “Dude, I-,”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, moving to stand up so he towered over him. “You wanna know why no girl will ever come within ten feet of you? It’s because of shit like this, Nick. You’re a complete asshole and you don’t deserve a thing from any woman,” he scolded. 

By this point, Brady had drawn the attention of many, nearly all of the guests staring at the commotion, including you. 

Your face dropped as you saw him yelling, concern written all over your face as your brows furrowed in his direction. He finally seemed to calm down, his eyes looking defeated as they locked with yours. With one more look at Nick, he shook his head in disgust before walking towards the back of the house, the door slamming shut behind him. 

The room was nearly silent, everyone looking at each other to see if they knew what just happened. 

“Everything’s fine guys,” Matthew urged, the party resuming at his words. Your eyes met his and before you could even make it over to ask what that was he was gesturing towards the door for you to follow Brady. 

You nodded, discarding your drink on the counter and rushing to him. You slowly opened the backdoor, searching for his blond curls. You quickly found him alone on the patio, sitting on the outdoor couch with his head thrown back against the cushion, and his eyes closed. 

“Brady?” you whispered.

His eyes shot open at your voice, “Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath. Even though he knew it was impossible, part of him was hoping you didn’t see that. 

You didn’t say anything but rather moved towards him, stepping over his legs so you could sit next to him. He stayed silent, just swinging his arm around your shoulders and tugging you into his frame. You sighed as your head rested against his chest, waiting for him to talk when he was ready. 

After almost ten minutes, Brady finally spoke, “Nick is an asshole,” he muttered. 

You couldn’t help but let out a small giggle at his words, lifting your head to look at him, but he was still staring straight ahead. He didn’t know if he could keep it together if his eyes met yours. 

“Brady,” you muttered, “What happened?”

“He just said something I didn’t like.”

“Come on, Brades,” you pleaded, hoping he would finally give in and tell you what happened. 

But instead, he shook his head, “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” he snapped, instantly regretting his reaction when he felt your body flinch at his tone. He sighed, letting out a breath it felt like he had been holding for hours, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just-”

“It’s okay,” you whispered. You had no idea what was going on with him, but regardless, it was clear that he needed you. You laid your head back down on his shoulder, smiling to yourself as you felt him press a kiss to the top of your hair. 

three 

It had felt like forever since you had been on a proper date, the college lifestyle not always being conducive to it. But now here you were, getting ready to go out to dinner with the guy next door, Tommy. The two of you had been friendly for years, getting to know him more and more with each summer you spent with the Tkachuks. You definitely were surprised when he asked you out, but you didn’t see the harm in taking him up on his offer. 

And to be completely honest, part of you was getting frustrated at your situation with Brady. It was a cycle that started over each summer. You entered June denying that there was even a hint of anything more than friendship, but by July you were sucked right back under his spell, until August came and you were ripped apart from each other yet again. Clearly nothing was different about this year, so it was time you tried to move on and enjoy your summer in, well, other ways. 

You slipped into a dress, casual but still cute, and tied your white sneakers. You walked over to your window to see both Matthew and Brady’s cars sitting in the driveway. Great, you thought. This would be much more painless if they weren’t home, but of course, the world was not on your side. You did one last hair and makeup check before grabbing your bag and heading down the stairs, feigning total confidence as you grew closer to the boys. 

They were laying across the couch playing video games, both of their eyes darting straight to you as you tried to sneak out the front door. 

“It’s rude not to say goodbye,” you heard Matthew yell from behind you. 

“Fuck,” you silently mouthed, turning to move into the living room where they sat. 

“Sorry, I didn’t see you guys there!” you lied through your teeth. 

Matthew’s face scrunched up at your excuse, knowing there was no possible way you didn’t see them. 

“Where are you going?” Brady asked, his voice much softer than his brothers, almost like he knew what he was about to hear. 

“Um, I’m going to dinner with Tommy,” you said, trailing off at the end as the awkwardness set in the room. 

No matter how much you tried to deny it, you saw the way Brady’s face fell at your words. The guilt suddenly hit you like a truck, but then again it wasn’t like he was doing anything to change the status of your relationship. 

“Tommy?” Matthew questioned, his brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah,” you stalled, “I don’t know, he asked me and I said yes.”

“Interesting,” he muttered, looking at his younger brother who was pretending to be enthralled in the game. 

“Alright well, I’ll see you guys later,” you said, standing as you waited for Brady’s response, but it never came. 

Matthew sensed the obvious tension, doing whatever he could to break it, “Have fun Y/N, but not too much,” he teased. 

You rolled your eyes, finally moving to open the door, not at all minding that it slammed behind you. 

As soon as you were out the door, Matthew pulled the controller out of Brady’s hand. He couldn’t watch this anymore. 

“What the fuck, Matt?” he shouted, his emotions high after watching you leave. 

“No, I should be asking you that,” he threw back. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Brady sighed, running his hands over his face before holding his heavy head in his palms. He didn’t know what he was doing. For so many years he was terrified of telling you how he felt. If you didn’t reciprocate his feelings, he didn’t know if your friendship could ever recover and he was not taking that risk. But this year it was all too much, you were perfect for each other and everyone around you knew it too. How could he blame you for trying to find someone else when he couldn’t even muster up the courage to tell you the truth?

“I don’t know, Matt,” he started, his words muffled by his hands, tears prickling the back of his eyes. 

Despite teasing him about you for so long, Matthew’s heart broke as he saw his brother in so much distress over this. 

“Just tell her. I promise you it will work out,” he encouraged, placing a comforting hand on Brady’s shoulder. “Anyone with eyes can tell that you two are made for each other. It’s gross, actually.”

Brady let out a laugh at Matthew’s chirp, finally picking his head up, “But now I have Tommy to worry about.”

Matthew scoffed, laughing as he spoke, “Yeah, because Y/N really seems like the type to throw away her entire relationship with you over one date with Tommy, of all people.”

-----

Your night was going well, but you just couldn’t shake the look on Brady’s face from your mind; he was hurt. 

Tommy was sweet, making you laugh throughout dinner, but you knew you had no intention of seeing him, like this, again. After leaving the restaurant, he suggested you got ice cream and walked around the city, to which you agreed. You felt bad for leading him on, but part of you was dreading arriving back to the house. You were sitting on a bench taking in the view of the city and talking about plans for the year when you felt him shift his body closer to yours. His intentions were clear, and your heart dropped at the realization that you were going to have to let him down much earlier than anticipated. 

Just as you were trying to find the right words to tell him, he placed his hand high on your thigh and he leaned in to kiss you. You immediately flinched, pulling your face far away from his.

“Tommy, I- I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

A dark chuckle came out of his mouth and you could feel the energy change, the air growing thick with tension. 

“Seriously?”

His much larger frame than yours suddenly became quite intimidating as he leaned over you, clearly not taking the rejection well. 

“I’m sorry,” you continued, “I just don’t think this is going to happen.”

“Unbelievable,” he shook his head at you, your body pushing back into the bench in an attempt to get as far away from him as possible. “This is about Tkachuk, isn’t it? I should have known you would only be interested in the fame and money,” he mumbled with another laugh. 

His words slapped you across the face, your eyes burning as you felt the tears try to push their way out. In all the years you had known him, you never had the slightest idea that Tommy had such a cruel side to him. 

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” you rebutted, “Get away from me, Tommy.”

“No problem, darling,” he smiled, standing up and walking away, leaving you stranded on the street downtown. 

Your head fell into your hands, the cold evening breeze riding under your dress. Your mind instantly started listing all the reasons why this was your fault, but deep down you knew it wasn’t. After sitting there in defeat for a few moments, you finally pulled out your phone, dialing the only number that ever mattered. 

It seemed like hours later when you finally saw the black SUV pull up on the street in front of you. Before you could even stand up, Brady was running out of the car towards you. Your emotions got the best of you once he was by your side, your body collapsing into his as the tears fell. 

“What the hell did he do?” he questioned while rocking you back and forth in his arms. 

You couldn’t find the words to answer. 

“Y/N, you’re freezing,” he spoke as he felt your cool skin against his, “Come on,” he urged, grasping your hand to guide you to the car. 

Once you were inside the warm car, he reached into the back seat to find a sweatshirt, handing you the soft material. 

“Thank you,” you whisper, scared your voice would betray you as you slipped the fabric over your head, the scent of his cologne comforting you right away. 

“I’m gonna kill him,” Brady hissed, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel. 

“No, you’re not Brady,” you warned, “I had a good night until I didn’t. We just had different ideas of how it was going to end,” you scoffed, a sarcastic laugh slipping through your lips. 

Brady shook his head, pausing to glance over at you while he was stopped at a light. You were resting against the cool glass, his sweatshirt pooling around your hips, the fabric of your dress peeking from beneath it. The light finally turned, your face now illuminated in green and he only had one thought. 

He would never treat you like that. 

plus one

Despite his conversation with Matthew, Brady still had yet to say anything to you. You assured him time after time that you were okay after Tommy, but he didn’t want his confession to seem reactionary. You deserved more than that. 

The plan tonight was for everyone to go out to one of the hotspots in town, but you weren’t feeling it. Everything that happened the night before had you even more consumed with your thoughts about Brady, and you needed a night of just nothing. The voices from downstairs carried while the boys were getting ready to leave, their laughter making you smile as you walked into the kitchen. They were so wound up all year long and it was refreshing to see them truly relaxing. 

You drew their attention right away as you entered the room, their brows furrowed in confusion as they took in the sweats you were wearing. 

“Y/N!” one of them howled, “We’re going soon, hurry up!”

You laughed as you turned to face him, the voice belonging to Jack. 

“I’m not going Jack,” you explained, opening the fridge to look for something to satisfy your late-night craving. 

“But you have to come, you’re so fun,” he whined. 

“I promise I won’t be that fun tonight. Just go enjoy yourselves, I’ll be here waiting to make sure you all get back in the house alive,” you jested. 

“I’ll stay,” you heard from behind you. You didn’t even have to look to know who it was. 

You finally rotated your body, meeting his gaze right away. He looked good. His black jeans hugged his thighs perfect, the matching black t-shirt fitting around his biceps like a glove. He towered over your, those bright blue eyes piercing into yours. He was close enough for you to take in his cologne, the scent immediately clouding your senses. 

“I’m fine, Brady,” you reasoned, shaking yourself out of your daze, “Seriously, go.”

He didn’t speak right away, instead he gave you a knowing look. You gave him the same look right back, challenging him to go against you. 

“Matt,” he called, not breaking eye contact, “I’m gonna stay.”

You rolled your eyes at his stubbornness but you were just thankful that you had a reason to look away, praying that the heat you were feeling hadn’t made its way onto your cheeks. 

“Alright,” Matthew responded, not even bothering to question the two of you at this point. 

The boys flooded the front door, all yelling goodbye before they piled into the Ubers waiting outside. A heavy silence fell over the house, your body leaning against the kitchen counter as you waited for Brady to say something. 

“I’m just gonna change,” he spoke, gesturing to the staircase. “Put a movie on, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, your voice barely above a whisper. 

Just a few minutes later he returned, dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. You were laying across the couch, the movie already playing as he sat down next to you. 

“Cold?” he asked, already knowing that you were by the way you wrapped your arms around your middle. 

“A little,” you mumbled, smiling as he covered the two of you in a blanket, squeezing your frame as he pulled it closer to his own. 

You stayed like that for a while, your body resting nearly completely on top of his, your leg swung over his lap and your head nuzzled into his chest. Any tension that was there before seemed to have disappeared, both of you returning to your normal states. 

But just seconds later, the screen flashed to a bedroom, the two main characters in the middle of what could be referred to only as a passionate, graphic sex scene. You immediately felt Brady tense beneath you, your cheeks flushing bright red at his response. It took everything within you not to react in any other way, but it felt like your entire body was on fire, begging to be touched. The sounds of the woman’s moans echoed off the walls, her face contorting in pleasure as the man continued. There was no denying that the image triggered a throbbing pressure between your legs, your brain fighting your body’s instinct to grind against his thigh. 

Brady’s stomach dropped when he processed what was happening, the woman undressing on the screen making his mind wander to doing the same thing with you. He wanted to touch you like that, he wanted to make you scream his name like that, make you fall apart like that because no one knew you as well as he did. But his imagination was far too vivid, and he internally cursed himself as he felt his pants become tighter and tighter. 

This has to be the longest sex scene in the history of all film, you thought to yourself as it continued, seemingly never-ending. Your hand was growing sore from its position under your head, so you gently shifted your body in hopes of getting more comfortable, but what you got was something else entirely. 

Your breath hitched when you felt it, unable to disguise your reaction. You were situated over his lap, your lower thigh brushing against his crotch and you could feel just how hard he had become beneath you. You froze, not knowing what to do or say, if anything at all. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, preparing to apologize, afraid he had made you so uncomfortable that he couldn’t recover. 

You knew he was beyond embarrassed, but something inside you had been ignited and you couldn’t ignore it any longer. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you swung your hips over his, moving to straddle him while you grabbed his face, pulling it to yours. He tensed again in pure shock, but it didn’t take long for him to relax against you, his hands circling your waist as he pushed you back down into his lap. Your lips moved together in perfect synchrony, a small whimper slipping out from your mouth as he bit your bottom lip between his teeth. He groaned into you at the sound, his hands sliding lower so he could grind you into his length, in desperate need of hearing you more. You had one hand tugging at the nape of his neck, the blond curls feeling like silk between your fingers, while the other slipped underneath his shirt, running your cool fingertips across his flexing abs. 

You were both so lost in the moment, ready to rip each other's clothes off at any second when Brady finally pulled back. 

“Wait,” he gasped, running his large hands across your thighs as he gathered his thoughts. 

Your breathing was labored, trying to catch your breath as you took in the sight below you. His lips were pink and swollen, his cheeks had a bright red tinge, and his blues eyes were staring at you in awe. 

“What?” you questioned, insecurity suddenly flooding your mind, your body separating from his as you leaned away. 

“No no no,” he cooed, urging you to come back close to him. You obliged, your eyes scanning his face in hopes of deciphering what he was thinking. 

“I just- if we’re going to do this,” he gestured between your bodies, “We have to do... this,” he whispered as he looked up at you, what he meant perfectly clear to you. “I want you, but I want all of you.” 

You smiled at his words, the anxiety washing off his face as he saw your reaction. 

“Brady, I have wanted this for longer than I can even remember,” you beamed, your hands cupping his cheeks, thumbing running over the soft skin. “I want all of you, too.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

“Yeah,” you laughed. 

He pulled you back down to meet his lips, your teeth clashing as you both smiled into the kiss. 

“Well then,” he smirked, “If you don’t mind, I’m taking you upstairs.”

He wrapped his palms around your thighs, holding you as he stood up. You shrieked at the sudden movement, laughing as your legs circled his waist. He held you impossibly close to his body, terrified to let you go now that he had you.

“Please, Brady,” you whined against his skin, “Take me upstairs.” 

“Fuck,” he breathed out. 

That was all he needed to hear to rush up to his room, more than ready to show you exactly how much he had loved you since day one. 

part two here

[sincerelyasomebody]

Happy Go Lucky || Jose "Sad Eyes" Guzman

(GIF: @merakiaes)

A/N: Shoutout to @multiyfandomgirl40 and @firebenderwolf for making me do a taglist. I'm still in awe that people enjoy the fics I write. Be sure to check out their fics (or re-read them), you won't regret it! Grammatical errors are to be expected. Spanish Translations below, let me know if there are any errors. 

Characters/Pairing(s): Sad Eyes x Reader ☆ OCs (readers best friends)

Summary: Wine just brings out a different side of (Y/N). Not that her boyfriend is complaining. 

Warnings: fluff, language, references to smut, tipsy reader

Word Count: 1638

- ♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ -

The Mean Girls credits rolled onto the screen, so (Y/N) tossed the remote to Kyra as she got up and walked into the kitchen. Opening up the fridge, she looked through the selection Maelyse had brought with her. Unsure of what to get, Joy popped up beside her and grabbed the Merlot. (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders and decided to grab the rest of the snacks instead. 

Tomorrow, the tight knit group of friends would officially have a wife among them. They were all excited for the big day, especially the bride to be Maelyse. The past few months had all of them busy. However, through it all, they all remained level-headed and it solidified Mae's choice in choosing them to be her bridesmaids. Instead of going to celebrate her last night of being a fiancé out in the city, Mae decided on having a quiet night in. 

Each of them had their own rooms within the suite, but chose to all camp out in the living room for the night.

"How are you feeling?" (Y/N) asked Mae as she placed the snacks on the coffee table that had been pushed to the side. 

She smiled, "great." 

Joy shook her head, "and to think you getting married is because Scott sent a text to the wrong number.

"I wouldn't say it was wrong," Mae flashed her engagement ring, "after all he ended up with the right woman."

(Y/N) and Joy both awed, while Kyra scoffed. 

"Okay, enough of the cheesiness, y'all know I'm lactose intolerant," everyone laughed at her, "let's give a toast for wrong numbers." 

"To wrong numbers!"

They all raised their wine glasses, clinked them together and took a drink. When (Y/N) placed her glass down, she noticed a notification pop up on her screen. With the quick flash she smiled down at her screensaver. A photo of her and Jose sitting on a mat with a picnic basket and a bouquet of daffodils beside them. (Y/N) leaning back into his embrace and Jose wrapping his arms around her. 

He had set his phone up to "capture the moment", he had told her. (Y/N) didn't really suspect anything of it considering she loved a good photo op. She remembered that day so clearly, as it was when Jose officially asked her to be his girlfriend. Bringing the bouquet of daffodils to symbolise the new beginning for both of them. 

Kyra noticed (Y/N) staring at her phone and nudged her shoulder playfully, "is somebody missing their novio?" 

"Shut up," she replied.

Mae laughed, "he's coming tomorrow, right?" 

(Y/N) nodded, "yeah, he'll be there." 

She was happy that Jose would join her. It would be the first event they'd be attending as a couple – Santos parties and dinners with her family didn't really count. Plus she was extremely excited to see him dressed up.

Joy smiled and grabbed some Doritos to munch on, "Nana Julie is gonna be disappointed when she finds out you're in a relationship. She's been trying to set you up with Carlos for years."

"Accepting the ring pop in front of her was the beginning of her attempts of getting the two of you together," Mae piped up. 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, "we were seven." 

Kyra smirked, "my favourite part was when you found out he gave Vivian a ring pop the day before and told him you weren't a homewrecker," she laughed.

"That just showed how committed I was, even back then," she replied, "I kinda felt bad after I stuck the ring pop in his hair. He had to shave it all off 'cause Nana Julie ended up giving him a bald spot when she ripped it out." 

They continued to drink, eat and talk. Laughing at the memories they created with each other and cringing when they talked about their awkward teenage years. All of which they agreed they were happy they were no longer living through it.

On the other side of town, Jose was chilling in his apartment. He wasn't really doing anything, other than making sure his outfit for Mae's wedding was put away nicely. He had just come back from his mother's house 'cause he needed help ironing it. While she was ironing, she kept talking about how proud she was of him for finding (Y/N). He laughed when she began to hint at grandchildren. His response was if it happened, it happened. Although, he already knew that (Y/N) was the only woman he ever pictured having kids with. 

Closing his closet door, he moved from his bedroom into the hallway. His mind on (Y/N) and hoping she was having a blast with her girls. When he began dating her, her friends were a bit apprehensive due to his association with the Santos. However, when they realised he actually cared for (Y/N) they eased up. Now, whenever he saw them there wasn't any awkwardness. 

Before he reached the kitchen, he felt a vibration against his thigh. Confused, he pulled out his phone and saw (Y/N)'s contact name pop up. With a smile, he quickly answered, "Hola, querida." 

"Ooooh did you hear that girls? Did. You. Fucking. Hear. My. Man? I don't think you did. He spoke Spanish! Fuck he sounds so sexy –" was all Jose heard before a bunch of giggles muffled his girlfriend's voice. He couldn't help but chuckle, quickly figuring out that he was on speaker and (Y/N) was tipsy (if her slightly slurred rambling was anything to go by). A loud shushing noise was followed by more rambling, "– like… he's just so ‐‐ urg! He's a snack… no h-he's more than that he's breakfast… and lunch… and dinner. Yeah! Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Wait, no… uh, what's that place – buffet! He's. A. Fucking. Buffet! Yes, he is. And I'll gladly eat all day long." 

Jose smirked, "you're everything and more bebe." 

"Oh shit, I forgot I was on the phone," she giggled, "hey, baby! I love you!" She let out a heavy sigh, "I miss you! Can I see you? I wanna see you." 

Never being able to deny her of anything, he quickly ended their call and switched to FaceTime. He only waited for a few seconds before (Y/N)'s face popped up, practically covering the screen. Jose laughed as she grinned widely, before shuffling back allowing him to see her surrounded by her best friends. All of whom were wearing matching pink pajama sets, except for Maelyse whose set was white. They all waved, Jose nodding back at them. 

"Isn't he handsome?" (Y/N) glanced over her shoulder, "and he's mine." She sighed happily focusing back on the screen. "I love you!" 

He smiled, "I love you too, bebe." His eyes spotted some wine glasses in the background with snacks. "You seem to be having a great time." 

"The bestest time ever!" She cheered, the girls cheering alongside her. "We're getting wine drunk and eating all the snacks. But, I wanna see you," she pouted. 

"Don't make that face," he sighed, "you're seeing me now, bebe." 

"It's not the same… I want you here!" She huffed.

He raised an eyebrow, "(Y/N)." 

"Ooooh, you called me (Y/N)." Her eyes widened, "you must mean business," she giggled. "I like it when you say my name… especially when you're –" 

"Baby," this time his eyes widened.

The girls in the background fell over each other laughing, while (Y/N) looked at them confused. This made Joy laugh harder. Maelyse leaned over and whispered in her ear. (Y/N) bit her lip, causing Kyra to wrap her arms around her shoulders and scream about 'the baby not being as innocent as everyone thought'. Shaking her head, she turned back to the screen and shrugged her shoulders. 

"I meant when you're sleepy 'cause your voice gets even sexier," she explained, "but… yeah, when we're doing stuff too. I really like that part."

The way she said it so nonchalantly made Jose snort and shake his head. His girl was something else. The camera shifted to show off a pile of blankets and pillows, before revealing her nude painted toenails. He patiently waited until (Y/N)'s face came back on the screen and once it did, she was laying on a bed.

"I can't wait to see you all dressed up," she commented, "like – fuck, you're already the sexiest man. But… imagining you in a suit and tie is doing things to me." 

He smirked, "is that right?" 

Biting her lip, she nodded, "yeah… a whole lot of things," she glanced over her phone before back at the screen, "after the wedding is when the real fun starts." 

"I look forward to it." 

"You should 'cause I brought your favourite set with me, so I can wear it underneath my dress." 

"Baby, don't do that to me," he groaned.

"Sorry not sorry," she giggled.

They chatted a bit more until Mae called out for (Y/N) that it was time to say goodbye and get back to celebrating. At the same time Oso gestured towards Jose that he was needed. With a reluctant sigh from both of them, they smiled at each other. 

"Looks like we've both gotta go, querida," he told her, "but I'll see you tomorrow, okay? Do you need me to bring anything to the hotel?" 

"Can I have some (fast food) for breakfast?" 

He laughed, "of course baby, anything else?" 

She shook her head, "no that's it," she blew him a kiss, "I really gotta go now 'cause I can hear Mae calling my full name," she huffed, "I love you!"

"I love you too, baby." 

Once they hung up, they both had the same thought; morning couldn't come soon enough.

-♤ - ♡ - ◇ - ♧ - 

Spanish Translation(s): 

Novio - boyfriend

Hola, querida - hello, honey

Bebe - baby

----------

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[salty-fang]

Flowers

@daminette-december2019-2020

Marinette loved flowers. Everyone dear to her knew that. Obviously, she couldn’t always get flowers but if you needed a gift for her, flowers were the clear option.

Damian knew this, so every year, he’d buy her flowers and a gift on top. It’d always be a practical one like a roll of fabric or a jacket and mittens because of how easily she got sick. Her response always made his day, whether she’d try and return it to him, which he would never allow. Or, she would turn into a tomato on the spot. It was assuring yet amusing to say the least when he would check their commemorative photos and she would always have an exhausted yet flustered expression. No matter how much she whined, those were his favourite photos.

Damian had always been creative with the flowers he got. They had lovely scents, complemented her outfits or their colour signified something. Usually, he had gotten roses, Marinette’s favourite by far, that were yellow with petals that were tinged red. They always meant ‘we’re friends but I think I’m falling in love with you.’ That translated in Damian speak was, ‘you’re a reliable acquaintance but now you’re more tolerable’. If Marinette ever noticed his love, she didn’t comment. However, she was oblivious. Much like he was to his own feelings.

Damian knew when love was unrequited. At least, he thought he did. Marinette’s infatuation with Adrien had never been healthy yet she never realised. Even when it broke her heart to see Adrien fawn over other people of the human species, she’d still chase after him. Literally. And it was always up to him to pick up the pieces. Damian did it, knowing it would scar his heart deeper than each wound ran and yet, he was willing to endure the pain if it meant she was happy and smiling.

That had fuelled his competitive nature with Adrien. You see, Damian and Adrien were bitter rivals. They didn’t like each other; hell, Damian had destroyed him in an exhibition match when he first arrived. The day was still clear in his mind. Marinette had sided with Adrien and whilst he couldn’t pretend that that didn’t hurt, he fought with such fervour, such ferocity, that he forgot the pain. Momentarily. For days, he ignored Marinette. He let his phone go to voicemail, didn’t read her texts, brushed past her at school. He couldn’t speak to her. He couldn’t look at her and he knew he was being selfish but he needed some time.

It didn’t help his heart when he saw her face- tears in her eyes and a face like a lost puppy.

Although, he knew Adrien would deal with it. And deal with it he did. It shouldn’t have hurt to see Marinette in his arms, her eyes tinged red and her cheeks rouge. It really shouldn’t have. After all, everyone knew that Marinette was in love with Adrien. So, he really should have expected when they had their first kiss.

Or when they went on their first date.

Or when Marinette forgot about him. Forgot was a harsh verb but in the last two months, he’d only seen her twice. She had been too preoccupied with Adrien to notice her relationship with him was falling apart. The late 3am conversations stopped abruptly. There were no more flowers or elaborate gifts. He stuck to the bare minimum because he wanted -no- he needed to be selfish.

He needed time away from them. From her. It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel happy for her, that was far from what had happened but... was it selfish to love knowing it would never be returned? It was futile pondering over the ‘what ifs' but it was nice to let his mind wander. Longing never eased his predicament but it was a temporary relief.

One where he didn’t have to lock eyes with them and pretend that his shoes were more interesting. One where he wouldn’t have to walk in the opposite direction or take a longer route to avoid them. Or where he didn’t see the piteous glances and snide glares directed at him.

He wanted to feel content. Joyous that Marinette found someone that made her happy.

Which was why he needed to go back. Back to where everything made sense. Back to Gotham. He wasn’t important here anyway. Marinette wouldn’t miss him.

That was the first lie he told himself.

Hands stuffed in pockets and head low, he walked to school, knowing it would be the last time he would see it. He had been hoping to avoid anyone he knew but alas, the goddess of luck was against him. He could see Marinette sprinting towards him and as tempted as he was to run away, it just wasn’t worth the effort. Especially not today. So instead, he pulled himself farther into his hoodie, obscuring his face. His attempt to blend into the background had been foiled by the meddling girl that was Marinette. And that annoyed him.

This was the second lie he told himself.

Marinette had stuck to him like glue. The entire day, she was at his side. And the reason was bluntly obvious as to why that was. Adrien had been busy. Marinette wouldn’t tell anyone where he’d gone but it was pretty clear that he wasn’t at school. Damian was happy to have Marinette back but he would have preferred it under different circumstances. He didn’t want to act as an Adrien 2.0. He wanted Marinette to hang out with him because she wanted to see him. Not because her boyfriend wasn’t in.

Her actions had soured his mood and yet his heart ached for her. Today had probably meant nothing to her but it meant the world to him. It was an amazing way to go back home, carrying sweet memories of your best friend with you. The flight had been booked for tomorrow in the afternoon, giving him loads of time to pour his feelings into a letter for her. He needed the closure from his first love. Sure, he’d dated around, trying to find anything strong enough to drown his feelings. But they were never enough. Nothing ever was when she was around.

Which is why he had ordered a large bouquet of yellow roses. Yellow roses tinged red at the tips of the petals. If he was going to write her a letter, he needed to go back. Back to when he first fell. Fell completely in love.

The letter had come out better than he had expected. Short and precise yet he was oddly satisfied with how it turned out. The hardest part was how to get everything to Marinette without her responding. He already knew what her response would be. And he didn’t want to hear it. He didn’t want his heart to shatter. Not when it was already so broken. He knew that the best time to give it to her would be when she was asleep or working in the bakery which is why he went in the afternoon.

He loaded his luggage into a taxi-something so common that he would never have done before. Taking several deep breaths, he waited, watching his hand shake as he yanked open the door.

“Hey, Mrs Cheng.”

“Damian, what a lovely surprise. You must be here for Marinette?” A solemn nod was all the answer she needed. “Make your way upstairs. And call me Sabine.”

“Will do next time, Mrs Cheng.” He ran up the stairs, a small grin on his face as he knocked on her trapdoor. Giving it a few seconds, he knocked again before entering.

“I’ll just go.” He muttered, leaving the letter and bouquet on the stairwell. He turned on his heel, eyes shining as he tried desperately to compose himself. That was what Marinette had meant when she said that Adrien was “busy". They were too busy making out to notice his presence. Once again. He should have been used to it.

So, why did he feel like shit when he heard Marinette call after him? Or when he hopped into the taxi, knowing that she couldn’t catch up to him? Why did he feel like he was wrong? Like he was too clingy? He pushed her away. He grew too dependent on her being in his life. She could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t belong to him or anyone for that matter. If she was happy with Adrien, so be it.

It was his fault for being too slow.

Hisfaulthisfaulthisfaulthisfault.

The taxi was booked for the next two hours which gave him enough time to come to terms with everything. He’d finally see his family; he’d get to hold Titus and play with Alfred and feed Batcow. He’d be back on patrol for his vigilante duties and he would do a kick ass job at it. And there would be no more feelings. No more overwhelming emotions that had to be kept bottled up. No more feeling alone surrounded by people who didn’t understand him. But most of all, no more Marinette. And it hurt to think like that.

Marinette was relentless. That much he knew. So, he was expecting her to try and find him. Which is why he booked the flight at the most obscure airport. He locked eyes with her, seeing her dart towards him, letter in hand. She had still found him and as he watched her run, he felt his chest constrict. And not in the good way. Functioning purely on adrenaline, he ran, pushing her out of the way of the approaching car. He heard the desperate squeal of the tyres. The sound of the sirens.

Yet, the thing that was clearest to him was the guttural scream that ripped through Marinette’s throat.

And in that moment, he wanted to hold her hand, stroke her head, whisper comforting words to her. Anything that would help ease her sorrow. But all he could offer her was his shaking hand as he rubbed his finger against her knuckles.

“I want,” he coughed, spitting out the thick substance onto the ground. “I want you to forget about me. I’ll only cause you pain.”

That was his third and final lie before he was wheeled off into the back of an ambulance.

It took four hours for him to be pronounced dead.

It took a month for his funeral to happen.

It took a year for Marinette to stop blaming herself for his death.

It took her 70 years to forget about him.

Everyone dear to Marinette knew she hated flowers. The only ones she loved where the ones that Damian had given to her. And with her they remained, still upright as if someone had been trying to tell her that they were there.

There with her until she too died.