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angellesword · 4 years ago

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YOUR EYES TELL | JJK (08)

Summary: You live in a world where people see in black and white. The solution to finally see the colors? It's simple. You need to meet your soulmate and look at him in the eyes, but what if the person bound to you is already contented with the monochromatic world? What if...Jeongguk, your soulmate, is already in love with someone else?

Alternatively:

"A future without you is a world without color."

Genre: soulmate au, e2l, slow burn, angst, fluff, roommate au

Pairing: Artist!Jungkook x Lawyer!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Series: CHAPTER 7 | CHAPTER 9

warnings: unrealistic court happenings i am not a lawyer ok mention of physical abuse, drinking problems, child trauma, mental illness, and infidelity. I want to build a whole new world in this fic that’s why i also didn’t research about divorce trials I’m sorry. OC is kind of annoying/disappointing in this chapter (?) or not (?) Young Choi Soobin of TXT is the kid in this chapter’s moodboard

Jeongguk was the ex-boyfriend Red was talking about.

You figured this out when you were at Seokjin's party. Frankly, the way your soulmate was looking at Red was already a giveaway, but then you had to confirm it yourself.

The only way to do that was to either confront Jeongguk or your assistant.

You chose neither and it was because you were afraid to hear what they would or wouldn't say. This being said, you resorted to your last option.

"Come on..." It was hard to sit on the floor when you're wearing a damn long dress, but this didn't stop you from rummaging through Red's personal things.

It's the middle of the night. You left Jeongguk at your apartment right after he reached his high.

You just wanted to teach him a lesson for being a brat. He was always so rude to you and you honestly thought that he was just in denial—that soon enough, he would realize that you two were really destined to be together.

Apparently, that wasn't going to happen.

You went to your office at one in the morning just to find something that would verify your speculation. You got what you wanted. The photograph of Jeongguk kissing your assistant confirmed it.

Your tears fell.

You didn't know why you felt betrayed. It wasn't like they wanted this. They hadn't done anything wrong. Fate was just cruel. Why didn't you meet Jeongguk first? You couldn't blame him for falling in love with Red—she was sweet, beautiful, and smart. Anyone would definitely like her, so you had no choice but to swallow the lump in your throat and accept this.

You just had to pretend like everything was alright.

It wasn't.

The divorce trial was near and there were still so many things you had to fix. Work was seriously draining the hell out of you and it wasn't like Jeongguk was helping. He was actually adding up to the stress you were feeling.

Jeongguk was giving you the silent treatment and no—it wasn't the type of silence you were used to. Before Seokjin's party, your soulmate was quiet, but not really. He would occasionally huff to let you know that he was annoyed at you. He would also stamp his feet and slam the door just to spite you.

You didn't mind. You knew he was just being a brat; however, things were different now.

After the night of Seokjin's party, Jeongguk changed. He was eerily silent, always avoiding eye contact with you.

You tried talking to him. Regrettably, you were only greeted by stillness.

"You want pizza, Gukkie?"

Nothing.

"Have you watched the latest episode of Start-up?"

Still nothing.

"Did you have a good sleep?"

Nope. Nothing. Nada.

"Wanna make out on the couch?"

Jeongguk's head jolted to your direction. His eyes were wide, cheeks turning crimson because of your bold statement.

"Hey!" You giggled, clearly happy with his reaction. "You finally looked at me!"

Jeongguk shook his head and then he went straight to his room.

You were unbelievable.

You pouted your lips, giving up. You had a feeling that he would come around.

He did. Days later, Jeongguk surprised you when he stood right in front of the door of your apartment. He was blocking your way out.

"Gukkie, I'm going to be late." You sighed. He reminded you of Miri, your cat that's always trying to stop you from leaving.

"You can't leave." His jaw clenched.

You let out a breath once again.

"Don't do this please. Mr. Kim needs me,"

The trial was happening today. You needed to run down a few things with your client before you go to the court room.

"You just don't get it, do you?" Jeongguk folded his arms over his chest.

You stared at him.

"I don't get what?" It was hard to keep your composure when the thing you had been trying to avoid for so long was being rubbed in your face. You knew exactly what Jeongguk was implying.

"—that you want me to drop this case because you want Red all to yourself?"

Jeongguk froze. What was the point of staying silent when you always knew what was running inside his head?

You just always knew.

"You don't have to pretend that you care about Soobin's well-being. I have enough people doing just that," you slightly pushed Jeongguk to the side so that you could pass through the door.

Ah, people.

They're all the same, always trying to conceal their self-interest by pretending that they care for others.

You liked Jeongguk—actually; you were convinced you loved him. He was your soulmate after all, but sometimes love wasn't enough to just give into what he wanted.

This wasn't about your relationship. This was about Soobin's welfare. He's just a child. You were a lawyer who swore an oath to protect the oppressed and incapable. You were their voice.

It sounded cheesy, but this was the type of person you aspired to be. The world was already dark, it wouldn't hurt to be someone's light.

Jeongguk didn't understand your reasons. It was evident when he showed up in court to watch you defend Kim Seokjin.

At first, you thought your eyes were failing you. Was he really here? Was he really the man at the back of the room wearing that big hoodie?

It was him. The familiar scowl on his face said so. Jeongguk was the only person who looked at you like you had offended his whole family.

"All rise!"

You turned to your client upon hearing the bailiff's demand.

"It's going to be alright," assured by you.

Seokjin smiled. He was looking at Red instead of you. He needed the comfort of his soulmate.

Red grinned back. She wasn't worried. She trusted you. She was certain you would succeed. Soobin wasn't going to be taken away from his father.

The first few minutes of the trial went smooth. You had your story straight and with the way the judge was nodding; you instantly knew she was in favor of your side.

Unfortunately, things started to go ugly during the cross-examination of witnesses.

Jung Hoseok was the first one to take the stand. He was the expert witness.

"You are the marriage counselor of Mr. and Mrs. Kim for months now, right?"

"Yes." Hoseok answered the opposing counsel. It was weird seeing him this serious. Your friend was always grinning, but you told him to try to keep a neutral face. This way, the judge and the jury wouldn't know if he was caught off guard by the question of the other side's attorney.

"Mr. Jung, is it true that marriage counselors rarely suggest divorce to their clients?"

"Depends—" Hoseok bit his tongue. You told him to simply answer yes or no. Be responsive to the question and never explain. "I mean, yes."

"And yet here we are..." Ms. Choi, the opposing attorney, shrugged her shoulders.

"Objection!" You stood up. "Relevance?"

You didn't understand why Ms. Choi asked that question to Hoseok when she's just shrugging it off now.

"Sustained." The judge felt the same way.

Ms. Choi raised her hand as if surrendering.

"My bad. I'm just curious, you know? If Mr. Jung is indeed an effective counselor, then why did he suggest that the Kim couple push through the divorce?"

Ms. Choi was furrowing her brow at Hoseok.

"Isn't that true, Counselor Jung? You told Mrs. Kim that it's better to end her marriage with Mr. Kim?"

"Yes." The expert witness answered truthfully.

The opposing side's attorney smiled mockingly.

"It's because you feared for Mrs. Kim's safety, right?"

"What?" Jung Hoseok was lost.

"Come on, Mr. Jung you know exactly what I am talking about! You found out that Mr. Kim is an alcoholic and you are scared that he might harm Mrs. Kim and Soobin, right?" Ms. Choi pointed at the five year old kid who was busy coloring books in the far corner of the room. He was with Seokjin's mother.

"Objection, Your Honor! Compound question!" You glared at Ms. Choi.

"Sustained." The judge clenched her jaw. "Ms. Choi, separate your questions. You are misleading the jury..."

Ms. Choi was flustered, yet she still held her head high. She knew she had the upper hand here.

"Is Mr. Kim alcoholic, Mr. Jung?" She tried again.

Hoseok cleared his throat.

"He had a history of abusing alcohol years ago."

"And you know this because you're also a licensed alcohol and drug counselor, correct?"

"Yes..."

"And Mr. Kim Seokjin also told you about his issue with regard to alcohol abuse?"

"Yes." Hoseok swallowed hard.

There were papers that could attest to Hoseok's claim. This was a win for Mrs. Kim. You could see her growing sarcastic smile that was directed at Red.

You inhaled deeply.

"Mr. Jung, can you please tell us the rate of patients going through alcohol relapse?"

"Uh, it's sixty to ninety percent after the first year of treatment," answered by Hoseok.

"I see. How long has it been since Mr. Kim sobered up?"

"As far as I know, it has been three years."

"Huh." Ms. Choi crossed her arms. "So is there a possibility that Mr. Kim would experience an alcohol relapse?"

"Yes."

"What's the statistical probability, Mr. Jung?"

"About fifty percent high." Hoseok looked dejected. He wanted to help Seokjin win the case, but he couldn't lie.

"I see." Ms. Choi was smiling as if she had already won the case.

"Can you tell us now the effects of experiencing an alcohol relapse? Or a slip?"

Hoseok's palms were sweating. Slip was one episode of drinking alcohol after trying to stay sober. Relapse, on the other hand, was the return to unhealthy behavior. Slip wasn't always followed by a relapse.

Hoseok also explained that there were different stages of relapse. Emotional relapse could cause suppression of emotions, becoming more isolated, trying to blame other people, and aggression, especially when they were confronted. There's also mental and physical relapse which included glamorizing alcohol and compulsive desires to drink.

"No further questions, Your Honor." The corner of Ms. Choi's mouth turned up upon realizing that the jury was in favor of their side now.

You had to step up your game.

The next witness was Son Chae-young. She was Soobin's babysitter. Chae-young had been living with the Kims ever since Soobin was born. She's a witness testifying against Seokjin.

Chae-young cleared her throat when your eyes landed on her. She already felt uncomfortable because of the way you were looking at her.

The way you stand up—shoulder down, neck long—was intimidating.

"You have a really nice necklace, Ms. Son."

Chae-young flinched upon hearing your compliment. She was confused. Mrs. Kim and Attorney Choi told her that you were scary, this was evident by the way you present yourself, but then...the way your eyes light up made her feel at ease. Your voice was soft too.

"Ah...thanks," regardless of your sweet persona, Chae-young still couldn't help but feel embarrassed. Why were you looking at her as if she was important? As if you were here to protect and not cross-examine her?

"Is it from Cartier?"

"Yes!" The babysitter beamed at you as she touched her pretty jewelry.

You smiled warmly at her.

"Did you buy it yourself?"

"Objection! Relevance?" The opposing lawyer clenched her fist. She was shaking, causing you to smile bigger. Guess she knew what was coming to her, huh?

"I'm getting there, Your Honor," said by you. Your expression screamed confidence that the judge was compelled to believe you.

"Overruled."

You continued.

"So...Ms. Son, did you buy that necklace? Or is it a gift?"

"Uh..." Chae-young's lips trembled. She was looking at Mrs. Kim, as if she was asking for her boss' help. "I-I bought it for myself..."

"I see." You nodded. Humoring her. "Do you have any other job aside from babysitting Kim Soobin?"

The nanny shook her head.

"N-No. I'm a full-time nanny of Mrs. Kim's son." Chae-young's lips were still shaking; her eyes were quivering as well.

"Hm, interesting..." You went closer to the witness. "That means you're earning what? Two hundred fifty dollars a month?"

"Objection, Your Honor! I still can't see the relevance of this!" Ms. Choi was losing her mind.

You turned to glare at her.

"Can’t you really see the relevance of this or are you just scared?"

You heard the judge's hit the gavel; she was calling your attention.

"Get to the point right now." The judge demanded at you. It was this or your statement was going to be sustained.

"I am merely establishing my point, Your Honor." Your voice was rough. "The necklace Ms. Son is wearing is worth four thousand three hundred dollars. I know because I have the same necklace and it took me, a lawyer, months!" You paused for a while just to emphasize the word months, "to buy it."

You turned to Chae-young when the judge remained silent.

"So tell me, Ms. Son, how can a full-time nanny like you who's earning minimum wage buy that kind of luxurious jewelry? Huh?" You were standing too close to the witness so Attorney Choi used this as an opportunity to object.

"Your Honor, she is badgering the witness!"

"Overruled." But the judge wasn't having any of it. "Answer the question, Ms. Son."

"I'm sorry!" The nanny's face twisted in fear. "Mrs. Kim bought it for me—"

"It's a gift!" Mrs. Kim blurted out, unable to contain her anger anymore. God. She hated you. "I bought it for her last month! It's my birthday gift for her!"

You smirked. Attorney Choi was panicking. She was caressing Mrs. Kim's hand, telling her to calm down.

Sadly, Mrs. Kim could not be stopped.

"Why am I explaining to you when you have no right to question my intention! It's my money so I get to decide what to do with it!"

She was yelling at you and it almost made you laugh. Why was she so defensive?

"May I remind you that you are a married woman, Mrs. Kim? You have to consider your husband's decision when it comes to spending that amount of money." You said this while glancing at the jury.

Base on their expressions, you knew that they agreed with you. This was a win on your side. One of the valid reasons of Seokjin for wanting a divorce was this. Mrs. Kim didn't know how to manage their assets.

You weren't done, though. You had to discredit the witness. You had to win the jury's side in all aspects.

"And you said you bought it last month for Ms. Son's birthday?" You shook your head, focusing your eyes at the nanny.

"Tell us, Ms. Son, when is your birthday?"

Mrs. Kim's face became pale upon hearing your question.

"January seventeen...”

You turned your attention back to Mrs. Kim again.

"Your birthday present is many months late, Mrs. Kim. Either that or you're just lying to hide the fact that you gave Ms. Son the necklace in exchange of testifying against your husband—"

"Objection—"Attorney Choi tried to stop you, but you cut her off too.

"Isn't that right, Ms. Son? You are bribed by your boss to say that you always see Mr. Kim Seokjin drinking alcohol—"

"Your Honor—" The opposing attorney was losing control, her objections were drowning because of how loud your voice was.

"Mrs. Kim wants you to lie! To say that her husband isn't a good father! That he isn't a good influence to Soobin!"

"Yes!"

You stopped trying to pressure Chae-young because it already worked. She admitted the truth.

"Mrs. Kim bribed me!" The babysitter sobbed, looking at you like you were the Lord and she was a sinner.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I-I can't say no, please...please...I need this job!"

"You bitch!" Mrs. Kim abruptly stood up. She wanted to attack you; fortunately the security officers were able to stop her.

The jury was surprised to see Mrs. Kim's violent reaction. You, on the other hand, didn't even flinch.

You were used to this kind of scene. Besides, you couldn't get sidetracked. You still needed to prove your point.

And so you faced the jury.

"Is this the kind of person that you want to raise a sweet, innocent five year-old kid?"

One of the members of the jury clutched her chest. She was affected by what you had said. Truthfully, they were almost decided to grant the sole custody to Mrs. Kim; however, upon seeing the latter's behavior, the jury was having second thoughts now.

"Just look at her!" You pointed at Mrs. Kim who was still seething with rage.

"She constrained an adult! Imagine the bad things she could force Soobin to do! Mrs. Kim is a manipulator!" You raised your voice dramatically.

"My actions are nothing compared to what that asshole is doing!" Mrs. Kim screamed as she angrily pointed at her husband.

She was crying.

Kim Seokjin was quiet. He was shocked by your responses. He didn't expect you to be this bold. You were different from the lawyer he thought he knew.

You didn't have any limit. You didn't know when to stop just to prove a point.

"He's teaching my son that it's okay to be unfaithful to your wife! Jury, please!" Mrs. Kim was desperate. "Don't let him come near my son! He's a drunken bastard!"

The judge was hitting the gavel again. There were too much drama and unnecessary comments from Mrs. Kim.

You shook your head. You couldn't stop now. The jury was undecided. They changed their minds from time to time. You could see sympathy in their eyes as they looked at the wife.

"Mr. Kim Seokjin is sober! You should be ashamed of yourself, Mrs. Kim! You keep blaming your husband when you're the reason why he turned alcoholic in the first place—"

"Objection, Your Honor!" Attorney Choi glared at you. "The attorney is assuming facts!"

You disagreed before the judge could say sustained.

"Am I?" You smirked at the judge before turning to your table to get your evidence.

Seokjin looked at you nervously.

"Please tell me you're not doing what I think you're doing," groaned by your client.

You were blinded by your role as a lawyer, so you ignored Seokjin's plea.

"Don't do this..."

Seokjin was already too late.

"I have here the evidence that will prove that Mrs. Kim is the reason why her husband turned alcoholic."

You brought out the printed photos of Seokjin's beaten up face. Bruises, cuts, and other physical injuries were seen.

The jury gasped. Attorney Choi was groaning as she told the judge that these photos were not entered into evidence.

You were playing dirty, but so were they. Ms. Choi told you that they wouldn't bring Mr. Kim's sobriety issue in this court. She lied.

"These pictures are given to me by Mrs. Kim Sunghee, Seokjin's mother." You glanced at your client's mother.

"She knows that her son's wife was assaulting him. Seokjin didn't want to feel his wife's punches so he resorted to drinking the pain away. Mr. Kim just wants to be numb."

"N-No..." Your client's tears streamed down his cheeks. He was calling your name, begging you to stop.

It felt like everyone was begging you to stop; even Sunghee was shaking her head.

It was wrong. This was a mistake. Seokjin's mother realized this when Soobin began to cry. He was silently crying at first, but when the little boy saw the photos in your hand, he started hyperventilating.

"Appa!" Soobin's eyes dilated. He could barely breathe.

Mrs. Kim stood up to attend to her son.

"Soobin!" Mrs. Kim was wailing.

Things were becoming messy.

You didn't understand what was happening, so you just stood there.

"Appa! A-Appa is hurting!" Soobin was losing it; his eyes were rolling in the back of his head.

"Call 911!" Red shouted.

The noise was deafening.

You still didn't get what was happening.

Seokjin went near you.

"I told you not to do it!" He shouted, snatching the photos away from your shaky hands.

"This isn't about me or my wife!" Seokjin continued to scream at you.

You were stunned.

Your client was blaming you.

This is your fault! Seokjin said.

You were wrong. You didn't have to bring out these photos because apparently, Soobin knew.

He witnessed how his mom used to beat up his father.

The poor kid was traumatized.

He had to get some help.

His parents thought he had recovered.

It had been years.

The thing about trauma was, it never went away. It was there—silently sleeping and waiting for that one thing that would trigger it.

You triggered Soobin.

"I-I didn't know..." Your voice was low as you stated your excuse.

No one wanted to hear your lame excuse, not even Jeongguk.

You looked at your soulmate once.

You looked at him desperately.

You looked at him hoping that he would understand—like he would comfort you.

He would never.

Jeongguk had this look in his eyes, the kind of feeling that expressed disappointment.

Jeongguk was disappointed in you.

It was clear because right now, he was shaking his head as if you had done the most horrifying thing in the world.

He shook his head before leaving you all alone.

No one wanted to be with you.

You were a disgrace.

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #ficswithluv #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook enemies to lovers #jungkook roommate au #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkoon x reader #jungkook x oc #jungkook sugar baby au #bts jungkook #bts jeon jeongguk #jungkook soulmate au #jungkook friends to lovers #jungkook e2l

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sfb123 · 4 years ago

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Sapere Aude - Part 9

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Word Count: 2,655

A/N: Before I dive in, a little bit of unpleasant business to address. As you may know, there is another writer that is also working on a Via Imperii themed fic. We had been working together to make sure our stories didn’t overlap to the point of plagiarism, sharing ideas and pre-reading each others work. That partnership was abruptly, and unbeknownst to me, put to a halt this week (3/28/21). She has not read this chapter, and I have not read any of hers past her chapter 9 (which I don’t think I ever saw the final version of, so let’s safely say chapter 8). I just wanted to put that out there in the universe, I don’t want any previous approvals or conversations to be implied or carried over into work I have not, and will not, see. No ill will, it is what it is, I just want to make sure that nobody is misrepresenting anyone’s involvement in anything.

HUGE shout out to my hype squad, @jessiembruno & @txemrn. It’s no secret that I haven’t been feeling to great about myself lately, and they’ve been so great about talking me through it and encouraging me to keep going.

As always, shout out to @twinkleallnight for my amazing, and updated, moodboard!

Tags: I think my tags actually got figured out, so tags are below, but not in the comments as I usually do. If you don’t get the tag, let me know (which is a weird thing to say, because you might not even be seeing this).

Riley stood at the stove, scrambling eggs, when she suddenly felt Liam’s arms wrap around her as he kissed her neck. “Good morning, love. You’re up early.” He said in between kisses.

“Hey you.” She shut off the burner and turned in his arms, reaching up to cup his cheek. “How are you feeling?” She looked at him with worry in her eyes.

“I’m...past the worst of it, thanks to you.” He kissed her softly on the lips. “I’m just ready to move forward and come up with a plan to end all of this. Then I can deal with everything else.”

“You don’t have to bottle it all up until this is over, Liam. You can talk to me.”

“I know, you’ve more than proven that to me.” He winked, a slight smirk on his face. “Taking them down is how I need to work through it. It seems as though a majority of the struggles we have faced have been at the hands of the Via Imperii. Getting my revenge and eliminating them will be a cathartic, healing experience. It needs to happen for the country, and for my own piece of mind.”

She nodded and pulled out of his embrace, taking his hand and walking him toward the island. “Good, that’s what we’ll do then. Sit and I’ll get a plate together for you. I need to fill you in on the rest before everyone gets here.”

“Everyone?” He asked as he watched her walk back to the stove and put two plates together.

“I texted Maxwell this morning, he’s going to come back with Drake so that he can work with us on a plan. He’s already had time to process his dad’s shittyness, so you and Drake won’t have to do all the heavy lifting while dealing with your news.” She placed a plate down in front of him and sat down.

Liam looked at her confused, “Why would Drake still be processing my news? You told him the other day, didn’t you?”

Riley took a deep breath, there was so much she didn’t get a chance to tell Liam the night before. She would have to get through it all now. He had to be completely filled in before Drake and Maxwell arrived. “Not your news, Liam. I had some for him too.”

Riley filled Liam in on the rest of the information she had learned that weekend. Treading lightly when he spoke about Eleanor, making sure not to refer to as his mother, she would simply say ‘she’ and Liam understood. Liam sat there, pushing his own pain aside so he could focus on the task at hand, while also being there for Drake. He knew Drake, and he knew that he was likely feeling a similar storm of emotions, but being the selfless kind hearted soul Liam knew he was, he wasn’t dealing with any of that. Instead, Drake was keeping himself busy by taking care of his friends, just like he had his whole life.

After breakfast, Liam rescheduled his and Riley’s meetings and commitments for the day so that they could focus on the task at hand. Eleanor had her lessons, Drake planned on dropping her off in the Great Room when they arrived at the palace, giving them a couple of hours to talk. Liam and Riley finished getting ready for the day, and headed into the living room just in time to hear the knock on the door. Liam answered.

Maxwell was the first to enter, bounding in and raising his arms over his head “The party is here.” He walked up to Riley and gave her their secret handshake before pulling her into a hug.

Drake entered and Liam shut the door behind him. They turned to face each other, and nodded in silent understanding. Liam extended his hand and Drake took it in a handshake that was quickly, and mutually, pulled into a hug. They stayed like that for several moments speaking to each other in hushed tones that only the two of them could hear.

After a few moments, Maxwell spoke up. “Hey, how come you guys never hug me like that?”

“Maxwell!” Riley yelled in a hushed tone as she elbowed him in the side, making a rapid throat cutting gesture when he looked at her, signaling that he should leave it alone.

They finally pulled away, clearing their throats as they separated. Drake walked up to Riley, giving her a hug, as Liam approached Maxwell and shook his hand.

“Let’s sit, there’s a lot to go over.” Liam signaled toward the couch as he approached Riley, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Riley gave Liam a reassuring look. “Should we get Bastien in here as well? He should be a part of this.” She suggested.

“Absolutely. You sit, love. I’ll go get him.” Liam walked her to the couch and kissed the top of her head as she sat, before going back to the front door to retrieve Bastien.

Once everyone was there, Riley looked to Liam for the next move. She wasn’t sure which of them would take the lead on this conversation, not knowing if Liam would be able to get through the parts of the story that he had learned the night before. He took her hand in his and nodded at her as a signal to begin the conversation.

“Ok, so we have a new threat. Well, an old threat, but in a new and soul crushing package.” She paused for a moment and looked around the room. Liam and Drake were fully filled in, Bastien was partially aware of the situation, and Maxwell was completely in the dark. The best thing to do would be to start at the beginning.

With that, Riley explained everything, her conversation with Eirik at Applewood, the meeting in Portavira, and of course everything that had happened during her Valtoria trip. She made sure to grip Liam’s hand a little tighter when she got to the part about Eleanor, when Drake also reached over and placed a comforting hand on his friend’s back. The news of Eleanor and Jackson’s involvement, on top of Eleanor not being quite as dead as everyone thought, obviously, a total shock to those in the room hearing it for the first time. Maxwell’s jaw dropped, his hand quickly moving to cover it as tears welled up in his eyes. For the first time in his life, Maxwell was speechless.

Riley looked over to Bastien, who was standing by Drake’s chair. She was surprised by the emotion etched in his typically stoic face. Then she realized, she had been so worried about everyone else, that she didn’t consider how difficult this news may be for Bastien. Jackson Walker had taken a young, fresh-faced Bastien under his wing when he first joined the King’s guard, and invited him into his family. Bastien had been alone most of his life, so becoming an unofficial Walker gave him a sense of belonging and home that he hadn’t felt since he was a little boy. He had known Jackson was a member of the Via Imperii, he was trying to recruit Bastien prior to his death, but the way Jackson talked about it didn’t line up with what he had learned in the last couple of weeks. Suddenly it all made sense, the information he was getting was based off of the original plan that Jackson had been working on. If he was killed for going against them, it would explain why they stopped pursuing Bastien after his death. He always found something a little suspicious about Jackson’s death, this just confirmed it, and made him want to exact his revenge for the man that had given him everything.

The room was silent as everyone continued to process the information. Maxwell was the first to speak up. “You guys, I don’t even know what to say. I mean my dad was bad news, but this is a whole other level.” He looked at Liam, “I mean, a coma is one thing, but to pretend to actually be dead? And then to find out you have a brother?!”

“Thank you Maxwell. It has been a...trying few hours to say the least.” Liam squeezed Riley’s hand a little tighter to keep himself calm. “But that is why you are here. We need to work together to remove them once and for all.”

“So, what do we do?” Drake chimed in.

“That’s what we need to figure out. How do you take down a group that nobody even knows exists?” Riley looked around the room, hoping one of the men might have a suggestion.

Bastien cleared his throat to get the room’s attention. “Perhaps we start by getting some form of hard evidence against them. Something tangible, and undeniable.”

“Yea, we could release it publicly. If everyone knows they exist, and what they’re up to, they won’t have any power.” Maxwell agreed.

Riley nodded. “Ok, that could work. How do we do that? I mean, I’m a member or whatever, but I don’t think you can just borrow membership records, or like walk in taking pictures.”

‘We could send you in with a hidden camera or recorder of some kind.” Liam suggested. “I don’t want to get Amalas involved, we can’t be certain where her loyalties lie, but Olivia could be of help to us on that front.”

Drake interjected, skepticism in his tone. “Yea, but can we trust her? Her family isn’t really known for their loyalty to the crown.”

Liam stood from his seat. “Historically, you are correct Drake. The Nevrakis family has never been particularly with their standing within the monarchy, but I think that Olivia has more than proven herself. Not only in her loyalty to the crown, but in her loyalty to me personally.”

“Yea Drake, she’s had our backs through everything.” Riley also stood, linking her arm with Liam’s in a show of support. “Besides, in the few conversations I’ve had with these people, they don’t speak too highly of the Nevrakis line, they don’t seem like they would have much interest in bringing her onboard.”

“Alright, let’s get her involved.” Drake ran a hand through his hair, still not fully convinced, but knowing he was outnumbered.

“Great. Liam, you and Drake should work with Olivia to get it set up. I’ll talk to Mara and see when I will be meeting with them next, so that we know our timeline.” Riley turned to Bastien, “Bastien, since Hana is in Shanghai, I guess you’ll be taking her place in this mission.”

“Of course, your majesty. Should we make our way to the boutique so I can assist you in finding something to wear?”

Everyone stared blankly at Bastien, the corners of Riley’s mouth slowly turned upward. “Bastien, did you just make a joke?”

“Yes your majesty, I know you all tend to try to add a little levity to situations such as these.”

“Correction…” Maxwell stood up and positioned himself in front of Bastien, “I add levity. I’m the funny one, not Hana. Know your role.”

“My apologies, Lord Beaumont.” Bastien bowed out of respect, but mostly to hide the grin that started to spread across his face.

As the group continued to chat, there was a knock at the door. Soon after, Eleanor came barrelling into the room. “Mommy, daddy, I’m home!” She ran straight for her parents who knelt down to greet her.

“Hello princess, we missed you so much.” Liam wrapped Eleanor in a hug.

As he held his daughter, Riley noticed Thomas entering the room. She stood, giving Drake, Maxwell, and Batien a concerned look. This would be the first time Liam would be face to face with him, knowing who he was.

Bastien rushed over to him, trying to usher him out of the room before Liam noticed. Just as he reached Thomas, the King stood up and looked directly at Thomas, his eyes going wide at the sight of his brother. He quickly shook his head and put his most stoic expression in place. Everyone exchanged worried glances. Riley turned to Liam and linked her hand with his, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure him that he wasn’t alone.

“Your majesties, Eleanor did wonderfully today. I was very impressed with how much she learned today.” Thomas bowed as he addressed the King and Queen.

Liam gripped Riley’s hand tightly, as if he were falling from a building and she was the ledge preventing him from plummeting to his death. He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage to get any words out. It didn’t matter, even if he could find his voice, he had no idea what he would say.

“Thank you Thomas, that will be all for today.” Riley jumped in to break the silence.

Thomas bowed and exited the room. Bastien gave the group a sad smile before bowing and following him out of the room.

“Hey Eleanor, weren’t you telling me about a new dress you were excited about? Want to do a fashion show for Uncle Max?” Maxwell held his hand out to Eleanor, knowing that he needed to give Liam a moment.

“Fashion show! Fashion show!” Eleanor grabbed Maxwell by the hand and pulled him down the hall. He looked back and nodded at his friends. Riley mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him as he rounded the corner.

“Liam?” Riley turned to face Liam, placing a hand on his cheek. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her flush against him, burying his face in her hair. “I know Liam. It’s ok, we’ll get through this.” She peered over his shoulder, giving Drake a sad look.

Drake approached the pair and patted Liam on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, you handled it better than I would have.”

Liam pulled himself from Riley’s arms, and scrubbed his hand over his face, letting out a deep sigh. “Thank you both. That was...difficult.”

“Should we talk to Bastien about having him reassigned?” Riley looked up at her husband.

Liam shook his head. “No, the timing will make it too obvious, they will know you told me. I won’t put you in danger like that.” His face had a slight look of panic.

Riley was reminded of the conversation they had much earlier that morning, and Liam expressing his fear of losing her. She knew she had to do something to bring him back from that place. She gently placed one hand on his cheek and drew his face down to hers. As their foreheads met, she whispered “I’m right here. Always.” Before placing a gentle kiss on his lips.

“All we can do right now is get to work so that we can put all this behind us. We’ll deal with Thomas, and everyone else, after that.” The sound of Drake’s voice brought Riley and Liam out of the moment.

Liam cleared his throat before turning to address his friend. “Right. Olivia will be here in a couple of days for the council meeting. We will speak with her then.”

Drake nodded. “I’ll go grab Maxwell and we’ll get out of your hair.” He approached Liam and placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll reach out if you need me?”

“I should be asking you that question.” Liam arched an eyebrow in response. “One of us is significantly more forthcoming with our emotions than the other.”

“Touché.” Drake laughed as he clapped Liam on the shoulder.

Maxwell and Drake said their goodbyes, and headed out leaving the royal family to themselves. They had a big fight ahead of them, but in this moment, Riley and Liam just wanted to be a family. Not a King and Queen with the heir, not warriors preparing for battle, a husband and wife spending time with their daughter.

Tags:

Permatag: @anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Sapere Aude: @burnsoslow @busywoman @ofpixelsandscribbles

Liam x Riley: @jared2612

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freddiesaysalright · 4 years ago

Text

Tale As Old as Time - Chapter 1

Rami!Prince Adam x Reader

Summary: A prince cursed. A young woman aching for adventure. The classic tale of seeing beauty within.

Word Count: 4.3k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural, @someone-get-a-medic, @bensrhapsody, @deakyclicks, @crazylittlethingcalledobsession,@minigranger, @crazyweirdocalledfriday, @the-moving-finger-writes, @assembledherethevolunteers, @rose-writes-prose, @queenlover05, @26-7-49, @drowsebaby, @im-an-adult-ish, @xviiarez, @rogerina-owns-me If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Let’s meet our heroine! You! Not much Rami in this chapter, but he’s coming!

Warning(s): None!

Moodboard

Prologue

Chapter 1 here we go!!!

You woke to the chirping of birds outside your window. The sun was just peeking over the hillside and through your curtains. You groaned, stretching your limbs to wake yourself up. You had errands to run today, and you needed to finish early to help your father with his newest invention. You shivered slightly as you pushed your covers back.

You changed into a plain dress for your walk to town. Then you slipped on your boots. You stopped by your father’s bedroom to peek in on him. He was snoring, his shoulders rising and falling with his breath. You smiled to yourself, grabbed a basket, and headed out.

The crisp autumn air felt refreshing against your skin. You began to hum to yourself as you walked. The sleepy little town was also waking up. You smelled the fresh bread from the baker, heard the thud of a knife hitting wood from the butcher, and saw the bright white flowers at the florist. You waved to each of them as you passed.

“Good morning, Y/N,” said the florist.

“Good morning, Elaine,” you replied sweetly.

“How’s your father?” she asked.

“Sleeping soundly,” you replied with a smile.

“On your way to pick up his medicine, I assume?” she guessed.

You nodded. “It’s that time. I’ll be by later to pick up some flowers for my mother’s grave. Is that alright?”

“Of course, darling,” she assured you. “I’ll start an arrangement.”

“You’re the best!”

You waved once more and started toward the apothecary. Your father had a dreadful illness which caused him to cough. At first, you wrote it off as dust from all the things he built. But then he began to cough up blood, and you insisted on taking him into town. The pharmacist gave him some herbal treatments, which was manageable, but it wasn’t a cure. You wished you could take your father to a big city to get a trained doctor to treat him, but you couldn’t afford it.

With a sigh, you entered the apothecary. The pharmacist - Lyle - beamed at you.

“Good morning, Y/N!” he greeted. “I’ve got your father’s medicine ready for you.”

He indicated the small package on the table.

“You’re always prepared, sir, I can’t thank you enough,” you replied.

You dropped some coins on the counter and picked up the parcel, placing it carefully in your basket.

“How is old Paul, anyway?” he asked.

“He’s fine,” you answered. “I know he’s got big plans for today, though I don’t know what.”

“Tell him to be careful,” he warned. “That dust is not good for him. And we don’t want him to take a turn.”

“I’ll let him know,” you said. “Thank you again!”

You left, dreading having to tell your father once again that he needed to stop his work. His work drove him. It broke your heart that it was also killing him.

You went to the bakery and picked up some bread. Then back by the flower shop for the little bouquet for your mother’s grave. Then you headed to your favorite spot in town - the library.

You adored books. As a simple country girl with a bit of time on her hands, you found your adventure in stories. That was the one thing you had always craved - something more than caring for your father and visiting the village. To experience something you had never seen before. The closest you ever came was through a book.

“Good morning, Jean!” you called to the librarian as you came through the door.

“What’ll it be today, Y/N?” he asked kindly.

“Has anything new come in?” you wondered, scanning the front desk for a fresh title.

“Actually, yes,” Jean said, picking up the book off the top. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s about a prince under a curse, and a fight to break it.”

“Say no more,” you replied, taking it from him. “You know how I feel about magic.”

“I do,” he chuckled. “You know, you could experience some of your own if you got out of the village every once in a while.”

You sighed. “You know I can’t leave my father. Besides, I couldn’t afford a trip.”

He shook his head and tutted. “Y/N, you’re such a bright girl. You’ve got so much going for you. It’s a shame that you’re stuck here.”

“Maybe, but I love my father,” you said firmly. “He’s given me his whole life.”

“He doesn’t want you to return the favor,” Jean insisted.

“There’s still the cost,” you said. “We spend enough for Papa to go to contests. That’s all we can really do. Really, Jean, I’m happy with how things are. At least for now.”

“Because you have my books?” he teased.

You grinned. “Precisely.”

“That’s due back in a week,” he said.

“I’ll have it back before then!”

You waved and headed back onto the street. Immediately, you began poring over the book. You were so invested that you crashed into someone before you finished the first page. The collision knocked you flat on your bum.

“I’m so sorr-!” you began to say, but then you looked up and saw who it was.

Victor. You bit back a groan.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he said with a cocky grin, helping you to your feet.

“Good morning, Victor,” you replied.

He picked up your book and handed it to you. “What are you doing with this?”

“I’m reading it,” you said. “I’m afraid I can’t stay, I’ve got a lot to do today.”

You pushed past him and kept walking. To your dismay, he followed.

“Y/N, I’ve been doing some thinking,” he began.

“Oh, how rare for you,” you said.

You didn’t mean to be snarky, but Victor was so conceited and arrogant. He was handsome and had money, but because of that, he was spoiled. For some reason, you had caught his attention. But he hardly knew you. He didn’t catch your jab.

“Don’t you think it’s time we got married?” he said.

You scoffed. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, you’re the most beautiful woman in town, I’m the handsomest man, why shouldn’t we get married?” he said with a shrug.

“Do you really think looks are all that’s required for a successful marriage?”

“What else is there?”

You stopped walking and looked at him in disbelief. You searched his face for any hint that he was joking, but found none. He genuinely believed appearance was that vital.

“Victor, I’m flattered, but no,” you said. “I have no interest in getting married just now. Not when I have my father to care for.”

“That may be precisely the reason to get married,” he argued. “I’ve been thinking of buying the old palace, but if my dear father-in-law needed care, well - I might consider something smaller to get him what he needs.”

You froze. That offer was tempting. But Victor was just so...all brawn and no brain. How could you spend your life with him?

“Victor, I can’t marry you,” you said simply. “I don’t love you.”

“Honestly, Y/N, whether or not you love me is of little consequence,” he said. “You’ll learn to love me. You don’t have to make a decision just yet. But do promise me you’ll think about it.”

You sighed and looked away. “Sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Wonderful!” he cried. “I’ll come by later to get your answer. Have a good day, Y/N!”

With that, he was off. You saw him join a few other men who had gathered on horseback. Victor had a fine, black horse, which he mounted gracefully. The group galloped away for their weekly hunt. You found it absurd that other people couldn’t see past Victor’s good looks. He was a shallow, empty person, with money and some charm.

You started back toward your house. Only, as you started to walk, you caught the eye of three other young women. They tended to follow Victor around and swoon over him. He ignored them completely. They were glaring fiercely at you and you heard them whispering, surely speculating how you could possibly need time to answer a man such as Victor.

Rolling your eyes, you began walking. Your house came into view through the trees and you walked up the stone steps. Your father was out of bed and already tying on his inventing apron.

“Morning, my dear,” he said cheerfully. “How was town?”

“Fine,” you replied dismissively. “I picked up a new book.”

He chuckled. “Just like your mother. Always have your nose in a book.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” you teased.

You placed the bread on the counter and began cutting it into slices for toast.

“Have you eaten anything yet, Papa?” you wondered.

“No, but I’ve been looking forward to your blueberry preserves all morning,” he told you.

You giggled. Over the summer, you had taken to gardening after reading a book about it. You had a natural knack for it. Over the summer, your blueberries came in sweet and ripe, so you took about half of the bush and turned them into preserves for the fall and winter. The rest, you and your father ate fresh.

“Coming right up,” you assured him.

You toasted the bread over the fire and then retrieved your preserves from the pantry. You spread it generously over the bread, and enjoyed the breakfast treat with your father. He groaned at the taste.

“Y/N, these are just delicious!” he praised. “I hope you keep growing all our food!”

“I’ll need more practice for that, but thank you,” you returned.

“So, did you see anyone in town today?” he asked.

“Well, I saw Lyle,” you began. “Speaking of which, your medicine is on the counter, don’t forget to take it. Then Jean at the book shop. And Elaine arranged some flowers for me to put on Mama’s grave.”

“How nice,” he said.

“I, uh…” you trailed off. You wondered if you should tell him about Victor’s offer. “I also saw Victor. He told me something interesting.”

“Oh? What’s that?” he wondered.

You quickly changed your mind.

“He said he’s thinking of buying the old palace.”

“I wasn’t aware it was for sale,” your father said.

“With enough money, you can get anything you want apparently,” you said, half to yourself.

Your father set down his toast, mid-bite.

“Now, Y/N,” he scolded. “That sounds like bitterness.”

“I don’t mean to, Papa,” you said apologetically. “But I feel like Victor gets everything, whether he deserves it or not, simply because he has money and a way with women. It’s maddening!”

“I know, but it’s the world we live in,” he said gently, placing his hand atop yours. “All we can do is be as kind and helpful as possible.”

You smiled. “You’re right, Papa, I’m sorry.”

“Besides, he’d have to appeal to the royal family,” your father continued. “Their living relatives will have claim to the palace before Victor. Besides, the prince may still be alive.”

Your brow furrowed. “I always heard the whole family was killed that day.”

Your father shook his head. “Not true. The king and queen were found. But the prince never was. He simply vanished, it seems. I think he escaped that night and is still alive somewhere.”

“That’s awfully hopeful,” you remarked.

“I can’t help it,” he said. “That prince was a kind boy. He used to come into town and -”

Your father stopped and was hit with a coughing fit. He hacked into his napkin, his whole body racking with the force of it. You jumped up. It had never been so intense before.

“Papa!” you cried, concerned.

“I’m alright,” he wheezed, but blood dribbled out of his mouth and down his chin. “I’m alright. I just haven’t had my medicine today, that’s all.”

“Papa, this is more than before,” you said. “It can’t just be your medicine.”

“Don’t fuss, Y/N,” he returned. “Now, I’m going to take my medicine and head down to the cellar for my new invention.” He cheered up. “I can’t tell you much just yet, but we’ll see how it works!”

You opened your mouth to argue further, but he held up a hand to stop you.

“Go see your mother,” he said gently. “I’ll be just fine.”

He took his medicine down the stairs with him before you could say anymore. With a huff, you grabbed your bouquet and headed out to the cemetery.

Your mother was buried on a grassy hill about half a mile outside the village. It was wide and spacious, and strangely the place you felt the most free. You took your book along since you sometimes read aloud to her. Other times, you leaned against her headstone and read to yourself. Today, your heart was too conflicted to read.

The choice before you was clear: marry Victor and get your father the help he needed or refuse the proposal and let your father continue to suffer. Either way, you were trapped.

You placed the flowers before your mother’s grave.

“Oh, Mama, I don’t know what to do,” you sighed. “I can’t win in either scenario.”

You paused, hoping for some inspiration. You considered what your mother would do. She was a very giving woman, but she believed in genuine love within a family. She certainly had not married your father for money. And yet, she would have done anything to save the people she loved.

“Maybe Victor isn’t so bad,” you said, trying to convince yourself. “Maybe I haven’t given him enough of a chance. Sure, he’s vain and shallow and self-centered, but he isn’t cruel. I could certainly do worse.”

You paused and heaved a sigh. It seemed so unfair.

After about an hour, you headed back. You went right down into the cellar to help your father, who was still not telling you what this new invention was. And from the looks of it, you couldn’t even guess. All the while, he coughed. He took several breaks, becoming winded after short bursts of work. All this after having taken his medicine.

You worked well into the afternoon. Then you headed upstairs to start dinner. You were just at the door, wiping your hands on your apron, when Victor walked up. You hastily wiped some soot from your cheek.

“Y/N, hello!” he said cheerfully. Then he frowned. “My goodness, what have you been doing? You look like a field hand.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’ve been helping my father. It’s not exactly neat work.”

“Don’t you have sewing or...ladies work to do?” he wondered.

You resisted the brutal urge to roll your eyes.

“Actually, Victor, all my ladies work is reserved for Tuesdays,” you said, but once again, he did not detect your sarcasm.

“Y/N, I’ve come by to see if you -”

“I know why you’re here,” you cut across him.

“Well, have you thought about it?” he asked.

“I have,” you said, heart pounding. “After careful consideration, I have decided to change my original answer. I will marry you, Victor.”

You felt like vomiting. But you knew what you had to do. Your father needed this.

“Wonderful!” he cried, punching a fist into the air. “Shall we set a date? How about a week from today?”

“Woah, settle down,” you said. “A proper wedding takes months to plan. And I want it to be done the right way, not the quickest way.”

“Ah, of course,” he replied. “Then, shall we go and give your father the good news?”

“I’ll tell him myself,” you said. “I don’t want to overwhelm him.”

He took your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles. You tried not to cringe.

“I’m sure he’ll be happy for you,” he said. “There’s no better match in town.”

You forced a smile. “Yes, I...well…”

“I can see you’re speechless,” he chuckled. “I’ll let you and your father have some time. I’ll come back tomorrow to pay him my respects.”

“Thank you, Victor,” you said. “This is going to change our lives.”

“It certainly will,” he agreed pompously. “Good day, Y/N...dear.”

You winced as he released your hand and returned to his horse. He mounted, blew you a kiss, and then trotted away with a wide grin on his face. You watched him disappear through the trees. Disgust crawled over your skin, and weren’t sure if it was for yourself or Victor. Now there was the issue of telling your father.

With a groan, you headed back down to the cellar. You heard a loud whistle of the machine he’d been building, which made you stop. You watched as everything began. Springs coiled and released, steam erupted from lids, wheels turned. All of it led to an axe - attached at the front - rising up, and coming down hard enough against a piece of wood to chop it cleanly in half.

Your mouth fell open.

“Papa!” you cried.

“Can you believe it, Y/N?!” he returned, jubilant. “It works!”

It made you sick to think you were going to have to ruin his good mood.

“Papa, I’ve got something to tell you,” you began.

“I tell you, Y/N, with this one, we’ll go far,” he continued, ignoring you. “This is going to be my greatest yet!”

“Papa, I -”

“Chopping wood is back breaking, people will be clamoring for this!” he went on. “We’ve got to celebrate! How about we -”

“Papa, listen!” you insisted.

He stopped short and looked at you. His brow furrowed at your watery eyes. He switched off the machine and the room went silent.

“I....I have more news,” you said quietly. Dread made your stomach turn. “Victor was just here.”

“Oh? Any updates on buying the old palace?”

You shook your head. “It wasn’t about that. He...well, you see...he…”

“Out with it, Y/N,” your father pressed. “Don’t leave me on tender hooks here.”

“He asked me to marry him,” you blurted out.

You found it difficult to meet your father’s gaze now. Shame made you fix your eyes to the floor.

“What did you tell him?” your father asked gently.

You looked up. “I said yes.”

Paul’s eyes went wide. You knew you had shocked him.

“Y/N, I...I didn’t think you wanted to get married,” he said. “Much less to Victor. From the way you spoke this morning, you seem to hardly even like him.”

“Well, it’s not always about what I want,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest stubbornly. “This is about what’s best for us.”

“Us?” he questioned. “Heavens, I’m not the one marrying him. What’s he got to do with me?”

You squeezed your eyes shut with frustration. A tear slid down your cheek.

“He can take care of you, Papa,” you said softly. “He can get you proper care. Better than Lyle.”

“Y/N, you can’t pledge your life to someone for my sake!” he cried, crossing over to put his hands on your arms. “You should marry someone for love! And no other reason!”

“And what, watch you die right in front of me?!” you shot back. “When I could have done something? Papa, you’re the only family I’ve got left!”

“I’m not a reason to waste your life!” he insisted. “You’re my child, I’m supposed to go before you do! And what happens then? You’ll marry a man you don’t love or respect to give me just a few more years?”

“I need you!” you argued, tears falling freely now.

“You can’t sacrifice your life for me, Y/N, I won’t let you!” he shouted.

You sobbed and collapsed into his arms. He held you against him and let you cry, patting your back soothingly. Pressed to his chest, you could hear his rattling breaths. It reaffirmed your decision.

“I won’t let you die,” you whimpered.

“Y/N, there’s a contest in the city this week,” he said. “Before you go through with this, let me go and try to win some money. If I can do that, I’ll get treatment, and you won’t have to marry Victor. Okay?”

“I’ve already accepted him, Papa,” you said, sniffling.

“Engagements can be called off,” he returned. “Let’s give my inventions one last chance to save us.”

You pulled away and looked at him. “Alright, then.”

He cupped your face in his hands, gently wiping your tears away with his thumbs.

“Have some faith, my girl,” he said. “At least this one works.”

“Oh, Papa,” you laughed.

You went up and had dinner together.

The next day, you rose early and helped your father pack up the wagon. You hitched up the horse as well. As Paul climbed into the seat, he looked at you.

“What shall I bring you if it’s good news?” he asked.

“A rose,” you replied. “The kind you always brought home for Mama.”

He smiled. “A rose it is, then.”

You stepped up on the hitch and kissed his cheek.

“Good luck, Papa,” you said. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Y/N,” he returned warmly. “I’ll see you in three days.”

“Three days,” you repeated, stepping back down.

When you were safely on the ground, he flicked the reins and he was off. You watched him go. The sun began to creep over the horizon, and with it came new hope. This invention worked, and it was incredibly useful. There was a chance.

Paul started at a brisk pace, determined to make it to the city by the afternoon. Then he’d have a whole day to sell the new invention. He was certain it would do better than the last few. It had to. His daughter’s whole future was at stake this time.

The only trouble was, getting to the big city quickly meant going through the forest. And Paul had not made the journey in over a year. Either his memory was failing him, or the path had changed. He couldn’t be sure which. But it seemed suddenly the world had gone dark, though he knew the sun still shone above the trees somewhere.

“Where are we?” he wondered aloud.

He brought the horse to a slow stop. Then he looked around. There were no signs to indicate which direction to go from there. Worried he was missing something due to the darkness, he reached into the wagon for a lantern. He lit it, which helped some, but still there was no indication for where he wanted to go. He dug around in his bag for his map. As he did so, a soft pattering through the leaves got his attention.

Rain came down, dampening his clothes. He blinked and looked up. Now it was clear why visibility was so bad. Clouds blocked out the sun. Dark, wicked looking clouds.

A jolt of fear ran up Paul’s spine. A storm would mean a cold, which was something his lungs couldn’t take right now. Not when he had to go and present his wood chopper. He needed to head back home and try again tomorrow.

He tugged the reins to the left to begin his journey home. A low rumble of thunder confirmed his decision. Then…

CLAP!

Thunder sounded almost right above them. Paul shivered as the rain came down harder. The horse whinnied nervously, backing up.

“No, Phillipe, forward,” Paul urged, flicking the reins again.

BANG! FLASH!

Lightning struck the tree in front of them and it immediately burst into flame. Phillipe neighed and reared back, throwing the wagon off balance.

“Phillipe!” Paul shouted, in an attempt to calm him.

The flames warmed the air around them. Thunder boomed above. The dry, crunchy leaves on the forest floor caught the flames from the tree. Phillipe turned tail and took off into the woods, away from the fire and further away from home.

Paul gave a yelp of surprise and held onto the reins. The wagon bumped along over the roots and rocks, and he was just trying not to be thrown off as they galloped through the darkness. The rain picked up, pelting the man’s face and eyes. Paul lowered his hat to try and shield himself, but it was already soaked through.

“Phillipe!” Paul yelled through the noise. “Phillipe, stop!”

The horse did not listen. His animal instincts had completely taken over and he was focused only on escaping the fire and storm. They hurtled through the woods without any direction or destination.

When Phillipe could go no further, he slowed, panting. Paul peered out from below his hat. He hoped he could discern where he was, but the only thing in front of him was an old, wrought iron gate. It was elaborately designed, and now that the rain had eased up, Paul could see why. Behind it was a lush garden. The most prominent growth was a stunning rose bush. Thinking of his daughter, he had Phillipe halt so he could get down. He retrieved his pocket knife and reached through the gate.

To his surprise, it squeaked open. He gasped as he lost balance and stumbled through. He brought his arm back through the bars and then walked onto the little path into the garden. The roses really were some of the finest he had ever seen. The bushes were tall so it felt like walking through a maze. Unwilling to venture too far in, he stopped before the first curve.

A large rose bloomed out from the bush. The petals looked so delicate with the rain drops adorning them. He brought forth his knife once again, and he cut the stem, carefully avoiding the thorns.

He heard a low rumble nearby. Assuming it to be thunder, he started to jog back to Phillipe. Only it wasn’t thunder, he quickly realized. A great, looming shadow had appeared above him. As he took in the shape before him, he stumbled backward and let out a scream.

#rami malek #rami malek imagine #rami malek x reader #rami malek x you #rami x reader #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap boys #freddie mercury #freddie mercury x you #freddie mercury imagine #freddie mercury x reader #borhap cast x reader #borhap boys x reader #borhap boys imagine #borhap boys x you #borhap cast imagine #borhap cast x you #tale as old as time series

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yehet-me-up · 4 years ago

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*busts through the door like I'm the Kool-Aid man* BONJOUR FUCKERS I'M BACK!!! It is I, the Theatrical Gay Anon™! I hope you're ready to endure my endless babbling for a bit cuz I've got lots to say holy shit. Consider this part 1 of like, 1000 cuz I think Tumblr got rid of the submissions feature. I apologize in advance for the spam hehe.

Okay, with that out of the way. Ms. Yehet-Me-Up, may I call you Sarah? Sarah, what the fuck!? I can't even rn. I I give you a simple suggestion, no expectations behind it. I say "Hey, don't you think it'd be cool if Zitao was in the Exodus Mall universe?" to which you said "Yeah, that'd be neat, I might do that. Perhaps make him work at an Irish pub or something" and then I flip out with gratitude and excitement thinking you're gonna do like, a DRABBLE. 500 words at MOST -Theatrical Gay Anon

Imagine my SHOCK, my STUPEFACTION, upon realizing that you wrote OVER TEN THOUSAND WORDS about Huang Zitao aka the wind beneath my wings, the rain to my drought, the corny joke to my Junmyeon. And not only that! But you did this A MONTH AGO. I could've been reading this for so long and I had no idea! How foolish am I? I can't believe you wrote all of this based off of a silly little suggestion I made. I feel like bowing over how not worthy I am Wayne's World style -Theatrical Gay Anon

NOW IN REGARDS TO THE CONTENT OF THIS MASTERPIECE OH MY GOD WHERE DO I EVEN BEGIN!? I am floored by your preeminence. First things first, the title? Perfect. Full disclosure, I suck at titles. I've been writing for over a decade now and I'm still shit with titles. It's so hard to come up with just a few words to encapsulate everything you wrote but you do it SO WELL. The moodboard? Amazing. I've always loved that picture of Zitao and it fits so well with the pub setting -Theatrical Gay Anon

I'm afraid you've written "Fractions of Tomorrow" so well that I don't see there being a need for anyone to write anything else...ever. Stories? CANCELED. Poetry? CANCELED. Biographies? CANCELED. It's all over folks. Sarah has written The Best Thing Ever. We've peaked as a society. After I finish writing these asks I'm gonna become a hermit in the woods and make friends with all of the woodland creatures that inhabit it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

But seriously though, I love absolutely everything about this story. As a Zitao fan, I'm used to getting breadcrumbs. Not a lot of ppl write fics about him. I can count on one hand how many long fics of his you can find on Tumblr. But THIS?? This was no breadcrumb, this was a whole fucking bakery. And it all appeals to me so much oh my god? The sappiness of it all, the flowery prose, the rebellious rejection of cynicism, it's all so beautiful I want to marry it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

If I discussed all of the sentences in this fic that made me giggle with joy and kick my feet around I'd be here all day so keep in mind this is just a FRACTION of the ones I loved but I couldn't go without mentioning at least some of them so here we go. "It’s not his first time here, but it’s his first time paying attention" SHUT UP this line is go good it's so simple yet so nuanced I adore it. Seriously, why hasn't anyone hired you to write a screenplay? -Theatrical Gay Anon

"He wonders if you ironed the collar of your shirt to be that precise or if you simply move through the world without acquiring any wrinkles" God, this line is so CUTE it's DISGUSTING he's fond of the reader's un-wrinkled clothes that's such a specific thing to like and is totally the type of thing I've done with the ppl I've crushed on throughout my life. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Zitao,’ he says finally. ‘Cute.’ You say" this is such a little thing but I love that you included his full name in this. I love his full name so much it sounds really pretty. Whenever I hear him refer to himself as "Huang Zitao" in interviews my heart soars. Hearing him speak Mandarin in general is a delight as well. It's an audibly gorgeous language and any racist who says otherwise can EAT MY ENTIRE ASS -Theatrical Gay Anon

"For someone who’s been in love for as long as you can remember she fights awfully hard against Baekhyun’s romantic nature" DEAR GOD I LOVE THESE TWO! I love these movie loving lovesick fools. I love that everyone in the world knows they love each other except them. I love seeing bits and pieces of their story throughout this written universe. I can't wait to see it all come together in Baekhyun's Exodus Mall fic. It's gonna be GLORIOUS -Theatrical Gay Anon

Also! I know you enjoyed my song recs that I thought fit perfectly with All Our Broken Places so here are some for when the Baek x Hitchcock fic drops. I know it's not done yet but I just *know* what it's gonna be like I can feel it in my bones. "Sidekick" by Walk the Moon and "Tongue Tied" by Grouplove. As for Fractions of Tomorrow I knew right away what songs I'd pick. "Dreams" by The Cranberries, "Jumpstarted" by Jukebox the Ghost and "Don't Stop Believing" by Journey -Theatrical Gay Anon

Gosh, this fic filled me with so much energy and joy I feel like a toddler on caffeine. But I really should sleep now though. It's gotten so late that I can see the sunrise peaking up sdksdksl. I'll see ya soon! I will be spamming you with more compliments about this fic once I wake up though! - Theatrical Gay Anon

Hi! I'm back. Okay, now where was I? Oh yeah, I was talking about some of my favorite lines from the story. "‘Hey man, how’s it going?’ Baekhyun reaches out and does a complex handshake with the man before you. ‘Oh, you know. Just working at the salt mines,’ Tao says with a laugh." I LOVE that you made Baek the one Zitao was close with. I miss the beef brothers so much. I'll never forgive SM for what they did to OT12. They were all such good friends 😔 -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘I’m not sure.’ For a flash Tao’s eyes linger on you once more. ‘I think it would depend on the person.’ And then the bastard goes and winks at you." GOD, HE WOULD DO SOMETHING LIKE THIS! HE'S SUCH A SHAMELESS FLIRT I HATE HIM *narrator voice* This was of course a huge a lie, he in fact loved Zitao immensely -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Sweetheart, I’m everyone’s type.’" You've captured Zitao's unlimited confidence so well and that makes me really happy. It's one of my favorite things about him. The man truly loves himself and I think that's awesome -Theatrical Gay Anon

"Tao looks at you through his lashes, bending close enough that you can feel his breath on your lips when he speaks. ‘Words are just the appetizer, darling. I prefer to have an entire feast.’ 'Any other questions or can I grab your orders?’" ASDKDSDSL SO YOU'RE JUST GONNA SAY THAT PANTY DROPPER LINE AND GO BACK TO BUSINESS AS USUAL ZITAO???? HUH??? IS THAT WHAT WE'RE GONNA DO??? -Theatrical Gay Anon

"‘Oh, nothing.’ He looks like the cat that caught the canary. ‘I just love being right.’" Something I love about EXO fic writers (myself included lol) is that despite all of the different ways they'll write the other members, there is one member who is always written the same and that's Baekhyun. He will always be written as a cheeky little shit cuz he *is* a cheeky little shit. That's just who he is. Messing with ppl is a favorite past time of his. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"'So, love, huh? There’s not some girlfriend or boyfriend of yours waiting for you at home?’" Thank you for not being heteronormative with the "are you dating someone?" convo. I know it might not seem like much but I really appreciate it. -Theatrical Gay Anon

"The beginning of love is always a lightning bolt. If that’s all it ever is you never have to deal with being knocked on your ass by the resulting thunderstorm" OOF, this one got me. So very true. The beginning of love is so scary! -Theatrical Gay Anon

"I could argue that anarchy still is love. Love of your beliefs and love of a person or a place or a thing so much that you’re willing to fight for it" OKAY BUT PASSIONATE LEATHER JACKET WEARING ANARCHIST ZITAO IN A ROCK BAND IS SUCH AN ATTRACTIVE CONCEPT!!! There's nothing sexier than a bad boi that will hate capitalism with you! He'd probably be the one to give ppl rides to protests and stuff I LOVE IT -Theatrical Gay Anon

"If we say love is a feeling, who’s to say that we aren’t in love? If we decide it’s an action then which one is it? A kiss or a commitment or - maybe it’s nothing more complicated than putting words to the way I feel when you look at me?" Listen I don't mean to be dramatic or anything (wait, who am I kidding? I'm literally the Theatrical Gay Anon being dramatic is like my Thing) but if a guy ever said that to me my trans boi pussy would be open for business IMMEDIATELY

Alright, so, uh Final Thoughts. This may be my new favorite work of yours, and no it's not just cuz it's got my ultimate bias in it lmao. This year has been so shitty and it's made my depression + anxiety reach the highest possible levels but reading this, this love story filled with hope and certainty despite not knowing what the future will hold for them, made this year seem easier to cope with. Thank you so much for making this, it means the world to me. -Theatrical Gay Anon

ALRIGHT, LAST ASK AND THEN I'LL SHUT UP I PROMISE but I personally headcanon that Double Shot + Zitao stayed together till the very end. They didn't get married cuz they hate formalities but they got matching tattoos and even when they're old and grey you can still them clear as day on their wrists. When they're asked how they met no one believes their answer lol. And when Double Shot died of old age before Zitao he would sing her favorite song by her grave every Saturday -Theatrical Gay Anon

OKAY SO I know I said I was done and I know I've already sent in like, 30 bajillion asks but I'm curious does Yifan or Luhan also work at the Irish pub?? Or do they work somewhere else in the mall? Inquiring minds want to know -Theatrical Gay Anon

When I tell you this made my entire month (when you sent it weeks ago, I’ve been hanging onto these because they seriously bring me SO much joy holy crap) I am not remotely kidding j;oaisjdflkasdjfa

I am absolutely going to put on these song recs while I work on the next chapter!

a;osdfjlaksdfjasl the fact that you stayed up late to read this warms my heart so much. It reminds me of all the times I stayed up til the ass crack of dawn reading fanfics because I simply could NOT stop reading, so the fact that you enjoyed this like that makes me helllllaaaa emo 🥰

I just??? 2020 was indeed such a long year and affected my energy and creativity and honestly don’t really remember writing this hahaha. I kind of go into a fugue state with these longer fics and they just EMERGE. So to see you reflecting back some of what I wrote allows me to enjoy the process so much more. Makes writing and tumblr fun and I seriously wish everyone writing and creating could have someone as passionate and thoughtful and hilarious as you hyping them up 🌟 it honestly feels like a GIFT and I will absolutely keep writing this series and hoping to be worthy of it 😘

We will definitely get to see more of these two in the finale fic! I got into EXO after Tao, Yifan, and Luhan left so I’m not quite as familar with their personalities, but I could definitely see Yifan working at the US Bank haha. Business suit by day and partying/flirting by night. As for Luhan I feel like he’d work somewhere like the bookstore or the music store?? somewhere quieter and more contemplative.

Thank you again for sending this and for being you <3 I hope 2021 is a wonderful year for you and that you know how AMAZING you are 💖💖💖💖💖

#asks #theatrical gay anon

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thatmultifandomhoe · 4 years ago

Text

The Extremely Large Tag Game

ATagged By: @dreamystuffers thank you sweet pea and HOLY SHIT THIS REALLY IS THE ULTIMATE TAG GAME BUT I AM READY.

SECTION ONE: First and last tag: post the first line of a wip as well as the last line you’ve written so far!

So I have several Wips at the moment and whelp, I’m gonna do them all lol.

The Size of a Heart: Wonho and Reader (Drabble)

First Line Written: The sky was burning as the sun set for the night, cloaking the city in its familiar darkness.

Last Line Written: “I tell myself that it’s better if it hurts, but I…I can’t anymore…I can’t.”

Tentatively Falling: Vampire Jongdae and Reader (Series)

First Line Written: Strobe lights flashed around the dark bar, drawing your attention every now and then when they went wild as the bass dropped.

Last Line Written: It was more than you ever thought, but it was exactly what you dreamt about hearing him say.

Heavenly Father: Boyfriend Yoongi, Priest Jimin, Alter boy Jungkook, and Reader (Smut Crack Drabble - Title May Change)

First Line Written: The stain glass windows in the Church were a sight to see during the day, the sunlight streaming through and bringing life to the images during the service, and brought a sense of comforting to those during times of trouble.

Last Line Written: Jimin groaned and your eyes watered when your nose was pressed against the base, his dick down your throat.

Knitting You a Home: Wolf Hybrid Namjoon and Reader (Series)

First Line Written: The wind howled while rain pelted your house as the storm refused to let up.

Last Line Written: For the moment, his thoughts were cleared, allowing him to fall asleep with you safely in his arms.

SECTION TWO. Enter 15 of your biases and put them in this order to discover the story of your life

Parent: Hongjoong

well I mean he is pretty daddy at times

Sibling: Jongdae

Grandparent: Sammy

Haunts you: Vernon

Significant other: Jooheon

HELL YEAH BITCHES

Ex: Yuta

damn that’s...that’s a change

Best friend: Chanyeol

Proposed to you: Yoongi

Was this before Jooheon or after Jooheon? Who’s my ass with?

Your boss: Taeyong

Random person you meet a the bar: Seonghwa

Rival: Bang Chan

BUT HE’S THE SWEETEST HUMAN BEING THO

First kiss: Namjoon

Drunk and singing karaoke with: Wonho

Played seven minutes in heaven with: Felix

Gave you your favorite dessert: Jackson

I...I can see this one. He’s sweet to do that

SECTION THREE. Describe your bias by their vibes as if they were someone in your life. (I’m doing my Ults, 1 from each group.)

Jongdae (EXO): The guy that everyone knows because he’s the one with that distinguishable laugh. The class clown that knows the limits and only crosses them on rare occasions. You think you know him but then he’ll say something that you never knew about him. Craves his independence but is the quiet one when in a large group, smiling as he watches the more energetic ones run about. An old soul trapped in a young body.

Yoongi (BTS): The one who devotes himself to his work and rarely sees the light of day. His room is littered with empty to go cups of coffee mixed with his own assortment of coffee mugs Coffee ring stains on furniture. You think he’s not listening or paying attention but when you least expect it, he’ll quietly do something or hand you a gift that he knows you treasure. He’ll never ask for cuddles, but he’ll always give them to you and refuse to let you go when you try to get up. Wise beyond his years because he’s suffered and doesn’t wish it on anyone else.

Yuta (NCT): The popular guy that at first everyone warns you about, but once you get to know him yourself, you don’t know why they warned you in the first place because he’s a total sweetheart. The guy who flirts with everyone and anyone, but remains loyal to his girl. He’s never without his iced coffee, and he’s dyeing his hair in the bathtub with a friend to help make sure it doesn’t go too wrong. Will entertain your drunk texts. He’s the one to text at 2 am when you’re feeling alone and down and he’ll do what he can to lift you back up with nothing but the truth.

Hongjoong (Ateez): He’s the guy who doesn’t give a shit about trends or styles, he creates his own. The guy who does the piercings at the local tattoo shop knows him by name because he’s gotten so many of his piercings done there. He is the Fashion DIY King. Will roast his friends the hardest because he loves them the most and takes it when they dish it back. Somehow manages to rock hairstyles - long live the mullet - that no one thought should have ever existed. Don’t let him cook though. If he cooks you’ll end up with food poisoning. He’s the one who will let you try makeup tricks and new products on him. Secretly amazing at painting nails.

Wonho (Monsta X): He’s the guy friend that you never expected to be friends with. Him? You? Total opposites on a physical scale. On completely different levels. Once you get to know him, he’s a total teddy bear. Doesn’t question it when you suddenly appear and hug him without saying a word, he’ll simply hug you back while maintaining the conversation he had going. Or he’ll simply surprise you with a hug because he likes them.

Bang Chan (Stray Kids): He’s the one that always has his earbuds in even during class. Like he’s the guy that has the earbud going through the sleeve of his hoodie and is pressing his palm against his ear to listen to the music. Listens to everyone, even if he doesn’t know them that well and gives really good advice if they ask for it.

Jackson (Got7): The guy that you can hear a mile away. Hyper. Can’t sit still to save his life. He was the guy that you’d see doing laps in the hallway with his friends when he should have been in class, but he was the nice one. Passionate and when you ask him about what he’s working on, he’ll talk about it for hours. Will also apologize multiple times for going on but then continue to go on.

SECTION FOUR. Search your name + “core aesthetic” on Pinterest and make yourself a moodboard

SECTION FIVE. Make a normal and fantasy version of yourself using this !

SECTION SIX. Writing tag game!

What is your ideal setting for focusing on your writing?

A quiet office where I can play music softly in the background and be at a desk with a comfortable chair.

What Genre do you prefer to write?

Slice of Life, Young Adult, College Age.

Do you prefer to write on paper or digitally?

Both.

It’s the middle of the night and you suddenly wake up with an idea. What do you do?

Make a note of it in either my notebook or in the notes section on my phone.

Who is your favorite person to write about?

Jimin and Hoseok

Do you like making your own characters, or do you usually write about real people?

I like to do both. Honestly, it’s kinda like a mix of both. With some of my fics, the only thing that makes them fanfics are that I’m using the real person’s name, and I’ll pin point on certain aspects of their physical features. In Brotið Hjarta, the only thing that connects to it being Namjoon is his name, and maybe his hair style/color and ear piercings, everything else was what I imagined it to be.

Have you ever written a book/story with more than 15 chapters (100K words)?

Yes. Strawberry Cream and BBQ

How often do you get ideas?

From everyday life, sometimes I’ll be daydreaming and it kinda morphs into a story or a fanfic and so I’ll make notes so that I don’t forget it.

Do you ever get an idea that you really like, but just can’t seem to finish?

Yessss, all the time.

What is your least favorite plot?

I don’t know about least favorite plots, but I do hate it when fics dive straight into a story without any background or anything. Wait, so maybe that’s pwp fics????? I don’t want to be a hypocrite, but even with my fics that primarily focus on smut, I still add in those background details and give them a teeny tiny plot.

SECTION SEVEN. Put your music on shuffle and reveal the first ten songs that come on.

The Kids Aren’t Alright - Fall out Boy

In the Dark - Bring Me the Horizon

Teeth - 5 Seconds of Summer

All In - Monsta X

To the Beat - Ateez

Shot - Lil’ Jon

Daechwita - Agust D

Treasure - Ateez

Adore You - Harry Styles

Guys My Age - Hey Violet

SECTION EIGHT. Questions tag:

Relationships: 2

Break-ups: 2

Kids: Right now? 0

Brothers and Sisters: 1 older brother.

Pets: 0

Surgeries: 0

Tattoos: 0

Countries you’ve been to: 0

Been in an airplane: yes

Been in an ambulance: yes

I sing karaoke: hell no.

Ice skating: I like it but I suck at it and have only been able to go during school events in the past.

Been on a cruise: hell no

Driven a motorcycle: nope

Ridden a horse: yes

Stayed in a hospital: nope

Favorite fruit or berry: Raspberries

Favorite color: Magenta

Last text: “Perfect! I’ll let you know when I am able to send yours out!” - I do pen palling and was letting someone know when I could send them a post card in exchange for the one I’m getting.

Cat or dog: Cat

Favorite pizza: White sauce pizza with chicken and feta cheese

Met a star: nope

Flown a helicopter: nada

Been on TV: nope

Broken my leg: nope

Seen a ghost: don’t believe in them.

Been sick in a taxi: nope

Seen someone die: no

SECTION NINE: Fifteen questions tag:

One ; it’s your birthday! what did you ask for?

Gift cards, um...(this is bad because my birthday is actually coming up) maybe some things from my Amazon list?

Two ; what was the last song / album you listened to?

WAP by Cardi B

Three ; what is your go to snack when you’re hungry?

Chocolate, cookies or cookies dipped in peanut butter

Four ; what is your morning routine?

Wake up, check messages on my phone while still in bed, get up, make coffee, maybe eat breakfast, drink coffee in bed, listen to music/watch videos or read on phone while drinking coffee, get dressed, brush teeth and skincare routine, make bed.

Five ; what mythical creature would you be?

An Elf? Or a Forest Witch. Something that has to do with the Earth and nature.

Six ; how do you interact with someone you don’t like?

I give short and straight to the point answers, if I’m working on something and they come up to me I’ll pointedly focus on that task instead of them.

Seven ; how do you define a toxic person?

Someone who lies, who makes you feel bad about the things that you do, that puts you done while lifting themselves, who is constantly bragging about their own things, who puts down others, who acts like they’re better, who acts like they’re way of life should be the only way of life.

Eight ; have you ever been to a concert or a fan-meet? if not, would you want to?

I have not, but I would like to one day because they seem fun and it would be nice to see a performance in person.

Nine ; do you believe in astrology? why or why not?

I do, mostly because it’s fun and interesting and I tend to find that I do a lot of the things and act like my zodiac sign without realizing it (aka I’m a Virgo).

Ten ; if you could have only one sense (hearing, touch, sight, etc.), which would you keep?

Hearing.

Eleven ; who is your favorite celebrity or idol?

At the moment, BM from Kard.

Twelve ; if you could talk to your favorite celebrity for a limited time, what would you tell them?

How do you keep going when it gets hard?

Thirteen ; I’m taking you out on a date. where are we going?

Maybe an art museum, or somewhere with flowers?

Fourteen ; do you prefer sweet or savory?

Sweet.

Fifteen ; do you have any Merch from any of your favorite artists?

I have several BTS albums and an EXO album.

I AM Tagging: @mygsii @myforeverforlife @peonybane @hobicomeholla29 @loser-dot-com @jeonsdear @namsjoon @kpopcinnamonswirlroll @eashmo201 @1997jk @soulofatiny @cherryeoo @minniepetals @minniesmarshmallow @yoongi-sugaglider @crystaljins @taestfully @hyyunjins @i-am-delaney @worldwidebt7 @flurrys-creativity @apurpledheart @holyfluffly @yunception @boymeetsweevil @chans-chair @brokecollegenerd @jinyoungsir @writersrealmbts @kpophoneybunny @actuallythatwaspromise @ladyartemesia @haylo4ever @ggukcangetit @kpopfanfictrash @wwilloww @jingabitch @kigurumu @jamaiskook @thatlongspringnight @ot7always-main @hauntedlilies @koophoriia @lorealchanelll @sweetheart--sannie @sweetae-tae @iniquitouspoppy

#tagged #oh my god this was a big and long one #but i done did it #get to know the blogger

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lesbiancarat · 4 years ago

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Book anon here to say today is a happy day because it is dk and vernon day ^0^ the fact they share bdays makes my heart so big like djakdnaks that's the best thing really! (I say this as I don't like celebrating my own birthday lol but that shiz makes me soft) like how can it not get better than sharing a birthday with your fellow bandmate who is also your buddy :'))

Back on topic, I am happy that in the fandoms I'm in, update blogs or accounts are well loved so no drama there but I agree on cc peeps, my gosh the decline of them is obvious for the past 2 years =/ I remember 2018 the carat fandom here was HUGE with creators and lots of notes but now...its hard to see more than 200 for some and while numbers don't matter because you should ALWAYS be doing this for fun, its so shocking to see the interaction go so low and its more likes. I do have a theory as to why this is the case and it might be due to nowadays, people on Tumblr find reblogging alot to be "too much" akaspamming. I would know because some told me I do this and I'm like ??? I am simply reblogging content I like and if it means hitting the rbelog limit so be it djajdjw. Legit idk why its seen as bad nowadays when everyone used to reblog alot and no one complained so maybe this could be why? Again a theory but it would make sense and its a shame if this is the case :c I admit I like stuff because I sometimes do reblog it for a color theme but mostly I hit the reblog limit so I want to reblog it later xD

But let's not get into people that take others work as their own -.- now I get giving credit for say icons (I do this for icons and headers I use because its the least I can do. I would link it but idk how to do it on Tumblr lol) but taking someone's say gif and just posting it on twitter to share is like ??? You do know there is a share button that SHARES THE ORIGINAL LINK BACK RIGHT? Smh i can't with people. That's why I try to make sure for icons at least I know its not a repost and try to stay away from pintrest as best as I can (also svt on pintrest? Are they making moodboards or smth? I leave Tumblr for a bit and this is what I come back to lol)

Oof I wrote too much again sjamdna I'm living up to my emoji huh? XD but yes my tooth is better! It hurt again last night but today we are good!

I'm late answering this but yeah the fact that dk and vernon share a Birthday is super sweet! it's fun that they get to do their birthday live together as well ^^

but yeah i joined carat tumblr around late 2017/early 2018 (i made this side blog during oh my era but I'd been reblogging svt stuff on main before then) and I'm p sure most if not all the cc's i originally followed are inactive now :( obviously like you said content creators should make content for fun and bc they want to and not for the notes, but it's understandably disheartening when less people are interacting with it and even the people who do still see your content are (at least seemingly) less enthusiastic about it (ie liking but not reblogging it, less ppl writing things in the tags or replies, etc.)

but that's so wild to me? I've never heard anyone say someone is reblogging too many things like... how do you expect to see posts if people don't reblog stuff?? id welcome that extra content on my dash dhfjfh. i guess you can go in specific tags but like. idk reblogging is the main function of tumblr i don't know why there are people sort of against it/not as willing to use it (i mean... i suspect at least one factor is other social media platforms relying more on algorithms and likes to show people new content and ppl are just more used to that maybe?)

i feel like to some extent people feel entitled to have every or any gif or fanart or fan content on their platform of choice, but like if an artist posts something on tumblr but not on twt or instagram it doesn't HAVE to be on twt or insta. people can make a tumblr (or whatever platform) account if that's the only place a creator is active and they really want to see their content. and if people want to share something cool to another platform it is not hard to just post a link to the original post and tell people to check it out. like i do that every once in a while if there's a translation that doesn't allow reposts, but i still want ppl to know that trans exists if they wouldn't normally. and yeah!! you're gonna get less engagement that way!! but that's when you need to question whether your intention is really to share something cool w people who wouldn't normally see it or if you just want clout from this cool thing for yourself

and obviously not everyone who reposts things wo credit or permission has such innocent intentions as "i want to share this cool thing" but i think in a lot of cases it is something similar to that where ppl see something and they want to use it or share it for whatever reason and they just forget that it's something an actual person took the time to create and chose to share it. fan creations, unless otherwise specified, are not like memes in that they're intended to be shared and edited and copied to hell and back

but yeah pinterest is the worst in terms of reposts. like very little if any of the content on there (at least that's fandom related) is original content. the vast majority is reposts from other platforms without credit. a few weeks ago i saw someone on twt post like an old SVT photo or something and someone asked where it was from and they were like 'idk i saw it on pinterest' and when i tell u my blood boiled dhfkfj like!! ok!! so you're reposting a repost and u have no idea what the original source is... great

but yeah i have no idea what SVT is gonna do with pinterest... guessing it's just gonna be pledis posting official/behind photos that they also post on twt anyway. it really looks like it's something bh made them create given other bhl artists also have pinterests they're all following each other. also pledis didn't even officially announce the new account opening anywhere as far as I've seen so like. i think they really don't care dhfkfj

i really don't know what bh thinks they're gonna gain though like. ik there are active fandom pinterest users but i think most of them also have other social media like twt or insta. like they're not cracking open a huge new market, and LITERALLY NO ONE expects any musician or celeb to have an official Pinterest so. it's just so unnecessary dhfkgj

I'm glad your tooth is feeling better!!!

#melia.ask #ask #📖 anon #oof prime example of me getting carried away and writing too much #this was meant to be a quick break from studying #theres another ask in my inbox which is short anyway but i really have to get back to hw and studying ;-;#long post

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smolbeandrabbles · 5 years ago

Text

The Scientist - Killian (Spies in Disguise)

x OC

Author’s Note: Well I can’t draw her, so I’m writing her. (Even though she’s our reader character with her name back so... I’m already writing for her.) AND forcing my two current MoTM to work together. Because screw the both of you and your voice actors, okay!?

Right. *ehem* Rant over. Here we go.

...Uh... If you know nothing about the Dark Crystal (Specifically Age of Resistance) then... uhm... I mean you don’t need to know much but it is heavily referenced. Anyone who knows the characters might look at the title and know exactly where I’m going to go with this... though To the people I’ve forced now to look at that moodboard 3 times. I’m not sorry.

Disclaimer: Dark Crystal characters not mine / Spies in Disguise characters not mine / lyrics not mine / OC is my baby

Premise: On the eve of an important business event Killian still has time to learn some important lessons....

Words: 2662

Warnings: Possible Dark Crystal spoilers / equal parts fluff & banter... with the tiniest bit of angst. Not Reader Insert...

________ You don't know how lovely you are I had to find you Tell you I need you Tell you I set you apart Tell me your secrets And ask me your questions Oh let's go back to the start Running in circles, coming up tails Heads on a science apart Nobody said it was easy No one ever said it would be this hard Oh take me back to the start I was just guessing at numbers and figures Pulling your puzzles apart Questions of science, science and progress Do not speak as loud as my heart Tell me you love me Come back and haunt me Oh and I rush to the start Running in circles, chasing our tails Coming back as we are

---

It was getting pretty late when Killian finally glanced up from his work at the clock. He sighed, if he didn’t go now he wouldn’t even be fashionably late. He sat back in his chair and tapped the file in front of him – no, he didn’t want to go. But given the importance of the event he knew he would have to. Swivelling, Killian propped himself on his elbows to check on KiTT. The little assistance drone was busy putting all the final checks in place, chattering away to itself. Killian had long since sent her away, but he supposed it was time to call it a night. “KiTT!” The little Drone finished soldering and beeped enthusiastically, zooming through the air to his side as Killian stood; “Let’s go. It’s late.” He beeped again and then hovered ahead at pace as Killian dragged the file from the desk and began shutting down. He took a deep breath, big day tomorrow… And followed the drone out. Upon ascending to the living floor Killian could already hear the television, probably on louder that necessary, and knew she would be curled up relaxing to one of her favourite shows. Upon hearing this himself KiTT gave an excited squeak and set off quickly towards the room. Killian just chuckled and rolled his eyes; “Yeah! Don’t wait up!” He instead turned off at their bedroom to deposit the file on his side table and pick out a tie. Once that was sorted he crossed the corridor and into the little room she’d set herself up in.

“Ashlinn, would you-” He paused and raised an eyebrow at the TV screen. She was concentrating hard, hair pulled back off her face in a high pony tail, knees up, blanket around her, thumb pressed up against her lips, green eyes wide. Killian stepped a little closer and leant forward, intrigued. “Are they… puppets?” She nearly jumped, and then threw the remote at him; “OH MY GOD-! KNOCK-!” That only made him laugh as she scrambled to pause it; “Sorry, I didn’t realise you were that into it.” “This is pretty dark stuff, you just gave me a heart attack!” He noticed that KiTT was now resting next to her on the sofa; “Oh and he didn’t? Dark?!” He indicated to the screen, “It looks like the Muppets, what is this?” “First off- How dare you! This is the Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance!” Ashlinn glared at him, arms folded “Second of all – I guess you’re not wrong, it’s all Jim Henson. Third of all, KiTT doesn’t bother me and actually sat down quietly. Unlike some people.” Killian sat next to her and presented himself to show he could also do just that; “I see you’re not going to forgive me until I ask about it.” “…It’s pretty good, yeah.” She narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. He crossed his legs, resting his foot up on his knee and pointed back to the screen – a single character now stuck on pause “Who is that?” “Rian. He’s the hero. Or, one of. To be honest, I didn’t like him at first – annoying – but he grows on you.” “Uh huh. I see…” He tipped his head, the character looked a little like an Elf. But Killian wasn’t really getting passed the puppets and his smile was amused. “Great colour scheme though.” Ashlinn scoffed, yeah he would think that, blue and black. “So, if he’s the hero but is annoying. Who is your favourite?” She laughed, giving him a sideways glance of significance; “Oh, you know me, K. I’ve always had a thing for the bad guy.” He raised an eyebrow at her, “Oh? Are they strange little puppets too?” “I mean I guess.” She gave a shrug “Although they don’t look like that – they are strange, raptor… bird creatures. My personal favourite is the Emperor… though half of it is probably Jason Isaacs’ voice acting, cuz hot damn.” Killian wasn’t sure if he should be worried about her or not, but his face was clearly bemused. It didn’t deter Ashlinn “…You got nothing to worry about babe, trust me.” “Are you sure… I mean, this raptor bird thing is an Emperor.” “Ha. Ha. You’re in luck, he’s black and purple. Oh but he does have pretty neat blue eyes.” “Blue eyes and a great voice. That… sounds familiar.” His smirk was almost cocky, “Well yeah – and a bad guy. I’m a complete sucker. Thank God I have you!” He had to chuckle at her dry humour. “Anyone else, or is he the epitome of characters.” “Well, Deet, she’s one of the heroines, is just absolutely adorable…” Killian watched the way Ashlinn’s eyes lit and the way her voice pitched. That was something he recognized in her alright, from days long since past. He hadn’t seen a lot of it since Kyrgyzstan... “I see. And is she a raptor bird or does she look like Rian?” He pointed back to the screen “Or neither?” “Oh. No! She’s not a Skeksis! She’s a Gelfling like Rian, but a completely different type. So she’s green. OH! And girls have wings.” All Killian looked now was completely lost. “…Right.” “I’ve lost you, haven’t I?” “Yup.” Ashlinn indicated to the screen “You could just watch?” Killian would say yes, but he also knew he had to leave. And in the back of her head, Ash knew that too, so she sighed, trying not to make him say it for himself. “…You know…” her voice was quiet, and she lowered her eyes from his face “…There is another character. And maybe you’d like him…” “Go on…” “He’s… I dunno… I mean I guess he’s one of the bad guys, but he kinda has a heart and he cares about a few things, y’know… He actually refers to some of the creatures as his friends. He likes tinkering with things, and experimenting… I mean, maybe he’s a little crazy, but it all adds to the charm.” Killian watched the little smile creep across her face, “And he kinda snuck up on me, I didn’t exactly expect to like him but then – boom – he successfully infiltrated my heart… And he’s kinda a little isolated and no one understands him. Sometimes they are downright mean... I don’t like that very much. BUT he’s a complete genius, like oh my god! Without him they wouldn’t have a CLUE! He also ends up in some not fantastic situations because of some complete assholes.” She gave a shrug “I mean I guess he’s a little like you.” Killian had a feeling she was going to come to that conclusion. “What’s his name?” “The Scientist.” She smiled gently, “But he… he’s also cybernetic. But like almost literally in exactly the same way you are. I mean it’s his right arm and his right eye but… it was a weird thing to suddenly realise. I mean I think his leg too, but that’s more me, so we’ll forget that - And I mean the eye at least wasn’t his fault… But I just. Do I love him because of you or is it just… that I’m making a connection that-” “Ash.” Killian brought her back to him gently, “It’s okay… you made your point.” But he was smiling too, “So. This Scientist. You think he’d be my favourite?” “I mean he’s cool and he’s my baby, so yeah.” “Your baby…” He chuckled at the protective way she said it, and even that notion made sense – as the way she was with him; “Fair enough…” But after perhaps piquing his interest, Ashlinn wanted to take this as far as she could; “He’s also voiced by Mark Hamill. Which, I think is pretty damn cool on its own.” “Luke Skywalker, huh?” “Yeah.” Ashlinn gave a gentle knowing smile which only made him laugh, “Okay, darling I get it.” “Well I just need to make sure you do alright!? Though I can’t say any of them are Australian. Which is a shame.” He sighed gently, “I always knew it was the accent.” “Certainly is! Everything else I hate but that’s pretty sexy.” “Well if one thing keeps you here who am I to argue...!?” Killian’s eyes flicked to the screen curiously “...what does he look like?” “Oh! You’re interested?” She beamed - But instead of hitting play Ashlinn scrabbled for her phone, typing in details she turned it around to him. “Ta da!” Killian took it from her delicately, immediately getting the “cybernetic” physicality comparison but also- “Oh my god-! Is that what they look like!?” He couldn’t really hide his face of disgust, “Yeah. Bird raptors is right! I hope you’re not making a physical comparison!” To jab back at him Ashlinn simply folded her arms; “Well you can hardly talk! I mean-!” He opened his mouth, wanting her to be so bold as to try that one again; “Don’t you dare!” “I offered plastic surgery-!” She simply gave another shrug, not breaking her measured stare “Oh my god! How could you say that to my face-!?” He throw her phone across the room in revulsion and it clattered twice. “Well that was uncalled for!” “I do not look like THAT!” She snorted, placing her hand over her heart at how serious Killian was taking her – and then took a deep breath, looking at him like he was insane. A look he was rather too used to these days; “What-!? That’s not what I said!” “Good. Unless you’re about to tell me you’re attracted-” Ashlinn held her hands up “Woooah, I think that’s something else! And would be incredibly private! Thankyouverymuch-!” There was a pause as Killian eyed her suspiciously, then he sighed “I’ll get your phone…” “Thank you.” She watched him draw himself to height, and as her stare was already so intense she couldn’t help but bite her lip as she watch him cross the room, and then stride back. He resumed the same comfortable position he’d just left and held it out to her, not catching her eye - Ashlinn took it back just as delicately as he had - noticing the way Killian smiled as she made sure to brush her fingertips against his. “But I mean it… I think you’d really like to see a character who… is like… you are.” Ashlinn gave a shrug; “It might help.” Then she grinned with a wink; “Besides, we already know: Cybernetics are sexy!” He took her hand in his for a moment, though his huffed laugh was in agreement, “Ash… Darling… You’ve helped enough. But if you want me to watch it with you, of course I will. Only, tonight, I’m afraid I cannot.” She glanced to his attire; and more noticeably his slacked tie. “Oh! I’m sorry, you could have just asked!” “No. I wanted to hear you talk about your Dark Crystal.” “You did not!” “Not necessarily true – It makes you happy… Ties are just… hard.” He indicated to his hands, then sat still for her. Ashlinn knelt up and pulled Killian towards her, tugging the tie she looped it into an Eldredge knot and pulled it tight, straightening his collar. “Big event?” “Corporate.” “That explains the waistcoat.” She brushed him down; “It looks pretty sexy I’ll give it that.” “Don’t you start!” He gave her a warning look, but it was half hearted, and she offered him a smirk back; “Don’t forget to pick me up some diamonds!” “Oh no!” Killian pulled her into him kissing her temple “No stealing tonight-!” She snickered, even though she knew that; “Aw, you’re no fun!” “Mmm, so you say.” He murmured against her skin, but all that did was send a shiver of delight up her spine. “J-Just be careful with that arm.” Killian let her turn to him, releasing her from his grip, although Ashlinn kept her hands on him; “I will, I promise.” Her eyes searched his face, curiously, “…What is it for?” “You mean who am I tonight?” He tipped his head, “Tristan.” “Then be EXTRA careful.” “Ashlinn…” He nearly murmured it, blue eyes looking between hers, “You have my word.” “Good. Keep it.” She let him go and kissed his cheek, curling back up on the sofa. Killian shook his head slowly, she was about as unfathomable as her explanation of the program she was watching, and pulled Ash back to him. This time his lips were against hers, and she closed those gorgeous green eyes, running her hands up his chest and wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she didn’t dare crease his suit or mess his hair up. Killian on the other hand could run his hands through her long dark hair. He wanted it to last longer, he wanted to lay her back and make her forget about whoever this Scientist guy was and get her lost in real cybernetics… But he knew he couldn’t, and Killian pulled back all too fast. “I’m sorry. I wish I could stay.” She did her best to look understanding, “No, go, this is important I know. Go-!” He stood, and shrugged on his suit jacket; “I’ll leave you to your… bird raptors now…” “Please, who needs those cybernetics when I have yours.” “And your own.” He snapped his fingers, “Intriguing notion.” “Oh shit! You had the same one.” He chuckled, leaving that to her imagination; “I’ll see you later, Ashlinn.” “Awwww--!” She whined, “That’s not fair!” Ash watched him walk away, the way he still tucked his arm behind his back like that. Bother, or shame, or because it looked cool... she wondered which Killian would admit to. It wasn’t the lightest material but she’d made sure that his muscles and his back could hold it. Maybe it was easier to balance his weight distribution that way..? She thought voicing it might just get his back up, but it didn’t make her any less sad about it. And she worried. Mind you, Ashlinn always worried. More so now than ever before.

Killian paused at the door and turned back to her; “I’ll be really late home, okay, so… don’t wait up for me.” Her eyes flicked to the screen, and then back to him; “Uh… Yeah.” He rolled his eyes; “Alright unless the show is still on!” Killian blew her a kiss, “Goodnight Ashlinn!” But listening to his footsteps fade away only made her feel lonely and she had to call him back; “Tristan! I love you!” He stopped dead, and chuckled. Tristan… A name he’d be hearing all night, but never the way she’d just yelled it. Well, how could he just leave her at that? He glanced at his watch – he still had time. Turning, he walked all the way back – but he didn’t stop at that. Gathering her face in his hands, Killian kissed first her forehead, and then her hair; “Silly girl. You think I don’t already know that?” Ashlinn placed her hands over his – running her fingertips gently over his cybernetics – that part of the conversation far from forgotten. And let him gently release her, not letting his fingertips part from hers until they absolutely had to – smile beaming, and eyes full of adoration. Killian was never sure he really deserved either – but what else did he have these days?

His walk away from her this time was slower, and he once again paused at the door, locking those blue eyes on her with an intense stare; “I mean it! Get some rest it’s a big day tomorrow!” Then he disappeared, knowing that he now certainly was running late. But Ashlinn couldn’t resist one more call back; “I know! I hope you’ve brushed up on your Japanese!” And the last thing she heard was his laugh echoing down the hallway as he made his way to the helipad. She ran a hand over KiTT, who beeped at her affectionately, and she smiled, biting her lips together and then running her fingers over them as his kiss lingered with her just a little longer. “Okay, KiTT… where were we?”

---

...Soooo... we almost got a Netflix and Chill moment there. Dammit Killian, who cares about the damn party-!?

Ashlinn probably has a voice kink, size kink, and likely a cybernetics kink too... 🤔

I hope this comparison is Original - and I’m taking credit! But I was watching and suddenly it all clicked

Thank you for reading 💜💙

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springday-aus · 5 years ago

Text

Chef!AU with Jaehyun [Yoon Oh]

moodboard link

Group: NCT

Member: Jung Jaehyun

Genre: fluff, romance

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: 1.5k

Jaehyun is a chef, right?

but like this man out here is serving both food AND looks

……….…. but not really

seriously though, ask any customer of his and you can bet that they’ll all admit to staring at Jaehyun at least once while they were in his restaurant

but like who wouldn’t

don’t lie to yourself

tbh, his food is actually really good though so his visuals are just a bonus

anyways…….. moving on

he’s the main chef and co-owner (along with sous chef!Doyoung) of a traditional Korean restaurant

it really suits him because he loves Korean food--whether he’s eating it or making it

(refer to nct life kfood challenge)

cute backstory: he’s been cooking with his grandma since high school and when he enrolled into culinary school, he wanted to share her food by opening a restaurant based on her recipes

just imagine: freshman!Jaehyun in a cute little apron with a frying pan in his hands

he has a bad habit of not eating his own cooking—even though Jaehyun insists that it’s because he likes seeing other people enjoy his food so much

obviously he would taste-test but then the rest of it would just end up going to one of the nct members somehow lol

speaking of nct, they spend a lot of money at Jaehyun’s restaurant—90% of all of their meals are made by Jaehyun (the rest are made by Doyoung lmao)

the thing is though, nct get more than half off on their meals because groups of handsome boys drum up a lot of business

Johnny probably: “we’re basically unpaid models, where’s my compensation?”

Jaehyun: “do you wanna pay the full price?”

other than Doyoung, Jaehyun doesn’t let anyone near his kitchen

he let Mark try to fry eggs once and he died a little on the inside

Mark: “the egg is stuck”

Jaehyun: “and that’s what happens when you don’t oil the pan”

Donghyuk somewhere: “how are you still alive??”

Jaehyun tries to avoid shopping as much as possible because he always somehow ends up buying cooking utensils

he needed to buy some new pants and then came back with like three new pots

so how did you and this gorgeous specimen meet?

your friend actually recommended his restaurant to you

“I heard that the cook is hot and the food is good, why not go see?”

when y’all first stepped in, there was a homey atmosphere present, despite how crowded it was

the restaurant was decorated quite nicely—from the walls to the furniture

but the first thing you noticed was most definitely the smell

you were easily drawn to it—and, seeing the actual plates being served on the table, you couldn’t wait to actually try it

all the food was so beautifully plated with all of the colors popping out

each meal looked interesting in their own way

from the platting alone, you could tell the dude really knew what he was doing

but then when you took your first bite—wOW

each ingredient really complemented the other and it was proved through the taste

next thing you knew

it was gone and your plate was CLEAN

one meal there and you just kept coming back every other week

your wallet is crying but on the bright side your stomach is happy

and of course Jaehyun’s noticed how often you come in

you look so happy whenever you eat his food….. it’s….. cute...

at first, you came with other friends

but each eventually began to tease you about how frequently you went there

“you’re such a good partner, supporting your boyfriend’s business”

“sHUT IT”

you slowly started to go on your own and even getting take out when you couldn’t come in

out of (what Jaehyun calls) appreciation, he started to give you some additional side dishes

he’d put them in your bag and if you would come in, he’d personally serve them to you

you, at some point: “oh no, you don’t have to!!!”

Jaehyun: “it’s the least I can do for you coming in so often” **smiles in angel**

cue every customer glaring at you

server!Jisung: “bro, this isn’t how you get someone’s attention”

Jaehyun, trying to hide his red ears: “I…. I’m just thanking them….”

Doyoung: “keep telling yourself that”

this continued for a couple of months--you’ve even made some friends with the nct group

(you can bet that Doyoung and Kun nag more than your actual parents)

it wasn’t until three full months until either of you made a move

basically, you owed a friend a favor and now you were on a blind date……… at Jaehyun’s restaurant……………..

I mean, you come in with other people all the time

but……. this time you were neatly dressed rather than your casual wear

your hair and makeup was done too…….

and it wasn’t just Jaehyun that noticed, everyone who was working that night definitely knew you were dressed to impress

you were kind of nervous because it had been awhile when you were on a proper date

but after waiting for 30 minutes, you were just tired

eventually, your date did send a text to you, officially canceling—something about feeling sick and making it up to you later

so in the end, you ate by yourself—it’s not that you were super upset

it’s just that getting stood up isn’t the greatest feeling

Jaehyun, Doyoung and the rest of the staff didn’t know what exactly happened, but they all kind of figured it out

they served you, as normal, chatting in between to check if you were okay and, as the entree came out, Jaehyun came out to serve the additional side dishes

however, instead of just putting them down, he sat in the chair in front of you

“do you mind ... if I join you…?”

“uM…. no, I don’t mind…..”

there was a small silence before Jaehyun spoke up

“I’m sorry… about your date”

you sat up a bit straighter, avoiding eye contact and feeling slightly embarrassed about the situation, “it’s fine, it’s not like it was your fault”

“still,” he pauses, “they… missed out on a great date”

he makes eye contact with you with apparent blush coloring his cheeks you cleared your throat, “..... are you saying that because we’re in your restaurant?”

he laughs and you swear it is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard

“kind of, but there are more creative dates than just dinner”

“... like what?”

he simply grins at you, “if you gave me some time, I could show you”

ugh, and his smile is even prettier up close

luckily for you, he was thinking just the same

after that, you two just…. clicked

and he did fulfill his promise to you—for your first date, y’all went for a little drive out and had a picnic under the stars, talking about everything and anything

y’all also go on dinner dates, but like, it’s an adventure because they’re all restaurants neither of y’all have been to

(awhile back, you two went out for Ukranian food and you found out how much Jaehyun can really eat)

obviously, you have more than just food dates, but…. what did you expect from a chef?

Doyoung: “how much money do you two spend on dates?”

you: “... let’s not talk about that rn…”

speaking of money, you don’t have to pay for Jaehyun’s meals anymore

in fact, he makes food for you nearly everyday lmao

Jaehyun: “just think of it as your boyfriend making you lunch” ^^

he’s just making sure you’re well-fed, healthy and happy

anYwAYS

other than a lot of food, you also get a lot of forehead kisses—idk why but he pins me as a forehead kiss kind of a dude

even when you get pass that shy honeymoon phase, he’d probably still do it often as a goodbye or something

omg, when he gets more comfortable, he definitely will find any and all opportunities to backhug or cuddle you

he’s just a soft man in love and, when he looks at you, he just melts and when you compliment him, he suddenly doesn’t know what words are

“you’re literally so handsome what the hell”

“.. stOP...” (he doesn’t want you to stop)

don’t be fooled by that face though, because he knows what he’s doing but he also doesn’t know what he’s doing

when y’all were at his place, it was just you two on the couch with a rom-com playing

next thing you knew, things escalated and those soft ass lips on your neck with his hands underneath your shirt

but, like not even two seconds later, his head is buried in your neck and he can’t make eye contact with you because he’s emBARASSED

basically dating chef!Jaehyun means lots of food and skinship—but also lots of support from both ends because y’all just really want the best for each other

Jaehyun: watching you eat with a smile on his face

you: “what?”

Jaehyun: “nothing, I just love you” (◠‿◠✿)

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atinykidult · 4 years ago

Note

LIZ I NEED A PLACE TO RANT OH MY GOD that ATEEZ TEASER MADE A TOTAL OF 0 AMOUNTS OF SNESE it’s 3:09 aM AND i’m LYING IN BED THINKING WHAT DID I JUST WATCH ok i do not recommend watching this at 2am in the DARK because wow it is lowkey horror with the background instrumentals and THE VOICEOIVER CJSBCJDBFHDHCB their voices are IN UR EAAAARRRSSSSS jenfnsbfjsjd very asmr seonghwa would be proud———but wow that was one HECK of a teaser i’ve never seen anything like this before :(():);):$;:)

(This is long, so I’m putting a keep reading haha to anyone curious, below is screaming over Ateez’s new teaser)

when you watch it WHENU WAKE UP please do let me know what you think about it because i am simply just beyond shook LIKE WHat is 5:07??? WHY DID THAT HAPPEN TO YUNHO??? SAN??? POOR MINGI?? i’m trying to express my frustrations without leaking anything that actually happened in the teaser because i don’t wanna spoil it for you HAHAHAHAH ALSO I NEVER RESPONDED TO YOUR ASK i am v v sorry i will do it here: you asked me hoping that my day got better than my avocado paste and in fact it did!!!!!!!

i did a lot of fic inspiration and i found an amazing 3 pic moodboard that would fit with my fic when i finish up tomorrow/ the day after?? i’m really really excited because one of my friends is coming over tomorrow for dinner and it’s been a whole month since i last saw her due to covid :’)))))) but YES!!! thank you so so much for listening to me rAnt and i’m sorry for plugging up your inbox!! i hope everything has been good for you? make sure to let me know if anything interesting happens!

i do have a qotd for you: AFTER YOU WATCH THE ATEEZ TEASER, which ateez member’s situation would you rather be in and why?? i’ll say san for me, but i’ll give you the reason why afterwards :)))) so no spoilers!! i love u very very much and i do hope that your day is not avocado paste, but instead freshly toasted bread that makes the best crush when you bite into it, but is still soft on the inside 🤧🤧🤧💓💓💕💕💞💞❤️💘💖💝💝💗 sending you FOREVER LOVE (and once again i’m sorry i sent 4 asks) :0

I’M SO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE 😭 I hope you enjoyed whatever you’re up to as I’m writing this!!! Make sure to get enough sleep and hydrate! 💞💞

BUT!!!! THAT HONESTLY SOUNDS LIKE SUCH AN EXPERIENCE!!!!!! THE VOICE-OVERS HAVE SUCH A GOOD RECORDING QUALITY—IT WOULD BE MAGICAL!!!!!!!

According to Google: “Angel number 507 is a message for us to seek wholeness, independence and advancement. It also denotes freedom from limitation, and the possibility of promotion. Number meaning 507 adds vibrations of spiritual awakening, inner knowing and good fortune.”

BUT I’M JUST SO SHOOK FROM IT OVERALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT WAS A CINEMATOGRAPHIC MASTERPIECE, AND I’M TRASH FOR GOLDEN SHOTS LIKE WERE IN THERE LEFT AND RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THE MUSIC WAS AMAZING AND THEY DID SO WELL ACTING AND THE QUALITY WAS AMAZING AND AND AND

Vivi, I love hearing your thoughts more than you can know!!! Honestly, it’s the best feeling in the world to get to hear your reactions, and what you’re thinking, and what you’re going through!! <3

Also, thank you for thinking of not spoiling it for me; it’s so sweet and thoughtful!!!

Tbh all their positions sound horrible, and if there’s multiple universes than they’re all cut off from each other anyway?? So, yeah, all bad options? But probably Wooyoung’s bc the major thing seemed to be that his dance place got locked up? In which case, I think there’s the best chance for him to get everything back together to where it was. I might have misunderstood it though. >.>

Anyway! This is a monster of a reply and i’m so sorry. Most of it is screaming (belatedly with you) so I guess the major points for conversation are: Why did you pick San’s? And how was your day? ^^ (I love you so much, Vivi!!!)

#vivi #vivi making me soft 🥺🥺🥺#jello buddies #asks

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xmxisxforxmaybe · 6 years ago

Text

Inconsequentials

Moodboard Credit: @alottanothing

Summary: You’ve lived in New York City for a few years and were one of Angela’s roommates in college. You bump into Elliot on the night of Angela’s birthday party, and you and Elliot connect. Smut’s at the end.

Warnings: Smut

* * * * *

The noise of the bar is too much; it isn’t the competition between the music and the televisions, or the cacophony of alerts on cellphones that people couldn’t bother to silence for one night.

It is the loud conversation, or rather, attempts at conversation. The too-loud small talk with people You only vaguely knows and honestly doesn’t care to know. The endless cycle of too-loud questions: “Hey! Good to see you! What have you been up to?” and “Are you seeing anyone?” and “How are you?” and “What’s new?”

Unable to bear another hour, you make your goodbye to your old roommate, citing an early morning meeting as an excuse, and then quickly exit through the door of the bar, hoping to slink unaccosted by anyone else into the city’s quiet nighttime.

However, the solid body you collide into as you round off the stoop makes your quick exit come to a pretty damn obvious halt.

“Shit! I’m so sor—"

Your words escape you as your eyes lock onto the most ethereal eyes you’ve ever seen. You think, for an instant, that if you got close enough to them it would be like that final scene in one of the Men in Black movies where doors keep opening and opening and opening just to show us how insignificant our understanding of the universe really is.

You realize that you’re standing there, open-mouthed, like an idiot and quickly take a step back before beginning your apology again.

“Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay.”

Jesus. Fuck me up and drive me crazy. Even his voice is otherworldly.

“I must say, though, that’s not the safest place to stand considering the endless parade of just too much to drink that walks out of this place.”

The man looks at you and you can feel his mind working, feel his tenseness over whether or not to talk. You almost begin to apologize, again, when he speaks.

“I’m supposed to be in there. It’s my friend’s birthday.”

“You know Angela?”

His eyes widen, although it seems impossible that they could get any larger.

“You know Angela?” He echoes and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I do believe I asked you first,” you say through a grin.

He smiles, just a quick blink and you’ll miss it quirk of the lips, but you definitely categorize it as a smile.

“We’ve been friends since we were kids. And we work together now.”

“You’re Elliot,” you state with a finality that surprises him. “I went to college with Angela and we shared an apartment with two other girls, Jess and Annamarie—actually, both of them are still inside, and you know how it is. Late night talks. Shared childhood stories. I have an odd affinity for remembering inconsequential details. Not that you as a person are inconsequential!”

Fuck. You’re babbling like an idiot, and sort of shocked that this almost-stranger could make you so school-girl nervous.

Elliot did that almost smile thing again and seemed sort of surprised at his own response.

“Aren’t we all inconsequential, though? Swallowed up by the people we answer to? Or by society’s expectations and our inability to meet them?”

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he seems paralyzed, like he can’t believe he said them out loud.

“Shit. I didn’t mean to say—"

“Sure you did. But I suppose it has something to do with you not wanting to go in there? Maybe worried that you’ll feel weird because you don’t know anyone other than her?”

Elliot watches as you tilt your head to the side just a bit and finish simply by saying, “Or maybe you just hate people?”

Elliot turns to look inside giving you an opportunity to look at him properly. He’s head to toe in black, a worn hoodie clinging to his thin frame. His shoes are scuffed, also worn, but you can’t help but to let your eyes wander up his denim clad legs and to his ass, outlined nicely enough in the tight pants.

And that face. You could look at that face forever, like a piece of art that has layers and layers of depth. How many times do you meet a person in real life with a face like that?

Elliot sighs and turns back to you, your eyes snapping up to his.

“You’re not missing anything. Unless you enjoy watching Angela’s latest terrible choice in men cling to her like she’s a life preserver and he’s drowning.”

Your comment earns a snort of derision from Elliot.

Emboldened by his response and the fact that he has made no move to go inside the bar, you ask, “Instead of going in there, do you want to maybe go somewhere else? Engage in some horrific small talk until we get to the good stuff?”

“Okay.”

One definitely awkward, mostly silent ten-minute train ride and an equally awkward and mostly silent block and a half of walking later, you are at your favorite dive bar. It is in an old building that should’ve been torn down a decade ago but escaped the clutches of modernization. Stale cigarette smoke still clung to the walls even though smoking was banned inside years ago. Despite the aged odors and decor, it was clean and quiet, full of regulars who also wanted to hold onto the past, desperate to have a place to just watch the outdated TV above the bar and talk with people like themselves, desperate for a time before Snapchat and Facebook and the stale conversations of the superficial, of people who only pretend to know you because they only really know your profile and your posts.

No one pays any attention to you and Elliot as they walk in and head to one of the booths in the back. You slide in and shuck off your coat as Elliot pulls back his hood, his hands running through his hair quickly.

You wet your lips at the sight of his face without any barrier and at the practiced way his hands fix his hair.

He’s beautiful.

And what an idiot you feel like as you think it, but wow. You make a mental note that despite the worn hoodie and boots, he must know he looks decently good if he visits a barber regularly enough to get a high maintenance haircut like that. Elliot was shaping up to be a true enigma.

“What do you want to drink? My treat,” you say through a quick smile.

“I’ll have whatever you have.”

You slip out of the booth, and when you place the order, you make sure to lean just a bit into the bar as you wait in order to show off your ass.

When the bartender returns, you ask, “Sammy—is he looking? Did he check out my ass?”

Sammy chuckles and leans in to whisper, “Oh, yeah. Didn’t even try to do it discreetly.”

“Interesting,” you reply. “I’m not quite sure what to make of him, but that helps a bit.”

“I’ll keep an eye on you, babe.”

You chuckle, pay, and say your thanks.

“Coors Light. Bottled. I’m pretty much as basic as they come.”

Elliot sort-of smiles, lifts his bottle to his mouth and takes a long drink.

“So, back to the whole idea of the inconsequentialness of humanity—what makes you believe that?

Elliot shakes his head and starts to backpedal, but you push him.

“Don’t tell me you blurt out dark truths about humanity but don’t mean them. Don’t be that guy.”

“Most people don’t want to hear the things that I keep in my head. I’m not sure you really understand what you’re asking.”

You raise an eyebrow, a little annoyed at his reluctance.

“I assure you . . . I can handle it. I taught high school for a few years before I got my current gig in the city. If anyone can understand cynicism, it’s a teacher.”

Elliot leans forward, his fingers lightly tapping against the sweating bottle.

“Why’d you stop? Teaching, I mean. Isn’t it supposed to be . . . rewarding?”

You genuinely laugh and it is loud enough and strong enough to make Elliot blink in surprise.

“Christ. Those moments are so few and far between the chaos of putting out everyday fires that after a while, it just isn’t enough. The bad outweighs the good. And I knew I didn’t belong in front of those kids once I felt like that. Now, I work for a mid-size company writing and editing technical manuals and working on grants to get more funding so they can expand. I’m just an inconsequential buried in work by the people who are hoping to become people rich enough to run the world.”

Elliot is quiet for a minute or so, most likely processing everything you unloaded.

After another drink, he says, “I work at Allsafe. It’s…it’s a cybersecurity firm. We protect companies from cyber attacks. We protect those big companies that are actually rich enough to run the world.”

You roll your eyes and nod in agreement. “It seems like the more I read, the more depressed I get because those companies just eat up everything. Consumerism, I guess? As long as there is something they can convince people to buy, they will continue to take people’s money and they will continue to be richer than god.”

Elliot studies you as he finishes off his beer.

“My turn,” he mumbles as he grabs your empty bottle and heads to the bar.

Conversation becomes easier; while you definitely are the one talking the most, Elliot does relax and stops looking so shocked every time he shares something with you.

At the end of the night, and after you’ve both developed a good buzz, you slide out of the booth. You give Sammy a smile and a wave to let him know you think the man in black is alright after all and the two of you head back toward the subway. As you walk, your shoulder brushes Elliot’s, ever so slightly.

“I’m really glad I quite literally ran into you,” you say, sneaking a sideways glance as the two of you jog down the stairs.

Elliot’s hands are buried in his hoodie pockets and you can just make out the small smile that crosses his lips.

“Me, too.”

“Text me sometime?” you ask as you hand Elliot your phone.

You watch as he enters his number, his fingers moving almost faster than your eyes can register, especially due to your tipsiness. He hands your phone back and you let out a huff of a laugh as you see he’s already texted himself. A simple, “Hi.”

Your train arrives at that moment and you give Elliot a small wave as he watches you step through the doors. You take a seat and turn to look out of the window, meeting his eyes once again. As soon as the train pulls away, your phone vibrates and you grin.

It’s stupid, really, to feel so happy. All he’s sent is a simple message: Goodnight : )

* * * * * * *

Over the next three weeks, you and Elliot text a lot, meet up for coffee twice, and then decide to go for drinks at your bar again. The night progresses in a similar fashion to their first night together, but this time, when Elliot walks you to your train, you ask him if he wants to come over.

“I don’t think I’m ready for the night to end this time,” you confess as you look up at Elliot, running your hand through your hair and biting your bottom lip.

“Okay,” he says in more of a rumble than an actual word.

The train ride seems to take twice as long as usual. You sit close together but not quite touching; you’re just close enough to feel the presence of him, to feel the heat of him, and to breathe him in. You desperately want to lean into him, to rest your hand on his thigh, but you know that touching is something of a struggle for him. It’s going to be up to Elliot to cross that line.

It is a short walk from the subway to your apartment. You live in a decent enough neighborhood where people mind their own business but are still friendly enough to hold a door open for one another.

As soon as you’re inside, Elliot busies himself by moving around your space, his eyes searching everything and nothing at the same time. It is a small studio apartment so it’s pretty easy to take everything in. You were lucky enough to find a studio with a loft, so the bedroom isn’t currently staring obscenely at the two of them, reminding you of the line that you so desperately want Elliot to cross.

You take off your jacket and your shoes, happy to finally be barefoot. You go to the fridge and grab a bottle of water for lack of anything else to do while Elliot finishes his inventory of your stuff. Seemingly satisfied, he takes a seat at the barstool on the other side of your kitchen counter, which doubles as a table. He still has his hands stuffed in his hoodie and the hood is up. You’re eyes inadvertently flick to the hood, and he reaches up to take it down, mussing through his hair in that same way that makes your lick your lips every damn time. God, how you want to be the one who fixes his hair when he takes that fucking hood down.

“I really like you. These past few weeks have been nice—having someone to talk to,” you say as you twirl your water between your fingers.

“I’m not very good at this,” Elliot says in a too-loud blunt voice as he looks away, a slight blush coloring his cheeks.

You laugh softly but stop the instant you see Elliot’s hands twitch up, as if he’s about to pull on his hoodie again.

You move quickly around the counter and reach out, your hand barely resting on his covered arm.

“I mean, who is if they really like someone? It’s always weird when you’re deciding whether or not to cross that line.”

Elliot turns those eyes on you, large and dark in the dim lighting of your apartment, and full of vulnerability. He presses his lips together and takes a deep breath. You’re pretty sure you can hear his heart beating, but then again, maybe it’s yours?

He turns his body toward you and skims his fingers, light as feathers over your arm before grasping just above your elbow. Your eyes are locked on Elliot’s as you step between his legs, closing the last bit of distance. He looks up at you and uses his other hand to grasp your chin and pull you toward his mouth.

Your first kiss is soft, hesitant. Your lips ghost against his as you slowly open your mouth more and more until he is the one to slide his tongue past your lips. You don’t mean to, but you let out the tiniest groan of pleasure as you open your mouth wider to his explorations and begin to return the kiss. The heat between the two of you is such a mixture of chemical wantonness and desperate urgency not be alone that it’s amazing neither of you combust.

Elliot’s hand slides from your chin to your hair and you’re gripping his thigh so tightly as you lean into him that you’re sure it hurts. But if anything, he’s opening up for you, sensing in you the same feelings of loneliness he has buried within himself.

You move your hand from Elliot’s thigh and from the back of the barstool to place both in his hair. You’ve been desperate to touch that black mess since the first night you saw him remove his hood and fix it himself. His hair is thicker than you expect, but so soft and when you dig your fingers into his scalp and move impossibly close to his body, he moans.

You pull his head back to angle his gorgeous jaw to your lips. You kiss his chin, moving your lips slowly and softly along his jawline, peppering it with sweet kisses until you reach his earlobe. You close your teeth over it before kissing just underneath his ear.

Elliot’s hands have moved to your hips and he’s gripping them almost as ferociously as you gripped his thigh.

You pull back and look at each other, searching each other’s faces for any sign of leftover hesitation. He looks so sexy with his lips just a little raw from kissing, shining with saliva and still slightly parted.

“Upstairs?”

Elliot nods and takes your hand as you extend it to him, trailing just behind you as you walk up to the loft.

“Are you looking at my ass?”

Elliot laughs, a sweet, short burst of noise that you want to memorize in case it never happens again.

“That’s how I knew you liked me that first night,” you explains as you reach the top of the stairs and turn to face him. “I asked Sammy if you looked.”

Elliot smiles as he answers, “You have a great ass.”

You laugh at his frank reply, and he pulls you into him. He kisses you until you need to pull away to breath and that’s when you knows it’s good—that he’s crossing the line and that it’s a good, good thing.

He reaches around to grip your ass through your jeans and you grasp his shoulders. He pushes your hips into his and you can feel how hard he is already.

“Way too many clothes,” you mumble into his neck.

He steps back and unzips his hoodie, shrugging out of it, the clang of the zipper hitting the floor making the reality of what’s about to happen all the more intense. You pull your top over your head and let it fall from your fingertips. His eyes are taking you in and you enjoy the heat his gaze brings to your core. You reach up and unhook your bra, Elliot’s eyes watching the front clasp spring apart. He steps forward and slides the straps from your shoulders. He reaches out to cup your breasts, his thumbs sliding over your hard nipples. He pulls gently at them, watching your face instead of your body. Your eyes slide shut and you groan at the motion, and he does it again before he trails his knuckles over your stomach and grasps the front of your jeans. He pulls you into his body, encapsulating your lips in a heated kiss as his hands travel over your back, into your hair, and back to grip your ass again.

You need to feel his skin against yours, so you reach down to pull his t-shirt over his head. You immediately move to kiss the smattering of freckles across his shoulders, your mouth leaving hot kisses from shoulder to shoulder, stopping in the middle to lick at the base of his neck. His body is hot and tight and your fingers are in love with the feel of him.

You trail kisses down his chest, tweaking his nipples in a motion that mirrored how he had touched yours. Elliot groans and his head drops back as his eyes close. Once you’re on your knees, you pop the button on his jeans and his head snaps back to attention, watching you with those goddamn eyes. You look up as you palm his hard cock through his jeans and he moves your hands out of the way so he can unzip and open his pants, inviting you to touch him.

You pull his jeans down and off, tugging off his black socks as well. You know you shouldn’t, but you chuckle, low in your throat.

“My god, you really are the man in black.”

Elliot shrugs his shoulders in response and you smile as you pull his boxer briefs over his erection and down his legs. He steps out of them and you look up and raise your brow.

“Impressive.”

Elliot doesn’t have time to debate with himself on a reply because your mouth is surrounding that impressive length, your tongue cradling his cock as you take in the taste of him. You suck, hollowing your cheeks as you grip his hips to keep him steady. You alternate between slow, torturing licks and engulfing him in the heat of your mouth until his hands grip yours, signaling you to stop. You give a final lick to the tip, enjoying the saltiness of his precum.

He holds his hands out to help your stand back up, and as soon as you have your footing, Elliot’s pushing you toward the bed. You lie back stretching, teasing him as he looks at your body. He reaches down to open the button on your jeans and unzips them, tugging them off of your legs. Elliot traces his fingers up your legs, pushing them apart. He runs his thumb over your still-under-wear-clad center. He presses on your clit, gently testing your arousal.

You moan and push yourself into his touch. You don’t care if you sound needy.

You continue to watch Elliot as he lightly fingers over everything but your clit, and you’re just about to beg as he slides his finger into your underwear and lightly grazes your core. He brings that finger to his lips and slides it into his mouth, closing his eyes at the taste.

“Jesus Christ, El. You’re killing me,” you pant.

He smirks, just a quick twitch of his lips.

“I like when you call me that,” he begins as he reaches up to slide your underwear off.

“But I think I want to hear you scream it,” he finishes as he closes his lips over your clit and sucks.

“Fuck! Elliot, El, oh, fuck!”

Your body is trembling with its need to orgasm and you’re pretty sure that Elliot’s lips are built for the sole purpose of making your come, but you want the first time you come with him to be while he’s inside of you.

You wiggle away from his face, and he looks up, his lips glistening, his brows furrowing until he sees what you grabbed out of the nightstand’s drawer.

“I want you in me when I come,” you say, tearing the foil packet open, probably looking a little more like an animal than a seductress but so desperate to feel his cock inside of you that you don’t even fucking care.

However you looked, it worked for Elliot. His eyes are blown wide and so dark with arousal. He shudders as you push the condom over him, not even giving him time to process the sensation as you pull him by the base of his cock toward you.

He doesn’t hesitate to slide into your soaking center, both of you moaning at the feeling of him finally inside of you. You tighten your thighs around him and hold him still, relishing in this sensation that only happens once in every relationship; the first time he sinks into you, the first time you experience what it’s like to be sated by this person you’ve allowed to cross the line is a true moment of intimacy that is only ever experienced once in every relationship. Each subsequent time just attempts to chase the high of that very first time.

You eventually loosen your grip, allowing your body to respond naturally to his. Elliot is slow, methodical, at first. Beads of sweat are forming at his temples and he looks so lost in the feeling of your body, lost, but at peace, like everything in his head is finally quiet.

He fucks you at that excruciatingly slow pace until you beg him to go faster, harder.

“Please, El. Need you. Need you so much.”

Elliot’s hips begin to rock into you, your hips rising to meet his until you create a perfect rhythm. You can tell he’s getting close from the red blush that creeps across his chest and the slight faltering in his pace. He changes his angle so he can watch you as he rubs your still swollen clit, your hands reaching up to grip the headboard as he slams into you.

“Oh, god Elliot!”

You cry out as your orgasm finally shocks its way through your body leaving you a trembling mess as Elliot stills himself in you and comes with a groan that sounds a whole lot like your name.

He falls half on top of you, careful not to crush you, but you can feel his heart pounding, echoing your own heart’s strong beats. His breathing is deep, but slowly returns to a steady pace. You have your arm flung across your eyes, still steadying your own breathing as you feel his weight shift as he gets out of bed.

Elliot hisses just a bit as he pulls the condom off. The silence is long and awkward enough for you to remove your arm and look over at him, standing adorably in a state of confusion as his eyes dart around the room. You giggle as you realizes he’s looking for the trash can.

“Shit—sorry!” You slide over and open the front panel of your nightstand to reveal a trashcan inside.

He tosses it in the bin and quirks his head at you stating, “You’re very. . . clean. I mean, like, organized.”

“One of my idiosyncrasies. Why? Are you a slob?”

“Uhhh. . .”

“Alright. So, next time, we go to your place and maybe we clean instead of doing this?”

“Was I really that bad?”

You laugh and hold the sheet up, inviting him back into bed.

Elliot slides in and lays his body half over yours. You slide your hands up his smooth back and he dips down to kiss you.

“You know that was amazing,” you say softly.

And you think to yourself that you could get really used to the feeling of Elliot’s lips quirking into a smile as he kisses your neck.

* * * * *

Note: I’ve wanted to write Elliot for a while, but I’ve never been confident with my characterization of him. I guess I just want happy Elliot too much, so sorry if I’ve mucked it up.

Also, the line, “Fuck me up and drive me crazy” is stolen from the Lil Peep song, “I’ve Been Waiting.”

#elliot alderson #elliot alderson x reader #female reader #elliot x reader #elliot alderson smut #rami malek #mr robot #elliot alderson imagine #elliot alderson fanfic #rami malek imagine

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the-mad-starker · 6 years ago

Text

Starker Fic: High School Sweethearts AU

For @lostpuppy666, based on this post about inexperienced Tony. (Sorry I took so long 😭)

This turned into a WHOLE FIC. With crushes and getting together... And I made a moodboard because procrastination....

I mean, I hope you guys enjoy? But I'm wondering why I can never write straight up smut at the point lol possibly more at a later point cause I really wanted to write Tony being shameless and dirty talking. Also wanted to write about Tony giving his first BJ 😩

Length: 3.3k

Notes: crushes, tutor!Peter, flirty but inexperienced Tony, high school au, frottage

💗💗💗

Peter slipped out of Mr. Banner's office and barely staved off the desire to knock his head against the wall.

Tony Stark.

Local celebrity. The richest kid in school. Shameless flirt.

And he was Peter's newest student in the tutoring program.

Peter really really didn't want to tutor Stark but more than that, he didn't want to disappoint Mr. Banner. He had a free period which he should've been using to study, but he also knew that Tony should've been in class.

Instead, Peter knew the other boy was skipping and after getting a tip from some students, he knew just where to find him.

He tried to hold onto his exasperation, tried to remain annoyed with the other teen. They've barely said any words since they were in two different circles. And yet when he spotted Tony Stark, he couldn't help but stop dead in his tracks.

God. This was why Peter really didn't want to tutor Tony Stark. It wasn't because Stark was a crazy flirt or that he didn't take anything seriously.

It was because somehow Peter had a crush on the other teen and it was bigger than the entire state of New York.

Peter didn't even know why he liked Tony he just… did. He always felt flustered with Stark in the same room, always stammered more than usual in the same classes. It was embarrassing and mortifying and he'd already gotten one or two suspicious looks from Ned about it.

Maybe it was Tony's cocky attitude or just how adorable he looked with that infuriating smirk. Either way, Peter's mind and body were traitors for finding Stark so attractive.

Even now, as Peter stood at the back of the bleachers, he couldn't help staring. The other boy was sprawled on his back, head cushioned by his varsity jacket. His backpack was propping up his feet where he had his ankles crossed. And because the science gods were merciless, there was a sliver of tanned skin on display where his tee shirt had ridden up.

He just looked so relaxed and comfortable somehow, snoozing beneath the bleachers when he should've been in class. It was envious almost.

“Pictures last longer,” Tony said without even opening an eye. “They also don't block out the sun.”

“You're skipping,” Peter said bluntly before sidestepping out of the sun's way.

With the sound of his voice, the other teen finally opened an eye. His stupid kissable lips stretched into a wide smile.

“Parker,” he greeted like they were old friends. “I wasn't expecting you.”

In a single fluid motion, Tony pushed himself into a sitting position. He looked up at Peter with a lazy smile.

“Have a seat,” he said, patting the ground beside him.

Peter eyed the spot but declined with a shake of his head. “I'm good, actually. I just came to find you since you weren't in your normal class.”

From his pocket, he withdrew the letter Mr. Banner wrote about their new arrangements. Tony stared at it for a moment before taking it. His eyes darted over the words, brows narrowing as he found out the news.

“I don't need a tutor,” Tony scoffed when he finished.

“Apparently, you do,” Peter argued.

“I really don't,” Tony fired back just to be asinine.

“You– Oh God, I'm not arguing with you,” Peter shook his head. “Talk about it with Mr. Banner if you really don't want me to tutor you.”

“Wait– You're the tutor?” Tony sounded pleasantly surprised and Peter looked away, feeling his face flush a bit. He wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing, the way Tony had said it.

“Well, yeah,” Peter answered, “Why else would I hunt you down?”

“Thought maybe you were just the delivery boy,” Tony said absentmindedly.

When Peter glanced at him, the other teen had a curious look in his eye. It made Peter flush even more which was infuriating since he wasn't even sure why he was blushing.

“I’m sure Mr. Banner will at least hear you out,” Peter said, “Or maybe if you stop skipping his class…”

“I'll do it,” Tony said simply.

“Do… it?”

“The tutoring thing,” he said with a grin. The way he looked at Peter… Was he being flirty? There was a sudden influx of butterflies in Peter's stomach and the boy shifted from foot to foot, uncertain.

“Oh... That's great,” Peter decided to say. He was relieved that he didn't have to keep arguing with Tony but now he felt off balance. “Okay… Cool.”

Needless to say, he did the next best thing on his mind for this situation and… ran.

Maybe it wasn't the best thing but the way Tony was looking at him, all pleased like he actually didn't mind spending time with Peter… That couldn't have been real. That had to have been Peter's Massive Crush seeing something there that wasn't actually there.

Except… Maybe it wasn't...

Peter got himself together. He had no choice because their tutoring sessions were twice a week in the school library.

As he expected, Tony was a shameless flirt. But for some reason, seeing and experiencing it made handling his crush easier.

Because if Tony was a shameless flirt to any and everyone, that meant that he wasn't personally antagonizing Peter for having a crush on him. Maybe the other boy didn't even know, though Peter was learning that Stark was a lot more observant and smarter than anyone gave him credit for.

He still skipped classes, but during their sessions, Tony looked at the theories and problems for their assignments and never seemed to struggle understanding them. It was only after they got into a pretty deep conversation about thermodynamics that Peter realized– Anthony Stark might actually be a genius.

Or a really convincing fake.

Either way, Peter found that their sessions grew less structured. It… almost felt like hanging out with Ned, just joking around and talking. Having fun. Except Peter didn't have a huge crush on Ned and he often found himself mesmerized by Tony's… everything.

His face. His eyes. His lips. God, his lips… The other teen was such a talker but Peter found himself invested no matter the subject. Tony could be reciting his next grocery shopping list, and Peter would listen like it held the secrets of the universe.

Maybe Peter wasn't all too put together when it came to Tony Stark. He convinced himself that it was fine. A harmless crush. It hurt that nothing would come out of it but he and Tony were becoming really good friends.

Maybe that was enough.

Of course, one thing Peter learned about Tony was that the other boy was unpredictable. It was fun to watch him talk circles around people. He just didn't think that Tony would use it against him.

It was a regular Tuesday. Library again but they were goofing off instead of studying. Tony was in a rather passionate rant about– something. Peter, guiltily, wasn't paying attention cause he was mesmerized by the way Tony's hands were passionately gesticulating.

“–energy costs would be reduced by half. But no,” Tony complained with a huff, “People want to argue about– Hey. Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah,” Peter perked up in response. He felt heat crawl up his neck, a telltale sign that he knew Tony noticed.

The other boy's eyes narrowed and then he leaned forward, locking gazes with Peter. Peter's eyes widened but he didn't leap back, just felt those infuriating butterflies dancing around in his stomach.

Tony nodded, satisfied at what he saw.

“You should let me kiss you,” Tony said suddenly.

“What?” Peter almost exclaimed, only then rearing back.

He glanced around the library, just as an excuse to avoid looking Tony in the eye. Of course, besides the teacher at the front, they were alone.

“Why would I do that,” Peter muttered, blushing fiercely. Was it time to leave already? He closed the textbook that neither of them was using, intent on running once more.

But then, Tony placed his hand on top of Peter's, stopping the teen from escaping. Peter stared at their hands then slowly looked up. His heart was pounding in his chest but there was a rare expression on Tony's face. In the past few weeks, he's never seen Tony look so genuinely serious.

“Well,” Tony said, “If you said yes, my chances of you accepting a date with me would be… great. But if you said no, then I guess I really am dumb and was reading the signs wrong…”

Then a small, soft smile tugged at his lips and Tony looked down. Peter followed his gaze, fingers twitching beneath Tony's hand.

“Considering you haven't pulled away…” Tony mused, “Maybe I just surprised you a bit…?”

Peter licked his dry lips. “You… You want to go on a date with me…?”

The question seemed to take Tony off guard.

“I thought I was pretty obvious?” He sounded hesitant, brown eyes flickering with uncertainty. “I've been flirting with you for the past few weeks?”

“You flirt with everyone,” Peter objected, staring. “How was I supposed to…”

Tony's smile changed, from soft to slightly abashed. “Well… Not everyone since… I've been spending all my time with you…”

That… was actually true, Peter realized. Beyond their library sessions, Tony had been popping up around Peter a lot more often. It was always with one excuse or another so it never occurred to Peter that Tony was actively seeking him out.

“Oh,” Peter said, a bit faint. “Maybe… then…”

“Can I?” Tony asked, smiling brightly once more.

When did Tony's face get so close? His brown eyes were so bright and sincere… He had flecks of gold in them… Or maybe it was just the sunlight making them look so brilliant.

“Yeah…” Peter replied breathlessly. “Go for it…”

Even with permission, Tony didn't dive right into it. Slowly, carefully, he leaned closer and closer and with every second, Peter's heart raced with anticipation.

It was soft… Tony's lips felt soft and sweet pressed against his. Gentle and careful as though he'd fly back if Peter showed any objections.

There was none. Peter leaned forward, lifting a hand to hesitatingly cup Tony's face. Their noses bumped together, awkward and a bit embarrassing. Tony pulled back a bit, lips curled into a wry smile with Peter staring at him, pink cheeked.

“Again?” He asked.

“Please…” Peter murmured.

Another turned into two then three and many more until they got kicked out of the library for PDA.

Both boys were still beaming, faces flushed. In the hallway, Peter shyly took Tony's hand. His confidence skyrocketed when Tony squeezed and didn't let go.

Peter should've felt bad.

He was supposed to be tutoring Tony but Peter couldn't resist those pretty brown eyes of his. A week later and several chaste kisses, he still couldn't believe what had happened. But things escalated fast… How could they not? Tony was the boy of Peter's dreams and with how the other boy reacted to him, Tony felt the same.

Their sweet kisses quickly heated up.

Tony was shameless but Peter was still a bit more reserved, at least around other people. Pete quickly suggested that they move tutoring to his place.

His face was fire engine red when he said it, but Tony didn't tease him too badly for it.

Of course… Perhaps, it was a terrible idea…

The most they did in terms of studying was bringing the books out. Maybe cracking it open in some attempt to focus but they were two teenage boys with their crushes just recently reciprocated.

May was often working until the evenings so with the two of them alone… They wouldn't even make it past half an hour before someone did something. And as much as Peter wanted to blame Tony for always being so touchy feely, he couldn't deny that he was just as bad.

How could Peter deny himself when his boyfriend was right there? Soft lips smirking at him, brown eyes sly and filled with warmth… The kind of warmth that heated Peter up from the inside out.

Most times, it started off slow and careful. Hands touching, mouths pressing gently. Once the mood was set though, they'd press up against each other, clothed chest against clothed chest.

It just felt so good to touch… To let his hands wander over Tony's body, hands slipping over his wrists, his arms… Palms curving around his jaw and mouths gasping open...

The first time Tony pressed him down against his own bed, Peter's heartbeat skyrocketed. They fell down together and Peter remembered staring at Tony's wide eyes and so feeling embarrassingly hard.

The first panicked thought, oh God, he's gonna feel it… I can't help it... He's gonna know…

How embarrassing that Peter was already so hard but this was normal, wasn't it? A discrete glance down Tony's body showed him in the same predicament and suddenly it no longer mattered that Peter had an erection. He wanted to feel Tony against him, wanted to feel the proof that he was desirable and that he, Peter, had provoked such a reaction.

Dark strands of hair fell into Tony's eyes and he froze, looking down at Peter with that hungry gaze.

“Is this… is this okay?” Tony asked breathlessly.

Peter knew at that moment that if he had said no, the other boy would scramble away. It'd be an embarrassing moment, but Peter felt such warmth and happiness that Tony was being careful with him.

Not that he needed it. At least, not then. He tugged the other boy down and Tony followed, his body pressing Peter's down.

More kisses, sweet and passionate. It was clumsy and wet but at least their teeth didn't click together, not like the first couple of times they got caught up. They were better at kissing now, tilting their faces so their lips would slant together.

The first time Peter slipped his tongue into Tony's mouth, the other boy jerked in his arms, surprised by the feeling. Tony eagerly reciprocated, moans muffled against Peter's mouth.

Tony's leg pressed between his own and Peter gasped, pressing his erection against a strong thigh. His eyes squeezed shut, losing himself in the sensation.

They ended up on their sides. It was easier that way and Peter liked it better. He was able to wrap an arm around Tony's neck and pull the other boy close. Any form of embarrassment was out the window. All that was left was the heat of Tony's mouth and the hard line of his erection pressed against Peter's own aching cock.

They hadn't even been able to strip off their clothes. Maybe a part of Peter was still hesitant to do so but it was more likely that impatience had taken over.

Everything just felt good and neither boy was willing to stop it for even a moment. There would be plenty of other times, but for now, this was what they wanted.

Just rutting against each other, their hips moving a little too fast, a little too roughly. They were both eager for it and couldn't spare a thought besides how good it felt.

When Tony pulled away, Peter whined and chased after him. His lips landed on the other boy's jaw and to Peter, that was good enough. He kissed down the line of his jaw, lips closing in on Tony's unmarked skin. He actually felt the moan Tony let out in response, a helpless groan reverberating through his throat.

“Peter– Fuck,” Tony gasped when he felt Peter's tongue lick at his heated skin. His hips jerked eagerly against Peter's and his hands grew tight on the boy's arms.

“God, I'm gonna–” An embarrassed moan, a bit high pitched. A sign that Tony was losing it. “We should stop…”

“Stop?” Peter groaned, pulling away just a bit, “You don't wanna keep going…?”

“Of course I want to…” Tony said, panting breathlessly. “But if we keep going .. You're gonna make me come and that's gonna be so… fucking embarrassing.”

Hearing Tony admit it was both arousing and embarrassing too. Peter loved that he was making the boy lose control and in that moment… He didn't really care too much.

His hand slipped beneath Tony's shirt and he felt warm skin beneath his fingertips. Just that feeling… Tony's bare flesh against his palm… It further incited the teen.

“You can borrow something of mine…” Peter suggested without hesitation. “I don't wanna stop… It feels good… Doesn't it feel good for you… too…?”

He didn't want to stop…

Tony groaned at the friction. Peter's cock was pressed against his own and he couldn't deny that this was the sexiest thing that's happened to him ever. The thought of coming in his pants, just from rubbing up against the other boy was too much…

“So good…” Tony murmured. Then he reached between their bodies, pressing his palm against Peter's clothed cock.

“Oh…!” Peter groaned, head jerking down to watch. Just one touch and he felt like he was going to blow… But he used every bit of strength to hold on.

He wasn't disappointed. Tony fumbled with his belt, but with a bit of fighting, he was able to undo Peter's pants. He quickly switched to his own and Peter took over, unzipping and slipping his hand inside his boxers.

He hissed when he touched it… His cheeks burned but Tony was hastily drawing his own cock out.

Peter got a glimpse of it, his first look at another boy's erection besides his own. It was flushed pink, the tip of It wet with precum. He could barely take his eyes off it, Peter just wanted to reach out and touch it…

“Yours…” Tony gasped, voice needy with arousal. He reached out and finished what he started, reaching into Peter's pants and pulling him out. Peter groaned at the first touch, hips jerking forward.

Both boys hissed when their erections pressed together. Peter gripped Tony's wrist, helpless to do anything else besides ride out the sensations.

Tony had them grasped in his warm palm. They were both leaking, the precum dripping from their slits to coat their hard lengths.

“Better…” Peter said reverently.

“So much better,” Tony groaned into his ear. His hand jerked them off but it was sloppy and messy. Their hips moved without care, just chasing after their own pleasure.

They were pressed so close together that there was barely any room. But the friction was there. Whether it was against each other of Tony's hand moving over them, it was more than enough.

Neither lasted very long once they got into a decent rhythm. Tony groaned when he couldn't hold out any longer. Peter had his face pressed against the other boy's neck and he felt it the moment Tony came.

It was such an intimate moment, realizing that Tony was coming. The other boy's body froze and at that moment, Peter felt the other boy's cock twitch against his. Then he felt the warmth of Tony's cum as it spilled over the boy's fingers.

“Tony…” Peter gasped. The sight of his cum spurting out between their bodies… All that thick cum spilling into him, wetting own erection…

Peter came with a harsh groan, barely able to keep his eyes open. Once Tony recovered, he helped Peter finish, jerking him off and letting the boy make an even bigger mess.

“That's it, baby…” Tony murmured, breath hot against his ear. “Yeah, that's it… Cum, Peter… Cum on me… Feels so… good…”

Peter whined as Tony milked the last drops from his sensitive cock.

A glance at the clock showed that it had only been ten minutes since they started. They were a mess with so much cum between their bodies and on their clothes. And yet, from the quirk of Tony's lips, Peter knew that the other boy didn't regret it.

Tony kissed him again in the aftermath and Peter knew then that this was just the beginning.

#starker #madstarker writes #moody mads #nff #Young!Tony #high school au

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kpopfanfictrash · 6 years ago

Text

Image is Sweet (M)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash , as part of The 7 Society, a series with @underthejoon.

Creative Content Contributor: moodboard by @baebae-goodnight (WHOSE MOODBOARDS INSPIRED THE WHOLE THING)

Rating: 18+ (explicit sex)

Warning: threesome, semi-public sex, sensory deprivation, dirty talk, rough bj

Word Count: 16,700

Summary: Park Jimin, star lacrosse player, always in the library, loves volunteering and carrying grocery bags for grandmothers. If he continues this way, he’ll inherit the entire family fortune. Unless, of course, you find out what he’s like behind closed doors. [ THIS IS A REPOST ]

• JIMIN •

Staring out at the water, Jimin’s hands grip the railing. The metal is cold beneath his fingers, the first tinges of fall in the air but still, he doesn’t head back. Though the night is frigid, it’s at least ten degrees warmer than the gazes inside and Jimin just can’t bring himself to enter. Exhaling gently, Jimin brings his glass to his lips. Champagne, from a region in France Jimin has never visited but the label was expensive, and that’s all that matters.

The ocean before him is calm, belying chaotic nature beneath. Wind whips Jimin’s hair, flaps the lapels of his jacket to strain at his buttons. Jimin keeps drinking, relishing in the first time alone he’s had to himself all evening. The deck around him is quiet, marred only by the sounds of thumping bass and laughter from behind.

Right now, Jimin’s thoughts are blank – carefully so. If he thinks about things for too long, his musings take on a dangerous shape, and Jimin is not dangerous. At least, that’s not who he is to the public and that’s all that matters. Jimin is the bright star of campus, the beautiful golden boy whom everyone loves. He would never do anything bad, an image he’s worked tirelessly to protect.

Image. Jimin’s grip tightens on his glass because if there’s one things his father taught him, it’s image. Image is everything, more important than truth because image is the thing that the public believes. In a face-to-face conversation, 55% of communication is relayed through body language; another 38% through tone and a measly 7% through the words that you say.

Which means that if you look and act the part, the battle is already won. Taking a casual sip from his drink, Jimin contemplates its depths. His father has taught him other things, to be sure – how to smile, digging the knife in someone’s back; how to breathe through the pain that you cause; how to sleep after winning a battle the wrong way.

Jimin has never been good at any of these things. He’s good at image though, so this is what he clings to and keeps his father at bay. So long as Jimin acts the part, his father leaves him well enough alone. Until he graduates University, that is and becomes the Park family heir. Swallowing the last of his glass, Jimin stares out at the ocean and considers dropping his glass overboard. It’s something his father would do, certainly – no one here would notice, no one here would care.

Jimin doesn’t do it in the end, he simply turns away from the night to walk inside. Placing his glass on a passing waiter’s tray, he smiles genteell and the man nearly stumbles. It’s not an unexpected response and Jimin continues on his way; his entrance draws stares from the rest, though this is also nothing unusual. Everyone knows Jimin, though none will say this out loud. Such a thing would be uncouth, distasteful but at the same time, everyone must know who he is.

The party at the front of the boat is loud, yet controlled; no one is puking, no one is grinding to the beat of the music. The front is nothing wild, nothing racy – the lighting here is dim, décor kept elegant and there’s nothing to detract from his golden image. Jimin keeps his expression carefully neutral, walking to the back of the boat because the image of the front is much different from reality.

Winding his way through the party, Jimin smiles and laughs with the others. He needs to be seen, needs to be heard before he disappears for the night. This is where Jimin excels though, always careful to check the boxes of image before giving in and ruining it completely. He knows how to be charming, how to be polite, how to call a person by name and have conversation topics ready. Business, leisure; it all comes easily to Jimin, all blurs together until he’s dizzy from more than the champagne.

Once he’s past the length of the crowd, Jimin hovers at the back of the boat until no one looks and then he slips out in the hall. Fairly standard in design, spanning the entire width of the boat and meant to take guests from one deck to the other. Midway down there’s a door, one Jimin stops before to glance furtively either way. Once, twice, he raps on the wood.

There’s a pause, a long moment where Jimin once again glances sideways – then the door cracks open.

“Password?” a stranger drawls.

Jimin rolls his eyes, shifting his weight. “Let me the fuck in, Taehyung. I recognize the sound of your voice.”

“Ha! You won’t get me with that one, potential imposter! Password, or I’ll make you walk the plank.”

“Dulce,” Jimin murmurs, glancing up at the ceiling, “periculum.”

Danger is sweet. Taehyung doesn’t respond to this at first, pushing shut the door to swing fully open. “Correct!” he crows, lifting a glass of champagne. “Welcome to the back of the party, Park.”

Stepping inside, Taehyung shuts the door to seal them off from the rest of the boat. He grins at Jimin’s appearance, smelling strongly of champagne and cologne – both of which likely cost more than the crystal glass he holds in his hand. Straightening his jacket, Jimin glances past Taehyung down the hall. “Did I miss anything?” he inquires, nearly yelling to be heard over the music.

Taehyung shakes his head. “Not much,” he allows, falling into place beside him. “Some girl dared Jennie to butt-chug a fifth of vodka. She might do it, that’d be entertaining.”

“Butt-chug?” Jimin repeats, somewhat appalled. “So, what – she’s just going to strip, and someone will pour vodka up her ass?”

“I’m as intrigued by it as you are,” Taehyung grins, shoving a hand through his hair. Wavy strands fall around his face, prompting the stares of onlookers. “I don’t know if I’ll be turned on or completely disgusted. Bit of both, I imagine.”

Laughing at the image, Jimin continues down the hall. The space opens out at the back of the ship, night sky above them dark and speckled with stars. The breeze is heavy, laden with salt and the scent of alcohol below. Jimin stares into the crowd, gaze as unfocused as his thoughts. When Taehyung lazily presses a glass to his hand, Jimin accepts it without question.

People tend to be confused, when they first realize Taehyung and Jimin are friends. Perhaps friends is the wrong word; the two are really more like brothers. There’s Jimin, campus golden boy; star of the lacrosse team and eventual inheritor of the Park family business. Then there’s Taehyung; as shadowed as Jimin is light, the caustic recklessness to Jimin’s cautiousness. Taehyung is the dark horse of his family, a man who couldn’t care less about the wealth and prosperity he does have; only insomuch that it gets him places.

At least, this is Taehyung’s appearance but like most things, image is not what it seems, and Taehyung is no exception. Jimin and Taehyung have been friends for longer than he can recall, to the point where he’s more like family than anyone else in his life. Stopping that thought, Jimin drains the rest of his glass. It’s not worth thinking about.

Continuing his scan of the party, Jimin feels his vision dulled by alcohol. It couldn’t be anything more than that, couldn’t be this dark, empty hole which eats him alive. It’s a daily reminder that his life is meaningless, that he is a shallow image of nothing and all this could disappear overnight. The thought is too dangerous for a party like this, so Jimin searches aimlessly through the crowd for a distraction.

He finds one in the shape of a girl by the bar with the largest tits and smallest waist Jimin has ever seen. Seeing Jimin staring at her, she arches a brow in a way which makes his cock stir in his pants.

Taehyung turns, seeing what he’s looking at. “Nice,” he snorts. “That girl is fun, freaky as hell – I hear she’s down for threesomes, but I was too drunk that night to ask.”

“Hm.” Jimin considers, bringing his glass to his lips. “How long ago was this?”

“Dunno. Last year, I think?”

Nodding, Jimin breaks eye contact and turns. Anyone Taehyung thinks is freaky definitely is, which has him interested but the party is only beginning. Jimin is here for the long haul, he likes having options and that girl is only one of them.

Taehyung exhales, shifting closer. “Incoming,” he mutters, drawing Jimin’s attention to the hall they just exited.

Glancing over his shoulder, Jimin nearly groans out loud. Of course, Seokjin is here – this is a party, after all. He looks immaculate, brushing non-existent dirt from his sleeve as he walks; dark hair pushed back from his face to reveal deep eyes and full lips. Seeing Jimin standing before him, Seokjin’s face darkens as he walks closer.

Though everything about Seokjin is poised, his eyes remain steely. “Park,” he drawls, coming to a stop.

Jimin takes a sip from his drink. “Seokjin,” he returns, inclining his head.

Seokjin’s two cronies stand on either side and it’s not Jimin’s imagination, that the music is now lower. The song switches to something softer, something with less words and Jimin knows it’s so they can be overheard. The Parks and the Kims, an age-old rivalry which goes back decades, to some business deal or personal matter which went desperately sour. It’s been so long, no one really remembers the real reason.

Seokjin scans Jimin, landing on his face. “Didn’t know you’d be here,” he states, lifting a brow. “I thought this was a more exclusive event.”

Jimin stares. “You didn’t think I’d attend my own party?"

For this is his, after all – Jimin’s end-of-summer celebration, the last hurrah before the last year of school.

Seokjin looks around him, in mock-surprise. "Oh, this is your party? I get so many invitations during the week, it’s hard to keep track.”

“Must be difficult,” Jimin deadpans. “Not knowing how to count to one.”

When someone snickers below, Seokjin scowls. “Just stay out of my way,” he mutters, shoving past Jimin as he walks away.

Jimin waits until he’s gone, Seokjin’s two henchmen soon following. Taehyung winks at them both, blowing one a rather lazy kiss and, stifling a grin, Jimin turns around.

Jimin: hey, sorry about the diss [12:04 AM]

The reply from Seokjin is instantaneous.

Seokjin: you twat!! I’m supposed to keep a straight face during our arguments haha I nearly lost it [12:05 AM]

Grinning, Jimin slips his phone back in his pocket and turns back towards the party. Just another example of the hypocrisy of their world – on the outside, he and Seokjin are enemies but in real life, they’re friends; to the point where this entire thing is ridiculous, though try telling that to their parents. Parks and Kims don’t get along, end of story.

Taehyung yawns by his side. “Well,” he drawls, dropping the cherry from his drink over the railing.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Taehyung calls, without bothering to look. “I’m gonna go find someone to fuck. See you later, Park.”

With that he leaves, giving him a small salute before sauntering off down the staircase. Jimin stares after, sipping from his glass before following. The party is crowded, more so than Jimin thought it would be – he wonders absently about crowd limits before pushing the thought from his mind. He pays people to worry about things like that.

Winding his way down the stairs, Jimin heads off in the direction of the bar. Another drink would be nice and there’s still that girl from earlier, the one with Taehyung’s kink seal of approval. Jimin isn’t really looking where he’s going, isn’t listening, until –

“CANNONBALL!”

His gaze snaps up, whirling in time to avoid the giant wave of water which crashes over the deck. Several girls shriek, soaked to the bone – hoots and whistles soon follow, much to Jimin’s annoyance. Exhaling, he shakes water from his hand, wringing his sleeve as he turns and nearly smacks into someone.

“Fuck,” Jimin yelps, grabbing your elbows to keep you from falling. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking. Are you okay?”

Groaning, you stare down at the entire glass of wine you’ve just spilled on your shirt. “Shit,” you whisper, not looking up. That will stain, but that’s not your biggest concern. Your biggest problem is that this is Park Jimin, and he can’t see your face.

Staring at the top of your head, Jimin’s gaze remains slightly unfocused. He’d like to help, but you keep refusing to look at him and he can’t tell if you’re pissed or not. “Are you okay?” he repeats, leaning in – only for you to spin abruptly away.

“I’m fine,” you call, waving a hand over your shoulder. “Just – keep on walking, okay?’

Then you’re gone, disappeared into the crowd and Jimin is left staring at nothing. He blinks, something stirring in his half-drunken state, but he can’t find it in him to care. If you don’t want his help, he’s certainly not going to force you to take it. Jimin is no one’s white knight, he’s not going to chase after you like a psycho. Returning to his walk through the crowd, Jimin finds his original destination and it doesn’t take long before you’re pushed from his mind.

When he’s next to the girl, he finds that she doesn’t play games; which is somewhat disappointing until she whispers, "fuck me,” into his ear and Jimin’s cock twitches in excitement.

“Let’s go,” he grunts, grabbing her hand to pull her straight through the crowd. One of the best parts of throwing this party, of owning this ship is he knows the layout of the halls – knows the best places to sleep and to fuck. Jimin brings the girl onto the dance floor, turning around to ask, “Just you?”

Her eyes darken. “Who would join us?” she murmurs, and it doesn’t take long before another is found.

Jimin has the ability to draw people in, with his wavy blonde hair, thick lips and his smile. Just a few, whispered words about what he’d like to do with said lips and the second girl is agreeing, following the two of them back. Time is a bit fuzzy, thanks to the alcohol, but it can’t be more than five minutes before they’re naked on the bed.

Jimin pauses, draining his drink to place this on the counter. “I’m going to be rather demanding tonight,” he informs, unbuttoning his cuffs. “Is that alright, ladies?”

They nod, already shifting with anticipation. Asses pressed to the sheets, chest arched on the wall, Jimin stares lustfully at the curves of their breasts, peaks of their nipples, the swell of where their thighs meet.

“Kiss her,” he murmurs, undoing a button.

The first girl nods, turning to open the other’s mouth with her own. The second is hesitant, has likely never done anything like this before, but it only takes a few moments before she’s melting into her touch. Her hands slide around the other’s waist, eagerly brushing nipples until they become hardened peaks.

Jimin just smiles, dropping his shirt on the ground. “Good,” he announces, bringing their attention to him. “What lovely lips you have, sweetheart,” Jimin informs the second, walking closer. “I’d love to see them wrapped around my cock.”

The girl’s eyes widen when she nods, scooting closer as Jimin kneels on the bed. Her hands reach quick for his belt, Jimin’s eyes meeting the gaze of the other to gesture lazily forward. Hands sliding into her hair, his mouth opens hers; tongue pushing lazily into her mouth while the other girl’s hand finds his cock.

“Ah,” Jimin exhales, thrusting into her touch. “That’s it, baby, put my dick in your mouth.”

Whimpering, the girl shoves his pants down his thighs and bends on the bed. Jimin hisses when her lips find his cock, wrapping around him to slide slowly upwards. She’s good, enough that Jimin nearly forgets himself for a moment. His eyes flutter shut, only to snap open and focus on the other.

“Come here,” he demands, pulling her into him. Jimin’s hands drift down over her body, brushing her breasts and between her bare legs. Slipping his finger inside, he fucks the girl slowly – listening to her moan and adjusting his rhythm. He grips the other girl by the hair, pulling her onto his cock.

Thrusting, he relishes the sound of her gagging before pulling away. “What about your friend’s cunt,” he murmurs, kissing the first girl’s neck. “Don’t be stingy, let her have some fun.”

The girl obeys, sliding her finger into the second – the girl gasps in response, eyes wide around her mouthful of Jimin’s cock. “Oh,” she moans, sliding off with a pop.

Jimin chuckles, stroking over himself slowly. “This is your first time with a girl, isn’t it?” he asks, watching her be fingered from behind. She nods, eyes fluttering shut with arousal. “Mm,” Jimin sighs, “then we better make tonight enjoyable, yes?”

Moving closer, his hands cup her breasts and she moans. “Will you fuck me?” she asks, breathless when he starts to play with her nipples.

“Later,” Jimin agrees. “Later, you can bounce on my dick while your friend rides my face – how does that sound?”

Nodding, she eagerly presses her ass into the other girl’s hand. “Yes, please.”

“Ah,” Jimin exhales, tugging her nipples between his fingers. “Good girl. I’ll eat you out, if you keep talking like that. Would you like that? Do you want me to lick your sweet, little pussy?”

“Yes,” she chokes out, nearly moaning the word.

“Good,” Jimin nods, cock hard with excitement. If her response is anything to go by, this night will be fun.

Just like the last night, and the one before that. Something dark and hollow settles deep in his chest; at least, until the girl takes his dick once more in her mouth. “Ah, shit,” Jimin hisses, head thrown back in response. “Keep going,” he grunts, until all his qualms fade away.

Walking across main quad, Jimin pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up. It’s cold this morning, almost as though his end-of-summer party called things into motion. Adjusting the buds in his ears, Jimin turns up his music and squints into the fog. It’s early, well-within the hours before the rest of the campus will be awake. The grass squishes beneath his sneakers, mist rising to bleed into the air.

Jimin is hungover. Last night was fun, but it left him with a headache of monumental proportions; along with dry mouth which has him wanting to die. Not that it matters, he’ll be expected to suck it up at practice; Jimin is captain, meaning he’s always on form. This morning he’ll lead the drills, lead the laps and the strength training and the exercises; which to be honest, sounds like torture. Taking a long sip of his coffee, Jimin attempts to regain some resemblance of energy.

The sandstone of the lacrosse stadium is now visible, rising in the air the closer Jimin gets. He blocks out the sight, concentrating instead on finishing the last of his coffee. It may be dehydrating him, sure, but without it, he’s dead.

“Park Jimin?”

At first, Jimin doesn’t hear. He nearly walks past you, too absorbed in his music – but then he sees you, standing framed in the arch of the locker room and it’s such a strange sight, that he comes to a halt. Feet stumbling to a stop, Jimin glances at you from the sign overhead.

“I’m not still drunk, am I?’ he mutter, lifting a hand to his eyes. "You’re female, and that’s the guy’s locker room.”

Rolling your eyes, you step free from the sun and Jimin sees you clearly for the very first time. As far as first impressions go, it’s not a great one. You’re dressed in a lumpy cardigan, buttoned up over your boobs, paired with brownish colored pants and loafers. Actual loafers, and stifling a smile, Jimin takes a sip from his cup.

You don’t seem concerned with your appearance, walking until you’re standing underneath his nose. At least you smell nice, Jimin decides. “You are Jimin, aren’t you?” you query, squinting up at him. “I didn’t get the wrong name, did I?”

Jimin blinks, looking around because in his years of experience, people tend to know who he is. “Uh, no?” he responds. “You got the right name. What is this? Are you writing an article for the paper, or something?”

Blood drains quick from your face. “Who told you?” you snap, whipping around. “Was it Marcie? God, she can be such a blabbermouth, I swear that’s the last time I tell my editor anything, I –”

“Uh,” Jimin reaches out, tapping the notepad you hold. “Lucky guess, Sherlock. You’re holding a notepad, there’s a camera bag slung over your shoulder and we’re standing in front of the lacrosse stadium. I figure you’re doing a sports story, or something.”

“You’d be the Sherlock,” you respond, automatic.

“Huh?”

“If you’re the one deducing something,” you explain, rummaging around in your bag, “you’d be the one called Sherlock.”

Jimin just stares at you, since you’ve ignored everything else he just said. “Um. Can I help you?”

“Yes,” you nod, finally finding your pen. “Right, yeah.” Jimin leans in to look at your notebook – only for you to snap the book shut, inches away from his nose. “No looking,” you frown. “I don’t read your secret, uh, lacrosse notes – do I?”

Jimin nearly chokes. “Lacrosse notes? I take it you’ve never seen a lacrosse game –”

“Y/N,” you supply. “And no, I haven’t. Am I missing out?”

“Well.” Jimin fights back a smile, unsure if he should be amused or offended by this entire interaction. “Seeing as I’m the team captain, I’m obligated to say yes.”

“Obligated,” you return, arching a brow. “Meaning, you don’t want to?”

Jimin just shrugs, taking another sip of his coffee. “Is this part of the article you’re writing?”

“Oh. No, not really.”

Though Jimin waits, you don’t explain further, and he watches with interest as you push a hand through your hair. The color catches the light, strands shining where they fall and Jimin has the sudden, strange urge to touch. His hand is half-raised before he can stop himself, to which Jimin quickly changes into a fix of his own hair. Odd. Now that he looks though, he can’t help but admit you are attractive. You are dressed like an idiot, yes; a bit abrasive, sure, but pretty.

Swallowing, Jimin is uncertain why he finds the fact so unsettling.

“Well,” you hesitate and, for the first time, you seem awkward. Wrapping both arms around your notebook, you stare. “I need to talk to you. In private.”

When you tell him this, Jimin’s stomach sinks in response. Of course you do. In his many years of experience, people only tend to say this when they want one of two things. One, they want a favor from Jimin; or two, they want a favor from his family.

Expression darkening, Jimin moves to walk past. “Ah,” he exhales, draining the rest of his coffee. “I’m already late for practice, actually. Sorry.”

“It’s about the 7.”

Stopping suddenly, Jimin freezes. He doesn’t move, not when you walk around him to face him, nor when you appear several inches away from his nose. Now you’re the one squinting up at him, like you have a bug in your eye.

“I,” Jimin frowns in response. “I don’t know what you’re talking about."

Inside though, he’s buzzing – even more than before because fuck, no one is supposed to know about the 7. What’s worse, no one should ever connect him to the 7 because Jimin isn’t even a part of the Society. Not yet, anyways.

Eyes darkening, you hold your pen like a sword. "I don’t believe you, rich boy.”

Keeping his expression carefully blank, Jimin swats your pen away. “Believe what you want,” he snorts. “It doesn’t matter what you believe, what matters is what the public believes. You have no proof, you’re just giving me reactionary statements.”

Somewhat confused by his response, you frown. “I think others will believe me, once I publish my account of the party.”

Something leaden sinks into Jimin’s stomach, realizing why you seem familiar. You were at the party, the one he spilled his drink on that night. Even half-drunk and having never seen your face, Jimin recognizes your shape. Mouth suddenly gone dry, Jimin lifts his cup to his mouth before he remembers it’s empty. On the inside he’s sweating, though he fights to remain calm.

“The party?” Jimin repeats, unconcerned. “The one on the boat? I remember you. What of it?”

Though you seem surprised by his admittance, you take a step closer. “This,” you insist, thrusting out your hand to give Jimin a paper. His hand closes around it, automatic. “I need to talk to you about this photo,” you inform, before pulling away.

Jimin tilts his head, taking the paper without opening it. The weight is heavy, creased down the middle and Jimin slips it into his pocket. “I don’t know who you are,” he responds to you, quiet. “And I don’t know who you think I am, but you have the wrong guy.” When Jimin turns to leave, you snort and he looks back over his shoulder. “Something funny?”

You’re pissed. That much is obvious, from the set of your mouth walking towards him. “Don’t think you’re so mysterious,” you huff, poking him square in the chest. “I have copies of that photo and I will print it with my story if you don’t meet me to talk. Just because I’m a girl,” you blurt, voice rising at the end, “doesn’t mean I won’t take you down!”

Jimin arches a brow. “An intriguing proposition.”

“Oh, lord,” you wince, jaw clamping shut as you turn away from his gaze. “Think whatever you want. I’ll wait, Jimin, I have nothing but time.”

Lips pressed together to keep from laughing, Jimin watches you go. He assures himself that there’s nothing to worry about, he’s untouchable. Nothing really happened on that boat, nothing multiple witnesses wouldn’t support Jimin on, anyways. Then Jimin lifts the paper, opening the fold.

Before him, the world seems to tilt, his gaze wavering with nausea while Jimin takes in the image. It’s a photo, one of him at the party and he’s not alone. Jimin is leaning on a bar, talking to that girl and – oh, fuck. Jimin shoves a hand through his hair, realizing what’s on the counter between them.

Cocaine. Pure, white powder that’s blatantly obvious, and Jimin wonders how he missed it that night. Someone must have been there before them, left it out because the powder’s half-gone, white lines clear as day. Staring down at the image, it almost seems to blur and Jimin realizes he’s done for. If this photo got out, it would ruin him.

Jimin’s entire life is built around image, around being this perfect man whom everybody can trust. A scandal like this would ruin his credibility, which is the only thing of value he can give to his family. Crumpling the image in his fist, Jimin turns around towards the building. Barely aware of what he’s doing, he walks angrily inside and tears off his sweatshirt. Tossing this into a locker, he changes quickly because he’s already late and when he jogs out on the field, Jimin’s lips are set in a line.

He can’t get the photograph out of his mind, that damn photograph with one line of writing at the top.

Coffee Bean. Wednesday night, 7:00 PM.

It’s exactly seven, when Jimin enters the coffee shop. He spots you right away, seated at the table next to the kitchen – you’re fiddling with the straw in your drink, some iced coffee Jimin has no idea the name of. Whatever you’re drinking, you seem nervous as you sip, which gives Jimin a small amount of satisfaction shutting the door. Clearly, this isn’t your normal method of information gathering.

This is something he can use, later.

Walking inside, Jimin can’t help but think about what’s at stake – his reputation, for one; a potential membership with the 7, for another. The 7 Society. An infamous organization at the University which few, if any, can definitively speak on. Jimin isn’t a member, not yet but there’s always a very small pool of candidates and he’s definitely one of them. If this article runs though, he won’t be anymore.

Pulling out a chair to sit down at your table, Jimin says nothing when you jerk back in shock. It’s oddly endearing, how startled you look. Here you sit, blackmailing him with the nerve to look embarrassed. Dressed in another one of those cardigans, at least this one remains mostly unbuttoned and Jimin is about to comment on this fact when, he remembers why he’s here.

Lacing his hands on top of the table, Jimin cocks his head to one side. “Hi,” he greets.

Though you don’t respond, your eyes lower to his clothes. “Did you run here?” you query.

Jimin frowns. He knows what he’s wearing – a thin, black hoodie and sweatpants, straight from his locker. “Yeah,” he nods. “You didn’t give me much of a choice on the time. Not like I could text you or anything, so I literally ran from practice.”

“Oh,” you respond, somewhat embarrassed. “I see.”

Jimin lets the silence grow, not wanting to make things easier. You were the one who started this, are the one threatening him, which means you can speak first. On the table between you, your fingers trace over your notepad and Jimin’s gaze follows the motion, wondering if you ever leave it behind. It’s strange, to write free-handed, isn’t it? Jimin doesn’t really know, never having been a writer himself.

There’s something delicate in your motions, almost nervous and Jimin feels himself softening, despite himself. “So,” he exhales. “About the photo.”

You look up, relief clear on your face. “Right,” you nod, exhaling. “I’m sorry about that.”

That’s not what Jimin expected. “You’re sorry?” he repeats, somewhat incredulous.

“Yeah,” you agree, biting down on your lip. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this…”

“You didn’t mean to blackmail me.”

Gaze sharpening, you frown. “I’m not blackmailing you.”

“Oh?” Jimin leans in. “Then what do you call it? There’s a compromising photo of me that you’re going to release to the public unless I do what you want. Blackmail.”

Dipping into a scowl, you lean closer as well. “Like you’re so innocent. Park Jimin, handed the world on a silver platter, given every opportunity money can buy. Just because you fucked up,” you hiss, “and I have a photo of it, doesn’t give you a right to be upset. You did something wrong! You deserve to be called out.”

“Except you’re not,” Jimin points out. “You’re offering to push this under the rug if I help with your story. Blackmail.”

Staring for a moment, you let this quietly sink in. “Whatever, call it what you want. I actually,” you sigh, drumming your fingers on the table, “was trying to get an interview with Taehyung on the boat. With his family history, I figured he’s a shoe-in for the 7. Then that photo happened and, well,” you wave a hand, “here we are.”

“Gee,” Jimin drawls. “I’m flattered to be your second choice.”

Eyes narrowed, you seem about to respond when someone bumps into you from behind and nearly spills a drink on your head. Jimin’s head snaps up, narrowing in on the offender and he frowns, recognizing no signs of remorse.

Unable to keep his mouth shut, Jimin coughs. “Professor Nam,” he greets, draping one arm over the back of his chair. “What a surprise, seeing you outside of the classroom.”

The man stops. “Jimin,” he blinks, shaking hair from his gaze. “I didn’t see you there. How are things, how’s the grading coming?”

Though Jimin’s smile tightens, it doesn’t waver. “The grading is going fine, thank you,” he nods. “How’re Lucy and the kids?”

“Good, good,” the man drones, absent-minded. He glances at his Cartier watch, nearly spilling his coffee once more. “Same old, you know.”

The man has yet to acknowledge your presence, despite having nearly soaked you twice now with coffee. “I really don’t know,” Jimin responds blithely, causing you to snort in response.

Professor Nam looks down at you, brow creased in disapproval. “Well,” he exhales, switching his coffee to his other hand. “I’d better get going. See you in class, Jimin,” he nods, walking away.

Jimin watches him go, shop door opening and shutting. “Prick,” he mutters, gaze unmoving. “I TA for that guy, he’s a real piece of work. Anyways,” he states, returning to you, “we were discussing your blackmail.”

Before, you were feeling almost grateful – that guy was being a dick, and Jimin didn’t approve – but now you remember why you’re here. “I’m not blackma – ah, fuck it,” you sigh. “Call it whatever you want, Jimin.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Jimin grins, lacing both hands behind his head. “Alright, spill. Tell me what you know about the 7 and what you want from me, in return.”

“What I want from you in return,” you repeat, mulling over the words.

Jimin just watches, staring at the dimple furrowed between your brow. Oh, fuck. Jerking himself backwards, Jimin pointedly looks away. You’re blackmailing him, for god’s sake. He shouldn’t be thinking about dimples anywhere on your body but then – oh shit, your body. Folding both arms across his chest like a shield, Jimin glares.

“So,” you exhale, pushing both hands through your hair. Strands fall around your face like weapon, a crazy pattern matching the one on your sweater. “There’s this secret 7 Society, made up of seven men, all varying ages but from the same incestuous families.”

Jimin nearly chokes. “Incestuous?” he coughs.

“Oh, you know,” you respond, rolling your eyes. “It’s all the same people in these things, the same well-to-do –”

“Well-to-do?”

“Well-to-do families,” you continue, as though uninterrupted. “The ones who came over on the Mayflower, or some shit and think that because of this, they can buy your ass – or, well, they can try.”

Despite himself, Jimin smiles. “That’s an interesting theory.”

“Right?” you respond, not seeming to catch onto the sarcasm. “Anyways, the 7 Society are a bunch of rich, elitist dicks who think they own the word and do terrible things because of it. I want to write this story,” you inform, sitting up straight. “I want to expose them. The Society has this reputation for corruption, scandal, blackmail –”

“Oh, the irony,” Jimin grins.

“Shut up,” you scowl, shaking a finger in his general direction. “This is different, I’m doing this for the betterment of society – you just fuck around with people because you can.”

“The betterment of society?” Jimin blurts, unable to contain his laughter. “That’s rich, coming from you. You’re getting nothing from this, right? No job offers, no magazines calling for you – no money, no fortune, no fame,” Jimin ticks each one off on his fingers. “Just face it, Y/N,” he shrugs. “You’re no better than I am.”

Your fingers still for the first time and Jimin sobers, seeing how his words have affected you. You’re not better than him, not in this, which you seem to have realized. Mouth snapping shut, you sink low in your seat and Jimin begins to worry you’ve lost all ability to speak.

“Let’s just say,” he starts, giving you a break. “Let’s just say that you’re right, for a second. Say I’m involved with this mysterious society – what then? This is all just gossip, hearsay. The University won’t print it, not without proof.”

“True,” you croak and, seeming to recover your resolve, you stare down at your notes. “That’s where you come in.”

Glancing sideways, Jimin looks out the door of the coffee shop. You think he’s one of the 7, he realizes – either that, or you just don’t understand how the Society works. There are only 7 members at any given time and only when you’re a member, do they let you in on their secrets. Jimin knows only rumors right now; rumored names, rumored happenings and rumored information. As far as the truth goes, Jimin won’t be much help.

Some people say being a part of the 7 grants access to wealth. Others say there’s women, there’s drugs, or there’s gold. Jimin thinks that the answer is simpler. It’s power, that’s all. It’s fear of the unknown, the men in the shadows and it’s the prestige of being exclusive and elite, that’s all.

Tilting his head, Jimin examines your face. “And how would I help? What, specifically, do you need from me?”

“A story,” you respond.

Jimin can’t help but admire the way you speak. There’s fire in your eyes, venom to your words and Jimin is certain he’s never felt so strongly about anything in his life. Certainly not about his work, nor his school, nor any one person. The closest he’s come to feeling this way is about lacrosse, but even that was before his father mandated he play for his image.

“A story,” Jimin repeats. “I could help you with that.”

Though you’re shocked by the agreement, you attempt to play it off as nonchalance. "Ah, okay,” you shrug, nearly missing when you lean one elbow on the table. “That’s great.”

Jimin looks away from you, smile fading. “After all, I don’t really have a choice – do I?”

Wincing, you look down. “I – well…”

“It’s just.” Jimin leans in, until his face is too closer. “You want to be a journalist, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Then,” he continues, “do you really want this to be your start? A story you got through blackmail, filled with lies and halfway research. If you don’t go about things the right way, are the results really worth it?”

Something flickers in your gaze, flaring to life. “The right way,” you repeat, the words quiet. “My entire life, I’ve gone about things the right way and look where it’s gotten me. Look where it’s gotten my mother,” you exhale, “who works three jobs and never has time to do anything else. It’s easy to talk about the right way when all you have are options. It’s harder, when you work as hard as I do and still have nothing to lean on.”

Every word you say is a dagger, thrown with the precision of an assassin. Jimin’s stomach sinks because you are correct, he has every opportunity to do the right thing and he rarely does. You are also wrong though, because Jimin doesn’t have every opportunity, just certain ones. There are some parts of himself he’s sacrificed, some things he’s given up to maintain this image. Jimin has seen things, done things, hurt parts of himself which should never be touched. Yet still, he can’t say that you’re wrong.

“I didn’t say don’t write it,” Jimin exhales, placing his hands flat on the table. “I just think things are more complicated than you think they are.”

You hesitate at this response; just for a moment, but it’s there. Jimin sees your uncertainty and knows he can exploit it, but the funny thing is, he doesn’t want to. Your words leave him hollow because, even faced with the prospect of nothing, Jimin finds he doesn’t care. If he woke up tomorrow and everything – the cars, the boats, the booze and the 7 – even if it all disappeared, Jimin wouldn’t care.

His father would, though; which is why you should worry.

Jimin shakes his head. “Y/N. You said it yourself, these are some of the most powerful men in the world. If you expose them as part of the 7, do you truly not see the danger?”

Running your finger over the spine of your notepad you nod. “I see it,” you agree. “I see the danger. What kind of a journalist would I be, if I avoided things because I was scared?”

When you say this, Jimin stares because he’s never known such conviction in his life. “I suppose,” he murmurs, gaze flickering. “How do you want me to help, then? That photo can’t be seen by the public, I can’t allow it.”

Once more, you seem guilty. “Yeah,” you mutter, looking away. “I guess. Listen - can I ask you something?”

“Might as well,” Jimin shrugs. “I don’t see how this could get any worse.”

Shooting him a glare, you let your hands fall to the table. “Why do you do it?” you ask, genuinely confused. “I don’t understand. You seem to have everything, everyone loves and admires you. Why would you throw it all away, on something like drugs?”

Jimin stares at you for a moment. “Y/N,” he responds, eyebrows raised. “The drugs in the photo aren’t mine; you know that, right?”

For a moment, you’re flummoxed. “I – what?”

Jimin nods. “I don’t do drugs, Y/N. Do I fuck around a lot? Sure. Am I a mild alcoholic? Maybe,” Jimin shrugs. “But the hard stuff, not for me. Like you said, I have a lot to lose and with my family, image is everything.”

His words are laced with meaning, so much so that you stare. “So,” you start to say, before stopping. “The photo…?”

“Isn’t true,” Jimin answers.

This seems to floor you, based on your expression and while you’re sitting there, silent, Jimin pushes himself to stand. “I have to go,” he explains, sliding his bag over his shoulder. “Homework and stuff.”

You nod, still dazed by his confession. “Right. That makes sense.”

Jimin waits, certain he could say just about anything right now and you’d agree. There’s this look on your face, the knowledge that you’re blackmailing for something he didn’t even do. It seems to have crossed a line for you, one which wasn’t there before.

Finally, you look up. “Alright. Thank you,” you respond, fingertips white while clutching your notebook.

Jimin softens, and he’s not sure why he does what he does next. “Y/N,” he states, waiting. “Just because something seems perfect, doesn’t mean that it is. Images can be deceiving, you know – I wouldn’t take too much stock in mine.”

You nod, wanting to respond to him but Jimin is already turning away. He slips headphones into his ears, ignoring the pounding rhythm of his own heart and it isn’t long before he’s gone, leaving you sitting alone at the table, wondering what the hell just happened.

• Y/N •

One week later, you’re still wondering.

Lying flat on your back, one arm is flung over your eyes while you attempt to sort through your thoughts. It’s been days, days since meeting Jimin and everything went to hell. You need this story, that much is certain. The time you’ve spent on this paper has taught you lessons in seniority, in tenure, in what it takes to get noticed.

You need the 7 Society, need the hook their name gives. It’s going to be your entryway, a story which will lead you to bigger and better things but in order to get there, you need a foot in the door. That, in addition to the teeny, tiny fact that you already told your editor. Groaning, you flop onto your stomach. Lip held between your teeth, you skim through your notes. It’s been days since you looked at them, really looked because each time you do, you get a little bit nauseous.

This isn’t how things were supposed to be. You and Jimin were supposed to meet, he was supposed to be a dick and you were supposed to force him to help you. Instead, he was nothing like you thought he’d be – maybe a touch arrogant, bit hard to read but overall, he was nice. Snorting out loud, you bury your face in the sheets. You’re lying, plain and simple because Jimin was interesting, intelligent and weirdly enough, seemed to get you. It’s enough that you can’t stop thinking about him, which is the other problem.

It’s all part of his appeal, to be honest and staring down at your notes, you try to make sense of it all. Park Jimin, twenty-two years old, heir to the Park family fortune. His father is the CEO of one of those giant corporations, the conglomerates you’re always surprised to find own both your favorite organic conditioner and the DEET bug spray you protested.

The pages of your notebook are crammed with information, alternating between photos and notes, pictures of the party and observations you made. Even that night, when Jimin bumped into you and spilled your drink, he was entirely apologetic. He said he was sorry, was trying to say more when you abruptly left. The moment replays in your mind, staring down at your notes.

Jimin is a bit of a contradiction. He didn’t seem upset by the photo, making it seem like he doesn’t care about your story. Or maybe he does, and he’s cocky enough to think you can’t touch him. There was the one comment he made, about the men in the 7 being the most powerful in the world. A chill goes down your spine at the thought, since although this might be a deterrent to some, if just spurs you on.

All your life, you’ve hated men like this. Men who can crush, who strangle the happiness out of others for the sake of their own. You know men like that on the paper, at your job, men who ran your after-school care programs and looked the other way while boys had their fun. Men who left your mother when you were little, who taught you to be self-sufficient at a very young age. It’s men like this who fuel your anger, which is part of the reason you want to write this story.

It’s all fake, though. The photo isn’t real, and you can’t help but feel torn by that fact. Jimin doesn’t deserve to be hurt like this, not when he’s done nothing wrong and, shutting your notebook, you lower your head to its cover. You can’t do this to him, you can’t. Though Jimin might be spoiled, smug and a little bit arrogant – he’s not a bad person and realizing this fact, you roll onto your back. This will make you very unpopular with your editor, might even get you kicked off the paper.

It’s a lesson in professionalism, you suppose. Vet your sources, always be certain there’s substance before you announce a story. It’s crappy to learn this through trial and error, and you close your eyes at the thought.

When there’s a knock on your door, you turn your head on the bed. It’s past 8:00 PM, you’re not expecting any company and as you stand from your mattress, they knock again.

“Coming,” you call, padding over to the frame and when you fling open the door, you freeze. “Jimin?”

He stares back, looking woefully out of place in your dormitory hall. “Can I come in?” he asks, peering over your shoulder.

You stand there for a moment, trying to reconcile the sight of him before you shake your head quickly and step aside. “I guess?” you respond, brow creased with confusion.

Jimin walks forward, shoulders brushing for you to fight back a shiver. Weak, you tell yourself, as you shut the door and turn, only to stare at the sight. It’s strange how not strange it is, seeing him there. Jimin fits in your room. When you talked to him before – in the coffee shop, outside the lacrosse stadium – you were very aware then, of who he was. He was Park Jimin, of the Park’s but here in your bedroom, he seems more like a guy.

Then he turns to look at you. Right, a fucking beautiful guy.

“So,” Jimin exhales, shifting his weight backwards. A backpack is slung over his shoulder, he’s wearing a white t-shirt and jeans which both likely cost more than your computer. “You live on campus?”

“Yeah,” you nod, watching him sit on your mattress. Jimin bounces for a second, touching the squishable hedgehog resting on your pillow. “Why?” you ask. “Do you live off?”

Jimin nods, looking at you. “Yeah, since sophomore year. I uh, may have been asked to leave campus.”

“What?” Crossing your arms, you fight back a smile – Jimin’s gaze follows the motion, though you try not to notice. “What did you do?”

“It was a misunderstanding,” Jimin grins, leaning onto his hands. “This senior RA thought I slept with his girlfriend, or something.”

“And?” you prompt. “Did you?”

“I thought they were broken up!” Jimin complains. “How was I supposed to know she was lying?”

Leaning your shoulder to the wall, you look up at the ceiling. “I don’t know, maybe you could have just not fucked your RA’s ex?”

“But where’s the fun in that,” Jimin whines. “She was hot, I was there. Your classic rom-com situation.”

“That’s not,” you stop, shaking your head because it’s not worth the effort. “Nevermind.”

Jimin looks around the room, shifting on top of your bed. Your gaze drops to his legs, which was a mistake, because fuck. He’s pure muscle, from the curved tops of his thighs to those slender hips and shoulders. When your gaze reaches his face, you realize he’s staring as well but rather than be embarrassed, it only makes you more curious.

“Why are you here, Jimin?” you ask.

His hair looks soft, curled against the nape of his neck, in contrast with his body. “I haven’t forgotten about my promise,” Jimin shrugs. “I said I’d help with your story and I can’t imagine you’re giving me much time. All good con artists have a timeline.”

“I’m not a con artist,” you scowl and Jimin grins, taking way too much pleasure in your annoyance. “I just want to tell people the truth.”

His smile lessens, somewhat. “Oh? Does one truth cancel out the other, then?”

You fall silent, because you don’t have an answer to this. Except that you do, and it doesn’t. You won’t write the story like this and you mean to tell him that – but then Jimin stands from your bed. Adjusting the bag on his back, he closes a zipper that’s come undone as he walks.

He comes to a stop before you. “I’ll help with your story, but I want something in return.”

It’s the first time you’ve seen a glimpse of the man people are afraid of. Park Jimin, the infamous Parks, who take what they want and don’t apologize for the action. There’s a hardness to his tone, certain ice in his gaze and you realize Jimin could be dangerous if he wanted to be.

“What do you want?” you ask, lifting your chin.

“My name left out.” Jimin’s jaw tightens. “Along with my family’s name. No one can ever know I was your source, no one can ever trace this back to me. Promise me this, it’s important.”

Slowly, you nod. “Alright.”

“Alright?” Jimin repeats. He clearly thought he’d have to convince you, thought you’d put up a fight, because having an unnamed source is much harder to verify. “Just like that?”

You wonder if you should fight him more on this, but you simply uncross your arms. “Just like that. I’m a very reasonable person, Park Jimin.”

The corner of his mouth quirks. “Oh, I’m sure. You know,” he muses, walking closer, “it’s strange to hear my full name on your lips.”

“Oh?” He stops, much too near to your frame, but you find yourself unable to move away. “Why’s that?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, gaze dropping. “It seems formal, and there are more... informal things I’d like to do to you.”

Your eyes fly open. “W-what?” you stammer.

Jimin smiles, absently. “I shouldn’t like you, should I?”

“I – what?” you repeat, dazed by the implication.

Jimin takes another step closer. His brow furrows. “By all accounts, I should hate you. You semi-stalked me,” he points out. “You took a photo of me in a compromising situation and are using said photo to blackmail me. Not to mention, you’re somewhat abrasive and strange,” he nods. “I should really dislike you.”

Staring back at him, something stirs in your stomach. “But,” you breathe, uncertain what you’re doing, “then... are you saying you don’t?”

Jimin’s eyes glint. “I should dislike you, since you’re threatening everything I have, but that’s the thing – I don’t really care.”

Head spinning, you realize you were right about one thing, when his hand encircles your wrist. Jimin doesn’t care about the life he has, he doesn’t care if your article takes it all away from him. The underlying reason for this intrigues you, but that question will have to wait until later.

“The only reason I care about what you write,” Jimin continues, “is because I know others will care. There are powerful members of the 7, powerful people in my family who want – no, who need – me to be a part of it. Those are the people you should be worried about, not me.”

His words leave you speechless, which is a rarity. Jimin wants you to stop writing because, what – he cares? The thought is foreign and yet, the gaze he’s giving you right now is sincere. It sends you reeling, tangles your thoughts because you keep reminding yourself this isn’t real. This is what Jimin is good at, manipulation, you’ve learned that from your research but still, you can’t help but believe him.

After all, you are still manipulating him, too. Despite your earlier convictions about the decision to pull the story, you haven’t told him.

“I should hate you, shouldn’t I,” Jimin finishes, quiet.

He says this as a statement, but you see his hesitancy and it’s this, more than anything, which throws you. Jimin always seems so sure, like he knows who he is but now he’s staring with more than a little confusion. You two might attend the same school, but before this you existed in separate worlds. His world is one of parties, expectations and duty – before you met, you thought that you hated him. When you did meet, Jimin probably hated you.

Now, though – you suck in your breath, because Jimin’s fingers are tracing gentle patterns on your wrist. Lately, writing has been hard for you. It’s been more work than fun, it’s been about proving yourself to people who don’t matter and lately, you’ve started to wonder if it’s worth it. It’s been so long you’ve worked for the same dream, that sometimes you wonder if you’ve given up too much. Three relationships, all since college and each one failed, for the same reasons. You were never there, never available and each one said you loved your work more than them.

Looking up at Jimin, you see parts of yourself. He has this drive, this ambition to be the best but lacks conviction, something to believe in. As his fingers curl about your wrist, anchoring you closer, it’s alarming how easily his shape seems to fit.

This is when you should tell him, but you don’t. “You should hate me,” you agree. “If you just look at the facts, I’m not a very nice person.”

“Nice,” Jimin exhales, corner of his mouth lifted. “I haven’t heard that word used about me in a long time.”

“I guess we’re the same, then.”

Jimin doesn’t look away. He uses his gaze like a dagger, dragging up the length of your body, caressing your throat. “I guess so,” he acknowledges. The moment lingers, until Jimin shakes his head. “Saturday,” he affirms, letting go of your wrist. “Saturday night, 10:00 PM. Meet me at the side of Capital hall and I’ll hold up my end of the deal.”

“Saturday,” you agree, too distracted by the ghost of his hand on yours. “I – yes.”

Jimin nods, brushing past to open the door. He doesn’t wait for a response, glancing over his shoulder while leaving. “See you then,” he winks, slipping out in the hall.

It’s several minutes before you come back to your senses and when you do, you realize you never told him. Jimin still thinks you’re writing the story and you have no way of telling him otherwise. Aside from meeting him this Saturday night.

It’s unnerving, how much it excites you and when you fall asleep that night, it’s to dreams of strangers and darkness.

Saturday night is clear, if chilly. You stand shivering beneath the boughs of an elm tree, wondering if this was all a mistake. Maybe you misread him, in your room and at the café – worse, maybe Jimin intended you to misread him and this is all a game. He could be setting you up, with no intention of helping and taking a deep breath, you force yourself to stay calm. There’s no reason to freak out.

You shouldn’t feel conviction for a man you don’t know but for some reason you do. Against all better judgement, you trust Park Jimin. Still, the hour is late, the weather is cold and you find yourself wishing you’d brought with you a jacket. Any sort of jacket would work, but you had nothing to match this dress that’s not yours.

It’s Nivea’s, a girl on the paper you get lunch with occasionally. Late last night you showed up at her door, realizing belatedly most people go out on a Friday. She answered the door though, flinging it open to seem somewhat surprised by your presence.

“Y/N!” Nivea smiled, gaze traveling past to the hall. “What’s going on? Did I leave something behind at the paper?”

Cheeks flushed, you realized you might have a problem. If the most logical explanation for your visit was Nivea leaving something behind at the paper, you clearly needed to leave the place more often. “No, no,” you shook your head. “Nothing like that. It’s just – ah, this is awkward, you see…”

When you trailed off, Nivea arched a brow. “Want to come in?”

“Yes, please,” you exhaled, stepping inside.

It only took a few minutes for the story to come out. You liked this guy, he was always well-dressed, and you had nothing to wear on your date. Of course, this wasn’t the real story, but you could hardly tell Nivea the truth. Her eyes lit up was you spoke though, and by the end of your sentence she was clapping her hands.

“Of course!” Nivea gushed, flinging open her closet. “I love to play fairy godmother, it gives me everything I love; fashion, plus an insane amount of control. Let’s see,” she tutted, pulling out a dress to examine. “Pink? No? I’ll admit,” Nivea laughed, rummaging in the back. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as the type to overthink what to wear on a date.”

“I’m not, really,” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck. “I don’t know, I kind of want to surprise him.”

“Hm.” Nivea stared, squinting. “Well, can’t argue with that. Turn around,” she motioned, and the night flowed from there. Two hours later, you were leaving her room with a dress, red lipstick and a promise to take pictures.

A promise you’ll unfortunately have to break but there’s also the lunch date you made for Monday, one you’re determined to keep. It’s been too long since you hung out like that, you’ve been so caught up in work and the paper that somewhere along the way, you forgot to have a life.

You’re wearing Nivea’s dress, standing beneath the giant elm tree and slowly freezing your ass off. Earlier you tamed your hair into submission, arranging it to flow in gentle curls down your back. You even managed to squeeze into this dress, the more modest of Nivea’s options – though even this shows more skin than you’re used to. The hemline is mid-thigh, with a scoop neck and low back which need constant adjusting.

You’re so concentrated, you don’t even notice when Jimin taps you on the shoulder. “Hey,” he greets and the moment you turn, his eyes widen with shock. The awe disappears quickly, smoothing out in a smile but his lingering look that he gives you sends sparks zipping over your skin.

“Hey,” Jimin blinks, repeating himself. “Hi.”

You smile, because in the entirety you’ve known him, Jimin has never fumbled for words. They’ve always come naturally to him, but right now appear to be absent.

“You look nice,” you say because he does, this is true. Jimin is wearing an all-black tuxedo, blonde hair pushed back from his face in devastating fashion.

He arches a brow. “What, this old thing?”

“Old,” you scoff, scanning his torso. “I will give you one hundred dollars, if you tell me you’ve worn that before.”

“To quote Kim Seokjin,” Jimin sighs, offering you his arm, “anything off the rack is already old.”

“Who’s Seokjin?”

Jimin laughs, pulling you close as he walks towards the hall. “Please, say that to him.”

Capital hall is a stately building, looming high while you reach the side door. Craning to look over your shoulder, you come to a stop beside Jimin. “Uh,” you blink, when he knocks on the door. “Jimin, I think this is a side entrance. I saw people going in over th –”

The door creaks open, only a crack. “Password?”

This silences your response, glancing wide-eyed at Jimin. It shouldn’t shock you, since there was a similar set-up on the boat but then, you doubt you’ll ever get used to this sort of thing.

“Luceo non uro,” Jimin answers.

The door closes before you, sounds of unlocking within.

Turning your head, you take in Jimin’s profile. “What does it mean?”

He remains facing forward. “I shine, not burn. My friends are going through a Latin phase,” Jimin grumbles, rolling his eyes.

“I shine, not burn,” you repeat, while the door swings open. “I like it.”

Jimin enters the doorway, leading you on. “Do you?” he muses. “You’re easy to please, once you get past the whole blackmail thing.”

“Jimin!” you hiss. Glancing sideways, it appears no one heard and you slowly relax into the crook of his arm.

Door thudding shut, Jimin leads you down the hall. “Kidding,” he grins, face half-hidden by shadow. “At least you have something you’re working towards, which is admirable. That’s more than can be said of me.”

He stops before the next set of doors, one hand resting on the handle and without stopping to think, you lay your hand over his. “Jimin,” you state, while he looks up in surprise. “You have more to offer than you think you do.”

Jimin just stares. “I didn’t think you saw me like that,” he murmurs, bending so that some hair falls into his gaze. “I thought I was ‘just another rich asshole, screwing my way to the top’?”

The hall around you seems to fade, heart thrumming much too loud in your ear. “You,” you exhale, licking your lips. “You read my notebook?”

For that’s what he just quoted, a private observation from the party when you saw Jimin disappear with those girls. You wrote that note quickly, didn’t tell anyone – and slowly, understanding dawns. That day in your room, when Jimin stood up from your bed, he was zippering his bag shut. He must have grabbed your notebook and though you kind of want to yell at him, you also kind of want to laugh. It was a ballsy move, that’s for sure.

Jimin’s eyes glimmer. “What a terrible invasion of privacy, I know,” he deadpans. “I suppose you’re not the only one with leverage now.”

Staring back at him, you fight your smile. "Huh,” you return, facing forward. “An interesting observation. Lead the way, Park.”

He grins, taking your elbow to push open the doors. You should be angry, should be furious but instead, you find yourself feeling somewhat relieved. There’s some embarrassment, sure, because your observations were less than kind but mostly, you feel relief. You may have been the bad guy before, but now you’re even.

Walking through the doors, all thoughts of the notebook fall quickly from mind. The room around you is beautiful and though you’ve been in Capital hall before, you’ve never seen this. “What is this place?” you ask, twisting around to look.

Jimin continues to walk, leading you through the shadowy bodies. “Cope and Stewardson,” he nods at the ceiling. It’s intricately carved, spiraling out to reach etchings on the walls. “A Philadelphia architecture firm known for classic, Gothic architecture style exemplified throughout many East coast collegiate campuses. The ceiling was a surprise, a gift from one of the architects to the Dean. Rumor has it,” Jimin continues, winding his way through the crowd, “he was in love with him.”

“I see,” you whisper, staring up in awe. “Why is this room kept a secret? I’ve been here many times, but never heard it discussed.”

Jimin’s answering smile is wicked. “It’s amazing what money will keep hidden, isn’t it?”

“Prick,” you mutter, much to Jimin’s amusement. The room is beautiful though, as is the crowd and not for the first time, you’re grateful for Nivea’s help. In a room full of strangers, at least you don’t stand out. Or, this is what you’re thinking until Jimin leans in.

“People are staring,” he murmurs, pulling you closer.

“Oh?” you blurt, looking up in alarm. “Why, because they don’t know me? How can I fix it?”

“Well,” Jimin sighs. “You could start by not having dressed like that.”

“Like what?” you hiss, glancing sideways.

Meeting Jimin’s gaze, he smiles. “Like the most beautiful woman in the room.”

There’s a pause, while his words sink in – you let yourself bask in his glow, allow yourself to fall headlong into his gaze, before forcing yourself away. “Do you find,” you comment, continuing to walk, “that pretty words tend to get you what you want?”

Jimin follows you, laughing. “Usually,” he admits. “Though admittedly, this doesn’t seem to be the case with you.” Coming to a stop at another door, he looks your way. “After you.”

The doors are heavy, solid oak which take a moment to open and once you do, you find yourself facing a library. You hear, rather than see when Jimin shuts the doors behind you; the sounds of the party are cut off abruptly, leaving you in silence and taking a step, you turn around in a circle.

“Lovely,” you breathe, because it is. The books are hidden, kept here to keep students from touching – which, naturally, makes you want to run your hands all over them. When you glance over your shoulder to look at him though, you find Jimin still hasn’t moved. “Where are we?” you ask.

“Rare books library.”

“I see,” you nod, returning your gaze to the tomes. “And why are we here?”

Jimin regards you thoughtfully, biting his lip. “Well,” he sighs, pushing himself off the door. “You said you wanted a story, I’m here to deliver.”

Your heart sinks at this, because it’s no longer what you want. Somewhere along the way, you stopped caring about how Jimin can help you and just wanted to be near him. That’s why you didn’t tell him about the story, you realize. You wanted to see him tonight, wanted to keep seeing him, no matter the cost.

Jimin stops before you. “I have something to show you,” he confesses.

A shiver goes down your spine. “What?”

Lifting a finger to his lips, Jimin indicates silence before grabbing your hand to tug you sideways. You would protest but frankly, you enjoy the feel of his hand on your skin. His warm fingers wrap in yours, sending a shock up your spine.

Winding his way through the stacks, Jimin leads until you find yourself wishing you’d brought a ball of twine. “Where are we going?” you groan, as Jimin turns to face you.

He arches a brow, unamused by your impatience. “Sh,” he repeats, before turning around. He continues, leading you forward until the two of you reach the end of a hall. There’s nowhere to continue, except for the door on your right.

Jimin stops, glancing down the hall to return to you. “Take out your phone,” he instructs, barely audible.

“Why?” you whisper, but obey all the same.

“Just look,” Jimin murmurs, placing his hand on the knob. He twists silently, pushing open the door to ensure ensuring nothing squeaks. When it’s open a rack and you can see what’s inside, it’s a difficult thing to stifle your gasp of surprise.

Professor Nam. You recognize him from your run-in at the coffee shop, but you would have known him before. Jimin might be his TA, but Professor Nam is well-known on his own. He’s the owner of several large publishing companies, an incredibly powerful man both at the University and outside it. Right now, though, the sight of him just makes you sick because kneeling before him is a girl. Not just any girl, one you recognize as a freshman on the paper. You can’t recall having spoken, just that she seemed kind of young and naïve. She doesn’t seem this way anymore, with her mouth wrapped around his dick.

Almost on auto-pilot, you press the capture button. Barely aware of what you’re doing, you document the scene and stumble away from the hall. Jimin is right, this is a story and – more than a little nauseous at the fact – you turn yourself away from the sight. Jimin closes the door behind you, following when you start to walk away. You keep on walking, completely silent until reaching the first room that you entered and then turn, shoving Jimin’s back to the wall.

“What the hell,” you hiss, inches away from his face. “Why bring me here, what was that?’

Jimin allows himself to be manhandled, though his eyes narrow in response. "It’s the story I promised,” he returns. “That’s it.”

Slowly, you release him, taking a step back. You understand now – Jimin promised you a story, not your story, not the 7 Society. He just promised you a story, and he delivered. Jimin is right, the 7 Society is a fluff piece at best, unless you can piece together the corruption and greed which surround it. You can’t right now, meaning it’s unsubstantial. This story though, there’s clear proof of misconduct.

A professor, sleeping with his student. Glancing down at your phone, you begin to realize the implications. “You lied,” you reiterate, unsure why this keeps sticking in your throat.

Jimin’s gaze softens. “I couldn’t let you run that story.”

All his reasons come back, the most striking of which was the story was dangerous. In his own, weird way, Jimin tried to protect you. He knows this world better than you, and he knows what would happen if you wrote that story.

“I wasn’t going to write it,” you shoot back, uncertain why you care. It hardly matters, but you need him to hear. “The article, I mean, I wasn’t going to write it. You were right, blackmail isn’t how I want to start my career.”

Refusing to look away from you, a muscle in Jimin’s jaw ticks. “Oh?” he responds, taking a step. “You expect me to believe that? Your words don’t really line up with your actions, Y/N.”

“I,” you hesitate, unsure what to say. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I meant to, when you came to my room but, I don’t know – I just didn’t.”

You realize how close he is now, how little space there is between you. The tips of Jimin’s shoes brush yours, lips within kissing distance of your own.

“Putting all that aside,” Jimin allows. “You have your story. Professor Nam has been fucking that student all semester, she currently has an A despite turning in zero homework assignments. It’s a great story, Y/N, you have to admit.”

“It is,” you admit, dropping to a whisper. “How did you know?”

“I TA for him,” Jimin reminds. “I noticed the discrepancy in her grade but when I tried to fix it, Professor Nam changed it back. I figured it out later, overheard them planning to get together tonight.”

“I see,” you respond, staring back. It’s true, it’s the perfect story to get your foot in the door; if Jimin can give you proof of missing grades, it’s undeniable evidence. “But… why?” you ask, your confusion growing. “Why are you helping me?”

Jimin shrugs. “A blackmailer is more likely to agree to a win-win scenario. This way, everyone goes home happy; you get your story, my name remains clear. Is there a problem with that?”

“I,” you pause, gaze flicking down the hall. “It’s not entirely win-win. Professor Nam will lose his job, it will hurt his wife and daughter.”

“Ah,” Jimin responds, words tight. “So now you’re concerned about his feelings.”

The implication being that you don’t care about his own and, chin jerking up, you take a step forward. “Listen,” you huff. “I already told you I wasn’t writing the article. Why do you think I didn’t notice my notes had gone missing? It’s because I haven’t been looking at them, I’ve been avoiding the story!”

Pausing, Jimin seems taken aback. “That’s true,” he muses. “You seem like the type of person to notice their notes are gone.”

“Believe what you want about me,“ you snap. “I know the truth and I wasn’t going to write it. If it makes you feel better, if it helps you sleep at night to imagine me the villain, then by all means –”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jimin interrupts, stopping your rant.

Stumbling to a halt, your chest rises and falls. “I – what?”

Sensing he’s hit upon something important, Jimin tilts his head to one side. “Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t writing the story, Y/N? Why keep up the charade?”

Unable to come up with a suitable response, you blink. “I – because, I don’t know.”

“You don’t?” Jimin considers. “If you tell me, I’ll tell you why I helped you find another story. You know, instead of just threatening you.”

“There was another reason?” you respond, barely able to concentrate with him so close. He seems earnest, though and for some reason you think back to the moment in your room, when he said that he liked you.

“I should hate you, shouldn’t I?” you whisper, eyes dropping to his lips.

The corner of Jimin’s mouth lifts. “Oh? Why’s that?”

“Well,” you exhale, startled when his hands find your arms. “You lied to me, stole from me, took the story I wanted to tell and replaced it with another. That’s just for starters.”

Jimin’s hand skim your arms, lifting into your hair. “Borrowed,” he corrects, smile flitting over his lips. “Borrowed your notebook, with every intention of returning. I just wanted to see what you wrote about me.”

“Oh?” you ask, hypnotized by his touch. “And what did you find?”

“I found out that you hated me. At first,” Jimin adds, a caveat.

“I should still,” you return, just as softly.

“And do you?”

“No.”

You don’t know who moves first, you or Jimin, but somehow his hands are fisting in your hair, while your lips bruise between his. His kiss is desperate, catastrophic and you feel yourself careening over an edge but can’t find it in yourself to care. Your hands clutch hard at his waist, just as consuming as he.

His words are muffled, pushed between teeth and tongue. “Y/N,” Jimin groans, “I want,” his thumb brushes your collarbone, “you,” he inhales, “so fucking badly.”

“Ah,” you moan, unable to think around the press of his lips, “same.”

“Good,” he grunts, hands sliding down to your hips. “Turn around. Face the wall.”

You obey, touching your hands to the panel while Jimin steps up to press himself from behind. His fingers trace your arms, sliding down to your front. “I meant what I said,” he murmurs, lips brushing your shoulder. “I’m not nice, Y/N, I never have been.”

“Oh?” you shiver, when his fingers dip lower. “You think I was lying?”

“No,” Jimin agrees, pushing the silk of your dress between your legs. His fingers brush over your sex, teasing in slow, gentle circles. “It makes me feel better, for all the awful things I want to do with you tonight.”

There’s not time to respond, before he flips you over and your back hits the wall. “What do you want me to do?” you breathe, staring up at him.

Jimin’s answering smile is angelic. “Where’s the fun in telling?” he murmurs, fingers sliding low to your wrists. “Come on,” he exhales, pushing open the door to the main room. “I want you naked in my bed, and I won’t be kept waiting.”

Rolling your eyes, you let yourself be pulled. “Won’t be kept waiting,” you repeat, while he leads through the party. “We’ll see about that.”

Jimin stops abruptly, pulling you to him. “You would do that?” he purrs, all silk and sweetness. “You wouldn’t be so cruel, would you, Y/N?” His fingers drift down to your sides. “You wouldn’t be so cold.”

All retorts die when Jimin spins you, hungry lips crushing to yours in a kiss. He coaxes you open before him, hands sliding lower to cup your ass. “Come on,” Jimin exhales, breaking away and re-grabbing your hand.

Though you scowl, you follow because fuck, is your heart racing. The other people in the room are barely visible, too focused on the sight of Jimin’s ass in those pants, his right hand in yours and the next thing you know, you’re standing out on the curb, Jimin beside you, squinting down at his phone while slipping one arm around your waist.

“Two minutes,” Jimin announces, looking up. “Greg is completing a ride nearby.”

“Greg?” you echo. “You ordered an Uber? Huh. I would’ve thought Park Jimin had his own, personal driver.”

Grinning, Jimin drops his phone into his pocket before removing his jacket. “It’s an Uber Black, if that helps.”

“Kind of.”

Shrugging his jacket onto his shoulder, Jimin just smiles when the black Mercedes S-560 rolls up to the curb. He steps forward first, opening to door to allow entrance and once you’re settled inside, Jimin follows. “Park place,” he announces, at the driver. “How are you doing tonight, Greg?”

The man – Greg, presumably – nods in hello. “Not too bad, yourself?”

As the car pulls away from the curb, Jimin gently lowers his jacket over your lap. “Not bad at all,” he answers, fingers drifting along the edge of your knee. “Busy night, tonight?”

When the driver responds, Jimin’s hand slips under his jacket. Your eyes widen, realizing what he’s doing; your dress is already half-bunched at your waist, lifted and scrunched from climbing into the car. Jimin’s fingers move gently, coaxing your legs apart on the seat and you squirm at the touch, biting down on your lip when his thumb brushes your panties. Hearing the noise you make in your throat, Jimin turns his head in disapproval.

Leaning in, his lips touch your ear. “No noise,” Jimin whispers, “or I’ll stop. So,” he announces, smiling at the front. “What’s the strangest thing that’s ever happened in your car?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve seen…”

Pulling your panties aside, Jimin slips a finger in between your legs – his jaw slackens, at the touch of your arousal. “That so?” Jimin manages to respond, though the sound is strangled. Turning to look at you, his gaze burns while his hand slides lower, ghosting over your slickness.

Trying not to whimper, you shift your hips on the seat. Up ahead, your driver is going on about the time some girl puked in his car, and Jimin takes as his opportunity to slip a finger inside. Clasping one hand over your mouth, you stifle a groan when he curls his digit upwards.

Arching his brow, Jimin continues to watch. “God, what a mess,” he sighs. “That must have been incredibly frustrating.”

The driver agrees and Jimin starts to rub gentle circles on your clit. Fuck, you mouth, head hitting the seat while your hips rock into his palm. Jimin smiles at the sight, sliding his finger in and out while continuing to make pleasant conversation with the driver. You grab onto his knee, squeezing tight for each stroke that he makes and Jimin slows himself marginally, languidly exploring your body. His fingers trail around your entrance, up your cunt, until your entire body is shaking and you can’t help but moan.

Jimin’s withdrawal is abrupt, sinking back on the seat. “Disappointing,” he remarks to the driver, though he’s looking at you. As you continue to watch, Jimin brings a glistening finger to his mouth and sucks. “You must have been close,” he comments, sliding the digit from his mouth to look forward.

“I was,” Greg laughs, continuing to drive. “Honestly, I nearly –”

Eyes narrowed, your gaze drifts from Jimin’s smug expression downwards. He’s half-hard, straining against his pants, a fact which makes you smile. At least he’s not entirely unaffected by the situation, judging from the state of his hard-on.

“Anyways,” the driver continues, car pulling to a stop. “Thanks for riding, you two. Your place is on the right.”

Jimin nods, tugging your skirt down with agile fingers. “Pleasure’s mine,” he allows, pushing open the door. “Y/N, are you ready?”

Still glaring, you tug your dress lower while scooting outside. “I’m fine,” you huff, stepping out on the curb. The air outside is chilly, enough that you’re shivering before Jimin places his arm around you again. He leads you into his building, waving to the doorman and walking you back past the mailroom.

Inside the elevator, Jimin stops beside you. “Did you enjoy that?” he murmurs, continuing to face forward. “Did you like being fingered in public like that, Y/N?”

“Yes,” you whisper, cheeks enflamed at the thought. “I liked it a lot.”

“Mm,” Jimin sighs, satisfied. “I thought you would. I think you’ll like a lot of things we do tonight, Y/N.”

“What,” you pause, licking your lips. “What sorts of things?”

Jimin just smiles. “Tell me a fantasy you have.”

Heat spirals through your core, wicked and wanton. “I don’t know,” you whisper, eyes wide. Truthfully, you have a lot of fantasies but haven’t ever voiced them out loud. No one’s ever asked before.

Seeing your expression, Jimin turns. “Hey,” he murmurs, coming to stand before you. “Don’t worry. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to.”

Staring back, his gaze is calming enough that you blurt, “Sensory deprivation.”

Jimin’s gaze darkens. “Oh?”

Rather shakily, you nod. “I – blindfolds and uh, other things.”

“Hm,” Jimin muses, his smile delicate. “I know.”

Then the elevator chimes, doors opening as Jimin takes your hand and pulls you out in the hall. His apartment is at the end and as he opens the door, you can’t help but stare. It’s a surreal moment, watching Jimin flick on the lights, dump his jacket on a chair, toss his keys on the counter.

The apartment is spacious, full of dark wooden floors and floor-to-ceiling windows. It lets in the night, lighting the place with cityscape and moonbeams. The apartment itself is sparse, elegantly designed in shades of charcoal and blue – it fits Jimin, somehow and when he notices you staring, he comes to a stop in the kitchen.

“Something wrong?” he asks, rolling up a sleeve.

“I was just thinking,” you hesitate. “It’s strange that I’m here.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment, leaning both hands on the counter. “Why, because of how we met?”

“Well,” you pause, then nod. “Yeah, kind of.”

Without removing his gaze, Jimin walks around the counter. “I guess,” he admits, stopping before you. “Everyone’s story has a beginning – but that’s hardly the most important part.”

The corner of your mouth twitches, since it sounds like something a writer would say. “I suppose.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Jimin admits, “but that goes without saying. I find you interesting,” he amends, cocking his head. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

“Wow,” you respond dryly. “Thanks.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Jimin laughs. “You were right when you said I’m surrounded by opportunity. I’ve never gone hungry, never had to wonder where the rent money was coming from. Even with that though, I’ve only ever had certain kinds of opportunities – not particularly moral ones, at that.” Falling silent, Jimin seems to remember. “I did a lot of things which left me hollow. But,” he continues, “this was before I met you.”

You have nothing to say to this, since it’s too strange to consider yourself an influence. You, an influence on him. Jimin reaches out for your hands, seeming unable to keep from touching you, his fingertips sliding up the expanse of your skin.

“You care about your writing, your stories,” Jimin continues. “I’m not sure I’ve ever cared about anything the way that you do. I want to,“ he hesitates, glancing up. "I care about you. And I don’t want to analyze that fact.”

The air between you thickens, silent but for the sound of your breath and the tick of his clock. “Kiss me,” you whisper, tilting up your chin.

Jimin doesn’t hesitate, lips descending as his arms wrap greedily around you. He pushes you back against his counter, hips digging to yours while his hands slide into your hair. Jimin isn’t gentle with his kiss; he demands what he gives, and what he gives you is fierce. The moment he pulls back for air, you undo the straps of your dress.

Gaze heated, Jimin’s pupils dilate at your exposure. “Fuck,” he mutters, dragging his gaze back to yours. “My room, now.”

When you nod, he grabs for your hand and tugs you off down the hall. “This way,” Jimin murmurs, leading you inside a room on the right and shutting the door behind you.

His bedroom is the same as the rest, decorated in shades of smooth wood and glass. When you turn to look at him, Jimin is already removing his tie and, while you continue to watch, he unbuttons buttons of his shirt until it falls to the floor.

Walking towards you, Jimin keeps his pants on. “Do you still want this?” he asks, sliding his tie between his palms.

“Yes,” you exhale.

“Good.” Jimin looks at the foot of his bed. “Sit.”

Heart racing, you move to lower yourself to the mattress – palms lying flat on the bedspread until Jimin follows to lower one knee on the sheets. His first kiss is gentle, a molding of mouths until you grow hungry and a soft moan escapes. Jimin breaks away at the sound, descending your neck to tug at your bra.

“Ah,” you gasp, when Jimin undoes the clasp. “Jimin.”

He continues, mouth closing around your nipple while you reach for his pants. He slaps your hand, pushing you back on the bed and straddling you fully. Continuing to kiss, his fingers trace over your nipples until you’re arching against him and then he pulls himself away.

Jimin reveals the silk tie in his hands. “Yes?” he affirms.

You nod. "Please.”

Inhaling, Jimin lifts your head to gently tie the fabric over your eyes. It shuts out the room and when you can’t see a thing, his lips slowly descend your body. Mouth trailing your chest, his thumbs brush over your skin while his lips find your legs. At your panties, he stops and you feel Jimin’s weight lift from the bed.

He must kneel because his hands return at your knees, pushing your legs apart on the floor. “Fuck, Y/N,” Jimin moans, bending until his lips touch your thighs. His mouth ghosts over your panties, not pulling them aside. “You look so beautiful.”

“Jimin,” you whimper, arching your back. “I need more.”

Chuckling, he pulls your panties sideways. “Too bad you’re not the one in charge, hm?”

It’s unexpected, the suddenness with which he yanks your panties down. Cold air touches your legs, until his mouth closes hot on your sex. You gasp, arching upwards while Jimin’s hands pin you flat to the bed. “Fuck,” you choke, when he slips in two fingers – the sensation is unbearable, after so much denial.

Jimin softens, giving slow licks to your clit while his fingers curl upwards. He pushes your hips down, spreading your legs to draw noise from your throat. “Jimin,” you gasp, grinding your hips into him, “don’t stop.”

Lips curving into a smile, Jimin nods. His nose brushes your clit and then he’s sucking, fingers plunging back inside you.

“Jimin,” you gasp. You attempt to ride out the rhythm but it’s hard, without seeing what he’s doing. He keeps changing the tempo, alternating in a way that’s driving you crazy. He brings you to the edge, over and over until your entire body is shaking with need.

“Not yet,” Jimin muses, at your expression. He slides his fingers out, using them to circle your already wet clit. “You don’t get to come, not yet.”

Still unable to see him, you feel his lips brush your hip, drifting higher until he comes to a stop at your mouth. “Will you be a good girl,” Jimin purrs, “and help me, Y/N? Will you take my dick in your mouth?”

Mouth watering, you nod; Jimin exhales in approval before unbuckling his belt to drop this onto the floor. The bed dips when he rejoins, kneeling on either side of your chest. His cock first touches your cheek, smearing pre-cum to your lips before you open your mouth to take him inside.

Jimin hisses, seeing your lips wrapped around his cock. “Shit,” he moans, jerking up when you suck.

It’s different like this, both your arms pinned by his thighs and unable to move. Hollowing your cheeks, you take him further and when Jimin thrusts into your mouth, he makes a groan of approval.

“Shit, baby,” he pants, hands dropping to your hair. He must be curved over your body, hips thrusting into your mouth while his hands grip the sheets. His cock is so deep, hitting the back of your throat for your eyes to mist with tears. When one slides down your cheek, Jimin catches it with his thumb. “Too much?” he murmurs, forcing himself still.

Though you shake your head no, Jimin slides himself out with a pop. “No,” you gasp, able to speak but Jimin just tuts.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, bringing his hands down your front to open your legs with one hand. “You’re already so swollen, baby, I just want to fuck you.”

“Oh,” you exhale, squirming beneath him. “Yes, please.”

Jimin chuckles at your response. “That’s it, baby,” he muses, lifting you higher on his bed. “Why don’t we remove this blindfold, hm? I want to see you,” he confesses, hands gently working the knot.

When the room comes into view, silk dropped from your eyes, it’s hard to concentrate because Jimin is kneeling, cock hard and glistening with your saliva. It makes you want him in your mouth, but you forget this entirely when you look over the rest of him. Every inch of perfection, from Jimin’s long, lean muscles to that blonde hair falling into his gaze.

Catching you staring, Jimin smiles. “Believe me,” he murmurs, dragging a finger up your sex, “the feeling is mutual.”

Bending to his end table, Jimin grabs a condom from a drawer to tear open the foil. He rolls this onto himself, hand stroking swiftly down the hard length of his cock. Watching him do this, you find you can’t look away.

Jimin sees where you’re staring. “Masturbation?” he asks, reaching our for your hand. Bringing your fingers to your clit, he rubs slow, gentle circles. “Mm,” he notes, seeing your eyes darken with pleasure. “Maybe next time, baby. Right now, I’m impatient and want you to lie on your front.”

Nodding, you roll over and once you’re in place, Jimin straddles you from behind. With your legs pushed between him, it’s nearly impossible to move and Jimin brings his hand to your ass. “Ah,” he exhales, grabbing hold of his dick to slide up and down your opening. “Such a tight pussy, Y/N. Do you want me? Tell me how much.”

“So much, Jimin,” you groan, pushing your ass into his hands. “Please, fuck me.”

“Good,” Jimin agrees before entering you in one, smooth motion.

He fills you entirely, making you gasp – your back arches, at the sudden feeling of fullness. Grabbing onto your hips, Jimin stills and you realize he’s thrown off as well when you hear his breathing. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasps, grip near-bruising. “You’re so tight. Fucking amazing, the sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.”

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” you retort, though you’re unable to keep still when he slides back inside you.

“I do,” Jimin grunts, thrusting again, to make both of you groan. “This time I mean it, though.”

“Ah,” you gasp, when he slams into you once more. “Excuse me, if I don’t believe you.”

“Oh,” Jimin chuckles, bending forward. “Believe it, baby. I’m about to fucking come, that’s how tight you are – tell me something unsexy. I need it, I swear.”

Squeezing your ass, he slowly withdraws, only to slam back again in a now-punishing rhythm. “Ah,” you moan, closing your eyes. “My closet is full of cardigans.”

“Not helping,” Jimin groans, “all I want to do is tie you up with one. Fuck you senseless, and leave bite marks on your inner thighs.”

His words leave you gasping, hands fisting in the sheets. “This is my only thong, everything else is high-waisted!”

“But,” Jimin murmurs, spanking you roughly, “what an ass beneath them. Not working, Y/N.”

“I,” you moan, when he tugs on your hair and starts fucking you – hard. “I masturbated to you, that night on the boat.”

Jimin’s hips stutter, resuming their motion. “Y/N,” he hisses, “that’s so fucking hot – that’s the opposite of what I asked.”

Turning around to look at him, you meet his gaze and smile. “I mean it,” you respond sweetly. “I didn’t even wait until I got home, I just found a bathroom stall.”

Jimin’s hair falls damply into his gaze. “Fuck, Y/N,” he grunts, grabbing hold of your ass. “That’s so hot – I’m,” he breaks off, cock hitting your walls in thrust after thrust. His hips leave you trembling, shaking beneath him while your clit slides over the sheets.

The sensation is too much, you’re already half-gone and when Jimin chokes out your name, you come apart in response. It seems like ages before you come down, before he pulls out of your body and rolls off the bed. Jimin exhales, gently sliding a hand up your leg before retreating to the bathroom. Falling onto your side, you curl up in his sheets and wait for him to return.

Jimin reenters quickly, pausing in the door. “Do you,” he hesitates, almost unsure. “Do you have anywhere to be tonight?”

Staring back, your heart starts to sink. “I,” you swallow, trying not to show your uncertainty. “If this was just sex, that’s fine, Jimin. I can leave if you want, don’t dance around the question.”

Jimin’s eyes widen. “No,” he responds, oddly insistent.

“No?” you repeat.

Jimin shakes his head, crossing the room to stop at the side of his bed. He’s naked, a fact which should be awkward, but somehow isn’t. “I don’t,” Jimin hesitates, squinting down. “I’m not the type of guy who has girls stay the night.”

Heart sinking, you begin to feel naked – of course, you misunderstood him. That wasn’t a no, stay; it was a no, don’t get the wrong idea. This was just sex, and of course you should leave. Glancing around for your clothes, you remember they fell in his kitchen but when you try to get up, Jimin grabs for your hand.

Staring at his fingers wrapped in yours, your brow furrows in response.

“Sorry,” Jimin winces. “That came out wrong again. The last time a girl stayed at my place, I was probably wasted. I’m not drunk now though, and I want you to stay.”

His expression looks pained, but you imagine this is because this is the least eloquent Jimin has ever sounded. “Are you... sure?” you ask, fear uncurling in your stomach.

Jimin nods. “I’m sure.”

Warmth settles over your body, as you nod. “Okay, I’ll stay.”

Jimin smiles. “Okay,” he grins, turning away from the bed. Walking over to his dresser, his dick swings and you snort into your hand, stifling a laugh. “I wouldn’t laugh, Y/N,” Jimin calls back. “That dick was making you see stars a few minutes ago, it can do it again.”

Grinning, you scoot back on his bed. “I’m counting on it,” you inform, catching the t-shirt he throws at you. “Thank you.”

“Welcome,” Jimin grunts, shimmying boxers up his thighs to return to the mattress. “Scoot over,” he whines, pushing your hip. “That’s my spot.”

“Your spot?” you laugh, though you move. “Your spot is in the middle of the bed?”

“Yeah,” Jimin grins, wrapping his arms around you from behind. “So’s yours.”

“Oh, the cheese,” you complain, though you’re smiling.

Jimin’s arms tighten, pulling you closer and it isn’t long before you’re both fast asleep.

• JIMIN •

Waking the next morning, Jimin sees his phone vibrating on the nightstand. It’s too early to be up and, cracking open one eye, Jimin’s plan is to ignore it until he sees the name of who’s calling. Taehyung. Knowing Jimin’s best friend, he could be calling from jail, so Jimin rolls reluctantly from bed to grab for his phone. By some miracle, you continue to sleep – Jimin smiles at your shape before disappearing into the hall.

“Hello?” he whispers, not wanting to wake you. Last night was the best night of his life and fuck, if Jimin is going to screw that up now.

Taehyung snorts. “Why’re you whispering, man? Sneaking out of someone’s apartment?”

“Uh,” Jimin mumbles around his yawn. “Yeah, something like that. What’s up?”

“You hear about Professor Nam?”

At the name, Jimin glances over his shoulder. “No. What about him?”

“Well,” Taehyung drawls, clearly enjoying the drama. “Rumor has it, the editor of the school paper has a scoop from a writer. Nam was boning some freshman, got caught on camera and it seems clear he’ll be fired. Terrible situation, just awful.”

Jimin stands frozen; he nearly laughs out loud, once he realizes what’s happened because fuck, when did you even have time to send an email? Smile growing, Jimin realizes dating you won’t ever be boring. “Huh,” he shrugs, aiming for nonchalant. “What a bummer.”

“A bummer,” Taehyung repeats, stifling his chuckle. “You know who Nam is, don’t play dumb, Jimin. He’s one of the 7 and if the scandal breaks the way I think it will, he’ll be kicked out. Which means a new member of the 7 will be inducted.”

Jimin’s jaw tightens, in response. “I guess,” he responds, stomach twisting with guilt. “Didn’t think about that.”

“Oh, shut up,” Taehyung scoffs. “If Nam is out, we all know who’s next on the list.”

Jimin doesn’t respond – he doesn’t need to, they both know it’s him.

“Anyways,” Taehyung coughs, as horns honk in the background. “Just wanted to call and congratulate before the Society gets off their fat asses and tells you themselves. Cheers mate – hope someone sucks your dick good today.”

Before Jimin can even respond, Taehyung hangs up the phone. Setting the device on the counter, Jimin lowers his face to his hands. It seems his calculation is true, Nam was a part of the 7. Jimin had his suspicions before but he was not certain. This was a large part of the reason he pointed you in Nam’s direction. His father will be pleased, to have Nam kicked out and a spot open up. Now, though – Jimin’s stomach sinks, as he realizes the coming implication.

Nam is out. Jimin is in.

As though on cue, Jimin’s phone rings on the counter.

“Hello?” Jimin answers, staring out the window.

“Park Jimin, welcome to The 7 Society.”

[ Master List ]

#jimin smut #bts smut #jimin fanfic #bts fanfic #jimin au #bts au

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hollandroos · 6 years ago

Text

The Price We Pay | Five

Series Masterlist

Summary: A one night stand was all it took for your entire life to change. You’re shoved into unknown territory, agreeing to fake date the prince long enough for his parents and the media to get off of his back only there are a few issues… one of them being that you really can’t stand each other.

Words: 4048

Warnings: Drinking.

Amazing moodboard by @sithskywalkers

The next time you went to the castle you’d admit that you were a lot more nervous then the first time.

Because while the first time meant meeting Toms parents and having dinner with his parents– the king and queen, the second time meant that you would have to show off and flaunt in front of hundreds of guests which was something you most definitely did not want to do on a Thursday evening.

No– you’d much rather be curled up in your apartment with a tub of ice cream and a book in hand but instead, you were about to get your hair, makeup and outfit picked out by your pretend boyfriends best friend. You were going to be poked and prodded at with flat irons and curling wands and nail polish brushes and mascara. Great.

It sounded like a child's dream really, but not yours. Nope.

The place was still as big as it was the first time you arrived and you greeted every one of the staff with a small smile, some with a wave of your hand which was something that Tom didn’t do. He kept a somehow straight face.

You had to think about how much the two of you had overcome since ‘getting together’. At first, he seemed grumpy, tense and like you were simply a cover-up for his little games that he never should’ve been playing.

But slowly Tom had allowed himself to relax. He began to let his hair down around you. He learned that there was more to life then keeping up a damn reputation.

You, however, hadn’t changed.

You were the same stubborn girl he woke up to the day after the one night stand that the two of you even refused to talk about. Tom liked the fire in your eyes and skip in your step and the sense of freedom it bought him. He enjoyed the light and love and comfort that your family home bought him that the palace he’d live in for over twenty years couldn’t even bring him.

You’d taken steps. Holding hands now felt okay, even intertwining fingers and him pulling you into his chest felt natural. For a fleeting moment, you’d allow yourself to welcome the comfort he bought.

He was used to your laughter and jokes and you were used to him cursing when things didn’t go his way.

And that gala– the moment you turned up at the palace he welcomed you with a brief kiss on the cheek mere inches from your lips and you welcomed him with a cheesy smile. He was torn moments before that, wondering if it was okay to kiss you on the lips or forehead or temples or–

To anyone else you looked beyond happy– soulmates finally given the word that you didn’t need to hide in the shadows any longer.

“So, how’s Tom?”

“What do you mean ‘how’s Tom?’ you spend more time with him then I do.” You snort, taking another sip of cherry red wine. It burns your tongue.

Harrison shakes his head, looking over the selection of nail polishes. “I’m asking because I’m curious as to what you think. You get to see a different side of him.”

He goes for silver.

“You mean the fake Tom? I get to see a side of him that has to pretend to be happy and comfortable. So personally I’d say that he’s okay, fake happy maybe.” You mutter, watching with curious eyes as he picks up the bottle. You hadn’t had your nails done since Carley was little.

Harrison screws his face up at the aroma. “I don’t know about that. I think he’s actually happier around you

“Fake–”

“Not fake.” He interrupts. Haz knew Tom better then anyone and Tom knew Haz– He knew that Tom used to get panic attacks as a kid and possibly still did. Not that Tom would tell anyone that and not that Haz would go around spreading that anyway.

He takes your hand, carefully layering on the polish. You could’ve done it yourself but Harrison had insisted that it had to be perfect– whatever that meant.

You shove the comment off, swirling crimson wine around the glass that’d been handed to you the moment you walked in. “Why are we talking about him anyway? Why can’t we talk about you– what’s it like being his right-hand man?”

Harrison laughs. “It’s fine, I’ve seen the good and the bad.”

“The bad?” You question, watching your nails go from whatever they were before to royally accepted.

“Everyone has bad moments don’t they?”

“What are some of Toms?”

Harrison stops, letting a sigh escape his lips and grits his teeth. Somehow he knew he was going to end up spilling something he probably shouldn’t have. It took everything in him to place the varnish down, even more, effort to look up into your curious eyes. The boy was about to break.

“I don’t think that’s my place to–”

“Please, c’mon. Maybe you telling me will help us get closer– maybe I’ll actually try.” You look at him and push your lips into a pout.

Harrison scoffs. “I know what happened at your place so I already know you’re trying.” He sees the serious look in your eyes and remembers what Tom had spoken to him about only hours earlier.

“I think I like her.”

“I knew this would happen.” Harrison really wanted to rub this one in. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you that this would happen and look where we are now.”

“Shut up you div! I’m telling you this because I trust that you won’t rub it in.”

The boy sighs and runs a hand through his tangled blonde locks. “Why do you think you like her?”

Tom didn’t want to mention her name– his ex, because every time he did it was like a slap to the face.

“I just… I have that same feeling I felt with April.”

Harrison puts his hands up, stopping his best friend from talking. “Woah, you’re not in love with her are you? Mate it’s a bit too soon for that don’t you think?”

“No way! I wouldn’t go as far as love, not even close.” Tom places his head in his hands, letting out a frustrated groan. “It’s what I felt at the start. Like… I want to spend more time with her and get to know her more. I find myself staring at her when I shouldn’t be and picking out the things that I like… which is everything.”

Harrison tried to contain the smile that wanted to take over his features but couldn’t. Tom hadn’t had feelings for anyone since April. He could barely even trust anyone so this was big.

“You’re in deep and I think that this time around, it may be a good thing.”

“She’s stubborn, Haz, she’s so stubborn and has her damn walls up so high.”

“And?” Harrison raises a brow, throwing his arms up. “Don’t let that stop you, it’ll just make everything worth it when she finally lets you in. If you do like her then don’t give up.”

Tom chuckles, remembering that he left out one key piece of information. “And I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

He tells himself that telling you about her is for the best. That it’s helping Tom.

“There was a girl…” He starts, picking up the nail polish again. He needed something to distract the half of his brain that was telling him to stop. “To put it simply, her and Tom were in love– madly in love, everyone thought they were going to get married.” You listen intently. “They went everywhere together, did things that other couples wouldn’t even think of doing and they were just… inseparable. Until they weren’t.”

Harrisons' voice sounded strained like he was forcing this out. He sounded unsure of himself, on edge.

“What do you mean?” You ask, breaking the sudden silence. Though you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

“Her name was April and she cheated on Tom– multiple times with one of the uh, the staff here. It crushed Tom, absolutely destroyed him for the longest time and for a while his happiness was fake but what I see with you isn’t that.” “He couldn’t trust anyone, refused to let anyone in and only ever put on a smile for the cameras. He was ruined and I think he needs something good in his life.”

You knew you weren’t the best person in the world– far from it in fact but you would never cheat. You would never purposely break someone's heart. Suddenly you felt yourself feeling something close to pity.

You listen intently with your bottom lip between your teeth. You chew softly.

“And you want me to be that something good?”

Harrison shakes his head allowing wild tufts to bob around. “No, what I’m saying is that you should try with him.”

“What if I’m already trying?” You stare into the mirror, picking out your flaws and inconsistencies. “This is me, I’m hard to get through to and I’m just… I’m not easy and I don’t want to be. I’m not saying that Tom has to fight for me but I don’t want to lower my walls for someone I barely know.”

The blonde nods, trying to understand but finds it hard considering he’s naturally a very open person. He wasn’t always like that, though. He used to be the type to hide away in the corner if a stranger so much as walked in the room or pretend to be a statue if his grandparents tried to hug him.

“Don’t touch your nails or touch… anything.” Harrison mutters, getting out of his seat. You marvel at the silver and hold it up in the light, watching the way it shone under the vanity. “Just be nicer to him, let him in at least a little bit and see what happens. You two are going to be in this for a while.” He stops, noticing you starve yourself down in the vanity mirror. “Also, you look gorgeous so stop criticizing yourself.”

“I am not!”

He rolls his eyes playfully, meeting your gaze through the mirror. “Please, Tom does the same thing.”

You stop and bite your lip again. “He does?”

“Definitely, he likes to pick out all the flaws in his outfits and body every time I dress him.

You hum softly, staring back down at your perfectly painted nails once again and resist the immediate urge to touch the drying paint. The more you found out about Tom, the more real this entire thing became. The more you realised that he was just like you in more ways then one.

The first thing you did when you got the emerald green ball gown was question why Harrison picked green for you of all colours. But the second you slid it on you understood why. The second thing you did was spin around in circles until your head was aching and giggles were spewing from your lips as the end of the gown tangled with your legs.

The third thing that happened was probably the biggest event of the night and that was the moment you took those first few steps down the large palace steps into the ballroom. All eyes were on you as you gripped Harrison's arms. Some glanced on in confusion at the newcomer, others adoration and some people's jealousy.

And you saw Tom standing at the very bottom with his hands behind his back, a mindblown expression on his features.

He too looked amazing but you completely stole the show.

“Wow…”

“Cat got your tongue?” You tease, taking his hand gently. His hand merely ghosted across yours, fingers running across the diamond ring on your right hand that you would have to make sure not to break in order to return at the end of the night.

“No.” He scowls, noticing how your features don’t falter. “You just look really pretty.”

“Thank you, you look amazing too. I like this colour on you.” You run a hand down the front of his suit jacket, the grey cotton smooth against your fingertips. “I’ve never been to one of these things before, what do we do?”

“We smile, dance, and put on a show for the people. Be careful– give them an ounce of attention and they’ll snatch you up, you’ll never get away.” Your face goes shocked, obviously believing everything he was saying. “They’ll start talking to you about how the price of mansions is expanding and asking where you got that dress from because it’s most definitely the most expensive one here. They’re all getting jealous already.”

“It is?” You glance down at the green decorated with specks of glitter– but maybe it wasn’t glitter, maybe it was diamonds.

“Definitely, that’s worth more then hers… and hers, oh and that girl over there.” Tom nods his head at different girls and you marvel at their dresses. But apparently, none equalled yours.

You gasp, “Tom what the fuck? What if I spill something on this?”

He simply shrugs in response like it was nothing. “We’ll throw it out. We have way more where that came from, surely you’ve seen.”

Tom knew he was winding you up. He wanted to laugh at the way your face twisted and turned from confusion to frustration.

“You’re such an ass.” You groan and tug on his hand, wanting to end the conversation ASAP so you could do something other then focus on the dollar sign looming over your head. “C’mon, let’s dance before people think we’re weird for just standing here.”

The two of you meet on the dance floor, an old orchestral song playing and you swallow feeling many sets of eyes on the two of you. You’d never had to dance before, not with a prince or any boy for that matter and now here you were.

Maybe he sensed your nervousness or maybe it was natural, but Tom placed his hands around your waist, giving you the indication to put yours around his neck. It seemed strange at first, but comfort lingered.

You sway back and forth to the music, a comfortable silence settling between the two of you and Tom notices how you don’t ask for help, not once. You follow his lead, keeping a set of eyes on his clothed chest because you didn’t know where else to look. Staring him directly in the eyes seemed awkward and staring over his shoulder would in some way, show the guests that your attention was anywhere but on him.

It remains like that for a few moments, the two of you going back and forth. But slowly he crept closer and his hands relax on your waist, your fingers were warm against his curls and Tom felt anything but nervous.

He was moving mere inches closer, autumn eyes attracting your own until you were the only two in the room.

“I could kiss you right now.” He mutters, lips barely fluttering over yours. You felt his warm breath, the ghost of his words and contain a shudder. He was so close, creeping closer.

You force yourself to swallow, glancing up through hooded, overdone lashes. “What if I don’t want you to kiss me?”

Tom feels his heart stop for a single second– whatever hope he was feeling decreasing and plummeting in his chest. “Then I won’t.”

But you never said it– what was truly eating away at you. You never said ‘kiss me, I’m sure I want it too!’ or ‘Do it, let’s put on a show for them– the paps and your parents that are currently eyeballing us.’

‘Kiss me like the first night we met but softer.’

It was way too soon.

So instead you gaze up at him and watch as Tom takes your hand softly– like a feather and spins you around just once. The two of you move delicately, your heels clicking against the ballroom floor. Everyone watches in absolute awe. Wondering just how the prince had kept you– an absolute gem hidden for so long.

Facing him once more, you swallow thickly. “You know, you’re not actually that arrogant and I don’t actually hate you.”

He tries not to smile but fails miserably. Tom definitely wasn’t oblivious to your sudden change of attitude but he wasn’t just letting it slip right past him either. He furrows his brows in confusion. Wondering how the conversation went from kissing to this. Kissing.

“That’s good to know, I guess.” He coughs.

“You’re actually a big softie.” You laugh gently, trying to make a joke out of what was intended to be a serious moment. “You pretend to like your life but really you wish you could settle down somewhere quieter. You get lonely here sometimes and want someone close. You don’t want all this.”

Maybe you were spewing bullshit.

“Yes, I do.” He grumbles, tightening his grip a little around your hand.

“Okay then, you don’t want the cameras and the eyes on you twenty-four seven. You don’t want the expectations and seriousness of it all.” He looks confused but reluctant to say anything. “Try and tell me I’m wrong.”

Tom refrains from screwing his face up because that’d give the crowd an indication that you were anything but happy. “And what about you, hm? You pretend like you don’t want this– the glitz and the glam but you secretly love it. You’re secretly eating all this up but you’re too stubborn to mention it.”

You raise a brow at the remark. “So what If I do? What if I do secretly like it and I’m just treating you like dirt because it’s fun seeing how much you’ll take until you just explode?”

“I can go on forever, darling.”

You lean in until your wine-stained lips are hovering over his ear, gelled curls slicked back neatly. “Don’t test me, Holland because I’ll win, and I know you don’t like to lose.”

He scoffs, wanting to disagree with you but it was true. Tom Holland didn’t like to lose and after your attitude had been eating away at him for the last few weeks, frustrating him more and more and causing his teeth to grit as you so much as walked near him he wanted to keep the softer side of you around for a little longer.

But then the song came to an end and you pull away from him, leaving him with a slight bow and something told him to pull you back in, to dance to the next song and the one after that t00– not for the crowd but for himself. It was selfish.

“I might have a dance with Haz, he looks lonely.” You gaze over at the blonde boy at the back of the room, your previous conversation with Tom suddenly forgotten. Harrison leaned against the wall, a glass of wine in one hand and looked around with wandering eyes.

“You can’t,” Tom replied curtly. “People will think it’s… something more, they’ll start rumours.”

You raise a brow, “You were dancing with another girl earlier, weren’t you?” He doesn’t reply and that’s enough of an answer for you. “You’re jealous.”

He feels called out.

“I’m not!” He retorts.

“You’re so jealous.”

He hides it well, squinting his eyes and crossing his arms across his chest and you were thankful that no one around was paying too much attention to the two of you anymore. If you were alone you would’ve pressed on, taunting him for feeling jealous over literally nothing– besides, it’s not like the two of you were together anyway.

“Whatever, I’m going to get another drink.” You shrug and Tom watches you leave, heading over to the nearest waiter until he finds himself standing alone.

He knew you’d already had one or two and should've stopped you from going for more but he couldn’t because the second he tried to step away, a hand landed on his shoulder, perfectly manicured nails gaining his attention.

Not even an hour later, Tom was exhausted. Dancing with you for a brief few songs had been the highlight of his night and making conversation with strangers about things he really didn’t care that much about couldn’t even begin to compete.

He had watched you from the corner of his eye, watching you sit at the back table as you swung your leg back and forth, looking bored out of your absolute mind. Guys whispered a few meters away and to put it simply… it gave him a stomach ache. Harrison had kept you company at one point and without Tom, you had no idea what to do.

He took the first out he could get the second he saw you slam a glass down onto the table earning glances from a couple party guests and hurried over, lip between his teeth. He was nervous.

You watch him, hair now messier then it was earlier and you could tell he’d been running a hand through it which was probably something he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“You’re drunk.” He says bluntly, watching your mouth open in protest. You were definitely drunk

“I am not!” You snap back, holding up the glass of wine you had been sipping on. “I only had like… five glasses of wine, maybe more?”

He shakes his head, towering over you. He wanted to glare at Harrison and ask him why he’d allowed this but his best mate was long gone. “You’re so drunk. C’mon, let’s go back to my room.” He nods his head towards the series of stairs.

You giggle. “I’m not having sex with you again– the first time was good though but not… not again.” You take another mouthful of the alcohol and screw your face up at the taste, swallowing it harshly before Tom snatches the glass out of your hand.

He really hopes that no one heard that. He was thankful you’d chosen a table at the end of the room to drink at– where little to no one was about to bother you.

“We’re not doing that, you just need to rest before you do something you’ll regret.” He hisses.

“We already know what happens when I’m drunk, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Let’s go.”

He wraps an arm around your waist to keep you up straight, plastering a smile to those around him and he’s thankful when no one attempts to start a conversation. He’s also thankful when you comply instead of reaching for another glass. Harrison watches on with a coy grin, seeing care hidden beneath frustration practically written all over toms features.

You tumble up the steps to his room, relying on Toms direction and the arm that kept a tight grasp to stay upwards. But as you got closer, your eyes begin to feel heavy and you began to drag him down, refusing to support your own weight. So that was why he lifted you up bridal style.

Tom shoves his bedroom door open with a thud that causes you to stir, heading straight for his bed where he places you down gently. You swore you instantly sunk into the plush, royal duvet, engulfed in a blanket of absolute warmth.

Tessa, who had been kept in the room thanks to Harrison sticks her head up and whines at the person now laying in Toms place, but puts her head back down upon seeing Tom.

“You can have my bed tonight.” He mutters. His voice was soft, gentle and he watched you drift off almost instantly with your head pressed against the pillow, mouth slightly agape. Still, you wore the dress and jewellery and he only moved down to tug the heels off of your feet.

Maybe he was falling. Hard.

Six!

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