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pugh-bug · 2 months ago

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Marooned

Art Donaldson x ex wife reader

Part: 1 of 2

Word count: 2,488

This was supposed to just be a one shot but I got carried away! If you want to be added to my permanent taglist for all Art Donaldson x reader works please let me know 🫶🏻

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A seagull flew over your head, narrowly missing your ear with its wing as it passed. What were you doing here out at sea alone? It was reckless and you hadn’t done reckless for quite some time. You thought a boat ride alone might clear your head after the argument. He meant well, your boyfriend, but he could be a naively hurtful prick when the mood was ripe for it.

The engine moaned and groaned as you got further out to sea, the waves rising and falling gracelessly. Night had fallen and you had no signal and no way of knowing the way back to shore. It hadn’t seemed so far away moments ago but now every edge of the world seemed to be filled in with ocean. You tried to steady your heart rate as a large wave approached your modest boat and the engine whirred and creaked with fear. Just as you braced yourself for the wave a loud horn announced itself nearby. When you opened your eyes you were looking at his.

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‘Art?’ Your voice was hoarse as you looked up at the man pulling you up. The wooden, glossy floorboards told you you were no longer on your own boat. The man tried to explain to you what had happened and where you were but all you could focus on was the icy water dripping down your skin.

‘Let’s get you inside Y/N.’

You followed him into a lavishly decorated, wood panelled room. If it weren’t for the rocking beneath you you’d swear you were on land in some hotel. The lamps were Tiffany and the tables were mahogany, as expected your ex husband had done disgustingly well for himself. Even the scent in the air was rich.

Art fetched you a wool blanket and a towel before guiding you to sit on the inviting leather armchair opposite him. You shivered as he poured you both what appeared to be whisky, no doubt some 100 year old stuff no one had access to but him.

‘Do you need anything else?’ He asked as he sat down, his voice steady. You could hardly believe your eyes, 10 years it had been since Art Donaldson had been in your presence. 10 years since the divorce. Life had been kind to him, he looked older yes but he still had a youthfulness to his face. He was still handsome, still no doubt the tennis player most young female fans had posters of in their bedrooms.

‘I’m okay,’ you breathe, gathering yourself. ‘Thanks for pulling me out.’ In truth your memory of the night was already hazy and cloudy, almost in black and white. You remembered the gurgling of your engine dying and the size of the wave coming for you but nothing more. A familiar voice?

‘I couldn’t believe it was you when I saw your face. What the fuck were you doing in that out here on your own?’

Art was equally appalled as he was amused. Perhaps he was impressed with your attempt at independence and bravery, something he hadn’t got to see much of throughout your marriage.

‘To clear my head.’ It came out as more of a question. You needed alcohol to settle your nerves, a few more drinks would satisfy.

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‘Are you still writing?’

‘About tennis?’

Art pulled a face to say about anything, as if he didn’t believe you had the guts to write at all anymore. He wasn’t wrong.

‘No, didn’t have much opportunity after the divorce.’

Art raised an eyebrow at your comment, and the casual way you sipped your whisky afterwards. He watched you fade from view, metaphorically of course as you were in fact only inches away from him, as you remembered something. A memory from long ago that you’d tried to forget but couldn’t. It lived in the line between your eyebrows, the downturned smile you gave when you were concealing a lingering sadness and the constant sipping of your drink.

‘That day,’ you suddenly weren’t looking at Art across from you, you were looking at the memory of him ten years younger. ‘I was waiting for a call before you came home from Aidan - my agent - about the new book,’ Art nodded, remembering the man in the Prada suit who insisted on interrupting his time alone with you with phone calls about blurbs and font sizes. ‘And he picked up, must have rang him twelve times before he did, but when he did he told me he didn’t want me as a client - that my writing was average and he wanted better representation.’

‘Isn’t that supposed to be your line?’

You shrugged, still looking through your ex husband not at him, and sipped once again. ‘He got angry when I asked him why, started ripping apart my last articles and my last book. I think the word that came up,’ you pursed your lips at the memory. ‘The most was disappointing.’ As the boat bobbed, you pictured your old desk in yours and Art’s home where you’d received that call and you pictured Art arriving quite suddenly finding you staring at it.

After a long pause Art sighed a simple: ‘I never knew.’ because he didn’t. Of course he didn’t, why should he? That day had been painful enough without your failures as a writer coming into play. ‘Well, it’s not what stands out the most from that day anyway.’ You smiled, your down turned smile, at Art’s pensive face.

‘No, I think the toaster you smashed still wins.’ Art chuckled and you let yourself laugh at the absurdity. How were you on his boat? You didn’t believe in fate, it was all too simple an idea for you to take seriously, but something about it being almost ten years exactly since that day was alarming. Perhaps satisfying too, if you’d admit it to yourself.

Art stood up to fetch himself his jumper. ‘For what it’s worth, I always liked your writing.’ This you had to hear.

‘Really?’ It had come out even drier than you’d intended. ‘Because I seem to remember you selling any copies I gave you.’ That was only partially true. Twelve years ago Art had been spotted outside a hotel the two of you had been staying at by a desperately excited kid. Art had had nothing on him to give the poor fan but a copy of your latest book he’d planned to read in bed that night. Being the sweetheart he pretends not to be Art gave it away - only for the kid to pass him his last note and hightail it down the street smiling. Maybe sold wasn’t the right word afterall.

Art sat back down. ‘Adrian was a miserable agent and clearly stupid to have fired you.’ The whisky had started to have an affect because his words warmed your heart more than they had the right to.

‘You just never liked him because he didn’t find you funny.’ A playful smile edged itself onto your face, mirroring Art’s. He placed his glass down on the mahogany table, his eyes gleaming and not leaving your own, before scoffing. ‘He was alone in thinking that.’ Arrogant bastard.

‘I think, if you refreshed your memory you’d remember that I was the funny one.’ You couldn’t pass up the opportunity to swill your glass like a Bond villain to add some flourish to your comment. The atmosphere on the boat had shifted completely. You were starting to feel ten years younger and if it weren’t for logic you’d swear Art was looking ten years younger too.

‘You looked pretty funny flailing around in the ocean.’ Art quipped, enjoying himself a bit too much. You had to disagree. ‘You’d have felt bad if I’d have drowned!’ A giggle threatened to escape your chest.

He considered that for a moment, how bad he would feel if his ex wife was nothing more than a memory. Would he be allowed at the funeral? He didn’t know how badly the divorce had affected your scathing parents. The only thing your Mother had said to him on the day of the wedding was ‘Take care of her’ and that had felt more akin to a threat than advice. ‘Not sure your parents would have forgiven me.’

You scoffed, taking another rather large sip of whisky. ‘Don’t be ridiculous, my Mother thought a lot of you. She’d probably bail you out of prison.’

‘I didn’t mean her.’

The insecurity and guilt was evident on your ex husbands face, even through the slight haziness of your whisky lenses. You knew what he was remembering and it wasn’t just the offhand snide comments your Father would make at family meals or New Year’s parties, no. He was remembering that day.

‘Well…it doesn’t really matter now does it.’

Art adjusted in his seat, not ignoring your frown. He wanted to ask you something while he had you to himself for the first time in a decade. He might regret it. He might wish not to hear the answer, if you’d even be gracious enough to allow him one, but he had to know.

‘Can I ask you something?’

You shot him a just go ahead look.

‘I was always confused about - I mean about why you married me.’

‘Hmm.’

It took you a moment to figure out the write answer, an answer that was a mix of honesty and restraint. You’d already had a shitty, stressful day but something about him even daring to ask that after such a long time of no contact made you curious. Perhaps you needed closure for the ending and he needed closure for the beginning. You had to allow him that, he had saved your life after all.

‘We were twenty two I mean, doesnt everything seem like a good idea at that age?’ But giving closure was harder than you thought as that was a bullshit answer and you both knew it. You didn’t think you’d ever see Art again, let alone be trapped on a boat with him in the middle of the ocean discussing your marriage. All of your feelings, strong as they were, had been buried with the divorce papers and the box of his stuff he’d never come back for.

You had another sip, a nervous one, feeling Art’s eyes on you growing increasingly frustrated. He wasn’t going to let you change the subject that much was clear. If you were staying the night on his boat you were going to have to open up about this.

‘Okay,’ you sighed. ‘When I first met you you were the only boy who even tried to understand me, in any capacity. You didn’t want me to be your cheerleader and you didn’t treat me like a sexual exploit. I actually,’ this was harder than you thought. ‘Laughed harder around you than any of my friends. You made me feel great pretty much all the time and you listened to me. I didn’t have to fake anything with you. When you asked me to marry you I didn’t have any doubts.’ You looked at his eyes pointedly. ‘Did you?’

Art was stunned but he knew he believed you. He’d never forget your face when he proposed, not if he lived a thousand lifetimes. ‘No.’ Without question the answer was no.

‘Then-‘

‘Then why’d I do it?’

You’d never asked so he’d never told. He wasn’t sure he had a proper answer. No answer would rid him of the decade long guilt that festered its way through his veins like a cancer.

‘It was only once, I know that. Just tell me why.’ You kept your voice calm but the hurt revealed itself anyway. Even after all the promises, all the if I ever see him agains here you were showing your decade long pain to the man responsible for it.

‘I think the ‘forever’ part of marriage had started to feel like pressure. More pressure I couldn’t fucking handle.’

He’d lost the U.S Open the week he went to her flat behind your back. While you were watching the results on tv in the family room, shedding tears for your beloved husband and all the work he’d put in, he was with her.

‘It just sort of happened when-‘

You raised your hand, almost like a lawyer. You suddenly didn’t want to know, didn’t want to picture that woman - that girl really - writhing while she road your husband into the bed.

‘I’m good.’

Art was relieved at your gesture. He didn’t want to relive that life changing mistake. The mistake that lost him you.

After a long and cold silence, you let Art off the hook with a quip about her. About if they were still together - which of course they weren’t and you knew anyway. As much as you’d tried to avoid Art like any other ex, Art was no ordinary ex. His face was plastered on magazines, your television and your phone. You’d know if he sneezed, what time and whom he was with.

‘No,’ Art smiled at you knowingly. ‘We didn’t really gel as it happens.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘She wasn’t-‘

‘Tennis?’ You raised an eyebrow at him, knowing the only real threat your marriage had been sport not another woman.

‘You.’

He let you sit with that for a moment, looking pensive as he drank more. You took a large swig of your whisky yourself, as a way to fill time more than anything else. Art’s eyes were fixated on your face and on your features, comparing and contrasting them with your younger self you imagined.

‘You haven’t changed much.’

‘Is that a compliment or an insult?’

In your marriage it had gotten increasingly difficult to decipher the two. When he referred to you as ‘Mrs Donaldson’ it was once clear that he found you particularly alluring that day but the honorific had become sour. Patronising on occasion towards the end.

‘Compliment.’

…and yet you missed being Mrs Donaldson.

‘Is this where I tell you whether I’m single or not?’ You sat back in your chair, analysing his reaction. Wanting information. Wanting him to give a shit who was with you, touching you - holding you at night. Art’s eyes flickered at the subject you’d brought into question, feeling your daring nature come into play.

‘Are you?’

‘No.’

His jaw clenched as you smiled sweetly, as if you’d just informed him you were now a nun and only had eyes for the Lord. ‘Why wasn’t he with you on that boat?’ Art questioned, leaning forward slightly.

‘Argument.’

‘Who won?’

‘We never finished it.’

That seemed to amuse Art even more.

‘We always finished ours didn’t we?’

You smiled at his wistfulness and the strange pride he seemed to take in that fact. Suddenly you felt very far from your boyfriend and new life indeed.

‘I won almost all of them.’

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Taglist: @amorisxx

Part 2

Masterlist

#art Donaldson x reader #art Donaldson angst #art donaldson #art donaldson fanfic #art donaldson fanfiction #challengers #challengers fandom #art donaldson x reader angst #art donaldson x ex wife #marooned #pughbug #challengers x reader #art donaldson smut

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orimuraa · 2 months ago

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.❦ ݁˖ Cause I’m so stupid in love - Lee Heeseung

(synopsis) ೀ winning a ticket to an enhypen fansign was the craziest thing that had ever happened to y/n. but what happens when she accidentally catches the eye of her ult bias? 𑁍ࠬܓ

idol!heeseung x fan!reader ✧₊⁺ fluff, crack ✧₊⁺ oneshot ✧₊⁺ wc 3.2k ✧₊⁺ petnames, includes all of enha, a couple of ocs as y/n’s friends

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"OMG! GUYS I GOT IN!! I'M GONNA MEET ENHYPEN!!" y/n screamed to her best friends on the phone. for context, y/n has just won the raffle for an enhypen fansign and now she is going to meet them and her husband ult bias, heeseung. hanni, seojun, and yuri were y/n's closest friends and her number one supporters. there was no doubt that y/n was drop-dead gorgeous. you would have to be blind to say that y/n wasn't pretty. so when her best friends heard the news about her meeting enhypen, they immediately started to plan how they can make heeseung fall for y/n. seojun was like the older brother that y/n never had while hanni and yuri were like the two older sisters she never had. "GIRL YES!!! WE NEED TO PLAN RIGHT NOW!! meet us at the mall in 15 babes!" yuri screamed, immediately thinking of y/n's outfit.

when everyone arrived at the mall, they all started shrieking and jumping up and down in excitement, ignoring the weird stares they got. "okay so i was already thinking about your outfit while hanni was looking at makeup looks and hairstyles and junnie was planning what you're gonna say to everyone!" yuri exclaimed. as a fashion major, this is basically what yuri has been waiting for her entire career. to dress up her baby to go and meet her man.

the afternoon was filled with many giggles, lots of trying on stuff, and taking a small snack break to replenish their energy. in the end, y/n ended up with a baby blue dress with a white shrug, a pair of black, platformed, mary jane shoes, and a white miu miu bag. "and for your hair, i was thinking of two little heart buns!" hanni giggled. "ughhh you're literally gonna be IRRESISTIBLE! heeseung will definitely want you girl!" hanni added.

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it was the day of the fansign and y/n was beyond nervous. she kept walking back and forth in her room, going over what she's gonna say to everyone. her best friends had just left after doing her hair and makeup, and wishing her the best of luck. it was now 15 minutes before y/n would leave her apartment and go meet enhypen.

the car ride to the fansign was the most nerve-wracking ride y/n had ever taken. she decided to take a taxi instead of the metro system as it would take her directly to the spot. "thank you!" y/n thanked the driver and quickly payed before brushing out her skirt. with as much confidence as she could get, she walked into the building (i have little to no knowledge of how fansigns work so this is all based off of how i think they go, please bear with me) and carefully took notes of the interior. she was given a ticket for her place in the line that read, 15. oh my lord- i'm number 15!!! i really won the lottery y/n thought to herself.

15 minutes later...y/n was finally able to see the boys come out and sit down at the long table. she could feel her heart pumping like crazy at the mere thought of being able to go up and meet her all-time favorite group. when it was her turn, she anxiously sat down in the first chair. the first member was jungwon. "hello, what's your name?" he asked, his dimples being much cuter up close. "h-hi, i'm y/n. i've been a fan since i-land," y/n said nervously, not believing that it was even real that she was meeting her favorite leader. "pretty name! i'm so grateful for fans like you. i always love hearing how long certain fans have been with us!" he smiled, melting y/n's heart. "of course! people like you guys who are so talented should definitely get as much recognition as possible!" the conversation was brief but as y/n had to move onto the next members. being able to talk to everyone felt insane but now, she was more nervous then ever because she was now sitting in front of the last member, her bias, lee heeseung. as she sat down, she felt his soft gaze on her and anyone could've noticed how heeseung looked like he just saw an angel. "hi i'm y/n...you're actually my ult bias so i'm so sorry if i seem super nervous right now," y/n laughed nervously, and heeseung found it adorable. "pretty name for a pretty girl," he smirked and y/n immediately felt her face heat up. "i'm flattered that i'm your bias. i'm a lot of people's bias, but you are by far, and if not, the prettiest girl i have ever seen." he flirted, wearing that smirk that y/n knew well. he took her hand into his and y/n felt like she was floating. her ult bias, whom she has been stanning since pre-debut, is holding. her. hand. and calling her pretty. if that's not winning in life, y/n doesn't know what is. they spent the rest of their short time together chatting but never once letting go of each other's hands.

when the staff told y/n she had to move along, heeseung put on the cutest pout ever and promised y/n that they'll see each other again soon, and scribbled something down in her album.

of course, y/n thought that she would never actually meet heeseung again and that it would be impossible, but here she was, back at home, staring at the phone number heeseung had left her. hey pretty girl, i really enjoyed your presence and i want to get to know you better. text me when you can, ###-###-####. xoxo, heeseung. "oh. my. god." she whispered, being in too much shock to even speak properly. the lee heeseung, had just given her his phone number. scrambling to find her phone, she grabbed it and immediately opened messages, going straight to her group chat with her best friends to fangirl over this.

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heeseung was not able to focus on anything else after y/n had sat down in front of him. he tried hard to focus on the other engenes he was meeting but ended up drifting his thoughts back to y/n. he did feel guilty about it and when an engene brought it up, he made the excuse of a bit of fatigue and jet lag. however, once the fansign came to an end, all the members met up just to chat with each other how it went. "sooo...anything to share?" jake asked the group, wanting to hear the juicy gossip. heeseung looked away, not wanting to share anything about his encounter with y/n. "yeah actually! there was this super sweet girl who said she has been stanning us since i-land! she kept complimenting how far we've come and how we deserve all the recognition and stuff! i think her name was y/n?" jungwon explained, immediately catching the interest of heeseung. "oh my gosh yeah! she was so sweet! i was able to chat about layla with her without getting argued with how someone's dog cough gaeul cough is smarter than layla!" jake said, side-eyeing sunghoon who just rolled his eyes at him. heeseung started to zone out a bit about y/n again. what if the members like her as well? wait, do i even like her? i just met her! heeseung had a lot on his mind but the slight nudge of jay's arm brought him back. "dude, you alright? you've been strangely quiet since we finished," jay asked, concerned for his only hyung. "yeah, just tired i guess..." heeseung replied, rubbing the back of his neck and looking away. jay just shrugged it off and got in the van to go back to their dorms and relax.

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meanwhile, y/n had been panicking about whether or not she should text heeseung. deciding to woman up, and shoot him a text, y/n sat on her bed and carefully thought out her messege.

y/n: hey this is y/n from the fansign :) is this heeseung?

heeseung?: oh hey y/n! i was starting to think that you'd never text!

y/n had to put her phone down for a moment to truly believe that LEE HEESEUNG was texting HER.

y/n: ah sorry about that! i just got some time to relax and text you >.<

heeseung: no worries! i was actually wondering if you wanted to maybe hang out sometime?

y/n: but i might get you into a scandal :( here, call me now if you can to discuss

y/n soon felt her phone ring and had to take a few deep breathes before answering. "hey heeseung! so when were you thinking of and where? it's kinda hard to go somewhere without you getting spotted!" y/n joked, earning a slight chuckle from the man on the phone. "yeah...maybe you could just come over to the dorms and we can watch a movie? i just want to get to know you better," heeseung replied, his voice slightly distorted from the phone. "y-yeah that sounds fine. how about next week??" y/n asked, not being able to help herself from stuttering due to the fact that her and her ult bias, lee heeseung, are gonna hang out together. "sure! i'll send you the address. arrive at 10am next friday y/n!" heeseung exclaimed. and then, all y/n heard was the sound of heeseung hanging up the call. "god dammit y/n, what did you get yourself into??" she groaned, pulling at her hair a bit. in all honesty, y/n really wanted to go over, but she also knew that if anyone saw her enter their dorm or be seen with heeseung, it could very well ruin his career. deciding to make the most of the opportunity, y/n put those thoughts on hold and decided that she would just have fun with heeseung. she would be lying though if she said that she didn't find heeseung hot and didn't have a crush on him, but she also didn't want her hangout with him tomorrow to be awkward. little did she know, there was some mutual pining going on between the two of them.

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the week leading up to their hangout was filled with many texts and life updates between heeseung and y/n. the pair quick;y grew super close and now more than ever, couldn't wait to meet up again.

the morning of, y/n was up early, making sure she had everything in order and ready to go over to heeseung's. hanni, yuri, and seojun came over to hype her up again as she was feeling quite nervous. getting dressed and doing her hair and makeup nice and simple, y/n decided to pass time by just chatting with her friends until it was time for her to go.

finally, it was time for y/n to hop on the metro system and take it down to the enhypen dorms. the ride there was easy as she didn't need to transfer lines. making her way up the stairs, she found herself in front of the door with a 1009 on the door as the apartment number. knocking on the door gave y/n worse anxiety because she was not only entering her crush/biases living space, BUT enhypen's! her all-time favorite group. the sound of the door opening knocked y/n out of her thoughts and she suddenly felt her heart rate increase. "OH MY GOSH YOU'RE THE GIRL HEESEUNG HYUNG LIK-MJSBHGSHS!" y/n was immediately greeted with sunoo yelling, only to get tackled by jungwon, who was attempting to get sunoo to shut up. y/n just watched the two pocketz roll around on the floor when someone clearing his throat caused the pair and y/n to look up. there was heeseung, standing in the hallway, looking like he would absolutely murder the two on the ground. his eyes read, "we'll talk later. this isn't over." mkaing the two boys shiver a bit. "i'm so sorry y/n. please ignore these idiots and come inside!" and just like that, heeseung's whole demeanor changed when he was talking to y/n. she slowly stepped over the pocketz, who were still lying on the ground, and followed heeseung to his room. looking around, she could see framed pictures of all seven of them at award shows, music bank, and mv shooting places. there were also a couple trophies, and some random decor that made the place very homey. following heeseung into his room, she looked around and saw his room exactly like how she saw in the video where they showed off their new dorms. (ik they live on two different floors, so just pretend that all of enha was on the same floor hanging out together) the only difference was that it had a bit more stuff lying around and it was a lot brighter due to heeseung opening the curtains a bit. "woah, this is just like i saw in the video," y/n mumbled, mainly just talking to herself. she heard heeseung chuckle a bit and reply. "yeah..well, it's a bit messy..sorry 'bout that," he said while rubbing his neck sheepishly. "no no it's fine! it's actually very cozy," y/n smiles, and heeseung finds himself falling for her a little more.

the two ended up watching a movie together and y/n slowly found herself drifting off, surrounded by the comfort of heeseung's warmth and smell. heeseung felt a weight leaning on his shoulder and when he looked over, he saw y/n, peacefully sleeping and looking so adorable. he quickly positioned her into a more comfortable position and snuggled into her. i really shouldn't be feeling this way about a fan...but y/n's more than just a fan... he thought to himself.

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y/n woke up to someone's arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer to the mysterious person's chest. carefully, she looked over her shoulder to be greeted with heeseung's beautiful face, buried into her back. now this is most definitely something out of crazy dream because one moment, y/n is heeseung's biggest fan and would probably never meet him, and the next, she's cuddled up with him and taking a nap together. reading the time, 1:09 pm, y/n decided that maybe she could plan something for her and heeseung to do here in the dorm so no one would spot them. so, carefully slipping out of heeseung's hold, y/n makes her way into the living room/kitchen and spots jake, sunghoon, and riki playing games on the sofa. "oh- hello," she bows, remembering that these are her favorite idols and still wanting to make a good impression. "oh my goodness! are you y/n?? we've heard so much about you!! we only had a short period of time to talk last time so this is really nice!" jake exclaimed, making his way over to y/n. he really was just like a cute little puppy. "yes hi! i can't believe this is actually real. thank you for having me over," y/n smiles brightly. "of course! actually, we've noticed a change in heeseung hyung's attitude and we think it's because of you! he's always so smiley now and always updates us about you," sunghoon adds, with riki trailing in behind him, nodding his head in agreement. after talking a bit more with them, y/n notices out of the corner of her eye, a figure slumped against the door frame. jake, sunghoon, and riki take this time as a time to escape their lovey dovey-ness and head back to their rooms. turning and seeing a freshly-woken-up heeseung wearing the cutest pout ever, she walks over and simply adores his little pout. "woke up and you were gone," he mumbled, sleep evident in his voice still. "thought you left but turns out you were too busy with them." he adds, his lower lip jutting out more. truth be told, y/n wasn't really listening as she was too busy adoring his features. then, all of the sudden, heeseung wrapped his body around y/n's and carried her over to the couch.

after a comfortable silence filled with cuddles and affectionate gestures, heeseung takes a deep breath and turns to face y/n. "y/n, can i be real with you?" he asks, breaking the silence. y/n can only nod as she for some reason, can't form any words at the moment. maybe it's his doe eyes staring right at her, filled with nothing but softness, care, and maybe something else? "i'm just gonna say it. i think i'm in love with you. no, actually, i know i'm in love with you. i know we've only really known each other for a month now and this is our second time meeting, but i truly believe that you are the one for me. you help me get through tough days of training, and root for me like no one else has. you make me feel enough for myself and i truly thank you for that. i totally understand if you don't feel the same way, but i just wanted to let you know." heeseung confessed. it took y/n a second to process the fact that her bias just confessed feelings to her but then she was able to form some words and reply. "i'm so glad that i can be that person for you seungie," she starts, taking his hands into hers. "i actually feel the same way. whenever i was feeling down or discouraged, i would just listen to your words or lyrics and they just made me feel so loved. i should be the one thanking you! you have helped me for almost 4 years now, and i'd be so stupid to say i didn't like you back. lee heeseung, i like you so much and i have since the minute i saw you on i-land. thank you for being the reason i smile and laugh nowadays." y/n and heeseung meant every single word they said to each other. they had both been each other's person for the past month past 4 years for y/n and they truly felt something special for each other. "can i kiss you?" heeseung whispers, leaning so close to y/n, their faces mere centimeters apart. "yes," and with that singular word, heeseung closed the gap between them. their lips were like puzzle pieces, they fit perfectly together and everything just felt so complete now that they were together. the kiss was passionate, yet soft, and was sweeter than anything y/n or heeseung had ever tasted. when they finally pulled apart, heeseung rested his forehead against y/n's. whispering "i'm so stupid in love with you" against her lips, he pecks her again, short and sweet, yet filled with love. "soo...one last question. will you be my girlfriend?" "is that even a question? yes!!" and the two stuck together for the rest of the day, treasuring their moments together. heeseung figured that telling management was for another day. today was filled with their crazy, stupid love.

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first heeseung fic!!! i honestly couldn't help but feel real delulu while writing this but it's okayyyy....delulu is the solulu after all. hope you guys enjoy this!! reblogs, likes, and feedback are very much appreciated! <33

#₊˚⊹♡𝖄ᥱȷі's 𝖂᥆rks #heeseung x reader #lee heeseung #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen #heeseung fluff #enhypen fluff #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #enha #enha x reader #enha fluff #enha imagines

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1000sunnygo · 3 months ago

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Hi! Not sure if you ever found the source for the "Strictness" Law/Onigiri strip (/post/752386761409396736), but it comes from volume 3! It immediately follows the bonus chapter where Law adopts Onigiri. It's next to another strip - I've uploaded the page to imgur (/a/bhKVocD). On a semi-related note, is the reason you split the chapters into two parts because that's how SJ+ releases them? I already buy the magazine for other reasons, would you translate them in one shot if I posted them?

AHH thank you so much for the entire page + source + the offer 🥹

Yeah, the translation is split because I only follow SJ+ updates. The entire chapter would be too long to TL at once and posting them ahead of their online release is essentially spreading spoiler, so maybe it's for the best? 😅

It'd be lovely to have access to the magazine! But you might've noticed that I'm only TLing chapters featuring Law, so I may not translate the immediate upcoming chapters. I'm down for translating more but that's too much work to do all by myself. I haven't received a request to translate more than what I do and my audience for OP Academy is niche and small, around 100 people or less lol. probably would've forced myself to churn out translations for every update if they blew up djfkdkd

If someone volunteers to letter the scans, I can join the team! I'm sure the translation would've spread further if they were lettered. Otherwise, I'll continue TLing the updates sporadically.

Speaking of the magazine, I was really curious about the May issue from this year:

Did you happen to buy it? I'd love to translate the extra pages 🥹

#I remember seeing this bepo-onigiri 4-koma before but the law onigiri one was completely new to me #thanks again!#really hope we have the entire series translated in a well organized manner some day *side eyes viz*#if you want me to translate anything specific from the magazine/volume please feel free to lmk o7 #one piece #one piece academy #asks #one piece translations #one piece onigiri #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #one piece bepo #heart pirates #one piece penguin #one piece shachi #mine

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thecoffeelorian · 4 months ago

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The Little GoFundMe List Update, Part 1.

JULY 15, 2024...

Dearest Star Wars Mutuals...

Firstly, Hello and Thank You to everyone who has donated, liked, and reblogged my past list thus far...because I now have a new set of posts to pass along, and I hope you will continue to help.

Secondly, in order to keep the urgency of this situation fresh, I've decided to do the following:

Repost the same links as before with updated totals;

Add a few more that have just been revealed to me;

Bring the accounts close to reaching their respective goals to the top of the list (in part 1).

In this way, at least I hope, this will help the families at the top of the list reach their goals faster, as well as lead to the ones next in line becoming the focus until their goals are reached, and so forth.

The links are now as follows::

From @aymanayyad82, Fadi A. Ayyad: $24,767/$35,000, 70% complete.

From @anas-gaza-family, The Anas Family: $13,330/$20,000, 66.65% complete.

From @skatehani, Hani Al-Hajjar: €32,673/€50,000, 65% complete.

From @haneenatya34, Suheir Hojok: $38,804 AUD/$70,000 AUD, 55% complete.

From @karamrafeek, Karam Rafiq Al-Nabih: €9,852/€20,000, 49% complete.

From @amjad20011, Amjad Almoghrabi: €10,472/€25,000, 42% complete.

My tags are hereby No-Pressure for, though not totally limited to, the following people:

@libraryfordyslexics @leos-multifandom-corner @gun-roswell

Therefore, if you see this anywhere within the next hour...please donate, like, and/or reblog. Thank You So Much!!

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utilitycaster · 8 months ago

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Hi there, I saw in one of your tags recently that "if you think the raven queen was being unfair, I'm not really interested in your opinions." I was wondering if you could talk a little more about that because I'll be honest, Vax isn't my favorite character but I've seen all of C1 and I really don't get why some people HATE the RQ, call her unfair, manipulative and pretty plainly say this moon conflict is mostly her fault because she took Vax and through a Domino effect Ludinus is releasing Predathos. Also, I enjoy your theories and analysis for CR so much you got me listening to Midst, so thank you.

Hi anon,

Great question! This is going to be a very long post, with a relatively short initial answer, because there is both the literal misinterpretation that indicates this is not someone with strong analytical skills nor knowledge of canon, and a number of potential mindsets that lead to this manner of thinking in the first place, none of which I respect. You happen to have sort of hit upon the foundational elements of my whole deal re: CR meta, so, buckle in.

The first part is simple: Vex died because Percy triggered a trap before she'd been healed up. We've seen this sort of trap elsewhere in non-divine contexts (Folding Halls of Halas); it's just a form of trap. A particularly nasty one, but this is for a very powerful relic she doesn't want falling into the wrong hands, and, moreover, the party could have likely disabled it either through rogue skills or magic had Percy waited. Vax, then, as the third part of the resurrection ritual, told the Raven Queen to take him instead of Vex. The Raven Queen did precisely as he asked. He did not need to offer this (Scanlan was going to make an offering, the other parts of the ritual had gone well, it was Vex's first death so the DC was low, and Vax could have made any number of other, less dramatic offers), and he did so with the understanding that he would die in lieu of Vex, right then and there. He did not. I think that's the only case, actually, where the Raven Queen was not 100% upfront with her intentions before Vax accepted something; but he offered it voluntarily. Vax was a person who formed extremely intense connections, to the point where it was perhaps unhealthy, and did not believe life without his sister was worth living, and was willing to sacrifice himself to a god.

Everything after that was extremely straightforward. Vax communed with the Raven Queen, who spoke very directly with him in his vision in the Raven's Crest. She was extremely clear when she met with him following his disintegration: he was given the option to refuse her offer, and he took it instead. It is not manipulative to give someone a difficult decision, and if a character you like makes a choice you don't like, it is not automatically the result of manipulation.

As for the moon conflict being her fault…that is, to put it bluntly, unhinged, and what's more, ironic given that that's the manipulative argument. Ludinus tried to commune with Ruidus using a random crystalline artifact beneath Molaesmyr, centuries before Vax was born. He was going to do this regardless. If he couldn't get Vax, he'd get some other sliver of divinity, and what's more, it's been all but stated that Vax is not actually supposed to be leaving the Shadowfell to protect Keyleth, and is disobeying the Raven Queen directly (and it's been stated that this isn't necessarily helpful for Keyleth, who is trying to grieve and move on). So: Vax made his choices with the knowledge of what they entailed, is trying to bend if not break the conditions to which he agreed with full knowledge in a way that probably isn't healthy for him or Keyleth, and it's bananas to be like "wow look at how the Raven Queen made Ludinus try to free Predathos." Like. Even if she had tricked Vax, which she didn't, Ludinus literally could have just kept on his racist imperialistic longevitymaxxing beat indefinitely and left the moon well enough alone. The domino meme is a meme. I mean, while we're at it, couldn't we trace it back to Vecna instead, for killing Vax with Disintegrate in the first place, since had he not done so, Vax would have either survived that fight or would have been resurrected normally? Or perhaps it's Percy for triggering that trap. Or the Chroma Conclave for being the reason why Vox Machina was seeking the Deathwalker's Ward in the first place…but that only happened because Allura and Kima didn't kill Thordak but rather sealed him, and because a priestess of Melora cursed Raishan so that she had reason to ally with Thordak. We can go on indefinitely; the point is, to assign blame specifically to the Raven Queen when Ludinus literally did not have to do a goddamn thing with the moon is a fucking stupid take.

Below the cut, I talk root causes behind why people might decide the Raven Queen was unfair and come up with the above nonsensical argument to support that, since I don't think people say stupid things just to be stupid.

I think one root cause for this mentality of this is that the person in question wishes Vax hadn't died and is looking for someone to blame because they don't want to blame Matt Mercer and Liam O'Brien, even though yeah, that's who to blame. The thing is, as we learned in Campaign 2, character death is quite literally on the table. Had Vax not made his bargain, either in episode 1x103 or his original one during Vex's resurrection? He might have simply remained dead. Had he not given his life for Vex's, he was pursuing paladin anyway with the Everlight, and we don't know what she'd have required of him. But more importantly, for all people like to bring up a PC-centric perspective (which, in Actual Play, is inevitable) Vox Machina's frequent use of resurrection spells was in fact a massive privilege most people in Exandria do not have. And, unsurprisingly for a table whose DM made up rules specifically to make resurrection more difficult, the Critical Role cast is open to a story where death exists. I do not think it's an accident that resurrection has been made even harder in the subsequent campaigns. I also happen to think that Campaign 1 is a far richer and better story with Vax's death, given the other events that occurred. Had Vax not been the sort of person who would offer his life for a god to take in exchange for his sister? Sure, he'd possibly have lived to the end. But he was, and that's the character those people who wish he were still alive loved. If he wasn't that person, they wouldn't have liked him in the same way.

D&D is fundamentally about exceptional characters becoming more powerful, and will be focused on those characters. I do not think D&D supports a story about characters who reject all power. They can give up political power (the Mighty Nein, for the most part, do this - certainly more so than Vox Machina, and Bells Hells is yet to be seen) but they will progress in levels, which is power. Even if unwanted, it is power, because most people in the world are commoners with 5 HP and 10 in all their stats. With that said, a lot of people desperately want a subversion of this power narrative. Vax is, I think, the closest we get. In D&D you are not going to get a player character who finishes a campaign and remains Just Some Guy. But you can have someone like Vax, who doesn't have any interest in power (compare to Vex, who very much is about power and who gets a much happier ending) who nonetheless ends up on the Tal'Dorei Council and the favored of a god…and yet, in the end, his equally powerful friends still can do nothing to save him. I think a Power Bad story is overly simplistic, but "there are limits to power, and ultimately none of us have complete control" is not. I think Vax's death gives the story of Vox Machina a finality and heft that it would lack otherwise.

A second possible cause is the "What if the gods are BAD" argument. I'm going to be totally honest: I did not see this in the fandom until Campaign 3, and honestly, not until EXU Calamity in any widespread sense, which does lead me to believe that most people did not come up with it as a reasonable idea on their own until characters started saying it, because it is so plainly in conflict with the themes of Campaigns 1 and 2 that to make this argument would be obvious projection. Do I think a nuanced view of the gods as flawed beings, rather than perfection, is warranted? Absolutely. Mortals, too, are flawed, and we don't kill them all for it. I think Vax's story makes them uncomfortable because it makes it clear divine favor is not, as Ludinus Da'leth tries to argue, the gods just bestowing and withholding their gifts arbitrarily, but rather that divine favor comes with a divine responsibility as well. Clerics and paladins do not study the way wizards do; but they must live lives in service, whereas a wizard can shut the book at the end of the day and do whatever. Clerics and paladins have powers that can be taken away; a wizard does not. That's the fundamental concept behind the Age of Arcanum - wizards trying to get around the fundamental rules of this world! Vax's paladin powers came at a price. His options are guided, but also limited, by the oath he took. He is far more fettered than a wizard, in the end, and I think that fucks with the narrative of the gods cruelly withholding their gifts from all but a select few, so they instead make their gifts into manipulative punishments…while still, contradictorily, arguing that characters such as Laudna or Ashton or Imogen were denied the mercy of the gods. Now, setting aside the obvious, that these characters have their backstories because Marisha and Taliesin and Laura decided they would because this is a story, and one in which someone had a perfect life would be boring and so the gods didn't intervene with Laudna because Marisha Ray wanted to play a Sun Tree corpse (see next section), it really is fascinating to see how people who hate the Raven Queen so neatly align with Ludinus. It's fine for sorcerers to have inborn powers, apparently, and Ludinus actually has himself tried to ape druidic magic; it's not about power, it's just about that power source. Honestly, they're not even above the gods as a power source - Ludinus used the crystal beneath Molaesmyr seemingly unaware if it were of the Archheart, and he's demonstrably using Vax, and everyone loves a resurrection from the gods, but heaven forbid you pay someone for the work you feel yourself entitled to. (Entitlement: this will also be a theme throughout the rant portion of this post.)

As a brief subsection to this: the idea that bad things happen to good people because the other side of that coin is free will is an ancient theological and philosophical discussion, and one we are obviously not going to solve here, though it is a little depressing I have had multiple rewarding conversations on this topic, thanks to an academically rigorous religious education, starting from the tender age of 9, and a lot of adults on Tumblr seemingly can't engage on the level of my third-grade classmates. I think, however, it tells a truth that fits in well with the wizard (and entitled fan) desire to control everything. People are terrified of random forces. Cancer, for example, is a matter of probability. There are things that can increase your chances of developing cancer, to be sure, but the simile I used when I was taught about radiation-induced cancers was that of lottery tickets: if you buy more, you have a better chance; but sometimes someone who bought a single ticket "wins" and someone who bought a ticket weekly never does. By believing the gods of Exandria are on trial for not intervening with every little hardship or for not taking Vax precisely as he intended, they reveal a profound terror of random chance and of the free will of people who are not them. Which is very funny when you consider we're watching Actual Play, where random chance is a deliberately induced element. I think the takeaway of all of this is "I think some of you guys are really mad this is a D&D game." But let's continue.

The third, and honestly most likely cause, is honestly sort of a continuation of the first but not centered around Vax so much as just a general, in my opinion deeply childish discomfort of any sort of tragedy or unhappiness in fiction. I've noticed this a lot lately, and I am not a cultural critic and don't have a high enough level view to pretend to be one, but as others have noted a lot of people seem affronted when whatever show they are currently watching does not meet their specific standards of "comfort media" or "hopepunk." It's a self-infantilization I don't care for, and it's certainly not limited to the CR fandom (see: any grown-ass adult passionately defending a choice to only watch children's cartoons and only read YA) or even fandom at all (see: the baffling popularity of the Mr. Rogers "look for the helpers" line which was intended for anxious young children, not for adults who can and should be the helpers). It really came into focus for me with CR when people referred to both EXU Calamity and to Candela Obscura's Circle of Needle and Thread as specifically "hopeless." They are, to me, deeply hopeful series. They are sad, and tragic, and many characters do not get a happy ending, but they are ultimately about how some people will endure, and will live on and find meaning after great loss. Calamity explicitly states that because of the actions of the heroes, while devastation will occur, total annihilation is mitigated. It's like the adage of how courage only means something in the face of fear; hope only means something in the face of darkness. Happy and fluffy tales are not hopeful; they are merely not things that require you to have hope. The root word of catharsis is that of cleansing and purgation and it originally related to physical excretion - cathartic stories are about getting those complicated and ugly emotions and fears out and feeling better for it by briefly feeling, perhaps, worse! Now, again, this has worsened with Vax's story with time. Shortly after Campaign 1, it was very common to see stories where Vex or Keyleth were utterly distraught, indefinitely, but those at least were engaging with grief, even if in a very shallow and unproductive way. But this has morphed into this idea that the fact that a work of fiction might make you even feel sadness makes it bad, and wrong, and hopeless, and the machinations of a cruel and heartless god. Which brings me back to the entitlement narrative: it's really as simple as "the story didn't give me what I wanted (whether that was a happy ending for Vax, or for Keyleth, or just a lack of sadness generally, or a narrative about the gods that validates my personal beliefs, or a way to justify Ludinus's actions), so it is bad." Which again is about being in control of the narrative, which again, in D&D, is simply not something anyone can claim. Why are these people here watching a D&D game? I don't know.

So that's really it: on a basic level, if you think the Raven Queen is unfair, you are profoundly ignorant of canon, so I'm already going to have to fact check anything you cite (if you cite at all), but there's a much deeper refusal to meet stories where they are and expand one's own comfort zone at play, and that means any analysis will never consider the possibility that your pre-existing beliefs were wrong (absolutely crucial in meta). You will always play it too safe and be uninspired and reactionary because the alternative is uncertainty and fear. I think a refusal to embrace tragedy in fiction is itself a profound tragedy; that is someone who is terrified to believe that life goes on.

#answered #Anonymous #cr tag #long post #candela tag #ngl i'm torn about not maintagging this; kind of want to but it does go somewhat far from the original topic

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paper-star-ships · 1 year ago

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-hugs- 🖤 as for questions, are there any funny animal images that make you think of specific f/os? what songs have you been listening to that make you think of them/story stuff with them? any silly au thoughts? and silly thoughts in general? what are your f/os fav fruits/vegetables and what are their least favorite? any reasons as to why? if they went to the beach, what would they all be doing? what sort of biome/environment would you see them living in? if you could put them in a time period that wasn’t the one they were in now, what would it be? (feel free to pick and choose questions 🖤🫂)

what songs have you been listening to that make you think of them/story stuff with them?

I've been listening to a lot of AJR's new album, and Hole In The Bottom Of My Brain is a Pleck song to me now <3 (all their songs about trying to be happy/not understanding your purpose/having adhd are Pleck coded also btw; that includes Next Up Forever, Turning Out parts 1, 2, and 3, and Way Less Sad <3<3). Touchy Feely Fool is about me and Deacon btw... I am the touchy feely fool!!! I think there is a vibe early in our relationship where he gets annoyed that I care so much (it's the end of the world!! It's dangerous to care about things that much!!!) and I'm legit like If I could Not Care I WOULD But Alas I Have Fragile Heart Disease and Must Help Everyone </3 😔💅✨ aaaaaaand Steve's Going To London is starting to remind me of the Tenth Doctor 🥺🌠✨💅 maybe it's just me being self indulgent (or the fact that both AJR and the Tenth Doctor are adhd-coded to me...) but I think he'd LOVE AJR in that way he sometimes gets excited about the human race being so delightfully human. Like he listens to Steve's Going To London or Turning Out (all parts) or Maybe Man and he's like Wow.... this is the Human Experience!!! So beautiful :')

any silly au thoughts? and silly thoughts in general?

Me and Rosie discovered Lethal Company recently and (because we are genius's with PHD's in Silly Studies) immediately were like "what is Deacon and Boozer were here wouldn't that be something" and I've been brain rotting about it for quite some time now. My brain is a lore machine too so I'm coming up with all these concepts about what happened to the majority of the human race and why The Company is in charge of everyone left, and why they need these (clearly human) artifacts so badly... it's the perfect amount of danger/action and trauma bonding + a dash of that roommate-type beat cause we all live in the same tiny little spaceship with a four-layered bunk bed <3

and you KNOW I'm thinking "what if I was hurt by one of the Horrors thus creating a situation in which Deacon is too worried to care about the fact that it's suddenly Very Obvious how he feels abt me" + "maybe it doesn't matter actually cause the medicine/venom/fever is making me loopy enough that he's really hoping I don't remember how caring he's being (I do remember tho. I do <3)"

if you could put them in a time period that wasn’t the one they were in now, what would it be?

I wanna put Pleck in the late 90s/early 2000s... give him slap bracelets and silly bands!!! Let him stay up watching nickelodeon!!! He is watching reruns of Full House :') He is enjoying ring pops and pizza rolls <3 He is enjoying having a landline in the house again <3

#m.memorie🖤#rom.paper stars✨#rom.the biker and the baker🏍#Anyway thank you so much for the ask mem <3<3 #It means a lot :']#rom.hands held through time💙

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sailoryooons · 1 year ago

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Carmen | pjm x kth (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x Human!Taehyung

☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous.

☾ Word Count: 10,277

☾ Genre: Supernatural, Smut, PWP

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Hypnotized/compelled decisions and thoughts, implied manipulation, Taehyung is influenced a lot by the natural power/allure of vampires and it scatters his thoughts/makes him do things he normally wouldn’t, depictions of blood, intimidation, The Vibes Are Off, light depictions of anxiety, vampires showing off humans like pets sort of, biting/marking/bruising, explicit language, explicit sexual content, not using lube, spit play/using spit as lube, light degradation, blood play/drinking, rough sex, overstimulation, oral (m. receiving), hand jobs, ass play, a lot of feelings and sensations, mentions of fear during sex, references to subspace, feeling overwhelmed during sex, crying, power dynamics but not explicitly dom/sub, blood lust, feeding frenzy, feelings of terror, Jimin calls Taehyung ‘Carmen’ sometimes - it makes sense in context, Taehyung is lured to the vampire den, implied obsessive themes (no stalking or anything), hair pulling, voyeurism, scenes of carnage and like a feed frenzy, terror at the end of fucking, idk its a vampire coven and Taehyung realizes whats happening at the very end so.

☾ Published: October 27, 2023

☾ A/N: Happy Halloween to my baby bat @gimmethatagustd. I love you eternally, and I hope that we live a long and immortal life together. Please accept this as my love for you and I hope I am actually with you when this drops so that you can start screaming at me for hiding the fact that this fic was for you the entire time sofidjfogidjf. Also, Happy Early Birthday. I love you so much it’s actually disgusting and I need to be institutionalized. LARGELY UNEDITED SORRY.

☾ A/N 2: If mem x mem isn't your thing - literally just don't read it. It is that easy. This is not me being a shipper - it is fiction and I do not believe in shipping people in a real-life setting. Thanks.

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Tag List | Song Inspiration | BTS Fantasy and Fangs Halloween Collab

The boys, the girls They all like Carmen -Carmen, Lana Del Ray

Taehyung knows the woman at the back of the lounge wants to take him home before his first song is over. He’s become better at picking them out early. Of course, most of the men and women want to take Taehyung home, especially when starts singing the slower, romantic ballads. He can see the way they sigh, melting in their seats a little, eyes wide and mouth open.

It’s hard to pinpoint what makes his eyes keep straying back to her. She is beautiful, to be sure, but something is pressing in Taehyung’s mind as he starts his set, drawing his eyes back to her. Like an invisible hand guiding him each time, reminding him that she is there and watching.

She stares at him with a pinpoint focus, her dark eyes tracking Taehyung on the stage as he walks slowly, mic in hand and singing the notes softly. His eyes keep drifting back to her, trying to make out her features. All he can garner is that her eyes are alluring and even from a distance, she emanates something. Huger. Power.

It makes his stomach flip. Taehyung likes those who want him, but he loves those who crave him. Usually, it’s the men who are hungry enough for Taehyung to chase him. To go after what they want. To whisper pretty compliments until Taehyung is so lavished in attention that he goes home with them.

The woman at the back of the room looks like she can charm him - will charm him. It makes his lips turn upward as he croons softly into the mic, feeling the music of the band behind him swell, jazzy notes drifting.

He loves this. His mother told him that he was born to sing. Her little songbird. His mother is dead now, but he lives on through each velvet note, warm voice pouring over the patrons who watch him with dazed expressions.

Taehyung feels powerful this way. He could lead them all around the room, he’s sure of it. He could get them up, one by one, and lead them straight into destruction. He’s sure of it.

Except for that woman at the back of the room, whose presence scrambles Taehyung’s thoughts. He finds it hard to perform, her presence like a weighted stone on his thoughts at all times. He nearly messes up the words to a few songs he is so enchanted.

Still, he does well. La Vie is one of Taehyung’s favorite places to perform. The clientele is high-end, the staff likes to give him free food and drink along with a decent amount of cash for his performances, and he’s growing a steady income here.

The only problem with La Vie is that its clientele are often repeat customers, and Taehyung has grown weary of seeing the same faces he’s taken to bed already. The faces who think they own him now, who think that just because they’ve had a taste, they can have a fit whenever his eyes stray in another direction.

And his eyes do stray.

In the middle of his set, Taehyung takes a cool sip of water while the band plays a fast tune. He nods his head, feeling the rhythm and snapping his fingers. The stage lights are low but he feels the heat through his long-sleeved shirt and slacks, sweat dripping down the back of his neck slowly like a phantom finger.

From the corner of his eye, Taehyung can see Constantine staring. He tries to keep his expression neutral, but he feels the sudden flash of irritation, the urge to curl his lip in annoyance. Constantine is the exact problem that Taheyung has with La Vie, except that he’s the one who got Taehyung the gig - and the manager.

Taehyung’s throat tightens as he walks back to the stage to finish the last half of the set. The last of the songs are slower, dreamy romantic songs meant to soften the crowd before they dismiss from the lounge for the evening. The sooner he ends the show, the sooner he’ll have to field Constantine’s seeking questions and fawning.

It presents a problem if Taehyung wants to talk to the woman at the back of the room.

He decides not to think about it too much. Instead, he closes his eyes and sings his way through the rest of the song, voice carrying old jazz classics and his own written music. Some people would call his smooth voice haunting. Others call it hypnotizing. Taehyung doesn’t know where he stands on the subject, and he doesn’t care so much. He just likes to sing and he likes people who watch him sing. Who listen.

There are those who come to his performances at high-end restaurants and lounges to watch him, and those who come to hear him. He prefers those who like to hear him, but any will do at the end of the night when he wants to roll around satin sheets and drink rich wine that he doesn’t have the pallet for.

When he sings the final note of the night, it hangs in the air. This is one of Taehyung’s favorite moments of each night. It’s the last breath before his spell is broken, a moment frozen in time where all eyes are on him, the crowd so entranced that it takes a long pause for them to realize he’s finished.

The brief silence is chased with thunderous applause and people standing. He grins, feeling his chest swell with pride, blood sizzling in his veins as he bows low at the waist. He’s one of the few artists who can get this stiff, rich crowd to stand and cheer, and he knows it.

He steps to the side and gestures to his band, the applause continuing as they each stand and bow. Though most people might feel tired after a performance, Taehyung is buzzing. He feels the adrenaline pumping through him, and after he steps down from the stage and polishes off ice-cold water, he immediately wants something harder to keep the buzz going.

Drinks wait for him on the bar top. It’s crowded at La Vie but people make room for him at the bar. An original speakeasy from the prohibition era, it’s low-ceiling and dimly lit, offering a romantic and mysterious air hanging in the room. Taehyung places a folded wad of bills into a glass tip jar, saluting Yoongi behind the bar. The bartender nods, gracious for the tip and a confirmation that the glasses of neat are on the house.

Taehyung knocks back the first glass. The whiskey burns down his throat. He hisses as it goes, feeling the sting in his nasal passage. He blows out a slow breath and grins to himself, pausing before he sips the next drink to shake hands with a string of patrons complimenting him.

None of them catch his eye the way the woman at the back of the room has, though. Taehyung sees lingering looks from husbands and wives and smirks at a group of giggling women who are shy and blushing and biting their lips as they compliment him, and he feels a slight spike of irritation when Constantine takes the stool next to him.

Instead of speaking to him, Taehyung focuses on sipping the drink. It’s smooth and perfect, with a hint of orange rind that Yoongi probably burned and waved around the glass. Taehyung looks up to see the bartender cast Constantine a pitying glance before making another drink.

“You sang well tonight,” Constantine prods. “You have such a way with the crowd.”

“Well, I supposed that’s my job.” Taehyung’s comment comes out flat. He glances at Constantine from the corner of his eye to see that he’s frowning.

Taehyung is full of mistakes, but letting the manager of La Vie fuck him is by far one of his biggest. He usually has a rule that he doesn’t fuck the people who can interfere with his work, but he made an exception.

Constantine is beautiful, but a bit of a fool. He inherited La Vie from a long line of family members who have kept it running, and it’s through long-term patronage and reputation alone that it’s lasted this long. Well, that and his two only successful ventures in hiring Yoongi as his main bartender who doubles as his piano player on weeknights, and Taehyung as the late-night performances most evenings.

People don’t come to La Vie because it’s well-kept or because of Constantine’s good business acumen. They come because they want to hear Yoongi play and then watch him behind a bar all night, sweat running down his neck, dark eyes always filled with a potential promise of more. They don’t get it, of course. Yoongi doesn’t sleep around as Taehyung does, but still, the bartender and pianist is loved and lusted after by most of the patrons.

Then there’s Taehyung. The warm opposite of Yoongi’s distant, unattainable beauty. Taehyung is full of life, accepting praise greedily, willing to flirt his way through free drinks and extra tips, especially if it lands him in the bed of someone he has been eyeing all night.

Until he broke his rule for Constantine. Pretty Constantine, who said that he was on the same page and that sleeping with Taehyung would be a casual thing. Perhaps it’s Taehyung’s fault for not seeing how mystified the lounge manager was after that first night tangled in sweaty sheets followed by a hot shower the next morning.

Now, he’s between a rock in a hard place. Offend Constantine and risk being ousted. Keep letting him take Taehyung to bed, and he’ll never escape.

“Your eyes are beautiful tonight,” Constantine murmurs, dipping his head to catch Taehyung’s attention. “I’d bet they’d look even better rolling in-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” a dark, feminine voice cuts in. “But I couldn’t resist introducing myself.”

The hair stands up on the back of Taehyung’s neck. He knows it’s the woman who watched him from the back of the room before he even turns around. When he does, he is mystified. Her eyes are lined heavily in kohl and her eyes are dark as a storm sea, pinning him to his place with their intensity. Her skin is umber and smooth, her face so flawless it leaves Taehyung reeling.

There is something uncanny about her. Taehyung can’t put his finger on it. Her eyes are narrow and sharp, her lips plump and breaking into a slow, knowing smile. She looks like the cat who ate the canary, tilting her head to the side as she continues to examine Taehyung with a feline-like gaze.

“My name is Evangeline.” She reaches out a small, smooth hand. Her nails are filed into a point and painted a wine red. For a moment, Taehyung has the silliest thought that they look like the color of blood as he shakes her hand. He’s surprised at how cold they are, his palms tingling when she lets go. “I have not heard someone sing Ella Fitzgerald like that since… well, perhaps Ella Fitzgerald.”

Taehyung cocks his head to the side, a little confused. “Do you have Ella hidden somewhere that you can listen to her sing whenever you desire?”

“Would that I could. But that’s what… oh what is that spot app, again?”

“Spotify?”

Evangeline grins, revealing wicked, blindingly white teeth. “Spotify, yes. That little intricacy does quite a good job at catching the sound of old artists, but there is nothing like it live.”

Evangeline’s voice is like velvet. Even Constantine goes silent next to Taehyung, staring up at the woman as she slides next to Taehyung. She leans against the bar close enough that he gets the barest hint of scent like jasmine and amber.

A shiver slides through him as she sips a glass of the darkest wine Taehyung’s ever seen. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth when he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I know most of the patrons by heart.”

“You wouldn’t have. I have not been to La Vie in a long time.”

Taehyung realizes that she speaks with a specific articulation that hints at an accent. He can’t place it, but it’s like the sweetest music to his ears. “You’ll have to come more often, perhaps.”

“That eager to see me again?”

“I like to pride myself on repeat customers coming to hear me. It would be a shame to know you didn’t find my performance compelling enough to see another.”

“Hmm. Pride isn’t very becoming.”

Taehyung bites his lower lip, trying to hide the smile. “Spoken like a woman who can relate.”

Evangeline is quick-witted. The rest of the world seems to fade as Taehyung talks to her. It’s strange - he cannot remember what the conversation is about, and he can’t remember Constantine leaving. He doesn’t even recall the patrons leaving the bar until it’s just Yoongi wiping down the counters, eyeing Taehyung wearily as he says goodbye, following the woman out of the door.

Blood rushes through Taehyung’s veins. It’s cold outside, winter fogging his breath. His skin tingles with the sudden temperature change, muted by the soft glow of alcohol in his system. He looks up at the sky, hot breath fogging as he inhales deeply, filling his lungs with that sharp air.

Something about being drunk in the middle of the night during winter is magical. He can’t explain it, feeling himself smile as he drops his gaze back down to the woman next to him. For a second, he swears her face is sharper than he remembers, a look so hungry in his eyes that it makes his pulse skip.

When he blinks, she’s smirking at him, tilting her head. Taehyung realizes he is drunk, but he craves Evangeline. Wants to hear the way that dark voice of her pants against him, wants to feel her sharp nails on his skin, raking down-

“Have you ever been to the opera house on ninth?”

Taehyung pauses at her question. He feels his brows furrow as his drunk thoughts turn from thoughts of kissing Evangeline to puzzling out her question. “That exclusive club that was made out of the old opera house? What’s it called again…”

“Sanguine.”

He snaps his fingers and points at her. “Sanguine. No, I haven’t. It’s by invitation only and it’s the most exclusive club in the city. I hear it’s open all hours, though.”

“It is.”

“Wait, are you a member?”

Evangeline sticks her hand out. Taehyung meets her gaze and it feels like he falls forward into it. All thoughts fade from his mind. There is no sound, save that of a high-pitched ringing. Everything but the glowing, otherworldly woman has faded to the back. He only sees her.

Taehyung lifts his hand, but he doesn’t remember thinking about doing it. He places it in hers, and she laces their fingers. Her hands are bitterly cold, but she doesn’t seem to mind. He doesn’t either, skin tingling, gaze heavy on her as she tugs him along.

“Want to see it?”

He can’t form words. Suddenly feels like he can’t remember how. He nods his head instead, following her. His first few steps feel heavy and he stumbles like he has had far more to drink than he remembers. Normally, it might be cause for alarm, but Taehyung is unbothered as they walk, Evangeline’s eyes pulling him along as she walks backward.

The world passes by but Taehyung doesn’t remember it. He is somewhat aware that his cheeks and nose are sticking with cold and that his eyes are watering from the temperature. He tilts his head upward, a little dazed and confused about where he is until he sees the golden glow of the opera house.

Sanguine. It is a massive building of white stone and ornate pillars. The architecture confuses him, a blend of Greco-Roman pillars and gargoyles he’d expect to find in a gothic church. The building is a wonderous feat of dark windows, ornate carvings in the stonework, and height.

“The gargoyles are a bit terrifying,” Taehyung announces, staring at them fixated on top of the portico over the entryway. “Why the gargoyles?”

“Some lessons are hard to learn.”

Suddenly, Taehyung can’t take his eyes off of them. The two snarling beasts seem to be a bad omen and he finds himself frozen to the spot, forgetting all about the woman next to him or the invitation to see the exclusive inside of the most prestigious clubs in the city. All he knows is that suddenly, a feeling like doom has tiptoed up his back to rest on his shoulder.

Taehyung takes a step back. The gargoyles look so much more like people when he stares at them. Twisted humanoids, crouched while screaming at the sky, showing fangs. His heart beats so hard that he feels his pulse in his throat, panic welling up inside of him, ready to spill out and overflow.

“I’m drunk,” he blurts. “I should go home. I-”

Evangeline’s cold hands grab Taehyung’s face and pull him down to her. Her lips are pressed against his and he doesn’t remember what he was worried about. His heart speeds up for different reasons now, eyes fluttering shut as he melts into her kiss, his hands going to her hips to pull her in closer.

She tastes like dark wine and something else - a bit like iron and salt. The kiss is slow and dizzying and when she pulls away, Taehyung is eager to follow her into the dark halls of the opera house.

The lobby is dark inside. No light comes through the windows, leaving Taehyung in a complete abyss as Evangeline shuts and bolts the door behind him. A tingle slithers up Taehyung’s spine when she bolts the door and he suddenly feels like he’s never going to leave the opera house again.

A soft din of voices and music trails to him from the doors leading to the main theater. Evangeline takes his hand and leads up toward the door. He still feels dizzy from the kiss, willing to follow her wherever she goes.

For now, that’s the main seating area of the theater. She pulls open the heavy door, the rush of gentle voices and piano hitting him. Leading him through the door, Taehyung blinks as his eyes adjust from complete darkness to low light. It’s so dim that it takes him a moment to make out anything at all, eyes drifting up toward a massive chandelier with flickering, gold bulbs.

The inside of the theater is like nothing Taehyung has ever seen. It has been transformed into a massive lounge with a wooden bar on the far right, manned by two bartenders. Velvet couches, chaise lounges and chairs are placed around the main floor, groups of people dressed in formal wear and dripping with jewels draping themselves over the furniture.

Everything screams opulence. The interior still has the same baroque, elegant beauty that seems like the original design, mixed with the new additions like the bar and furniture. On the stage is a piano, a young woman playing with her eyes closed, and a cluster of people around her, gazing at her with what Taehyung can only describe as hunger.

Evangeline leads him into the room. He feels the eyes on them as they go, glancing around nervously to realize that there is an odd mix of people in the room. There are those dressed formally in draping gowns and tuxedos, all of whom are unnaturally beautiful. Taehyung finds that his brain buzzes when he looks at them, each individual otherworldly and… cold.

The other groups of people look like Taehyung. Starry-eyed and dressed in varying degrees of plain clothes. He wonders if they are guests as well, people brought into the fold by elegant patrons like Evangeline.

Trepidation settles deep in Taehyung’s gut as Evangeline takes him to the bar and orders him a drink. He is tired, eyes heavy and worn at the edges. The momentary surge of adrenaline after she kissed him is wearing off, and Taehyung feels the layer of dizziness slipping off, replaced by anxiety.

In an attempt to take the edge off, he sips his drink. Evangeline begins introducing him to groups of people, linking her arms with his and pulling him around the room. Taehyung gives her friends a dazzling smile, though he is overwhelmed by the dark eyes that meet his. The cold handshakes. The almost predatory way that the others smile at him.

He cannot pinpoint what about the crowd is making him nervous, but as Evangeline tells someone about his singing ability, Taehyung realizes that she’s bragging. Showing him off. Pulling him around the room and gesturing to him with words like look what I found and isn’t he just darling?

Normally, Taehyung preens with pride under the compliments and the pretty words. He loves it when people are enthralled by him, swept away by his talents. Now, something about it feels off. They don’t look at him with wonder on their faces and awe in their eyes- they coo at him. Look at him like they want to eat him whole. Like he is something they can possess.

Only one person introduces himself and looks at Taehyung curiously instead of with lecherous intent. “Hoseok,” he says, shaking Taehyung’s hand. It’s firm and cold. “What do you like to sing?”

It’s the only time he’s been asked a question tonight. Hoseok is hauntingly beautiful, with dark eyes, a slim nose, and cheekbones that seem carved by Strazza. He is dazzling to look at, and Taehyung’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he says, “Jazz, mostly. Sometimes classical, but that was mostly in my younger days in school.”

“Divine.” Hoseok’s gaze slides to Evangeline. “You know he’s… his type.”

“Well, he didn’t find him.”

Taehyung doesn’t know who he is and he doesn’t get the chance to ask. The pianist on stage stops playing and Evangeline takes Taehyung’s hand, pulling him toward the stage. “Come on,” she gushes. “Let them hear you.”

He lets himself be pulled. Taehyung feels a coil of nerves in his stomach as she yanks him on stage and pushes him to the middle. The room quiets when they see them and Evangeline claps her hands, drawing the full attention of the lounge.

There’s no spotlight, but Taehyung feels hot under the weighted gaze. Again, his instinct tingles, trying to make him aware of something. He just doesn’t know what. He shoves down the feeling and tucks his hands into his pockets, giving a shy grin as Evangeline talks about his voice.

The crowd of patrons lean in a little when she steps off the stage. Their gazes are sharp as razors and he can’t help but feel like a shy lamb among a pack of wolves.

Licking his dry lips, he clears his throat and laughs awkwardly, unsure of where to look. Evangeline stands near the side of the stage, not a great point of attention as he sweeps his gaze out into the room. He fixes his eyes on the glowing red exit sign above the door and opens his mouth, taking in a deep breath before he starts a slow Sinatra number.

His voice carries over the hushed silence, deep and swelling. He smiles a little as he sings, watching the face go from hungry to mystified. The whole room seems to lean in, people from the back moving toward the stage, drawn in by him.

Taehyung goes right into the next song, feeling his anxiety melt away. His audience is wrapped around his finger, their eyes following him as he trails around the stage, more engaged. He makes eye contact with some of them, still flinching internally at the sheer darkness of their eyes, but still singing nonetheless.

When Taehyung finishes, the room erupts into gentle clapping and whispered praise. He feels pride well up inside of him, flushing with pleasure as he bows at the waist, grinning under the sweet applause. He stands up and starts walking toward Evangeline, who looks at him with a smile like the sun. His heart beats a little faster, grinning widely as she claps for him excitedly and-

“Sing another.”

Taehyung realizes the room is silent. The hairs on his arms stand on end and it feels like the air gets sucked out of the room suddenly. Evangeline’s eyes flash silver for a moment, but when Taehyung recoils and blinks, they’re back to normal, though she looks put out as she steps back from Taehyung.

Slowly, Taehyung turns to look at the edge of the stage at the owner of the soft voice and his world stops. Whoever this man puts the rest of the beauty in the room to shame. Taehyung feels his pulse race, meeting the dark, sultry gaze of the man who spoke to him.

Something calls to Taehyung. He steps toward the man, dazed and confused, staring, staring, staring. The man has the most beautiful face Taehyung has ever seen. Round cheekbones with a chiseled jaw, plush lips tinted rose, and siren eyes that glitter as he drinks Taehyung in. This is the son of a god or a god himself, Taehyung thinks. A creature of myth and legend.

“What do you want me to sing?” Taehyung asks, barely recognizing his own voice. His ears are ringing and his thoughts are syrup-slow.

The man smiles and Taehyung feels his stomach flutter. The man is not dressed in formal attire like the rest of the patrons. He’s dressed simply in black jeans with tears in the knee, a black turtleneck tucked into the waistband to show off his tapered waist, and a necklace that looks to be made of thorns.

Even dressed casually, he outshines every person in the room.

“What’s your favorite?” he asks, cocking his head to the side and regarding Taehyung.

A flush works up Taehyung’s neck. He feels a tingle slide down his spine and a lick of pleasure curl in his stomach at the man’s gaze. His fingers twitch and his mouth feels dry. He licks his lips, trying to think of the man’s question and what his answer should be.

“Can’t Help Falling In Love, I think.”

The man grins and Taehyung sees stars. “You think? Or you know?”

“I know?”

“Are you asking me?”

Taehyung shifts back and forth, shame coloring his cheeks as he looks at the floor. Effortlessly, the man jumps up on the stage. He lands silent and lithe as a cat. Taehyung’s eyes widen as he approaches, his gait smooth, footfalls unheard. “I’m only teasing, sweetling. What’s your name?”

“Taehyung.”

The man stops right in front of Taehyung. He’s shorter, but somehow Taehyung feels small and delicate in his presence, wavering as the smell of orange blossom and something darker washes over him. Taehyung’s eyelids flutter and he fights the urge to lean in closer to the man, to brush his fingers across his skin.

“I’m Jimin.” Jimin reaches out and brushes his fingers across Taehyung’s cheekbone. His touch leaves a trail of tingling cold. Taehyung closes his eyes, breath catching. Whatever this spell he’s under, he can’t shake it, gone with just a touch. “I want you to sing for me, Taehyung.”

“Okay.”

Jimin steps away and Taehyung makes a sound, protesting. His mind is warring between confusion at his reaction and the need to be near Jimin. The duller part of his thoughts is careening, telling him to pull it together, to stop and leave. But the desire shaken awake by Jimin is so much louder, commanding Taehyung’s thoughts.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin murmurs, gesturing to where Evangeline is standing. “I’ll be right there.”

Taehyung watches as Jimin glides over to the edge of the stage. He whispers something to Evangeline that Taehyung cannot hear but he watches the change in the woman. She ripples with anger, her lip curling up in a snarl. Jimin says something else to her and in the blink of an eye, her head is bowed, her shoulders coming up as she steps back, cowering.

When Jimin turns around, he gives Taehyung an encouraging smile. The effect is instantaneous. Taehyung feels giddy inside, joy bubbling up as he returns the smile shyly. Gone is the anxiety, gone is the strange feeling of being paraded around. Now, all he can think about is Jimin’s dark eyes, the way they track him as he moves to the middle of the stage again.

As Taehyung starts the song, he wonders if this is what Elvis was singing about. If wise men were right and that only fools fall in love. Can love at first sight be a thing? As Taehyung sings the song softly, looking at Jimin every so often, his eyes drawn to him like a magnet, he thinks perhaps this song was written about Jimin.

It isn’t rational. Taehyung knows this and yet barely acknowledges it, watching Jimin’s eyes shine with something as Taehyung finishes the song. For a moment, no one claps. Taehyung looks nervously around the theater, watching as the eyes of the crowd look at Jimin. Once he applauds, the rest follow.

Taehyung lets out a relieved breath, smiling and bowing shallowly. Jimin approaches him again. It occurs to Taehyung that Jimin walks like a jungle cat, smooth and somehow lethal.

“You have the most exquisite voice,” Jimin says gently, shaking his head. “You are a rare treasure, Taehyung.” He holds out a hand. “Join me?”

Taehyung starts to reach for Jimin before he hesitates, eyes glancing up over Jimin’s head at Evangeline, who looks murderous. “You are far too precious for her,” Jimin growls. “It is insulting that she thinks she could ever have you.”

Instead of answering, Taehyung just nods. His eyelids feel heavy, his heady swimming like he’s buzzing off a fresh glass of liquor. Jimin links their hands together and tugs Taehyung along. As they pass Evangeline, she doesn’t dare look at them, her eyes fixed on the floor.

At the foot of the stairs, Hoseok is standing, arms crossed over his chest and smirking. He shakes his head when he sees Jimin, falling into step with him. “I told her.”

“Thank you for alerting me,” Jimin tells Hoseok. Jimin turns over his shoulder where Taehyung is trailing a footstep behind. “I would have missed out on him.”

Hoseok breaks off from them, walking toward the bar. Someone takes up the piano again as Jimin leads Taehyung out of the main theater and to a stairwell. He says nothing, following Jimin’s lead in silence, steps heavy. It feels like he’s underwater, everything dull around him.

Except Jimin, who is sharp and bright and alive in his mind.

Jimin leads Taehyung down a hall and through a door. It opens up into a balcony suite. What was once a private box for watching the opera has been turned into a luxurious room of sorts, making Taehyung raise his eyebrows.

A lounge area is in the middle of the suite, and there is a single bed tucked into the corner. A wet bar is placed at the back, along with a doorway that leads into a refurbished bathroom. Taehyung pauses as Jimin drops his hand, looking around to appreciate the velvet drapery on the wall and the ornate decor in the room.

It feels like he has stepped back in time, a mix of modern and Victorian meshing in a way that Taehyung finds wonderfully elegant. Jimin goes to the wet bar and retrieves two glasses, pouring them a finger of whiskey each. Taehyung walks toward him, looking out at the lounge beneath.

“It’s designed like a bedroom?” Taehyung inquires, eyes drifting back to Jimin, who smiles as he brings the glass up to his lips. His sharp eyes pin Taehyung to the spot as he sips. “Do you… live here?”

Jimin shrugs. “Sometimes.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering the question, Jimin gestures for Taehyung to walk with him, leading him to a rich, crushed velvet couch that overlooks the lounge. Taehyung takes a sip of the whiskey but it’s Jimin who makes him feel drunk and cottony.

He sits next to Jimin, limbs stiff. Jimin giggles at Taehyung’s awkwardness, tsking at him as he leans over and pulls Taehyung toward him, pressing their thighs and sides together as they watch the party unfold below. Butterflies flutter in Taehyung’s smile as he looks at Jimin, who is watching Taehyung with rapt attention.

Being so near Jimin is difficult. This close, he’s even more beautiful than before. Taehyung doesn’t know how it’s possible. Jimin’s lashes are long, framing his beautiful eyes. His dark hair looks silky and soft, tucked behind his ears as he regards Taehyung with a fond expression.

Heat climbs up Taehyung’s neck and between his legs, a heady feeling sinking deep in his stomach under Jimin’s gaze.

“What?” Taehyung asks, looking down at his lap and chewing the inside of his cheek. He’s never felt so bashful under someone’s gaze before. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re beautiful, of course.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t be shy now,” Jimin tuts. “You were quite confident on stage earlier. I believe the entire room fell in love with you.” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders and Jimin laughs loudly. “Now you’re humble? You are a delightful creature, Taehyung. Tell me, have you ever been to the opera?”

“No, but I’m familiar with some.”

“What about Carmen?” Jimin asks. He reaches forward and drags a finger across Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung holds back a groan as Jimin starts tracing patterns on Taehyung’s thigh. “Have you heard of that one?”

“I’m familiar with the Habanera.”

“Ah yes. It’s about a woman named Carmen who everyone is in love with. She entrances men with her vitality and sensuality. A man named José falls madly in love with her at first sight, abandoning the army, his wife, and his children for her.”

Taehyung finds it hard to listen. Even through the fabric of his pants, Jimin’s touch is tantalizing. Taehyung’s legs widen a fraction, his spine tingling. He leans his head back, feeling breathless as Jimin’s tracing gets higher and higher, teasing Taehyung before his touch moves toward Taehyung’s knee again.

“José, of course, is not the only one in love with Carmen. She is infectious, tempting everyone she comes into contact with.” Jimin leans toward Taehyung, so close that his breath ghosts across Taehyung’s throat. He feels his heart speed up as Jimin lowers his voice and continues, “You remind me so much of Carmen. Charming everyone around you with a simple look, with the sound of your voice. So addicting without even a taste.”

“O-oh.”

Jimin presses his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung nearly drops the glass in his hand, placing it next to him on the couch as his breathing hitches. Jimin runs his nose up Jimin’s too-hot skin, making Taehyung squirm.

“I fear I have the same weakness as José and you have hypnotized me like Carmen.”

“Me?”

Jimin nips Taehyung’s ear and Taehyung lets out a throaty, moan. Jimin’s breath across his skin is maddening, colors swimming behind squeezed-shut eyes. His dick hardens in his pants, blood pumping through him, arousal unfolding like the slow-blooming petals of a flower.

“Don’t sound so surprised. You know the effect you have on people.”

“I do,” Taheyung admits.

“Look at me.”

It is a command. Taehyung obeys, turning his face to look up at Jimin. Jimin’s pupils are blown wide, hypnotizing, and alluring as he looks down his nose at Taehyung. Desire stirs so strongly in Taehyung that he parts his lips open, making a small noise as Jimin’s touch on Taehyung’s thigh turns to a solid grip, fingers digging in.

“Do you want me, my Carmen? Do you desire me?”

“Yes,” Taehyung breathes. “Please.”

“Ask, then.”

Jimin’s eyes are so hungry that Taehyung is lost in them. Jimin is on his knees on the couch now, pressed against Taehyung. It feels more intimate than anything Taehyungh has ever felt and they’re barely touching, Jimin gripping Taehyung’s thigh, his mouth hovering inches above Taehyung’s.

“Ask,” Jimin growls, the sound rumbling from somewhere in Taehyung’s chest. Jimin might be smaller than Taehyung but the power that emanates from him is intoxicating and sweeping, making Taehyung shudder.

“Please,” Taehyung says again. “I want you. Will you have me? Please.”

Jimin’s grip is iron. “Of course I will. You’re mine.”

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s as Jimin steals a searing kiss from him. Taehyung gasps into the kiss, melting into the couch as Jimin licks into the wet heat of Taehyung’s mouth. Jimin is all-consuming, his lips sliding against Taehyung’s hungrily, his tongue brushing against the ridges of Taehyung’s mouth.

It’s just a kiss and yet Taehyung loses himself in it. It’s needy and torrid, their teeth clicking together, lips sliding. Taehyung grabs the front of Jimin’s shirt, uncaring if he wrinkles it as Jimin presses Taehyung into the back of the couch, straddling him. Jimin’s fingers tangle in Taehyung’s hair, pulling harshly.

The pleasure-pain makes Taehyung moan. Jimin hums, his devilish mouth moving from Taehyung’s lips to his jaw, biting and sucking harshly at the skin. It feels so good. Taehyung just lies there and takes it, hissing as Jimin’s teeth pinch and pull his skin, followed by Jimin’s soothing tongue, rough and wet.

The ache in his dick grows, especially as Jimin puts weight on it, sitting in his lap and leaning and rolling his hips forward, pressing into Taehyung’s cock and driving him wild. He feels out of control, like the room is spinning and Jimin’s kisses are going straight to Taehyung’s veins.

“Fuck,” he gasps as Jimin licks hungrily at Taehyung’s neck. Jimin drags his blunt nails along Taehyung’s scalp, sending sparks down his neck and spine. “Please.”

“Please what,” Jimin pants, mouthing at Taehyung’s collarbones. “Tell me what you need, my wonderful Carmen.”

It should be strange to be called by another name and yet, Taehyung shivers at the rasp in Jimin’s voice. Every single part of him is suddenly alive like his nerves are exposed to Jimin’s hands and mouth. Taehyung can’t remember the last time he felt like this with such simple touches.

Perhaps never.

“Fuck me,” Taehyung breathes. “I want you to fuck me.”

Jimin smiles against Taehyung’s mouth. “Oh, I’ll fuck you.”

A thrill goes through Taehyung as Jimin grabs him and slams him against the couch. His world spins and he’s suddenly facing the ceiling of the suite, panting and delirious as Jimin pins him down, littering his skin with bites and sloppy kisses.

Some of Jimin’s nipping hurts but it adds to the pleasure, Taehyung barreling straight into a slow, pleasured haze as Jimin pulls Taehyung’s shirt off roughly. Cool air kisses his flushed skin. Taehyung claws at the jacket on Jimin’s shoulders, pushing it off of him until he’s free of it, Taehyung’s hands seeking the flexing muscle of Jimin’s arms.

Jimin’s hand goes to Taehyung’s throat. His hand is small but it squeezes pleasantly as Jimin kisses down Taehyung’s chest. Taehyung grinds up against Jimin, trying to relieve the pressure aching in his cock, a whine leaving his mouth. He feels Jimin’s breath across his skin as he laughs before fixing his mouth on a nipple, making Taehyung keen.

The stimulation is too much and not enough. It feels like Taehyung is ripping at the seams - burst at the seams from the pressure mounting inside of him. What has Jimin done to him to command his body?

“Everyone can hear you,” Jimin teases, flicking his long, wicked tongue out to tease Taehyung’s already abused nipple. He drags his tongue across Taehyung’s chest, leaving a wet trail of spit as he goes. “Can hear you whining like a little whore. Is that what you want?”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut as he feels Jimin’s teeth scrape against his other nipple. He nods his head, unable to form a verbal answer to Jimin’s question.

“Hmm,” Jimin hums, tongue lashing. “Good boy. Let them know you’re mine. They’ll wait for us to have our fun before they start.”

Taehyung has no idea what that means. He doesn’t ask. Instead, his hands slip down Jimin’s stomach and under his shirt, touching his skin. Jimin is cool to the touch, his stomach muscles flexing under Taehyung’s inquisitive fingers. He grabs at Jimin’s hips, but his fingers slip away as Jimin sinks lower down Taehyung’s body, nipping and sucking as he goes.

Opening his eyes, Taehyung watches with heavy lids as Jimin settles between Taehyung’s legs, looking up at him. His hair hangs in his eyes, which glint wickedly as his nimble fingers work the zipper on Taehyung’s pants. He can’t look away from Jimin, hypnotized by the movement, but the way Jimin grins and pulls open Taehyung’s pants, leaning forward to lick at the damp spot on Taehyung’s briefs.

Taehyung’s head drops back and he moans loudly, feeling the pressure of Jimin’s wet tongue through the thin fabric. Jimin mouths at the crown of Taehuyng’s cock, sending jolts of pleasure straight to him. He grabs the back of the couch with one and presses his first to the mouth with the other, biting as he bucks his hips.

“So sensitive,” Jimin coos. His hands grab the top of Taehyung’s pants and the elastic band of his briefs and pull hard, making Taehyung yelp as Jimin unclothes him in one fell swoop. “Think you can take it?”

Taehyung nods quickly, making himself dizzy with the force. Jimin laughs and reaches out, gripping Taehyung’s shaft and pumping him slowly. Jimin’s touch is electrifying, Taehyung’s hips canting upwards to fuck himself into Jimin’s palm, head lolling to the side.

Jimin spits loudly, coating Taehyung’s cock with spit, his hand gliding firmly to the base of Taehuyng’s shaft. “Just like that,” Jimin whispers. “Fuck yourself into my hand.”

Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He does so vigorously, chasing the feel of Jimin’s tight, wet fist and the cool feel of his skin. When Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue kitten lick the tip of his cock, he clenches his teeth, slowly his wild thrusting to allow Jimin’s mouth to explore.

It’s hard not to bust immediately. He feels his orgasm looming from the barest stimulation. Suddenly it’s like Taehyung is back in high school having his dick sucked for the first time, trembling and trying not to come as Jimin suckles the head of Taehyung’s dick, mouthing at it greedily.

The room feels like it’s spinning. Taehyung cannot hear beyond the balcony. All he can hear are the wet sounds of Jimin taking Taehyung into his mouth, sucking generously, tongue brushing on the underside of Taehyung’s shaft.

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung with a wet pop. “You taste so sweet,” he groans, tongue flicking against Taehyung’s frenulum. Taehyung feels wrecked already, sagging and boneless, unable to do anything against the onslaught of Jimin’s mouth. “Sounds so sweet, just like you sing.”

Slowly, Jimin drags his tongue south. He strokes Taehyung lazily with his hand, mouthing at Taehyung’s balls. Taehyung’s fingers feel like they’ll break as he grips the couch, overwhelmed by the stimulation, crying out, muscles squeezing, head spinning, blood roaring.

“Such pretty sounds,” Jimin murmurs again, dragging his tongue upward. “Sing for me, my Carmen.”

A broken sob sound leaves Taehyung’s mouth as Jimin takes Taehyung to the back of his throat. The wet heat of Jimin’s mouth is an inferno, his throat tight and soft and oh god he’s swallowing. Taehyung lashes against the couch, hands shooting to Jimin’s hair as his throat constricts tightly around Taehyung.

He feels the spit sliding down his shaft, his stomach so tight and his dick so hard he knows he’s about to come any second, every atom buzzing.

“I’m gonna-” he can’t finish the sentence, shaking his head back and forth. His heart beats so hard in his chest he thinks he might die before he hits his peak. “Fuck, Jimin. Fuck fuck fuck.”

Jimin redoubles his efforts. Squeezes Taehyung’s balls with his hand, letting Taehyung shove his hips forward, Jimin’s throat squeezing Taehyung until he’s coming hard. Jimin takes it in stride, swallowing down Taehyung’s cum.

And he doesn’t stop.

Taehyung’s hands start to push at Jimin. Tries to pull him off Taehyung’s cock, tries to scoot away. The pleasure morphs into overstimulation. It hurts so good that Taehyung is collapsing into the couch, kicking and bucking and crying as Jimin keeps going, his hand pumping, mouth sucking.

If there is a god, there must be a devil. And if there is a devil, Taehyung knows that he is between Taehyung’s legs, working him to another orgasm somehow, driving Taehyung to madness as he goes. Jimin pulls off Taehyung’s dick with a sticky sound, moaning sweetly at the mess Taehyung has become.

“You can take it,” Jimin coos. “I know you can. You said you can.”

Taehyung nods. Tears sting his eyes and he tries to take a deep breath. He blinks his eyes open, watching as the ceiling swims into picture, a little blurry from the tears. He takes deep, shuttering inhales, his lungs rattling as he does. When he looks down at Jimin, he wishes he didn’t open his eyes.

He almost doesn’t recognize whatever it is that is laving at his weeping cock. Jimin’s face is crueler somehow. More beautiful, but terrifying. Taehyung swears the veins around his eyes are darker and the scrape of his teeth is sharper.

The orgasm must have made him delirious. It’s the only explanation, especially as Jimin works him hard again, Taehyung aching to explode once more.

Jimin pulls off of Taehyung and crawls upward. Taehyung thinks Jimin looks like an apex predator for a single, terrifying moment. And then Jimin is kissing him, making Taehuyng’s thoughts turn to white noise as Taehyung presses his tongue into Jimin’s mouth, tasting spit and cum and something like iron and salt.

Something pricks Taehyung’s mouth. He lets out a surprised sound, his mouth filling with a warm, metallic substance. Jimin’s kiss becomes frenzied. The force of it startles Taehyung, fear wiggling its way into his mind as Jimin presses down on him.

Jimin becomes overwhelmed. A force that Taehyung cannot escape, completely trapped and helpless, still dizzy and uncoordinated from the overstimulation. It excites him. Taehyung realizes with mild terror that he likes this feeling, likes being overpowered and pushed to the edge.

He lets Jimin suck greedily on his bleeding lip. He’s too focused on the ache between his legs and the mind-melting way Jimin makes him feel to realize that Jimin is hyper-fixated on his bleeding mouth. He kisses Jimin back as best as he can, though it’s more of a slide of lips and tongue than an intentional kiss.

“Turn over for me,” Jimin grumbles. He’s already gripping Taehuyng and trying to turn him over. Taehyung struggles to make his limbs work but manages to flip, mostly due to Jimin lifting him and turning him, once again showing how strong he is. “Gonna work you open for my cock.”

A pathetic sound escapes Taehyung’s mouth. His cheek hits the soft velvet. It’s grounding, feeling the gentle scrape of it against his sensitive skin. His cock is pressed tight between his stomach and the cushions, but it’s less invasive than Jimin’s hungry mouth, a brief respite.

Wet lips trail Taehyung’s spine as Jimin descends. Taehyung’s breathing is ragged and heavy, gulping down cool air as he trembles under Jimin’s rough mouth. He likes that Jimin doesn’t handle him with kid gloves. That Jimin keeps Taehyung to his word, driving him into a manic state.

Taehyung still feels like he’s on the edge of that mania when he feels Jimin’s fingers slip between his ass, seeking. He flinches when Jimin brushes against his tight rim, the muscles clenching, afraid. Jimin laughs but doesn’t push it, instead peeling Taehyung apart to spit noisily.

A gentle sigh drips from Taehyung’s mouth. He feels the spit slide, the sensation heightened. Jimin’s finger traces after it, circling Taehyung’s asshole lightly. His toes curl at the light stimulation. It feels good, but it’s hard to control the muscle's instinct to reject and contract.

Jimin doesn’t seem to mind. He leans forward, his fingers pressed firmly in the seam of Taehyung’s ass, his mouth pressing butterfly-soft kisses to Taehyung’s spine.

Taehyung feels like Jimin’s instrument. Jimin works him open slowly and gently, at ends with how he was driving Taehyung to madness minutes prior. The swing to gentle and soothing has Taehyung confused and reeling, his brain trying to keep up with the sensations tingling through his body.

When Jimin slowly breaches Taehyung’s tight ring of muscles, he lets out a pathetic keen. Taehyung is too loose-limbed and fuzzy-brained to do anything but take it. The intrusion burns for a second, but levels out to be pleasurable.

Cold liquid slides down Jimin’s fingers, easing the slide. Taehyung sighs, relief unfurling slowly as the burn goes quiet and all that’s left is the stretch and the pressure of Jimin working Taehyung’s walls open. Toe-curling pleasure sweeps through Taehyung. He bites his bottom lip, lifting his ass in small, half-hearted twitches to meet the push and pull of Jimin’s fingers.

“Mhmm,” Jimin encourages, teeth scraping Taehyung’s shoulder blade. His breath is cool on Taehyung’s warm skin. “Take what you want, sweetling. Open yourself up for me.”

It smells like sweat and orange blossoms, Taehyung’s skin covered in their mixed scents. His sensitive cock drags against the fabric of the couch, sparking pleasure and pain as he fucks himself into the palm of Jimin’s hand. Jimin’s fingers are small but do the job, pressing against the most sensitive parts of Taehyung, making his breath ragged.

Everything feels like it’s on fire as Jimin pushes in another finger. Taehyung feels the wet schlick of lube or whatever Jimin has used to make the slide easier. He feels fuller, moaning like a whore as he chases the electric feeling under his skin, coming alive under the careful press of Jimin’s fingers.

“So good for me,” Jimin whispers, biting Taeyung’s ear. His breath is hot against the side of Taehyung’s face. “Gonna take my cock so well, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Fuck,” Jimin swears. “I can’t wait. This is what you do to me.”

Jimin pulls his fingers out. Taehyung complains, feeling the empty gape. Jimin shushes him and presses his clothed cock against Taehyung’s ass, letting him feel how hard Jimin is. Taehyung grinds his ass against Jimin’s crotch, making the other moan.

A shirt flys past Taehyung. He realizes that it must be Jimin’s turning and angling his head to see the man in question. He is utterly divine, his compact body graceful and deadly, lined with muscle and delicate lines. Jimin undoes the belt of his jeans and pulls them down, palming himself over his briefs as he kicks out of his pants.

Taehyung can’t help but stare, lips parted. Jimin is a vision, his face still masked in something lethal and terrifying that makes Taehyung excited and afraid all at the same time. The mixture is intoxicating, sending his thoughts somewhere distant and fuzzy where all he can do is watch Jimin pull his briefs down to reveal a thick, leaking cock.

On instinct, Taehyung scoots toward Jimin. The other laughs, giving Taehyung a quick, harsh smack on the ass. His skin stings where Jimin’s hand connects, earning a whimper. Jimin tuts at Taehyung, fisting his cock leisurely as he does.

“So needy,” he grumbles. “So hungry for cock. You’re just like Carmen, you know? Addicting, needy, breaking down my will to give you whatever you want. This must be how Jose felt, ready to give her everything. Pliable. So willing.”

“And you? How do you feel?”

Jimin’s gaze is dark and heavy. Taehyung holds his breath, pinned to the spot. He feels Jimin’s cockhead nudge the tight rim of his ass as Jimin settles behind him, looking at Taehyung so intensely that Taehyung feels as though he will wither away. Ashes to ashes.

“Like I want to give you the world.”

“Please.”

“You have to give it back. You have to be mine.”

Taehyung is nodding before Jimin even finishes his sentence. Taehyung will give him anything he wants, as long as it means Jimin will push forward and relieve the aching weight of Taehyung’s needs. He is filled with so much carnal desire he thinks he would do anything Jimin asks of him.

“Yours,” Taehyung agrees. He tries to push back and spear himself on Jimin’s cock, but Jimin’s grip is iron, holding him in place. “Yours.”

That’s all it takes for Jimin to sigh, pleased. He pushes in slowly, Taehyung gasping and grabbing the couch at the intrusion. His walls flutter around Jimin’s cock. It’s a tight fit, a slow, pleasure-filled agony that ripples through him.

Taehyung is hyper aware of how full he feels. It is perfect, his mind turning to static as he lays his face down on the couch, breathing strained and heart hammering. Jimin praises him gently, coaxing Taehyung to calm down with gentle kisses on the back of his neck, shoulders, and head. Jimin is fully seated, his hips pressed to Taehyung’s ass. It feels good, the pain retreating and leaving nothing but bliss in its wake.

Jimin pulls out, the rough drag of his cock sending Taehyung into a spiral before Jimin snaps his hips forward again. Taehyung lets out a desperate sound, feeling his eyes roll back into his head as Jimin starts to fuck him slowly.

It feels hot. Jimin cages Taehyung in, his chest pressed to Taehyung’s back, humid air trapped between their bodies. Jimin’s skin is cool to the touch, such a contrast to the warmth radiating from Taehyung. The mix of hot and cold only heightens the sensations, everything feeling sharp and powerful.

Jimin’s teeth scrape Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung doesn’t know why, but he leans his head to the side, giving Jimin free access to litter his throat with sloppy kisses. Taehyung feels broken under the weight of Jimin’s thrusts, the wet sound of his cock pushing deeper into Taehyung until it’s pressing against the deepest part of him, making Taehyung kick his feet as the pleasure builds.

It’s so good it hurts. Taehyung is reeling, having never felt like this when being fucked. Jimin chuckles darkly against his ear, tongue licking the shell of Taehyung’s ear before whispering, “You take it so well.” Taehyung whines in response, pushing his ass back to meet Jimin’s hips as best as he can. “Such an eager little slut. Everyone can hear you getting fucked - do you like that?”

Taehyung nods his head. Jimin grabs him by the hair, pulling Taehyung upward so that Jimin’s chin is slotted on Taehyung’s shoulder. Taehyung’s neck cranes painfully and he opens his eyes, looking at Jimin’s side profile.

“I said do you like that?”

“Yes!”

“Come here, let’s show them.”

Everything goes off balance. Jimin picks Taehyung up off of the couch like he’s a ragdoll, spinning him so that his feet hit the ground and he’s pushed up against the balcony railing. He barely has the coordination to plant his feet on the ground and grab the railing before Jimin is pressing back in, splitting him apart for everyone to see.

Taehyung casts his head back, eyes closed. He doesn’t want to look down, doesn’t want to see the faces of the onlookers as he moans loudly, feeling flushed and breathy as Jimin fucks him hard. Taehyung sees stars behind his eyelid, laying his head back on Jimin’s shoulders, his hands gripping the railing as Jimin hammers into Taehyung’s prostate.

It feels like Taehyung’s blood is on fire. Something like glee unfurls in him at the thought of everyone below seeing how perfect he is for Jimin. That Jimin chose Taehyung and no one else. That Taehyung is the perfect, pliant partner for Jimin. He doesn’t want to see their faces - he’s too shy for now - but he silently revels in the fact that they’ll know from this moment forward that Taehyung is Jimin’s in some capacity.

His mind hasn’t caught up to what exactly that capacity is, blinded by the way he teeters on the edge of coming again.

“This is going to hurt at first,” Jimin whispers against Taehyung’s throat.

There’s a brief moment of confusion. Taehyung is unable to think beyond the thick, heady haze clouding his mind, but then searing pain rips through his neck. His eyes fly open and he gasps, too shocked to scream properly where he feels blinding pain throbbing from the side of his throat.

Taehyung’s hand shoots up to Jimin’s face, digging in his hair. Jimin’s mouth is pressed against Taehyung’s throat and it takes a moment for Taehyung to realize Jimin is biting him clean through the skin.

Panic shoots through him. He clutches at Jimin’s hair, pulling tight at the strands to pull him off. Jimin doesn’t budge, his mouth fixed to the tender flesh of Taehyung’s throat. Then Taehyung feels Jimin’s tongue. The subtle pull of his mouth, the drag of his blood.

The pain fades into something else. His neck tingles, fire replaced with numbness. Taehyung’s eyes flutter shut as a high unlike anything else hits him. Jimin is still fucking him, his pace picking up, his thrusts becoming savage as he takes deep swallows at Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung is vaguely aware that Jimin is drinking his blood. He can’t process beyond that acknowledgement, too caught up in the euphoria glittering through his veins, turning his blood to molten lava. His head falls forward, too heavy for him to hold up, eyes closed and sinking into the feeling.

His orgasm comes swift and hard. Every muscle in Taehyung’s body squeezes tight with a force he’s never felt. It feels like he might collapse in on himself, a star going supernova before it implodes, sucking everything inward.

Jimin lets go of Taehyung's neck, gasping as he feels Taehyung squeezes his cock. The wet gurgle of a moan from Jimin’s mouth makes Taehyung turn and look at him. Taehyung is bent over the railing now, sweaty chest sliding back and forth as Jimin’s hips jostle him. Jimin is standing straight, his hands gripping Taehyung’s hips to hold him in place as he fucks him viciously, chasing his high.

But what freezes Taehyung in place isn’t the powerful body driving him into overstimulation. It isn’t the beautiful, lithe lines of Jimin’s chest and arms or the beautiful way his eyes drink Taehyung in. It’s the blood running down Jimin’s neck and chest that startles him. The crimson smear across Jimin’s mouth, which is parted as Jimin tilts his head upward, tongue coming out to run across his bottom lip.

A glint of white catches Taehyung’s eyes and his heart stops. Two fangs, stark against the wine-red mouth filled with blood - Taehyung’s blood. His heart skyrockets for a whole new reason and he tries to think but his mind is too slow. Sluggish. Still crawling through the high that Jimin’s bite injected him with.

“Jimin?” it comes out slurred and terrified as Taehyung watches Jimin lower his face, eyes finding Taehyung. He still looks beautiful with the lower half of his face colored in blood, but he is terrifying, and destructive. Taehyung thinks he might die of fright even as his stomach flips with arousal again. “What…?”

“Look at them,” Jimin grins, mouth a red gash. He grabs Taehyung's hair and forces the boy to turn toward the scene below. “Look how they waited so patiently for me to start. To fuck, to feed. They waited for you - to come and bleed. They don’t indulge until you’re done, my sweet Carmen.”

It takes several moments for Taehyung to piece together the tableau unfolding beneath him. What appears to be a mess of blurry images and sounds morphs into something else, the edges of his clarity sharpening as Taehyung blinks through the fog of pleasure. What he thought was going to be patrons looking up at the balcony as he’s ravaged is not at all the case.

Below is unleashed carnal energy. He sees bodies writhing. Scarlet ribbons of blood flowing down necks, in between thighs, down shoulders. His eyes sweep the landscape of bodies fucking and thrusting and bending, of screaming of pinning down, of biting.

Vampires.

The word suddenly comes to Taehyung in a moment of clarity, the word ringing out so clearly in his mind that he jerks upward underneath Jimin’s grip. The vampires below chase the humans in the room. Taehyung realizes that all of the patrons dressed in finery are slamming people dressed in plain clothes to the ground and onto furniture, fixing their mouths on them, and ripping their shirts open.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung breathes, finally breaking free of the murky mist of lust. “What are you?”

Jimin presses against Taehyung, slamming his hips in deep one more time as he comes with a feral growl. His hands are tight in Taehyung’s hair and his mouth is rough against his ear. “I’m yours,” Jimin answers, voice low. “I’m José and you are my Carmen.”

Dizziness sweeps over Taehyung, feeling like darkness is racing up to greet him. “Yours,” Taehyung agrees, slow blinking as Jimin’s teeth sink into his shoulder again. “Your Carmen.”

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Please note: typically I would reblog with my tag list, but this drop is scheduled while I am traveling and I am unable to reblog and tag, so I’ve just done it as part of the main body.

#vmin smut #jimin x taehyung #taehyung x jimin #taehyung smut #jimin smut #bts smut #member x member #vampire jimin #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jimin fanfic #minors dni #minors do not interact #happy halloween!!!

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inej-ruination-ghafa · 8 months ago

Text

bigger than the whole sky - g.h

midnights masterlist | the great war | paris

summary: the one where you admit your feelings for Gale and then the world falls apart

wordcount: 4.0k

warnings: mass bombings, death, mass murder, the bombing of District 12 was similar to a genocide so beware of that

“Can I ask you a question?” You looked up at him, lifting your head up from his shoulder.

He nodded and you were silent. How did you ask him if he still loved Katniss even if she was in the games again? How do you find out if he loves you back? You wished you could put up more of a fight, ask him the truth but you couldn’t do it.

“Do you still wish you could-“ you stopped yourself, rewording again in your head. You couldn’t just ask him if he still loved her like that, “Do you think Katniss could make it out?”

He nodded, “I do,” there was silence after that and to you, that answered both of your questions.

If you could, you would spend your whole life sitting on that hill with Gale, watching the sun set across the meadows. He had asked you to run away with him only a year earlier and this part of you wished that you had gone with him when he asked.

You never liked Gale. Throughout your entire time at school, he was the most annoying person to you and you only ever talked to him when Katnis did.

She was your best friend, the other half of you and you two would go out into these woods whenever you could. She was good at hunting and you were relatively good at the dressing and then selling it.

Around three years ago, she had invited Gale out into the woods with you and since the moment that he caught you from falling into the river, you had become inseparable; you’d learnt that he wasnt as annoying as you had always assumed.

Before the 74th Hunger Games, you had realised your crush on Gale. You had ignored it, buried it down into your chest so that nobody else would know. You knew he had feelings for Katniss and so you left it alone.

When she went into the games the first time, you had become inseparable with Gale, more so than ever before. Now, as she was in it again, you leant on one another. You don’t remember who you were before him.

“We should go,” you said, stopping your reminicising as you looked at him. You were getting lost in situations and circumstances and the small chance that maybe he had feelings for you to. You couldn’t allow yourself to think like that.

Since Katniss went into the 75th games, the peacekeeper prescience had increased and neither of you felt safe on the hill anymore.

He nodded, standing up and offering his hand for you. He pulled you up and you stumbled a little bit, bracing yourself on his chest.

You looked at him, eyes slightly wide. You were so close you could kiss him here, kiss him in the isolation of the meadow. A part of you wondered whether his eyes actually did just flick between your lips and your eyes or if your love was blinding you.

You muttered a thank you before pulling yourself away. You knew where he stood, you knew he loved Katniss and you knew he wouldnt kiss you back if you did it.

So instead, you looked away, tears burning behind your eyes as you thought of it.

The walk back to the square was slow. The entirety of District Twelve were feeling the effects of the games. There were peacekeepers everywhere, they were blocking the black markets and people were starting to starve.

You spotted Gales family in the crowd and the two of you walked over, his arm wrapped round you to keep you close - he knew how much you hated the crowds.

Hazelle, his mother, gave you a warm smile as the two of you joined the crowds that were watching the games. It was mandatory at this point, to watch the games as it came to its end. The sun was setting over Twelve but within the games, it was pitch black.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you watched the games unfold. Katniss had just been presumably attacked by Johanna in the woods and you gasped alongside all of the other members of Twelve.

You looked up at Gale and you could see the fear in his eyes. You could feel your stomach sink; you hated the way that he looked at her.

It was sick. You knew that it was wrong. You shouldn’t envy a girl who had been put into the games twice within two years but you wished he would look at you that way, with that adoration in his eyes.

You reached down, grabbing his hand and squeezing it. He squeezed it back, a signal that you two had developed over the years to make sure that each other were okay when silence was mandatory.

There was silence over District Twelve as they all watched the games on the big screen. The only noise that could be heard was the commotion of the games and the sound of Peacekeepers clicking their guns into place.

It was silent as you all watched Katniss wrap the coil around her arrow and aim it at the sky. You could hear Gales breath hitch in his chest as she shot the arrow into the force field that surrounded the games.

The lights cut out.

Everyone looked at one another as they wondered why the feed in the games had cut out? What was going on? Why did Katniss do that? What was going to happen next? Every single thing she touched turned into ashes, it all fell apart in her hands and now she had taken control. If this was an act of rebellion, you would be proud of her.

Everyone was asking themselves the same questions about the commotion in the games and so were the Peacekeepers as they looked at one another, all of them listening to some sort of comms message in their headsets.

Hazelle grabbed the boys tight, Rory was about thirteen and Vick ten but it didnt stop her from being worried about them. She looked over at the two of you, wondering if there was some plan that you knew about and she didn’t.

gale just shook his head. None of them knew what was going on.

Posy, his five year old sister, tugged onto his trouser leg and he looked down at her. She was so young to have to watch this all unfold and now something was really wrong, he didnt want her getting caught up in anything. He picked her up, holding her against his chest, her head tucked into his shoulder.

You reached over, brushing a hand over her hair and she looked at you with a smile. She had no clue what was going on, only that something was clearly wrong.

“What are we going to do?” You said quietly as you leaned over, looking up at him.

He shrugged. Gale was so confused, “She’s rebelled, we’re all in trouble,” he replied, pursing his lips when he saw a Peacekeeper walk past.

The commotion was starting to turn to chaos. The members of District twelve were beginning to yell and ask for answers, wondering why their heroic Katniss would do something like this. They needed answers or this would soon become a mob.

Thats when he walked on stage, Head Peacekeeper Thread.

You could see Gale visibly tense up at the sight of him. You would never be able to remove the image of him tied up to that post, getting whipped over and over again out of your head. It was the worst thing you had ever seen and it had happened to the man you loved. Now the man responsible for it was parading around town, destroying the soul of your beloved district.

He tapped the microphone before speaking into it with his gruff and unkind voice, “Everyone back to your house!” He yelled out.

The crowd went silent at the mans demand. This was proof that something had gone wrong in the arena and everyone had a guess what it was; an uprising.

”Now” he commanded and everyone started to disperse.

You followed Gale and his family home, Hazelle didn't want you to be alone in that hostel you were staying at with all of those people in the dodgy side of town.

Everyone was silent as they walked towards their houses. There was an air of something and you could tell that there was a tension. Nobody had any answers and the Peacekeepers basically locking them in their houses made people anxious.

She sat in the living room of Gales house, unable to sit down. Your best friend was in that arena and nobody had any clue what was going on and it made you sick to the stomach. Then the thought of Gale worrying about her made her ill too and she grabbed onto the mantelpiece, looking at the only ever picture of their full family before the mining accident.

“You okay darling?” Hazelle asked and you turned around, putting on a smile.

“Just stressed, but everyone is,” you shrugged, trying to seem positive.

She nodded, “This is bad, isn’t it?” You could hear the fear in her voice and you wished that there was something that you could say to calm her nerves but this was really bad.

With hesitance, you nodded your head, “Let’s just wait, we dont need to jump to conclusions,” you said before excusing yourself.

You walked into Gales room and sat down on his bed. A smile came to your face as you looked at the picture that rested on his bedside table. It was the only picture that the two of you shared and it was from the party thrown for all nineteen year olds when they aged out of the games. You both had the widest grins on your faces.

“Thats my favourite picture in the world,” he stated.

A bitter feeling soaked through your chest as you put it back, eyes landing of the one of him and Katniss and Prim, “I thought that was,”

Gale didnt seem to get the hint because he just shrugged it off, sitting down nect to you, “Nah, you’re too pretty in that one,” he teased.

“Gale,” you chastised. He knew that you hated it when he complimented you but he always did it anyway.

He always assumed that you must have been self conscious and didnt like the compliments for that reason. It was actually because it hurt too much when he would compliment you, like the words burnt a hole in your chest because you knew that he didnt love you like you wanted him to.

It was wrong to be thinking about that, to be jealous of your best friend just because of some guy, especially in the situation you were in right now but you couldn’t help the way it bubbled up in your chest. He made it worse as he placed his hand on your shoulder, trying to reassure you it was okay.

“If she rebelled-“ you started to say.

He cut you off nearly immediately, “She did, she finally rebelled,” there was a sense of pride in his words and there it came again, that wave of bile in your throat.

”Fine,” you spat the words out and he instantly noticed how cold you were being, “This is bad Gale. She’s got us in trouble. They might kill us for knowing her,”

Like any best friend would, he sensed your worry and reached down, grabbing your hand and squeezing it once just like he had when you were watching the attack. It would normally calm you down but all of your emotions were heightened and you didnt even realise what you were doing before you tugged your hand away.

He muttered your name and you stood up, hands covering your stomach like you were trying to fight away the sickening feeling.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

You shrugged, turning away from him. You couldn’t even look at him. There was some part of you that could see the end coming and it was trying to tell him how you felt. You had to use all of your strength to push those words down.

You shook your head, “I’m scared,”

You couldn’t see him but you knew that he had stood up because there was a loud noise of a spring creaking that always came from standing up off of his old bed.

“What’s going on?” He repeated the question, this time more forcefully.

The tension was rising in the room and you could feel your head pounding. You couldnt bring yourself to turn around and look at him, have a normal conversation like a civilised human. You knew that if you turned around and looked into his gorgeous eyes that you would fall apart, spewing out all of the feelings that you had been burying in the last year.

“Leave it Gale, its not worth it,” your voice was less aggressive now, just quiet. You had a lot to pine about, all of these years you pined over him and now knowing you could tell him was breaking your heart.

“If we’re gonna die then you might as well tell me,” he stated.

He was right and you hated that. This might be your last time to ever tell him and even then you couldnt bring yourself to say it. You felt the shame of cowardice bubbling up in your chest.

You could live without saying those words. You’ve got a lot that you’ve lived without over the years but something in you told you that you should say it. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life, however short it is, wondering what should’ve been. And if it’s not meant to be, then it’ll be over anyway,

“Don’t make me do it,”

He placed a hand on your shoulder, “Just tell me,” he spun you around and you squeezed your eyes shut so you didn’t have to look at him.

He could see the tear that had slipped down your cheek and he knew that this was big. He muttered a please, soft and begging compared to your argument. You could only imagine what his family was thinking as you yelled - you two always argued but never yelled.

You opened your eyes hesitantly, watching as his eyes softened, “I love you,” you whispered, so only he could hear.

The Peacekeepers may be planning the end for them. They may be planning to round everyone up and shoot them, you didn't know. But at least you would die knowing that he knew how you truly felt.

His hand recoiled, and his eyes went wide. Horror washed over you. He didn't feel the same. This is what you had been fearing this whole time, that you would tell him how you felt, and he wouldn't reciprocate your feelings.

There was silence in the village, no sound of children crying, couples arguing. Silence. All that you could hear was the blood rushing to your head as you realised what mistake you’d made.

You closed your eyes shut, arms wrapping around yourself as you tried to hide away from his gaze as he worked out what to say next.

“Say it again,” he asked.

Your eyes fluttered open, confused. When you looked at him, he had a smile on his face, and you were confused.

With a shake of your head, you looked down at your feet, blinking back tears, “Don’t mock me,”

you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone in your life. Your heart was shattering at the idea that you might die and this would be the last thing that had ever happened to you.

He walked over and you could see his feet appear in your vision. His hand came out, two fingers under your chin to tilt your head up so that you were looking at him. His eyes softened when he saw the tears spill down your cheeks.

He repeated the sentiment again, “Say it again,”

“I love you,” you whispered, even more quiet than before.

There was silence in the room and he broke it with a laugh, “I love you,” he replied before you could scolded him for laughing, “Thats what you were so scared of saying?” He laughed again, “I thought it was obvious that I was madly in love with you,”

Your eyes widened and you hit his chest, hand staying there, “Obvious? No, I thought you loved Katniss?”

He shook his head, “Back then. But she’s got Peeta, and she doesnt love me. Never will. You’re not my second choice, I just didnt see it back then. You’re all Ive ever wanted,”

You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning up and smashing your lips against his. His hands moved to your back, holding you close against his. One hand trailed up your spine, nestling in the back of your head as he manoeuvred your head slightly so that the kiss could be deepened.

For a second, you forgot all about the awful things that might happen and the fears for the rest of your life now that Katniss had destroyed the Games. You just stayed in this moment, allowing yourself to hold him tight.

You pulled away from him, the moment having been interrupted by the loud noise that ricocheted throughout the village as all of the engines pulled out at once. The sound of the truck engines all igniting at the same time made you both look at one another in panic.

There was a sinking feeling in your gut that had been getting progressively worse throughout the evening and now, as you rushed to the window and drew back the curtain to see the armoured trucks vanishing into the distance, it got worse.

The fear for your best friend was still echoing in the back of your mind but now, as you realised that they were all leaving, the panic set in.

You and Gale shared a worried look, “They’re leaving,” you mumbled, almost to yourself.

He nodded. There was a silence in the room as you both stood by the window. You both knew what was going on and what this all meant and the adrenaline started to pump through your body.

Gale leaned over, pressing one more kiss against your lips like it would be the last time that he would ever get to do it.

“We have to go, now,” he said and you agreed. You both knew what was gong to happen.

You rushed into his little sisters room, shaking Posey awake, “What’s wrong?” She asked, mumbling through sleep.

You didnt know how to explain it to her, “We’re just going on a little walk, grab your favourite teddy,” you said and she nodded, picking up the little teddy bear her father had given her.

“I’m sleepy,” she mumbled, holding her arms out. You couldn’t deny her and so you picked her up, hauling her into your arms.

When you walked out into the kitchen, you could see Hazelle packing some backpacks full of all of the food that they owned with canisters of water attached. The boys were helping; they were at the age where they could realise what was going on in the world, and they knew what would happen if they weren't fast.

“Where’s Gale?” You questioned, looking around.

“Him and some of the other men are trying to pull everyone out of bed and to the forest,” she explained, walking over and pressing a kiss to Poseys head, “You should help him,”

You nodded your head in agreement, settling the little girl down onto the sofa before promising to come back. You started to rush through the village, knocking on all of the doors that werent closed.

A lot of them had already started packing, but there were a few who weren't. She could see Mr and Mrs Wentworth closing their door, telling one of Gales friends from the mines that he did not want to go.

You looked around and noticed just how many people were refusing to leave, and that’s when you realised that if everyone did not get out soon and start heading to the forest, then there would be nobody left.

In the far corner of the village, she could see Gale arguing with a young woman with a baby. You rushed over, a hand on his shoulder.

“Please tell this man that I will not leave. The Capitol will not kill us, hes crazy,” she demanded, her baby screaming now.

“Miss, we have to leave, they will kill us,” you tried to reason.

She scoffed before turning around and shutting the door to her house.

You looked up at Gale and checked your watch. It had been 5 minutes since the trucks pulled out, “We need to go,”

he nodded. You both knew that this was going to be bad if they stayed for too long. The other men from the mines were rounding up as many people as they could but some didn’t believe and some were too scared of the forest to go with them there.

“I’ll go grab the last group over there, and I’ll meet you out there at our spot,” he promised.

You shook your head, “We’re not splitting up,”

”We have to,” he said, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips, “I love you,” he rushed off into the distance, and you knew this was it. You had to go now.

You spotted Katniss’ mother and Prim in the distance and you rushed over to them, “Let’s go,” you said.

“Will they really bomb us?” Prim asked.

“I think so, kid,” you replied.

You watched as Gales family came out of their house with some supplies, and then you knew you had everyone you needed. You stood up on a box and looked out at the group.

“Everyone, please follow me to the forest. Don’t be scared, we will be safe out there,” you called out and as you walked, you looked behind you.

You were disappointed at the lack of people there, maybe only four hundred or so. There were so many people in Dsitrict Twelve that werent coming.

It was chaos. Your group were heading towards the forest and everyone else to the main road, thinking they could find help there. You knew the Captiol would let everyone die. There would be no survivors if they got caught.

You and your group reached the border, and that’s when you saw the bombers flying over. You escorted everyone out, helping the young girl and her baby sister through the cracks through, lending a hand to the elderly couple.

the group walked up to the hill, and your heart was pounding as you watched them start to bomb the Distirct. Then you looked around.

Gale was missing.

Your heart was pounding in your chest as you realised that he was gone. He was gone, and you didn't know where he was. He might still be in there.

You were about to start panicking when you saw another group head up the hill, and you ran into his arms, holding him tight. You flinched at the sound of the bombs, but it was safe here, they didnt know they were here.

“I thought you were dead,” you muttered, helping him up the hill to his family.

He chuckled, “Coudnt get rid of me that easily,” he joked.

You shook your head, grabbing his hand and holdng it as you stood at the top of the hill. He squeezed it when he felt you tense up at the sound of the bombs.

Everyone watched as the bombers circled around, bombing down the main road at those that were trying to run to safety.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you watched them all die in the explosions. None of you could have done anything to help them and bring them back. You looked up at Gale, and he pulled you into his side. You watched a tear slip down his cheek at the sight of all of those who died. There were no words in the aftermath of the bombing. The knowledge that everyone had died weighed heavy on their hearts.

915 from District Twelve. You were the only ones who made it out alive. The war had just begun.

#gale hawthorne #gale hawthorne x reader #gale hawthorne x you #gale hawthorne fanfiction #hunger games #the hunger games #hunger games fanfiction #thg fanfiction #gale hawthorne x y/n #gale hawthorne self insert #gale hunger games #hunger games gale #hunger games fanfic #gale hawthorne angst #tw mass murder #liam hemsworth #liam hemsworth x reader #mj 1000 followers celebration #midnights celebration

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spicyclover · 1 year ago

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Delilah | Part two

Summary: “ Hey there, Delilah I know times are gettin' hard But just believe me, girl Someday I'll pay the bills with this guitar We'll have it good We'll have the life we knew we would My word is good “

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Hope you’ll enjoy this part. Let me know in the comments section!

I'm open to requests.

Thank you, and Enjoy! :)

Lots of love, xxx Spicy Clover

You kiss her head and close the door getting back to the living room. Paola returned to her apartment, and you sat by the door, wondering what to do.

You’ve had an exhausting week. The lack of sleep and the anxiety of seeing him again is eating away at you. You have nightmares. Each time the same. You are in front of his house six years earlier, begging him to let you in. The rain is falling, and you are wet. Your tears mingle with the rain, and you’re exhausted from banging on his door. You end up collapsing on the ground, curling up on yourself. The dream keeps repeating itself, and you wake up with a start every time the door opens.

Your eyes widen, and you struggle to find your breath. You frantically search around you without knowing exactly what you are looking for. You are hot. The sheets are soaked with sweat, and you sigh by passing your hand on your face. It can’t last any longer. You look at the time on the dial on your bedside table and blow more, knowing it’s just four in the morning. “So much for your sleep.” You take your phone and look at the messages you received. Your mother sent you a mem of a cat, and you smile tenderly, noticing the resemblance with Cato. Speaking of which, he enters the room discreetly and rests at the edge of the bed. "Of course, he heard me." You look at him briefly before he turns to the door.

It is not possible, this cat. No matter what time he asks for food. You whisper it is not time, and he shakes his disgruntled tail. You keep watching the news and your networks. You follow the F1 closely and pass their story one after the other. The Spanish Grand Prix is fast approaching. Delilah always dreams of going there and seeing the cars in real life. You look at the time again, and already two hours are gone. You decide to get up and start the routine.

The hours go by, and the idea is always in your head. Why not go? There is no harm. What could happen? That you meet him, that he recognizes you, that he sees Delilah, that he ignores you and ignores her at the same time and that your daughter’s little heart is broken again... Out of the question! You are on the bus back, and your mind is lost in your contacts. You are in his name. You never managed to get his number off your phone or his nickname simultaneously. Your thumbs overlook his name without touching him. Your brain hesitates, but your body seems to want to decide for itself.

The bus stops suddenly, and you press the call button. Panic invades you, and you look at your phone with big eyes. You get it near your ear.

"Sorry, the number you’re trying to reach is no longer available."

He changed his number. Surprisingly, your heart is tightening. You’ve invaded with vomiting. He changed his number. That asshole changed his number. You know it’s not necessarily your fault, but you can’t help but think about it. He didn’t even send you a message to warn you. Tears come up, but you refuse to let them down. He doesn’t deserve your tears. He abandoned you. He... he broke your heart.

You put your keys in the lock and the ball in your belly. What are you going to do now? Delilah will never recover. She wanted you to contact him so she could see him at least once. You don’t want to break that hope in her. It’s so hard. Not having her father present for her is already so hard. Not having two signatures in her school notebook. Not being related to his father’s side. Not having him at her dance shows. Not having him for her birthdays.

You open the door with a heavy heart and a full head. Delilah sits quietly in the living room and draws. She is so wise. You thank Paola, and you sit next to her.

"Delilah, cariño, escúchame." You say, caressing her long hair. "Sé que realmente quieres conocer a tu padre y yo..." Delilah, baby, listen to me. I know you really want to meet your dad, and I..."

"¿Te pusiste en contacto con él?" She asks, starry eyes. "¿Quiere verme? ¿Dijo qué? ¿Cuándo lo vemos?" She gets increasingly excited, and you feel bad breaking her dream. Did you contact him? He wants to see me? He said what? When do we see him?

You don’t know why or how. But the lie that came out of your mouth sealed your destiny.

"Sí, e incluso dijo que lo vamos a visitar en Madrid. Vamos a pasar algún tiempo con la abuela y el abuelo." You want to bang your head against a wall. Why couldn’t you admit to your daughter that her father didn’t warn you about his number change? It wasn’t hard to say you couldn’t get in touch with him, and he didn’t want to see her… Yes, and he even said we’ll visit him in Madrid. We’re going to spend some time with Grandma and Grandpa.

You got yourself in a mess.

The end of the month is here, and you get on the train to your parents' country house. You haven’t been there in five years and for good reason. Last time you were here, you were so pregnant with your daughter. Your mother begged you for weeks to come home and spend a few days trying to reconcile your relationship with your father, but he wouldn’t listen and went fishing all the time you were there.

You walked in the fields with your mother to try to get her out. You laughed when you saw Blanca in the distance. You quickly turned around to avoid her, and your mother followed you. You heard her call you, but you ignored her. Fortunately, your oversized coat hid your belly, and you could leave without further incident. You took a train ticket that night to avoid another incident, and you’re saying goodbye to your mother and hometown with big tears. A few days later, when you arrived in Fuengirola, you gave birth. You texted him to tell him she was born, but you never got an answer. So you didn’t insist, and you gave up.

The landscapes pass by, and you get to fall from the night in the small village. Delilah is asleep, and you take her off the train thanking the nice Samaritan who helped you get your bags out of the vehicle. You then found your mother waiting at the entrance of the station. She greets you with open arms and embraces tenderly the forehead of Delilah, who sleeps in your arms. You thank her kindly for taking your bags, and you head to the car. The headlights are on, and you’re surprised to see your dad sitting in the driver’s seat, but you don’t say anything. You don’t know how to react by getting closer to the car. He comes out and approaches you. No words are exchanged, but you know he forgave you. He hugs you and kisses your temple before he takes Delilah and puts her in the car seat.

The ride is quiet, and you end up falling asleep at the noise of the road. Two hours of the car are between the city center and the house. This dream-free sleep does you good, and you recover the energy that left you that last month. The vehicle is parked, and you wake up. Your eyes are looking at the garden where you spent all your childhood and the house that saw you grow up. Six years have passed. You cannot believe it. Delilah wakes up beside you, and you smile tenderly. The energy took her, and she began to admire everything around her. She greets her grandpa and grandmother warmly before running around the garden laughing.

The first few days go well. Your parents get to know your daughter, and you gradually regain your strength. You’re happy to find your father. After so many years, you’re pleased to be able to hug him and watch your favourite show together again. You took a stroll through the city and its surroundings. Delilah got a nice bike, and your father has been teaching her to do it for a few days. You talk to your mother, and you miss your complicity.

You spend a lot of time biking and enjoying nature. It changes the urban landscapes that you’re used to seeing. Delilah is riding a pony for the first time and doesn’t want to let it go. She eats pony, laughs pony, plays pony, and wants a pony.

You regret that your mother had this idea, but seeing Delilah so happy does you good. Maybe she will forget her father...You spoke with your parents about Delilah’s desire to meet her dad. To be able to see him. You talked about your fears and the hard years you’ve been through alone. Your father feels guilty that he couldn’t put his ego aside so that you could stay close to them, but you reassure him that you don’t regret anything. Seeing your daughter smile daily is worth all the trouble in the world.

You’re talking about going to a Grand Prix to find him, but you don’t want to. You’re completely lost and don’t know what to do about it. You talk about a good part of the evening, and it’s only once the big clock in the living room announces midnight that your parents decide to go to bed. You just sit out in the open, taking advantage of the summer breeze to think better. It’s already mid-July. You can’t believe that time is moving so fast. You return to your room a few minutes later with a restless but relaxed mind.

The next day, you are at the village market, and you market the various vegetables and fruit you see at the best prices. Delilah smells each product and displays a satisfied head every time the smell is sweet. The traders laugh at her adorable face and even offer her fruit for free. Delilah walks through the different stands making her little game to get as many items as possible. You sneer tenderly with your mother when you notice your daughter’s ploy.

Watch her from the corner of your eye. Her little hat with strawberries strapped to her head helps you spot her in the crowd. She is at the honey stand. You thank the seller, who hands you your bag filled with good vegetables and turns around to find your daughter. You see her talking to a stranger. You frown as you approach. If there’s one thing you don’t want her to do, it’s talk to strangers.

“Delilah, come on. Let’s go. We’re done shopping for today.” She turns to you, and the stranger raises his head. Your heart misses a beat. It’s not possible. What’s he doing there. The eyes of the unknown also open.

Let me know if you would like a part three in the comments!

TAG LIST (All Stories) : darkmalice00 karmabyfernando

TAG LIST (This story): karmabyfernando omgsuperstarg soosheee mypage-myfandoms trouble-sistar aileeincomplexity sweetwerewolfqueen darkmalice00 gaslysainz kimikimki fandomsfeminismandme aundercover

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz fluff #f1 x reader #f1 imagine

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604to647 · 1 year ago

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Safest with You - Ch. 4 (The First Date)

2.8K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: Din takes you out on a first date.

Warnings: First date fluff, lots of kissing and possibly too much description of 🫣, a little pet name usage (pretty bird, sweet girl, sweetheart), brief mention of parental illness and passing.

A/N: So... you may have noticed I increased the chapter count - I'm sorry! I really wanted to stretch out the longing these two have for each other and build up their neediness; so I split "The Courtship" into two parts and am using it to make the second part Din's POV (it's time for us to see what's going on in that pretty head of his!) But then the first part turned out to be 5K...and that's just two long so I split it into two as well. I'll post Ch. 5 shortly (it's written, just needs to be edited) - the point is to make them wait, not us 😂 Thank you as always for reading!

Series Masterlist

You emerge from the subway station to see Din waiting for you, ready to walk together to the taco place he picked. The way his face lights up when he sees you makes you glad you took the extra time in choosing what to wear tonight.

Din looks devastatingly handsome; freshly showered after what was probably a long afternoon of sparring, his hair now fluffy again and looking so touchable, you have trouble keeping your hands to yourself. His dress shirt is worn casually, untucked and with the top buttons unbuttoned, which somehow makes him look impossibly big; and when he offers you his hand, you happily take it, heart thumping at the way he slots his thick fingers through your much smaller ones. He smiles down at you, hoping to convey how excited he is to finally be taking you out, telling you how beautiful you look and asking after the rest of your day.

The two of you chat effortlessly as you walk to the restaurant, and once you’re seated, the conversation switches to the business of the food. You jokingly let Din know that food is very important to you and is weighted very heavily when determining the success of this date. Din looks at you with a serious expression, “You don’t have to pretend you’re joking.” Without skipping a beat, you match his solemn expression and deadpan, “Good.” Both of you crack at the same time, and you have to grab onto his muscular arm you’re both laughing so hard. You swear you feel an actual jolt of electricity in your fingers.

After you’ve ordered, you ask Din a question that’s been on your mind ever since you found out where he worked: What sort of gym business brought him downtown on the day you met? Din looks thoughtful for a moment, as if trying to decide how to start his answer, and when he speaks, you can tell that he’s about to share something heavier than the usual first date chatter. You learn that about 5 years ago, Din’s father fell ill, and he decided to leave his personal security job to take care of his dad and help run the gym. When his father passed, Din chose to stay and carry on his father’s legacy, taking over ownership and operation of the gym, which had been his pride and joy. When Din pauses, you add gently, “After you, of course.” Din smiles, somewhat sadly. Something strikes you, “That wall you showed me, with all the news articles about you – your dad put that up?”

That seems to brighten Din a bit, and nodding, he continues, “The gym was a big part of my childhood and younger years, where I trained and fought. Dad was a really involved parent, and he had a big hand in my training. I have a lot of great memories of him and I together in the gym. But it was more than just the boxing for him; he also opened the gym up to all my friends and gave us a place to go to stay out of trouble, giving everyone a safe place to go after school if they didn’t have one. He ended up opening it up to all the community kids; if you were under 17 you could come in any time and train, use the equipment, or just hang out, do homework, whatever. No membership fees, no questions asked. He was a really good guy, my dad.”

Din looks wistful and reminiscent.

“So stuff like that is a big part of why I decided to stay instead of going back to my old job. Dad loved how the gym was important to the community and really believed in the neighbourhood taking care of each other, and I wanted to keep it and all the good it does going in his memory. This way it’s still open to the neighbourhood kids to come and hang out and train, or just have somewhere to go and be safe; I don’t know if that would still be the case if someone else took over the gym and just cared about turning out winning fighters or something.”

“Awww, Din, you’re a good guy too. Your dad would be so proud.”

You’re so grateful to Din for sharing something so personal and being openly vulnerable, you forget your original question, but Din hasn’t, “So I retired from my old job, but the people I used to work with, we were… we are still really close. Like family. I grew up with most of those guys; most of them are the same friends that used to hang out at the gym when we were kids. They’ve always been there for me and Dad, even more after he got sick. Great guys. Stepped up when I needed to take time away from work to help Dad and understood when I told them I was leaving. Every one of them has had my back a million times over. So once in a while, they’ll ask me to come back in and help with something.”

You finally understand, “And the day we met, you were downtown on an assignment from your old work buddies.” Din nods. You think you’re coming to appreciate some things essential to Din’s character; in addition to being strong and protective, he’s also deeply loyal and compassionate. “That’s nice of you. It’s personal security work, you said? Your friends probably feel safer with you around. I know I would.”

Din grins, “Good. I’m glad you don’t find me scary.”

“Not in the least,” you give Din a fond look and he is gratified; Din is used to people being wary of him because of his appearance and size or even his reputation as a fighter among certain crowds, and he doesn’t think he could stand it if you ever felt in any way unsafe around him.

Carrying on the conversation, you share with Din that you’ve remained close to some childhood friends as well; some of your closest friends are actually from home. You had all moved to the city at different times, but eventually reconnected and are now inseparable. You’re grateful for your friends the same way Din seems to be for his.

“Are any of these friends the ones who are reading the same book as you? Do they know you’re seeing me tonight?” Din is curious if he’s been worth mentioning to your friends, now that he understands how much they mean to you.

You let Din know that yes, in fact, some of those friends are one and the same and that everyone in the group chat knows about your date.

“What do think you’re going to tell the group chat about tonight?”

“Well, so far, it’s a really good first date. But night’s still early… and the food hasn’t come yet,” you grin, “They’ll get the full debrief tomorrow. We have a standing brunch date every week.”

Din puts on a mock worried expression, “Got my work cut out for me, then.”

“Something tells me you’ll do just fine,” you place your hand on Din’s; he turns your hand over in his and brings it up to his lips, giving it a gentle kiss while looking at you with adoration in his eyes.

From there, the conversation continues to flow easily, with no lulls or awkward silences.

Over delicious food, Din learns that you’re a workaholic and always have been, but you love your job and your team, despite the somewhat long hours. He asks you to tell him a little bit about your work and he finds that you’re whip smart, with an analytical mind; poking a bit of fun at yourself, you confess that you’re an overthinker and that work is probably a way to use this power for good instead of evil. Long hours of working that brain overtime leaves you with not much free time, and your preference is to spend what little of it you have in a lowkey manner, with close friends and your dog. You shyly admit you might be too obsessed with your dog, Al (short for Alfredo, like the pasta sauce), and when Din asks to see and then proceeds to enthusiastically coo at the 812 pictures of Al you show him on your phone, you think you might actually be making heart eyes at this teddy bear of a man.

The first time you’re both quiet is when Din walks you to the front of your building; after an evening of non-stop talking and laughing, this intimate moment of silence feels well earned and full of promise. The evening has been more than lovely; you’ve learned so much about this handsome, kind man that you’ve fantasized about for the last week, and he has somehow surpassed anything you could have imagined. Now you’re aching for him to touch you in ways beyond the gentle and respectful way he has throughout the date; you’re ready to feel the strength you felt radiating off of him in the coffeeshop pressed against your body. Looking up at Din as you step in his space, you tip your face up to his while your hands find their place on his waist. Following your cue, Din leans down and gently cradles your face with his hands, thumbs on either side of your cheeks, fingers softly stroking your neck and hair for a moment before bringing his lips to yours.

As Din’s mouth fits softly on yours, you close your eyes and return his kiss like it’s all you’ve been wanting to do for the last few hours, which if you’re being honest, it has been. You map Din’s lips with your own, inhaling his breath and exhaling your own breaths of quiet contentment. Din meets each brush of your lips with an equal tenderness, pressing into them with his own over and over. Then, as if through some silent agreement, a sense of urgency overtakes the both of you and you each reach for the other at the same time to deepen the kiss. Your hands work their way up Din’s chest until they lace around the back of his neck and you use them to pull yourself up into him; Din’s arm’s have enveloped you and he presses his hands on the small of your back, firmly urging you even closer. On instinct, your mouth opens eagerly, and Din slips his tongue in, pushing against yours with hunger and purpose; you’re delicious and he can’t get enough of you. Greedily craving even more, you wrap your arms around his neck, needing to get impossibly close to Din; nothing else exists in this moment for you except Din and the way his mouth moves against yours. His facial hair is scratching your chin and the friction is starting to feel hot, but not unpleasant; you let out a low hum of pleasure that vibrates through to Din. He groans and gently bites down on your lower lip, pulling lightly as you finally break apart. When you open your eyes, you find that you’re both panting slightly, chests heaving in tandem as you try to catch your respective breaths.

“Holy shit, pretty bird. That was some first kiss.”

“Din…”, you whisper, your voice low, your desperate eyes meeting his.

You don’t even get to finish your thought before Din is on you again, kissing you with the same intensity and passion as the way the first kiss ended, but now with less urgency. He wants to savour you, taste you, and show you through his kisses how much you’re affecting him. During this second kiss, he doesn’t press you against him but instead lets his hands roam; his one hand trails up your neck and finds a home on the back of your head, threading through your hair and you lean into his hold. His other hand strokes your back, fingers kneading as it travels from your shoulder blades and down to your lower back, almost dipping to your ass, but only getting close enough to graze the top with his fingers. You might whine a little from the anticipation - oh how you want him to grab your ass. You know he’s being respectful, but this kiss and the one before it has you burning with desire for this man; you can feel a wetness starting to pool between your legs, and you want, need Din to just handle you. Your tongues chases his, trying to convey your neediness. More, more, more.

“Din…”, you try again, murmuring into his mouth when his nose gently bumps yours and his mouth gives yours a moment of reprieve.

“Mmmmhmm…?” Din presses his lips lightly on yours again, unable to be apart from them.

“Do you want to come upstairs?”

Din’s mouth stills against yours before he pulls his face away slightly, “Oh. Uhhhhh…I…no.”

In an instant, you feel a tightness in your chest from misreading the situation, and shrink away from Din, out of the warmth of his arms, “Oh. Okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

Fuck. Din blames his light headedness from kissing you for his harsh and misleading response; when he sees you trying hard to keep your face neutral, he’s desperate to correct and explain himself, “No, no, no, pretty girl. I do, I do want to come up. But, I also…don’t. I-”

Din is running his hands through his hair nervously, looking flustered in a way that astonishes you: this big force of a man, looking unsure and tripping over his own words. It’s endearing, and your tenderness towards him wins out and you put your hand up to his cheek; Din immediately leans into your touch.

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closed, worried that he’s ruined things, but when he opens his eyes, he sees you looking at him with softness. When you see Din’s finally face relax, you chuckle, “That’s confusing.”

Din takes a deep breath, “I know. Pretty bird, I would love to go upstairs with you. I really do. And without sounding too presumptuous, I would love to do all the upstairs things with you. To you. I want to. I want you…but…”

You wait with bated breath for him to continue.

“…but I also…I want to… court you.”

Whatever you were bracing yourself for, it wasn’t this, “Court me?” You’re not sure you heard him right.

Now Din is running his hands through his hair again, looking sheepish and self-conscious, “Yeah… is that dumb? I…want to do things the proper way with you. Take you out, get to know you, treat you special…court you? I know if we go upstairs, I won’t be able to keep my hands off of you, and things will go fast and… some of the nice things I want to do for you will get forgotten, maybe left behind…and… I want us to take our time. Is that dumb? Sorry.”

Din’s eyes can’t quite meet yours, so you press a soft kiss to his lips to which he gives you a small smile. “It’s not dumb at all, Din. It’s super sweet. Surprising, but sweet.”

“Why surprising? Did you think me a hussy?” Din pretends to look scandalized.

You giggle, “I mean, it’s pretty clear that I’m the one being a hussy here, old man.”

“Old ma-..?” Din doubles down on looking offended.

You kiss him again before he can retort, “Okay. Let’s take things slow.”

Din kisses you slow and calm, all the urgency from earlier gone, as he settles into the relief of knowing he hasn’t inadvertently pushed you away. Closing your eyes, you melt into Din’s embrace, letting him know with your actions that you’re not going anywhere.

“Do you want to meet the dog and go for a walk with us?” you mumble into Din’s shoulder, somewhat shy about inviting him to do something so familiar and domestic.

“Nothing I want more, pretty bird.”

“Nothing?” you arch your eyebrow, teasingly. Then practically skip into the building, giggling, as you hear Din chuckling behind you.

Al takes to walking with Din immediately. The nighttime walk is lazy and comfortable; hardly any words are exchanged, but Din’s arm around you, and the soft kisses he presses into your hair throughout, tells you everything you need to know about how Din feels the date went.

Before letting you go for the final time tonight, Din kisses you deep and slow again; this time letting his hands wander down to where you had needed him earlier, palming your ass with both his hands, groping you lightly and making you yearn for more of him yet again. Turning you towards your building door, he gives one side a light slap before bidding you goodnight with a wink, leaving you dazed and lightheaded as you head in with the dog.

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