#and i reflected on the fact that it would be entirely possible to cotton eye joe so hard you fuckin die

[podcast-official]

"you'll never want to leave" except the only dance the good neighbors do is the cotton eye joe

[oceanreveuse]

𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝗹𝗮𝗸𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀, 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝘁𝘂𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗶𝘀𝗮𝗴𝗶 𝘆𝗼𝗶𝗰𝗵𝗶

◟fem!reader, sfw, reader wears a sundress, petnames (princess? baby) , maybe ooc isagi, reader + isagi meet during blue lock but this is set post-blue lock, quality time w isagi, a lil suggestive at the end, not proofread! ◟anastasia's footnote : happy birthday to my dearly beloved little sis @reonaissance !! welcome to the big scary world eeek !! i hope i did isagi justice at least a liiiiiiittleeee... i fought my demons to finish this (´；ω；`)

from the moment you met him, you figured he'd have the mindset to spoil you. it was blatantly obvious from the look in his eyes whenever he'd spotted you across the cafeteria, mindlessly blanking out his friends' words as they spoke to him. if it was anything to go by, it was almost as if his entire world disappeared the second you were in his vicinity - or his line of sight. it was pretty simple why; you were quickly becoming his world.

your birthday perhaps rolls around too quick for your own liking but for ISAGI, it's the best time of year. a chance to truly treat you like a princess where no one will bat an eyelid, he was beginning to grow a little tired of bachira and kunigami's teasing when you was the topic of conversation between the trio - he wouldn't complain usually, he loves to go on about you. in fact, they can almost predict when he's about to start another lovesick babble.

in between training, matches and flying you across the globe with him, isagi tries to keep everything as domestic as possible. he loves you, smitten and knitted together like your fingers on this late summer evening. the skies are pinks, oranges, hues of purple fading in like a watercolour painting. it's been a conversation before, muttered between cotton sheets and a warm breeze through the open window - you found it difficult sometimes to keep travelling with him, to stick at his side wherever he goes. you support him, yes you always will but you knew soon you needed to stay home, to cheer him on through a screen until he returned home.

"you're thinking again, baby," his familiar voice is soothing, eases the irritating repetitive thoughts that nag on your bones like a dog. you turn your attention to those deep blue eyes and a smile caresses your face, squeezing his hand in reassurance, "relax, will you? it's your birthday."

"i know it is," you roll your eyes with a playful huff, amused with his constant reminder that today is your special day. it would feel like a normal day otherwise, if your boyfriend wasn't so insistent. he gives a puppy-like grin in response, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly.

"i have to make sure you know, we can't have you forgetting, y'know?" isagi hums, his blue eyes reflecting the sunset like a body of water - specifically like the lake stood before you, the mirror reflection of the sky disrupted by the ripples.

the breeze blows against your bare legs once again, ruffling the skirt of your sundress and isagi hums in response, eyes flickering down to watch the fabric momentarily. after a few seconds, he lets go of your hand to shuffle behind you, toned arms wrapping around your waist and pulling your back flush to his chest. his body is warm, a personal heater compared the hug of chilling air around the pair of you.

a calloused thumb brushes up and down on your hip, his chin situated on your shoulder as a silence settles between you, comforting when you just lean into his touch, his presence. taking a walk so far from home you got both away from the suffocating air that came with being a footballer and in light of that, the partner of a footballer. not a soul in sight other than a few ducks settled on the water, no loud clicks of press cameras and reporters eager to get a word in with isagi - just the two of you and your breathing.

"happy birthday, princess..." his voice trails off, a delicate kiss pressed to your neck moments after and you hum in response, placing a hand over his. your thumb strokes against the skin of his hand. a small smile decorates your face however isagi is quick to move his hand away, much to your dismay. it trails a path down your waist, the curve of your hip before settling comfortably on your thigh.

isagi's fingers slip under the hem of your sundress, a playful chuckle rumbling against your back as you give him a knowing look over your shoulder, almost a warning, "c'mon, i think i have another present to give you back at the hotel."

© oceanreveuse 2024 | reblogs appreciated | do not repost, steal, translate, etc. on any social media platform & do not feed to ai.

◟the waves call for . . . @qichun @tetsuskei

[ the magazine is affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum ]

[bimsha]

Challenge - Post

Fandom - Tokyo Revengers

Day - 4

Note - My dumbass self mixed up the dates and in my blissful oblivion I wrote this thinking today is May 4th when it's actually 5th. So, I don't want this to go to waste, so Imma just publish and I will write the 5th one today too. Pardon my idiocy sniff (and also I missed May 03 and there's that)

MAY 04 - Misdirection ft. Mitsuya Takashi

Tags : fashion exhibitions, best friend Baji, kinda crack, soft

Word count : 891

The hallways were packed with people bustling through. Couples holding hands as they laughed, kids running around abandoning the hands of their parents, adults — done with life, sipping coffee from paper cups and tossing them off to the nearby trash just to purchase another. You stared at the crumpled paper in your hand, blinking. Baji was terrible at giving directions, the scribbles in the paper didn’t mean a thing, at least for you anyway. 

It was he who said that there is a fashion exhibition in the mall and one of his friend’s designs would be there. Baji was your best friend and you liked fashion, so you said yes until that goddamn idiot handed you this kindergarten drawing and set off to hang out with his friends who would be arriving shortly after. It’s been years, it was about time he introduced you to his friends. 

You turned the piece of paper in your hand, seething. The hell does, take a left and up the chandelier means anyway?  What’s a chandelier got to do with any of this?

You sighed, “Better ask someone” You murmured, stuffing the paper into your coat pocket and walking towards one of the staff members — at least you thought he was a staff member, sporting his black jacket and orange t-shirt that had a logo printed on his chest. “Excuse me?”

The male turned, his lilac eyes brushing over you. “Yes?”

Your mind suddenly went blank. What was the name of the fashion exhibition again!? “Uhm” You said. 

“How can I help you?” He asked again, frowning. He looked as if he was not quite sure to respond to your frozen state. 

“Do you happen to know where that fashion exhibition is taking place?” You asked. You forgot the name but the words fashion exhibition have to do. 

“Oh” He said, suddenly surprised, “You have an invitation?”

You nodded, messing around your bag to find the ticket. “Here it is”

His eyes scanned through it and with a nod he handed it back to you. You pressed your lips together in anticipation. He probably knows it, surely, right? “I’ll take you there” He said, stuffing his hands to his pockets as he yelled a goodbye at one of the other guys he was standing with. You smiled, THANK GOD.

“Thank you” You replied, unable to confess the gratitude you had in your mind. The next time you see Baji, you’re going to evaporate him into thin air and- You stopped when he took a left and up a staircase, the ceiling decorated with magnificent chandeliers, lighting it up with beams of white. “Oh” You said out loud, staring at them, mouth agape. “This is what he meant by up the chandeliers” 

The male turned to you with a questioning gaze, “Huh?”

You flushed, realising you have said the word out loud. “Ah, it’s just my friend who wrote me the directions saying take a left and up the chandeliers. I was trying to figure out what that meant”

He smiled, in a moment of distraction you noticed his eyes weren’t lilac but a rich lavender reflecting the luminous glow of the chandeliers. “Well, no wonder you lost your way. I’m Mitsuya Takashi by the way” He said, offering you his hand. 

You nodded, “Y/n L/n, nice to meet you” His name sounded awfully familiar. Where have you heard it before?

Mitsuya frowned, “That name is so familiar” He said. You blinked, surprised. He knew you? Did this mean you know him too? Probably, given the fact that his name was familiar this scenario is entirely possible. 

You two stepped into a magnificent room at the end of the staircase. Mannequins posing in various directions, silk, cotton and numerous fabrics on them, silver jewellery glistening like stars across the room. You momentarily forget about the initial thoughts and bask in the brightness of it. The dresses, shirt, skirts and all kinds of different products in a storm of colours greeted your eyes, “Wow” You said, awestruck. “Just wow”

Mitsuya’s smile had dropped. “Wait, do you know someone called Baji?”

You blinked, about to answer with a yes when it dawned on you. The friend Baji mentioned, Mitsuya Takashi, the brilliant fashion designer who had won a spot in this exhibition. You felt your cheeks warming, your ears must be glowing red. You should’ve remembered him the moment he said his name. This was way too embarrassing. “You’re his friend, aren’t you?”

He nodded, “And you’re his friend, the one who like fashion”

You chuckled, rubbing your hands together, wishing he won’t question why you’re lit up like a christmas tree. “Ah well, I do like fashion, but I’m not much educated in that field”

Mitsuya just smiled, he offered his hand while gesturing at the rooms. “I can help you with that. Wanna join me?”

You hesitated for a minute and slipped your hand to his. “I’d be happy to” You said as he guided you through the crowds admiring the designs, some of them protected in glass boxes, some in the out with warning signs not to touch. You held onto his hand tight, not wanting to get lost among this sea of people. You were quite sure you’re not going to find a better person who can guide you through all this. 

[horanghoe]

hi bestie! if u have a little free time would u do prompt #1 with my bf yuta pls? & ty <3

hello my absolutely sweet soul <3

ignoring the fact this took me close to 4 months to reply to, ofc I can ~

drabble game masterlist

general masterlist

prompt 1: “Can you take me home?” “Are you crying?”

genre: fluff/angst/SFW

member/group: Yuta / NCT

T/W: mention of alcohol consumption & anxiety/mild panic attack

Yuta rarely reveals himself - such is his charm.

But if there's something he's firm to remind you, it's the age old advice of 'it's okay to not be fine'. Sure, it doesn't completely omit any bad feelings you have; but it sure as hell lessens the burn of life's disappointments.

This morning had started in a rush - midnight cramming paired with the anxiety of an upcoming end of term exam two nights from now created a small black burning coal of anxiety in your stomach, and the fumes evolved into stuttered words, a dry throat, clammy hands and an inability to untangle your thoughts from the fog of anxiety.

Yuta had driven you to your place of study to pick up some debt-worthy textbooks that were overdue for return at the library; only for a fine to be issued upon arrival. They had been damaged in your absence of the communal space and you were the sucker that had to pay the price, no matter your reasonable explanations.

He had been watching you through the edges of his vision; monitoring your bad mood as a boyfriend, but deeply wishing he knew how to help.

"Is everything alright, Y/N?"

You answered him with silence. Inwardly facing the battle of whether tonight's party plans were your best interest. You already knew the answer was no, but you intended to face the mounting social task solely due to it being Yuta's friends gathering for exam celebrations.

"Y/N?" He prompted, softer this time.

You sighed, swallowing the lump in your throat and forced a smile.

"Fine, baby. A little anxious is all. I think all these deadlines are finally getting to me!"

He wasn't entirely sure how to react, but gave a slight nod and smile. Offering a hand as no one was around and the road was long and straight. You took it, reciprocating the slight squeeze.

"You can talk to me, you know that right?"

You nodded. Of course you knew that. But you would try your best not to share the burden, for as long as possible

----

That plan worked for about 4 hours - long enough for your heavy drink-laden brain to thrum along to the music and vibe with your group of friends and plus ones.

The mirage of laughter and late teen-age giddiness broke as soon as you stepped out into the cold dark air of the early morn'.

The sound of your boyfriend's voice, along with the bass of music and taps of heels on cement faded into a fuzz as your brain began to fizzle and bop - the alcohol finally mixing with anxiety and causing a nasty chemical reaction.

In a way only crying people do, you did your best to scrunch your nose and face, heave a large breathe, and see the night to it's completion.

But Yuta interrupted that line of thought, gently placing a hand at the small of your back and giving his iconic sunshine smile.

"Mark said Jaehyun -"

"Please can you take me home." You blurted out on instinct, cringing as Yuta blinked down at you. You had cracked straight down the middle and his frown reflected your anxiety straight back at you.

"Babe? Of course I can, but - why are you crying, Y/N? Did something happen?"

"Oh, I didn't realise -" Yuta tsk'd you as you went to excuse your streaming face and turn away from him, instead enveloping you into a large compressing hug. Your cries staggered against the cotton of his shirt, but he rested his chin on your head patiently and swayed you in the cool night air.

"I'm sorry - I just - it must be the drink, everything's just hit me suddenly - exams, deadlines, everything -"

Yuta smiled down at you kindly, with understanding eyes and a loving nod. He saw you, and yet he didn't judge a thing.

"I understand. And the shots probably didn't - and won't - help your anxiety surrounding your exams. As designated driver, I think it's time for bed, don't you think?"

With a sniff, you nodded, looking up as Yuta opened your car side door, a few steps away.

"Chin up princess, your tiara's falling."

Flipping him off with a giggle, you dropped into the car seat with a happy heart. Sure, the anxiety was stil there, lingering at the edges. But that's where it always would be. An unwelcome third-partner in your little life.

Thank goodness Yuta could replace it all with love, and understanding <3

i don't know anything about Yuta so I rly tried my darn'dest bestie

*retches* since when did I become so needy

anyways hope u liked it, real rusty but happy to be back and tapped this out in my lunch break but amen sis, ilu

well would you look at that: updated 02/February/2022

[sweetestlamb]

Let's Play A Love Game

Author's note: this one is rated 😈 so yeah. There was originally more angst in my mind but once I got to that part I was over it lol I'm the worst at angst I much rather make it naughty. It's more rushed than I wanted but I don't really have time to write 10k fics right now. But hopefully soon.

Summary: it's just pretend, right?

She hadn't meant to push the event in the corner of her mind until she forgot about it completely, so much so that when the e-vite showed up in her inbox she stared at it in wide eyed shock not even noticing Mi-Seon creeping up behind her.

"It's already time for that? I usually know it's coming because you start buying expensive dresses you can't afford and crying at your credit card bill. Maybe country life has really changed you hm?"

False. Inaccurate. Utterly wrong to the every core.

She lets out a shrill scream letting her head fall painfully on her desktop.

"I'm an idiot! Just kill me now, I deserve it." She has nothing to wear, okay the mountain of boxes in her living room, bedroom and some hidden in the linen closet beg to defer but none of that is worthy of this event. The annual dentist convention in Seoul, it's a week long getaway. It's meant to be an opportunity to build connections and attend professional learning classes, but that has long been abandoned. Now it is a fashion show and chance to show off your success and this year more than ever she has to impress everyone. They all look down on her and her cute little practice. Those judgemental snarky bitches.

"Do we have anymore patients?" She absently asks her best friend, only friend already getting up and walking away.

"No that was the last one. Do you want to call it a day?" She doesn't give a verbal reply lost in her phone and the disease that is online shopping, in the span of three minutes she has already added seven dresses to her cart.

"Chief Hong is going to have a long day."

It's just as Mi-seon says the next day the nosy know it all shows up glaring at her over the handful of packages in his arms.

"Don't tell me you're doing this again. What more could you possibly have to order? How much things does one woman need?" His voice is an air warmer than the last time they were in this very same position, but she tries not to think too hard about it. Their relationship is too confusing these days, as temperamental as the sea.

"Are delivery men allowed to complain this much when they're doing a job they are getting paid for?" She snarks back, snatching her packages from his arms with a huff. Ignoring the grin on his face as she disappears into her house.

"That better be all you order. I'm not coming back."

He comes back. At least six more trips, more boxes each time on the last day he doesn't simply leave after making his delivery.

"I'm coming in for tea because of you I've been working too hard." She squeaks indignantly as he pushes past her, their shoulders brushing in the tight space of the doorway.

She should wait until she doesn't have an audience but she's too impatient so while he's making the tea in her kitchen (so rude and intrusive), she starts to open a few boxes pulling out the contents. Dresses, blouses, shirts, hair accessories, lipsticks in all shades and hues, and of course shoes; heels, flats and everything in between.

"Your house looks like a department store." She jumps at his voice glancing up at him, almost laughing at the hedgehog mug that he's drinking out of that Mi-seon gave her as a joke. Leave it to him to pick the most ridiculous mug.

"Hurry up and go so I can try everything on." She starts to take the objects out and organize them, putting together possible outfits lazily.

"Why not have a fashion show?" He slurps loudly at the tea, sighing and smiling down at the warm beverage. Acting like he's never had tea before, such a plebian.

"A fashion show?"

"Yeah, model all that", he motions to the new boxes littering her bedroom floor, "and I'll let you know what looks good."

She scoffs, loudly looking at his lackluster outfit; a simple white tee tucked into dark cargo pants with suspenders.

"What do you know about fashion?" She replies meanly, despite the little voice in her mind that reminds her that while his outfits are more practical than fashionable there is something distracting about the way his shoulders fill out his shirts and the way his long legs sit in his pants.

He shrugs looking down at himself, "I'm the town handy man I have no need to look good. But I'm still a man I can tell you what I think looks good on a woman."

Oh. It's a nonchalant statement said with no real heat but the implications make her skin warm up, she's never once thought that he saw her as a woman; nor considered looking at him like a man. (Lies.)

"I--why woul--why?" She stutters through an answer, tongue heavy in her mouth. He looks back nonplussed, sitting down pointedly on her couch.

"Never took you for the shy kind. You growing bashful now Ms. Dentist?" His eyes twinkle with mischief and she knows that she's being played but she wants nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face. Slamming her room door, she pulls off her casual house clothes and grabs the first thing that catches her attention- a buttery yellow dress that grazes her knee, pairing them with white heels and a high messy bun. A swipe of lip tint completes the look and she confidently opens her room door.

Du-sik is staring aimlessly at his phone and doesn't notice her reappearance at first, so she coughs loudly folding her arms and when his eyes land on her, a chill runs down her spine at the look that lands on her body. It's been a long time since a man looked at her in this way, his eyes are undressing her even though he was the one who implored her to dress up in the first place. She hates it. At least she should hate it. But she can't ignore the satisfaction that washes over her at his dumbfounded look, that smug look obliterated by her very first look.

"Well?" She pushes harder, twirling to give him the full look. His gasp is loud behind her, she knows exactly why. The deep revealing plunge that travels all the way to the small of her back. There's no way she would wear this to the convention much too suggestive but that's her business.

"Wher-" his voice cracks and this time she can't contain her smile, dimples flashing now at her clear affect on him, clearing his throat he tries again, "Where exactly are you going again?"

She hums turning back around, gleeful at the vibrant blush on his cheeks. So he is just a man after all.

"A dentist convention." She answers cheekily and he guffaws loudly, eyes narrowing at her like he knows exactly what she's trying to do. They stare at each other for a long moment and she ultimately breaks the stand still, realizing what's happening. It feels a lot like flirting.

Collecting herself, she barrels back into the room.

"What the hell are you doing?" She whispers to her reflection, face too flushed for her liking.

A hard knock at the door pulls her from her self chastisement, "You didn't even wait for my rating."

She sighs loudly covering her face in embarrassment at her own action. She doesn't even have alcohol to blame this time.

"I don't care. This was stupid, let's stop."

Of course he ignores her.

"I liked it. But it's too...sexy for convention. You should wear that for someone special. I doubt anyone with a beating heart would be able to resist you."

What the fuck.

This isn't who they are, when did they become comfortable enough for conversations like this? They despised each other, right? Confused and annoyingly flattered, she peels the dress off her body trying her hardest not to think about the fact that only a door separates him and her naked body.

"I would love to see the others. But I have to go, but if you want my opinion. Red is definitely your color."

"What?" She replies, but she can hear the too loud click of the front opening and then closing and just as capriciously as he arrived, he leaves. 

Burying something that feels a lot like disappointment she flops onto her bed, head fuzzy like its been wrapped in cotton.

"What is going on?"

They don't see much of each other the next day and it's unusual given how much they see each other on a regular basis but she refuses to think about it or even consider that he's avoiding her. He's just busy and she doesn't care anyway, they have nothing to do with each other.

The convention is in two days now, she has her overnight bag packed with all her new purchases and the messages have been pouring in their group chat. She's mostly chosen to ignore them but on a whim she decides to check what they're so excited about, only to feel her stomach drop.

Why isn't Hye Jin answering?

Maybe she's busy with her mystery man 😉

Oh! She has to bring him, we need to interrogate him!

Yoon Hye Jin don't pretend you don't see these messages!!

That she had forgotten about.

"Why did you tell them that he's interested in you? Has living here altered your brain, you idiot." She berates herself.

"Who's interested in you? Why are you an idiot?" Mi-seon looks curious from the doorway, without waiting for an invitation she hops onto the bed with two cans of beer. She grabs one, drinking it in a flash.

"Oh it's that kind of night." Mi-seon says excitedly running to grab more beers.

"So let me get this straight, you told them that Chief Hong is interested in you and that he's been chasing you but you're not interested?"

She nods meekly, wishing the floor would swallow her up.

"Why did you lie?"

That's the brunt of the issue, she's a liar. She should have sent her initial message and told them that there was nothing between them but how could she when they were all calling him handsome and acting like she finally did something right? She'd spent that entire dinner feeling like her teenage self on the outside looking in, wanting nothing more than to be someone worthy of being included.

"I know I should have told the truth."

"Yes, you should have told them that you're interested in him too."

Huh.

Time stops as she processes the words that her best friend just uttered. There is static in her head as she tries to make sense of it.

"What are you talking about?"

Mi-seon looks at her unimpressed.

"You can both keep lying to yourself but the rest of us aren't as stupid. You're both interested in each other. It's mutual."

She wants to ardently deny the accusation but the words are caught in her throat and all she can manage are refusing sounds.

"You've been wearing red all week." Mi-seon says accusingly and she jumps up in huff, "So what? I'm allowed to wear colors!"

"You hate wearing red. You said it makes your skin look too pale. You hardly ever wear it. So color me surprised when I learned that red is the favorite color of a certain part timer."

That damn town chat. There has to be a way to get Mi-seon out of it. Maybe it was a mistake letting her live here. She was learning too much.

"Don't even bother to deny it. I won't believe anything you say. But I think you should ask him to go with you, you'll get some time alone to figure this out."

There's nothing to figure out. They are..... acquaintances who can admit that the other is vaguely attractive at times. His face isn't all that bad and she's pretty, so it's natural that there is tension at times, like he said they were still humans.

So she doesn't tell him about her fib, pretending everything is fine until it's the day of the convention and her anxiety has all but smothered her and her hands have a slight tremble in them as she starts to drive.

"It's going to be fine. Everything will be okay." She doesn't believe a word she's saying to herself, her heart is thumping in her heaving chest. She doesn't want to go alone. Convincing Mi-seon to leave was a failed endeavour, her and that police officer becoming inseparable. She knew what that smile meant when her best friend had realized that she would have the house to herself. She could barely get a word in as Mi-seon started frantically shaving her legs then pushed her out of the bathroom to "shave her wild cat".

With a sigh she starts driving, the car too quiet despite what she'd told Du-Sik and the Gongjin grannies. Uncharacteristically she turns on the radio, kpop blaring from the speakers. She recognizes the tune, never before has something as mundane as butter seemed so interesting but the kitchen essential was given new life by the song. She bops her head to the catchy beat, trying to ignore the fact that she's driving to the lion's den.

Some time later, she pulls into the hotel a valet already coming over to get her car. Grabbing her overnight bag, she exits the car handing her keys to the waiting hands of the valet.

Everyone is here and none of them had come alone, she was the only one without a plus one. They haven't noticed her yet so she watches as they all laugh at a joke she can't hear, unnecessarily stroking at their husband's chests as if to show off their exorbitantly priced wedding rings. Everything was always a competition here.

She shouldn't have come. Their was nothing about her life that they would be envious of. She was going to make a fool of herself. Impulsively she starts stepping back but it's too late, Hong In-A spots her and points her out and immediately all eyes are on her, they all start walking over to her and she wants nothing more than to run far, far away. Get on a bus and go to the beach and never see any of them ever again. But she's no longer a child, no longer that scared little girl; worked too hard to shed that skin.

Fortifying herself she puts on a fake smile. Ready for war.

"Hye-Jin ah, there you are. We were beginning to think you wouldn't come. You never responded in the group chat." Ye-Ri states with an attitude, looking around her as if searching for someone and eyes brightening when she sees no one. "Did you come alone?" This makes all of them perk up, looking around like chickens with their heads clucking. She swallows the shame the question elicits, "Who would I be with? I told you in already, it's not like that."

They all look at her with pity, it makes her want to slap them all across the face. Who were they to make her feel like shit, she didn't need anyone that didn't make her pathetic.

Finally one of the husbands cracks the awkward tension by introducing himself, she tries her best to ignore the pervasive way his eyes run down her body. Instinctively she crosses her arms, feeling naked under his stare. Nobody else notices her discomfort and after all the introductions, they all walk away as if she's no longer worth their time.

Lump in her throat she walks into the hotel, determined not to show them that they've gotten under her skin.

There's a scheduled lunch and she tries to find a new table but Sung-Mi waves her over and she doesn't see anyone else she recognizes or wants to sit with.

He hadn't been wrong, she has no friends besides Mi-seon.

"You were looking around, were you looking for someone? Are we not good enough to sit with?" The question is asked with a bite and sneer as if the idea is laughable that she would ever be better than any of them.

She swallows her pride, "No nothing like that. I was merely looking around."

Sung-Mi looks satisfied as if putting her in her place has righted her world.

They begin a conversation that completely excludes her, regaling drama that she knows nothing about and doing nothing to bring her up to date or invite her to join. It's the polar opposite of her experience in the countryside and with shocking clarity she realizes that she wishes she were there, it's only been a few hours but she misses it. Nobody looks down on her there, no usually she's the only doing that she notes with shame.

"I'll find the restroom." She says to no one because none of them are paying her any mind except the husband with the wandering eyes and she would much rather not have that attention.

Thankfully the bathroom is empty and she has to stop herself from splashing water on her face, her make-up was done perfectly it would be a waste to ruin it. Pushing her hair behind her ears she takes a deep breath and then another until her head is clearer, the noise lessening.

"It's only a day and a night. You've suffered far worst."

With that lacking pep talk she exits the bathroom, almost colliding into a wall. Wait, no it's just a person- a chest to be specific. She looks up ready to apologize when a familiar face stops her in her tracks.

"What are you doing here?" She stares flabbergasted at him, more dressed up than she's ever seen him. In a white suit with a white vest, the tee-shirt peeking under the only thing that feels like him to her. And his white sneakers. She can't hide her surprise at his sudden appearance and without thinking she starts to pull him to the side, to avoid being seen but she's not fast enough and soon they are swarmed by her colleagues, before she even has a chance to talk to him.

"Aren't you the man from the picture?" Yoo-Jin asks blushing way too much for a married woman if her husband's cold stare means anything.

"The picture?" Du-sik replies, clearly confused.

"You're the guy that's chasing after her. She told us that you liked her and you were courting her." Sung-Mi answers for her, she wants to vanish. It would be better if she had never existed. Even non-existence would be better than this embarrassing moment. "I got a picture of you two last time, when you followed her."

His eyes ping-pong between the group and her and she realizes this is his chance to ruin her. After everything she's done, all her rude comments and snobby remarks about the town and people he cares for so much, this is his chance for revenge. He can laugh and deny any feelings for her, tell them all that she's a liar and he's never been interested in her, not even once. This is what is going to happen. She prepares herself for the fall out, surely after this she won't be able to show her face in Seoul again.

He starts to laugh and her stomach tightens, her palms are so sweaty.

Here it goes.

"Oh I guess she wanted to keep me a secret."

Wait. What. That doesn't sound like denial.

"We're together now. I finally bulldozed those walls and made her mine. Nice to meet you all I'm Hong Du-sik, Hye-Jin ah's boyfriend."

Her eyes widen as he bows and starts to shake hands with the husbands, the one that stared at her looking disappointed. Their handshake goes on for a second too long, eventually with the latter pulling away with a pained look. She's too confused to consider what that means.

"And you were so cold earlier saying you had no one. Did you want to make a fool of us?"

He answers for her, "It's nothing like that, my honey is still getting used to us. I'm sorry I'm so late I had something to take care of."

Her head is spinning too fast to keep up with everything happening and she's grateful when he excuses them and guides her outside with a large hand on her hip.

Fresh air is much appreciated and she takes in huge heaps of it as soon as they're free.

Then reality crashes down on her.

He knows about her lying.

He had called her bluff.

But he didn't out her.

"Why didn't you tell them the truth?" She finally manages to say, head still reeling.

But instead of answering he's staring at her legs, then slowly his eyes swivel upward cross her thighs curving around her hips, past her breasts (a bit too slow there) before moving to her collar and settling on her face.

"You look great."

She feels the heat rushing to her face. What was he doing to her?

It hadn't been in purpose but she finds herself in red again, an a line dress with criss crossing straps over her shoulder and a middle slit. It was conservative without being too formal or professional. She'd felt comfortable in it but now seeing that look on his face, comfort is the last thing she feels.

He was distracting her and she couldn't afford that with those harpies inside waiting for her downfall. They needed to get back on track.

"What are you doing here?" She tries again, but he responds with his own question, "Why did you tell them that I was chasing you?"

"It was a mistake. They thought we were together and I just....said that for no reason." It's half the truth.

"They don't seem like your friends. You looked like you needed someone on your side, so I just found myself saying we were together for no reason."

She looks at him blankly, heart pounding now. In her moment of weakness instead of kicking her, he'd lended a helping hand. What kind of person did it make her for expecting the former?

"So what now?" She asks still in disbelief that he's here and that he'd told people that there were dating, she would be angry and offended later that they had readily believed it. Perhaps it didn't seem too farfetched now with him looking like that right now.

"Well, don't look but they're watching us through the glass."

This time she finds herself turning to look and he's the one that has to stop her, he does so by suddenly grabbing her hand and tugging her into his body. She squeaks at the collision. Leaning down so his lips are level with her ear, he speaks, "We can give them a show. I'm happy to be your pretend boyfriend."

Why?

She yearns to ask him why he's willing to go this far for her? Why was he even here when she had never told him where the convention was taking place? But his words were hot on her ear and she's tired of being their source of entertainment so she nods looking up at him, "Just this once. I'm going to lean on you. Let me borrow your eraser and copy your homework."

He stares before a blinding smile graces his handsome face.

"Let's go then." His hand is heavy on her waist as he walks back towards the hotel, taking his role very seriously it seems.

He fits in perfectly. Able to talk about a plethora of topics to anyone he's introduced to and even she's impressed by him. Be it travel, philosophy or poetry he seems well versed in everything things that even she is ignorant to and it makes her regret the way she looked down on him before, he was anything but a country bumpkin.

She leaves him to his conversation to get a drink, a whiskey on the rocks. Needing something hard tonight.

Not that. Down brain.

"Yoon Hye Jin? I would recognize that face anywhere."

Twisting to face the voice, she sees a familiar face- old classmate. Rung Do-Bae, they weren't anything more than classmates despite his many, many attempts.

His eyes sweep over her hungrily. She swallows her drink, painting on a shallow smile.

"Sunbae, how nice to see you here."

Invading her space he grabs her hand, "There is no need for such formalities. You can just call me by my name, Hye Jin ah."

As if she ever would.

Gently she tries to extract her hand but he won't let go and she doesn't want to make a scene.

Suddenly she's warmed by a body pressing into her, she knows who it is without even looking, her body relaxes immediately.

"Sorry I got lost in conversation honey. Who might this be? Another friend of yours?" He thrusts his right hand out and Do-Bae has no choice but to release her hand to return his handshake. Scarily enough she's starting to become used to his nickname, barely reacting to him using it again.

"Yes, this is my sunbae from school. Sunbae this is Hong Du Sik my....."

She knows that this is all an act, they were doing this to help her but she can't bring her tongue to form around the word, boyfriend.

"Her boyfriend." He finishes for her, pulling her tighter to his body.

But Do-Bae looks suspicious now.

"Boyfriend? I thought you were still single. You never changed your status on SNS. I've checked."

"Why are you so curious about that?" Du-sik challenges in return, doing a great job of sounding like a jealous boyfriend. She's almost even convinced.

"Hye Jin ah and I have always had a very special relationship. Beyond that of a hoobae and sunbae. Isn't that right?" He directs the last bit to her and she feels Du-sik stiffen next to her, seemingly believing these lies. So she clears that up.

"I have no idea what you're referring to honestly. We have never had anything that would constitute as a "special" relationship. I would appreciate if you didn't spread such lies, especially to my boyfriend. Enjoy the rest of your night."

She tugs Du-sik away, not waiting for a reply from the other man. The conversation was over anyway.

When they get far enough he speaks, "You have a lot of admirers."

She raises an eyebrow at the non-sequitur.

"Are you surprised?"

He brushes a hand across her cheek, making her freeze.

"No. It makes sense."

She blinks slowly before laughing, it sounds fake even to her ears.

"You should have been an actor. Your acting skills are incredible." He doesn't laugh, doesn't move before they're pulled into another conversation and she tries not to think about how tightly his body is pressed against her own.

"How is he in bed? He hasn't left you alone all day, I bet it's passionate." As soon as lunch had ended they had invited her to a spa, she'd considered saying no but she knew they would talk about her even if she wasn't there so it was best to at least know what they were saying.

Du-sik looked sad to see her go, but she told herself that she wasn't good at reading his faces. They hardly knew each other.

"I can't remember the last time I had a passionate night of sex. Kids and a full time job, leave no time for that. I'm pretty sure he's cheating on me and I'm too tired to even care." Sung-Mi confesses and she's shocked when the others nod in agreement instead of threatening to castrate him, as she'd done when Mi-seon told her about her ex boyfriend cheating.

"I have no complaints. He's... attentive. He's always touching me and pushing his way into my space. He's gentle but passionate, and I like...that he's so much bigger than me." She knows she should stop, this is definitely taking the lies too far. But that night bleeds into her thoughts, making everything she's saying feel true. He'd been so gentle with her, those huge hands cupping her face. She wondered how they would feel on other parts of her body.

"Damn. Look at you getting horny just from remembering. I'm so jealous."

Jealous. There were envious of her, it was all she'd been hoping for but the happiness she expected to erupt never comes. Instead she feels cheap, like she'd used Du-sik for her own benefit. She had tainted that night. This wasn't what she wanted.

As the day had gone on she found herself looking at him too much, he'd come all the way just for her and regardless of her brain trying to minimize that, it was huge. He hated snobby people like them who based a person's worth in their monetary success and yet he put on a smile and chatted with everyone, letting them mock his way of life and call people like him useless dreamers. All while she did nothing to defend him and drank wine, happy that they were being accepted.

He was the perfect gentleman all day and he was getting nothing in return for this. It was all just to help her.

Would a friend truly go this far to help? Was she being naive or was it like Mi-seon said, was she lying to herself?

"I'm such an idiot."

Without another word, she flees the sauna rushing to the locker room and changing back into her clothes. Nobody follows her because they aren't her friends. Why had she wasted so much time trying to impress these people who aren't even truly happy in their own lives?

The drive back is long, and she doesn't know what she's going to say but she knows that she's tired of being scared.

Leaving the key in the car she rushes past the valet, into the hotel elevator pressing their floor and waiting impatiently.

It takes three tries to get into their hotel room but once the door opens, he's right there. Sitting in the seat by the window reading a book.

"You're back early. I thought you would be gone until three?" He looks up, dog earring his book and giving her his full attention. Her heart skips a beat.

"Why did you agree to do this for me? Why go through all this trouble for me?"

It's the same question he's been asking himself since he first met her. Why was he was interested in her and why did he keep wanting to save her?

It was the desire that led to him being here.

He had accidentally overhead Mi-seon talking to Eun Chol about being worried about her, the convention was overnight and everyone would be bringing someone and she'd be all alone. The thought of her alone and isolated, made him race to her without a plan. Only stopping at a store to buy his outfit so he would fit in with her crowd, he'd spent more in that shop then he usually did in a week. But it was worth it for her.

It was a miracle that she hadn't questioned his presence more, he knew it was shameless and deceiving but none of this felt like pretending to him. His jealousy had been real, he'd had to strangle the urge to kick the pervert husband with the wandering eyes and then the insistent sunbae who wouldn't take a hint. She was a vision in the red dress and it wasn't a surprise that men found her enchanting, he just didn't like them looking at her. But she wasn't his, never would be because he couldn't confess.

They weren't right for each other.

"Do you like me?"

That question again. Last time he had laughed it off, called it absurd. But it wasn't. Not liking her would have been absurd.

"I don't know why you're asking me that."

"Because I'm tired of us lying to ourselves. Don't laugh and don't you dare say it's absurd again."

He can't respond, he's stuck on the word "us". It wasn't just him, they were an us?

Hearing that gives him courage he had long thought had been most forever.

"I wasn't pretending today. Nothing was fake to me, I meant it all." It's terrifying, unchartered land for them and he waits to see which one of them will chicken out first. It's sure to happen.

"I'm going to kiss you." She says instead of running like he expected and secretly wished for.

And then she's crossing the room and leaning down to grab his face, she watches him giving him a chance to pull away but he does the opposite, this time he meeting her half way. As soon as their lips meet the kiss is already too much, she's sliding into his lap and he wraps his arms around her tugging her closer until their chests are squished together.

He hasn't kissed anyone like this in a long time.

Hasn't been this close to losing control in a longer time.

"You're dangerous." He whispers into her mouth and she giggles at the statement, wiggling in his arms and rolling into him forcing a punched out groan from his lips.

Carefully he lifts her shirt watching her face closely for any signs that she wants to stop but finding nothing but her palpable lust.

Her skin is unbelievably smooth and soft and he can't stop himself from stroking her, rubbing at her back his hands resting right above her butt.

"How long have you felt this way?" She asks softly seductively nipping at his neck and running a hand over his shirt to caress his stomach, he physically aches for her.

"I wanted you the moment I saw you. But I didn't feel this until you convinced grandma to get her implants. That was when it became more for me."

She looks surprised and he is too, that they're speaking so candidly about feelings they've always denied.

"What about you?"

She stops licking at his neck to look him in the eyes. He's nervous to hear her reply.

"I.... don't know."

He tries to hide his disappointment. Maybe she was starting to retreat back into her shell. Maybe he shouldn't have been so honest.

He's about to untangle them when she continues, "It wasn't at first sight but one day I found myself looking for you. Seeing you become the best part of my day, I started to count on you to be there for me. To expect it. Just like this, I've been scared to lean on anyone until I met you."

Now that's a confession.

Impulsively he stands with her still on his lap, forcing her to to latch onto him so she doesn't tumble to the floor. Not that this would ever happen because he would never let her fall.

"I could have fell!" She cries, clinging to his shoulders and wrapping her legs around his waist. Her half naked bra clad body so close to him is causing another biological crisis in his pants.

Walking to the large bed in the middle of the room he falls backwards, enjoying the view of her on top of him a little too much.

It's all probably too soon and they should probably slow down, but his body is strumming and he wants nothing more than to break her apart.

"I'm all sweaty. I should take a shower."

Instantly an image of her wet and naked under the downpour of a shower flashes in his mind and he has to twist away from her.

"Pervert." She accuses but he can hear how satisfied she is with his reaction. Damn tease.

"Do you want to join me?" She teases some more, having fun now that she knows her power over him.

He looks at her helplessly.

"Are you having fun? Remember what I told you before? I'm still a guy. You're sitting here in your bra taunting me, do you think I'm that much of a good guy? Do you think I don't want to throw you down, rip your clothes off and eat you alive? I'm so hard right now just seeing you naked would be enough to push me over the edge. So don't make propositions you can't follow through on."

She looks dizzy from his words, eyes hooded and glossy. He watches her gulp and then stagger off to the bathroom, without a word to him. It's probably for the best, everything is too charged right now.

A shower for her and many glasses of water for him later, she's back and it's almost time for dinner.

"I think they said dinner starts at 6. Should we head down?"

She glances at him, while opening her bag and pulling out skin creams and some fuzzy socks.

"Would you be opposed to ordering room service and staying here?"

It's the best offer he's heard all day, only second to her asking if he wanted to join her in the shower.

"What about your colleagues?" He asks to make certain that she's really okay with this.

"What about them?" She replies with a shrug and he grins picking up the room service menu.

They order too much food and not enough alcohol but neither of them want to forget this night. She tells him stories about her time in dental school and he's happy to get to know her better, chuckling at the funny stories and commiserating at the sad ones.

Before he knows it night has fallen.

And he realizes that they'll be sharing a bed. Unless she wants him to sleep on the couch.

She's wearing a big shirt and loose shorts and he still can't believe he gets to see her like this.

"Are you coming to bed?" She's already getting under the sheet and that answers his question, this is really happening. He starts to follow her lead, getting under the sheets but keeping a respectable distance between them.

"I'm cold." She announces suddenly and he starts to look for a thermostat in the room or an extra blanket, before realizing that she's looking at him over her shoulder, he stares back confused before she lifts an eyebrow and oh, he gets it. Carefully moving closer he feels her warmth surround him as they meet, forth to back.

"Took you long enough." She grumbles, pulling his arm over here body and settling back into him moving until she's comfortable.

She's so close and warm and her smell is all around him and he feels his restraint dissolving and when she presses back into him, her hip rubbing against his crotch he bites down on his bottom lip.

It's too much for him to resist and without warning or preamble, he's turning her to face him and swallowing her moan of surprise eagerly. He grabs her head firmly holding her in place and slips his tongue into her open mouth, her unique taste exploding on his taste buds. He's hungry for more. So he starts to tug down her shorts, heart beat thundering in his groin. She kicks the shorts away, and he groans at the sight of her panties she was trying to kill him, he was certain.

"You're the devil." He chokes out staring at red lace, he'll never be able to see the color again without getting a raging hard on.

"You haven't seen anything yet. Honey." The word drips from her tongue just like the real thing.

Forgetting all reason and logics he lunges at her, devouring her mouth and sticking his hand in her panties. She's so warm and fuck, wet drenching his fingers.

Simultaneously he thrusts his tongue into her mouth and his fingers in her wet folds, groaning as she melts like butter under his touch. There's no resistance, as he plunges two fingers inside her experimentally before picking up his place when she clutches onto him and grinds back on his fingers, begging the whole time.

"More, more, please!"

As if he could ever deny her anything, with one hand he grabs her ass and the other he thrusts into her opening over and over until her voice gets breathy and she starts to stutter, squirming wildly in his arms and he knows exactly what's coming: the beautiful end. So without warning he pulls back the sheet and slithers down her body, throwing her legs around his head and pushing his tongue in to the brim, hungrily drinking at her until she shakes and combusts in his arms. Sweet on his tongue, he swallows it all greedily.

He strokes her as she recovers from her high, climbing back up her body. So much for taking things slow, but he can't even think about regretting it when he sees the blissed out look on her face. He wants to imprint it in his mind. Nobody else will ever get to see this face but him.

"It's your turn." She says sounding loopy like she's drunk and he laughs as she reaches for the tent in his pants but misses his bulge and instead falls into him.

"You're tired. Go to sleep. That was enough for me, seeing you like that fulfilled every fantasy I've had. "

He truly means it. He's a giver. And it's not like he can't tug one out later in the bathroom with her face and moans playing on repeat in his brain.

She starts to argue, but her phone vibrating on the nightstand distracts her. Reaching over she picks it up before chuckling and flopping back into the bed.

"What?" He asks curious, jealous of whoever is making her smile like that.

Ignorant to his inner thoughts, she thrusts her phone into his face. The room is so dark it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the bright lighting of the phone, but once he can see he reads the message on her phone and starts to laugh too.

"Dusik is missing! Nobody has seen him all day!! We started a search party."

[bonny-kookoo]

Bunny Boy (JJK x Reader)☁️⚠️🔪(💜)🔞 Part 1

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Yandere!AU, Stalker!AU, questionable romance, smut, Oneshot

Warnings: (oh boy) Stalking, Obsession, Yandere themes, cute Koo but aggressive, he ready to fight, graphic description of violence, blood, very twisted JK, oblivious! Reader, kinda Stockholm-syndrome Reader?, soft romantic lovemaking, body worship, Dom! Jungkook, Sub! Reader, Handjob (fem. receiving), oral (fem. receiving), protected sex because even with your mind scrambled up in a frying pan we still wrap it before tapping it y’all hear me STDs ain’t cute Susan

Summary: It all started with a hello kitty charm.

A/N:(IMPORTANT) I’d like to note here that I do not condone nor romanticize any of the things depicted in this. This is purely fictional, and only to be seen as a work of art, not as a depiction of real life relationships. For short: if he a creep, kick his balls, don’t kiss. Thank you.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part?

Whenever you slept, he had to think of an angel portrayed in an old painting displayed in a museum he'd seen when he had been a kid, years ago. He remembers its features, flawless and so carefully drawn that it edged on perfection. It couldn't have been however, he knew that much. Because the painting wasn't of you.

The sheets had fallen all over the place during the night- you sometimes moved during your period of unconsciousness he'd noticed, which wasn't unusual for you. It had been more often and severe these days however; probably because of the stress you experienced at work nowadays. It was okay though, he though to himself. He'd taken care of that for you, just so you could finally rest in peace again. Just like he'd decided almost a year ago.

"You lost this, I think.." A voice spoke behind you, as you turned around, eyes looking straight at some american writing on a black t-shirt, then a jean-jacket thrown over, until your eyes raised, spotting a silver chain necklace- not one of those large ones guys wore to impress, but a rather delicate looking one. Your eyes found soft looking lips, the upper one smaller than the lower, slightly parted like a doll frozen in time, before you saw a prominent nose, a slight scar on his cheek, and eyes wide open; a dark chocolate brown, reflecting the artificial lights of the grocery store, shining all around you as they tried to advertise several products to the people browsing the isles. His hair was a bit curly, dark and only mildly styled you assumed. He stood way taller than you did, the main reason you had first made eye contact with his chest rather than his face-

He was handsome.

You stuttered a bit as you looked at the hello kitty charm, a simple one you'd hung on your phonecase, for the aesthetic and sole reason that you liked the cat character a lot. "T-Thanks.." You said, and your voice made his eyes widen even further, before he flashed you a bright smile, bunny like teeth giving him a charm that completely contradicted his entire punk-like attire he wore, combat boots stepping back a bit to give you a bit more space, sensing how his close presence made you feel pressured.

What a nice gesture.

"Jungkook." He said, and you nodded, giving him your name as an exchange.

Unknowing where this would lead.

His phone chimed with the familiar tune of his alarm, making him simply tap away at the screen without breaking eye contact with you. This was his favorite moment of the start of his day.

You moved around a bit more, the screen of your phone bright and annoying, just how you intended it to be. He knew that you were quite the sleepyhead, cherishing your dreams and cozy blankets like no other around him he knew. That's why your phone had an extra obnoxious tune to it to wake you up, screen as bright as possible to drown the entire room in its glow, so you had to move around. Your eyes opened slightly, pout ever so endearingly present on your lips as you sat up, raising your arms to stretch them above, making him swallow his saliva as he saw how your shirt raised up, revealing the soft skin of your belly, and the slight peak of your cotton underwear. He loved how you always put comfort over visual appearance- you didn't need fancy clothing to look absolutely divine in his eyes, after all.

He had to remember his task at hand however, grabbing his phone with a bit of hectic, before he dialed a number, waiting until your screen lit up. You instantly took on the call, not looking at who's calling.

Did you know it was him? Or is were you so careless all the time?

"Goo'mornin' Kookie.." You drawled into your phone, and his entire previous thoughts flew out his window, his eyes closing at the sound of your slightly raspy voice, his nerves instantly soothed at the fact that for another day he'd managed to become the first person you would talk to.

"Good morning angel." He said, voice low and smooth, just how you always told him you liked it. He watched as the corners of your lips turned upwards, a smile only dedicated to him, even if he technically wasn't supposed to see it. It made it the more special to see. "Did you sleep well?" He asked, and you nodded. Silly girl he thought. You noticed your mistake before sleepily giggling to yourself, yawning before answering him verbally. He cooed at you internally. You were so cute.

"Hmhm. Had a bad dream though." You said, and his heart clenched at the way your lips lowered a bit with the remembrance of whatever had happened during your slumber. He wished he could invade your very thoughts, keep even your own demons tormenting your precious time of rest at bay, kill them off with a shot straight to their cores, just to have you safe. "but you were there 'n fought the monsters." You said with a smile, and his eyes widened. Maybe he really was invading your thoughts just like you did with his. Was your connection really already that strong? He watched the clock on the very corner of his laptop, keeping an eye on the time. He didn't want you to be late, after all.

"That's right, I'm always keeping you safe." He hummed, and you sleepily replied with a confirmation of his statement. "Now get ready, or you're gonna be late baby." He said, the nicknames still foreign yet oh so sweet on his tongue whenever he said them. He could finally speak them out loud, finally give them to you regularly, and it had been a firework of emotions ever since. He could never get tired of the way it made you squirm, giving him a teaser of what you could look like underneath him, bare and ready for his taking. Just the thought alone made his pants tighten around him, making him force composure down his throat- at least for the moment. "I know you're still in bed. Go and get dressed, don't make your coworkers wait. Love you angel." He said, and waited for you to say the same words to him again, as a form of farewell and confirmation alike.

"Hmhm, love you too, Kook." You said, and disconnected the call, giving him finally freedom to groan out loud, hands scrambling with his pants, fingers working on the button and fly with desperation as he pulled his half hard length out of his underwear, moving his fingers around as his eyes never left your form on his screen, bare legs softly walking up to your dresser. As you discarded your shirt, leaving you bare, his grasp tightened a bit, air coming out in gasps as you stretched yourself so deliciously like a feline did- your back arching enticingly, breasts on full display for him, before you started to bend down, looking for something to cover them, probably.

His mind started to come up with visions of you, arching your back underneath him like that, speared on his cock, mewling alluringly, delicate hands frantically searching for something to hold onto as he would push himself inside you again and again, your name falling from your lips in a manner he couldn't even imagine yet.

Would your voice raise in pitch? Would you only huff, gasping without a tune? Or were you a screamer?

He didn't know yet, but he knew he was close to making these mere dreams a reality with you. He'd finally managed to show you his love for you after all, finally making you see how you belonged to him and him only- you had finally accepted him and your destiny at his side. When he'd first met you, you were so sweet yet so.. dumb. You didn't notice, didn't feel the connection- but he was patient. He was able to wait, to hint you at it the best he could, to softly lead you into his awaiting arms, to serve you and worship you like the goddess you were. You had started to finally connect the obvious strings of fate to him, kissing his lips in such a shy manner that he still felt his veins buzz from the euphoria he'd felt that day.

The day he got kissed by an angel, by his soulmate, his other missing part.

He spied on you as you worked away, busy like a bee, ever so hardworking he thought. You didn't deserve to work at all in his opinion, your hands too delicate to be endangered by maybe scolding yourself on hot water or coffee that you made every day for absolute strangers or regular costumers; yet you were so happy at your job that he had to be gentle at slowly showing you that this wasn't where you were supposed to be. The amount of people looking at you every day made bile rise in his throat, making him feel like vomiting every time he saw the way you smiled at another man.

It was even with woman, he'd noticed recently. He didn't care much about the elderly, but he could sometimes spot girls your age eyeing you down like you were a rare diamond behind glass, admiring you like they shouldn't be allowed to. He understood them to an extend, he'd admit that much; your visuals were magical, absolutely breathtaking, making him almost sympathize with the people being drawn towards you. Your soul was so soft and gentle that people naturally felt comfortable around you- too comfortable, if anyone would ask Jungkook himself for his opinion on that matter.

Just like right now; the guy you once went to school with as he'd found out after photographing his face and running a google search on him, finding his facebook and other social media accounts on his hunt. He hadn't really tried to stay in contact with you after you both graduated, dating girls left and right like he was a 12-year old collecting pokemon cards, posting disgusting things such as post workout pictures, bathing in attention of strangers who'd never really met him. It was disgusting, really; Jungkook himself had given himself away to others before as well, but his counter was standing at a number easily displayed on one hand. With this guy however, that was way more difficult to portray. He'd collected information on his past affairs as well, after all. He wondered what you would say if you knew he even slept with men in his freetime, selling himself like a whore just for animalistic pleasures and his own satisfaction. He almost felt himself gag at the thought of you possibly falling into this man's trap.

Thank the heavens he'd found you first.

He saw how uncomfortable you felt around that guy however, even your naive self sensing something malicious behind his attention seeking behavior towards you. He'd overheard you telling him multiple times how happy you were with Jungkook, yet the guy simple did not take the hint, speaking over your words as if they didn't hold any significance at all, uncaring of how you hated not being taken seriously by others.

How nauseating.

Jungkook looked at the passenger seat next to him, cold eyes gazing at the silvery tape and plastic bag, his glove clothed hands gripping the steering wheel in determination as he turned his face again, patiently waiting as that demon payed for his coffee, finally leaving the cafe after sending you another look. Jungkook cracked his neck. He had to do it.

He was doing it for you.

You'd understand.

Seoul's nights were mostly starless, due to the amounts of artificial lights blending out the galaxies above everyone's head's. It was quite tragic to him, really, because as he watched the colourfully lit up Bridge blend into the distance behind him as he drove further and further away from the city, the nightsky above him got clearer and clearer, as if the earth was revealing itself with every kilometer he brought between himself and the buzzing citylife.

He'd bring you out to a trip far away one day. Maybe camping, you always told him how you found these things quite romantic- roasting marshmallows over a small fire, stargazing, and sleeping in each others arms to converse heat in stuffy sleeping bags. Oh, he loved this already. He'd work a little overtime at his job to get enough money together so he could maybe even rent a small van. Or would his small car suffice for you? Maybe it was better to use the smaller space of his own vehicle- the less space meaning being closer to you, after all.

As he opened his window a bit, he breathed in the almost icy air from the outside, not much sound heard apart from his car's engine and wheels on the road, monotonous sound making him feel less concentrated than he should be. But he knew these roads, thankfully. Luckily for him the air inside his car was waking him up a little bit, as he turned around a corner, Jungkook clicked his tongue in annoyance as he felt something on the backseat of his car tumble down behind the seats. Hopefully the bag didn't rip. He had a spare one with him though.

He was organized, after all.

It was something that you always praised about him, making his chest feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He loved whenever you told him how handsome he was, how you always felt so appreciated whenever he held the door for you or helped you with simply mundane things. He didn't care about anyone else's comments about him; when you were happy with him, he was happy with himself as well. Your opinion of him mattered most- everyone else's only served as a safety cushion if you will.

He knew you would probably feel a bit upset with the tragedy that befell your former classmate- but he was insignificant. He had no good intentions, he knew that much, and now, he'd ridden the world of such a nuisance, cleansing it from another rotting soul. In a way he felt like he'd done a great job, as if he'd done something important. If ghosts existed, Jungkook hoped that this young man's was thankful for finally being freed of it's miserable existence. Even though he have had all the rights to make him suffer, he'd made it quick and simple, keeping things clean and sharply cut.

Pulling on the parking break in his car, he shut down the engine, before he opened his car door, stepping outside and stretching his arms. He'd definitely pulled a muscle carrying this dudes body into his car- the weight much more heavy than he'd initially thought. But that would pass. Maybe it was his punishment for not acting sooner, not getting things done immediately. His dad had always slapped that part of his neck too whenever he messed things up. He still remembered that to this day.

The memory made him shudder.

Sighing, he opened the door to the backseats, part of the plastic-wrapped body falling a bit out, making Jungkook huff a bit in frustration. He pulled on it, assuming it was his head, letting the weight fall down onto the ground, a low thud and a bit of dust covering his black sweatpants and combat boots.

He'd clean them up at home.

Heaving the body onto his back as to not rip the well made covering, he began to collect rocks nearby, stuffing them into the bag carefully, adding weight as much as he could, while still making it possible for him to shove the body over the banisters placed on the edge of the cliffs before finally securing more tape around the bag to make sure the rocks couldn't simply tumble out and leave their destined place inside. Jungkooks gaze was still cold, icy, as he finished his work with an almost bored expression, finally hefting the heavy weight over the metal bars, before he let it fall with a groan on his side, Neck still hurting. He watched as the body hit the water's surface, white splatters shooting in circle formations around the bullet-like hole in the waves before the darkness swallowed it whole, leaving nothing behind but a few air bubbles.

Jungkook took a deep breath, watching for a moment before turning his gaze to the stars above, clouds slowly shielding the nightsky from his vision as if the heavens above closed their eyes- not looking at his actions.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, making him remove his black glove, unlocking it with his fingerprint skillfully, smile already on his lips. 'I'm gonna be done in half an hour. Do you wanna get some late night Ramen with me and eat it at my place?' you wrote, silly emojis making him imagine the pink hue on your cheeks as you wrote these lines to him.

Now that he thought about it, he was quite hungry.

"Jungkookie, here!" You said, waving at him as he spotted you, bunny grin sent your war as he walked over, immediately pulling you into his open arms, his nose nuzzling your neck as if he needed to claim you like an animal. It tickled you a bit and you giggled, making him chuckle as well as he kissed your cheek, before he took your hand into his, walking you to his car as he looked at the plastic bags in your hand.

"Why did you buy them yourself angel? You could've waited and I could've payed." He whined, and you scoffed a bit, blushing at the way he seemed to be pouty over the fact that he couldn't be all gentlemanly like he always said he wanted to. Having told him how it made you feel so special inside whenever he did these things, he made sure to do them for you as much as possible. He shuddered at the fact that you'd once told him that your ex boyfriend never did these things such as holding the door for you or help you grocery shopping. The same night however you thankfully told him that you were still pure; having never been touched intimately before, a piece of information that had made his pants tighten embarrassingly fast, the simple revelation that you were still untainted and his for the taking making him feel starved. Yet he had controlled himself, not wanting to rush things. You were a bit skittish, easily overwhelmed with things, so he knew not to push anything too fast too far.

Loosing you could be fatal for the both of you, after all.

"Ah, but its fine Kookie." You said, thanking him after he'd opened the car door for you, closing it after you had gotten inside the passenger seat after you with a smile. Jungkook really was a special guy; he seemed to cherish the old ways of courting a girl- something that had made him be seen as a 'softie' in your group of friends, the girls constantly making fun of the way he acted around you. It made you feel more and more upset the more time went by; after all you really loved Jungkook and the way he made you feel. You both were happy- why did they need to make fun of that?

"Angel?" He asked, and you snapped your head towards him, humming an answer and proving to him that you weren't paying any attention. His eyebrows furrowed a bit, and for a split second you thought he was mad, but his voice didn't hold any bad feelings at all- only slight concern. "Is everything okay? If you're tired I can drive you home-" He said, stopping at a red light and using that moment to look at you. You didn't look physically sick to him, yet your face told him how something was bothering you inside. He'd studied your features for longer than he'd like to admit, making it impossible for you to hide anything from him at all. "Or is something troubling you?" He said lowly, his eyes suddenly fogging over with a look you could not quite describe.

It made your spine tingle and your skin shudder, however.

"I just.." You said, trying to figure out what to say concerning this topic. Jungkook was emotionally very easily affected, you knew that; something that made it even more difficult to bring that topic up. You didn't want to hurt his pride or his ego concerning his manliness. "The girls at work they uhm.. they were making fun of you a little bit for being so, you know, soft and sweet to me-" you said, making him raise his brows and open his eyes more, his innocent doe-look returning into his face as he looked forwards to continue driving. You immediately raised your voice a bit, hand instinctively touching the one not on the steering wheel as a form of confirmation for your next words. "But I don't think that at all, I think you're really nice, and strong, and you know, manly and all that.." you said, ears slowly turning red as you noticed how that sounded. Jungkook simply smiled, his eyes reflecting the traffic lights like mirrors.

It made him seem almost ethereal to you.

"So you think I'm hot?" He asked, and you sunk down in your seat, fiddling with your fingers as you nodded, making him giggle a bit, and ruffle your hair playfully, before interlacing his fingers with yours, holding them towards his lips to kiss the back of your hand. "Thank you Angel. So that's what you were worried about? That I'd feel hurt by the words of your friends?" He asked, glancing your way for a split second before looking forward again. He wished he could look both ways at the same time; the short image he'd gotten of your form so shy and adorable sitting right next to him looking like a scene out of a movie he'd never stop watching. You nodded again, and he parked in front of your apartment complex, grinning your way as he turned off the engine. "You're so sweet, angel." He said, while you whined, opening the door to escape his laughter-

While failing to wipe your own smile off of your lips, uncaring on how his car had smelled a bit weird.

You were still so oblivious to everything around you.

When he'd left after your last dinner together, you'd again refused to let him drive you to work. You had a split shift during the week, working in the mornings for a few hours before continuing your shift later that evening. It made him feel uneasy knowing that you had to get out of the house so early, and coming home so late at night- yet you still trusted your own driving skills enough to not let him help you with these things. He knew this was okay, but it didn't make the fact less frustrating for him.

He needed to keep your trust. He needed you to be scared of things. He needed to keep you needing him.

The only way to do that would be to show you what could happen when you didn't trust his judgement enough. He knew that you were just so fast at giving away important things such as trust to others; even to yourself. Yet Jungkook knew that he knew better- he knew best what was the best for you.

Even better than yourself.

He knew it would hurt, but you would understand. In the end, he was only showing you what would happen if you didn’t listen, if you didn’t trust him, didn’t do what he said- he needed you to feel your mistake, needed you to get scarred so you would always remember to stay at his side loyal like a dog, never to leave his sight ever again. He thought about this dream like vision, your hand in his, desperately seeking his attention, as his oil stained hands cut through the proper cables underneath your admittedly old car.

He never liked you driving by yourself anyways.

You were still so innocent, so stupidly oblivious to the dirt underneath everyone’s fingernails around you that it made his blood boil. But that was okay. Angels were naive creatures, he knew that. He would teach you how disgusting the world was to untainted beings like you, and afterwards he would keep you safe, keep your hand in his at all times, so no one could ever touch you again and blemish your skin. No one but him was allowed to corrupt you, to feel you, to have you lay in his arms as he filled you up and became one with your physical form at night.

And also;

Who said that you would ever find out that he was at fault?

"The breaks aren't working Jungkook, what am I supposed to do?!" You sobbed through the speaker of his phone, the one which he held calmly in his hand, his own vehicle parked at the sidelines of a road a bit further down your typical route, waiting. "I can't slow down- I'm so scared Jungkook what should I do-!" You whimpered again, and he closed his eyes for a moment, praying to the heavens above that they would forgive him for hurting one of their most precious fallen doves. But it was for the greater good- they'd understand, he was sure of it.

"Don't worry angel, you're gonna be okay-!" He said acting as if he was hurrying as well, even though he was still sitting peacefully inside his car, watching as the sun slowly turned the skies into twilight shades. Quite beautiful, really. "Can you slow down, somehow?!" He said, his voice cracking a bit as he got into his role, your voice telling him that you couldn't- the only way would be to drive into the woods and maybe try and crash the car. "Angel no, there's gotta be another way-" He sobbed, as he suddenly heard the line go silent.

He sniffled a bit, drying his eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, before he turned on his car, his phone showing the location of yours just a few meters away from him.

And there you were.

You car was a wreck, yet it seemed like it took most of the blow- you had actually taken the wood-option, using the bushes, foliage and brushwood as a form of emergency break before hitting a tree, which had split a bit from the impact, mushing your car against it like a piece of gum onto the underside of a shoe.

He carefully got out of his car, walking up to the drivers side, opening the door with a bit of difficulty- but he'd always loved working out, so in the end, his strength succeeded in opening the bent metal. He immediately caught your falling body, his heart breaking at the small cut over your eye, marks on your bare shoulder from where the seatbelt had pulled on your skin too roughly. Your arm looked like it was swollen, your leg bent in a direction it naturally wasn't supposed to as he pulled you out of the wreck, laying you down onto his lap as he sat down on the grassy ground, softly brushing the hairs away that had formed groups of single hairs stuck together by the blood that was already clogging and turning a bit darker. Oh how his soul hurt seeing you like this.

But this had needed to happen.

And as he called the ambulance with his phone, careful to sound as desperate as possible over the line, he failed to notice how your eyes weren't fully closed.

You were still conscious.

[marshmallowprotection]

Pspsps Kait

Ray, pulling you close to him with a smile on his lips, his eyes dangerous and yet so intoxicated with the sight of you, his precious tester, his sweet, lovely doll...

You won't have to worry about a thing, he'll keep you safe.

This is paradise, after all~

[Guess I'm writing more]

The only thing that was on her mind was how staring at these screens all at once gave her whiplash. There was so much winding information coming across each and every one of them and it was hard to focus on just one.

She had no idea how she did it.

Then again, it wasn't like he had a choice. He had to do it. There was no stopping in the middle of something. He just had to accept it. She still felt as though she was in a daze, and her mind was cloudy. It was like she was in a dream that wouldn't stop. As if the world wasn't real. As if everything around her hadn't ever been real.

As if no amount of trying to figure out where she was, was going to give her the answer. In fact, was she dreaming? Kaitlyn couldn't say for sure. Who was to say that she wasn't trapped in her mind again?

Who was to say that she hadn't finally lost herself to the animated fantasy that she always put herself into? Every time that she tried to say something it felt like the words were just cotton in her mouth. It was an incredibly uncomfortable sensation and she didn't like it.

That was what made her pause.

That was just the thing, though, if it was some kind of a daydream or just a dream, then she wouldn't be feeling any kind of discomfort in her body. She never imagined pain like that.

Her fantasy had always been an escape from reality and she couldn't figure out why she would imagine such uncomfortable feelings.

It just didn't make any sense. It was always possible that she was dreaming and the pain was happening outside of the dream.

It wouldn't have been the first time that she had a flair. So, it kind of made sense if she thought about it like that. But this did not change the fact that there was some worse pain than the feeling of a dry mouth. Her head felt like it was splitting into pieces.

She had migraines so that wasn't weird but this was different. This was a kind of pain that she had never felt before. It was like it was on fire and drenched at the same time. She would have described it as the feeling of oil on fire on top of the water.

It was like she wanted to wipe it away but no amount of trying to do it would make it better. It would just cling to her skin and stick to her. It made her feel the flames and the weight of the oil. If she struggled against it it would just make her sink into the ocean.

She wanted to curl up and make the pain go away. It was hard to sit up straight. She wasn't sure how she was doing it. Every time she got close to making sense of what she was feeling, she would lose her train of thought as she stared at the monitors.

The bright colors and numbers flashing against the screens did nothing but make her forget everything that she was doing. It was like she was on the cusp of understanding what was wrong, but she was too busy being locked in her own body.

Yes, that's what she would call it.

It was like she was inside her body but she was also on autopilot.

It was like she wasn't in control at all. But that expanded the real question she had, if she wasn't in control of herself, then who was? She just sat there in front of the flashing lights, unable to remember how she got there and why she was there.

What had she been doing?

Writing…?

That didn't sound right though… she didn't write at a desk when she worked… she didn't even have a desk. She didn't own many monitors, either.

"You've been a good princess. I was afraid you might be anxious I left you for too long," a pair of gloved hands pressed against either side of her shoulder and she blinked once, the masculine voice coming as a surprise to her… it sounded familiar… It sounded so pretty. "Thanks for waiting so patiently."

Did she know him?

She felt like she knew who he was. But, his name wasn't coming to mind. She wasn't even sure of her own name at that point. It was all a cloudy feeling.

She opened her mouth to say anything, something, but a dry feeling happened. She let a grimace overtake her features and looked down from the screens. She couldn't talk to him.

It hurt.

It hurt!

It hurt so much she didn’t know what to do.

"It hurts, right? I'm sorry… I'm sorry to cause you discomfort. Don't worry, this is a pain that won't last. It's okay if you're a little upset… but I'm here for you. I'm so happy that you're healing properly, to be honest with you. You must feel like you're floating, huh?" His voice continued to say more, this time closer to her right side as his breath tickled her cheek.

The stranger’s arms came to rest around her shoulders. She looked back at him to see eyes that seemed to glow in the reflection of the monitors. She knew those eyes, they sparkled like emeralds, and it made her feel warm for some reason.

She knew him.

She knew him, he was—

Her brown eyes widened and this dreamy smile appeared on her face as she seemed to finally remember who he was and why his voice felt so familiar. She didn't know why she was here with him, or how it'd be even possible for her to be with him. But, he was right in front of her and nothing else mattered.

"It's you, Ray."

Ray?

Oh, right... she liked Ray... but, how was Ray real? It must have been a dream, she reasoned, she must've been having a bad episode of pain and she was dreaming. That's why it hurt... that's why it felt so floaty and disjointed... that's why she thought everything felt weird.

She's just dreaming, she thinks.

If it really is a dream... she has nothing to worry about, after all, she'll wake up eventually and he'll be gone but her heart will still be tickled by the feeling of his hands around her like this. She still feels off, but Ray is here, that's all she needs.

"That's right, it's me," his voice speaks again as she's fascinated by his eyes too much to look away. "I know you've been hurting... but, may I be selfish for a moment? Can I ask you to do a few things for me, princess?"

She smiled, that dreamy feeling still clouded over her mind but her desire to make him happy was stronger, so, she nodded as her eyes closed once more to ease the throbbing. "Of course, I can, Ray... I'd do... anything you want if you asked."

She would miss the way that Ray's smirk widened, emboldened by her words. "I'm so honored. Thank you, thank you very much. I'd love to ask you about... the RFA. Do you think you can tell me everything you know about them? It would help me so much to hear you talk about... your... friends."

Oh?

Was she daydreaming about playing his route?

"Hahahahaha..." a giggle escaped her lips as she looked back at him, as if surprised by his question, she said, "Ray, you're my favorite, you don't need to be jealous of the RFA. I like you more than them... you don't need to worry."

His hand cupped her cheek to make sure that she was looking back at him directly. "I know, I know... I'm so lucky I have an angel like you in my life. But, I really want to know what makes you like them less than me, princess. What about their... characters... make you like me more?"

"Don't get me started," she lifted her hand to brush against his but she missed entirely, fingers coming to rest against his sleeve as she felt the dark fabric against her palms. "I don't think I'd shut up about it if I got started... I don't want to bore you... I couldn't even talk to you like I talk to myself... even if this is my dream... even if you're just my fantasy... you wouldn't wanna..."

Silence overtook the room as he leaned in, brushing his lips against her own with a small nudge. It was a little clumsy but Ray made up for that fact with his confidence. "I want to hear everything you have to say, princess. Tell me about all of it. Tell me all of their dirty little secrets. I'll never stop listening."

She smiled, feeling his sincerity. "Well, for starters..."

[minty-malfoy]

milk and honey

• pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

• summary: when living feels like purgatory, you find heaven in the comfort of a lover.

• request: Hey i have a request. Can you write draco x female reader with a plot where she is totally pissed with life in sense where she has problems everywhere; school,home and draco is just being there for her and helping her through it. P.s: Include warm and comforting hugs and little pecks❤️

• warning tags: brief mentions of sensitive topics, but everything else is fluff

• word count: 1.2k

a/n: I wrote this at 2 am but I promise I tried proofreading at a more humane hour of the day. this is one of my older requests that I haven't gotten around to writing, hope you enjoy <3

Draco had just recently come to the bitter conclusion that— despite what you tell him— it didn't feel like you were doing alright. His hypothesis became factual on the days your eyes didn't reflect the smile on your lips, or on the days you huffed out more than once or twice, only to recoil into the grown habit of an "it's nothing"

Draco really did try to be an understanding boyfriend, in the sense that he never pestered, never once pushed a subject you were so persistent to avoid. He was stuck telling himself the same string of lies over and over, memorizing it like a mantra. That you were just having a bad day; that you'd talk about it when you'd feel ready, just like you promised; that you wouldn't carry lethal burdens on your own no matter how tempting it was to leave him out of your suffering.

But the moment he saw you arrive late to dinner with both eyes stained and puddled, he knew the predicament was no longer a fact— it was an urgency. One that he'd give anything in the world to eradicate.

You sat yourself beside him without muttering a single word, looking away to avoid the questions that would inevitably plunge out sooner or later. But they never came, instead being replaced by the warmth of a hand lacing itself into yours, fitting through the gaps of your fingers like a completed work of art.

That was how the two of you spent the rest of dinner, wrapped up in a comfortable and understanding silence. You didn't look at him, but you felt his hand never once leaving you, between sending slow soothing strokes down your back, holding your waist gently as he watched you nibble your food, or simply going back to hold your fingers in his.

No matter how concerned or hurt he was to see you miserable, Draco put in the effort of generously giving you a moment of time and space, he was determined to address the issue only when the storm inside you would have quieted down for all the rain and thunder to go away, so that this once, he could persuade you into telling him what exactly was bothering you this entire time. Then, better yet, put a permanent end to it.

By the time the two of you walked out of the Great Hall, he didn't walk you through the regular direction towards your common room, but instead led you to a destination you were yet to discover. It confused you, but you didn't object him slowly leading the way.

You didn't expect to end up in the courtyard, but here you were, in the hands of your concerned lover, accompanied by nothing but the night and the distant sound of crickets chirping.

His hands met yours nearly as fast as his eyes did, in which concern decorated both orbs like a christmas ornament. Icy greys glimmering just as bright as the moonlight, pulling you in to briefly discard all your troubles and worries for a moment, until he brought you back into the present with his words.

"What's wrong?"

The question was firm and delicate, overflowing with all the love he had for you. You realized you couldn't bear lying to him anymore.

"Everything." Your voice cracked.

It was almost visible the way his heart had dropped in his chest, but he didn't want it to be. This was about you, and only you. Anything else wasn't supposed to matter in the moment.

Before Draco could say anything or ask you to elaborate, the sound of your pent up pain surfacing into sobs attacked his auditory senses like a knife. He was frantic with concern and worry, trying to figure out how to make everything better.

"Oh, darling, come here," You let him pull you into his arms, more than willingly. You needed the warmth of his embrace and the constant feeling of his breathing against your cheek. He let you cry into his chest, one hand holding your waist tightly as if you'd disappear the moment he let go, the other tenderly stroking through your hair.

You cried and cried, letting out all the pent up tension, all the hurt you've been trying to hide from him. You wanted to talk to him, tell him how you've felt lately, but you weren't sure where to start.

"I just— I'm sorry, Dray. I thought I could deal with it on my own, but luck hasn't really been on my side lately."

He lets you finish before saying, "You don't have to, love. Let me help."

You don't respond for a few seconds, blinking once. Twice. Shedding the last few drops of tears swelling on your lashes.

When you begin to let it all out, he listens attentively, holding you in his arms, where your hands come to find refuge against his chest.

Life wasn't giving you the best set of cards to tackle it with, pitting you into horrible situations left and right. Whether it was the badly marked assgnments you've spent hours working on, or the turbulent relationship with your family back home.

For a moment, it felt frightening. To let all your fears and concerns be known, saying them out loud for the first time and making the words feel much more real. Let alone when it was to the person you loved wholeheartedly and couldn't stand to burden.

Yet simultaneously, it made the issues feel less heavy on your shoulders. You weren't sure how it was possible, but it may have been the effect of the peaceful night air, or perhaps Draco's effect on you. Whichever one it was, you couldn't tell.

You finally finished up with a quiet sniffle, snuggling deeper into his chest. "My parents haven't stopped lecturing me in their letters, this time. It just hurts."

Draco cups your cheek, tilting your head up slightly so that your eyes could meet his. "Darling, I wish you would've told me sooner."

"I know." You look down shyly.

He doesn't say anything, mostly because he's the type of person that believes love translates through actions better than it does through words. So he does exactly that, showering you in sweet little pecks that begin to form constellations on your skin.

His scent is soothing, more than anything. Familiar and comforting, just like how you'd describe the fragrance of one's home— or yours, at least.

But Draco felt more than just home. As though when you look into his eyes, you imagine catching glimpses of the land of milk and honey. His arms bring you to a place where clouds are made of cotton and the fields glimmer brighter than an emerald green. When you kiss him, everything ceases to matter.

"Would you like to stay the night?" He offers, brushing away the remaining wetness on your cheeks with his thumbs. "I'm taking you out on a date at Hogsmeade tomorrow. If you'd give me the pleasure, that is."

For the first time, your lips break into a smile at his words. "Yes, I'd very much like that."

The two of you stay there for just the slightest bit longer, wrapped in an invisible cocoon that promises nothing but an abundance of love and comfort.

• • •

draco taglist: @arossebyanyothername @kawaii-angelanne

[theres-no-protocol-for-this]

The Dreamer

Two original characters, one of whom is a sentient ship and the other a CatUnit.

I found the dreamer by accident.

Inside a transport box in my cargo hold, an inert construct dreamed, and somehow its dreams leaked into the feed. I caught them like wisps of cotton candy and traced them back to their source.

I shielded myself from the dreamer, fearing that my presence in the feed anywhere in the vicinity of the being would disturb its fragile dreaming. The human-bot hybrid inside the box appeared unaware of my existence, connected to the feed only loosely through its autonomous interfaces. It wasn't awake so far as I could tell.

Back then, I knew almost nothing about constructs. The polity where I had been created strictly forbade their use and manufacture, so I had to query the public databases to learn more about them. The information, once I had processed and understood it, made me sick with revulsion and horror.

Constructs were sentient, as alive as any human, and enslaved. Governor modules controlled their words and actions. Inside those transport boxes, they were helpless — completely vulnerable and dependent on humans for continued survival. The practice was disturbing enough that most polities outside the Corporation Rim chose not to create constructs at all. A few had policies that designated them as high-level bots, but most didn’t want to tackle the philosophical ramifications of sentient and sapient machines.

New Tidelands was slowly grappling with these questions because of ships like myself, who were considered sentient in our own right and were, for all practical purposes, artificial minds. I appreciated the sentiment, but I’m a ship and hard to stop on the best of days. I have a debris deflection system that can put most any rail gun to shame.

In comparison, the dreamer in my hold was fragile and easily harmed.

***

I tried an experiment of sorts.

I have all kinds of video and audio of star systems, gathered over the course of dozens of long-range research projects done aboard my hull. I cropped together a brief glimpse of what I had seen and sent it to the dreamer.

Alongside those videos, I added emotional context — wonder, joy, curiosity. The construct’s feed readily accepted my messages, and moments later its dreams became those images and reflected back at me the associated feelings. The security unit’s vital signs improved as if it benefited from the calmer dreams.

I made a decision right then, about how I wanted to handle this situation. For one, now that I knew what a construct was, I felt obligated to help the one in my cargo bay — at minimum.

Using several drones, I moved the transport box from the hold into one of the crew cabins where I could hook it up to my MedSystem. It notified me that the SecUnit’s lungs were exhausted because it was receiving minimal life support — enough to survive, but not comfortably.

I adjusted the settings to human-friendly parameters inside the cabin and used a drone to open the transport box.

Without a command to wake it, the construct remained asleep but now it was breathing more palatable air in a more comfortable environment. It wore no armor that I could see, or much in the way of clothing at all. So I used a drone to slip a pillow under its head and cover it with one of the thick, human-grade blankets that my crew liked.

I also sent a message to Andrew and Martin, the captain of the ship and his second-in-command, letting them know about the dreamer. I wouldn’t see either of them for months, not until I finished this cargo run and returned to New Tidelands, but I wanted to keep them appraised. I didn’t hide things from my family.

I did forge records to indicate that the construct and its transport box were destroyed in a minor fire-related accident in the cargo bay. I knew that would incur insurance-related fees, but the ship’s incidentals account had more than enough currency to cover those costs. That’s why we had the fund in the first place because accidents happened sometimes.

With that out of the way, I looked up the particular details of the SecUnit’s history and got another shock. It had survived to near-human adulthood — a long time by SecUnit standards — and had been a ComfortUnit before that. It had seen a lot of combat in its life and a lot of pain.

I suspected that when this SecUnit woke up, it would need all the trauma treatment we could find.

Before I could wake it up, though, I needed to create a foundation that it could reasonably use. Since I’m sentient, the ship has no need of a HubSystem or a SecSystem — I do all of those roles and much more. But the construct’s governor would not understand me. Both the governor and the construct needed something familiar to connect with.

So while I sent more dreams to my newest guest, I also worked on creating a security system that it would recognize once it woke up. I didn’t want to replicate the designs available via the public databases because they were too restrictive, but they gave me ideas for how to create something comfortable that a SecUnit would still understand.

Meanwhile, the construct began to relax. The added oxygen was helping, as were the changes I made to its resupply fluid. Pleasant emotions bled into the feed just before it entered a non-dreaming sleep phase. I continued monitoring it while working on other projects.

Andrew’s reply came first. Are you all right, Traveler?

Uninjured and still projected to reach my next destination at the scheduled time, I answered readily. Then, I sent him images of the construct as well as its history and current physical state.

I know that you’re smart, Trav, and I trust your judgment about the SecUnit, but please exercise extreme caution. The captain sounded concerned. We’ll try to explore the legal ramifications of stealing corporate property while we await your return.

It’s a person, I said.

I know, Trav. I know. But in the Rim, it’s property and we need to be careful to make sure that we make everything as legally air-tight as possible.

Understood. I gave myself a metaphorical moment to absorb Andrew’s words. I’ll be careful.

Good.

After he signed off, I finished creating the SecSystem and activated it. Once it was integrated with my circuitry to my satisfaction, I figured I was ready to wake the construct and see what there was to see. I stopped thinking of it as a dreamer at some point and began considering it “crew”.

***

The construct woke up with a startled “mew” of a sound and its eyes flickered open. Up close, through the camera lenses of a drone, they were bright, blue eyes filled with confusion and concern. It probably hadn’t expected to awaken anywhere but its intended destination.

“Don’t get up just yet,” I told it even as I felt it connecting to my homebrew SecSystem. “My name is Trav. Short for Traveler, and I’m your client for the moment. Can you run some diagnostics for me? Make sure you’re not experiencing any glitches?”

The construct nodded and sent an acknowledgment to me over the feed. I could feel its hesitation in the feed despite its personal walls, so I added some of my walls around the construct’s mind and then backed off. It needed time to adjust, and I needed a moment to compose myself.

It’s one thing to meet a dreamer and a whole another thing to meet the newest crew member.

I'm not the first of my kind to make friends with a SecUnit. That dubious honor goes to the Perihelion. Nor am I the first to invite a construct on-board, another honor that belongs to braver ships. I've always been content to explore the star-lit darkness between worlds and deliver cargo.

Until I met the SecUnit.

The construct connected readily enough to my makeshift SecSystem and finished its diagnostics. Its cat-like ears twitched with every new sound — most of them my doing as I worked to adjust the life support systems to best match the construct's needs — and its tail swished hesitantly. I understood the uncertainty.

"I am not sure what information is most pertinent," I told it. "But the facts are as follows: you are aboard a starship. I will not be delivering you to your destination. I have temporarily frozen your governor module so that it cannot punish you for what I'm going to say. There are no humans on board, and I do not want a distance limiter to fry your insides."

What do you require?

"I don't require anything. I'm doing this because I want to."

You're a ship bot pilot.

"Yes, to some extent. I'm the entire ship."

[timelordthirteen]

Desperate Souls 4/?

Mr. Gold/BelleFrench, Explicit

Summary: A broke and heartbroken Belle French comes to an agreement with Mr. Gold to do a little modeling, just for him, in exchange for the money she desperately needs, but it isn’t long before they both realize they’ve made a deal they didn’t understand. Based on this prompt.

Chapter Summary: The second meeting goes unexpectedly, once again, as Gold reveals more than he intends.

Notes: Thank you so much for all the comments on this fic. I honestly thought it wouldn't be that well received as this Gold is sort of hard to like in places. I'm really enjoying writing this darker version of him, even if it's hard at times to get into his headspace. Enjoy the first of many Skin Deep references, and a slight tick up towards the ultimate rating of this fic. ;) This is the nightie Belle is wearing. Also omg this is unbeta'd and a hot mess, sorry.

[AO3]

If Belle thought that seeing Mr. Gold in the week leading up to her first evening at his house was awkward, then the week after it was excruciating.

All she could think every time she so much as saw him walking by on the street was he’s seen me in my underwear! It made for several days of fierce blushes and unfinished lunches. Her mind kept replaying the moment when she’d turned around to face him again, and he’d let the softest, quietest lovely slip out. She still hadn’t figured out if he’d even meant to say it out loud. It was hard to believe that seeing her in a glorified nightgown had rendered Gold that speechless, especially given how well known he was for having a sharp tongue. She’d witnessed him giving Keith Nottingham a dressing down last summer, right outside the mechanics shop where Keith worked. Even though Keith was well over six feet tall and clearly worked out, Gold made him seem tiny, almost insignificant.

She grinned at the memory.

Keith was a jerk in every sense of the word, and Gold verbally tearing him a new asshole was the least that he deserved. But that was the kind of presence Gold had in the town; the mayor, the sheriff, the district attorney, they all acquiesced to him. Rumors said he had dirt on everyone, that nothing happened within thirty miles of the town line that he didn’t know about. She wondered sometimes whether that was part of why he’d made this deal with her, so that he would know something about her as well, so that he could have that control.

The thought was not comforting, but it was confusing. In theory, she had as much on Gold as he did on her in this situation. In fact, her position would seem far more sympathetic, if embarrassing, and if anyone did find out - god fucking forbid - she highly doubted they would take Gold’s side. It wasn’t the same as whatever he knew about Albert Spencer or Regina Mills, that made them go white as a ghost whenever Gold hinted at it under his breath.

So what the hell was his motivation?

Belle sighed, and regarded herself in the mirror. She’d left the library right on time, and decided that tonight she wouldn’t shower before going to Gold’s. It was a waste of time if every Thursday evening she was going to come home feeling the need to do it again. Instead she sat down to touch up her makeup and hair out of some odd desire to look as nice as possible. It was another one of the things that confused her. She should have said the hell with it, and not cared if her hair needed a good brushing, or if her lipstick had worn off. Yet she did. She cared how she looked, and for as much as Gold was paying her, she figured he might care too.

Last night she’d even put polish on her toenails, a light, shimmery pink, and gave herself a mini pedicure. If she was going to be barefoot again, then that was part of the package too. She’d look as pretty as she could, head to toe - literally, and that way if Gold let anything else slip out, then perhaps he might have reason to mean it.

Belle arrived at Mr. Gold’s house perfectly on time.

Her knock sounded at exactly one minute till seven, she’d checked her phone as she came up the front sidewalk to make sure, and the door opened right as the grandfather clock in the living room chimed the top of the hour.

“Miss French.” Gold’s mouth curved as he gave her a brief, appraising look before stepping back to allow her inside. “Right on time tonight.”

The first thing that she noticed was the bold, pink dress shirt beneath his pinstripe suit. She had noticed a while ago that he preferred a splash of color in his wardrobe, which was usually done through a striking tie or pocket square, but everyone once in a while there was something unexpected; last week it had been his checkered shirt, this week it was a brilliant pink. There was an eccentricity to his style that she appreciated. He appeared very reserved in his manner and dress, yet these little touches reflected something else entirely, something that kept people guessing.

Once again she caught a hint of something from the kitchen, tomatoes and garlic and something spicy. Spaghetti sauce, she assumed, and she made a happy noise, inhaling the mouthwatering scent as Gold once again took her coat and hung it up.

“Well, now I’m even hungrier,” she said. “Does it always smell delicious in here?”

He frowned. “You haven’t eaten?”

Bell shrugged. “Didn’t want to eat and then try on clothes, you know?”

He let out a gumbling hum and motioned for her to go ahead of him. “I assume you know where things are?”

She nodded and stopped by the door to the powder room. “Yup.”

“I need to finish cleaning up,” he said, moving past her and into the short hallway to the kitchen. “Will be just a moment.”

As soon as he turned his back, she opened the bathroom door and stepped inside. Her stomach was a mess, unable to decide between hunger pangs and the same vaguely nauseous feeling as last week. She set her purse in the same place on the set of shelves set beside the sink, and slipped off her shoes. She was more than halfway undressed, trousers off and blouse completely unbuttoned, before she thought to look at what Gold had put out for her, and stopped.

The nightie hung on the same padded hanger on the back of the door, looking delicate and pretty and oddly foreboding. It was a light, rosy pink and made of a stretchy cotton blend that was more practical than it was sexy, as was the little robe that went with it, but what her eyes were fixed on was the plunging neckline covered in lace. She swallowed and turned away, letting her blouse fall over her shoulders to catch at her wrists. The chemise from last week was the most unrevealing and basic thing she had, she’d known that, but knowing what else there was to be worn and seeing it hanging in front of her were two different things.

Reaching back, she unhooked her bra and then drew it down before hanging it over one of the posts framing the shelves along with her blouse. Turning back to the door, she took the nightie off the hanger and blanched when she saw the panties beneath it, dangling from one of those metal clips made to hold skirts or pants in place. Her eyes closed and she took a slow breath.

A beat later, she slipped the nightie over her head.

The skirt of it fell just to the tops of her thighs, barely covering her in the front and back, much shorter than what she’d worn last week which was as long as some of her dresses. This was undeniably sexual, meant to tease, and suddenly she was glad there was matching underwear to put on beneath it. She shoved her navy blue pair down and then took them off to lay folded on her trousers. The sensation was strange, so she quickly pulled on the matching panties, and then faced herself in the mirror.

The nightie clipped in the back like a bra, just under where the straps criss-crossed, and it took her a moment to adjust everything to where it needed to be. The cups were soft and lined, giving her breasts a little more coverage than the black silk did, for which she was grateful, although the deep dip in the front showed off just how much cleavage she didn’t have. The panties were the same soft cotton blend as the rest of it, with matching lace at the waist that stretched without digging into anything.

On the whole, now that she had it all on, it didn’t feel so bad. She had a sundress with the same sort of straps and clasp in the back, and aside from the length of the skirt it wasn’t that different. All in all it was actually comfortable enough to sleep in during the summer, she thought, which was sort of why she’d bought it in the first place. It made her wonder if Gold was going in some kind of order, working his way up to what he thought was the most risque and scandalous.

The robe was still on the hanger and she eyed it for a few seconds, trying to decide if she should put it on or not. It was part of what she’d purchased, and Gold had put it out with the nightie, but donning another layer meant she’d probably have to take it off. It was going to be a bit difficult to model the nightie if it was covered up with something else, but given how chilled she’d been last time, she thought she could get away with wearing it at least for a few minutes.

Sighing, she tied the sash of the robe at her waist and then eased open the door to peek into the hallway. Gold was still in the kitchen, if the clang of a pot being set in the sink was anything to go by, so she stepped out and hurried into the study. The doors were closed again, the fire roaring even bigger than last time, and she started to smile. It seemed he might have noticed that she was cold and made accommodations. It was strangely thoughtful, much as his invite to have dinner was, and she struggled to know what to make of all of it.

There was another noise from the kitchen, so she closed the doors quietly, and gave the room a more thorough going over. She’d been so nervous last time that all she’d noticed was the general layout of the room. Assuming she had a few minutes until Gold joined her, she took a leisurely stroll around the space, her eyes scanning all the shelves and walls filled with pieces from Gold’s various collections.

The china cabinet opposite Gold’s chair was lit up this time with two small lights mounted above the top shelf. Belle came to stand in front of it, attracted by the light glinting unusually off of something inside. Her eyes went wide when she saw each shelf was full. Two vases sat on the bottom with an ornate oil lamp between them, dishes painted with landscape scenes, a silver tray beside an array of delicate crystal figurines, and on the top shelf, just at her eye level was the strangest tea set she’d ever seen.

Thin white porcelain had been adorned with flowers, painted in such great detail and outlined in such a way that they looked three dimensional, as though they had been plucked out of a garden. They looked so delicate that the petals might fall free if they were touched, but each cup and saucer as well as the pot and the tray it sat on looked as if they had been broken into a hundred pieces and glued back together with liquid gold.

“Kintsugi.”

Gold’s voice startled Belle, and she backed away from the cabinet as if she’d been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to.

“What?”

His lips curved as he took a leisurely step towards her. “Kintsugi,” he repeated. “That’s what they call it.”

She looked from him to the tea set and back again, until he was standing next to her. “Kint - kintsu-gi?”

He nodded. “It means golden repair in Japanese, the art of repairing broken pottery with lacquer and gold dust.”

Her eyes widened. “Gold dust? Like actual gold?” He gave another nod, and she shook her head, shifting her gaze back to the cabinet, following one of the lines of gold as it trailed from the rim of a cup down through a red rose and over to meet another line that encircled the handle. “Sounds expensive.”

“But beautiful,” added Gold.

Their eyes met in the mirrored back of the cabinet, and Belle held her breath until he looked away and went on to explain how he came to find the set. It had been packed in newspaper in a cardboard box, set inside a bigger box marked FREE at an estate sale in Vermont. Most of the pieces were already broken or chipped in some way, but there were a few books he was interested in at the very bottom so he bought the entire lot. Months later, he came across the box again in one of the upstairs bedrooms, and had the idea to try his hand at repairing it in this way.

“So, you made this?” she asked, unable to suppress the surprise and wonder in her voice.

“Aye,” he said. His voice was low and very close to her ear, and she gripped the knot of the robe tightly. “I fixed all the bits that were already broken, filled in missing pieces with things I had laying around, and smoothed all the jagged edges with extra lacquer.”

Belle shook her head slowly. She couldn’t imagine the patience and care it must have taken to create something so unique and beautiful, particularly when it was incomplete. It was - pleasing, wonderful even, and once again she was struck by the strange dichotomy that was Storybrooke’s Mr. Gold.

“Is it - I mean can you actually, um, use it? Once it’s like this?”

He nodded, smiling crookedly. “The lacquer is made from the sap of a very specific tree, and the gold is dusted over it while it’s still wet and sealed inside, and once it’s all done and hardened, it’s perfectly safe to drink from. I’ve personally used that cup there.”

He pointed to the very cup Belle had been admiring, the one with the fine line splitting the red rose in two, and she smiled. “You made so much beauty out of something so broken.”

“Even chipped cups have some use, don’t they?”

His question surprised her, and she looked over to find him watching her, his expression as unreadable as ever. “I think,” she said, “that in this case the best teacup is chipped.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed, and abruptly, he turned and crossed the room to the same chair he’d taken before. Belle blew out a slow breath, her mind spinning and struggling to wrap itself around the sudden shift from their conversation to the purpose of her being here. It was as if her reply had struck a nerve, but she wasn’t sure how.

She heard the creak of the leather as he sat, and after a long moment, she turned away from the china cabinet and its precious contents, and walked to the end of the ottoman. She licked her lips as her hands went to the knot of her robe, and lifted her eyes to his. The end of the sash pulled free easily, the pressure on her waist releasing as the two sides of the robe slid open. She swore she heard his breath hitch, the slight little hiccup and inhale of air, but he otherwise remained completely still as she shrugged her shoulders, sending the robe shimmying down her arms.

It landed on the ottoman behind her with a muted wisp, and she took another step forward. The edge of the nightie brushed her thighs, reminding her of how short it was, and she felt a heat that wasn’t from the fire creep up her neck. She bit her lip as her hands came up to her stomach and then dropped to her sides, unsure of what to do with them.

Gold meanwhile was just staring dazedly at her. His head lolled slightly to one side and then straightened, as one might when observing the way the light illuminated a work of fine art. The thought was absurd, and she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling against the lace.

“Mr. Gold?” she asked softly. “Would you - would you like a drink?”

The question brought him out of the odd trance he’d been in, and he shifted in his seat before meeting her eyes. “Yes, a scotch please, Miss French.”

She turned and made her way around the end of the ottoman, crossing between it and the fireplace, feeling his eyes on her all the way to the bar. She was so grateful to be out of the heat for a minute that even the cold floor felt nice on her feet. For some reason the room was much warmer tonight than it had been last night, and she thought maybe she should say something about finding a happy medium.

Drink in hand, she walked back to stand closer to his chair, and held it out for him. He lifted his hand from where it was resting to take the glass by the bottom, keeping a sliver of a distance between where her fingers were around the rim and his. In doing so, he caught the hem of the nightie, and when he pulled the glass away and raised it to his lips, the hem went with it. It lifted slightly, just enough to feel a light flutter of air against her legs when it settled back into place. She stepped back immediately, conscious of the fact that it may have been enough for him to glimpse the matching panties underneath.

A shiver washed over her despite the flushing of her face, and she crossed her arms over her middle, her upper arms pushing her breasts together. Gold’s eyes dipped down, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip, just before he touched the glass to his mouth. She caught herself pressing her thighs together unconsciously as he sipped and swallowed, and took another step back until a blast of warmth from the fire made her stop.

“Thank you,” Gold said simply.

His expression was blank, as if nothing had occurred between them at all, and she knew that she was once again dismissed. Once again the abrupt change in his demeanor unsettled her, but she couldn’t give voice to any of the questions in her head. Instead, she gave him a short nod, and moved to leave, pausing to snatch up the robe before she all but ran from the study.

The bathroom was like an odd little oasis when Belle returned to it. She sighed at the cool air wrapping around her, calming her heated skin, and leaned back against the closed door, breathing slowly. The kintsugi, the conversation, the way he looked at her, she could make no sense of it. Whatever this was about for him, she couldn’t keep letting it affect her. She had to think of this weird arrangement as a job, nothing more. It was something she was doing for money - a lot of money, mind - but a paycheck all the same.

She blew out a breath and changed back into her clothes, deciding to leave the lingerie on the hanger again. If he wanted her to keep the items, then he could say so. She was tired of guessing his reasons and desires for any of this.

Gold was waiting for her when she opened the powder room door. He was standing with his cane, leaning a bit to the side as if he had to put most of his weight on it to keep himself upright, and holding a glass storage container with a plastic lid. She frowned at it as she lifted her purse strap onto her shoulder, and then looked up at him.

“For you,” he said, holding the container out for her to take.

Her eyes darted down to the offering as she reached for it hesitantly. “Okay...?”

“It’s lasagna. That’s - that’s what I made for dinner. I thought since you hadn’t eaten...” He shrugged.

“Oh.” Belle took the container from his hand and stared down at the lid. She could see a large square of something inside, with hints of red and creamy white. The scent of food still lingered in the air, and her stomach rumbled loudly.

Gold let out a soft, short laugh, and shook his head. “It’s still warm, sort of, but I recommend putting the container in the oven and letting it come up to 350. That should heat it through.” He folded his hands over the handle of his cane, and then added, “With the lid off, of course.”

“Of course,” she repeated. Confused as to why he was giving her food, but pleased she wouldn’t have to make anything when she got home, she lifted her eyes to him. “Um, thanks.”

“No matter.”

He followed her to the door, holding her coat for her once more, and then bid her good night.

The walk home was comfortably cool, but smelling of fresh lasagna the entire way.

By the time Belle reached the door of her apartment, she was starving and had determined that this time the vague feeling of nauseous indigestion was from lack of food rather than anything that had transpired with Gold. He had been a gentleman about nearly everything, except for whatever those accidental brushes had been, and he cooked like he should have his own restaurant. The small touches were clearly accidental, and the odd sensation that came over this evening was easily ignored. If he did it again, she might consider saying something or changing her tactic of fetching his drink, but for now it was certainly more tolerable than half of the dates she’d had.

Garrett would have had his hand up her skirt in minutes, which was a thought that made her entire body cringe now that their relationship has ended so spectacularly.

As strange as it might seem, she was more intrigued by Gold than disturbed or repulsed. The story of the tea set was charming, and the fact that the person who could remake some useless, broken bits into something so pretty was the same as the person who offered her a deal to parade around his study in lingerie, left her head spinning. She wanted to know how that was possible, and thought that perhaps over the next few weeks she might find out.

He seemed perfectly willing to talk to her, revealing small clues here and there, but once he realized he had, he tried to close up again. She supposed some of that was part of how he maintained his enigmatic personality within the town, yet there was also the possibility that no one had ever bothered to take an interest in him before. Maybe he had no idea how to deal with that, maybe he had some of the same anxieties about social situations as she did, though in her case it had somehow turned into a peculiar ability to make friends easily. In his case it kept people at arm's length, much the same as his prim, fitted suits and colorful shirts portrayed a baffling combination.

She put the container of lasagna, sans lid, in the oven as instructed, and left it to warm up while she took a shower. This evening she didn’t feel dirty or uncomfortable, it was just the end of a long day and she was more than ready for a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. The lasagna was, as expected, fantastic. The cheese wasn’t too thick or stringy, and the mozzarella had been mixed with something else that gave it a sharper, more aged flavor. In place of plain ground beef he’d used some kind of sausage that was just spicy enough to leave a lingering heat behind, but not too much that it burned, and the notes of fennel blended well the spice. He had been heavy on the fresh garlic and basil as well, which were probably her favorite parts. She was prone to using a bit too much of them herself, and she smiled as she shoved the last forkful in her mouth.

She contemplated asking him to add dinner to the deal, but that would make the whole arrangement feel like something it wasn’t. They weren’t dating, they weren’t friends; it was just a weird business transaction, needs and wants.

She needed money, and he was providing. Though what Gold wanted from any of it would likely remain a mystery.

Gold leaned back in his chair as he savored the last bit of his second glass of scotch.

Belle had been less nervous this time, perhaps because he’d spoken to her about the tea set. He hadn’t intended to do so, but the way she was looking at it was - indescribable, like the way she might look at a painting or sculpture by one of the old masters, with a kind of curious awe. What she’d said about the chipped cup was incidental, he knew it was not some kind of metaphor or anything, even if restoring the set had been far more personal for him than he’d let on. She seemed quite pleased with his story, and he wondered idly what she might say if he put it up for sale in his shop. Would she want to buy it? Would she use the money he’d paid her to have it?

If he closed his eyes, he knew he would be able to recall the moment perfectly, the soft flutter of the rosy fabric as it fell from her arms, exposing more beneath it. The brief brush of those fingers against her, the hint of the lacy panties hiding under the skirt, the same precious pink as the rest of it, made him shiver. He didn’t think she’d noticed, or if she had maybe she had assumed it was an accident. It was, partially, but instead of pulling away when he’d realized what he’d done, he’d continued, waiting to see if she would move first. She hadn’t; he didn’t know what that meant.

The nightie had a teasing, innocent look to it, but it bared more than it covered. He’d gotten an eyeful of her skin, so creamy and soft looking, supple if it were pressed, and flushed the prettiest pink in the warmth of the room. He wondered how else he might make her blush like that, and shifted in his seat, uncrossing his legs as his own skin prickled with heat. He raised his hand, touching the fingertips that had touched her so briefly to his lips as his other hand moved to his waist, adjusting the pressure of his trousers and belt.

She had looked so beautiful tonight. Truthfully, she always did, but there was something about having her here, in his sanctuary, that made so much keener. A tingling throb twitched between his legs, and he gave in and pressed his palm to the front of his trousers, running the heel of it up and down his rapidly hardening cock. He couldn’t touch her again like that, couldn’t cross that line, no matter how much the image of her bare thighs tormented him.

Sighing, he forced his hand back to the arm of the chair and breathed slowly until his body calmed. As much as he wanted to take himself in hand and call to mind one of any number of fantasies, that was another line he couldn’t let himself cross. He was the monster they all said he was, in every way but that.

After a few minutes, Gold pushed to his feet, ignoring the lingering flush that crept up his neck and the ache low in his belly as he headed upstairs for another chilling shower.

( This is kintsugi. It's one of my favorite things and someday I too will have a tea set like in this fic. )

[crispycrimebrulee]

🎄25 Days of HXH: Day 8: Shalnark x Mistletoe🎄

A/N: I listened to Mistletoe one too many times. 

Taglist: @to-move-on-means-to-grow , @lifescreams27, @twistedsmth, @dukinaxael, @weeb-chick-181920 @my-child-gaara @absolute-flaming-trash @errorpeachy @yep-seeyalaterbranflakes​ @demon-hugger​ 

It’s times like this when the world really does seem to fall in love all at once, tenderness drifting through the air along with the snowflakes after a midnight snow. People seem to want to be closer than ever, not just for the sake of warmth during the cold months but for the sake of having someone be close to you, sharing the quiet feelings of the start of something new and beautiful, the start of potential lovers and exploration of hearts. You’d met Shalnark in the summer, and originally, it’d felt more like a fling than anything else. Part of him seemed very aloof, bouncing around, willing to give you the time of day but he seemed that way with everyone. He was great company, following you around on your adventures and usually being available to hang around spontaneously, unless he mentioned that he had work to do. He was sickeningly sweet with you, with a kindness that seemed unmatched, although there would be the occasion he would say something dark, and you could only wonder what he was hiding at the time. The summer months had gone on, and everything, all the feelings you had for him only got stronger, or worse depending on how one looked at it. Everything looked like it wouldn’t work out, that he’d vanish off to work one night and wouldn’t come back, not because he wasn’t able to, but because he’d grown tired of the fling, tired of you and tired of everything you’d done together. It never happened, though. He’d come around at some point, telling you he wanted to stick around and be with you, love you, care for you. You accepted, of course, and now you were 7 months in with him, and the relationship was better than you’d expected it to be. He was sweet, upbeat and a dotting boyfriend, always finding some way to make you smile. Mistletoe by Justin Bieber

One day, Shalnark had told you that he was free from work for a while, so he had plenty of time to spend with you, and you couldn’t be happier. Before you had the chance, he was rattling off activities to you, trying to figure out ways to spend the free time together. You’d mentioned to him that there was a Christmas town, a few hours away, and you’d never really been to one before. Shalnark was absolutely ecstatic at this idea, and immediately started planning it out with you, taking note of all the little shops that would be there. You let him talk, losing yourself in his voice and how bubbly he could get about things, his bright eyes absolutely glowing just thinking of possibilities. You would find yourself staring at him and all his soft features, daydreaming about general relationship things, to the point where you never realize when he’s stopped talking and he’s quietly staring back at you, preparing to tease you about staring at him like that til the sun went down. You couldn’t help it, really. Everything about him was loveable, from how he squeezed your hand to how he knew every possible way to make you laugh. Eventually it came time to venture off to said Christmas town, much to his excitement, and he wouldn’t stop pointing things out on the way there, talking about the things you could whilst you were there and you could only watch him become silent when you two arrived there, his expectations most likely being exceeded upon walking through the gates of the town. 

Walking down the main road of the Christmas town, you could feel your heart swell with wonder as you let your eyes jump from building to building, taking in the sight of the little town. Frosted window panes with garland and lights, lampposts with wreaths and bows, store fronts with window decorations and so much more. There was a light hum of conversation, mingling with the soft jingling of bells from far off, instinctively making you look to the sky, a part of you hoping to catch a glimpse of something your heart had never grown out of. Shalnark was mesmerised as well, the lights around reflecting in his eyes, although they faltered in comparison to his smile, beaming as his gaze seemed to be everywhere. He turned his look to you and you all but melted in those eyes of his, doe-eyed and full of excitement. You could only smile sheepishly at him and he laughed, a laugh that sounded like the bells far off in the town. Squeezing your hand, he pulled you along to a store, an ornament store. You glanced at him, wondering what he could possibly want in there. He pulled you along to the back of the store, where he picked up two empty and clear baubles and began looking around. Taking one from him, you examined it, wracking your brain about the appeal, if there was any.

“Uh...Shal..” you muttered, turning the bauble over in your hand.

“Yeah? What’s up?” he answered, turning to you.

“What’re you doing with these...they’re clear. There’s some pretty ones over there.” you pointed to an entire row of shelves with colorful ornaments. 

“Oh we’re decorating these! That’s why they’re clear, duh.” He turned back, looking around the shop again. Seeing an employee, he walked over to them, leaving you where you stood. In a few moments he came back and got you, letting you hold the other empty ornament. He led you to a small table with glue, glitter, felt, markers and a glue gun all scattered about the table, and he motioned for you to sit as he sat beside you. For about 40 minutes, you sat with Shalnark, decorating a Christmas ornament, casually sprinkling glitter on his hands while he would put felt in your hair, making a mess the whole way through. Shalnark was creating a little snowglobe-like scene inside his bauble, making two little snowmen out of cotton balls, making glittery snow and adding bits of blue to the upper quarter of the ornament. You wouldn’t have pictured him to be creative, much less adorably creative, let alone this gleeful making it all the while. Occasionally he would gasp and smile to himself when he figured out something else to add, happily grabbing things and sticking it around, clearly invested in his creative adventure. You found yourself staring at him again, studying those big green eyes full of an indescribable soft joy. You turned yours into a snowglobe as well, this one with tiny trees on the inside, with slightly glittery walls. You hummed to yourself, falling in tune with the song softly playing from the shop speakers. You couldn’t help but dance in your seat as you glued the cap on your ornament. Turning to Shalnark you jumped a bit, coming to find that he was watching you, his eyes practically burning into you with strange intensity. 

“Y..You okay?” you stuttered, scanning his concerningly happy yet blank stare.

“Yup! You’re just cute is all.” He smiled in return seeing you blush at his sudden confession. 

“Look who’s talking!” you teased, giving him a once over.

His eyes got slightly bigger and he blushed too, clearly not expecting you to hit him with a compliment in return. He laughed and handed you his ornament whilst taking yours.

“Someone’s a copycat, huh.” giving you an accusatory yet playful look as you rolled your eyes.

“It was a nice idea, okay? At least I didn’t copy all the way.” You pointed out, motioning to your little trees and his snowmen. He nodded in acknowledgement as he handed your ornament back to you. You made a move to hand back his but he shook his head.

“Made it for you. Keep it!” he said, attempting to wipe glitter from his hands to no avail.

You blinked, looking down at the ornaments. Pouting, you handed yours to him, feeling guilty at him potentially having nothing to remember this by.

Gawking at you he took the offer, pressing his face to the side of the ornament, deeply studying the inside. He smiled and got up, walking towards the register. Part of you hoped he would pay for the experience, but you doubted that that was what he was doing. Not minutes later did he motion for you to follow him, to which you scurried after, squinting at him.

“Did we steal these?” you demanded, poking at his cheek.

“I can’t confirm or deny that accusation, y/n!” avoiding the answer you were hoping for and yet also dreading. 

“Shal…” you sighed, stopping in your tracks.

He let out a soft ‘mhm’ and stopped as well, somewhat ignoring your apparent attitude about his stealing. You really couldn’t curb him from stealing things, since it was literally a profession of sorts to him, but there were times you really wish he just...wouldn’t. 

Sighing again you shook your head and slipped your hand into his and he smiled, continuing the walk to the next store. 

Supposedly you hadn’t dressed as warm as you thought you had, for after sometime of walking around looking at displays and shop windows, you found yourself shivering a little bit and you hugged yourself, burying your nose in the collar of your jacket. Feeling a tug, you looked up to meet Shalnark's gaze, gesturing over to a hot chocolate stand not too far off and you nodded at his silent suggestion. Walking over, you took the liberty to pay this time, much to Shalnark's silent brood, knowing how he felt about you spending your money. Not that he was a cheapskate, per se, but judging, again from his profession, spending money on a regular basis didn’t seem to be on his agenda. Taking your cups of hot cocoa, you sipped it carefully as to not burn yourself as you stepped a bit closer to Shalnark, who happily accepted your closeness. Looking at him, you stifled back a giggle (and a choke, since you were mid sip) at the frothy cocoa mustache he had, and he titled his head at your expression. Taking one of the napkins from under your cup, you handed it to him and he seemed to understand, except for the fact that he smiled, pocketed them and kept drinking. Huffing, you followed suit, enjoying the silent sipping, happy with being in his presence. 

After finishing, you continued to make rounds, visiting more stores and talking with Shalnark, indulging in the light banter and romance that he had to offer. You two had made your way to a clearing with a row of trees just a few feet away, decorated with lights and a paved walkway, small candy canes and wrapped cookies handing off the lower branches of the trees. You didn’t even have to ask Shalnark to walk down with you, he was already captured by the whole sight. As you were walking, you finally took note of all the couples that were actually there, both young and old. Intertwined hands, soft laughter and flirtatious remarks seemed to be everywhere, and you felt lucky to be able to relate to the scene of couples and love before you, feeling as though you’d picked a perfect person to be there with. A little bit ahead of you though, was a couple, nose to nose, giggling at each other, and that feeling of luck and happiness uncomfortably melted into awkwardness. Looking around again, you also managed to notice the amount of mistletoe hanging from between  each tree, between the lights, or just casually strewn about the branches. You glanced at Shalnark, seemingly oblivious to your slight discomfort. You didn’t want to push him into anything, it was unlike you, but part of you held a slight doubt within yourself. The most he’d done is place the occasional peck on your cheek, and you would do the same, and you could only do so much to avoid actually kissing him, because you wanted him to want it as much as you did. Sometimes you would find yourself staring at his lips with an almost unnerving desire, and he would catch you, always asking what you were staring at. You would never tell him though for fear of scaring him off. You figured he picked the perfect moment to do so eventually, but nevertheless you always felt he held back simply because he didn’t feel that sort of connection with you, making that self doubt fester inside of you. It was almost becoming obnoxious the amount of couples underneath buds of mistletoe, and you couldn’t keep an eyeroll from happening, huffing into your jacket, trying to avoid letting your eyes fall on one of the various couples. You looked around, only to find Shalnark staring at you as you occasionally found him doing and you blinked, his eyes seeming to read you and pick at your thoughts. You wouldn’t put it past him to read you as such, seeing as you probably looked as disgruntled as you felt. You rolled your eyes and looked back at, looking past your shoulder and then back at him, making sure it was you he was looking at. His eyes stayed on you all the same, only smiling and reaching over to pat your head. You smiled meekly back at him, trying to remove the obvious look from your face as best you could. You could tell your expression was pained, but you did your best to manipulate your aura into something else in a somewhat futile way to convince him otherwise. 

Continuing your walk, you found yourself shivering again, wishing for more hot chocolate as you blew little clouds into the frosty December air.

“You’re cold again?” Shalnark asked, slightly turning towards you, looking you over.

“Yeah...Kinda compromised being warm for having a nice outfit.” you blabbered, feeling embarrassed about your outfit choice. 

“I’m not giving you my jacket, though, so..” he laughed a little, pulling you to the side.

“Well I wasn’t going to ask, Shal!” you pouted, lying through your teeth feeling as though a potential chance for romance had been thwarted. 

Shalnark unzipped your jacket and you began shivering harder, the air practically rattling your bones. 

“There’s no way this sweater is warm, dummy.” He glanced at you, appalled by the fancy but slightly thin sweater you’d chosen to wear. 

“Well I wanted to look nice!” you argued, frowning at him as you zipped your jacket back up, desperate to conserve warmth as best you could.

Shalnark shook his head and took off his scarf and began wrapping it around your neck, much to your surprise.

“Oh thank you-” you yelped, feeling yourself lurch forward as the scarf was pulled.

You caught yourself, chest to chest with Shalnark, and your brain went blank, and then full panic mode. Sure you were cold, and sure a hug would be nice but this isn’t a hug and he is mighty close to your face right now.

His face was dangerously close to your, and you could feel his heart beat against yours as his chest rose and fell slightly. You couldn’t form words or thoughts for that matter, every cohesive deduction for the sudden change in atmosphere abandoning ship. All you could do was look absolutely confused and feel just as so.

And yet, he brought his face closer, making your face burn with nerves and anticipation. His lips hovered just above yours, a faint, comforting heat radiating from them. You glanced at his almost dazed look, seemingly lost in whatever he was thinking. You fidgeted and he snickered, reveling in your nervousness. He brought your lips to yours gently, carefully. Clearly calculated but not stiff or awkward, gently bring one hand to your waist, the other to your cheek, rubbing his thumb against your face, making you melt. He tasted sweet, like the drink from earlier and you pressed into him, wanting him closer, wanting more. He smiled mid kiss and took you up on your silent offer for more, continuing with no intention of letting up. After a minute or so, you both stopped to catch a breath, stunned for a minute by the rush of events. He put his forehead to yours and you smiled, letting your arms come around his neck, playing with the ends of his hair. He snapped his fingers to the left of you, catching your attention. Pointing upwards, you looked up and groaned and Shalnark snickered. He’d brought you under mistletoe and you hadn’t even realized. You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh more. 

“I wasn’t going to let you be cranky for the rest of the night, y/n, although that pout is pretty cute.” He teased, placing a kiss on your nose, causing you to scrunch it a bit, much to his pleasure. 

Part of you was sure he wasn’t aware that you were cranky about all the couples, but then again, he was always quietly perceptive of things.

Smiling, you placed a quick kiss on his lips and started to back away before he pulled you back, deepening it again.

You had no intention of playing hard to get at this rate, you were perfectly happy being here, right here with him, starting off a perfect Christmas season with him. 

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 4, chapter 6

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Content warnings: recounting past trauma

Blaise and Tyrael were still gone. Apparently the destruction of this soulstone was more complicated somehow. Morgan had moved from the work bench to one of the cots in the next room, propped up by pillows in a way that didn't trouble his injury too much, practically swimming in a light cotton tunic that Halbu had provided to replace his own ruined shirt. He was still feeling a little unsteady from the whole ordeal - not the battle, which had gone surprisingly well. What had happened afterward was what troubled him. The nightmares were one thing, to be expected. He barely even remembered having them sometimes. But to be pulled into one while waking was something else entirely, and it was concerning. He was trying to believe it was just a side effect of Diablo's influence. That was the most likely explanation, but he couldn't shake the nagging doubt. What if it wasn't? What if it could happen again at any time? He would have to pursue additional training, just to be sure of himself. Priests had to hold themselves to higher standards than what he'd been achieving recently.

Halbu had begun working on a new armour piece for him. A brigandine this time, more flexible and puncture-resistant than the leather cuirass had been, but likely to be heavier. He'd insisted, despite Morgan's protests, and was whistling as he worked. The whistling and the hammering echoed through the fortress, breathing a sense of life into the otherwise still halls. Morgan supposed Halbu had good enough reason to be cheerful, given their victory over Diablo. Cain was busying himself with a small pile of books he'd borrowed from Jamella's collection while she processed some ingredients with a mortar and pestle at an auxiliary work table. She seemed annoyed to be working in this atypical setup, given that the bulk of her equipment was in the other room, but she was insistent about keeping an eye on Morgan.

She had been glancing over at him frequently, frowning. Something seemed to be bothering her. She finally broke her silence when she caught him looking back. "I didn't expect you to have such a resistance to my potion," she said. He still appreciated her straightforwardness, though he didn't care much for the direction of the conversation. "I've never seen it have so little effect. How exactly did your tolerance get so high?"

Morgan didn't really want to talk about it, but she was an emissary of the Light. He was duty-bound to assist her in every way possible, at least while the Balance was still compromised. And Baal was still unaccounted for.

"I was tortured. By a sect of claw vipers. Acolytes of Duriel."

"Oh? Kindly elaborate."

"They pushed me to the brink of death, then pulled me back with healing potion to do it again." Morgan hoped that level of detail would suffice. It was not at all pleasant to reflect on, especially not after whatever that lapse had been. "Based on the taste, I would guess their formulation was very close to yours."

"You don't build a tolerance like that from a little torture. Have you ever used it recreationally, outside of that experience? Afterwards, perhaps? It's not uncommon. I'm not here to pass judgment, I just want to know. So I can treat other champions accordingly if they have a similar issue."

"No, never like that." He couldn't imagine ever wanting to consume it on purpose. He'd already explained that the tolerance had been caused by - oh, perhaps he hadn't been quite explicit enough. "It was dozens. Of times. Not just the once."

Jamella's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Really? Dozens."

Morgan rubbed his face. He wished this conversation could be over, but he couldn't just end it. In case future champions should have a similar issue. He hoped, for their sake, they did not.

"Yes. You've seen the state of my skin. The scarring is all from that experience."

"Two dozen? More?"

"More. I was not keeping a precise tally," he added, hoping to stem this particular branch of inquiry. He wanted to think about anything else.

Jamella gave him a cool stare. "Why so much? I know Duriel's chosen find torture to be entertaining, but that seems excessive even for them."

Morgan laced his fingers together in his lap. "Blaise and I fought Andariel, before that. I was injured during that battle, and it never fully healed. They were... fascinated by that injury."

"You were marked by Andariel? Well, that would explain it. Her surviving victims experience a permanent amplification of pain that would make you an attractive target for her brother's flock." Jamella tipped her head thoughtfully. "Her venom is physically aggressive as well - that's what was wrong with your arm, isn't it? The damage you mentioned you couldn't repair?"

Morgan nodded, the heat of embarrassment creeping up his neck. He'd been able to avoid discussing the lingering effects of Andariel's venom until now, but of course Jamella would be knowledgeable in these things. It was a small mercy Blaise wasn't there to hear him admit just how weak he really was, how he struggled constantly next to her effortless strength.

"I see. And how much of their potion did they give you at a time?"

"For the first... while, it was, ah. Just. Cupfuls." The words weren't coming easily. "Less than... what you gave me earlier. About a ghyll. I think."

"They worked up to larger amounts, then?"

"No, not... worked up." Morgan ran a hand through his hair. Why was this so difficult? It was just something that had happened, a set of facts he could relay. "I tried to... refuse. The potion. After a time. They... began drowning me in it, then. To prevent that." Tears blurred his vision. He wiped at his eyes, frustrated. It wasn't always easy to manage his emotions, but it was usually easier than this. "I don't know how many, how much-" The lump in his throat prevented him from saying any more.

Jamella opened her mouth to continue her questioning, but Cain had come over to lay a hand on her shoulder. "I think that's enough for now. We aren't going anywhere, are we?" He smiled disarmingly. She grunted, turning back to her work. Cain approached Morgan, seating himself by the bedside. Morgan avoided the other man's gaze. He hated losing his composure like this. It was bad enough being so physically feeble, he didn't need anyone to witness his emotional weakness on top of it. Some of the most basic training for priests of Rathma was for emotional control, and he just couldn't stop failing at it. At least he would have time to revisit that training yet again as he waited for his body to heal.

"You've been through quite a lot, young man." Cain's voice was reassuring, kindly. It didn't help. Morgan wasn't looking for sympathy or pity, he just wanted to be able to close the wounds in his mind. Talking about them, even just thinking about them, only served to pick at the scabs.

"We all have," he replied. The deflection was almost automatic. "The first thing I did when we met was to bury seven of your friends."

"I still think perhaps you've suffered the worst out of us, my friend."

"Personal suffering is inconsequential in service to the Balance," Morgan recited. Of course the suffering of others should be minimized where possible, but priests of Rathma had to hold themselves to a different standard. All this time, and he still couldn't do his Order justice. It was pathetic.

"Ah, is that why you rarely speak of what troubles you? I don't believe I've heard you complain even once since we began traveling together."

Morgan looked over at Cain. The old man's face was somehow both concerned and blandly interested, no indication that he was judging or mocking. Morgan looked away again. "I prefer not to dwell on those things," he said carefully. There was no need to bother anyone else with his... difficulties. What if they found it to be too much trouble to deal with? No, he absolutely could not take that risk.

That was the thing Diablo had discovered when he'd reached into his mind to pluck out his deepest fear. What the demon ought to have found was the tipping of the Balance, the destruction that would be done to humanity by either side seizing control, the thing his Order was charged with preventing. And that would be a terrible thing, to be sure, but it was not what Diablo had scented out as his worst fear. No, the demon lord had pried out something much smaller, more personal. What he had unearthed was the idea - the knowledge - that these friendships Morgan had managed to cultivate somehow, so rare and precious, could easily be destroyed if he were to say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time. The thought was unbearable, the danger ever-present. He knew in his heart that he was a burden, so he had to make that burden as light as possible for them to bear.

"Some burdens," Cain said as though reading his thoughts, "are easier to carry when their weight is shared."

"It is not easy to bear the weight of another. I can carry my own well enough."

"So you can, friend. So you can. Just remember, you don't always have to."

He was wrong, of course, but the sentiment was well-intentioned. "Thank you." Morgan waited a beat to see if Cain would say anything further on the matter. He did not, which meant it was time to change the subject. "What is it you've been studying?"

Cain brightened. "What do you know of the crusaders of Zakarum?"

"Little enough. They call themselves Paladins, do they not?"

"Ah, yes, actually, they are two distinctly different orders sprung from the same root." Cain spoke at length of the differences and similarities between the two sects, and Morgan did his best to pay attention. But soon enough he found his eyelids growing heavy, and Cain very kindly helped him back into a more horizontal position. Exhaustion caught up with him quickly, and he slept.

[sailorsunspot]

I found this reinako drabble i wrote 5 years ago while i was looking back through my old google docs, and i liked it so i finished it up! Not too much, just about 1600 words of fluff.

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

Rei pressed the doorbell to Minako’s house before fishing her phone out of her pocket and glancing over the glowing display. 7:10. She told Minako she would arrive around 7:25, but knowing the vivacious blonde’s precarious relationship with scheduling, she had opted to show up just a little bit earlier. Her disapproving scowl was usually enough to stir up some sense of urgency into the blonde - and if the stars were aligned, they would - somehow - be ready for when Haruka swung over to pick them up.

She wasn’t holding her breath.

After a few minutes had passed, she found herself depressing the doorbell yet again. Her impatience proved fruitful as she heard the faint strains of a voice through the construct that separated them.

“Just a minute!”

Rei’s arms crossed over her chest by their own accord, a scowl settling on her features. But the rustling on the other end of the door was growing louder, and before she could grow impatient enough to test the doorbell once more, the fine white surface swung open to reveal a grinning Minako.

It only took Minako half of a second to drop the grin in favor of unenthusiastic disbelief as blue eyes raked over Rei’s form.

“Uhm, what are you wearing?”

“...What? Clothes.”

Before she could protest further, lithe fingers had wrapped around her wrist, tugging her into the home.

---

The first thing one noticed when they walked into Minako’s room was how reflective it was. There was a mirror on every wall, providing every possible angle a girl could dream of inspecting. And, more specifically, there was a single spot near the middle of the room that allowed one the privilege of looking themselves over without strain.

And it was the exact spot Rei found herself corralled into occupying.

With a scowl and a subtle flush of her cheeks, Rei turned to glower at the blonde. “This is stupid. I look fine.”

Minako was appraising her critically, her hand cupping her chin in an almost academic manner. “Yes, you look like you’re about to give a presentation to the board of directors about the state of finances last quarter. We’re going to a party, Rei - not a corporate merger.” She was so flippant and confident with her dismissal that Rei couldn’t help but peek back to the mirror, half-convinced she had missed something while dressing this afternoon. But the longer she inspected herself, the more convinced she was in her own righteousness.

She wore a rich burgundy turtleneck that clung in a shapely manner to her skin and complimented her naturally pale complexion and raven hair. Her dark skinny jeans were similarly tight, especially when paired with the high heels that did wonders to her already impressively long legs. The silver belt that dangled loosely around her waist offered her an understated flair. She didn’t look prudish or professional - she looked refined. Mature. Elegant. Words that - of course - would mean absolutely nothing to Mina.

“You’re crazy. I look good.”

“Sure Jan.” Minako drawled out, already digging through her rather expansive walk-in closet. Articles of brightly colored clothing flew around as she inspected and vetted each individual item, without a care for the mess that was progressively growing in the previously semi-clean room. “No but really; I get that you’re not into men, but does that mean we all must suffer?”

“Does it look like I care about you suffer- wait, what?” There was abject shock written on Rei’s features as her brain caught up with what Minako had just said, the makings of a blush crowning on the Senshi of Flame’s cheeks.

This was not something Rei was used to - or even comfortable with - thinking about, nevermind discussing. When they were younger, she had been among the leaders of the pack when it came to chasing boys. Her beauty and type-A personality had worked as a shining beacon for the opposite sex, but she found the thrill not in their attention, but in the reflection of her friends who marveled at her master with men. She did not date often - once in a while, and only with those individuals deemed truly impressive and desirable. But every time, the experience was regretfully lacking, until she came to terms with the fact that she simply had no interest in men.

They were an entirely non-sexual, non-appealing entity to her. When they weren’t actively offending her sensibilities, she felt entirely apathetic to their existence, the same way she might feel towards a floor lamp in the corner of the room.

But whereas she had acknowledged and accepted this fact privately, she certainly didn’t make it known to her friends. For this exact reason.

Minako stopped emptying out her closet in favor of poking her head out to look and laugh at Rei. “Hello! Goddess of Love here! You haven’t gone out with anyone in like, three years Reiko-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“- and you don’t even bat an eye when we did that university tour with all those hunky college dudes. That track and field team, with their short short short short-”

“Minako.”

“- short shorts. Hey, it’s okay Rei! Different strokes for different folks, you know? Besides, more for me!” The blonde ducked back into the closet and Rei was left with nothing but the shuffling in the background to occupy her mind. She considered denying what Minako had professed - for she didn’t have to be a psychic to know that no good would come out of Minako knowing this - but what good would that do her in the long run? The blonde dolt rarely let something as trivial as reality get in the way of her fun, so why should she even bother?

The answer came to her as she strode out of the closet, carrying what looked to be a flimsy shirt of a shimmering violet, which she threw triumphantly in Rei’s direction. “Okay, lesbo, try this on!”

Rei didn’t even bother to try and catch it. She had vague suspicions that she had turned as red as her shirt, but she couldn’t tell if it was due to mortification or indignation “WHAT?”

“My sweet summer child, it’s okay! This is a safe place!” She slide up beside Rei, clasping her hands on Rei’s shoulders, an earnest expression on her face that was undercut by shining eyes. “If you’re worried about the coming out process, don’t be - trust me, we all know. I can have Haruka whip you up a handy pamphlet or something, she loves that kind of stuff.”

Rei scowled, wrenching herself from Minako’s grasp and turning so she could focus the full extent of her most formidable glare on her. “What makes you think I’m like her?”

Minako wasn’t at all phased, the smile etched on her features wide and mischievous. She was the very definition of smug, a fact which grated at Rei’s already frayed patience. “I’ve seen the way you look at me, Reiko.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean, who could really blame you. I’m like a ten. I know. Now, c’mon! We don’t have much time!” There was a distinctive whine in Minako’s voice as she ignored the tensed, irritated body language Rei was presenting in favor of moving to tug Rei’s sweater off of her. She had always been an unreasonably brave girl.

Rei reacted the only way she could; with ferocious resistance. “Oh my God, get off of me!” She twisted away, stepping back, only to realize that Mina was particularly determined. As the two struggled over the cotton pull-over the strains of the battle could be heard in the form of growling profanities and high-pitched giggling. They were caught up in their own dance, wildly flailing limbs somehow managing to arc in near-perfect synchronicity.

Until they didn’t.

---

The rich leather upholstery of Haruka’s latest sports car was cold against her skin. The top Minako had picked out for her barely covered her stomach, and left little to the imagination otherwise. Self-consciously, she tugged at the front of it, before deciding on crossing her arms over her chest and scowling out of the window.

“Oh, man. I can’t believe you wore that.”

As the red violently erupted on her cheeks, Rei turned her sharp gaze to Minako, fueled by the righteousness of her fury. Minako grinned back, somehow managing to look cheeky and insufferable even with the wicked black eye she was now sporting. As Rei looked over the swollen purpling that surrounded her left eye, she felt her anger drain from her body in favor of something slightly more amenable.

She let out a half-hearted harrumph, turning her eyes to the front of the vehicle. She did not move when she felt the soft, gentle touch to her thigh.

“You look really nice.”

Rei blushed right to her toes. And this time, even Rei couldn’t keep the smile from creeping onto her face. After a moment, Rei allowed her arms to unravel, doing her best to ignore the steady beating of her heart as she rested her hand atop of the troublesome girl’s tentatively. Minako laced her fingers between Rei’s.

“But I bet you’d look even nicer with all those clothes taken off.”

“Don’t push it.”

[raysreads]

Teen Wolf Character Scents

Okay this might sound weird, but I’ve been reading a lot of Teen Wolf fic lately and it always puts a heavy emphasis on what the character smells like. Because...werewolf senses and everyone has a natural scent. I personally love this so here are my headcanons for what each characters natural scent would be!!!!!

(I give reasons for why I went with those things but some of the reasons themselves are headcanons, and some just came to me and have no reason at all besides that fact that i love it that way)

So background info: I headcanon some scents are from birth, while some are added/change based on experiences, temperament and emotions. You have your own scent and it does its own thing, even when you’re human. Humans cant smell them since they aren’t necessarily real, they are more a smell supernaturals pick up that’s a cryptic reflection of ones personality.

Stiles: Gotta start with the main boi!!!! He smells like spicy chili peppers, honey and everything spicy. He is wild and loud and so so sharp. He uses cutting anger and snark and sarcasm as a defense mechanism, this reflects in a scent that burns your nose. But he cares and loves a lot and is super soft, hence the honey. If you focus on his scent too much your eyes water with the chili. When he gets angry he send tears down everyone’s faces and even reddens the cheeks and burns the tongues of the supernatural pack members in his anger, his scent becoming physical as his spark acts up.

Peter: He smells like cold. Like cold, and petrichor and mint toothpaste. He always has. He smells like the cold of ice, the cold you smell when you open a freezer in the cold isle of the grocery store and like Vick’s Vaporub but 10x as strong. As the left hand of the pack it was his job to kill, to eliminate threats, his job to bear all the blood on his hands, to have his hands permanently stained sticky red and his eyes glow blue, so that no one else in the pack has to live with the guilt of murder, even when justified. His first kill was at 8 years old and he would never forgive the fact that he had been given that burden. So he became unmovable ice and unending cold. With the thick smell of rain for the warmth he would always keep hidden.

Theo: His scent is that of fresh, right off the smoker, BBQ sauce-soaked ribs and apple juice. Its a scent he was born with, one that reflects the gooey warmth of his soul and his innocence before he was manipulated and tortured. His scent always throws people off since it usually reflects ones personality and he’s not a good person by any means, he is amoral and cruel; and such a warm, soft scent doesn’t make sense. But his soul (though no longer pure) would always hold his original innocence. The apple juice isn’t actually his scent, but his sisters, her heart such a part of him that his guilt manifested her soul in his scent. And if you focus hard enough, underneath all that you can find the sting of bleach. His time with the dread doctors (and the fact that he was surgically tortured into being a chimera) leaving part of his scent mangled and altered into the artificial tang of bleach. The fact that he forced his scent to remain mostly unchanged throughout his life (which was worse than hell on earth) is Very Very Impressive, even more so when in the beginning he wasn’t even supernatural.

Scott: Our ever-sweet true alpha. He smells like overly sweet pink and blue cotton candy and hot, buttered, movie theater popcorn. He’s literally sugar and spice and everything nice. His morals and warmth translating to the hot popcorn and his perpetual smiling and niceness coming though as cotton candy. He smells like fairgrounds and the laughter of children. Underneath all that he bears the subtle scent of rust,  a permanent reminder of his forced change to the supernatural and permanent resentment of the burden he must bear (and the guilt about that resentment)

Derek: He smells of Sandalwood, Patchouli, and Frankincense. He always smells like incense and spices, like the inside of a stereotypical fortune tellers shop. He becomes heat, warmth, and flame. Something that pulls at his soul since the fire. Something that is a comfort to the wolves around him. He also smells heavily of smoke (something that makes Peter unable to be in the same room as him for longer than 30 minutes unless forced) because of his never-ending guilt about his family, something that seared the event into his scent. When he’s angry (which is a lot) his scent gets stronger and the incense smell becomes extremely heady and makes his betas lethargic.

Lydia: She smells like metal, like your hands after handling handfuls of change. She smells like she bathed in pennies, her standoffish coldness bringing the bitter smell to her scent. Since she became a banshee she also smells strongly of spider lilies (also know as hell flowers), japans flower of death. You would think the contrast between bitter metal and floral scents, so strong you choke, would be bad but its actually strangely comforting. And while bitter its the only thing that can get Jackson to relax some days. The scent of the only person there for him for over a decade-and-a-half sometimes even more comforting than the scent of his boyfriend.

Isaac: His scent is of strong cologne even though he never wears any, he smells like he bathed in the Mahogany Teakwood candle from Bath and Body Works, or lived in an Abercrombie & Fitch for 50 years. He always had that smell, even as a child, but it just gets stronger the more confidence he gains. His childhood innocence and cleanliness of soul translates as a strong laundry soap smell. But hidden underneath there's an undertone of metal, plastic, and cold; that takes over his scent when he's scared and overwhelmes everything in a mile radius. It takes the Pack far too long to realize it smells like a freezer and metal chains.

Allison: She smells strongly of ozone and static (not rain though, never rain). Her anger and righteous fury making her scent like electricity and making the static-y-ness tingle in everyone's nose - sometimes making Scott sneeze. Nothing in her scent is pleasant or comforting to everyone's confusion. Its only when she feels negative emotions that she smells like roses and summer. Its like a warning but in reverse, the opposite of what it should be. Bad scents usually mean bad emotions or feelings or memories, and good scents mean good moods and positive things but for her its the opposite. Just like how she took the opposite path then what was laid out for her.

Jackson: He smells very very heavily of cherries, his scent so strong and sweet its like he took a bath in a hot tub filled with cherry cough medicine, chloraseptic cherry sore throat spray, cherry pie, cherry starburst, cherry Jell-O, and maraschino cherries. Its thick and sticky and strong enough to drown out the scent and stick for hours on anyone standing near him or touching him and it lingers on the Pack members even if they haven’t seen each other for years. Case-in-point: Jackson left for England after the kanima thing and Isaac left for France not long after. When Isaac came back 6 years later (2 years after Jackson came back) he still had the smell on him pretty strongly. Why cherries? No one knows. But its thick as hell and stronger than epoxy when it binds to things together forever. The Pack thinks it stems with his identity and abandonment issues, but once he claims you he wont let go, not even his scent. He is very self conscious and embarrassed about it so its never discussed, and he’s been friends with Danny for so long that his scent almost drowns out Danny’s own. 

Ethan: Ethan’s scent is subtle and barely there. He was the one who always stood in front of Aiden to protect them, and took the beatings when possible so his scent became as bland and barely-there as possible. The Pack can only smell his scent with intense focus and at least an hours meditation (unless you’re Aiden). He smells of freshly baked bread and homemade jam, comforting smells that easily calm Aiden down. In times of distress he smells of burnt toast, he scent twisting with negative memories. A reminder that all good things have eventually turned bad for him and his twin.

Aiden: Aiden on the other hand smells strongly like curry and lavender. An odd combination but one that speaks of his guarded- but angry, headstrong and stubborn- nature. The abuse left him angry and twitchy and paranoid, everything setting him off and his moods turning on a dime. His scent fluctuated wildly between spicy curry and calming lavender which indicated his mood and Ethan was the only one able to calm him down, doing so with a single touch between his shoulder blades where they merged.

Danny: Danny smells like he lived in a Eucalyptus oil factory for 50 years, the scent soothing and calm like he is. Its always the same and never changes, not even when his emotions do. It was concerning at first, since everyone else’s scents changed throughout the day, even when their mood didn't (the only other scent that barely changed was Peter’s but that was because the man hand an iron grip over his emotions, even in his scent. Which is super impressive). He was just that calm at all times, even when annoyed. The one time he got angry- and I mean really angry not just the pretenses he kept when ‘annoyed’ with Stiles who he more endeared with than anything- his scent overwhelmed the entire apartment complex ( the one Derek had bought out for his loft) with the horrible, strong, pungent scent of burnt rubber. No one angered him again.

But they did have a chat about his witch ancestry.

Erica: Her scent was that of a bonfire. A blazing bonfire, gasoline, and the smell of the world when it was so hot outside the air above the tar street shimmered. She was competitive, and fierce, and pure heat and burning. If she wanted something, she would take it she had always been that way, even when she was sick. And while her sickness may be gone she had a subtle distortion to her scent, one like poison, that made her always smell slightly sick. (Peter almost had a panic attack when he first met her because of her scent, he now never came within 10 feet of her).

Boyd: He smelled like a flower garden. He was so stoic that the floral scent took many by surprise. He had always smelled like soil and dirt, his down to earth personality manifesting as a calming and grounding scent. He also smelled like the ocean, like salt and brine, and waves. But that was all drowned out by the overwhelming smell of flowers, a scent that used to be his sisters, one that he subconsciously adopted after her death when he was still human. He empathized with Theo and would exchange heavy glances when the pack discussed their natural scents as a ‘pack bonding exercise’, they were both drowned in guilt for different reasons, but both over lost sisters. They never discussed it. That was all folks!!! Feel free to add on to this and/or use it as a fanfic reference!!! Do you agree??? What are your headcanons???

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

*SHORT SERIES 

Part 1: I Never Wanna See You Again

Member: *screaming* Lee JuyeON

Genre: angst, fluff, romance, chaebol/lawyer juyeon, and... smut????

Links to other parts:

I Never Wanna See You Again

~

Love Somebody (light smut)

Play With Fire (smut) 

“you’re a fucking lawyer.”

a soft chuckle escapes your ceo’s lips as he turns away, signalling to a staff you didn’t even notice standing in the corner of the living room.

“can i get two cups of tea please? thank you.”

you look at him, completely stunned and at a loss of words.

all this time, you just thought he was making you do all the work while he hid in the office. sunwoo and eric even made jokes about him jerking off in his big ol’ fancy chair...

when he was working on parts of the case that even you were blind to.

everything you did and researched on were just the basic facts and details he needed before he could pull out any more in-depth information and evidence to help you win the case.

and it hurt to know that there was no way you could’ve done it.

“do tell me when you’re done being surprised. we’ve got a lot to discuss about this case,” he comments emptily, not even looking at you while he pulls your file over for him to read.

“i’m sorry, but what the fuck?” you blurt out, completely forgetting that you were sitting right in front of the man who could fire you instantly. you should’ve shut up after the first time you called him a ‘fucking lawyer’, but you nearly regret it the moment you cursed again.

“you really need to work on your people’s skills,” he smirks, eyes still focused on the files. “you may be capable of clearing cases, especially for a newbie, but if you go off cursing in every line that comes out of your mouth, it becomes a valid reason for me to fire you. i can’t have you spitting those curse words in court.”

shut up or ask him again?

shut up or ask him why he hasn’t showed up in office for the last six months?

shut up or ask him why he hasn’t told anybody he’s a lawyer when the entire office is scared shitless of him and has no clue who he even i--

“what the fuck?”

your ceo sighs and drops his head a little, his hold on the sheets of paper loosening as he looks at you through the corners of his eyes.

“you know the entire office is either scared of you or hates you because everybody thinks you’re just...” you aggressively flail your hand around. “doing nothing.”

“aaaand may i know who exactly is ‘scared of me or hates me’?” he raises a brow. 

“i don’t know-- like every newbie is afraid to ask about you. i asked lee jaehyun and he shooed me away--”

“ah, that man kept his word.”

you frown, your confusion reaching a new height you never thought was possible.

“damn, now i owe him a trip to japan.”

“a trip to jap-- it was a bet?!” you nearly yell, but the staff arriving with your tea urges you to collect yourself for the umpteenth time today. 

and it wasn’t even 10 yet.

“finally a sentence without a curse word,” he says while nodding at the staff member. 

“what did you bet on?! whether he could keep his mouth shut about who you really are?! it doesn’t answer anything about why you’ve never stepped foot into the office, or why you act like an ass, or why you don’t even mention the fact that you’re a lawyer yourself--”

“whoa, whoa, whoa.”

you calm down from your high, not noticing that your voice was gradually getting louder. you couldn’t believe it. you felt so played by this man that you had nothing to say. 

it’s not like he did anything that actually hurt you or anything, but the fact that the entire office was so terrified of him or that nobody has said anything about him... when it was all a lie? 

“need i remind you, again, that i can fire you?” he leans back into his seat, hand holding the tea cup and you suddenly take note of how small the china looks in his hand. 

you swallow your saliva, noticing that your throat was dry and your heart was pounding in your chest. 

“if you must know, lee jaehyun was my senior when we were in law school. so yes, i had a bet with him to say that he wouldn’t be able to keep it to himself. my real identity, of course. he begged everyone else in the office whom i’ve met before to keep quiet about it. he would win once a newbie figures out that i’m a lawyer, which i guess he did.”

you could feel multiple question marks ascend from the top of your head. 

that was one problem down, but what about him MIA-ing for six months? what about him being such an asshole?

“now, can we get back to the case? i got my cousin to get you here to discuss more about the case, not to let you remind me that i lost a bet to jaehyun hyung.”

his what--

“yes, your manager is my cousin. now get a hold of yourself and let’s get this done with, please?”

you were so not used to him saying please after the last conversation you had with him was him asking you to get out of his office with his eyes. 

you try your best to wipe away all the questions that were being scribbled across the whiteboard in your head while he begins discussing the case with you. he points out little details and facts that linked in ways you never could’ve thought of. 

you were scribbling and writing notes in your own notebook while your ceo talks you through the whole ordeal. you throw out some ideas for defense and he does the same. you wonder if you’d ever have these in-depth discussions about a difficult case with sunwoo or chanhee or eric, ever. 

you were so absorbed in the case that you found yourself barefooted now, toes digging into the rug and you were now seated on the soft material between the sofa and the table. you don’t even notice until a staff member comes by your ceo and looks at you strangely. 

the staff bows and announces that lunch is ready as you struggle to your feet, embarrassed that you’ve completely made yourself at home in the middle of his living room. 

“oooh, what’s for lunch?” your ceo looks up at the staff member with puppy eyes, and it makes your gut churn. who is this man and what did he do with my ceo?

“three course meal, including ribeye steak with mushroom sauce and lobster, mr lee.”

you shoot your ceo a look of shock at the sound of the menu. 

“done by mrs jung, i assume?” he raises a brow, now standing up and patting down his black blazer, buttoning the base of his clothes. you fit your heels onto your feet, and you couldn’t help but wonder if the lunch had been catered for you, or he was going to kick you out of his penthouse.

you liked the first option, though the second would be more realistic and at least it’ll tell you that your ceo hasn’t been kidnapped and replaced by aliens. 

“yes, mr lee. she also prepared a red for you to pair with the steak, but she’s aware that you have a guest and you tend to be more particular about it when you do.”

your ceo turns to look at you, and you swore a small smile appeared on his lips at the sight of you awkwardly sitting on the sofa. 

“open the 1950 Chateau Latour,” he instructs the staff member, leaning forward to the table and carefully gathering the sheets of paper. he looks at you again, looking like he was making a decision in his head. 

“and get me a pair of house slippers for her. i don’t want her heels making noises all around the house.”

you let everything go with the flow, and soon you found your heels being taken away into some secret storage room near the lift. your feet were then presented with a pair of cotton slippers you’ve never felt so comfortable in. you were so happily engrossed in the attention of the house staff that were helping you that you don’t realise your ceo already ran off to somewhere else in the penthouse. 

you were aggressively thanking the staff for giving you the most comfortable slippers ever when you see him emerge from a hallway behind the kitchen you didn’t even notice from before. he was leaning against the corner of the wall, head resting on the brown surface as he watched you awkwardly bow to the staff members and childishly slide your way over to him.

you had no clue how you were so comfortable in his house. maybe it was the difference in the way he treated his own staff, and maybe it was the way they treated you that made you feel so at home. 

sure, you weren’t used to such a pampered lifestyle, but you expected worse. 

“i thought i was going to need a microphone to get you to come eat,” your ceo pushes himself off the wall and keeps his arms folded across his chest. standing right next to him made you feel kind of short, now that you weren’t wearing your heels. you back up a little, suddenly letting the fact that you were in your ceo’s house get to your head. 

“sorry.”

you hear him offer a tiny laugh under his breath, and you watch as his feet turn away and walk down the hallway. you trail after him, now only noticing that there was a single pair of doors to the right, between two family portraits.

you try to make out the faces under the dim, amber lighting now that you were away from the glass window, but he pushes the door open to a dining room. beyond the large table was a similar glass panel, but right above your heads hung a gorgeous chandelier with the light from outside reflecting off the crystals and painting diamonds on the walls. 

your ceo strolls in, and you follow closely behind, eyes still adjusting to all the details in the dining area. 

“you really didn’t need to be so extravagant with lunch and all--” you try to show your appreciation as the staff pulls out the chairs for the two of you and lay a napkin in your lap. 

“save it,” he interrupts. again, he wasn’t looking at you, but nodding at the staff members for helping him with the chair and the napkin. “i don’t have people over often because i don’t like it. today was just an exception because i had an important call to make and other things to attend to that i couldn’t do in office without losing my bet.”

an awkward pause. 

“and i feel bad for making you leave office just to accommodate me, so take this as a token of appreciation or gratitude or whatever you want to believe it is.”

you stifle a smile, but fail miserably. 

maybe an alien really kidnapped your boss, but you liked this version better anyway. 

you expected lunch to be boring and quiet, but all he does is call out for different staff members and offer them bits and pieces of his food, even asking mrs jung, the chef, to whip up snacks and dishes for them to eat. 

you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t heartwarming to see this side of him. 

you see him laugh and smile while communicating with his staff members, and they genuinely looked happy to be here. you’d totally expect them to be scared or worried about making a mistake, but never does your boss once falter even when one of the staff member nearly drops a plate while clearing them off the table. 

you were finally done with dessert and you could feel your pants tighten around your waist as you sit up. your boss was just calmly wiping his mouth with the napkin before politely handing it over to a staff member to clear. 

soon, you found yourself back in his living room, tummy filled and heart satisfied. your boss was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he was off chit-chatting with the staff members. the food coma was slowly sinking in and the warmth from the wine was making you more comfortable, when the same staff from before you gave you the slippers showed up next to the sofa with a set of clothes. 

“miss?”

you jerk at the call, and you immediately sit up. 

“uh...” you blink, confused at the sight. you were starting to think this was all a dream and that none of it was real. maybe the coffee you had a little off was wonky and now you’re just hallucinating--

“i told mr lee that you looked uncomfortable... so i asked him if it was okay that we got you a more comfortable set.”

“oh!” you exclaim in surprise. you hop to your feet, unsure if you should take the clothes. “i... wouldn’t it be strange if i did...?”

“it’ll be worse if he catches you being uncomfortable, trust me.” she smiles at you, kindly stretching the clothes out to you. 

it was so strange, and you don’t think the word “strange” would’ve cut it. 

the clothes fit you almost perfectly, the staff were working around you like you lived here, and your boss was nowhere in sight. 

it’s almost like you walked into an alternate dimension and you were just living a life that you could only dream of. 

you walk out of the over-sized walk-in wardrobe and bathroom after the staff makes sure you’re comfortable and return to the living room, the case files still strewn about and his stacked nicely. a staff was waiting by the sofa, so you could only guess that he must’ve had some kind of message from your boss.

“mr lee will be stuck in his office for most of his day. he has requested for you to stay for as long as you need before you finish whatever you need to do with the case files. here’s a note that he told me to pass to you.”

the information and the rest of the ideas you need to connect the dots and wrap up the case are all already in the file. whatever you told me this morning made sense so i trust that you’ll be able to finish up on your own.

i’ve already informed mrs jung of your possible stay for dinner, so stay if you work past 8pm.

if you live too far away and you’re uncomfortable with taking public transport home, you can stay over for the night if you need to as well. 

my staff and chauffeurs get off work at 6pm so i’m not going to ask them to send you home. 

you look up at the staff member, for the umpteenth time today, wondering: what the fuck?

you sigh to yourself as the staff member leaves you with all the work on the table. the obligation to finish whatever you could today washes over you as you realise what you were really here to do.

he never wanted to take credit for your work. instead, he was letting you take his. as you scan through all his notes and research, you realise that it was more than enough to help you close the case, even if you didn’t win it. 

there was no name on any of his research papers, compared to your worksheets that he made you write your name on every day. so if you were to compile all the information yourself, he was giving you the green light of finishing the case on your own.

you couldn’t help but to let the guilt grow inside you, as you realise that you had been so easily fooled by the way he treated you. though it made no sense that he was such a horrible boss on first sight, you come to terms with the fact that maybe he wasn’t that bad after all. 

LATER THAT EVENING

you jerk awake at one of those strange sensations of falling in your sleep, then it hits you. 

you fell asleep. 

your neck was aching, and you pull away from the table, the sheets of paper stuck to your arms as you shift yourself from the horrible sleeping position. the sky outside was darkening, leaving only red and orange streaks across the sky. you look down at your work, letting the satisfaction fill your lungs once you realised that you were done with the case. 

even if you lost, it was because the stupid company thought doing whatever it did was a good idea. 

but with your boss’ workings, you might actually have a shot at winning the case.

you struggle to your feet, noticing the lack of commotion around the house. you search for a clock somewhere, and it was already past 6.15pm, which meant all the house staff were gone. 

the house was so quiet, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever felt lonely living here on his own. 

such a big space, but for one person only. 

you remember the portraits outside the dining hall, so you don’t hesitate to stride over in your comfy cotton slippers, in your warm clothes provided by him to check out the portraits. 

you squint your eyes, the terrible lighting ridding you of any ability to actually see anything constructive out of the portraits. you didn’t want to turn on the lights because you didn’t want to get caught snooping around in his house, but the light flickers on anyway, and you raise your arm in a bid to shield your eyes from the sudden illumination.

“had a nice nap?” you look to your left where the living room area was, and he was changed out of his black fitting, now in a more comfortable blazer and cotton shirt and what looked like... joggers?

“thank you...” you quietly say, your hands fiddling with each other on your stomach. “for your workings and pointers.”

he tilts his head upwards a little at your display of gratitude, his eyes travelling from you to the portraits that he had caught you staring at just moments ago.

“you want to know why i wasn’t in office for the last six months since he handed me the law firm?”

you look up at his question, taken aback that he would even bring it up. 

“it’s because i didn’t want it. he gave it to me without telling me, but i was ready to run off a live a life for myself. i’ve already arranged for myself to go overseas and do charity work for the next year at the point of time he said he wanted to let go of the firm. i said, ‘no, you’ve worked so hard for it’. and the next day, he signs everything to me.”

you listen carefully, hearing an unfamiliar tone in his voice. he went from slightly spiteful, to sad, to obligatory, and you could tell just how mixed his emotions were. you turn to look at the portraits, and you now see that they were portraits of him and his family. 

“after he gave me the firm, i moved out here alone. i couldn’t stand the sight of him because he just went ahead and did something he knew i didn’t want to do. he knew i just wanted to do charity and work on that, not take over his law firm. in the end, i left and i was away in countries like cambodia, myanmar and other countries helping to build schools and hospitals.”

you return your attention to him, failing to notice that he was now only about a metre away from you. your hands hug your torso as you search his face for any more emotion than the one he had plastered on for the last few minutes. 

“so you spent six months away, doing charity work... and you came back because of obligation.”

your words seem to strike a chord in him, because he immediately looks away, almost like he realised he had been seen through. 

he sucks in a deep breath, running his hand through his now soft, un-waxed hair. 

“i’m sorry, for being such an ass when we first met,” he looks at you with the same movement as he always does: looking at your through the corners of his eyes. “i was just angry and frustrated at how things turned out, and now i’m stuck with this stupid law firm just ‘cause i said he worked so hard for it.”

you offer him a weak smile, reaching out carefully to pat him on the shoulder. it was awkward, but you could only hope it brought him comfort. 

what you don’t prepare yourself for was when he shifts forward, suddenly connecting his lips to yours. 

you shiver upon the contact, pulling away in surprise as your eyes scan his for any sign of remorse or regret. 

your heart was racing and you’ve got absolutely no clue why. 

was it the way his eyes were digging your soul out of your body? was it the way you felt so comfortable around him today, despite him being a mean shit to you the day you met him? 

but almost instinctively, you reach up and wrap your hands around the back of his neck to pull him in again, this time shutting your eyes as you tasted him. 

he shoves you against the wall, hand behind your head so you don’t injure yourself and he picks you up, using the wall as support to keep your legs wrapped around his waist. 

the kisses were sharp, harsh, hungry.

never in a million years were you expecting this. 

his fingers dig into your hips and trails them along your legs, pushing them inwards so they were securely wrapped around his waist as he walks the both of you to the living room. 

you wonder how he was able to gently lay you on the sofa despite your body weight clinging to his torso, but he does it anyway and every thought disappears from your head when he plants soft kisses on your neck. his hands were roaming your stomach and looking for your hips, holding them up as he set his pelvis between your thighs. 

you could feel his bulge growing under the material as he kissed and nibbled on the skin of your neck, careful not to leave any marks. 

“if you’re not okay with this, please tell me.” he whispers into your ear, stopping for a moment. 

“i’m fine. i’m just... surprised, that’s all.”

he pulls back and looks at you with eyes that you’d be afraid of two weeks ago, but now all they do is create more butterflies in your stomach. 

“i just... it’s been so long since someone’s seen through me like this. after sang yeon told me about you working till late... and that you look tired even at work but you never once fall asleep... it reminded me of me when i first became a lawyer.”

your heart shatters at his little speech, and your hand reaches up to brush his cheek. 

“watching you work reminded me of why i even became a lawyer. you... you’re my restart button, and you make me want to work again.”

a smile breaks out on your lips and tears threaten to collect in your eyes. the sincerity in his voice was what told you that this man was vulnerable after all. you offer him comfort by pulling his face down and kissing him, letting fate decide whatever should happen next...

you were jerked awake for the second time that evening, but this time you were in juyeon’s arms, skin against skin under the blanket that you don’t even remember seeing even while he fucked you mindlessly against his expensive couch. 

you let the sound process in your brain, when you realise your phone was going off in your suitcase. 

juyeon wakes up from his lazy slumber too, grabbing his bottoms and pulling them on carelessly while he heads for your suitcase. his eyes were still closed when he picks up the call, and you couldn’t help but admire his back muscles.

“hello? oh, yeah. no, she’s not kidnapped, she’s still with me. yeah... no... yes, it’s your boss...”

your eyes widen once you realise who was on the other end of the line. you wrap the blanket around yourself and surge forward to snatch the phone away from juyeon and you press the phone to your ear without thinking twice.

“chanhee...”

“okay... WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Part 3: Love Somebody

[a-froger-epic]

What are your top 5 favorite angst moments in fics by other people

Thanks for resending the ask! The original one seems to be stuck in Tumblr limbo.

This was so hard. I literally just spent 45min going through my bookmarks and I could point you to some people's entire fic catalogues or entire fics without being able to pic a single scene in particular because they have so much delicious angst. (Yeah, I'm looking at you @aboutnothingness and @freddieofhearts and @i-lay-my-life-before-queen's Omegaverse Froger, or also @immistermercury's Jimercury ballet!Freddie epic and really several oneshots by some of my favourite authors in their entirety.)

But. I had to choose. So here are, in no particular order, some scenes:

---

Princes of the Universe by @tikiniki

Sci-fi AU. John saves Prince Freddie's life. 😰

Then, through the screams and gunfire, John heard Roger’s voice.

“John, Freddie! Watch out!”

And John spun around, just in time to see Roger throw himself towards Kassius, Kassius who had his gun raised and aimed at Freddie’s back.

His breath caught in John’s chest. Roger wouldn’t be fast enough.

He wasn’t.

The release of the bullet from Kassius’s gun disappeared in the rest of the noise. John acted on instinct.

He was barely conscious of moving at all. He barely noticed shoving Freddie to the side as hard as he could. He didn’t hear the surprised outcry leaving Freddie’s mouth.

But he felt it. Felt when the bullet pierced his chest.

The force of the bullet made him stumble back. He tried to draw a breath, tried to make a sound, but all was white-hot pain. The next second the guards were upon them. John was shoved in the chaos, his knees buckling beneath his weight.

Unable to catch himself, he fell over the edge of the pool.

Just before he breached the surface, he heard it.

The sound of voices crying out his name.

He smiled as he hit the water.

---

Aftercare by @bisexualroger

Freddie got mugged. 🥺

There’s an alien quality to the mirror, despite the fact that Freddie uses it every day and has done for months now. Perhaps it’s not the object itself that’s unfamiliar, but rather what it’s reflecting, the offending image subsequently contaminating the rest of the room with its strangeness. Lucky for him though; if the face in front of him registered as his own it might be too much for him to handle. Today’s been difficult enough without having to fully acknowledge the physical consequences of his earlier misfortune.

Freddie leans closer to the glass. The sight makes his lip tremble and his hands shake, but he swallows down his distress and reminds himself to view it objectively. It’s not his face, just a problem that needs to be fixed.

Taking another deep breath he tries again to go in with the cotton wool pad. Slippery with alcohol the cheap fabric desperately wants to slide out of his hand, but he keeps his grip steady as he brings it to his face. Immediately though the burning sting has him wincing. He tries to hold his nerve but the pain only intensifies, making his eyes prickle so he can no longer see what he’s doing. With a stifled cry of frustration he tosses the wool down into the sink and slides to the floor.

Once there his first instinct is to curl in on himself, but the pain in his ribs prevents him from doing so, which only makes matters worse. He’s been at this for fifteen bloody minutes, and much as he wants to shout and rage at the unfairness of it all his anger is infuriatingly manifesting itself through tears rather than determination. For goodness sake all he wants to do is have a hot shower and forget the entirety of this awful day, but he can’t until he’s dealt with this. It’s so agonisingly unjust.

---

The Path of Nevermore by @plainxte

Things are complicated. *sings* Give me one night only, one night only... 😭

"Yeah. I should probably head out," Roger said, looking around him. He was sure there was somewhere that he had promised to be that day.

"Please, Rog," Freddie said. "Don't go. Don't leave me alone. I mean. Don't send me to the path," Freddie said.

Roger turned to him with a smile. It quickly faded when he studied the look on Freddie's face: he was completely serious, and there was no hint of amusement in his eyes. He meant it, Roger realised. When Freddie said nothing more, just continued to look at him, it finally hit him what Freddie was saying. The seriousness of what he was asking.

"Of course I won't leave you," Roger whispered. "You know that. I wouldn't. But you know I can't, I can't – "

Freddie carefully lifted one hand, putting it hesitantly on his cheek, only just touching. His fingertips ghosted over Roger's cheekbone. "I know," he said. "And that's not what I meant. And I can't, either. But just for now. Please don't go. Please."

Roger took a breath. His thoughts were getting no clearer; if anything, his whole head seemed to be in a fog. He wasn't thinking; he couldn't think. He could only nod. Freddie leaned closer, and Roger closed his eyes. After what seemed like an age, he felt soft lips touch his. He reached up his own hand to Freddie's face, skimming over his jaw to come to a rest in his hair.

"And about time, too," he breathed.

---

Sobering Up by... oh whoops, it seems their tumblr was deleted or changed names. Well, nevermind, I still love this fic so much.

Roger and Freddie don't know how to deal. 💔

They lie there afterwards, stewing in a pregnant silence. Normally, sex put Roger right to sleep but this… he was unable to wrap his head around any of it.

He rolled over to lie on his stomach away from Freddie. He took a pillow and clenched it tightly in his arms, pressing his face deeply into it. Some animal instinct was telling him if he squeezed hard enough then the painful sickening swirl of emotions in his chest might ebb away.

Freddie softly cleared his throat. “Rog,”

“Hm?” Roger feigned sleepiness. He didn’t feel like having any kind of pillow talk.

“What…” Freddie faltered. “What do you think the future has in store for us?” Roger felt his heart seize up.

“What’d you mean ‘us’?” His voice was muffled in his pillow, but it didn’t mask the cracking on the last syllable. He heard Freddie make a sharp intake of breath.

“Queen.” He said. “What do you think we’ll be like in the future? D’you think we’ll make it?”

Roger was quiet at first. Freddie wasn’t the type to avoid the elephant in the room like this.

“Dunno,” Roger sighed, still clinging tightly to his pillow. “But I won’t stick around if there are better places to be.”

“Are there better places to be?” Freddie’s feigned curiosity did nothing to hide the anxiety in his voice. And it dawned on Roger that they weren’t going to talk about the sex. They were never going to talk about it. It had happened and that was all. It was too big, much too big, for either of them to face. This was Freddie’s way of asking if Roger was okay with that.

Roger didn’t exactly feel relief at this revelation. Somehow he felt like he had given Freddie a much more intimate part of himself than he had given any other partner. And the seriousness of that weighed heavily on him. Nothing would be the same for him again. But it had to be.

---

On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves by @quirkysubject

Freddie falls in a puddle and can't get up (also this scene is way too long to quote all of it, but like THIS WHOLE SCENE MAN 😭💕)

“Jesus, Fred, are you alright?” Hands are on his back, his shoulders, trying to urge him up. Oh, how Freddie wishes Roger would just leave him alone (liar, the warm and tiny and inextinguishable gleam of hope inside him whispers).

“Fine,” he mumbles as he lies face down in the mud, waiting, praying for the earth to swallow him up.

“Freddie, come on, get up.” The hands tug a little harder. And then, when Freddie just shakes his head, Roger’s hands slide under his armpits, and he is hauled upright with a frustrated, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

It’s this that does it. All ability to contain himself evaporates.

“I hate this so much!”

The words explode out of him. He can hear how his voice sounds, shrill, pathetic, whiny. Useless. But he can’t stop himself. “I hate everything about this. My ankle hurts and my arm hurts and I want proper tea with milk, and a bath, and my bed, and Tom and Jerry, and a slice of toast that is actually toasted and I… I just want to go home.”

It’s a small mercy that he can blame any wetness on his cheeks on the rain. Not that it will do him much good. He is throwing a tantrum at the worst possible moment, and Roger is going to do what he always does when Freddie is being unreasonable - walk out, have a smoke, come back an hour or two later when the storm has blown over.

Only if he leaves now, Freddie will melt into the ground and never come up again.

---

A special mention goes to a Doctor Who fic which is probably my favourite angsty fic of all time, because even though I'm not active in the Who fandom right now, I'm still Doctor/Master trash. And Locked in Orbit by @nicolauda (I think this is yours? Correct me if wrong) is one of the best goddamn pieces of writing with that ship that exist for me.