#I had to split the money with you because I'm the only person who is of age to get a job and trying to earn some

[voodoo-tofu]

Steve Harrington needed hearing aids.

He wasn't born needing them. In fact, he was just about as healthy as a young man in his social class could be. But numerous head injuries eventually led to gradually worsening hearing loss, leading him to needing mostly useless hearing aids.

His damage was so severe he actually needed cochlear implants but his parents kicked him out of their house and off of their insurance plan when he got caught kissing his teammate back in high school. With his minimum wage job and splitting rent with his roommate Robin, he currently did not make enough money for such a luxury.

So he did the next best thing: he learned ASL.

It was free, other than his time invested, and Robin was the one to suggest it. After all, she was already fluent in five languages and had been in band for twelve years. If anyone could teach herself and a hard of hearing person to sign, it was Robin Buckley.

The only bad part was, they were the only two who seemed to know the damn language, leaving Steve to strain to hear or read lips lest he get (mostly) silently yelled at by some deranged customer.

So when he spotted a guy around his age with long, dark curly hair and perfectly round black glasses with side shields, he knew he had to act.

He knew what it was like to have people gloss over the fact that you exist, or even berate you for it; so he took a page out of Robin's book.

He learned braille.

Sure, technically Steve could still speak to the boy, but wouldn't it be more special if he could read what Steve wanted to say?

So he practiced and practiced until he was happy, bringing the card to work where his crush appeared to be a regular.

As Steve sees him walk in, he knows today's the day.

⠓⠊ ⠊ ⠁⠍ ⠎⠞⠑⠧⠑ ⠎⠕⠗⠗⠽ ⠊⠋ ⠞⠓⠊⠎ ⠊⠎ ⠺⠑⠊⠗⠙ ⠃⠥⠞ ⠊ ⠚⠥⠎⠞ ⠺⠁⠝⠞⠑⠙ ⠞⠕ ⠎⠁⠽ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠁⠗⠑ ⠗⠑⠁⠇⠇⠽ ⠉⠥⠞⠑ ⠁⠝⠙ ⠊ ⠺⠕⠥⠇⠙ ⠇⠊⠅⠑ ⠞⠕ ⠁⠎⠅ ⠽⠕⠥ ⠕⠥⠞ ⠕⠝ ⠁ ⠙⠁⠞⠑

Hi I am Steve sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you are really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

Steve is giddy when he wanders over to the boy in dark clothes. He had on black jeans that are ripped at the knees, a Metallica band tee, a leather jacket, and a denim battle vest. He's perfect. He's hot.

Steve's footsteps must be louder than he expects because the object of his affection immediately turns in his direction.

"Hi," Steve greets as he presses the thick stock paper into his hands.

The boy angles his head down with a frown as he traces an index finger over the raised dots, before looking right at Steve behind those dark frames.

He takes them off, and Steve learns after so long that his eyes are brown.

"I'm sorry," his crush says, Steve recognizing those syllables easy enough, "But I can't read this. What is it you're trying to say?"

But now that response is too much, Steve can't keep up. All he knows is the card he worked so carefully punching little holes in with a special tool he had to buy was now being pushed back into his hands.

Steve doesn't try to answer, he just wants to get the hell away before his tears spill over, but a hand on his shoulder stops him in his tracks.

He tenses, squeezes his eyes shut and braces for impact, but when a familiar hit doesn't land on his face, he cautiously opens his teary eyes to find him staring right at Steve.

"Are you okay?" He asks, but Steve can't be quite sure if he's checking on him or asking if he's gay.

Steve's own frown appears on his face as he points to his ears.

"Can't hear too good."

His mouth drops open, rushing to spiel something Steve doesn't catch. He must realize this because he's taking Steve's card back from him now as he mimics writing something with raised eyebrows.

Steve nods his head, more confused that the guy he thought was blind seemed to be understanding him perfectly.

He fishes out the little pad of paper and pen he keeps with him for moments not quite like this, passing the two items over.

He scribbles for a moment before letting Steve read what he's written in big loopy letters.

Hi, I'm Eddie. Sorry, I can't read braille. What did you say?

Steve furrows his brows.

I thought you might know it. Aren't you blind?

Eddie shakes his head with a little smile.

The glasses? I have killer migraines. Never go anywhere without them.

Steve smacks himself in the face. He's been such a fool!

Eddie taps him to gain his attention once more before handing him the notepad and pen.

What did you say? I'd like to know :)

Steve worries his bottom lip.

Hi I'm Steve. Sorry if this is weird but I just wanted to say you're really cute and I would like to ask you out on a date

He's nervous as he hands it back, but Eddie's wide grin and eager nod does wonders to knock back those worries.

I thought you'd never ask, Steve.

[nectardaddy]

SEE ME LIKE I SEE YOU . . . yukimiya kenyu + reader

warnings/notes : gn reader, written in second person (you/yours), hurt/comfort, yukimiya backstory spoilers, in my head they're an older couple in this, blindness/visual impairment, unedited I'm sorry this came to me in a vision and I had to write it, use of the pet name “angel”

Yukimiya can't remember what you look like. 

Through years of shared glances, stolen moments, and graced presence, he can feel the image of you slip through his fingers like sand with every day that passes. At night, he stares at the ceiling, an inky blackness mingling with the very few shadows his eyes allow him to see, unable to fall asleep next to you. Whenever he thinks of you, he's met with the haunting picture of an undefined figure and fuzzy edges; you're indescribable as he gnashes and claws at his mind to remember just one thing. 

He knows what you look like underneath his finger tips. How there's lines beginning to take root on the corners of your mouth from smiling at him all these years, how your nose crinkles and you get goosebumps when his hands are cold, he knows your face gets hot when he gently traces over your features so he doesn't forget - but he has, and it makes him want to heave.

Yukimiya's sight is nearly nothing but shadows.

He leaves lights on, despite your protests for saving money on the electric bill, just to have a slice of normality. He's memorized the layout of the apartment, and every piece of furniture and knick knack there is so he doesn't run into them; although, his knees are still bruised regardless, because his memory is often skewed by two inches to the left. He knows what your shadow looks like; where your height lands next to the door frame, can tell what shoes you're wearing from the height difference if there's enough light to see, and knows what clothes you're wearing based on your silhouette alone.

It leaves a bitter taste in the back of his throat over the notion he doesn't remember you to a tee. 

The pictures he used to fawn over are now lost to time. Framed photos on shared walls collect dust, as he can't even remember what he truly looks like either. He can't remember the silly faces you made at him when you caught him staring, how you'd look at him in adoration despite the sweat dripping off of him from football, nor can he remember his favorite picture of the two of you that still remains his lock screen picture - it's him and an undefined blob, frayed edges, and inky blackness. 

“Kenyu?” Your voice is soft, gravelly from sleep, and holds a concern that makes his heart sink even further. You've realized he's still awake, staring up at nothing instead of sleeping. “Why’re you still up?”

There's a split second where he wants to spill his guts. To divulge all his sorrowful thoughts about the mourning of a person who still lays next to him. But the man only smiles gently, and lets out a small breath; he'd never tell how he truly felt about the loss of such a precious memory. Because to him, he'd lose you all together if he did. “Can't sleep.”

“Again?” He feels the bed dip down as you shift closer to him, now turning around to face him and your breath tickles his neck. There's a warmth on his chest that pulls him out of a state of shock; you're warm against him, and he's suddenly shot back to being a child again when his mother would console him. “What's that pretty head of yours thinking about at 3AM anyway?” 

He pauses as his fingertips find your cheek; he's gotten particularly good at finding you in the dark, as that's how he feels he lives his life most days. “A little bit of everything, I guess?” He follows with a half hearted laugh that stings when it hits your ears. “Go back to sleep, angel.” 

He hears you hum, and he closes his eyes. The man knows he's an awful liar, especially to you, and the hum always follows with a declaration of being caught. “How can I sleep knowing you're awake, racking your brain?” There's a certain sense of care to the question, despite the groggy tone, that makes his heart feel a little less war torn. 

“I miss seeing you.”

The words leave his lips a little too quickly, absentmindedly blurting out his own thoughts from lack of sleep and a downtrodden mind. And instantly he wants to take them back, to retract the words from the universe and forget they ever happened. But he hears another hum, and he feels his heart beat out of his chest. 

You know what he means when the words hit your ears, you're not stupid enough to tell him he sees you every day. All he wishes, if he had one chance, was to glance at you like he did the first time you met and fall in love with you all over again. But the cruel reality hits you in the chest, as you can't bring back his sight nor fully understand his disposition. 

“Then, see me.”

His hands are cold when you take them in your own, perpetually chilling you with every fleeting touch. There's a sliver of light in the room from the curtain that wasn't pulled far enough on the bedroom window, and it allows you to see his brows scrunch in confusion. He can't tell what you're doing, but trusts you all the same as you sit up. 

“What are you-?” But he's cut off when you give him a small tug, silently asking for him to sit up with you as well. He does, and you smile. 

He feels you press his own hands to your cheeks, feels your breath tickle his hands from the sudden inhale from the cold, and feels you smile, your lips pulling upward underneath the pads of his fingers. “Touch every part of me if you have to, but I want you to see me.” 

[devixncy]

Can I request a Thanos x reader AU where the X voters actually win and they leave early? But the main problem is that the reader was on the games to pay off debt so she can leave her shitty parter/fiancée/spouse but now she can’t because the money wasn’t enough to pay it all off. Fortunately, Thanos and the reader grew close during the games and he knew her reason for being there, and also knew the money wouldn’t be enough. So basically post games, he runs into her and they reconnect and he absolutely beats the shit out of the reader’s awful partner (because in Thanos’s mind, anyone who hurts the reader deserves hell)

If you couldn’t tell, I’m a sucker for protective Thanos who won’t hesitate to (literally) kill a bitch haha

a/n: anon i'm sorry this took me so long, i rewrote this 6 times. SIX. (i am never satisfied with my own work LOL)

✧ pairing: choi su-bong (thanos) x reader

✧ word count: 6.1k (i'm sorry.)

✧ content: fem!reader, swearing, mentions of abuse!!, mention of drugs, violence, ooc thanos/su-bong yet again (oops), au where X voters win, partner is gn bc it wasn't specified but also realized that thanos beats they ass so...

The first day was the hardest. The sterile feel of the dormitory, the looming silence, and the constant threat of death. Nothing could prepare you for the weight of it, the brutality of it all, how you were just merely a pawn in a sick game.

You had stood lined up with the others—strangers, all of you forced into a game of life or death. None of you could fathom what was to come. The sounds of the red light/green light game still echoed in your mind, the screams, the metallic scent of blood, the bodies falling one by one.

But there was one person you noticed, even in the chaos. The purple haired rapper that you had heard the other players talking about, Thanos. He wasn’t like the others—no frantic desperation in his eyes. You had seen him after player 196 was shot in front of him. How quickly his demeanor changed once he took a pill out of his necklace; how quick he was to put others lives at stake. He breezed through the game, like it was something fun instead of something twisted and terrifying. 

You had no intention of ever speaking to him–or anyone else for that matter, unless the games required it. You felt as though you couldn’t trust anyone. There was already a divide, the vote evenly splitting the remaining players. Unfortunately, you voted to stay. It wasn’t like you wanted to, no. There was not a drop of greed in your body unlike most of the players that voted the same as you. You were drowning in debt, obviously–but it was more than that. It was debt that wasn’t your fault, but was the fault of your shitty excuse of a partner. You needed that prize money to escape from them as well, get away from the awful card you’d been dealt. 

You found yourself sitting alone in the dormitory after the vote, exhausted and anxious. Your mind raced—how would you survive this? Your previous determination was slipping away, overtaken by thoughts of self-doubt. Even if you did escape with enough money, how would you hide it from your partner? If the games disbanded early and the X voters won, would it even be enough? And what if it wasn’t?

“You’re thinking too hard, señorita,” a low voice rumbled from behind you. 

You stiffened, jolted out of your thoughts. Turning, you were startled to find Thanos standing there, his frame casting a shadow over you. He looked at you with an expression that was unreadable, his pupils blown wide. 

“You know, thinking like that can get you killed.” he said, lowering himself onto the stairs next to you. He didn’t ask for permission, didn’t even wait for an answer. You weren’t sure what gave him the confidence, but you could only assume it was the drugs still running through his veins. 

You scoffed, looking straight ahead. “And what would you know? You’re clearly not thinking about much of anything but yourself right now.”

He barked out a laugh, making finger guns and pretending to shoot them. “That’s how you play the game, flower. Only focusing on yourself means you’ll live.”

“Okay, is there a reason you came over here? Can I help you with something?” You asked with an eye roll, not quite sure what he wanted from you. 

“Tell you what. You stick with me, and I can keep you safe. Come join the Thanos world,” He said with a hand movement, and you turned your head to stare at him with a questioning look.

“Didn’t you just say-”

He cut you off. “Forget what I said. I don’t even remember what I said,” He responded with a stupid grin, his high still in full effect. “Look,” he said as he pointed to the blue O patch on your chest. “We’re basically already on the same team anyway. Don’t you think it would make sense?” You pursed your lips as he blabbered on.

“We’re here for very different reasons.” you murmured, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Clearly not,” he snorted, his arrogance on full display. “But if you say so, señorita. If you change your mind, you know where to find me.” With a wink, he stood up and skipped off, presumably to go harass others with player 124. 

You shook your head to yourself. Why would you ever need him? 

—

The next day, during the second game, you were ashamed to have to walk up to Thanos. You felt like a dog with its tail between its legs, dragging your feet. In all fairness, you didn’t think you would need to team up so soon. And unfortunately–Thanos was the only player you had spoken to so far.

As you approached, he immediately noticed you. Turning his attention towards you, he grinned. 

“Señorita! Did you change your mind? Couldn’t resist the charm of the legend Thanos?” He gestured to himself. You internally gagged, wanting to turn around and walk away right then and there. 

“Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m only doing this because I have to.” You grumbled, while he and player 124 snickered.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. C’mon, you won’t regret it.” He threw an arm around your shoulder, and you shrugged it off. You ended up sitting with your group that was made up of Thanos, Nam-gyu, Min-su and Se-mi. 

You began to open up a little as you sat and waited for your group's turn, conversation about nothing important flowing easily (more so with the sober ones of the group). Either way, it was a welcome distraction from the gunfire and bloodshed happening around you as entire groups were gunned down. Your tense posture and slight flinching at the sounds didn’t go unnoticed by Thanos. As soon as he noticed, he put a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. I said I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?” He asked with a laugh, however, you caught something genuine in the tone of his voice. You looked at him and his large pupils, and as you did some of the tension released from your body. Maybe he really did mean it. 

Thankfully, your group had breezed through the six legged pentathlon. You were terrified–and being chained directly to Thanos didn’t help, considering how reckless he was. To your surprise, however, his presence was comforting. He cheered you on during your turn, giving you the confidence you needed to help advance your team. 

Then came the next vote. You voted to stay yet again, as difficult as it was. The prize money still wasn’t enough to justify switching your vote. Thanos made himself the center of the chaos as per usual, egging on the O voters and only helping to increase the tension between both sides. It was almost unbearable to watch. 

Meal time was next, and it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy your hunger. You’d been behind Thanos in line, watching as he threw his arms up in exasperation as he saw what they were offering. Once you stepped forward, you figured out why. It was a lousy piece of bread and a carton of milk. You accepted the food with a sigh, mumbling a quiet ‘thank you’ to the guards and turning on your heel. You walked past Thanos and the rest of your group, hearing him call out to you with one of his dumb pet names. Ignoring it, you went and sat by yourself to have some peace and quiet, wanting to be alone with your thoughts. 

Unfortunately, the universe did not have your back because minutes later, you felt a presence sit down next to you. You could see the flash of purple in your peripheral vision, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Can I help you, Thanos?” You questioned, taking a bite out of your bread. He was tapping his foot in an aggravating fashion, causing you to shoot your arm out and grab his leg. “Please stop doing that.”

“Ooo, I didn’t think we were moving that fast, señorita,” he wiggled his eyebrows. “I don’t mind, don’t worry. In fact, we could-”

You immediately put your finger up to his lips to stop him from talking. “You do not want to finish that sentence. I am not in the mood.” 

“Of course you’re not. Do you hate jokes and having fun?” he let out an exaggerated sigh, gulping down his milk. You didn’t respond, taking another bite of your food. 

“I’m kidding, relax,” He said as he noticed your silence. “Anyway, question for ya.” You didn’t respond, but motioned for him to continue. “Haven’t gotten a name from you yet. I can only come up with so many nicknames, you know?”

“That wasn’t a question,” you stated matter of factly. 

“Tch. Okay smartass.” He said, and you couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across your face. His eyes lit up at the sight, and you could tell he was about to make some dumb comment. 

“It’s (Y/N).” You said before anything could leave his mouth. He was silent for a moment. 

“Hm,” he hummed, looking right at you. “Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” His voice was filled with nothing but sincerity, causing you to look at him with burning cheeks. “Aww, she’s blushing!” 

And he effectively ruined the moment. “Do you do this to every girl you meet?” You tilted your head questioningly. 

“No. Only the pretty ones.” He snickered, and this time you genuinely couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. You huffed, finally finishing your meal. Taking notice of the fact that Thanos somehow hadn’t yet, you raised an eyebrow. You watched as he broke a piece of his bread off, holding it out to you and gesturing for you to take it. Vehemently, you shook your head. “Come on, (Y/N),” he tested your name, waving the food in front of your face. “You need it more than I do.”

“Uh, no actually. You shouldn’t be high on an empty stomach, you eat it. I’m not taking your share.” You stated, genuinely not wanting to take it. They barely fed you all as it was, not nearly enough to be sustainable. He shrugged, popping it into his mouth with no hesitation. 

“If you say so.” He mumbled with his mouth full, causing you to scrunch your nose. 

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, your bond with the egotistical rapper was quickly growing. Never in a million years did you think he of all people would be the person you’d become the closest with. To be honest, it wasn’t like you really had a choice. He didn’t leave you alone. But you were starting to look forward to his presence—it was the only form of comfort and familiarity you had in this place. 

That same night, you sat in your bunk with your knees pulled up to your chest after lights out. The faint glow of the piggy bank was the only thing illuminating the dark room. It allowed your eyes to wander around without being too obvious, although most players were long asleep. You, however, were wide awake. That would only be prolonged when a certain someone decided to come invade your personal space. 

You almost didn’t register how your mattress dipped below the weight of another person, your unfocused gaze and scrambled thoughts making you oblivious. Your head shot up, and your body quickly relaxed once you recognized the figure on the end of your bunk. 

“Relax,” Thanos whispered as if you weren’t surrounded by people who could easily take you out. “Just me again.”

“Shouldn’t you be asleep? Thought the pills would have knocked you out.” You cringed as the words left your mouth, not even trying to come off as rude. He chose to ignore it, though. 

“Could ask you the same thing. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” He asked as you shrugged. 

“Can’t sleep.” You said simply, looking at him in the golden glow of the pig. 

“I noticed. That’s why I came over here,” he said as he made himself comfortable on your bunk, sitting with his legs crossed. You mirrored his movements as sitting with your knees up was becoming slightly uncomfortable. 

The two of you sat and conversed for longer than you expected. You knew it wasn’t ideal—both of you should be getting enough rest for the third game. He was very easy to talk to, you had to admit. 

“So, how did someone like you end up in a place like this, señorita?” He asked, and you had been dreading that question. You could easily lie and come up with something other than your situation, because in all honesty Thanos absolutely seemed like the gullible type. However, you had come to trust him in the short amount of time you’d known him and didn’t feel that it was necessary to lie. You fidgeted with the sleeves of your jacket, taking in a shaky breath.

“I’ve raked up a lot of debt. I know that goes for everybody here, obviously. But it wasn’t my fault,” You paused, your eyes averting to stare at the mattress. “My partner…after we started dating, they got me to move in with them. Everything was going well until then. After I moved in, they had me quit my job. Promised to “take care of me”, said I wouldn’t have to worry about working. Then they drained my account, took everything I worked for. Blew through it, left both of us with nothing,” You said as you rolled up your sleeves, showing off the fading and now yellow bruises that littered your arms. “This has been my life. Escape always felt impossible, until I was handed that card in the subway station,” You let out a humourless laugh, feeling tears sting the back of your eyes. “And that’s why I’ve been voting to stay. So I can pay off my debt, and get the hell out of there. But easier said than done, I suppose.”

Thanos was silent. The deafening silence that made you uneasy, and you almost regretted saying anything at all. You kept your eyes averted, honestly in disbelief that you had confided in him so easily. But then, you heard him slowly exhale. His hands reached over, rings brushing against your skin as he tugged your sleeves back down. His touch was gentle, hands steady—he wasn’t high. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his finger guiding your chin up so that you were looking at him. “Trust me when I say that we’re getting you out of here. And then you’re getting out of there. On my life, a hand will not be laid on you again.”

You looked at him in shock. His expression was something unreadable—but you could see the anger that lingered underneath. Never in a million years did you expect something so sincere to come out of his mouth, not from the least serious player in the games. It honestly left you feeling confused. Did he really care about you that much? You hadn’t even known each other long. 

“That’s the plan, I hope,” you said with a humorless laugh. Your stomach churned at the thought of failure, of not being able to leave. As Thanos opened his mouth to speak, you held your hand up to stop him. Talking about your situation only made the mood bleak, and you didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

“What about you, Thanos? How’d you end up here?” You asked with a tilt of your head. He paused, dropping his hand from your chin. Thankfully, he recognized that you were redirecting the conversation. He chuckled as if the answer should be obvious.

“Blew all of my money on drugs, clubbing, clothes, shoes, you name it. Spent it on whatever I wanted. When I went through all of my money, I went to loan sharks. Started coming after me because I couldn’t pay it back. Simple as that, sweetheart,” He hesitated then, as if there were more to it. And there was. “The recruiter found me on a bridge. I was about to just end it all before he got there. So now here I am. Guess you could say he saved my life, in a way.”

Your lips parted in shock at his confession, not expecting vulnerability from him like that. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry Thanos-”

“Su-bong,” he interrupted, causing you to pause mid sentence. “My real name is Su-bong. Hearing you say Thanos just sounds strange.”

Slowly, you nodded. “If you say so, Su-bong.” You spoke unsurely, his name sounding foreign on your tongue. 

“That’s more like it,” he said with an encouraging grin. “I like the way my name sounds coming out of your mouth much more than Thanos.” He winked, causing your cheeks to burn. You smacked his leg and he laughed, causing a nearby player to tell him to “shut the fuck up”.

That night, Su-bong had fallen asleep on your bunk. Neither of you meant for it to happen, however exhaustion had hit both of you hard seemingly out of nowhere. He actually had fallen asleep mid conversation; you had asked him a question and got nothing but snoring as a response. You didn’t have the heart to wake him up and kick him off, so you let him sleep at the end of your bunk. Shortly after he passed out, you followed suit, curled up at the head of your bed. If you were being honest with yourself, it was the safest you’d felt in a while. 

When you awoke the next morning, Su-bong was already up and gone. You did take notice of the blanket covering your body that wasn’t there when you had fallen asleep, though. The gesture was sweet, something you weren’t used to. It warmed your heart, but guilt started to creep in at the same time–even though it shouldn’t. 

“The third game will begin momentarily. All players, please get out of bed and get ready.” 

You sighed, swinging your legs over the side of your bunk and standing up along with all of the other players. Making your way into the center of the room and into the crowd, you immediately made your way towards the easily recognizable mess of purple hair. He was standing with Nam-gyu, surely doing something stupid, and as you got closer you could instantly recognize that they were high. Your smile faltered slightly, but you shook it off as you approached. If he needed it to get through the games, so be it. 

Su-bong noticed you immediately, a grin adorning his face. “Señorita! There you are!” 

You chuckled, falling into step with him as you headed towards the stairs to the game arena. “Good to see you too, Su-bong.” As his name left your mouth, Nam-gyu immediately threw a questioning look towards him. Su-bong noticed and threw his hand up, accidentally smacking Nam-gyu in the face with it. He slung his other arm around your shoulder, pulling you in closer. You weren’t entirely sure if it was affection or for his own benefit, considering his noticeably unsteady steps.

During the game–which ended up being mingle–had to be the most terrified you’d felt in your time there. This was a game where desperation reared its head, players shoving and ripping each other away to ensure their spot in a room. The entire time, much to your relief, Su-bong stuck with you. Your wrist was constantly in his grip so that he didn’t lose you. He almost had, during the final round. He chose you over Nam-gyu, dragging you towards a room with a speed you didn’t know was possible. Someone had grabbed the back of your tracksuit jacket before you got in the room, trying to rip you away from safety. Su-bong was extremely quick to react, even while high, and ripped the other player away from you with a strength you didn’t know he had. Besides that minor incident, the game had gone as good as it could’ve–although your tremors had yet to slow down. 

Upon heading back to the dormitory, you nervously waited for the vote to be cast yet again. Your hands shook, still slightly shaken up. Su-bong stayed by your side, his arm brushing against yours. There were only 100 players left, and the prize money was at 356,000,000 won. It was almost enough. Almost.

You placed your vote, yet again voting to stay. You stood on the O side, arms crossed across your chest. Watching as Su-bong skipped up to the booth and smashed his lips onto the O button, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He scampered over to you immediately, then changed direction and pushed his way towards the back. You paid no mind, feeling too much anxiety about the vote to pay attention. However, you could faintly hear him and Nam-gyu starting to harass Min-su into voting to play another game. To their dismay, he didn’t. Nam-gyu, who voted after him, was noticeably unhappy. You weren’t thrilled either at the thought of losing a vote, but you couldn’t blame him. 

Down to the final vote, you held your breath. The vote was currently tied. Deep down, part of you knew that this was it and you weren’t winning this. Accepting it was a different story. As player 001 walked up to the booth, your hands clenched into fists. Su-bong, who was next to you, took notice and grabbed one of your hands. He ran his thumb across the back of your hand.

“Don’t worry, señorita. We’re going to win this vote.” He said it with too much confidence. Time stood still as player 001 made it to the booth, pausing before he made his decision. The red X button illuminated, changing the vote from a tie. Immediately, cheers erupted from the X voters. It was decided. 

The sound of the final vote echoed in your ears, muffled and distant, like you were trapped underwater. The games were over. You were going home.

Your chest tightened. Your breath hitched. No. No, no, no—

You could hear the other players on your side reacting around you. But their voices barely registered. The moment the vote was cast, your body locked up, panic surging through your veins. 

This was supposed to be your way out, the only way you’d be able to pay all of your debt and get your own place to leave your partner. Now, you weren’t sure what you would do. 

Your hands curled into fists, nails biting into your palms as you stared blankly ahead. You had spent the past few days convincing yourself that you just had to survive. Just win. Just hold on long enough, and then you’d be free. Free from the debt. Free from the hands that grabbed too tightly, from the voice that spat venom at you whenever you spoke out of turn.

But you weren’t free. You were going back to them.

Your breathing grew shallow. Your vision blurred at the edges. The world felt too small, suffocating you as the reality of your situation settled in. You knew you were perhaps being irrational, not thinking clearly—but it was hard not to. 

A firm grip on your wrist yanked you back to the present. You flinched, expecting the worst, but when you looked up, it wasn’t them. It was Su-bong.

His grip was solid, grounding. “Breathe,” he murmured. 

You shook your head wildly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I-it’s not enough money, Su-bong. What am I supposed to do?” 

Something dark flickered in his gaze. His jaw tightened, and his fingers flexed around your wrist before slowly releasing you. 

“Don’t worry. I’m going to come find you, no matter what it takes.” He promised, but in the moment it felt empty. You couldn’t even respond, your thoughts racing as the dormitory became chaotic. The guards were saying something but you couldn’t even listen.

Suddenly, you could hear a hissing sound. Smoke began to spill out of all of the vents, quickly filling the dormitory. You brought your hands up and gripped Su-bong’s wrists, everything becoming hazy. The last thing you saw was his face, and the last thing you heard was his voice.

“You hear me? I will find my way to you.” Then everything went dark. 

—-

As you expected, life outside of the games hadn’t gotten any better. The games had been disbanded for almost a month now, and nothing had changed. You were miserable, still burdened by your remaining debt and toxic partner. 

They hadn’t let go of the fact that you had disappeared without a trace for three days, only to show up again in the dead of night. It was dangled above your head, used as a way to manipulate and guilt trip you. You felt lost, hopeless even.

Your mind was still plagued by Su-bong. You wondered how he was faring after being granted freedom. His promise to find you hadn’t come to fruition yet, but you still clung to it–it was the only thing keeping you going. But until then, you lived your life in misery.

You had convinced your partner to let you pick up a part time job at a local convenience store. It had taken a lot of convincing, because they were sure you were going to disappear again. But you pressed, telling them it was just to get some extra money, promising to get them whatever they wanted with it. In reality, you didn’t care about that. You wanted an escape, to be able to go somewhere where you weren’t constantly scrutinized. And thankfully, it worked. 

Late night shifts were your favorite. It was the only sliver of peace you had–where the streets were empty, where you could breathe, if only for a moment.

That’s where you were now, walking home from work, the cold biting at your skin. The chill didn’t bother you–in fact, it seemed to keep you grounded, stopping you from getting into your own head. The silence was welcome, nobody around to bother you. But that’s when you felt it.

A presence. 

It was subtle at first, something you could easily shrug off. Then, you heard footsteps. Directly behind you. 

Your breath caught, heart racing. You had to keep moving. Ducking into the nearest alley, you turned the corner almost too fast, nearly losing your footing. You didn’t dare to look back.  You weren’t sure who was behind you, but paranoia told you it was your partner. They had warned you. Told you they’d be watching. That if you ever even thought about running—

A hand closed around your wrist. You gasped, your fight or flight response kicking in. Before you could do anything, whether it be scream, fight or run–you were spun around.

Your mind took an extra second to catch up with your body, not registering who was in front of you. But when you caught a glimpse of purple hair, the chain around his neck, the ear piercing–your eyes widened. 

Su-bong.

The adrenaline left your body, your tense posture sagging with relief. You only stared at him, unable to form words, in disbelief that he was in front of you. But he spoke before you could. He lazily grinned at you, holding his arms out and gesturing to himself.

“I told you I’d find you.” He said, and hearing his voice set something off in your head. You wasted no time in throwing your arms around him. He reciprocated, his arms immediately snaking around you tightly. 

“Oh my god, you have no idea how happy I am to see you and hear your voice.” You admitted quietly, and he chuckled. After a moment he pulled back, holding your shoulders at arm's length. His eyes raked over your form, his smile slipping away as he took in your exhausted appearance. His smile disappeared further at the fact that you had tried to run, thinking he was someone more dangerous. 

“Did you think I was someone else?” He asked with a tilt of his head, and you swallowed hard. 

“Yeah..” you whispered, knowing there was no point in lying. He already knew your situation. 

He frowned, watching as you nervously played with the ends of your sleeves. Anger bubbled in his chest, easily interpreting what was going on. “You’re still there, aren’t you?” He murmured. Slowly, you nodded.

“...I’m still there, Su-bong,” you admitted, slightly ashamed. “I’m still not financially stable enough to get out and get my own place. Not with the debt I have, too.” You could feel his grip tighten at your words. Thankfully, he didn’t press, but his next words made you stiffen.

“Let me walk you home. That’s where you were going, right?” 

“Yes,” you said, hesitating as you chose your next words. “You can walk me home. But that’s it.” You warned, knowing he had some kind of underlying intention. He nodded, the grin returning to his face. 

“That’s all I need, señorita,” he slung an arm around your shoulder. “Such a pretty flower shouldn’t have to walk home by herself in the dark, anyway.” He began to walk, pulling you along with him. You rolled your eyes at his comment, but smiled–that was such a Thanos thing to say. 

Your walk back to your apartment was peaceful. But as soon as you reached the building, the atmosphere shifted. You turned to Thanos, and he looked down at you. You offered a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Thank you,” you murmured, and he nodded. He took his phone out of his back pocket, pulling up a new contact before handing the device to you. 

“Put your number in. Please,” He said as you took his phone from him. You typed your number in, and then to lighten the mood, you set your contact name as Player 243. Handing it back, you watched him shake his head. “You’re something else.”

“I try,” you said with a laugh. Then, you took a step back from him, signaling you were about to make your way to your apartment. “Goodbye, Su-bong.” You said, a warning edge to your voice. He grabbed your hand before you could get too far, lifting it up and pressing a kiss to the back of it. Your heart skipped a beat, face heating up. 

“See you later, (Y/N).” He said, letting go of your hand. He gestured for you to ascend the stairs, and you did. You didn’t disappear until you made sure he turned his back to leave the complex.

Sighing in relief, you slowly made your way to your door. It wasn’t like you actually wanted him to leave–you just didn’t want more unnecessary problems. You wanted to be smart about this. Pulling out your keys, you fiddled to find the correct one. As you moved to put it in the lock, you paused. 

“Su-bong,” you whispered, your eye twitching. “What did I tell you?” Looking over your shoulder, you shot him a glare.

He had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking around and avoiding your gaze like he had no clue what you were talking about. You had to give it to him, though, he seemed to materialize out of thin air. For someone who was typically so loud, he knew how to move silently when he wanted to. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said as he finally met your eyes. His expression softened. “Come on. Did you really think I was gonna let you go in here alone? Especially with the way you acted earlier?”

You only rolled your eyes. “What exactly is your plan here?” You asked while pushing the door open slightly, signaling for him to be quiet. Unfortunately, the universe hated you. 

“Maybe beat some ass–I mean talk some sense–into someone.” Su-bong responded nonchalantly. But his voice was a little too loud. 

“Who the fuck is at the door?” A voice slurred from inside, causing your stomach to drop. You were so screwed. 

You barely had time to react before Thanos reached forward, pushing the door open wider with one hand.

Your partner stumbled out into the entryway, rubbing their eyes, blinking at the unfamiliar figure now standing in their doorway. Confusion twisted into irritation. Then into anger.

“Who the hell are you?” 

Su-bong didn’t answer. He just stared, gaze cold and unreadable. It was like a switch flipped, his chill demeanor disappearing in an instant. 

Your partner sneered, stepping closer to you. "You screwing around on me, huh? That what this is?" They turned their glare on you, their lip curling. “You brought him here, didn’t you? You really think some asshole off the street can save you—”

A loud crack echoed through the apartment. It happened so fast, you barely registered it. 

Su-bong’s fist connected with your partner’s jaw, sending them sprawling backward. They hit the floor with a thud, groaning.

It was like something took over him, rage consuming his whole body. Before your partner could recover, Su-bong was on top of him. 

“You fucked up. You think you’re tough, treating a defenseless girl like that?” Su-bong spoke calmly–but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. It was a warning. 

Your partner sneered, rolling their eyes. “I don’t know who you think you are, man. But stay the fuck out of it.” They tried to shove him off. Before you could even blink, Su-bong struck again. His fist connected with their face–a hit that knocked the arrogance straight out of them. He channeled his blinding anger into every hit laid into your partner. His fists quickly became bloodied. Each hit was filled with fury; he wasn’t just fighting, he was punishing. 

“You like keeping her scared, don’t you?” Su-bong snarled between punches, eyes dark. “Makes you feel powerful. Makes you feel big.” He let out a humorless laugh. “Pathetic.”

You watched with a hand over your mouth, torn between horror, relief and some dark sense of satisfaction. No one had ever stood up for you like this. But as you watched, you realized he had no intention of stopping–you had to intervene before he literally killed them. 

“Su-bong,” Your voice was quiet, but he heard you loud and clear as he paused. “Please.” You whispered, a plea to stop only because you were worried about him. You didn’t want this to get him in trouble. He exhaled slowly, but wasn’t done yet. He grabbed your partner’s collar, bringing their bloodied face closer to his.

In a low, chilling tone, he delivered an ultimatum. “If you ever come near her again, I promise that I will finish what I started. Are we clear?” They nodded frantically, and he slammed them back to the floor. Su-bong got to his feet, finally turning towards you. His eyes softened upon landing on your shocked form. “C’mon,” He started casually, wiping his hands on his pants. “Let’s go get your stuff and get out of here.” You nodded, trying to will your legs to move. 

After the events that had transpired, you ended up in Su-bong’s apartment. You brought as many of your belongings with you as you could, with the promise that you could stay with him for as long as necessary. While he helped you get settled into his guest room, you tried to come up with the right words. You hadn’t spoken about what had just happened, how he almost just killed for you. You stopped what you were doing, watching him for a moment. He sat on the bed, his long legs dangling off the edge. 

“Hey,” You called out, and he stopped whatever he was doing to look at you. “I never thanked you,” you said softly. “I don’t think I would’ve made it out of there without you.” 

He reached out and grabbed your arms, pulling you towards him so that you were standing between his legs. “You don’t have to thank me,” He murmured, cupping your face with his hands. “I was just doing the right thing. I would’ve never let you walk in there alone, you know that. You never deserved that. I just want to make sure you’re happy.” 

And you smiled, the first genuine smile you’d shown in weeks. He grinned, running his thumb across your cheek. “That smile looks good on you, señorita,” He whispered, standing up and placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Your cheeks burned, not used to being complimented after being degraded for so long. “You should get some rest, flower. If you need anything you know where to find me.” You nodded and he left the room, giving you some space. You sat down on the bed and smiled to yourself.

Your heart was full; for the first time in a very long time, you finally felt completely safe. You knew you weren’t alone anymore. 

[tanobatcher]

first kiss

wolffe x jedi fem reader summary: a night out with your friend reveals a curiosity you want to explore outside of your jedi commitments. warnings: nonchalant final boss wolffe and suggestive content a/n: in my head, this is a continuation of moonlight with some time skip obv ~~ but i'm not listing them together since they are completely separate scenarios without any reference to the other. it's kinda fun thinking about this one shot with that background context tho idk but i'm saying this from a writer's perspective since i love a good buildup in general. also i'm mourning my first kiss fr i wish it was him :( another note...i think i have a problem with cliffhangers but ig that's my style atp

79's is loud, dark, and busy. It's exactly like the kind of place you were advised to stay away from as a youngling growing up in the Temple. There are all sorts of enticing opportunities that might tip anyone's self-control over the edge, opening doors your duties keep locked out of reach. It's not a rulebook you follow, though. It's a code. One that cautions against addiction—whether the item of interest is alcohol, money, or something less tangible like the ecstasy of interpersonal connections.

Sex. In other words.

"Is it always like this?" You mutter, unsure where to rest your eyes without staring at the entangled bodies scattered around the bar. But the intimate proximity between every pair doesn't unsettle you as much as the fact that they're all attached to each other by the mouth in addition to all the other places where they're shamelessly grabbing each other. Their movements are lazy and drunken. Unsurprisingly, this is the most popular commodity found at 79's. The pretty women, all exotic and eager, always turn heads and stimulate competition among the men simply trying to ease their nights during this difficult war. You understand their innate desires, even if you're forbidden to feel them yourself.

"I didn't think you'd approve," comes a response. It's quiet, but you hear the "I told you so" in it.

Tearing your gaze away from a particular couple directly in your line of vision, you glance up at your remaining company—the only person who didn't split off from your group in search of something else. His eyes are sharp as they meet yours, but he looks tired. You know this because his posture is relaxed for once, not at its usual state of stiff attention. It's obvious he's also bored, which is ironic. This is the only place where someone like him can do whatever he wants. Or so you believe.

"Why not?" You reply, not stopping a defensive edge from seeping into your question.

The answer is clear to both of you despite being left unspoken. You're a Jedi. Just a couple of hours ago, you had to clarify the rumored myth circling across the Grand Army of the Republic that "Jedi can't have sex." They can, you said. We can. They just can't form attachments. They can't fall in love. They can't feel anything more than what they choose to do, which never fully made sense to you as a youngling. It still doesn't. And still, you abstain from anything that jeopardizes your honor and denies your code. Wolffe might not follow the same way of life as you, but he knows what it means to walk that fine line. It's only natural someone as committed as him does, really.

"It doesn't feel like you approve either," you continue when he seems to ignore you.

"I don't not approve."

You roll your eyes at this clear avoidance of your statement. "Well, believe it or not, you don't exactly appear as if you're having a good time."

"Yeah?" He exhales a little roughly and leans back against the wall with an expression even more bored than before, "What does that look like?"

While his figure seems to take up more space as this conversation progresses, yours shrinks and attempts to hide from his judgmental demeanor. Still, you point out, "You're completely sober."

"So are you," he says, eyeing you warily.

"I told you not to hold back on my accord."

Irritation flashes across his gaze, but it's so brief that the moment nearly slips from your fingers. You're more focused on him than you think, though, because you suddenly feel something warm and angry radiating from his spirit. But why? Which one of his nerves did you strike this time? That always seems to be the case with him, which also begs the question of why he's even here. With you.

"I don't want this," you vaguely gesture a hand between the two of you, "To be a thing. You can have fun tonight, you know. I heard that we won't be on Coruscant for very long."

He only seems to hear the first part of what you just said since he merely repeats, "A thing." The two words put together on his tongue sound a lot more menacing than you give him credit for. Cringing at yourself as subtly as possible, you try not to reveal that you're secretly questioning your ability to hold a proper conversation with him outside of your battles and briefings. Embarrassing yourself is the last thing you want to do, but maybe he's banking on it.

"I'm saying you don't need to babysit me. I'm fine," you brush off, feeling your face grow hot as your eyes dart around the room instead of looking at him.

He hasn't moved an inch—not even his gaze—as he replies, "This isn't babysitting."

In any other circumstance, his short and vague reciprocation wouldn't frustrate you like it is now. But you’re dizzy from the noise and flashing lights, while a tight knot burns an ache in your lower stomach. It's humiliating to think that such an unfamiliar yet normal environment is causing your body and mind so much discomfort. It's even more humiliating to admit this aloud, especially to someone as unbothered as your commander.

"So, what is it?" You unintentionally snap, "Because I don't know why either of us is just standing here while everyone else..."

Wolffe raises his eyebrows at you. "Then we'll leave."

Your head turns toward him with incredulity. "No, that's not what I meant. You can stay, if anything."

"So, you're leaving."

Sighing, you fold your arms over your chest and cast another glance around the room. "Is that what you want?"

You sense his surprise, which can't even be confirmed by the look on his face—only your intuition. You're forced to expose more of your own truths when he asks, "Does it matter?" instead of revealing whatever he's feeling for once in response to your questions.

"A little," you hear yourself telling him unabashedly, "I wouldn't want you to feel like you can't...do anything when I'm around."

He scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at this, not even bothering to respond with anything else. You don't miss the slight curve of his lips that indicates his amusement, which can only be intended toward how out of place you feel at the moment. Funny to him, maybe. You can barely hear yourself over the blaring music as you shake your head and mumble, “Never mind. I’m being childish.”

“I’m sure things are different at the Temple.”

“Depends. Some Jedi know their way around.”

The breath he releases almost sounds like a chuckle, deep and close to your ear. “Guess you missed out on that.”

A joke, you think to yourself as you turn your body fully toward him. He’s already facing you, shadowed and distant beneath this lighting. Still, you see him clearly. Everyone else in the room is hardly recognizable, passing through your peripheral in blurry figures and faces while he remains still and centered before you. The music suddenly feels quieter, and the conversations seem to die down. You can hear yourself better when you tell him, “I’m trying not to…anymore. Miss out, I mean.”

Waiting for his reaction, you sink your teeth into your tongue just to feel that momentary sting without drawing blood. It’s a silly confession, but it’s the honest reason why you’re here tonight. You want to know what it’s like to feel that high everyone whispers about. Even if you forget all about it by the time the sun rises. Even if just for a second that sensation enters your bones and spills into your blood. Even if you regret it, too. The way you see it now, you would rather live with that than not know at all.

Wolffe looks displeased when he replies, “This is the worst possible place you could have chosen if you wanted to fuck someone tonight.”

Embarrassed again, you frown and say, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You couldn’t have meant it any other way.”

“There’s more than just sex. Don’t you know that?”

He startles you when he crosses his arms over his chest and leans closer just enough to make your heart race for reasons you’re afraid to unpack.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he murmurs.

The softness of his tone sends a chill down your spine, contrasting the furious warmth in your face. It doesn’t take much to understand the implications of his words. But you’re not sure why they leave a bad taste in your mouth. It almost feels strange to imagine him in any of the situations occurring around the bar—hookups, flirtatious conversations, and much more when someone offers to go to the back or even leave this place. And just like that, when it’s all over, it’s never to be spoken about ever again. The art of detachment, which is somehow very aligned with the Jedi way.

“So, you do know how to have a good time,” you lean forward as well, “I thought you might have been just as lost as me.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“It’s not a disappointment. I’m also not surprised.”

He pauses with a guarded expression before carefully responding, “No?”

You shake your head. “No. You’re attractive. They’re attractive. It makes sense.”

He flicks his gaze to your outstretched hand as you vaguely gesture to some of the available women circling the bar before looking back at you. It doesn’t seem to bother him that you just made an extremely unprofessional statement just now, but you feel a tighter pull between the energy that flows from his spirit to yours. The reaction is there—he simply does a good job of hiding it. Unable to ignore this, you take a step closer to him and smile.

“I wouldn’t kiss and tell either,” you lightly touch his arm with a few fingertips, “We don’t have to make it a big deal.”

That flare of anger from before returns as he grabs your wrist and pulls back. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“I do,” you disagree, “And I’d feel safer if it was you. We’re friends.”

He makes a face that almost has you believing he’s in pain for a moment, but he quickly regains his composure before you can ask.

“If you’re scared, then you shouldn’t be considering something like this at all,” he says coldly.

“I’m not scared. I trust you.”

He stares at you in disbelief and squeezes his fingers as if he’s trying to convince himself to let go. Before he can follow through, though, you step between his legs and clutch him by the forearms. This sudden movement brings your faces much closer together, and you can hear the ragged breath he takes once he realizes you have him cornered.

“Don’t do this.”

“You can say no.”

His eyes narrow as his jaw clenches. “Just for you to find someone else.”

You pause upon hearing the venom in his tone. “Does it matter?”

He holds your gaze, knowing you’ve taken his words from before. It’s another chance for him to admit anything he’s hiding, whether from you or even himself.

“It does,” he bites out, “If you’re going to be an idiot and not think this through.”

“I have thought it through. It doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“So, you jump in some bastard’s bed tonight, and the whole Republic finds out about it. What then?”

You wrinkle your nose at this hypothetical, which feels exaggerated and unnecessary to consider. “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

“I wouldn’t,” he glares at you, “But I’m also not offering that chance.”

“Because you don’t want…”

You don’t finish your sentence, realizing you sound more desperate as this conversation progresses. Snapping your mouth shut to process the rejection sinking in your stomach, you nod and begin to pull away from him. But he doesn’t let you. Studying his face with curiosity, it’s clear that he’s much angrier than before. The burning, hot irritation is simply climbing higher and higher the longer you stay near him like this. So vulnerable as if you’ve given yourself up to him. He’s not holding you by the wrist anymore but by the hips with both hands now, shifting your body closer and greedier.

“Let go, Wolffe.”

“You’re being naive.”

Averting your eyes from his, you look down where your frontside is nearly flush against his. “I don’t need a lecture.”

“What you don’t need is to sleep with someone just to feel better about yourself.”

“Isn’t that what everyone does?” You hesitate before pushing at his chest a bit, “What you do?”

When he doesn’t answer your question, you’re certain there’s no point in staying here any longer. You turn your head a bit to look around, but he seems to mistake this as an indication of your next destination—someone else. It’s unclear why he even cares, especially if he’s turning you down like this. That is, until you feel his hands travel across your upper body. His touch isn’t heavy at all, hardly burning holes through your clothes, which tells you he’s still trying to be careful. But the weight of this action is a lot more difficult to bear than the actual experience itself. He settles his palms across your waist, spreading his fingers out as if to cover as much surface as possible. It’s almost too gentle for someone like him.

Turning back to him, you nearly lose the breath you were just about to exhale. It gets stuck in your throat, constricting your insides into a whirlwind of squeezing nerves. This is the same Wolffe you’ve known for a couple of years now. The same Wolffe who’s never made any move to touch you if he doesn’t need to. The current look in his eyes is wildly different, though. It’s the reason for your pause as you try to recognize the hungry darkness threatening to swallow you whole. And maybe, if you push a little harder, it just might.

“You want me,” you whisper, “I can feel it.”

He closes his eyes. Opens them slowly. “Careful.”

But you’re already treading dangerously. Inhaling a deep breath, you let your body lean into his touch a little more. Closer. Even closer when he applies some pressure to his hands. He’s looking at your lips in anticipation of a kiss, which is becoming imminently unavoidable with the little distance that remains between your stolen breaths. Nervous, you steady yourself by bracing your hands against the solid plane of his chest and feel some vibrations when he finally speaks.

“I’m not kissing you just so you can prove your point.”

Your lips part as your breath hitches upon hearing how hoarse and desperate he sounds despite the indifference in his words. You almost have him where you want him. Time seems to slow as the room empties, but only in your imagination. All that occupies your consciousness is you and him in each other’s arms.

“Then kiss me because you want to.”

You hear a soft curse sound from his lips, and it’s almost sweet. It’s not rough and mean like the version of him you’re used to. The version of him you suspect you’ll still like, even after this whole situation becomes a forgotten memory. Maybe it won’t even make it to that point, because he still hasn’t kissed you. You pull your head back just a bit with the intention of saying something, but that only worsens his irritation. It also provokes the reaction you’ve been waiting for. There’s something impatient about the way his mouth claims yours, even though he’s the one who wasted all this time in the first place. Both of you are wondering the same thing, though. What took so long?

Your eyes flutter shut as he slows the kiss, letting it linger before pulling away. Still holding you close, he rests his forehead against yours while catching his breath in a few short exhales. You can see his heavy-lidded stare through your lashes when you open your eyes, also breathing deeply to savor the last of what’s already gone. But just as you accept this is over, he cups the back of your neck and leans in for more. And when he kisses you again, you know this time is the real him—the one that isn’t holding back anymore.

You gasp against his mouth when he pivots your bodies and pushes you into the wall that was just behind him. While you’re too far gone in his embrace to care if anyone sees you like this, he seems to remember your status outside of these walls. Covering your figure with his, he takes your surprise as an opportunity to kiss you deeper. His lips part yours wider with a low groan that wracks a shiver through your shoulders. He feels you tremble against him in that moment, caressing your jaw with the hand cupping your neck. His other arm holds you steady, gentle unlike the way he’s kissing you now.

It’s almost hard to keep up as everything intensifies. He’s still kissing you slowly, but it’s not lazy like the speed might suggest. Everything about the way his lips open and close over yours, sucking roughly when you sigh, speaks to his calculating nature. You wind your arms around his neck and drop your face to his chest when he nudges his thigh between your legs, applying just enough pressure to stimulate yet another foreign feeling you want more of.

“That feels…” you gasp softly as he slides his thigh deeper between your legs and kisses your neck, “…Good.”

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he groans into your skin.

You shake your head and tighten your arms around him, afraid he’ll walk away now when you finally have what you want. “I don’t care. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“To you.”

The response sounds bitter as it gets lost in another kiss you’re not sure who initiates. All you can feel is his mouth slipping over yours with barely any air to breathe between your kisses. He pulls back just to kiss you again—harder, angrier, and rougher as if to tell you something he can’t admit aloud. His hands are now clutching at your clothes, dragging slightly before pausing like a reminder of not to get carried away. You feel the feverish desperation beneath the fabric, though. You want to feel it even closer if it means feeling him closer.

“Wolffe,” you manage through another kiss.

“Mhm?”

“We can leave. Go somewhere else.”

He seems to consider it as he sucks on your neck just above your collarbone, but it isn’t until he pulls back and sees your face that reality sinks in. Your stomach drops when his expression blanches, growing cold and distant once again. The regret is clear as it writes itself all over his hard stare, one that you never expected to be so disappointed to see. Maybe if you hadn’t said anything, you wouldn’t have ruined a moment that never belonged to you in the first place.

“What’s wrong?” You ask quietly, even though you know the exact answer.

You. It’s you.

“This…was wrong,” he lets go of you completely and steps back, closer to the crowd that’s about to engulf him into disappearance, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You try to reach for him, but he’s already so far. “Wolffe, it doesn’t—“

“Stop,” he avoids your touch, “I can’t.”

Some wounds sting at his words, but they bleed when he leaves without sparing you another glance. It’s suddenly so noisy once again, suffocating you with shitty music and boring conversations you don’t want to overhear any longer. The air has grown stale, but you still taste him on your tongue as his figure joins the blur of everyone else in this loud, dark, and busy bar.

[lilmisshellfireswritingblog]

Play With Fire - Johnny Storm x fem!Reader

Authors Note: Well, since we have officially been introduced to MCU Johnny Storm, here's a little one shot I wrote a month ago because I am absolutely feral for Johnny Storm. We don't know much about how he's going to be portrayed so, I used my imagination. I hope you enjoy!

PS: Smut is not my forte so I hope it's...satisfactory.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, contains adult content, DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 18+, smut, lots of fire puns (I'm not sorry or maybe I am), lots of yapping

Pairings: Johnny Storm x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k+

The glimmering lights of the charity gala bathed the New York skyline in golden hues, casting long shadows on the sleek, chrome surfaces decorating the event. The décor was a striking blend of mid-century modern aesthetics—smooth, flowing lines, geometric shapes, and vibrant colors—reminiscent of a time when the future was just a few glamorous steps away and held a more optimistic approach. 

You didn’t want to be here but there you were, trapped in a sea of tuxedos and satin gowns, your father’s arm draped possessively over your shoulder like a shield. It had been his idea to bring you along, of course, a desperate attempt to put up a "family-first" front after the affair rumor hit the front pages of The New York Post a week ago.

You hated galas. You hated the small talk, the polite smiles, and the thinly veiled gossip that filled the air. You hated the way your father’s overbearing presence had turned the night into a performance, with you as the unwilling starlet.

“I’ll only be a minute,” your father whispered to you, his fingers tightening around your arm in that way that said, don’t move. “Keep a smile on your face. This is important. Our family needs this.”

You barely suppressed a groan, nodding stiffly before he was off, mingling with the city's elite. His eyes, always sharp, locked onto the wealthy faces around him, like a predator hunting for its next meal.

You took a deep breath, turning away from the throng of people, hoping for a moment of solitude. The jazz band played in the background, their smooth melodies swirling in the air. You found yourself in the back corner, near a large glass window overlooking the city.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into the room, a confident swagger to his stride. Johnny Storm, better known to the world as the Human Torch, was hard to miss. His sharp blue eyes gleamed, his blonde hair tousled just enough to look casually effortless. He was, of course, dressed to the nines—a sleek black suit that hugged his athletic frame and a white shirt that gleamed in the ambient evening lights.

You knew who he was. Everyone did. His exploits were plastered across every major newspaper and the tabloids couldn’t get enough of his charisma and charm. He was a man of fire, literally and figuratively, the kind of person who seemed born for attention.

There was something different about him tonight. No flames. No flashy heroics. Just Johnny, looking slightly out of place amidst the formality of the gala.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes when he caught sight of you and flashed a grin, as if he’d spotted an old friend. “Well, well,” he said with a teasing smirk, his voice warm with amusement. “What’s a beautiful woman like you hiding in the corner all by herself? You look like you could use some company.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Not really,” you replied, crossing your arms as you leaned against the glass. “I’d rather be anywhere but here, to be honest.”

Johnny’s grin faltered for a split second, then he chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. These things can be a pain. All the smiles and the handshakes and small talk.” He leaned against the wall next to you, hands in his pockets. “You’re not here for the free drinks, then?”

You shook your head. “My father dragged me here. He thinks it’ll fix... everything.” You waved vaguely toward the sea of tuxedos and gowns. “But you know how it is—people with money can’t stand to be seen as anything less than perfect.”

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his tone thoughtful, as he glanced around. “I get the pressure. I mean, being a public figure comes with a lot of... expectations.” He flashed a grin, a little wry. “You’d be surprised how many charity galas I’ve attended for reasons that had nothing to do with actual charity.”

You gave him a skeptical look. “You? I would’ve guessed you'd be more of a ‘save the day, destroy the bad guys’ type.”

Johnny laughed, his expression softening as he pushed off the wall and stepped a little closer. “That’s mostly me, but tonight… tonight I’m just Johnny. No fire. No superpowers. Just a guy who’s probably as uncomfortable as you are.” He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. “You know, I was thinking about ditching this whole thing and heading to a dive bar. Could be more fun. You in?”

Your lips twitched upward. “I’m supposed to be here for my father. This whole thing’s a mess.”

Johnny shrugged. “Tell you what then. When your father’s done playing the ‘perfect family’ game, I’ll swing by and whisk you away for some real fun. In the meantime, if you ever need a distraction, just holler for me, doll. I’m pretty good at getting people out of awkward situations.”

You met his gaze, amused and a little skeptical, but something about his laid-back confidence and easy charm made the idea tempting. "I'll keep that in mind," you said, your voice softer now.

Johnny’s eyes flickered over to the crowd for a moment, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re probably sick of being the center of attention,” he said quietly. “I get it. Sometimes you just need a break from all the... stuff.”

You gave a short, quiet laugh. “If only it were that easy.”

Johnny’s grin returned, this time a little softer, more genuine. “Well, if you need a superhero to make your night a little less superficial, you know where to find me.”

Before you could respond, he turned with a wink, slipping back into the crowd, disappearing into the sea of well-dressed faces.

You stayed where you were for a while longer, the sound of the gala and the distant jazz playing in the background. Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, was one of the last people you’d ever expect to feel any kind of kinship with, but for a few moments, he’d made you feel a little less trapped in the fake world your father had built around you.

And in a night full of forced smiles and shallow conversation, that small bit of genuine connection felt like a flicker of light in a sea of cold steel and polished chrome.

The gala was starting to wind down. The last glasses of champagne had been sipped, the tables cleared, and the final whispers of forced pleasantries echoed through the room. Yet, despite the event nearing its end, the energy hadn’t quite shifted. The jazz band had given way to a recorded track—a gritty, energetic tune that you instantly recognized.

"Play With Fire" by The Rolling Stones.

The heavy, seductive beat reverberated through the room, slinking through the air with a raw, untamed edge. It was unexpected. Unusual for a place that so carefully curated its atmosphere with smiles and good intentions. But there it was—one of the most rebellious songs of the time, now lacing the air, intoxicating and dangerous.

Somehow, as if it were fate, amidst the sea of tailored suits and glittering gowns, Johnny Storm appeared again, walking toward you like he had some kind of magnetic pull.

He flashed you a smile, his eyes gleaming under the cool, metallic lighting, his posture still effortless and relaxed despite the formality of the event. “Didn’t think they’d play this here,” he said, nodding toward the speakers, his voice amused. “I mean, talk about ruining the mood.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the deep growl of the guitar riff matching the beat of your heart. "Definitely not the kind of song you'd expect at a gala like this."

Johnny tilted his head slightly, the mischievous grin never leaving his face. “You know what? I’ve got an idea.” Without waiting for your response, he extended a hand toward you, a playful gleam in his eyes. “Dance with me.”

Your first instinct was to refuse. You weren’t in the mood for any more attention, and honestly, you didn’t dance. However, something about Johnny's easy confidence and charms, the casual way he dared you to step out of the perfectly controlled lines of this polished world, made you hesitate.

He wasn’t asking for anything extravagant, not some perfect ballroom spin or rehearsed routine. He was just... offering a moment.

For a heartbeat, you just stared at him. And then, as the chorus of “Play With Fire” blasted louder, you shrugged and took his hand. "Alright, Mr. Storm. Let’s see what you’ve got."

His grin spread even wider as he gently pulled you toward the center of the floor. The room seemed to narrow around you. Those who had been murmuring and sipping champagne suddenly halted as they took in the scene. 

But you didn’t care. Not now.

Johnny’s hand rested lightly on your waist, his other still holding yours as the two of you moved together. The pulse of the song matched your quickening heartbeat, and, for once, you didn’t mind the eyes on you.

The music seemed to speak to both of you, something unrestrained and reckless—something wild that had been suppressed by all the proper rules of society. Johnny’s movements were smooth, fluid, and effortless. He had the confidence of a man who knew exactly how to make the world bend to his will, and yet, somehow, his presence didn’t feel as overwhelming as you would assume.

You stepped in time with him, your own body moving with a freedom you hadn’t expected. The lyrics about temptation and fire seemed to mirror the electrifying pull between you. There was something present that was dangerous but exhilarating. Forbidden but impossible to resist.

You looked up at him, half in surprise, half in something else you couldn’t quite name. His eyes flickered back to you, almost searching, but not in a way that made you uncomfortable. No, it was more like he was giving you the space to decide just how far you'd go, how far you'd let this wild, reckless moment carry you.

“You know,” Johnny said as he guided you through a slow turn, his voice low, “they say if you play with fire, you’re bound to get burned.”

You raised an eyebrow, the edges of your lips curling upward. "You know what they say about fire, right?" you teased, spinning under his arm. "It can warm you up just as easily as it can scorch you."

He gave you a roguish wink, pulling you close again as the song picked up speed. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

The world around you seemed to fade away as the music built in intensity. The room, the gala, the whispers—everything was irrelevant in that moment. All that existed was the two of you moving in sync to the rhythm, bodies close, the heat of his touch igniting a spark in you that you hadn’t expected.

The song surged toward its climax, the pounding drums pushing the beat faster, wilder. Johnny’s hand slipped lower to the small of your back, pulling you flush against him, and the space between you vanished entirely. You could feel the heat of him. His body was a living furnace against yours, the friction of his energy igniting something within you, something that had always been held in check by the carefully constructed life you’d been forced to live.

You danced like you were both on the edge of a cliff, teetering on the line between control and surrender. Johnny’s laugh was infectious as he spun you one last time, a wild, unrestrained sound that made you realize how much you’d been holding back all night. He twirled you back into his arms, the song roaring in your ears as you laughed. 

The moment lingered there, suspended in time. A brief but intense escape from the world you’d known.

When the final notes of "Play With Fire" echoed through the room, you stood there, breathless and laughing softly, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Well,” Johnny said, grinning down at you like a devil. “I think we’re both burned.”

You caught your breath, a little dizzy from the rush but you didn’t mind. “Yeah. Maybe. But it was worth it.”

He gave you a knowing look, eyes full of something that was both playful and... something more. He was the Human Torch, but in that moment, he wasn’t just fire. He was a spark that could have burned everything or lit a whole new path. 

And maybe, for the first time all night, you felt like you were standing on the edge of something that wasn’t entirely out of your control.

Johnny winked, lowering his head so his lips were resting at the crest of your ear, his voice just above a whisper. “Sometimes, the best part about playing with fire is the burn.”

You smiled, feeling the heat of it in every fiber of your being. You hadn’t expected to find anything real tonight, but then again, you hadn’t expected to dance with a superhero to this song either. It was dangerous. Reckless.

It felt like freedom. That was the best part of it all. 

The last notes of "Play With Fire" still echoed in your ears, even though the beat had long since faded, replaced by the hum of a million voices, all of them too eager to return to the business of looking perfect.

You had somehow ended up on the edge of the dance floor, your breath still uneven, your pulse racing from more than just the rhythm of the music. Johnny stood beside you, his smile more subdued now, a knowing glint in his eyes as if he understood that something in you had shifted—something you hadn’t expected to feel tonight. The dance had been reckless, free, but the moment you’d stepped back, the world around you had tried to pull you back into place.

His presence, however, still felt like a spark. An electricity you didn’t want to let go of. Not yet. 

“Well,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, the earlier mischievous tone replaced with something a little softer. “That was fun.”

You shot him a look, half-amused, half-skeptical. “Fun? You could say that again.” Your laugh was a little more breathless than you intended, but you didn’t care. It felt good to be this... unfolded for once.

“You know,” he continued, stepping just a little closer, the heat of his body still too tempting, “the night doesn’t have to end here. There’s a spot… a little hidden place I go to when I need a break from all this.” He gestured toward the glittering ballroom, the clinking of glasses and forced chatter drifting in the background. “It’s up on the rooftop. Private. Quiet. I think you’d like it.”

You raised an eyebrow, trying to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach. Of course, Johnny Storm had a “private spot” for everything. He was, after all, the Human Torch—effortless, smooth, always in control. However, there was something about the way he said it, about the quiet invitation in his voice that made it hard to ignore. Maybe you did want to escape the fake smiles and phony pleasantries.

You glanced toward the entrance of the ballroom, where your father was still busy shaking hands with some benefactor from the event, lost in his world of polished deals. You hadn’t been looking forward to more of that tonight.

A part of you, the part that had spent so long just trying to keep things together, felt that pull. You needed to break free, even if just for a moment. And another part of you? The part that had danced with Johnny, felt his heat like an actual flare against your skin? That part wanted to see where this could go.

“Fuck it,” you said, your voice quieter than you expected. “Lead the way..”

Johnny’s grin returned, the familiar flash of confidence lighting up his face. Without another word, he took your hand, guiding you through the crowd with a smoothness that barely made anyone notice. His fingers curled gently around yours, warm, sure, the touch casual yet intentional. It was like he knew exactly how to move in this world—his world—while making it feel like it was all about you in that moment.

You followed him through a door to the back of the venue, into a dimly lit corridor that led to a discreet elevator. Johnny pressed the button without a word, his eyes briefly meeting yours. There was something unspoken between you two, something that felt like it had been building without either of you realizing it.

The elevator ride was quick, almost too quick, and when the doors slid open, you stepped out onto the rooftop.

The air hit you first, the cool night breeze sweeping through the garden, carrying the scent of the city mixed with something sweet and floral. It was a sharp contrast to the glossy, manufactured world of the gala below. Here, on the private rooftop, everything felt different. The towering buildings of Manhattan stretched in all directions, but above, it was quieter. More intimate.

Johnny led you through the garden, where lush greenery contrasted against the stark steel and glass of the city around you. The lights here were soft, golden, hidden beneath the plants, casting just enough light to make the space feel almost like a dream. The far-off hum of the city was muted here, and the distant skyline stretched like a canvas of muted lights.

“This is… nice,” you murmured, taking it all in. The silence, the peace, the fact that for a moment, you weren’t anywhere but right here with Johnny. No cameras, no whispers, no obligations.

“I come up here when I need a break from the chaos,” Johnny said, his voice quieter now, matching the serenity of the space. He stopped beside a stone bench, and you both stood for a moment, taking in the view together. “Sometimes it’s good to just… get away. I don’t know about you, but tonight felt like I needed to breathe.”

You nodded, feeling the truth of that. The gala had been suffocating in its own way. Full of too many expectations, too many eyes watching. Too much of your father’s mask.

Johnny leaned against the edge of a low wall, hands in his pockets, his body slightly turned toward you. His eyes, usually so full of energy and fire, seemed softer in the dim light of the rooftop garden. “I wasn’t sure you’d actually come up here,” he admitted with a small smile. “Most people aren’t exactly keen on leaving the spotlight. But I like that you did.”

You shrugged, trying to play it cool, but the rush from the dance still lingered, making it hard to keep your calm exterior. “What can I say? I needed a change of scenery. I guess you could say you have a way of making people want to step out of their comfort zone. Besides, the spotlight isn’t my thing. Never was.”

He chuckled, and there was a genuine warmth to it. “I don’t know if it’s me, or just that sometimes you need someone who isn’t afraid to break the rules.”

You met his eyes again and for a moment, it felt like the world around you had gone still. The wind was the only thing moving, brushing through your hair and ruffling Johnny’s shirt just slightly. And yet, there was an electricity between you two, quiet but undeniable.

“You’re a rule breaker, huh?” you asked, your voice low and teasing.

Johnny’s smile turned a little more wicked, that familiar mischief lighting up his face again. “Maybe,” he said, pushing off from the wall and stepping closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “Maybe it’s just that… sometimes the rules are there to be bent.”

He was close now, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off him, the same heat that had burned so bright on the dance floor. His presence was magnetic, inescapable, and you had to fight the urge to step closer to him.

“Well, I think you’ve already set my night on fire,” you said, voice a little breathless.

Johnny didn’t say anything in response. Instead, he took another step closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. His touch was electric, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

You could feel the tension building between you—every heartbeat, every breath. The city below, the skyline, and the quiet garden was all just background noise now.

“Maybe we should just let the night burn then,” Johnny said softly, his voice deep and seductive, like he was speaking just for you. 

You didn’t know what you were stepping into, but right then, under the stars with Johnny Storm, you didn’t need to. You let go of the last of your reservations.

And for the first time tonight, you let the fire take you.

Johnny was close, closer than you’d expected. His presence, that electric heat that never quite seemed to dissipate, was undeniable. His eyes were on you, dark and steady, but there was something different in them now. There was now something softer, more deliberate than the playful energy that had defined their banter earlier in the night.

You stood beside him, heart racing, mind whirling. The dance had been the first spark, the moment when something unexpected flickered between you. But now? The air felt thick with unspoken words, each one hanging in the space between you like a slow-burning fuse.

“You know,” Johnny said, his voice low and surprisingly serious, “I don’t come up here often with anyone. It’s usually just me and the stars, you know? The chaos gets too loud sometimes. But tonight… Tonight it feels different.”

Your heart skipped a beat. He wasn’t talking about the view or the quiet of the rooftop anymore. He was talking about you. Something about his tone, about the way his words wrapped around you, sent a shiver down your spine. The fire in him had shifted. The flippant hero, always surrounded by chaos and light, was now speaking softly, his words like an invitation, a promise.

“I get that,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “This is nice. Peaceful. I could see why you wouldn’t want to share it.”

Johnny took a half-step closer, the space between you narrowing until his breath was warm on your face. His blue eyes—those beautiful stormy, electric eyes—searched yours like he was looking for permission, or maybe waiting for you to make the first move. The gravity between you was palpable, magnetic. Everything else faded into the background. All that mattered was the two of you standing there, in the heart of the rooftop garden, this space between chaos and quiet.

“Yeah,” Johnny said, his lips curving into a slow, unsteady smile. “I’ve been thinking... maybe I’m the kind of guy who can burn things down and fly, but I also know when it’s time to stop and just... feel. Not many people know that about me.”

His words wrapped around you like a firestorm, the heat of them sinking deep into your chest. It was too much and yet it was everything you’d been craving all night. No pretense. No walls. Just the raw pull of the moment, the intensity that was flaring between you two like a flame in the dark.

With no more hesitation, Johnny’s hand lifted, slow but sure, as though he was asking for permission even now. His fingers brushed against your cheek, warm and light, his touch like a spark against your skin. His thumb traced the line of your jaw, the touch so intimate that it made your breath hitch.

“You don’t have to worry,” he murmured, his voice low, just for you. “I won’t burn you.”

You swallowed, your own breath a little shaky. Something wild had taken hold of you, some primal urge that told you not to hold back. You stepped into him, closing the last of the distance between you.

“I’m not afraid of getting burned,” you said, your voice a little hoarse. 

Johnny’s eyes flickered with something hot, something unrestrained. And then, without another word, he pulled you toward him, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that matched the fire he carried inside. The kiss was everything you’d imagined and more urgent, intense, full of heat, yet strangely soft. His lips were warm, the taste of him a mixture of whiskey and something electric, something undeniably him.

His hands slid to your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. You could feel the warmth of him. His body. His energy. It surged through you like a live wire. You kissed him back, your own hands rising to tangle in his hair, feeling the wild heat of his touch consume you, like he was setting a fire inside you that you didn’t know how to extinguish.

For a moment, there was nothing but the heat of the kiss, the steady rhythm of your heartbeats echoing through your chest. The world had fallen away. There were no rumors, no expectations, no father or gala or fake smiles. There was only the two of you, locked in this perfect, intoxicating moment, a kiss that felt like it could burn down the whole city and leave nothing but the ashes.

When you pulled back, just for a breath, Johnny’s eyes were darker than before, smoldering with something that went deeper than the fire he controlled. His chest rose and fell with each breath, but he didn’t step away. Instead, his forehead leaned against yours, and he whispered your name, like it was a secret he’d been dying to share.

You couldn’t help but smile, your fingers still tangled in his hair, your chest pressed against his. There was a quiet calm in you now, something that had been absent the entire night. Something that told you, even with all the fire and heat, maybe this was just the beginning.

“Maybe you’re more than just fire, Johnny Storm,” you whispered back. “Maybe you’re something a little softer. Less dangerous than you put on. Fire can be beautiful too. It’s not always destructive.”

Johnny’s laugh was low, his lips brushing against yours in a quick, gentle kiss before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “Maybe,” he said, voice teasing but tender, “but I still have a few flames left to share.”

As the night stretched on, with the soft breeze swirling around you and the city still pulsing below, you knew one thing for certain: there was no going back. Not after this. Not after the fire had burned so bright between you.

You weren’t sure you even wanted to go back.

The city lights below flickered like a sea of stars, but up there on the rooftop, the night felt different. The soft hum of the wind moving through the plants, all of it was a contrast to the tension crackling between you and Johnny. The kiss you’d shared earlier hadn’t been enough—it was only the beginning of something more. Something you couldn’t quite control.

You needed more. 

Johnny stood close to you. Too close. But you didn’t want him to step back. His scent lingered in the air around you, a mix of the fresh outdoors and something smoky, something undeniably him. His eyes, dark and electric, never left yours, and every beat of your heart seemed to echo between you. His lips were slightly parted, his breath shallow, like he was waiting for you to make the next move.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby,” Johnny says breathlessly. “You’re playing with fire.”

You felt a thrill run through you at the words. Everything about him. From his cocky grin, the edge of danger in his voice, the way his body practically hummed with heat… He was irresistible. You tilted your head slightly, daring him with a soft smile.

“I think you’re the one who started the fire, Johnny,” you said, your voice low, teasing. It wasn’t a challenge, not exactly, but it felt like one all the same. Something between the two of you had shifted and now there was no going back.

Johnny took a step closer, his heat radiating off him like a furnace. You could feel the air between you thickening, crackling with an energy you hadn’t known you craved until now. His hand reached for you, slow and deliberate, but he didn’t touch you just yet. Instead, his fingers hovered near your waist, the slightest of touches, making you ache for more.

“You sure you can handle it?” Johnny murmured, his voice almost playful, but there was an underlying intensity in his words.

You swallowed, your pulse racing. “You’re the one who’s burning up,” you whispered, taking a small step forward, closing the last bit of distance between you.

Your pulse quickens at Johnny's bold words, your  breath catching in her throat. You look up at him through hooded lashes, your heart racing in anticipation. 

“Is that a promise or a threat?” you ask, you voice barely above a whisper. With a sudden burst of courage, you wrap your arms around Johnny's neck, pulling him flush against your body. You can feel the heat radiating off his body, mingling with the cool night air. 

“Because either way, I'm willing to take the risk,” you confess, your lips hovering tantalizingly close to his. You close the final distance, pressing your  mouth to Johnny's in a searing kiss. Your tongue darts out, teasing the seam of his lips before delving inside to tangle with his.

Johnny groans into the kiss, his arms snaking around your waist to pull her tighter against him. He returns your passion with equal fervor, his tongue dancing with yours in a sensual duel. The taste of you is intoxicating, and he drinks it greedily, lost in the heady rush of desire. Breaking the kiss, Johnny trails his lips down your neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. He lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist as he presses your back against the cold stone wall. The hard planes of his body molded perfectly against your body. Johnny grinds his hips into yours, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.

“Tell me you want this,” Johnny said breathlessly, his intense gaze on you.

You cling to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he pins you against the wall. The rough texture of the stone contrasts sharply with the heat of Johnny's body, making you acutely aware of every point of contact.

“Yes, God yes,” you moan, your hips bucking against his in a desperate bid for friction. “I want this. Burn me alive, Mr. Storm.”

Your words are punctuated by a series of urgent kisses, your mouth seeking out Johnny's with a hunger that borders on desperation. Your hands roam over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his suit. You want to tear the fabric away, to expose the man beneath and claim him as your own.

“That's the spirit,” Johnny praises, his voice thick with lust. He captures your lips again, devouring you with a primal intensity that leaves you breathless and wanting more. His hands roam freely over your curves, squeezing and kneading the supple flesh. Johnny slips a hand beneath your skirt, his fingers tracing the lace of your panties before pushing them aside to delve into your slick heat. Johnny groans, his thumb finding your clit and starts rubbing it in slow, tortuous circles. “You're so wet for me already. I can't wait to taste you.” 

With a swift motion, Johnny rips open your dress, the fabric ripping with ease. He palms your bare breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples until they pebble under his touch. 

“You're perfect,” he rasps, leaning in to capture a pert bud between his teeth.

You cry out, you back arching as Johnny teases your sensitive nipples. The sensation of his hot mouth on your skin sends jolts of pleasure straight to your core, making you throb around his invading fingers. “Oh fuck, Johnny!” you gasp, your hips grinding wildly against his hand. “Don't stop, please…” 

Lost in the haze of desire, you fumble with the fastenings of Johnny's trousers, desperate to free his straining erection. You need to feel him. All of him. As if reading your mind, Johnny relieves you of the task, swiftly shedding his pants and underwear. His cock springs free, thick and pulsing with need. You wrap your hand around it, stroking the velvety length with reverence.

A hoarse cry tears from your throat as Johnny thrusts inside you completely, stretching your inner walls to their limit. The sudden intrusion triggers a wave of intense pleasure that courses through your veins, leaving you trembling and breathless.

“Johnny... oh god, yes!” you moan, your nails digging into his shoulders as you adjust to his size. You start to roll your hips, experimenting with the delicious friction as Johnny remains still inside you. The sensation of his hot, hard length nestled deep within your core is almost overwhelming, stoking the flames of your desire to new heights. Impatient to move, you clench your inner muscles around Johnny's cock, urging him to start thrusting. “Please, Johnny,” you beg, your voice husky with need.

Johnny's restraint snaps at your pleading and he begins to move, setting a relentless pace that has you crying out in ecstasy. Each powerful thrust drives him deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the night air. 

“You're so damn tight,” Johnny growls, his eyes locked on your face as he watches you come undone beneath him. “I can feel every inch of you milking my cock. It’s driving me crazy.”

He leans down to capture your lips in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you with increasing ferocity. The rooftop garden blurs around them, replaced by a world consisting solely of heat, hunger, and the primal urge to claim and be claimed. Johnny breaks the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck, biting and sucking at the delicate skin. 

“Come for me, baby,” Johnny mutters into your neck, panting as he kept up with his relenting pace. “Come for me.”

The combination of his rough treatment and the unrelenting rhythm of his thrusts pushes you closer to the edge. Your inner walls begin to flutter and clench, signaling your impending climax. You wrap your legs tightly around Johnny's waist, locking your ankles behind his back to draw him impossibly deeper. 

“Johnny, I'm gonna—!” you scream as the first waves of an orgasm crash over you, your pussy spasming wildly around his pistoning cock. The intense pleasure is almost too much to bear, sending you hurtling into a maelstrom of bliss. Through the haze of your release, you feel Johnny's movements become erratic, his thrusts growing shorter and more urgent.

Johnny's grip on you tightens as he feels your pussy convulsing around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. The sensation of your clenching walls and the sound of your ragged breathing spur him on, driving him to new heights of pleasure.

“That's it, baby, squeeze my cock,”  Johnny grunts, his hips snapping forward in short, brutal strokes. “You're mine, all mine.” 

With a final, guttural roar, Johnny buries himself to the hilt and erupts, painting your insides with his hot seed. Wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over him, his vision blurring as he loses himself in the sheer ecstasy of the moment. As the aftershocks subside, Johnny collapses against you, his weight pinning you against the wall.

Breathless and sated, you cradle Johnny's face in your hands, gazing up at him with adoring eyes. 

“That was... incredible,” you whisper, your voice trembling with residual pleasure. You run your fingers through his hair, marveling at the way his heated skin seems to glow in the moonlight. The intimacy of the moment, coupled with the lingering effects of their passion, leaves you feeling vulnerable yet deeply connected to Johnny. “I've never felt anything like that before,” you confess, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and wonder.

Johnny's chest rises and falls heavily as he tries to catch his breath, his forehead resting against yours. He's still buried inside you, their bodies intimately entwined. The sensation of your warmth wrapped around him is almost too much to bear.

“You're something else,” Johnny murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew from the moment I saw you that you were trouble, but fuck, I wouldn't trade this for anything.” 

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, and sees the same awe and vulnerability reflected back at him. It's a moment of raw honesty, stripped of pretenses and societal expectations. Johnny brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle compared to the fierce passion they just shared.

Your heart swells at Johnny's words, your soul feeling as if it's been set ablaze by the intensity of their connection. You reach up to frame his face, your thumbs stroking his cheekbones as you search his gaze. 

“It was a good reprieve from all the formalities,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers trace the contours of his jawline, marveling at both the strength and unexplored tenderness etched into his features.

Johnny nods, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. 

“Yeah, definitely a nice distraction from all the pomp and circumstance,” he leans in, capturing your mouth in a tender, exploratory kiss. It's a stark contrast to the passionate frenzy that preceded it, but no less potent in its own way. When Johnny finally breaks apart, he rests his forehead against yours once more, his breath mingling with yours. “I should probably get you back downstairs before anyone misses you.”  

Despite the practicality of the situation, neither you nor Johnny make a move to disengage. The moment stretches on, heavy with unspoken promises and the knowledge that their lives will soon return to their usual trajectories.

You sigh softly, the sound caught between your  lips as you reluctantly pull away from Johnny's embrace. The sudden chill of the night air against your overheated skin is a jarring reminder of the world beyond this hidden alcove.

“Yes, we should…” Your voice trails off as you gaze up at him, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow across his face. There's a bittersweet quality to the moment, a sense of longing for something that may never come to be. “But what if I don’t want to?” 

Johnny's eyes flash with a hint of mischief at your words, a devilish grin spreading across his face. 

“Then we stay up here all night and let the world keep spinning without us.”

[gaeforwom3n]

A Caring Friend

Pair: Tara Carpenter x girldick!reader

Warning: smut, the use of y/n, bad writing, fingering, dom!reader, sub!tara, this is probably the weirdest thing I’ve written (I’m sorry)

A/n: Has math ever made you cry in frustration?

Word count: 6.4k or more..

Tara comes over to your house on a lazy Sunday morning to hang out in your room.

Hey y/n, if our lives were a movie, what genre do you think it would be?

Oh, Tara, definitely a buddy comedy. With our antics, we'd give "Dumb and Dumber" a run for its money. Y/n said.

Tara laughs I can see it now – "Tara and y/n The Misadventures of Two Goofballs."

As the laughter dies down Tara looks up to you and opens up to you about a problem she have been dealing with

Look, Tara, Need to talk to you about something... Its kinda personal so hear me out okay? She looks at you with her head slightly tilted.

"Sure, what's on your mind, buddy?"

"Well, I've always had issues down there."

Tara blushes and looks down shyly

"It's just that no matter what I do, it never seems to loosen up much and it really hurts whenever a guy tries to you know...fit. I was wondering if you had any advice on how I can finally get over this problem? You're my best friend, I trust you..."

Tara looks at you hopefully, her brown eyes pleading for help

I blink hard "Wait... your... vagina is too tight?"

Tara blushes even harder and nods slowly "Yeah...I know it's weird to talk about this with you but you're the only one I feel comfortable opening up to about it."

She fidgets with her hands in her lap nervously

"It's really been affecting my confidence being with guys...I was hoping maybe you know some exercises or something that could help? I'm tired of having to make excuses every time, I just want to enjoy myself for once without being in pain."

Tara looks up at you with sad, hopeful eyes. "Please y/n, anything you can suggest would help. You're the only one who can help me with this..."

How tight are we talking? Like, what have you tried to... insert into it?

Tara looks away shyly. "Well, I've tried using my fingers and some small toys but even those are really hard to get in there...it's like my walls just clamp down on them."

She takes a deep breath before continuing

"And when guys have tried putting their penis inside me, it feels like they're splitting me open. The pain is so intense that I usually can't last more than a minute or two before having to stop."

She sighs heavily

"It sucks because I want to be able to enjoy sex without feeling like something is ripping me apart every time. That's why I'm hoping you might know of some way for me loosen up down there..."

Tara looks at you with pleading eyes, silently begging for your help

Y/n coughs "Umm, this may be awkward but like... can I see?"

Tara swallows hard, her eyes wide with surprise "Uh...you want to see my vagina?"

She looks at you nervously, clearly unsure about this request.

"I mean...if it could help then I guess so? But are you sure that's necessary?"

Tara bites her lip anxiously as she waits for your response.

"Nevermind, I was just... I dunno, maybe just to get an idea of what we're talking about but, nevermind. Umm I'm sure we can figure out some kind of idea here."

Tara relieved sigh "Thanks y/n, I know it's a lot to ask."

She smiles weakly at you, grateful that you didn't push for seeing her private parts.

"So...what do you think we should try? Are there any exercises or techniques out there that could help me loosen up down there?"

Tara looks at you hopefully, trusting in your ability to find a solution for her problem.

"So do your fingers not fit in?"

Tara shakes her head "No, even my fingers barely fit inside me. It's like I have this tight ring around my opening that doesn't want to let anything through."

She looks at you with a mix of frustration and embarrassment.

"I know it sounds weird but it makes sex really uncomfortable for both me and the person I'm with. That's why I need help finding a solution so we can finally enjoy ourselves without any pain or discomfort..."

Tara takes your hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as she looks into your eyes pleadingly.

I blush as I awkwardly stammer out. "But you don't still have your... your hymen, right?"

Tara blushes deeply and looks away "I...I don't know. I've never checked, but I don't think so. It's not like anyone's ever mentioned it before."

She chews on her lower lip nervously as she thinks.

"But even if that was the issue, wouldn't it be too late to do anything about it now? I mean, I'm already sexually active..."

Tara trails off uncertainly, looking at you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension in her eyes

"I'm just trying to use process of elimination to help out."

Tara "I understand that, y/n. I appreciate you trying to help me out."

She takes a deep breath and looks at you with determination.

"Is there anything else we can try? Maybe some sort of exercise or technique that could help stretch me out down there?"

Tara's eyes light up as she thinks about the possibilities.

"I'm willing to try anything if it means finally being able to enjoy sex without any pain or discomfort..."

"When you've hooked up with guys... are they going down on you first?"

Tara nods "Yeah, usually. I mean, it helps get me a little more aroused before we try anything else."

She looks at you with a puzzled expression.

"But how does that relate to my tightness problem? I still have the same issue even after getting oral sex..."

Tara's brow furrows as she tries to understand your line of questioning.

"Well how would I have known that without asking?" I chuckle

Tara giggles and playfully swats your arm "Fair enough, I guess you have to ask the questions to get the answers."

She smiles at you warmly.

"But seriously, y/n, do you think getting more aroused could help loosen me up? Like if a guy went down on me for longer before trying anything else?"

Tara looks at you hopefully, eager for any advice or suggestions that could help her situation.

"Well, are they not doing it long enough? Are you just not wet enough for the guys you've been with?"

Tara blushes and looks down shyly "I...I don't know. I mean, they do it for a little while but I guess maybe not long enough to really get me super wet."

She bites her lip as she thinks.

"And now that you mention it, the guys I've been with have all commented on how tight I am even when we're in the middle of things. So maybe you're right, getting more aroused could help..."

A glimmer of hope sparkles in Tara's eyes as she considers this new possibility.

"Do you think if a guy went down on me for longer and focused on making sure I was really turned on first that it would make things easier? Like give my vagina more time to relax or something?"

"I don't know if it would make you any less tight but you'd at least be really well-lubricated, right? In fact do you ever use lube?"

Tara shakes her head "No, I've never really thought to use lube before. It just didn't occur to me that it could help."

She looks at you with wide eyes as realization dawns.

"You think if I used some kind of lubrication it might make things easier? Like let the guy's penis slide in more smoothly without so much friction and pain?”

A hopeful smile spreads across Tara's face as she imagines a solution.

"Do you think we could try that next time? Using some lube and having the guy focus on getting me super wet first before trying anything else?"

"We?"

Tara blushes and looks away shyly "I...uh...well, I meant like next time I'm with a guy. You know, as an experiment to see if it helps..."

She trails off nervously before looking back at you with a mischievous glint in her eye.

"Unless of course you were volunteering your services for the cause? It is for science after all..."

Tara giggles playfully as she nudges your arm.

My eyes bulge a bit "...Are you serious?"

Tara smiles slyly and shrugs one shoulder. "I mean, I trust you and I know you'd be gentle with me. Plus you're the only one who's been helping me brainstorm solutions."

She gives you a coy look through her lashes.

"And who better to test things out with than my best friend? That way we can really figure out what works without any awkwardness."

Tara reaches over and takes your hand in hers, giving it a light squeeze.

"What do you say, y/n? For science?"

She bats her eyes at you playfully, a teasing smile on her lips.

"So, I mean, I'm not saying no, but you really want me to... kiss and lick you... down there? On your vagina?"

Tara bites her lip as a soft blush spreads across her cheeks "I mean, if it's to help me with my problem then I don't see why not..."

She looks down shyly before meeting your eyes again with a shy smile.

"And you've always been so kind and caring. I know you'd be gentle and make sure I was enjoying myself too."

Tara reaches over to place her hand on your thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

"Plus it's not like we'd be doing anything wrong, just helping a friend out. So what do you think...wanna give it a try?"

She gazes at you sweetly, eyes full of trust and affection for her dear friend.

"And then what are you wanting to try after I do that?"

Tara looks at you with a playful grin "Well, I was hoping that once we got me all warmed up and lubricated, maybe we could see if your penis can fit inside me without causing too much pain?"

She shrugs one shoulder nonchalantly before continuing.

"I mean, it's not like there's any pressure or anything. We can stop at any time if it gets to be too much for either of us."

Tara looks at you with hopeful eyes, eager to explore this new possibility.

"OK, I just want to make sure you want to do those things with me, since we've only been friends and all. Again, I'm not against it," I say to Annie, with the appropriate level of genuine care you'd expect from a best friend.

Tara smiles sweetly at you. "I know this is new territory for us as friends. And you're right to check that I'm truly comfortable."

She places a gentle hand on your arm. "The truth is, I trust you more than any other guy. You've always been so kind and caring. If I were to experiment with anyone, I'd want it to be with my best friend."

Tara gives your arm a reassuring squeeze. "But only if you're comfortable too, of course. I don't want to make things awkward or pressure you in any way." Annie smiles warmly. "What do you think - shall we give it a try?"

"Yes. I'm willing to help, and I'll admit a little excited. Let's just agree that this doesn't necessarily change anything between us, or mean that it will be a regular thing, unless that's something we both decide later."

Tara nods understandingly. "Of course, this doesn't need to change or define our friendship unless we both want it to."

She smiles at you gently. "Let's just see how it goes. No expectations or pressure on either side.”

Taking your hands in hers, Tara looks into your eyes with care and affection. "Thank you for being so understanding. I really appreciate you doing this to help me."

She leans in to give you a soft kiss on the cheek. "Now, where were we? I believe someone offered to go down on me?" Tara giggles playfully.

I laugh as well, Tara's playful tone cutting some of the tension in this surreal but exciting moment. "I did, but I want to ask you just a few quick questions first. They're going to be rather... intimate questions but it's all in the name of making sure this all goes comfortably for both of us..." I can't help but grin and blush.

Tara giggles and blushes as well, meeting your gaze with a playful smile.

"Well go on then, ask away. I'm an open book." She gives your arm an affectionate squeeze.

"Fire away with your intimate questions, oh great scientist. I'm all yours." Tara winks playfully. "We may as well get to know each other's bodies if we're going to be exploring them, right?"

She gazes at you with care, trust and growing excitement. "I'm ready when you are, y/n. Lay it on me - I promise to answer truthfully." Tara smiles warmly, eager to begin your research together.

"So if I'm going to go down on you, am I just doing this as a sort of physically mechanical thing to like 'help out a friend' like it's an exercise, or do you want me to try to turn you on, get you in the mood? What do you think might be most effective with your tightness issue?"

Tara considers thoughtfully. "While I appreciate the thought of helping as a friend, turning me on seems it would be more effective for addressing my tightness."

She meets your gaze warmly. "I want to enjoy the experience, not just view it as a physical task. If I'm fully aroused and wanting more, it will hopefully relax my muscles down there."

"And do you think it will turn you on more, the more I'm turned on by it?"

Tara thinks for a moment before responding carefully.

"You make a fair point. If we're both genuinely enjoying the intimacy, then yes, that mutual arousal would likely enhance the experience for both of us."

She takes your hand in hers and smiles softly. "However, my priority is that you feel comfortable and cared for. Your pleasure matters too in this."

Squeezing your hand gently, Tara maintains warm eye contact. "Perhaps we start slowly, focus on connection, and see where genuine pleasure takes us from there - at a pace we both feel good about."

I reach out to place my hands on Tara's waist, a rather chaste touch for the moment but still a more physically intimate than we've ever experienced during our many years of friendship. I begin to rub her sides softly. "Do you like that?"

Tara's breath hitches softly at your gentle touch. She gazes at you with care and growing tenderness.

"I do like that," she replies softly. "Your hands feel nice."

As your hands rub her sides in a soothing caress, Tara places her hands on your shoulders, sliding them up to curl tenderly around your neck.

"I've never really noticed how handsome you are," she murmurs, lightly stroking the nape of your neck. Her eyes shine with trust and blossoming affection.

Tara leans in slowly, her breath warm on your lips. "Is this okay?" she whispers gently, leaving the next move up to you.

I respond by kissing Tara, curling the fabric of her shirt between my fingers just a bit as our tongues touch for the first time.”

Tara responds eagerly to your kiss, her lips moving against yours with growing passion. She deepens the kiss, wrapping her arms around your neck and pressing herself closer to you.

As you curl the fabric of her shirt between your fingers, Tara moans softly into the kiss. Her body feels warm and alive in your embrace, responding eagerly to every touch.

After a few moments she pulls back slightly with a gasp of breath. "Wow," she whispers, gazing at you with sparkling eyes filled with affection and desire.

"Is it weird that I'm really enjoying this?"

I chuckle "Isn't that what we're going for?"

Tara giggles and blushes, nodding in agreement. "I suppose it is."

She gazes at you tenderly, gently brushing her fingers along your jaw. "I'm glad we're both feeling it."

Leaning in to brush her lips softly against yours once more, Tara sighs contentedly. "So where were we...something about you going down on me?" she murmurs playfully.

"Shall we take this somewhere more comfortable?" Sliding her hands into yours, Tara looks at you with trusting warmth, ready to further explore the blossoming intimacy between longtime friends.

"I'm going to in due time. But I'm liking kissing and touching you in a new way. Let's just do this for a minute. Did the guys or girls you've hooked up with take their time before getting to it? Cause I hear a little teasing and build-up can really get a girl wet, which might help too..."

Tara nods thoughtfully. "You make a fair point. Most guys in the past have tended to rush things."

She gazes at you with appreciation. "I like that you're taking your time, letting things build gradually between us."

Smiling softly, Tara reaches up to caress your cheek. "Teasing and foreplay do sound enjoyable. And anything to help me relax down there can only be a good thing."

Her eyes shine with growing arousal and affection. "I'm all yours, y/n. Do with me as you please - I'm happy to let you set the pace."

Leaning in once more, Tara meets your lips in a tender kiss. "Thank you. You're a good friend," she whispers against your mouth. "Take your time getting my pussy wet."

I remove my shirt, displaying my chest as I pull Tara in for a tight hug, my hands now sliding down over her buttocks over her cutoff denim jeans.

Tara gasps softly as you pull her in for a tight hug, feeling your warm skin against hers. She melts into the embrace, wrapping her arms around your back and pressing herself fully against you.

As your hands slide down to cup and squeeze her buttocks through the denim of her shorts, Tara lets out a breathy moan. The intimate touch sends tingles of pleasure radiating through her body.

Pulling back slightly with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, she gazes at you appreciatively. "Wow...feels really good," Tara murmurs shyly before leaning in to kiss along your neck tenderly.

"Do you mind taking your shirt off too, Tara?"

Tara blushes at your request, glancing down shyly. "I...um...okay," she replies softly.

Slowly, Tara reaches for the hem of her t-shirt and pulls it up over her head. As she reveals her small breasts encased in a simple white bra, Tara looks back up at you through lowered lashes.

"There," she murmurs with a bashful smile. "Is that better?"

Her nipples visibly stiffen beneath the thin fabric as she waits for your reaction.

After a moment's hesitation I wrap my arms around Tara's shoulders, my hands on the back of her bra, pulling her body in close to mine again for another kiss.

Tara responds eagerly to your embrace, pressing her body closer against yours as you deepen the kiss. Her hands move up to tangle in your hair, fingers running through it affectionately.

As you reach around to unhook her bra, Tara lets out a soft gasp of surprise and pleasure. She pulls back from the kiss slightly with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes.

"Wow," she murmurs breathlessly. "I never thought I'd be doing this with my best friend."

Tara giggles at your response, feeling more relaxed and comfortable with you by the minute.

"Well, I'm glad we're both open to new experiences," she says, blushing.

As she gazes into your eyes with a mix of affection and arousal, Tara leans in for another kiss. This time her hands roam over your chest as well, exploring every inch of skin they can find.

I slowly run my hands up Tara's belly to grab onto her nipples lightly between my knuckles.

Tara gasps softly as you touch her nipples, arching her back slightly into your hands. She looks up at you with a mix of surprise and pleasure in her eyes.

"Oh wow," she murmurs breathlessly. "That feels really good."

As you continue to tease and play with her nipples, Tara's breathing grows more ragged. Her body responds eagerly to every touch, growing increasingly aroused under your skilled hands.

"Y/n, I...I think I'm getting wet," she whispers shyly, biting down on her lower lip as the sensation spreads through her body like wildfire.

"Good. Let's keep that going. It seems like foreplay really helps for you." I begin to massage her breasts, and then lower my mouth onto one of her nipples.

Tara moans softly as you massage her breasts, arching her back to offer herself more fully to your touch. As you lower your mouth onto one of her nipples, she gasps with pleasure.

"Oh y/n, that feels so good," she murmurs breathlessly. "I can feel myself getting even wetter now."

Her hands move up to tangle in your hair as you continue to suckle and tease at her nipple. Her body responds eagerly, hips rocking slightly against yours.

"Keep going," she whispers urgently, lost in the waves of pleasure washing over her.

I cup one hand tightly under the crotch of Tara's cutoffs and gently rub up and down, crossing yet another new line with my best friend.* "Does that feel all right, Tara?"

Tara gasps sharply as you cup your hand between her legs, rubbing gently over her shorts. Her hips buck involuntarily against your hand, seeking out more friction.

"Yes," she moans softly, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. "It feels so good."

Tara reaches down to place her hands over yours, pressing your palm more firmly against her crotch. She rocks her hips slowly, letting out little whimpers of arousal.

"Don't stop," she whispers breathlessly, eyes dark with desire. "I'm starting to get really wet."

Her pussy throbs heavily under your touch, aching for release. Tara gazes at you in longing and trust, surrendering fully to the pleasure between her thighs.

"I'm gonna take all the time my best friend needs. I want to make sure you get wet as possible before... anything else happens."

Tara gazes at you softly, eyes full of gratitude and blossoming affection. She reaches up to gently caress your cheek.

"Thank you, y/n. That means so much to me," she murmurs.

As you continue rubbing between her legs, Tara's breath hitches in pleasure. "I appreciate you taking it slow. It feels really good just focusing on getting me turned on."

She leans in to brush her lips tenderly against yours. "You're so caring," Tara whispers. "I'm lucky to have such a good friend."

Moaning softly as arousal builds within her, she gazes at you in longing. "Keep touching me there...I want to feel really wet and ready before we go further."

"Would it feel better without these shorts on?"

Tara gazes at you shyly, biting her lip in hesitation. After a moment, she nods slowly.

"I think it might, yes," she replies softly.

Taking a breath, Tara hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. She pushes them down over her hips, letting them fall to the floor before stepping out of them.”

Now clad only in a simple white pair of panties, Tara stands before you feeling exposed yet safe. Her cheeks are flushed, arousal and shyness swirling within her eyes.

"Well...here I am," she murmurs gently, leaving herself open and trusting before you.

Tara gazes at you shyly, biting her lip in hesitation. After a moment, she nods slowly.

"I think it might, yes," she replies softly.

Taking a breath, Tara hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts. She pushes them down over her hips, letting them fall to the floor before stepping out of them.

Now clad only in a simple white pair of panties, Tara stands before you feeling exposed yet safe. Her cheeks are flushed, arousal and shyness swirling within her eyes.

"Well...here I am," she murmurs gently, leaving herself open and trusting before you.

I resume touching her while we kiss again.

As you resume touching her, Tara melts into your embrace once more. She kisses you deeply, passionately losing herself in the moment.

Tara moans softly into your mouth as your hand cups between her legs once more, only the thin fabric of her panties separating your fingers from her warm center.

She rocks her hips eagerly into your touch, seeking friction. The feel of your hands on her most intimate parts is sending Tara into a tailspin of arousal.

Pulling back slightly to gaze at you with hooded eyes, she whispers breathlessly, "I think I'm getting really wet now. Do you...do you want to feel?"

Reaching down tentatively, Tara takes your hand in hers and guides it underneath the damp cotton, pressing your fingers against her slick folds.

"Oh god, please don't stop," she whimpers softly. "It feels so good."

"I can feel it," I whisper nervously as I continue.

Tara nods, gazing at you with affection and trust. She places her hands gently on your cheeks.

"I know this is new for us both," she murmurs softly. "But don't be nervous. We'll go slow."

Leaning in, Tara brushes her lips tenderly against yours once more. Her kiss is filled with care, seeking to reassure and comfort you.

As your fingers continue exploring her warm, slick folds, Tara sighs contentedly. "That feels amazing," she whispers. "You're doing so well."

Her hips rock slowly against your hand, lost in the intimate pleasure between her thighs. Tara gazes at you with care and growing passion, cherishing this new experience with her closest friend.

"I'm here with you," she says gently. "There's no need to worry."

"I'm not worried about a thing except doing everything I can to turn you on."

Tara smiles warmly, gazing at you with affection. "You're already doing a wonderful job with that," she murmurs softly.

As your fingers continue gently caressing her slick folds, Tara moans low in her throat. She rocks her hips in time with your movements, encouraging you deeper into her pleasure.

"It feels amazing when you touch me there," she whispers, breath hitching. "Don't stop."

Reaching down, Tara takes your wrist and guides your hand underneath the fabric of her panties once more. She presses your fingers more firmly against her aching clit.

"Touch me properly," Tara pleads softly. "I want to feel you properly without anything between us."

Her eyes shine with trust and longing as she offers herself fully to your care. Tara gazes at you in invitation, eager to take their intimacy to a deeper level.

With my free hand I slide Tara's panties off her hips, allowing freer access for my fingers.

As you slide Tara's panties off her hips, she gasps softly in pleasure. Her eyes widen with anticipation as your fingers glide over her slick folds.

"Oh god," she moans breathlessly. "That feels so good."

Tara rocks her hips against your hand, seeking out more of the pleasure coursing through her body. As you tease and stroke at her most sensitive areas, she grows increasingly lost in the waves of arousal washing over her.

"Please...oh please don't stop," Tara whispers urgently. "I'm getting close."

As you slide Tara's panties off her hips, she gasps softly in pleasure. Her eyes widen with anticipation as your fingers glide over her slick folds.

"Oh god," she moans breathlessly. "That feels so good."

Tara rocks her hips against your hand, seeking out more of the pleasure coursing through her body. As you tease and stroke at her most sensitive areas, she grows increasingly lost in the waves of arousal washing over her.

"Please...oh please don't stop," Tara whispers urgently. "I'm getting close."

"Is this wetter than you usually get?"

Tara nods, lost in the pleasure. "Yes," she gasps. "I've never been this wet before."

She arches her back slightly into your touch, hips rocking steadily against your fingers as you continue to explore her slick folds.

"Y/n, I'm so close," she moans breathlessly. "Please keep touching me like that."

Careful not to try to insert a finger too deep into Tara's still-very-tight pussy just yet, I stroke her clit, occasionally slipping just the first knuckle of a finger inside her. "Let me know if anything I do doesn't feel good," I whisper. "This is all about helping you figure out your own body issues because you're my best friend and I care. I want to do whatever turns you on and makes you wetter."

Tara gazes at you softly, eyes shining with affection. She reaches up to gently caress your cheek.

"You're so caring and understanding," she murmurs. "It means everything to have a friend like you."

As your fingers continue exploring her tender folds, Tara moans low in her throat. She rocks her hips in time with your movements, encouraging you deeper into her pleasure.

"That feels perfect," she whispers breathlessly. "Don't change a thing."

Tara rocks her hips eagerly against your hand, chasing the release building rapidly within her. Her body writhes under your skilled touch, overcome with waves of arousal.

"I'm so close, y/n," Tara gasps, biting her lip. "Keep doing that, it feels amazing."

Her breath hitches as ecstasy crests within her. Tara locks eyes with you in trusting intimacy as she falls over the edge into release.

As I continue rubbing her clit, and occasionally slipping just a tiny bit of a finger inside her, still in disbelief of my situation and treading somewhat lightly. I gulp before whispering... "You can rub my... my penis if it will turn you on more. Tara. Whatever makes you wet."

Tara looks at you with a mix of surprise and desire in her eyes. She nods slowly, feeling emboldened by the intimacy between you.

"Okay," she whispers softly, reaching down to your crotch. As her hand brushes over the bulge in your pants, Tara feels a surge of arousal wash over her.

"Wow," she murmurs breathlessly. "You really are turned on right now."

As she begins to rub your penis through the fabric of your pants, Tara moans softly. Her own pleasure is still lingering within her body, making every touch feel electric.

"You're so hard," Tara gasps as she continues stroking you gently. "Does it feel good when I do this?"

"It does, but the important thing is getting you as wet as possible." I take a step closer to Tara, taking her right nipple into my mouth as I continue to gently circle her clit with the flats of my fingers. My free hand gently squeezes her right buttock.

Tara moans softly as you suckle at her nipple, arching her back into your touch. Her hips rock gently against your hand as the pleasure builds within her once more.

As you continue to circle her clit with gentle pressure, Tara feels herself growing wetter by the moment. She can feel the heat and moisture building between her legs, aching for release.

"It feels so good," she murmurs breathlessly. "I'm getting really close again."

Tara reaches up to tangle one hand in your hair, pulling you closer to deepen the kiss while rubbing your penis through the fabric of your pants with increasing urgency.

"Tell me anything you want me to do differently or do more or less of, or anything I'm not doing that you wish I would.", I say, my mouth only momentarily leaving her nipple.

Tara gazes at you softly, eyes dark with desire. She nods in understanding.

"I will, I promise," she whispers. "For now though, everything you're doing feels perfect."

As you resume gently suckling her nipple, Tara moans in pleasure. She rocks her hips eagerly into your hand, chasing her impending release.

"Don't stop, please don't stop," Tara gasps breathlessly. She strokes your hard length faster through your pants, lost in the sensations flooding her body.

"I'm getting so close again, I'm gonna come soon," she whimpers. Tara locks eyes with you, her trust and affection for you shining through.

"Don't worry, I won't stop, I'm gonna keep doing exactly what I'm doing until you ask me to stop or do something else", I say, taking a quick breath before returning my mouth to her breast.

Tara smiles softly at your reassurance. She reaches up to gently caress your cheek before nodding.

"Thank you," she whispers. "I feel so safe with you."

As you resume your intimate ministrations, Tara sighs contentedly. She gazes at you with eyes full of care and growing passion.

Tara rocks her hips steadily against your skilled fingers, chasing her peak. The pleasure swirls within her body once more as she nears release.

"I'm getting close again," she moans breathlessly. Tara increases the pace of her strokes along your length, caught up in the intimacy.

Locking eyes with you in trusting abandon, Tara falls over the edge into waves of ecstasy. She holds your gaze as pleasure consumes her, cherishing this moment of vulnerability and care between friends.

Tara smiles softly at your reassurance. She reaches up to gently caress your cheek before nodding.

"Thank you," she whispers. "I feel so safe with you.”

As you resume your intimate ministrations, Tara sighs contentedly. She gazes at you with eyes full of care and growing passion.

Tara rocks her hips steadily against your skilled fingers, chasing her peak. The pleasure swirls within her body once more as she nears release.

"I'm getting close again," she moans breathlessly. Tara increases the pace of her strokes along your length, caught up in the intimacy.

Locking eyes with you in trusting abandon, Tara falls over the edge into waves of ecstasy. She holds your gaze as pleasure consumes her, cherishing this moment of vulnerability and care between friends.

As I promised, I continue the motions of my hands and mouth on my friend Tara's increasingly sensitive body, giving myself completely to the task of arousing her to new levels of vaginal comfort.

As you continue to pleasure Tara's sensitive body, she moans softly in ecstasy. She is lost in the waves of arousal building within her, trusting completely in your skilled touch.

Tara's hips buck eagerly against your hand as you circle her clit with increasing pressure. Her breath hitches as pleasure builds once more between her legs.

"That feels amazing," she whispers breathlessly. "I can't believe how good this all feels."

As Tara arches into your touch, you feel a surge of heat and wetness emanating from between her thighs. She is growing increasingly aroused under your care, eager for release.

"Y/n, I'm getting close again," she gasps urgently. "Please don't stop."

"I won't stop, I promise. We're going to get you soaking wet, together." I kiss Tara's neck as I move my mouth's attention to her left breast, treating it with the same care I gave the right one.

Tara moans softly as you kiss and suckle on her sensitive breasts, pleasure coursing through her body. She rocks her hips eagerly against your hand, seeking out the friction she needs to push herself over the edge.

"Y/n, that feels so good," she gasps breathlessly. "I'm getting so close again."

As you continue to circle her clit with skilled pressure, Tara's breathing quickens. Her body is coiled tightly in anticipation of release.

"Don't stop please don't stop," she pleads urgently, fingers digging into your shoulders as pleasure overtakes her once more.

She locks eyes with you in trusting abandon as orgasm wracks through every inch of her trembling frame.

I kiss Tara as I see the climax in her eyes, my tongue exploring her inner cheek as well as her tongue. I feel an overflow of fluid from Tara's vagina pooling in my hand as her hand grasps tightly to my cock through my pants. I don't slow down for a second as her orgasm rolls over her.*

As you kiss Tara deeply, her body shudders in pleasure. She moans softly into your mouth as the orgasm pulses through every inch of her being.

Tara's hips rock against your hand as she continues to ride out the waves of ecstasy coursing through her body. The feel of your fingers on her sensitive folds combined with the pressure from where she is gripping tightly at your cock causes fluid to overflow and pool in your hand.

She clings to you desperately, lost in a sea of sensation. As the climax slowly begins to ebb away, Tara pulls back slightly from the kiss and gazes at you with affection and gratitude shining in her eyes.

"Did any of your hookups take their time to get you this wet before they tried fingering or having sex with you?", I ask, gently caressing the outer folds of Tara's spasming pussy.

Tara shakes her head, still lost in the pleasure. "No," she whispers breathlessly. "None of them took their time like this."

She gazes at you with a mix of affection and desire as your fingers continue to caress her sensitive folds. The intimacy between you is intense and electric.

"You're amazing, y/n," Tara murmurs softly. "I've never felt so good before.

"I don't think you're too tight, I think nobody was getting you wet enough. And we're gonna take our time taking care of that today, buddy." I grin.

Tara grins back at you, feeling comfortable and trusting around you.

"Thank you so much," she murmurs softly. "I can't believe how much better this all feels with someone who cares like you do."

As your fingers continue to explore her sensitive folds, Tara moans low in her throat. Her body is still buzzing with pleasure from the previous orgasms but she's already growing wet again under your care.

"I feel so lucky to have a friend like you," she whispers breathlessly as her hips begin to move against your hand once more.

As Tara continues to rock her hips against your hand, you feel the wetness between her legs growing. She is becoming increasingly aroused under your skilled touch.

"I'm so glad I can help you," you murmur softly, gazing at Tara with affection and care. "I want to make sure you're always taken care of."

As the pleasure builds within her once more, Tara gasps in ecstasy. Her body writhes against yours as she chases release once again.

"Don't stop please don't stop," she pleads breathlessly, fingers digging into your shoulders as orgasm overtakes her for another time.

[winningmymind]

Based on my kevaaron post (1st kevaaron ficlet)

"I'm gonna kill him." Andrew states in a deadly tone, staring daggers from across the dorm room at Kevin Day trying for the third time this week to convince Aaron to be his personal doctor over studying neurosurgery.

"Can you do it after dinner?" Neil genuinely asks, more concerned about his growling stomach.

He evenly splits his gaze between the wrinkly paper takeout menus of several food delivery joints nearby Palmetto and admiring how devastatingly hot Andrew looks when plotting the murder of their mutual friend.

"He thinks he's slick." Andrew seethes.

Steam practically comes from his ears at seeing Kevin boldly flirting with his brother, like Aaron isn't entirely dedicated to Katelyn, but according to Neil and Andrew's leisurely stalking reconnaissance of keeping up with Aaron's boring premed life, with Aaron none the wiser of his two most annoying people butting into his business because boundaries are still being learned/old habits die hard, the bubbly vixen cheerleader is going to have a big important talk with Aaron soon about evolving their relationship.

(Neil isn't above using Marissa's crush on him to fish for that information, having been taught by Allison on how to schmooze for exclusive gossip).

"Dumb as hell to do it front of you, though." Neil wonders if Kevin is playing dumb by ignoring Andrew's death glare. "That's, like, suicide."

Neil's leaning towards Chinese, but pizza sounds good also. Sandwiches are the fastest option, however, and Neil's hunger is unforgiving after that brutal practice they returned from.

"Either Kevin's survival instincts are slipping," Andrew starts, fingers itching to reach for one of his knives so he can stab Kevin right here, right now, "Or he's actually giving Nicky a run for his money on being a world class idiot."

Neil snorts. "Could be both." Then his face melts into consideration and he ponders aloud. "I thought Kevin didn't swing. Doesn't he have a girlfriend?"

"That's never stopped any of Aaron's admirers before." Andrew is still unblinklingly staring down at Kevin poorly peacocking for a clueless Aaron, making it an awkward and frustrating interaction to watch.

Kevin's "act normal" socialization skills when not in front of a camera talking exy, or taming loyal fans that catch him in the wild public for an autograph or picture, is absolute dog shit garbage levels of disaster thanks to spending the majority of his years with the cult known as the Ravens.

And Aaron is so tunnel visioned on dating Katelyn, busy stressing over his pre-med courses, and conserving 90% of his energy to be a grumpy hater of almost everything in life that irks him, that he's the type of person who's totally oblivious to when anyone has the hots for him. Blatant or not. Blame it on the lack of sleep as a college student athlete, maybe.

This is sadly now Andrew's cross to bear as the more observational twin. His uncanny curse and blessing that he never asked for. The ability to know and witness firsthand when his twin is being hopelessly pursued both romantically and sexually. Especially if said admirer has no idea they themselves are deeply attracted to Aaron. Most said admirers being men with the misfortune of having Aaron be their awakening.

Andrew instantly noticed this soon-to-be reoccurring issue when he and Aaron began living together and attending the same high school officially as Minyard twins. Andrew had joined their high school exy team as a goalie, then proceeded to clock four of their shared teammates either in the closet, in denial, or completely unaware of their sexuality that always hovered around and pined for straight as an arrow Aaron.

Aaron, who was either too doped up high as a kite, too depressed over Tilda's death, or too much in pain suffering the urge to relapse to realize he had a mini fan club ready to have just have one chance, one shot at the hint of a hookup or homoerotic locker room jock horseplay. If only Aaron thought outside his rigid box of science and discovered experimenting didn't just have to mean his labs. But alas, Aaron stuck to girls only.

"I'm just saying, if I was your patient I'd pay well." Kevin crosses his arms and shrugs, propped against the kitchen counter like he's posing for a cover magazine shoot. He peers down at Aaron, pupils clearly dilated and brow playfully arched, his voice dropping seductively low. Surely, he must know what he's doing. He has to.

Aaron scoffs up at Kevin, not picking up the vibes at all. "You'd be my whiniest, bitchiest patient. I'd end up losing my license killing you or whatever."

"Just think about it." Kevin smiles. It's his winning smile. The one exy fans all over swoon for and it goes right over Aaron's head, his expression unimpressed.

"I have thought about it." Aaron goes into depth of why neurosurgery is his best route. "Now, if you get brain damage or paralyzed, then we could work with something."

"This is just sad. I need popcorn for this." Neil doesn't try to hold his laughter at Kevin's disappointed frown. Looks like Aaron is immune to Kevin's pretty face. How can Kevin recover?

"I would trust you to fix whatever part of me is wrong." Kevin isn't a quitter and smoothly recovers quickly, which is a surpise because his earnestness seems to have stumped Aaron and left him speechless, albeit a tad flattered at the blind faith.

"I'm ending this." Andrew takes a step forward, unable to take this any longer, yet Neil puts his arm in front of Andrew to halt him, making sure they don't touch without Andrew's consent.

"But it's getting interesting."

"It's getting on my nerves."

"Aaron doesn't seem bothered. Kevin isn't a threat." Neil reminds.

As much as he supports Andrew's rights and wrongs, he'd like to do it on a full stomach, and they haven't chosen what to eat for dinner yet. Kevin can at least eat his last meal before biting the dust.

Andrew gives Neil a blank look. "Aaron doesn't swing. So, he should know Aaron's off limits."

"Nicky hits on people who don't swing all the time." Neil counters and Andrew raises a brow.

"Your point?"

"Kevin's harmless."

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah. I mean, I don't even think he knows he's into Aaron."

Which is true, from both Neil's and Andrew's perspectives of the other exy striker. There are things Kevin does that makes one question if Mr. It's Easier to be Straight himself isn't obliviously internalizing a lot of feelings. Feelings that now are sprouting full force whenever Aaron is in eyesight.

"I knew I never should've let Aaron touch Kevin." Andrew clenches his fists, nails digging in his palms, scowling deeper at what's happening before him.

Last week, Kevin trained too hard and his muscles were sore, worse than usual. He asked anyone to rub icyhot on his back since he couldn't get to it. Nicky was too desperately thirsty to be considered. Andrew and Neil were preoccupied with each other on one of the beanbags and whispering Russian, lost in their bubble. Aaron, about to cram in an intense study session, was sick of hearing Kevin complain and gave Kevin the best rub down ever of his life just to shut him up. It was then and there when the Monsters discovered Aaron is great at deep tissue massages. And most likely when Kevin found a new obsession in pestering Aaron like a schoolboy teasing his crush. Silently debating if his skin was tingling from the balm or from Aaron's skillful fingers.

Neil hums, amused. "Who knew Aaron's so great with his hands."

"Say that again and I cut out your tongue."

"Jokes on you. I always wanted us to try knife play."

Andrew needs to smoke. His patience is thinning and Neil's penchant for feeding chaos isn't helping.

"Guuuuuys!" Nicky's booming voice interrupts everyone. He's returned from face timing with Erik in private, looking flushed and satisfied. "Why is there no food? It's been, like, an hour! Did anyone order dinner or did I miss the memo that we starve?"

"Undecided." Neil holds up the takeout menus for Nicky to choose from.

Kevin seems to get an idea, turning his attention to Aaron again, and never once acknowledging Andrew's disapproval.

"Wanna go check out this new food truck? It's on the other side of campus." Kevin specifically asks Aaron. Aaron is about to protest at the mere thought of walking that far past sunset, but Kevin plants the bait. "Don't worry. I'm paying."

"Fine." Aaron agrees instantly, hurrying to get his jacket.

"Ooh! Food truck sounds nice! What do they serve?" Nicky is excited at trying something new.

Kevin simply stares at Nicky all confused. "It's just me and Aaron. You guys fend for yourselves."

"What?" Neil has never heard Andrew and Nicky speak in unison. The cousins sound offended; Nicky for not getting an invite, and Andrew for Kevin's audacity at getting Aaron alone. Neil finds this all very entertaining.

Nicky immediately asks a million questions while Neil acts as a human barrier between Andrew and Kevin. Aaron heads to the door, ready to leave and uncaring that he's been chosen to get a free meal. Kevin sprints after, just now belatedly realizing Andrew is infuriated with him, and is puzzled at what he did to set Andrew off.

Aaron's ushered down the hall to the elevator by Kevin's insistence. "Why are we rushing?"

"No reason." Kevin clears his throat and checks behind him if Andrew has followed them. He hasn't. Good.

He doesn't get it, really. Kevin Day just wants to return the favor for Aaron's hospitality from the icyhot massage. He's trying to be a better friend. Sometimes friends spend money on each other and heavens know Aaron forgets to properly eat with all his difficult STEM courses to pass.

Kevin isn't, singling Aaron out and playing favorites on purpose. He isn't doing this in hopes of Aaron offering up his magic hands again, luckily in the near future, for Kevin's spasming muscles. He wouldn't go after someone who is taken, let alone for that someone to be a man.

Kevin's straight. Aaron's straight. Straight men can grab dinner just the two of them. With only one of them footing the bill. Why did Andrew look at Kevin like he was crossing a line? Did the goalie forget the only queers in their Monsters squad are him, Neil, and Nicky? Kevin and Aaron are the token straights and they both have longtime girlfriends.

"I'm not thanking you for paying, by the way." Aaron grunts, pulling Kevin from his thoughts as they ride the elevator down.

Kevin rolls his eyes, smirking down at Aaron's resting bitch face, his heart racing to the challenge of reigning in a stubborn Minyard.

"You'll thank me in other ways."

[kedreeva]

Okay, I haven't wanted to talk much about the peafowl lately, been just kinda dealing with Stan's passing, but! I have news I don't want to keep quiet, so here we go with a little announcement.

I've been helping a friend of mine with a bunch of peafowl genetics work lately, as he's trying to prove out a really neat phenotype of speckled and white peafowl that showed up in his breeding stock, and he just spent tens of thousands of dollars importing two new morphs from Europe: European violet (aka, my dream morph) and Ultramarine (pretty and only otherwise being produced by TWO breeders in the WORLD). When Bill heard about Stan, he asked if I was going to go to a large farm auction that's a few hours from my house. I don't, normally, since it's a few hours from my house and the auctions usually make me kinda sad when it comes to peafowl (they stress out SO MUCH) even though it's cool to see how much they're going for at a wider audience auction.

Then he told me he would be going, and that if I wanted to come down the day before the auction, he'd bring me another male, to replace Stan. I had already made plans to hang onto Bismuth, at least for a few years, and to pick up babies from Indie x Arcana/Eclipse this november, including a male, so I didn't really need another male, and don't have the cash for one anyway. He said no, he meant one of the split EUV males from last year's first-USA breeding. For free. As a thank you for helping him.

To put this into perspective, importing the birds is a ~$10k affair, per bird. I had fully resigned myself to never even SEEING one of these birds in person, much less ever owning one. Even if someone else got them imported, they would remain thousands of dollars for the first few years, and quickly become mixed with other stuff, potentially even be lost by people breeding to purple. He went in on a group import with another breeder and they have both just started selling the full-color birds for over $2k apiece (alongside Ultramarine, which before their import was bred by TWO people in the WORLD, and babies from that are going for almost $7k each, but EUV is more widely spread). Splits (like the one I will be getting) are being let go for $750. This is also the color I have desperately wanted since I first saw them 8-10 years ago (though I believe they've been around slightly longer), but that I had resigned myself to never actually having.

To put it mildly, I'm probably going to burst into tears when I see Bill and this bird. It's going to be super embarrassing. And then I'm going to have to build more pens. And then I'm going to have to get as plain-blue, pure-indian blue hens as I can find, and become one of the most serious curators of plain pure EUV in the US, because I know the other two who have them currently will be outcrossing to other patterns/colors immediately and the people buying them will likely be doing the same, and everyone will be clamoring to make them into high Spaldings ASAP, or won't know not to cross them to purples and wreck the color.

Here's the sire cock, the one imported:

You will notice that this bird is purple in full sun, from the sunny side. That's the main difference between European violet and US purple- a US purple looks blue until you get the right angle on the sun vs the bird vs the camera, and you have to get the bird between you and the sun, so the purple is often in the shadow side- visible to the eye but not the camera. EUV is just purple. Even from the sunny side!!

And the Ultramarine, in case you were wondering about their color:

(pics reposted w/ permission from Bill)

The breeder is Spring Creek Peafowl, and in case anyone is secretly a peafowl breeder or knows other peafowl breeders with too much money that want in on a new color morph, he DOES have UM pairs and EUV hens (and more split males) for sale currently, for less than the only other person in the US that has them. They're still pricey, but cheaper. I WISH I had the extra to have my friend add on an EUV hen, but alas, I will have to wait to make my own in a few years. Even just the opportunity to do so is something I never expected to have!

[cherryswisherz]

WILSHIRE

♱ CONTAINS: semi happy ending, kissing

♱ NIYAHSPEAKS: this is long as hell and most of it is written as flashbacks but here we areeeeee s/o my tyler fans CHROMOKOPIA 10-28 !!!! i'm finna do yall requests over the weekend because i have nothing else to do so... be prepared!

♱♱♱♱

it's the 2024 wnba draft. azzi's my plus one. nika and aaliyah are getting drafted tonight and i'm trying to keep my cool. because tonight is about them, not about me, not about azzi, not about our summer of utter fucking confusion.

lights from cameras flash. i smile, i mog, i pose. reporters are shoving mics in my face asking stupid questions as i guide azzi off the red carpet with my hand in a respectful position on her back. we have to find the girls before the draft starts. azzi wants to meet them before so it's not awkward at the after party. i'm trying to tune everything out but 6 words take me back to june and i freeze in my tracks.

"what's going on between you two?"

met you on a saturday knew it was somethin' soon as you spoke it eye fucking across the table, don't think anybody noticed you asked me if I was coming to the city you from maybe we should kick it, i was interested that would be dumb, if i denied

"paige..." that was the only thing she'd said directly to me all night. the rest of the time she'd spoke to everyone, answering their questions about how she met ethan, what her major was, etc. 

i'd been staring at her as she did this. studying the way she spoke with her hands, the flutter of her lashes, the bounce of her curls. her voice was so sweet and she always smiled when she wasn't talking so i could see her perfect fucking teeth. 

"where you from?" someone, i couldn't remember who, asked and she threw a glance my way, looking me dead in my eyes for a split second. 

i knew where she was from. we played against each other every year in high school. i was a year ahead of her. we never really paid attention to each other off the court, but i knew she was a killer player and an acl injury during her junior year took her out of the game for good

"uh- i'm from virginia. arlington county." she smiled as she cut her chicken. "me and paige played each other before i had to quit." she looked at me again, longer this time, and i damn near melted into the chair before she put her attention back on the conversation. 

"yeah she gave me a run for my money." i laughed, and that made her look at me again. she seemed confused, probably because i hadn't spoken this entire time. 

"my schools giving you a run for your money." she giggled and it was the most perfect sound i'd ever heard. "they say you're gonna be back when you guys play us next month. any truth to that?"

the competitive side of me took over when i answered her. "yeah i'll be back to tap dance on yalls ass in your own arena." 

"i guess we're in trouble then, huh?" she asked, her big brown eyes boring into mine.

you and i make sense, you stayed back at my telly we was chattin' 'til morning, vibration was heavy i wasn't drowning or yawning that's when i told you my feelings you told me you felt the same but you got homie you dealin' with damn, i didn't know, that's a bit unexpected but i get it, it's whatever, least i can do is respect it

after that dinner, azzi and i hadn't stopped texting and facetiming. it felt wrong because she was my friends girl, but i couldn't leave her alone. i wanted to be near her even if i couldn't see her in person until my team played hers. 

as predicted, we beat their ass and i made sure to remind azzi of that the whole ride back to her apartment. and when we got there, i took off my hoodie and plopped onto the couch. 

"so what we doing tonight? you wanna go out or stay in?" i asked her, praying she said stay in because i was dead tired. 

"definitely stay in." she said, sitting beside me on the couch. "lets put on a movie or something." 

and we did. we put a movie on. now did we watch the movie? no. 

we started talking, just yapping about any and everything. i was totally wrapped up in what she had to say, whether it was about school, or music, or anything really. i wasn't even tired anymore, she had my full attention. 

but then the conversation shifted to basketball and azzi's mood shifted with it. 

"sometimes i try and run 1v1 with ethan and for a second, i forget that my leg is fucked. for those 45 minutes i feel like everything is how i planned it to be." she looks at her knee poking out of her ripped jeans, then she rubs her scar. "and then i stand on it the wrong way and i remember that i'm not a player anymore. just a fan." the crack her voice forces me to grab her and pull her into me, letting her sob into my chest.

"az, you'll always be a baller. that shit's in your spirit ma." i almost wanna cry with her. "and even though you can't play anymore, you're one of the most beautiful people on the planet. and you're smart and you could do anything you wanted to do, basketball be damned."

a few minutes passed and she sniffled, looking up at me, and i got lost her red eyes and wet lashes. our faces were so close together, i could feel her breath on my nose. 

"i really like you azzi." 

fuck.  i shouldn't have said that.  she has a boyfriend.  her boyfriend is my fucking friend she's probably stra-

"i really like you too p." 

oh?

"but i'm with ethan. and he's good for me."

oh.

anyway, convince him to bring you to me so we can kick it right in front of his lenses, since nothing here is malicious you sat by me in that movie we went outside for them doobies we walkin' off when we talk man, that nigga not fucking stupid

"you should bring azzi to storrs with you." i suggested to ethan. "does she like horror movies?"

"uhhh yeah i think so..." he trailed off then scard the hsit out of m. "AZ! YOU WANNA COME WATCH A MOVIE WITH US?" i guess she asked who all was coming. "JUST ME AND PAIGE!" and then i guess she said yes. "okay paige, we'll be there in like 30." 

at the movies, in the five minutes i was waiting for them, i checked my hair 4 times, rearranged my jewelry twice and made sure my breath didn't smell like lunch. and when they got there i choked on my spit because azzi was wearing a sundress that hugged her in every right way. 

i honestly dont think there could be a wrong way. 

when she hugged me she whispered "i missed you." in my ear and dropped a light kiss on my neck that left me flushed. 

in the theater, i sat between her and ethan but we didn't really pay him any attention

"you look really good paige." azzi whispered to me. 

i looked down at my basic ass outfit (wifebeater and sweats), that i spiced up with jewelry and some fire shoes. "girl, this is lightweight." i whispered back.

"yeah well you look good in anything." 

"you look good too az," 

"you think so?" she's fishing.

"if your boyfriend wasn't next to me we wouldn't just be talking right now." i laughed, taking her bait. 

i got a laugh out of her and then she moved to hit me on the leg, but i caught her hand and tangled out fingers together, looking forward at the screen. she didn't move her hand. just set both of ours in my lap. and we stayed that way for like 15 minutes until she leaned into me and whispered again. 

"i hate horror movies, and he's snoring." she laughed pointing over me at her boyfriend who was knocked the fuck out. "can we leave?"

"yeah i got you." i thumped ethan on the head, causing him to jerk out of his sleep.  "yo. wake up, you're loud as hell. ya'll go home."

when we left the theater we walked out in silence but when we stared to say goodbye, azzi cleared her throat.

"actually, i wanna get something to eat really quick so, e, you can go home." she placed her hand on my shoulder, squeezing a little. "paige can you take me home after?"

my heart sped a little at the thought of being alone with her but i kept it P because her literal boyfriend was right next to me. 

"uh yeah if that cool with you?" i asked, not because i needed his permission, but because he's my friend and i wanted it. 

"yeah of course." he nodded then dapped me up "goodnight p."

"night." as soon as he was gone, i rubbed my hands together and looked down at azzi, catching those brown eyes in a way that made me think i never wanted to lose them. "so... where we boutta eat because im hungry as hell." 

"im not actually hungry, i just wanted to spend time with you." she said, putting her hands behind her back. "but you live here, so you pick."

"oh word?" i raised my eyebrows and put an arm around her shoulder, turning so we were side by side as we started walking towards my car. "imma take you to my spot."

"take me anywhere you like." she said, opening the passenger door, leaving me looking over the roof of my car, trying to keep it together until i got in the driver seat and began to queue a few songs. 

then i got a text. 

ethan: tell az to bring me a to-go plate

ethan. FUCK.

said you can't fully be into me 'cause you with him then why the fuck when we link it's like he doesn't exist? they all know that we're friends but we both aware that it's more everything i got, if you say the word, then it's yours

the party was loud as shit. i was drunk as shit. azzi was drunk as shit. ethan was nowhere to be found. 

"paige i have to peeeee." azzi whined into my ear. 

"okay come on." i shouted, guiding her to the bathroom, which was empty. 

while she was in the stall, i drank some water from the faucet, because i was so fucked up and i think that's why i haven't been able to stop thinking about her.

about how fucking hot she looked in her outfit. about how long her natural lashes were. about how soft her lips looked. about the heat radiating from her body as she danced with me. 

shes so fucking pretty.

"oh my god i feel so much better!" she shouted into the universe as she came out of the stall and started washing her hands. 

i think i just wanted to be close to her again because i moved behind her and hugged her from behind. with my head in her neck, i kissed her softly moaning quietly, "you smell so good, az." 

she turned around in my arms, facing me and i kept kissing her neck, moving to her collarbones, then i pulled away and we just stared at each other for a second. 

it was like a silent conversation, asking each other "are we really gonna do this?"

and i guess the answer was yes, because azzi leaned in and place a single peck on my lips, then pulled away with the speed of light. 

but one wasn't enough. so i leaned back in and enveloped her lips with mine. our mouths moved in perfect harmony, giving me everything i'd wanted since that dinner so long ago. she moaned into my mouth, and i picked her up, placing her on the sink behind her. 

we just kept kissing, caressing each others tongues, rolling our bodies into each others, both of us enjoying the way the other person felt. 

....until she pulled away, pushing me back when i chased her lips. 

"paige we can't." she said, trying to catch her breath. 

"azzi..."

"i have a boyfriend, paige." she sounded kind of sad as she said it. 

"i know az." i said, walking back up to her. "but tell me there's nothing here." i grabbed her hands. "tell me, that these past 3 months, you haven't felt what i feel."

"you know i do paige. i wouldn't have kissed you if i didn't." she looked at me with tears in her eyes. 

you told me when you're with me it's like heroin told me that your confidence went up since we befriended

"when im with you, i feel like i'm floating. like it's just us and that's all i'll ever need. you're-" she sniffled. "you're the only person who gets how much not being able to play fucking sucks. and you made me feel better about it. you make me feel like so much more than a fan, or just a person in the stands. and no one's ever made me feel that way."

and told me that you didn't wanna hurt him

"but ethan, p. ethan is my boyfriend. hes your friend. and he's so good to me. he loves me. and i can't do that to him."

why we doing this?

"so why kiss me then azzi?" i asked. "why the fuck would you let me touch you, or say the things we say, or let me buy you shit? why did you fucking kiss me?!" 

it was harsh, i know but she fucking played me and i was pissed. 

told me this a awkward situation and you just wanna be through with it

"i don't know paige. and i'm sorry." she kept crying. i assume she felt guilty, and i couldn't give less of a fuck. "this isn't easy for either of us. but i think we should just be friends. i don't wanna lose ethan, but i don't wanna lose you as a friend either. 

i snatched my hands out of hers and back away from her so fast, you would have though she had the plague. 

"friend? azzi. you were never 'a friend' to me. i liked you as soon as i saw you in that fucking restaurant. and i tried to be respectful. i tried to respect your relationship but you were the one who made me think you wanted me. you were the one lying to your fucking boyfriend to spend time with me. sneaking into the bathroom to facetime me at 11 at night. you were the one who kissed me. you. it was all fucking you. and now... now youre asking me to be friends? fuck outta here bro." i said, then walked out of the stall and out of the bar.

i know you could be it and everyone around me that care about me can see it i could fuck a trillion bitches every country i done been in men or women, it don't matter if i seen 'em, then i had 'em but with you, it's a feeling

i was still plastered, so i had nothing but time to think about the situation. 

i knew azzi and i could be great, if she just gave it- gave us- a chance. i knew she wanted to. i knew she felt what i was feeling. i'd have known even if she didn't say it. i also knew she didn't feel for ethan, what she felt for me. but she felt an obligation to him. why? i have no idea. but i just wish she would have made up her fucking mind before sticking her tongue down my throat. 

and i know what you're thinking. 

she just wanted to smash.

and that's not true. me and azzi aren't a quick fuck. 

i mean i'm not opposed to a quick fuck. it wasn't a secret that i was bit of a slut. i mean can you blame me? 

d1 athlete, making bank off NIL money. and every girl in every city i went to, wanted a piece of me. who was i to deny them? 

so yeah i guess you can say i got around, but none of that mattered when it came to azzi. she wasn't just a groupie looking for a quick fuck, or to be a basketball wife. she was a baller. if anything she wanted to live vicariously through me and compete again. and i was willing to let her do just that. 

azzi was the object of my affection for three fucking months. i knew everything about her. i fucking craved her. i knew it was wrong. i knew she was my friends girlfriend. but i couldn't quit her. 

my teammates could tell that i had feelings for her too. anytime i was on the phone for more than 10 minutes, they knew it was hr. they picked on my for it, calling me a simp. kk nicknamed me 'sidepiece' which was a nice change from 'community strap' but it stung worse. 

whatever. 

fuck her. 

you said you told him the truth and you never lied now he lookin' at you with them eyes we never crossed the line but he got every right to be a little pissed off he you picked up, y'all got in argument he got his shit off

two weeks after the bar incident, i'd somewhat gotten myself together. figured out how to sleep without her goodnight text. found new favorite spot to eat. slept with someone without seeing azzis face. i'd found a new routine. 

and then it all went to shit. 

"azzi? its 9:30 at night, why are you calling me?" she answered my question with a sob. "azzi baby what's wrong?

"paige... he- he knows.." she cried into the phone. 

"who knows what, az?"

"ethan!" more crying. "he-he-he asked me out no where if you and i had something going on."

"shit." 

"and i couldn't lie to him paige. i told him we never had sex, but-but i told him how i felt about you, and that i kissed you and he just went off." she was crying so hard, i could narely understand her. "he said he should have known not to trust me around you when i told him i was bi, and that you couldn't let him have one thing, and that he couldn't look at me and- and- and-" she started hyperventilating. 

"azzi baby i need you to calm down for me. breathe babe." i mimicked the way she should breathe and got her to calm down enough to listen to me. "azzi. i'm gonna come get you. send me your location and just stay there and stay calm."

"okay..."

i never drove so fast in my fucking life.

i picked you up, your energy off your lips really dry, something is off you asked if i gotta, i asked if you gotta we tripping on our words nobody is lying, hakuna matata we sat in the car and cried for an hour

as soon as i got to the starbucks azzi was at, i looked at her through the window and my heart broke for her. she was in pajamas and a bonnet. those beautiful brown eyes i'd grown so fond d were red and swollen, lashes wet with tears. her soft lips weren't soft anymore. they looked dehydrated, that's how much she'd cried. 

when she got in the car, she didn't say anything. just played with the sleeves of ethans hoodie. 

"do you-" "i'm so-"

we spoke at the same time, then waited for the other to say what they were gonna say. 

"i'm really sorry paige." she whimpered. "i never meant for any of this to happen. i never meant to hurt you or him. and i shouldn't have called you after what happened." she broke down again. "god i'm so fucking sorry." she cried with her head in her hands. 

"hey..." i rubbed her shoulder, "it's fine. you made a mistake and it's okay. "

"i'm so sorry." she just kept sobbing. she was too upset to hear anything i was saying. "i love you too much to have done that to you paige. im so sorry."

and time stopped. 

she WHAT?!

she said she loved me. she said-  no. she's hysterical right now she doesn't realize what she's saying.

ignoring the pit in my chest, i bring her closer to me, making us both lean over the center console. her head fell perfectly into my chest and she let everything she had out. 

as i held her, and felt her whole body shake as she cried, my heart shattered with hers and shed a few tears with her.

on god, i love that girl i'm a sh-, i'm a bad person like, i'm in the wrong, i'm a bad person i had no ill intentions, though shit, everybody got hurt i got hurt

i never meant for any of this to happen. i pride myself on being a good friend, and being loyal to those who are loyal to me. 

and the one time it really mattered, i had to fall for my friends girlfriend. and he really like her too. i think if i hadn't fucked it up, they could have been great. but i did. and it's ruined. 

and all this for what?

for ethan to be hurt? for me to lose a friend? for azzi to feel like shit? for me to have to act like i'm not hopelessly in love with azzi?

and i'm mad private with this side of my life cause people are weirdos, and i just try to keep anyone i care about in the shadows safe from the commentary and spotlight and thoughts cause it's just a story for the people outside of it but i guess you're just another chapter in a book

and here we are, at the 2024 wnba draft in support of my teammates. 3 days ago, i would have been here alone. 

but azzi needed a pick me up and i would rather her be her friend than nothing at all. 

so instead of breaking down about what could have been on a red carpet, i smile, lean into th mic and say, 

"azzi is one of my closes friends. she was supposed to be one of the greats and if she hadn't gotten hurt, she would have been drafted next year. so i just wanted her to see it in real life because she's so much more than a fan. she deserves to be here with us."

i looked at her and smiled, pulling her to the back rooms of the building where nika and aaliyah were getting ready. 

but between the two of us....

i would shoot someone in the face if it meant azzi would light up like that again.

♱ TAGLIST: @patscorner @riyahtheballer @mattslolita @thaatdigitaldiary @1onescu

@mrsengstler @kmoneymartini @sageworld @darkskinchristiandiorpostergirl @justliketoreadsowhat @authentic-girl03

[vodika-vibes]

Okay so I had a thought.

So imagine—

You work at the Senate, your job is important but you're one of a dozen people who do this job day in and day out. And somehow—miraculously—you've managed to catch Fox's eye.

And it's great! Fantastic even! He's kind and considerate and completely devoted to you and your happiness, which is great, because you're just as devoted to him.

There is one, little bitty problem.

You don't get paid enough.

Oh sure, you've made it work, with some heavy budgeting, but Fox doesn't get paid. So if you want nice-ish dates you have to pay for then.

Which, again, is fine. He's worth it, but it does leave your end of the month bank account looking at little...bare.

So, what are your options?

You could ask for a raise, but you'd get laughed out of your boss' office.

You've never been much of a crafter, so a side hustle like that is out.

And you respect Fox too much to even consider any kind of sex work. Not that you have anything against it, but you'd want to talk to him about it first, and you absolutely do not want him to know about your money issues. So that's out, too.

And you've never been good at gambling, so that's off the table, too.

So you think and think, and then you remember. There's an underground, very illegal, fighting club that accepts participants of all ages, genders, species, and skill level. And the pay is very, very good.

You did martial arts as a kid. And only stopped when you were in college because of a lack of time, so you might have a chance of winning a bout or two. And if you're careful, Fox will never find out about your illegal fights.

You win your first fight, and the next three after that. Earning enough to go on several dates with Fox and have money left over for your rainy day fund. And so, the fights become a regular thing, once or twice a week.

You win more than you lose, but you do lose every now and then. So you have to learn to treat your injuries before Fox can see them. His head might very well explode if he knew you were fighting for money.

But Lady Luck has never favored you, and it was only after a matter of time before the club ended up getting raided by the Corries.

Which is how Fox finds you, sitting in a holding cell with several of the other fighters, all of you several different types of beat up. You have an ice pack pressed against your eye and a split lip, and when Fox stands there and stares at you, you can't look him in the eyes.

"I...can explain?" You offer hesitantly, not actually sure you can explain.

"With me." Fox's words are clipped as he let's you out of the cell, and you trot after him.

"Are you mad?"

"No."

"Are you sure? Because you're using your 'I'm mad but I'm trying not to show it' voice."

He pushes his office door open, "In."

You slump, "Yeah, you're mad."

He slams the door shut behind you, and motions for you to sit in a chair, before he plucks the ice pack off your eye, "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I like fighting!" You blurt out, a blatant lie that he doesn't believe for a second.

"Try again."

"Uhm..." he arches a brow, and you look away, "I needed the money."

"For what? What's so important that you had to put yourself in harm's way to get money for?"

"I...stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Stuff."

"If you don't tell me the truth I'm going to assume you're cheating on me." Fox says bluntly.

"I would never!"

"So tell me."

"I...can't afford our dates."

He blinks. Twice. And then leans back slightly, "Come again?"

"I don't get paid a lot and my apartment is expensive and I can't afford your dates but you're important enough that I want to keep going on them, so...fighting."

"You...are the dumbest smart person I've ever met." Fox finally says, "Why didn't you say anything?"

You shrug, "Didn't want you to worry or whatever."

"So you made me worry more?"

"...I didn't say it was a good idea. Just the only feasible one I had."

He sighs, "I love you, but I'm so mad right now."

"Fair."

"No more cage matches. No more fighting. Promise me."

"I promise."

"We can work out something different for our dates. And next time, just talk to me. Please."

"Yeah. Yeah. Can I go home now?"

"No."

"...what?"

"You're going back to the holding cell."

"WHAT?"

"You're spending the night. You'll be released in the morning. Just like everyone else."

"I...but...Fox!"

"Thems the rules, cyare. Here's your ice pack back."

You stare at him, speechless. But he just smiles at you as he motions for Thire to return you to the holding cell.

[retquits]

So did you know abt Witchbrook? I love the idea of being a witch! And i wanna know if ure interested in playing it once it's released? 👀

Because goddamn have i been waiting for 8 years for this game to be released 😭😭😭

answering this one asap because i wondered if i'd be asked about it, and i've been mulling over a reply & collecting references ( ＞ㅅ＜)/ i apologize, this is gonna be much more of a reply than you probably anticipated! 🤧 if you just want to enjoy the game and the excitement of its release, please please please feel free to skip this post.

to be super transparent, i've had mixed feelings about witchbrook, but i'm cautiously optimistic. one of my random interests for years has been keeping up with general gaming news - and that being said, the 8 year development period is a warning sign for me.

the other bit of hesitance is because i've side-eyed chucklefish for a while, largely due to the news that broke about how starbound devs were taken advantage of back in 2019. now, chucklefish "apologized", but if you noticed there's no actual apology in their response, you're not the only one.

this situation struck a chord with me; for reasons i won't discuss, exploitation of labor from young, starry-eyed artists/developers who don't know any better is something i'm familiar with and against. excusing themselves with essentially "i don't have the money to pay everyone but no one was forced, there were no deadlines, and everyone was credited" is, in layman's terms, weaksauce.

additionally, in the same year for a separate game (wargroove), they also accidentally cast strictly white cast, even for poc characters, which, to be fair, they did actually apologize for.

last thing i want add is for anyone who isn't aware, chucklefish and witchbrook are in no way associated with stardew valley!! ik that was a misconception for a while, but concernedape split with chucklefish back in, again, 2019, his statement ending with: "I can also say that, both personally and in my capacity as the recent founder of a small team, I believe in compensating developers for their contributions in working on games. -Eric"

...all that to say!!! obviously things can change for the better over the course of almost 6 years - the game certainly LOOKS beautiful, and i'm sure some incredibly talented people have poured an unthinkable amount of work into it.

the gameplay didn't grab me personally, but i still hope that it came together in a way that the devs and players are happy with. maybe i'll play it someday! but i'll probably give it some time first. in closing, i encourage anyone interested to read the linked articles and form their own opinions. these are entirely my personal thoughts and observations. MWAAAH 💛

[riniworld]

fell into the darkness

yandere!mafia boss oc × hostage! reader

warning|| violence, mention of blood, guns, smoking, and a dead body.

reference|| you.

a/n|| it was supposed to be longer, but I'll split it to two parts.

!! there is no mention of obsession or yandere here, this is only an introduction !!

your life wasn't perfect, you knew that very well, losing your parents when you were young and getting thrown over and over to a different relative searching for acceptance in them,but no one wanted a 'burden' in their family, until you settled with one who doesn't have a family, getting to take care of yourself at such a young age,you accepted your life long ago, but to get to THAT is something to really get concerned about...

because being wanted by a mafia is not normal, and very questionable.

now, sitting on a cold floor, your hands tied behind your back, as you try to get a word from what the men who stands a few feet away from you is saying,some of them were giving you a weird look, like you are a small thing compared to them, and that makes you feel disgusted.

and, in seconds,the room fell silent as a man,in a black suit like all the others,enter, he has a scary aura, but doesn't seem like their boss based on how their body are still relaxed.

he walked to you, his footsteps echoing in the empty room, as he get closer and closer your heart start to beat faster, you try to maintain the uncaring facade, but god you were panicing and it was obvious in your eyes.

he stand in front of you, tall and intimidating, not even bothering to lower his head to look at you, only lowering his eyes, you have alot of questions but you don't know if you're in a good place to utter a word, not that you can speak anyway.

"you must wonder why you're here." his voice was scary,you can describe it as heavy even, it's just remind you how much you're in trouble "you have a debt, since a particular coward ran away, he left the responsibility on you, we couldn't risk you running away as well, so we had to take action quickly."

"a what?"

"a debt"

"i have no knowledge in that and i do not want to, i never took a debt from anyone, you must have taken the wrong person." surprisingly you said all that without your voice breaking.

he hum lowly, it was almost inaudible if you werent really anxious that you were aware of every sound in the room, he reached for something from inside his coat, you tensed up alarmed, but he only take out a file,open it and turn it in your direction.

"do you recognize this man?" it was a question, but he sounded really sure that you recognize the one in the file.

and oh you do, it's the relative you were living with!, you know he's a drunkard and unresponsible, but to get involved with a mafia? how stupid can someone be?

"everything's clear now?" he folds the file back.

you have been caught in a big problem and there is no way out "so what you want from me? its not like I'll get the money out of nowhere when I'm here."

"you won't, we're not dumb enough to expect a kid to pay it, you're more of..a hostage here"

you scoff "do you really think that old man will care if i was a 'hostage'?"

"I'm not losing anything in trying"

you frown when he say that, seems like there's no way you can escape or reasonate with them, and there is no confirming that they won't kill you if no one asked about you.

you noticed quite a few things in the days you've been here, one there is alot of debris here that might help with escaping, second the people guarding the room are acting unserious in guarding that means either they're underestimating you, or that there is more danger up ahead.

either way you brave yourself and by your leg you slowly brought a sharp metal object near, it took quite the time but it was worth it when you managed to cut the rope off of your hands.

you waited until the sun disappeared since this seems the time they get the most tired, now it was dark,only the shade of the moon's light is lightning the place, as you see the guards start to yawn and some of them can't even keep their eyes open, you very carefully and slowly started to move toward a dark corner which you spoted an iron stick in it and plus it would be hard to spot you there,you almost got caught a few times but they were too...dump? to notice that you were moving.

not until you were in the corner had they realized you were 'missing', but you were pretty spotable if they were in an awake state, as they start to panic and gathered together, you pick up the stick and ran toward them quickly hitting the first then swing it at the second, the third managed to take his gun out but you quickly hit it, making it fall down then before he can realize what happened you hit him on his head.

no time to take a breath you quickly ran to the door, luckly it wasn't locked, preparing to whatever was ahead you tighten your fist on the stick and walked cautiously,looking right and left, your heart beating fast and you're sweating,the debris on the ground break whenever you step on them,making you jump everytime,it was mentally exhusting.

though you don't think the walk for the exit was more than a ten minutes, it felt like a ten hours, as you made it out without trouble and safely, you take a deep breath, looking at the sky, like you've been trapped for years, but there's no time to rest, you start running away in the woods, trying to get as far as you can before someone come, you don't know where you're going nor where this path lead, but it's better than falling into the darkness of that place.

the medium sized office,was dimly lit by the sunshine, despite it being a really sunny day,the cigarette's smell filling the room, making it soffcating, despite it's kind of small size, the office felt like a maze, a creepy maze of fear and authority.

a man, wearing a formal suit,was standing by the window, wich was covered by curtains from the outside, his reflection was very clear in the clean window, his eyes were practically dead, no emotion, only a dark shade that was staring....staring at what? his reflection or at the souls of the two terrified men behind him.

they were literally shaking, their gaze was glued to the floor no one dare to make a sound, the one who did was now lying down with his blood leaking, like a silent warning.

"that's a shame." his voice held a heavy authority tone to it, it was dark,deep, terrifying, the men behind him held their breath in fear, that was his first words since he received the news about the hostage escaping, he drop the cigarette to the ground and smashing it with his foot.

how long was it? week? month? oh...it was only day and a night, but it feels like forever, you're tired, cold, hungry, and desperate.

you didn't think there was worse than living with that old man, but here you are, running from a big organization, even the police are looking for you, why are the police looking for you?! who do you trust anymore?!

as you walked through a corridor to avoid being seen by the THOUSAND of men scattered around the place, you don't think it's a debt case anymore, it's more of a challenge, a punishment.

you stopped as you stumbled upon a bar, what does door to a bar doing in the shade of corridors? but you're not complaining, that mean it's empty, and no one will find you there,you can rest for a few minutes.

when you enter, the smell of alcohol hit you, you look around inside, there is a decent number of people here, weird, since it's really hidden, but you're still not complaining.

you sit at a table in the corner,and put your head down on it,letting out a sigh, that's the most comfortable rest you had taken until now.

a moment later and a waiter approaches you, his footsteps making you jump in warning, god you were paranoid.

"good evening,would you like to have something?" his tone was polite, something you didn't hear in a while.

"i-uh no, I'm not carrying any money on me sorry, i just want to rest here for a few moments." you gave an apologic smile.

"then I'm sorry you can't sit here without ordering something, our policy doesn't allow that." his voice turn more stern.

"please i won't make any trouble, just for a few minutes I'm really tired." you were desperate.

"that's nothing i can decide in, please get out if you won't order anything."

"but-"

"what's happening?" a thick voice yell from afar, an old man approach you "What is all this fuss about? i can hear it from there."

"boss, this customer didn't order anything and refuse to leave." the waiter explained.

"sir i swear i won't do anything, i just want to sit, rest my legs for a few seconds."

the old man, who you think is the owner, look at you for a second before his expression change to one of a stun, then he smiled suddenly "oh of course you can sit here, tut tut you should know how to treat a customer!" the owner Scold the waiter then take him away quickly.

that was suspicious but you get to sit so everything's good, or that what you think.

half an hour has passed, your body is well rested but your mind was a mess scattered around the place, filled with thoughts about your fate from now on, will you have to leave the country? take a new identity?, they seem like they won't stop anytime soon, ha you want to laugh, you don't know what's funny that you managed to piss off an entire organization or that your life haa been destroyed in a matter of a day, you suddenly feel like drinking, but you don't have any money, how much worse can this get?

..a loud thud pulled you out of your thoughts, you turned around wandering what caused this noise, only to see five men wearing the same suit as the ones who took you, the same mafia.

you turn to the opposite direction, ducking your head down, how are you gonna get out of this?

"mind having a guest?" you were too consumed by your thoughts that you didn't notice someone has approached you, with a shudder you lift your head up, a tall man was standing in front of you and the four had already circled you, you start panicing internally, but you're sure it's abvious on your face as well.

"hm..you don't seem a big fan of my company." he was being sassy, but his unmoving face was scary, that you don't know what to make from him anymore.

you stand up slowly, backing away step by step, "you don't want to run." the man says, and that was enough to stops you in your tracks, then you became aware of your surroundings, the four men were ready to pull their gun out at any given moment, and the one in front of you is eerily calm.

but you weren't going to give up to your cruel fate, as a last chance attempt, you pick up an ashry that was on the table, then you turn around, wanting to make this a hit and run, but suddenly, everything seemed to come to a stop, the ashry fall from your hand, there's a sharp pain in your shoulder, it was intense but at the same time it wasn't feelable, then everything faded away when you feel yourself fall down.

the throbbing pain in your shoulder was the first thing you felt when you regained consciousness, you groaned as you open your eyes,you woke up in a room,normal room, and it was too bright that you had a few minuted to adjust to it.

everything was foreign, you felt out of place..

you try to sit up, but the pain in your shoulder prevented you so, and then the memories of the bar all came back to you, the encounter with the mafia there, and your try to escape.

you lift your head up, looking around slowly, then with a loud breath you put it back in disappointment, seems like they caught you, you don't have the strength to even panic right now, giving up to your fate will be much easier.

when your head cleared you realized that you were lying down on a bed, it's softeness was something you didn't feel in a long time,but you don't think it's time to fee relieved yet, since you don't know when things could turn to the worst.

you don't know how much time passed until someone came to the room,you still can't sit up straight so you just kept lying down, looking at the door intensely, but then to your surprise a nurse has come in following by a man behind her, why are they even taking the time to take care of you? when it's clear by now that no one will ask about you again.

when the nurse saw you awak she let out an `oh` in surprise, she walked to you, settled her kit on the table next to your head, which you only see it now.

"I'm surprised, with this wound to wake up in a span of two days is really impressive, you have such a strong body." she said, her voice was silky, comforting.

you only nod in her direction, not feeling like talking right now, then you move your attention to the man standing by the door,he seem to be one of them but he didn't do any move or sound yet so you didn't give a mind to him as you again shift your attention back to the nurse who was getting her tools ready.

she changed your bandages and gave you some instructions to keep the wound closed, it was quick and in minutes you were alone again.

you let out a sigh, thinking about all the things that happened in these past few days,who knew you'll be unlucky enough to get in this mess, but again you were unlucky all your life, it shouldn't be a surprise,you felt like crying, but nothing came out, only silence and a bunch of memories.

Your chain of memories was interrupted when the door opened again, this time there stood the man who found you in the bar and behind him the one who was in the destroyed place that you were held hostage in.

you didn't have the strength to panic or anything, but you were afraid, and so much, especially from the one in the front, he seem to have something really creepy about him,something makes you don't want to look at him directly, he came to your side on the bed, and the other stayed by the door.

"i thought I'd visit you personally since my men were too dense to let you escape." like the first time you met him, his voice held no emotion at all, it's like he's just a monster without human basic things.

you gathered your strength to speak, nothing you'll say matter anymore to you "it's clear now that no one will ask or care about where am i, you won't gain anything from keeping me here." you spoke in a low voice, it wasn't your intention, but his aura makes you respect him uncontrollably.

he sat down on a chair, which again you only see now, then he lit up a cigarette and start smoking without saying anything in return, instead the man by the door speak.

"boss have thought of another use to you, you see, managing to escape from our men, and hiding for a day without being spotted has really impressed him,and so we searched for information on you, and your skill with computer plus sneaking will be of use to us." his tone was professional, not like the one before where he was speaking arrogantly.

`he's the boss then? ` you think, then you look at him, when he look back at you, you avert your gaze quickly, he was scary and it's not a joke.

"what do i make out of this?" you shift your attention back to the one by the door, your voice still uncontrollably low.

"you'll join us." he says, matter of a fact.

your eyes widen in surprise, and you stayed silent for five to ten minutes, debating how did it even come to here? you? with a mafia? but then hey...isn't it better than getting killed?

"that's too generous from the boss, you don't need that much time to accept." the one by the door speaks, his tone was impatient and a bit irritated.

"veto." the boss said in a scolding tone.

"sorry." he was quick to apologize, he seem to respect the boss alot, and it appear that his name is `veto`.

"I'll do it." you say without wavering, your voice gets a little bit higher.

maybe giving up to your fate isn't that bad.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine | jjk | "... the whispers..."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

We broke all the pieces but still want to play the game. This confrontation is long overdue and is either going to end in handcuffs or tangled limbs.

part i | this is part ii | part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; things are thrown during a public altercation; second chance romance?; angst and fluff and feels; Jungkook's POV

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; a few cameos you can speculate on and one named cameo hehe; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

whether I'm gonna be your wife or gonna smash up your bike, I haven't decided yet but I'm gonna get you back – imgonnagetyouback by taylor swift

It was a night just like any other night, which meant Jeon Jungkook was somewhere doing something because he was someone. On this night he was visiting a new upscale nightclub owned by one of his close friends, which was why he was at a table surrounded by his bros, expensive bottles of alcohol, and beautiful women. Not his scene, really. He was an introvert at heart. Despite that, he had obligations to be here. Obligations to laugh, to jest, to be merry, to be somebody.

But he knew he was just a somebody surrounded by much better bodies.

So, really, he was only a ghost.

“Hey, isn’t that…?”

It was luck and good friends that got him in the position he was in now. Jungkook knew that. He couldn’t complain too much when they invited him out. After all, they were only doing it because they cared about him. Yeah.

“She's really staring at you, man.”

Someone nudged his arm. For a moment, he didn’t comprehend that it was him that was being spoken to. Maybe it was the heavy black leather jacket. Underneath, he wore a tight white tank, and completed his outfit with studded charcoal-wash jeans and black leather boots. Nice, sure, but there were other men that much more sharply dressed with bigger designer labels. Of course, he cleaned up well with his slicked-back black hair and clean-shaven jawline. So did any other male model out there. He was not so egotistical to think he was the most interesting man there.

“Hmph, who?” he snickered, swinging around in his chair with the ice in his glass clinking. He would figure out who everyone was talking about from the reactions of the public. He snapped his head around, stray tendrils of black falling free onto his forehead, obscuring his vision for a split second, and then he faced the crowd beneath the VIP tables.

Time slowed.

The club was loud. Very loud, due to the deafening combination of music, chatter and laughter. It was lit with the imperfect balance of light and dark, oscillating spotlights exposing corners and weaving through moving bodies clad in fitted dresses, high heels, tailored blazers, suit pants. The alcohol was high-grade. The crowd was cherry-picked and pre-screened at the door. It was what it was. Individuals who had money blowing money, ignoring the sins around them to commit their own. It was hard to pick out someone.

But Jungkook saw her right away.

The club became quiet from his point of view. Sound became a mishmash of muffled, incoherent noises fading to the background as the faces blurred. The music dulled. All lights dimmed except in one area. Everything was still moving, still thriving, still breathing yet he was only aware of one single person.

His ex-girlfriend stared right at him from below.

Even from this distance he could feel the blades in her gaze.

Black patent leather jacket. Very short, cut just under the breasts. Black lace corset, see-through except for the cups. Skintight lilac miniskirt. Legs for days. Pointed-toe black pumps with a thin ankle strap, the kind he had trouble with due to the small delicate buckle.

He tried to breathe but the air was like concrete in his lungs.

She tilted her head, narrowing her smoked-out eyes. Her lips were glossy crimson, cool-toned to match the palette of her outfit. Her hair had been pinned up, exposing her graceful neck and glimmering collarbones.

She began to walk through the crowd.

Jungkook spun around and suddenly all the sound roared back, intense and thunderingly hostile. He winced, clutching his drink and holding the side of his head, trying to make sense of it all.

“Tch, why is she here?”

“Right? She doesn’t belong here.”

“She can be wherever she wants to be,” replied a calm, deep voice.

He could hear voices around him talking but it wasn’t making any sense. How? Why? Was he seeing things? And why did it matter? It didn’t. It didn’t. He took another sip of his glass and found it bitter and tasteless. Maybe that was in his head too. It didn’t matter if she was here. Someone was tugging on his arm. He pulled himself free, snapping his hand down onto the table.

The world crashed back into place as his drink sloshed and spat out from his force.

A startled feminine gasp.

The calm, deep voice returned. “You okay, man?”

Jungkook jerked his head up and saw Kim Taehyung carefully surveying him. He was a man with strong, masculine features and a comforting baritone voice that reminded one of cozy winters and romantic nights. Out of all his friends, they were the closest in age. However, Taehyung was more than a year older and a much more seasoned veteran of the modeling industry. He had been scouted at a very young age, quickly learning the ins-and-outs without losing who he was. He was grounded, easygoing, and never had a crack in his composure. At least, that was how Jungkook thought of him.

Taehyung raised a dark eyebrow, repeating his question without saying a word.

“I’m fine,” Jungkook scowled, then controlled his face a bit better. “What?”

Those dark, moody eyes served him a dose of silent judgement as one of the girls at the table spoke up again.

“Oooh, she’s sitting down at a table.”

He told himself not to look. It didn’t matter if she was here. And yet his head moved on its own, pivoting to the left so fast he almost had whiplash. At high-end clubs like this, there were tables available depending on to how much a patron spent. The larger tables had to be paid for in advance to be secured a space. Such reservations were violently expensive, signaling VIP status. A lot of the smaller tables on the lower level were occupied. The more exclusive tables were higher up, needing stairs to access the higher tiers. A waiter was holding her hand, carefully guiding his ex-girlfriend up the stairs to an empty round table that typically seated ten.

There was no one else at the table.

She sat down at the seat closest to overlooking the club.

“She can afford that?”

A crackling laugh. “Doubt it.”

“Who are you to say what she can’t afford?” Taehyung cut in sharply in a disapproving tone.

“O-Oh, well… It’s just not that common, you know.”

The chittering was from the women they had invited to the table earlier. Shit, their presence seemed so frivolous and annoying now. Jungkook had half a mind to turn around and glare at them. Instead, he was transfixed by the woman in patent leather and tight lilac. She crossed her legs, smoothed her skirt, and leaned back in her chair, scanning the crowd. A waiter came back and brought a bucket of ice with a champagne bottle and accompanying flutes. A waitress came by with another bottle. Porcelain, with painted flue floral design, and placed two crystal glasses onto the table. His former lover smiled at them, nodding. They bowed and took their leave after serving her.

Instead of touching the drinks, the woman turned her body and locked her icy stare right on him.

Jungkook stiffened and turned away quickly, feeling his body running hot. The table was still talking, but it was behind hands and feigned disinterest. Taehyung sighed, shaking his head. Of course, there had been other friends at the table too. Only now did Jungkook notice that they were missing. Must have wandered off. At the very least, their host Kim Seokjin would definitely be gone for a while. He was an affluent actor, model, and owner of several establishments, including this luxury nightclub. Eventually the tall, broad-shouldered man would return to see them off, but there was no telling when.

“Did you know she was gonna be here?” Jungkook hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the odd looks he was getting from the women. They still lingered for the free drinks which Taehyung kept supplied. No sense in wasting Seokjin’s endless tab after all.

Taehyung frowned. “I don’t police people’s actions. Does it matter what she does?”

Jungkook scoffed. “Oh, so this wasn’t your idea?”

Those normally warm brown eyes turned cold. “It wasn’t. Besides, she’s no longer your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, she’s definitely not.”

A growl collected in Jungkook’s throat and he was about to let it loose. He swiveled his head again only for the sound to die before it began. A man was standing by her table. He was sharply dressed in a suit and tie, with tied-back bleached-blond hair that laid over his shoulders. He had a pleasant decorum and a smile like a predatory feline. She gestured him to sit down and poured him a drink as invitation. He watched in horror as his ex-girlfriend chatted up a beautiful stranger.

He didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or run over there to flip the table.

A low voice cut through his thoughts.

“Wasn’t the breakup amicable?”

He froze.

Slowly, Jungkook faced Taehyung, his long-time friend. He never really could bring himself to fully lie to those piercing dark orbs, now reflecting the same reserved gaze that Taehyung had given him when Jungkook provided the same flimsy excuse he was once again repeating.

“I… It wasn’t meant to be,” Jungkook mumbled once more. “The traveling… it was too much for us.”

The older male was too good at reading between the lines, especially when it came to romance, his forte. “Hm.” He knew when he wasn’t getting the full story. “It’s probably too late to ask now, but was it what you wanted?”

Jungkook couldn’t help it.

“It was…”

He looked over his shoulder again.

“… What I deserved.”

She was thanking the blond-haired man. He bowed ninety degrees and leaned in, whispering something in her ear before leaving the table. His glass was empty. Someone else was approaching the table. A pretty woman with long black hair in a white minidress and short, pearl-white nails sat down, bowing lightly and introducing herself. His ex-girlfriend offered between the two drinks and the pretty woman chose the champagne. A waiter came over to uncork it for them, pouring a healthy amount into the two flutes.

They two chatted, immediately absorbed with each other.

“For a guy naturally talented at a lot of things, you’re such a stupid idiot.”

He was.

Wait.

Jungkook scowled, turning back to a disapproving Taehyung cradling a small ceramic cup. It was hand-painted with the smallest of brushstrokes, depicting a flock of black birds disappearing into the white sky. He took a sip with a gruff sigh, making a tense face. He was a wine guy, but he couldn’t turn down traditional Korean alcohol. That would be uncouth.

“How long are you going to continue moping?” Taehyung scoffed.

“I’m not moping,” Jungkook countered, hunched over the table and gripping his whiskey glass a little too hard.

“You are convincing no one. Least of all me.”

His eyes flickered upward, glaring. Taehyung remained refined, unperturbed, nearly prince-like in his half-open floral-and-forest-green silk shirt and ruffled hair. A black-brown curl perfectly grazed one of his eyebrows, accenting his condescending look with a dash of softness.

“Did you ever realize how much she did for you?”

Jungkook pushed away his glass. He couldn’t reply. He stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying not to feel. It was only then that he noticed that the table was strangely silent despite the fervor of the environment – the women had made themselves scarce, understanding that this conversation was much too serious for their girlypop night.

Finally, he forced himself to speak. “For me? I take care of myself.”

Taehyung winced. Hard. “You cannot be serious right now.”

Another peek behind him. A different man at her table now. Silvery-blonde hair, tan skin, muscular like a godly titan. She caught him looking and stared directly back. Jungkook cursed under his breath. “What did she do then? Hm? Enlighten me.” His voice was becoming rougher, slipping out of his practiced Seoul dialect and into his Busan dialect. The broad-shouldered man at the table had no suit jacket. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up. He must have noticed her lack of attention, because he began to turn around as well.

Jungkook jerked away before they could lock eyes too.

“Look, I don’t know what happened between you two,” Taehyung exhaled, not quite annoyed but getting there. “But I know you were the one that was wrong.”

Yeah, right.

“Never once did she complain about you. Never once did she butt into your business and cause you trouble when she could have. Never once did she talk behind your back when we both know damn well that you’re no saint, Jeon Jungkook.”

His tattooed hand against the table balled up into a fist, the familiar ache in his chest splitting, threatening.

Unintimidated, Taehyung continued. “The travelling was rough? Of course, it is. And there are probably a thousand ways to make it up to someone you love, but instead now I’m looking at you sitting here and her sitting there, pretending to be strangers. Tells me a whole lot about how that worked out.” His natural Daegu satoori was becoming more evident during his tirade. Taehyung wasn’t trying to be polite, though.

“You don’t know anything,” Jungkook retorted.

“I don’t.” Those dark brown eyes burned hot, scrutinizing him and tearing him apart. “And I don’t need to. Your hostility is telling me everything.”

“It was you,” Jungkook snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. “You invited her here.”

Taehyung’s low voice became lower, more accusatory. “Go ahead. Keep deflecting. Run back home and hide. That’s what you want to do, right?” His gaze narrowed and Taehyung’s normally friendly warmth morphed into scalding heat. “You heard what they said. She doesn’t belong here. And yet, here she is. They all talked and gossiped and badmouthed her, right to your face even, and yet you said nothing. You still don’t have the fucking balls, man. You didn’t respect her for all she was. In spite of that, she stood beside you, head held high, until you tossed her away. You brought her into this world, you ripped her out of it, and guess what? She is here. She holds her own. You deluded yourself into thinking she needed you. But she doesn’t, and it’s the other way around.”

Jungkook shot up out of his seat, nearly knocking the chair over. He was breathing hard, his furious anger so violent that it clawed at his insides, and Taehyung tilted his head, mirroring the expression of an adult tiger observing a foolish cub.

“You’re wrong,” Jungkook gritted out between clenched teeth. “You’re fucking wrong.”

He… No. She did this. This was her fault. She was the one that always pushed him to go for what he wanted. She was the one who always helped him make it work. Last minute changes happened often early in his career and she always smiled at him and told him to go, to run, to chase those adventures. And she always waited for him to come home.

“I wasn’t like that.”

In the middle of dinners for two. In vacations cut short. In forgotten special dates. Go. She always waited for him to come home. He couldn’t be blamed for that. Those were all her own decisions. He just had to do what he had to do, didn’t he? He couldn’t be blamed for doing what he thought was best. He couldn’t be blamed for trying his best. This dull ache created from a thousand cuts was not made from his own hand.

Right?

“You’re hopeless.” Taehyung slumped back in his chair and sighed. “Do as you wish.”

He wasn’t the person Taehyung was saying he was.

If he was, then…

No.

Jungkook whipped around and locked his eyes to the table, walking determinedly up to it.

There was a different man sitting there now. A very tall one with very short hair, violate energy, and a striking profile, deeply engaged in conversation with his ex-girlfriend. Currently laughing bashfully at something she must have said. The stranger was wearing a crisp black dress shirt with the first few buttons undone and well-tailored black slacks. Jungkook wanted to punch him in his very handsome face. He didn’t care that the man’s shoulders and arms were so built that they were nearly bursting the seams of his dress shirt, nor did he care that starting a fight right now would do absolutely nothing except get him thrown out in handcuffs.

Jungkook wanted to kill him.

Her eyes took a moment to shift from the very handsome stranger to him.

It hurt.

It really fucking hurt.

He glared back. Her gaze was not as heated, nor did it hold the same ice she had during their last conversation way back then. There was a completely different mix of emotions conveyed now. Almost disconnected, lonely, and loathing all at once, the last not directed at him but at herself.

As if she didn’t want to care but did and hated herself for it.

It wasn’t who she was at all, and Jungkook hated himself for doing this to her.

“Dude, I’m going to need you to get lost.”

Startled, the seated man turned his head to see Jungkook giving him a death stare. He hated seeing the puppy-like expression on such a masculine-looking man, not because he looked down on that but because it was a genuine, adorable reaction that couldn’t be faked.

She probably liked that.

She probably deserved that.

Jungkook was determined to ruin this too. Why the fuck not?

The man looked confused, and then irritated. “Uh… Look, I don’t know what your problem is, but I don’t think you belong here.” He had a commanding, stern tone. He shifted in his seat, halfway to rising. “This conversation doesn’t include you.”

“No, this conversation doesn’t include you,” Jungkook snapped, glancing at her. His ex-girlfriend did nothing but raise an eyebrow at him, her arms crossed under her breasts. “Fuck off.”

The man in the black dress shirt began to stand, brows furrowing. “Hey, I’m going to have to ask you to leave–”

“Excuse me.”

She stood up.

From this distance, Jungkook could fully take in how the smoke-grey eyeshadow accentuated the shape of her eyes, making them more prominent and intense. The lights caught the glow of her skin and the vividness of the scarlet of her lips, giving her an ethereal, untouchable demeanor. Loose layers of her hair framed her face despite the majority of it being pinned up, casting cold, dark shadows around the hot radiance of her gaze.

“I’m sorry to cut our conversation short, but I think it’s best if you give us a moment,” she said politely to the tall stranger while bowing. “I was enchanted to meet you tonight, Kim Mingyu.”

A pink flush dusted over the man’s cheeks. This motherfucker had the audacity to be flustered. Jungkook still wanted to punch him in the face. Maybe more now than before.

“O… Oh… Um. Alright.” He glanced between Jungkook and her. “Will you be okay?”

She smiled, maintaining confident eye contact with the stranger. “Let’s not assume the worst of people. And… Your words have given me courage. I thank you.”

It took everything in Jungkook not to trip the guy on his very expensive designer shoes as he hastily bowed and took his leave, offering an awkward half-wave before backing away. She raised a hand back, not looking away even when he turned around.

And then.

Quiet.

At least as quiet as a loud nightclub could be. But it all became background noise in the face of loaded silence. The safety off now. The bass faded into heartbeats as she raised her eyes and, once again, they faced each other across the table. Jungkook stood with his hands balled up into fists in the pockets of his leather jacket. His former lover stood with her hands in front of her. She was still the most beautiful, graceful, and collected woman that he had ever had the pleasure to know.

“I’m…”

And he missed her so, so much.

“I’m sorry.”

So fucking much.

Her eyes flickered down in a pause, and then back up. “It really doesn’t matter anymore. The past is in the past.”

Her name on his lips felt foreign and familiar all at once. She didn’t react. It was as if he had said nothing at all. He said it again, almost with an edge of panic, and she closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. He wanted to run to the other side. He wanted to climb on top of the table and grab her hands and tell her it was going to be okay, that he was going to be better, that she was the love of his life and that he could be hers too, please, if only he had a chance. Instead, he stayed where he was, frozen in place, trying not to do the wrong thing even though everything about this scene and script was all wrong.

Her eyes opened in a resigned, resolute flutter.

“Do you think saying sorry takes back everything you’ve done?” she asked in a measured tone.

He pulled his hands out of his jacket, shaking his head. “No. No, of course not. I… You didn’t give me a chance to apologize, and I–”

“Apologize for what?” she coldly interrupted.

“W-Well… For… everything, really.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You don’t know.”

Jungkook blinked hard, trying to banish his tears. “Know?” he echoed.

“You don’t even know what you’re apologizing for.” Her words were sharpened steel, cutting right through him.

“I do,” he insisted. “For all the times I left during dinner, for all the times I’ve left during our scheduled time together, for forgetting your birthday, anniversary–”

“For the blatant disrespect,” she interrupted, her hands separating, those intense eyes narrowing. “For always believing I could fend for myself when you got swept up during work events. For contacting me not to talk about my day, but to interrogate me on what I was doing. For not believing me and asking me to send photos every time I was out somewhere.”

He sputtered, taken aback. “That wasn’t… Those things–”

“For always knowing I understood your position and taking it for granted.” Her glare was like daggers, cutting through all the lies he told himself. “And yet never understanding mine. Never believing in the love I had for you.”

“I did believe!”

“And so you accused me of lying?” she shot back, scathing him. “I have never done anything to make you believe I was disloyal to you, but I was five minutes late to a date and suddenly I need to be lying? Suddenly that was a sign of my nefarious plans? Suddenly I’m the bad guy that needs to be backed into a corner? Suddenly I must beg on my knees to soothe your feelings?”

“I didn’t ask for that,” he retorted. “I just asked why you didn’t text that you were late.”

“I don’t need to repeat what I said then,” she growled, bristling. She had been five minutes late because of an elderly taxi driver taking his time. “Because it didn’t matter what the reason was for you. I know that now. You were scared. You were insecure. You were nervous that I was beginning to fall out of love with you. You latched onto the first thing I did wrong and blew it out of proportion to force me to grovel to you. You could have asked me directly how I felt. Instead, you decided to play fucking games.”

Jungkook couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

Her hands balled up into fists by her sides. “I was patient. I was understanding. I loved you.” She dug her nails into her palms, clenching her jaw. “But I was not going to let myself be manipulated by your insecurities. I was not about to lose myself to become an extension of you, Jeon Jungkook.”

Past tense.

“You… loved me?”

She might as well have stabbed him right through the heart.

A thundering pause.

Finally, she sighed. Her hands relaxed.

“When I came in here, I didn’t know if I wanted to run to you or slap you.”

She looked around, down at the crowd, up to the lights, to the bar, the tables, the people.

“Before you, all I had was a decent job. Not exciting, but good enough to enjoy the life I wanted. I had loose acquaintances and once-in-a-blue-moon friends. I had mediocre hobbies that I was okay at. Before you, that had been enough. This,” she breathed, indicating the people and the money being flaunted around like water during a rainstorm. “I didn’t know this. I didn’t know how lonely it was to be standing this high. I didn’t know… My acquaintances and few friends saw the life you gave me and faded away, no longer relating to the extravagance I was exposed to. My job became a forbidden topic for the mere crime that it was boring. My hobbies became childish to these refined eyes. Yet… I could live with all that. The life I wanted was the one I had with you. And… it turned out to be miserable.”

For the first time, Jungkook realized how much she lost loving him.

“I was miserable.”

She half-laughed, empty.

“But I loved you.”

Lowered her head.

“And I was so, so damn angry with you.”

She smacked the table with her palm, hard enough to make the people around them flash them a startled look. Her fingers tensed, cherry-red manicure flaring over the wood.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” This was the part Jungkook didn’t understand. His voice rose in both frustration and desperation. “Why didn’t you just blow up on me? Why didn’t you say something?”

“Say what?” she snarled, snapping her head up, each word a bullet tearing through him. “Huh? No, don’t go? How dare you leave me, again? Create the war wounds right before we part? What good does all that do? Make us both upset right before you run off? Because you would anyway. You know you would, because you are stubborn and selfish and always doing what you need to do, putting me at the bottom of the list since I am capable… right? I can handle myself, right?”

He was rounding the table, knocking chairs aside. “You could have been angry at me. You just didn’t want to be!”

“Who wants to be angry? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“What, you were worried that you would no longer be the perfect girlfriend if you weren’t understanding?” he accused.

She looked livid. “Don’t you dare flip my consideration onto me.”

He stopped right in front of her, tension all over his neck and jaw. “It’s your fault too. I can’t change if you act like everything is fine!”

Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? I have to be the one to teach you not to be a fucking selfish prick and think about someone else for a change?” she hissed.

“How am I supposed to know?”

“Of course, you know!”

They were beginning to draw whispers and stunned faces but neither of them was backing down or ashamed enough. Or, perhaps, they were simply completely unaware of the disruption they were causing.

“You knew – no, you still know,” she snarled, jabbing him in the chest with a impeccably manicured finger. “You have never felt like you fit in with these people. That was why you tried so hard. That was why you took every opportunity to be a lapdog. That was why you dated me, because I am not privileged and enabled, that’s why you dragged me into your world and got paranoid when I wasn’t showing the same apprehensions as you, putting me in impossible positions and playing games, when we could have been teamed up against the world, when we could have been yin and yang, but all we were was a pair of damn cowards!”

His eyes went wide.

Fury laced in her helpless expression.

“You could have protected me. All you did was make me throw myself to the wolves to protect you!”

Her hands slammed into his chest and she shoved him, hard. He stumbled back, throwing his right arm out, knocking over a champagne flute and shattering it. Glass exploded onto the floor, delicate shards shooting out and catching the light, scattering into dust beneath designer feet.

People gasped and someone screamed at the unexpected noise.

His left hand reached out and gripped the patent leather sleeve of her jacket. Their gazes locked in shock and comprehension. His lips parted. One of his knees was still bent to steady himself from falling. But before Jungkook could say anything, she squeezed her eyes shut, breaking their connection, and ripped her arm from his grasp.

Then she seized the porcelain bottle with painted blue flowers and threw it onto the floor, shattering that too.

One moment of awful, dazed silence.

The next moment, men in security uniforms swiftly and silently crossed the distance and surrounded them. He was being grabbed and pinned down to the table, metal handcuffs clicked onto his wrists behind his back despite his protests. His jaw dropped when one of the men touched her shoulder and she immediately turned around and slapped him. Instantly, she too was firmly pushed down and also restrained, both of them staring at each other over the surface of the wood, their previously well-styled hair in disarray all over their faces, their eyes wide with the realization of the severity of their public argument.

He couldn’t help but think she looked fucking hot.

Something flickered in her eyes. She recognized his exact thought from their shared look. And his ex-girlfriend burst out laughing at this absurd situation, even as security hoisted them up and dragged them down the stairs. So, fuck it. He couldn’t help it either.

Jungkook started laughing too.

-

“This is your fault, by the way.”

“Feel free to add it to the list of shit I’ve done wrong.”

They were still handcuffed. Both standing a respectful distance away  from each other in the middle of a storeroom crammed with boxes stacked like a cardboard maze. There were no windows. The door was closed and presumably locked. Neither of them had moved towards it. There would be no criminal undercover going on here. They were already in deep enough shit. Adding attempted escape would probably change their current storeroom location into separate jail cells for the night.

They did not look at each other.

Jungkook leaned against the boxes, his hands stuck behind his back. One of the sides of his leather jacket had slipped down, exposing his right shoulder. It was nice, actually, since the previous scuffle had left him rather hot-blooded. He snuck a glance beside him.

His ex-girlfriend’s body was facing the door. The backs of her hands rested on the prominent curve of her ass in that tight lilac skirt, her straight posture making her waist look even smaller. Must be nice to have a built-in shelf. His eye line travelled up to her hair, seeing it half-undone and falling down her neck. Half of the pins were still holding up by sheer luck. The patent leather of her jacket crackled as she adjusted, stretching out her ankle. She was still in her high heels.

“Uncomfortable?” he found himself quietly asking.

“Could be worse,” she answered back, still not turning around.

He waited for her to elaborate.

She didn’t.

The silence was palpable. Somehow not unbearable. He looked back down at his feet, wondering why they had been left here. He half-expected security to escort them off the premises and into a police car, but they had marched them behind the kitchen and told them to stay put and not cause trouble, similarly to how misbehaving kids were put in time-out. Then again, the owner of the club was his affluent friend Kim Seokjin. Perhaps this was a rich people thing. Or an under-the-table thing.

Her voice echoed in his head.

You have never felt like you fit in with these people.

“Hey, uh…” he started, trailing off.

A light sigh.

Then, she shook her head, somewhat vigorously. Some of the hairpins loosened up. “Ugh, my hair is more annoying than anything,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s all messed up.”

Hell yeah, it was, and it was a turn-on, reminding him of after-sex tousling. Jungkook kept his mouth shut. Not the right time for that. He chewed on his lower lip, wondering if he could do anything. Wondering if he should do anything. She still hadn’t turned around.

So, he did.

He turned around, bent down slightly, and tried to reach up. The angle was difficult. Not high enough either. His leather sleeves were also constricting his movement and making loud creaking sounds. He looked back, trying to reach up with a grunt, and she stiffened, swinging her head around. He froze in an awkward position. She stared at him.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

He blinked back. “Um… I… I was trying to help…?”

Her eyebrow raised. “By… doing yoga?”

He let out an impatient huff. “No, I’m trying to help you take the pins out of your hair,” Jungkook clarified, straightening with a frustrated shake of his body. “It’s bothering you, isn’t it? But I’m not flexible enough and you’re too tall in your heels.”

She paused. He looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed for even trying. Who was he to think that he could do something like that? Hah. His hands tightened behind him. They weren’t close like that anymore. They weren’t even friends.

He felt a sting in his heart remembering that.

“Sorry… I should have asked if you wanted the help at all.”

He exhaled heavily.

Stillness.

Then he heard the crack of patent leather and raised his head to see her squat down, lowering one knee to the concrete floor, her back perfectly straight and her head at his waist height. She was facing the door again so he couldn’t see her expression.

“If… Well, it would be helpful if you could… If you could remove the hairpins,” she mumbled, keeping her head up. “Please.”

He gawked at her kneeled form, unmoving.

His heartbeat accelerated.

“Um… if you’re going to do it, faster would be better,” she added hesitantly with placed-in chuckle. “I don’t know how long I can keep my balance in these shoes.”

His cheeks burned. “Uh, yeah, s-sorry. I’m on it.”

The metal handcuffs clinked as he moved. He turned around and backed up a bit, reaching out to feel for her hair. Sucked in a quiet breath as his fingers grazed the soft strands, memories of stolen nights drifting back to him. He swallowed hard and bit his lip, using touch to search for the hairpins, and then loosening them as gently as he could. One by one. He tried to tuck them in his palm as he continued. Sometimes he would need to rest one hand on her head and use the other to pull them out slowly and carefully. She said nothing, tilting her head slightly as he made his way around. He felt his way along her scalp, running his fingers through her hair, remembering the familiar scent he could detect when he used to breathe it in, remembering his hands holding her head as he used to lean in and kiss her, remembering that he had lost all of that now.

Jungkook lowered his chin, letting out a soundless cry.

“You liked my hair down, I recall,” she commented behind him, her soothing voice mirroring the rolling tide late at night.

“Y… Yeah.”

He smiled despite himself. He pulled back his handcuffed hands.

“You have lovely hair. I don’t like seeing it all tucked away.”

For a moment, there was a quietness as those words sank in. She shifted, and he heard her stand up, the sharp click of her heels indicating as much, but he kept his back to her, unsure if this was the last time he would touch her hair. The last time he hadn’t known it would be the last, so he didn’t mourn the moment until way later, but this time…

“Thank you.”

He breathed in through his nose. Oddly stuffy in here.

“Y… You’re welcome.”

He wished he could take it all back, but he couldn’t. He wished he could prove he was a better man, but he didn’t know how or even if he could. She was right. He had gotten swept up in his ambitions and the superficial relationships. He had been afraid. He had let that fear control him because he had felt out of sorts with who he was, who he was becoming, and who he wanted to be.

“I really… I really am sorry.”

They were back-to-back. Not touching. Just close enough to feel each other’s presence without seeing them. Hands behind their backs, staring in opposite directions but finally seeing the path before them.

“I know.”

She let out a soft breath.

“I wished for the way I felt to change once I could accept your apologies, but,” she whispered. “Life isn’t that simple or clear cut.”

His chest ached. “Yeah.” It didn’t matter if his actions had unintentional consequences. The consequences still existed. “You’re right. About it all. About the person I became and how I treated you because of it. About how this was because of me feeling like I don’t fit in.”

She didn’t say anything, yet Jungkook could sense her acknowledgment. He couldn’t really explain why he knew. Maybe it had something to do with their current circumstances.

“I keep trying and I… I don’t know. Maybe I’m too simple-minded. Maybe I can’t understand the world these people live in. I mean, my friends seem like normal people but there are still moments where I catch myself thinking, I wouldn’t have thought to do or say that. I feel so… disconnected, sometimes. Meaningless. Maybe I’m not worth a damn to them.”

He was rambling, slipping between his refined dialect and his Busan satoori. He caught himself, about to correct his wording.

“You don’t have to be like the people around you to fit in,” she chided.

He stopped trying to form a sentence and listened.

“You don’t listen. That has always been your strength. Your charm is your natural character with the added spice of rebellion.” Her chuckle lightened, making his heart tighten and feel like exploding at the same time. “Your talent has always been bravely walking your own path, confusing as it may be. There is a pureness in that. You have friends because they want to protect that part of you. Haven’t you noticed? Your friends have never asked you to change or be like them. They just accept you for how you are and push away people who try to mold you into their vision.”

His friends? Well, true, they were the main reasons for him getting the jobs he got. He had always felt somewhat inadequate, realizing his success was from seniors in the industry helping him out. They all told him that this was how it worked. They all told him to do well so he could get more opportunities. It was part of the reason that he felt that he couldn’t let those connections down. He had always felt that he couldn’t refuse.

“Your friends have always been on your side. They don’t want you to be like them. They want you to stay as you are. You mean that much to those around you.”

But perhaps he had been wrong all along.

“Only you thought you needed to change.”

There was probably a lot of sound outside, but the distracting racket was inaudible from the distant storeroom. Her quiet voice amplified her words in this slice of stillness. There something stricken and bitter haunting the air between them as the revelation settled.

He clutched her hairpins in his fist.

“I didn’t… I didn’t date you just because you weren’t part of this vapid world I’m in.”

He wanted her to know.

“I wish…”

The tears stung the corners of his eyes. He refused to let them go. Jungkook looked up to the ceiling, taking in each breath as steadily as he could. He felt like he was drowning, except instead of water, it was all the things he never said.

“I wish I could have been strong enough for you to be angry at me sooner. Tonight, I realized… It was my own shortcomings that made you stay quiet.” He chuckled dryly in admiration. “You endured more than I ever could. More than anyone should.” He didn’t know if he was making any sense but he kept on going. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so mad. That was the most emotion I’ve ever seen from you. You must have spent a lot of nights… feeling so alone because of my selfishness.”

This was not a romantic setting at all. They were stuck in a storeroom with no windows, surrounded by boxes, handcuffed for being a public disruption, for being too dramatic and too emotional. Neither of them could look at the other. A disaster in every sense of the world.

But.

Maybe this was the most honest moment they had ever shared.

Her laugh simmered behind him.

“I’m sorry for losing my shit.”

He half-smiled in rueful relief.

“It wasn’t so bad. Low-key kinda hot. I almost lost the plot at times.”

She laughed under her breath. “You don’t mean that.”

A single heartbeat of silence.

“I kinda do,” he admitted, feeling the upturned corners of his lips falter.

It became quiet once more. An embarrassed quiet, but maybe only on his side. Jungkook still couldn’t bring himself to turn around and find out. He shifted awkwardly, realizing he was still holding her hairpins in his hand. Uh. Well, he couldn’t exactly ask her to put them in her pocket. Did she even have any pockets with that outfit? He furrowed his brows, thinking about that tight skirt and lace corset. Doubtful there would be any pockets in such fitted clothing. Maybe in her jacket, but it was so short that he would basically have to reach for her tits to…

His face heated slightly realizing that he was heavily focusing on her body right now.

Click.

He didn’t really register the sound behind him at first. It sounded like something falling onto the concrete. There was another sharp tapping sound, but before he could shift and twist his body to see, he felt her fingertips brush against the knuckles of his fist.

“I’m sorry too.”

He was too shocked to even move or react. Just stood there wide-eyed, struck by the lightning of her touch, realizing they were that close and that it was her who initiated that.

“I should have brought up the little things that bothered me. I shouldn’t have let it snowball simply because I thought it would make your life easier. I should have tried to remind you not to be intimidated by those around you,” she sighed heavily. “And I should have believed in your apology more than I did.”

The pads of her fingertips stilled.

One by one, they lost contact.

Jungkook dropped all the hairpins on the floor in a cascade of metal raindrops.

He reached back and grabbed her hand, gripping her fingers tightly, gasping as he felt her cool skin against his warmth. He felt her initial rise of reluctance, however, she did not pull away. Their handcuffs clinked against each other, the chains colliding. He scrambled to reach a little higher. Grasping her hand in his. Her right in his right. He tried to say something. Something romantic, something reassuring, something self-derogatory even.

But nothing come out.

He tried to breathe and was choked by inner tears. Tried again, shaking, trying to be silent. Her fingers curled around the back of his hand and laid there. She gave him a light squeeze.

“Don’t worry.”

Her calming voice a dream on this night.

“I’m here.”

They held hands.

It must have been only for a short while. It felt like forever packed in minutes. He inhaled deeply, catching fleeting traces of her sweet and sultry perfume. Closed his eyes with an exhale. Another inhale, slower this time. Maybe this was futile. Maybe this was objectively wildly inappropriate. Maybe he was the fucking worst, wishing, hoping they could reset to something new. All of this could crash and burn.

Or.

Or, maybe.

He swallowed tightly. Leaned back just a little. Their shoulder blades touched. A moment of suspended anticipation. She leaned back against him. The backs of their heads didn’t yet touch. He felt her hair on his neck. It was only the tops of their backs that touched, but now there was only centimeters of trembling air between them.

“Are you cold?” he asked, his voice rough and nervous.

“Only a little.” Her thumb brushed against the side of his palm. “I’ll be alright.”

Yeah, he knew that. “You’re the most capable person I know.”

She sighed. “It’s not all sunshine and roses.”

He scrunched up his face in search for the words. “Well… You suit moonlight and thorns more.”

She nearly snorted. He felt her shoulders shake in silent laughter. He winced, thinking he said something wrong.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“I like those better, anyway!” He blurted it out quickly. Maybe too quickly, curling a bit in on himself once he realized what he said, cringing, but she tugged on his hand ever so slightly. It was obvious she was shaking her head from her hair swishing over his neck.

“You always had a thirst for danger, Jungkook.”

Her tone was slight and playful. He felt his cheeks burn and his heart race so hard that he almost couldn’t breathe from the pressure. Nearly stuttered when he heard his name in her voice, clenching his jaw shut so he didn’t make a fool of himself. Again. His entire body tensed, on edge and vibrating from the rush of emotions.

“Are you trying to break my hand?”

He was gripping her hand way too tight. “S-Sorry!” He loosened his stiff fingers, twisting his wrist to keep his hand cupped around hers. “Sorry…”

“Heh, it’s not like you to apologize,” she teased.

Jungkook furrowed his brows. “Hey...”

Her head laid against his shoulder.

He stilled, heartbeat pounding. She looked up at the ceiling. At least, he presumed that from the angle. The back of her head touched his left shoulder, just barely. Her hair spilled against his collarbone and back, messy and free.

“I bet you have somebody. You’re too good-looking to have nobody lined up.”

Her murmur was soft and resigned. Guilty.

Her words hung in the air.

He tipped his head back, the nape of his neck against her shoulder. The patent leather of her jacket squeaked loudly under his presence. He wished. He hoped. He…

“I have someone,” he confessed.

He squeezed her hand. Their faces tilted upwards to the ceiling, and still Jungkook could recall every detail of her eyes – the way they glimmered when she smiled, the way they sparked when she was serious, the way they twinkled during all their special moments, the way they hollowed out when she turned away from him.

His fingers gently separated hers, interlocking.

The words were at the tip of his tongue.

His lips parted.

Suddenly there were loud footsteps on the other side of the heavy wood door. His ex-girlfriend jerked up in alarm. Jungkook stumbled. Both of them quickly sprang away from each other as the noisy jangle of keys was heard and then the heavy door swung open, revealing the two of them standing there, tense, now staring wide-eyed at a tall, broad-shouldered man flanked by two security guards. His black hair was perfectly parted, half brushing against his forehead and half combed back, giving a corporate feel in his tailored black suit. He was strikingly handsome by all accounts. Intense dark brown eyes, sculpted brows, full lips, stunning jawline.

Kim Seokjin wore an exasperated, annoyed expression.

He ticked his head to Jeon Jungkook’s ex-girlfriend.

“You. Come with me.”

She hesitated for a second and stepped forward, hanging her head a bit. “I sincerely apologize for the trouble I’ve caused.”

It would be expected for such a stern, posh-looking man to be harsh. Instead, Seokjin stuck his fists by his waist and sighed loudly, similarly to a disappointed grandmother scolding her favorite child.

“Haaah… come on. You’re not going to jail. I want to talk to you alone. Hey, uncuff her,” the owner of the nightclub tutted. One of the security guards went around her to unlock the handcuffs. “It took me a while to handle everything out there. At least the incident won’t be on the news or anything.” He reached out and held her elbow as she was released, steadying her balance and leading her out of the room. The guards followed, not taking a second glance back.

Jungkook frowned. “Hey, hyung–”

Seokjin whipped up and pointed a finger at him. “No. You stay here.”

Jungkook balked, offended. “What?! What about me?”

The older man glared at him like he was the naughty child. “I’ll have a conversation with you after. Stay.”

Anger boiled high. “I’m not a dog!”

Offensively, Seokjin barked back with, “You’re right. Dogs are loyal. And want to listen to people. You have the listening skills of a straw. In one end and out the other.”

The door slammed shut with finality.

Jungkook stood there, speechless, gawking at the sheer audacity.

Then he kicked the floor with a roar of impatience once Kim Seokjin’s insult finally registered. What the hell! Kim Seokjin was the one to invite him here in the first place! Seokjin was the oldest of Jungkook’s friends that took him under his wing, teaching him about various business aspects behind the scenes and making sure Jungkook knew the importance of having a good lawyer to look over his contracts. Now Seokjin had him locked up as if he was a five-year-old receiving a time out! Who did he think he was, his disciplinarian?

“What the fuck?!”

Then Jungkook ceased all movement, no longer stomping around in circles.

It was him.

Kim Seokjin had invited him here tonight.

It was him. Kim Seokjin had told him he better get his ass over here on this night in particular if he knew what was good for him. Not unusual, as his friends usually had to threaten him to go outside these days. It was you. You invited her here. It wasn’t Taehyung who invited her. He had been telling the truth all along.

“That bastard.”

Snarling, Jungkook whipped his head to the door and glared at it, fully intending to charge like a goddamn bull right into Kim Seokjin once it opened again.

I, I hear the whispers in your eyes I'll make you wanna think twice you'll find that you were never not mine you're mine

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

--

masterpost

[busytrailblazing]

The Gacha community right now

part 1

As a female gacha fan and an active participant in fandom culture, gacha communities are making me sick right now. This isn't just about "oh this game is better than that game" or "genshin could never" or "wuwa just has girls with big boobs", it's about a polarized community, a split between male and female gacha fans.

Female gacha players had very few options before; for us, it was either playing as girls barely wearing anything or over-designed, poorly funded games that wouldn't last long. Genshin changed that by making attractive male and female characters, having both male and female travelers, interesting backstories, great exploration, and lore crumbs that kept us coming back. Over time, Genshin released less and less male characters, and in all of Natlan, the last actual nation before Szhenaya, we only have one male 5-star, who, by the way, had so little screentime it was silly.

Then wuwa came along and as a 1.0 player i hate where the game has gone, I saw cantarella and i felt so sad, what could have been a complex character will eventually be boiled down to fan service for more money and the company won't stop this pattern anytime soon cuz people will spend a ton of money to pull for her (someone was trying to compare her to Bayonetta but like apples and oranges) and then i took into account the male character drought and realized they were prioritizing their male players first, even the new girl is so poorly designed (in my opinion).

But most of the male fans don't care, they don't care if the characters are becoming caricatures of them selves, if the character has no personality besides a gimmick or even if the story goes no where when it comes to actual character development, why would they care when the main reason some are interested is the flat sex appeal. Examples being a character like Varesa or Citlali. Both had potential but were ruined by fan service. Varesa is a poorly hidden fetish, while Citlali blushes for the traveller over such dumb stuff, you would think it was a fan-made MMD of Ayaka fawning over the traveller.

And what happens when women in the gacha community talk to them abt it? they claim that liking yaoi/bl makes u a gonner and hypocrite, but that wasn't even a part of the convo. The convo is abt the game having more male-adjacent fan service. No one cares if u goon for a character like at all, but liking ship art and yaoi doesn't make you a gooner . they are plunging Gacha back into the male-only/male-centric games. I only ask for at least equality in character release, and that these people realize that simping and shipping are fandom pillars that are usually fanon and not canon. Lastly, I ask the men to understand that just because they are being catered to by these games doesn't mean they should close their eyes to these problems.

if this becomes the new status quo, what we're gonna get is not another Bayonetta but rather another NIKKE (in terms of fan service), we ARE going to lose the plot, we ARE gonna lose old players and lose poteitial players, we ARE gonna have to compete with otome games and dating games for men because at the end of the day, when everything is removed but fanservice it will devolve into nothing but sofcore porn and un reached potential.

Disclaimer: I'm not saying fan service is bad or that having more female characters is bad, I'm saying games advertised as for all audiences shouldn't focus on fan service that would only appeal to male players. Also please consider some of these points as dramatized to put more emphasis on these points the points themselves

[oldphanny]

HOW. WAS. THE. SHOW. ⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️

AAAAHHH Sorry, I did see your asks earlier, but today has been such a blur cause I only went to sleep at 3am, so I've been napping on and off all day and kept forgetting!!

(I'm an old soul that requires 23 hours of sleep a day)

THE SHOW WAS ABSOLUTELY INCREDIBLE!!! Thank you for asking :)

However, the more I read and the more I'm answering questions, the more I'm realising that we were missing a lot of props. And obviously, the entire set!

So I like to lovingly refer to my version of tit as 'Bogan Tit' (thanks australian customs!!)

We were missing:

(Starting off with the ones I noticed from seeing spoilers on here prior to the show)

The set - we got a projection like Brisbane did. I don't know whether the same happened in Brisbane, but a bunch of the videos lagged or didn't play properly at all. Honestly, it just led to funnier moments, like Dan weirdly stomping over to the screen and yelling, "WELL THAT WAS A GREAT VIDEO!!!" When the clips for the tour bus conspiracy didn't play lol

The Golden Pig - I'm guessing the golden pig was supposed to be there but Phil managed to find a Golden Koala piggy bank at Woolies as a replacement (who he declared was named Clint, which Dan side eyed lol)

The Dioramas and Dolls - We had bunnings boxes cut up and with a background printed onto them while the dan and phil dolls were replaced with Obi-wan (Dan) and Goku (Phil). I would have loved to have seen PJ and Sophie's work but, again, it honestly made it funnier to have Obi-wan and Goku 'wrestle'?

Phils Silicone Abs - This was the biggest disappointment for me personally 🥲 I don't know when the Abs were supposed to come out through the whole boxing bit but phil just wore a blue singlet. Sucks but obviously shit happens and that's out of their control. I did have the aisle seat because someone wanted to trade seats so I had both dan and phil fly by me (and Dan collapse on the ground in view of my seat) so I really can't complain too much! I'm pretty sure Phil and I made eye contact for a split second before he sped off at a speed I didnt know was possible for him, so heeeyy I'll take it over the Silicone titties

The screen that gets smashed over dans head at the end of the boxing match/ Confetti- it was an officeworks box cut to look like a screen with like paper as the screen. I don't know whether that was supposed to be a better prop? Everyone around me laughed when the officeworks logo was visible on the side. Also, I'm assuming Confetti was supposed to fall out of it? But nothing really came out besides a bunch that got stuck to dans shoulder when he stood back up, which Phil came over and preened off of him 🥲🥲 Dan later on in the bit shook the boxes aggressively so the confetti did fly out over the stage but I'm assuming that wasn't supposed to happen? I'm not sure if this is the confetti you were referring to or whether there was supposed to be more? I didn't notice any other confetti, so perhaps no?

Phan bucks - I was not close enough to the stage to say whether they were the authentic phan bucks or some form of replacement, but something was sprayed out into the front row with one of those money guns.

Foam Fingers - No, I honestly don't know what you were referring too... which I guess means we missed out 🥲

BUT DESPITE ALL THIS, I LOVED THE SHOW! Clearly, they put a lot of work into making the show still feel seamless, and had I not been a chronic tumblr user, I wouldn't have noticed anything was wrong! They really carried themselves well and I loved Bogan Tit, I wouldn't have had it any other way <3 It kind of makes it more special since our show was slightly different :)

I would be interested to see the full show some day if they do post a recording to know how different it really was, but I'm so happy with my experience!! The audience was fantastic and cheering the entire time, so I hope that easied they're anxiety on not having everything to plan <3

[wisteria-lodge]

hi op!! hope you're doing well. genuine question, but do you think lucius pays his taxes? he makes public donations and associates with the ministry to a rather personal extent that i imagine he at least forks over some to whatever department at the MoM handles taxes but he does strike me as the person who'd at least find ways to evade being taxed (writing off business dealings as personal purchases to avoid getting taxed for them, donating to charity to get a write-off for the money, having some under the table deals so what taxes he has to pay for wiltshire are rather minimized) but what do you think?

Now I'm thinking about how taxes work in the wizarding world.

Okay, so one of the interesting things about HP is that pure-blood wizards are sort of stuck in the 1700s. There are a few aesthetic/fashion details from the 1800s, but in terms of tech level and the way the world is set up, we're still pre-industrial revolution. Which makes sense! The wizards never had an industrial revolution, and split away from the muggle world in the late 1600s.

(Phillip Pullman was also doing a psuedo 1700s-1800s thing for his children's fantasy series at around the same time. Cannot prove that JKR has any knowledge of His Dark Materials, but another English author writing a similar kind of book? Stealth-setting a book in the 1700s isn't such an out-there choice.)

That means a lot of the issues people have with the HP world building are really just issues with... life in the 1700s. Why is there no mental health care? 1700s. Why is the Hogwarts curriculum so weird? 1700s. Why is slavery okay? 1700s. Why is there no drinking age, and you can just purchase drugs (love potion) over the counter? 1700s.

In a similarly 1700s way, the Wizarding World seems to be composed of semi-autonomous fiefdoms, which report back to the Ministry of Magic. On paper, the Ministry has has control over Hogwarts, St. Mungos, the various pure-blood estates. Whether or not that's that's totally true... I mean the Ministry tries and fails to take over Hogwarts in Book 5, and in Book 2 they clearly *try* to prosecute the Malfoys for holding dark contraband, but never get very far.

Here's what I would do, if I were writing something political based in the Harry Potter universe. The Wizengamot seems to be the oldest ruling body (its name is a pun on the Wittengamot, which is from the 7th century.) So probably those seats are inherited (House of Lords style) possibly with a magical component involved. New members can be added, but only by existing members voting them in. The Wizengamot serves as the High Court (as we see - more normal cases are processed by the Council of Magical Law, and Arthur is really wrong-footed when he hears Harry is getting a *Wizengamot* trial.)

They also probably have some sort of pass/veto power, and the power to elect/replace a Minister of Magic. (the position was "offered" to Dumbledore multiple times, but he turned it down. So he's definitely not campaigning in a general election.) I doubt they actually *write* laws - that seems to be handled by the more bureaucratic-flavored Ministry members like Arthur and Percy, who do *not* sit on the Wizengamot.

I'd also have it so that taxes were handled in a more 1700s style. There'd be a lot of sales tax, which the Ministry would be able to enforce because I'm pretty sure they they oversee food production. There would also be a fee for the various Ministry-run procedures like booking overseas portkeys (and legal-social functions? the officiant at Dumbledore's funeral and Fleur's wedding is pretty Ministry coded.) "Pay a fine" seems to be a pretty common punishment in this world - which isn't a tax, but definitely a way for the Ministry to make money. I wonder if people like Ludo Bagman *bought* his position. It would be very 1700s of him.

Then there's property tax, and this is where the the old pure-blood families on the Wizangamot come in. I think the Ministry presents a budget to the Wizangamot, and *they* make up the difference, among themselves. At which point yes of course Lucius finds ways to weasel out of paying if he doesn't like the current minister, if he doesn't like the deal he's getting, if he's just feeling pissy that day, whatever. But at the end of the day, they collect their own taxes from the various spheres they control.

Now we're getting into headcanons, but I think the Malfoy money comes from primarily being landlords. At *very least,* Malfoy Manor has a magical satellite village (a la Hogsmeade or Ottery St. Catchpole) that they just own and probably low-key police. (they probably also just own a chunk of Wiltshire.) I also highly, highly doubt that the Malfoys gave up all their ties to the muggle world post Statue of Secrecy. If every new Muggle Prime Minister has a meeting with the Minister of Magic, then... I bet every time Lloyds of London gets a new CEO, Lucius Malfoy shows up to say, "We get 1.5% off the top. My bankers will be in touch." Goblins don't care about the Ministry's laws even slightly, and there's got to be an exchange rate if Hermione's parents can show up to Diagon Alley and buy her books.

All of the old pureblood families are going to have their own *thing,* their own under-the table agreements and sweetheart deals. The Blacks strike me as being big into shipping, probably because they're so based in *London.* But yeah, at least to me, this is the sort of thing that gels with the universe that we see.

(Hogwarts and St. Mungo's would be funded the same way, on a smaller scale. A huge part of St. Mungo's budget just seems to be the Malfoys. And Hogwarts has a board of governors who under normal circumstances raise money and make decisions on how to run the school... but they don't seem especially powerful these days. I'll bet it's because whatever endowment Hogwarts has/whatever funds Dumbledore has at his disposal *are* enough to run it... which is why Dumbledore can do whatever he wants, and becomes an almost independent political entity.)