#hes actually beautiful with words his ass LOVES Shakespeare !!!!!
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Plot of trigun (1998)
#trigun#nicholas d. wolfwood#vash the stampede#trigun fanart#my art#it would probably make more sense with meryl but I thought wolfwood would be funny#also cuz nichol-as. lawl#I love the stupid poetry Vash reads off at the end of every episode in 98#hes actually beautiful with words his ass LOVES Shakespeare !!!!!#he acts so dumb girl we know you're actually smart stop LYING. 🤦♂️🤦♂️🤦♂️#Wolfwood talks exactly like this too tho so. hes no better....#my sillies
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~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~
Klaus, Kol, Marcel and Elijah ❤ if you are a Finn fan, sorry. But I'm not.
18+ ---- {Masterlist}
This is just some headcanons on what I think dating & sex would be like with the Mikaelson men.
Warnings: Description's of sex, kinks & dirty phrases.
One-shot editions:
{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}
Klaus {Hybrids First!}
❤--Klaus is an unrepentant charmer and flirt, and will not be shy about pursuing you, but he will make it clear if he's after more than just sex.
❤--He has a way with words, and will say the most romantic things to you. I like to think he hung around with Shakespeare, so his poetry skills are insane. Like, he will casually say something about your beauty or personality, and you will still be thinking about it when you are in the nursing home.
❤--He's an artist, so he will love the way your body looks and will love drawing or painting you naked. He will have a secret place for his sketches of you, where only the two of you can see. He will create new paint colors to try and capture the color of your eyes. You will always find little folded up doodles he hides in your things, some romantic and some humorous.
❤--He's not one for pda, not because he thinks it's improper, like Elijah does. But because he's afraid his enemies will see him and use you against him. So in public, he's all about flirty glances and whispering something filthy in your ear. He has a way of making you feel seen and special, without making a scene.
❤--His ideal date is a long walk through the city, he will tell you countless stories of his conquests and past adventures, and will not shut up. But it's cute and will make you laugh, and you will find out more about him. He's less of a romantic than Elijah, but will still do sweet things. Like, he will surprise you with a trip somewhere just because, and he will always send you a bouquet of flowers.
❤--When it comes to sex he is a little more modern than Elijah and won't mind a more casual approach. He's fine with just having a quickie in the bathroom or against the wall, as long as you are both enjoying it. Out of all the Mikaelsons he is by far the roughest. He will pull your hair, slap your ass, bite, compel you, tie you up, etc. It's all consensual, and he would never actually hurt you. Klaus will absolutely eat your ass, and loves a good rimjob. He'll also love anal, and will be very vocal about his desires. He's also not against compelling you to cum over and over again until your legs are shaking and you can barely breath.
❤--Despite his roughness in bed he will never do anything degrading or shameful. If you want to experiment and try new things, he will not object. He's open minded and will indulge almost any fantasy, as long as you both feel comfortable. He will never force you to do anything, and will never call you names or belittle you.
❤--His favorite position is with you bent over something, with him fucking you from behind. This way, he can be in control and dominate you, while also allowing him to reach the perfect angle. He also loves to fuck while standing, and will often pick you up and fuck you against the wall, or against a table. He needs to feel in control and the way you cling to him is a huge turn on. He knows he's doing a good job when your nails dig into his back and when you scream his name. He loves dirty talk and is extremely good at it, he loves to whisper filthy things in your ear like:
~♡~ "Louder love,"
~♡~ "Fuck, you're so wet for me,"
~♡~ "You like when I do that, don't you?"
~♡~ "Don't be shy, sweetheart,"
~♡~ "So pretty and all mine,"
~♡~ "You feel so fucking good,"
❤--In terms of oral sex, he loves receiving it. He will demand that you get on your knees and suck him off, and will pull your hair as you do it. He will be very vocal, telling you how good it feels and will have a string of filthy praises falling from his lips, like:
~♡~ "Such a pretty mouth,"
~♡~ "Take all of it,"
~♡~ "Look at me when you're sucking my cock,"
~♡~ "Just like that, love,"
~♡~ "That's it. Swallow it all"
❤--He also loves to fuck your face, he will have a firm grip on your hair and will thrust into your mouth at a rough pace. He's not ashamed of the noises he makes, and will make sure that you're looking at him as he comes undone. He will make you gag, and he will love it. He will love the way your mascara runs and the tears that run down your cheeks. But he will only do this if you enjoy it. If you tell him no or show any signs of discomfort, he will stop immediately, and make up for it by making you cum.
❤--He loves to drink your blood and will often bite you during sex. It's not just the pleasure, but it's also a claim and a sign of possessiveness. He likes to mark his territory and show others that you are his, and only his.
❤--Because of his possessive nature, he will not be able to control himself when someone else flirts with you. He'll have his hands all over you, making it clear that you're his, and anyone else would be stupid to try and touch you. He's also paranoid, and will have a hard time leaving you alone. Fear of abandonment is a big issue with him, and he needs constant reassurance that you love him.
❤--Once you break down his walls, he becomes very sweet and vulnerable. He will hold you and tell you how much he loves you and how beautiful you are. He will be endlessly thoughtful, but can easily take offense if you don't respond to his affection as he expects. It will take a lot of work to earn his trust, but it's worth it.
❤--Being in a relationship with him would be eternally wild and passionate, but after a millennium of pain, abuse, and trauma, the slightest betrayal can set him off. He's a little obsessive and can have a short temper. He can also be extremely manipulative and will lie to you and use his powers of compulsion to get what he wants. But it's not malicious, it's mostly a defense mechanism, and once he trusts you, he will open up and not use compulsion anymore. But he can't help his temper, and if he ever loses control and hurts you, he will hate himself and be full of self-loathing. He will apologize and ask for your forgiveness, and will not stop trying until he's earned your trust back. But he is not one to be trifled with, and if you betray him again, he will kill you, no matter how much it will hurt him.
Kol {this is the superior version, sorry not sorry}
❤--Kol is the funniest of the siblings and will constantly be cracking jokes and making quips. But he is also very charming and will sweep you off your feet with his smooth lines and devilish smile. He's the wild child of the family, and doesn't care about societal conventions, so he will not hesitate to ask you for sex, or inappropriately touch you in public.
❤--But his wild nature doesn't mean he is disrespectful. He respects boundaries and won't push you further than you're comfortable with. He's the kind of guy who will ask to have a threesome, and then not be mad if you say no. He loves to tease and make fun of you, but will stop if he goes too far. He knows where the line is, and will never cross it.
❤--His ideal date would probably involve going to a concert and drinking. He likes clubs and parties, but not fancy events, like his brothers do. He would love for the two of you to get absolutely hammered and have an adventurous night out on the town. But he would make sure that you were safe and would never take advantage of you. And he would definitely have a witchy hangover cure to give you afterwards.
❤--He is surprisingly intelligent and loves to teach you new things, especially if it involves science or the supernatural. He also loves to learn, he would be thrilled if you took him out and showed him things about the modern world. I personally think he would be stoked about VR or space travel, anything that would feel like the combination of magic and science to him.
❤--When it comes to sex he comes off as kinky, but I think it's just an act and that he's secretly just a sweetie. Like Elijah, I think he loves to make his partner feel good, but can come off as selfish until you are in bed with him.
❤--His favorite position would be cowgirl, he would love the view and the feeling of you riding him. He's not really into control the way his brothers are, and would prefer to let his partner take the lead. He definitely loves to talk in bed, and would constantly praise and flatter you. He would make you laugh in the middle of sex, it would never be too intense, always light-hearted and fun.
Some playful things he would say:
~♡~ "I like it when a woman takes charge,"
~♡~ "Darling, are you getting tired already?"
~♡~ "You know, if you really want my attention, all you have to do is ask. I won't bite...hard"
~♡~ "I would never compel you, but please, sit on my face next,"
~♡~ "Oh, that was definitely not your G-Spot, darling,"
~♡~ "Don't make me spank you again, love,"
~♡~ "I could never grow tired of such a lovely view,"
~♡~ "It's adorable the way you get all flushed,"
~♡~ "I think you might just be the death of me, but that's okay, I've done it before,"
❤--He would love for you to sit on his face, he will do it for hours if you let him. He would joke about how this time around he would prefer to die in this position, and will happily spend all day between your legs. He would adore teasing you, making you beg and whine. But once he starts he will have a hard time controlling himself, so it doesn't last long.
❤--He doesn't like being bossed around, and would rather have a mutual and playful partnership. He's into experimentation and would love to try new things with you. He would be the kind of guy to wear a silly costume for a Halloween or roleplay thing, he would have fun doing it and would never let his partner feel uncomfortable. He's the least picky and the most likely to hook up with someone just for a one night stand.
❤--He's not super jealous, but would love it if you were. He loves attention and being the center of your world, and would constantly flirt with other people, just to get a reaction out of you. He wants you to make him feel important, and will do anything to keep your attention. He will have a hard time showing his emotions, and will avoid getting too deep or serious, but he does care about you. If you really need him, he will always be there for you, no matter what.
❤--Unlike the rest of his brothers, his loyalty is not tied to his family. He will follow you if you leave, and will always protect you, even if it goes against his siblings.
❤--The dark side to Kol is his bloodlust and impulsivity. He will not hesitate to hurt or kill someone if they piss him off, and will be a bit of a hothead. He will need to work on his temper, but if you are patient, it will be worth it. He's a lot like his brother Klaus in that he needs reassurance, but unlike him, Kol won't try and control you.
❤--Unlike Klaus and Elijah, I think Kol's method for dealing with someone threatening you, would be an absolute tongue lashing. He will be the king of passive aggression and will destroy someone's ego by just a few choice words. If they're lucky, he will leave them alive, but will make sure they won't bother you again.
Marcel {that smile ❤}
❤--Marcel would easily be the best boyfriend on this list, mostly because he has less trauma than his adopted family, but also because he is better at handling problems in his life. Charming, hot and a total sweetheart, he would treat you like royalty.
❤--A date with him in New Orleans would be the experience of a lifetime, yes Klaus may have founded the city, but Marcel knows its people. He would take you to secret spots that capture the city's culture and history in ways that even Klaus would have a hard time replicating. He is the perfect host and knows the ins and outs of every street and venue.
❤--Marcel would take you out on a dinner date, perhaps a cool house party, where he would introduce you to interesting people. He would make you feel special in a way that isn't flashy or arrogant. He knows that you deserve the world and he would treat you as such, but without going over the top and making it a huge spectacle. He's down to earth in that way, but it doesn't make his effort less special.
❤--He's not possessive in a way that feels threatening or suffocating, he loves and respects you. He is loyal and kind, he loves making people laugh and always finds the good in everyone, even those who are difficult to see the light in, such as his adoptive family. But if anyone were to treat you disrespectfully or hurt you he would kick their ass without hesitation.
❤--His greatest trait is his loyalty, he is loyal to those he loves and will not give up on them. He has an emotional maturity and intelligence that is not seen in many of the Mikaelsons and is good at dealing with his feelings. He has the devotion of Elijah, the intelligent ruthlessness of Klaus and the compassion of Rebekah, but he is far superior at balancing these traits in a healthy way, and has very few of their negative attributes.
❤--Marcel is a self proclaimed king and a little arrogant, but not in a way that makes him feel better than anyone else. He's earned it through sheer will and hard work, his ego comes from the respect and loyalty of his people.
❤--Marcel is the perfect mixture of flirt and charisma. He is a man with an easy smile and a mischievous glint in his eyes. He is suave and confident, but he isn't a pushover or someone who can't be serious. He knows how to be in the moment and have fun, and he's not afraid to love.
❤--Sex with Marcel would be very giving and sweet, even though he's a dominant person in general, he knows how to balance this with being respectful and caring to his lover. His favorite positions are cowgirl or missionary, as he loves the eye contact and he will never complain when you take charge. I don't think he's very kinky, and is mostly focused on pleasing his partner and making sure they get what they need.
❤--He is also a huge flirt who would go out of his way to make you blush and make your heart skip a beat. I imagine his words being playful and teasing, not necessarily filthy but certainly dirty in an innocent way.
Some examples would be:
~♡~ "If you wanna get to know each other a little better, I'm up for a more private session"
~♡~ "I love that outfit, but I bet it looks even better on the floor"
~♡~ "Hey beautiful, wanna grab a drink, and maybe I can get a taste of something sweeter later?"
~♡~ "Damn girl, you're hotter than New Orleans in August,"
❤--He's very honest in bed, he'll tell you exactly what he wants and how he wants it. He's also very touchy, his hands would be on your hips or back, always guiding or supporting you, but not holding you down, unless that is something you want, in which case he is absolutely into it.
❤--The downside to dating Marcel is that his loyalties can conflict and it may get complicated at times. He will choose his city and the people he protects over his own desires. It can make his partners feel rejected and betrayed. But he will be as understanding and respectful as he can, he will do everything he can to make things work.
Elijah {obviously this one is the longest lol}
❤--Like a character from a romance novel, he loves to kiss your hand, cheek and forehead. He does this thing where he cups the back of your neck before pulling you close for a kiss. This gesture is not always necessarily romantic, but it's subtly possessive, putting him in control of the situation.
❤--He loves taking care of you and spoiling you with gifts. Expensive luxury gifts are a common occurrence, but so are small thoughtful things, like your favorite drink, or a small trinket that he saw you admiring.
❤--Known for his iconic style, he loves to help you find the perfect outfit for any occasion. He loves the way you look in the dresses and skirts that show off your legs. He also loves to buy you jewelry to match said outfits and always notices when you do something different with your hair.
❤--He's not one to talk about himself or his interests, but with a little encouragement, he will tell you anything. He'll talk for hours about literature and music if given the chance, you love to see his face light up when he talks about the things he loves.
❤--He's not into casual dating or relationships, so once he's committed to someone, he is loyal and faithful. Most of his relationships are initiated by the woman, because he is too polite and respectful to make the first move. Unless, of course, they are giving him clear signals, then he will become the dominant and seductive man we all know and love.
❤--He's not a one night stand sort of guy, and will only sleep with someone if he really cares about them. He won't even consider the possibility of cheating, and will expect the same from you. If you are having trouble committing, or if there is another person you have feelings for, he will let you go and try to move on.
❤--He is a man of tradition, and will always treat you like a lady. He will open doors for you and pull out chairs, and will not hesitate to correct any guy that is a little too friendly with you. He is protective but not possessive.
❤--But just because he's traditional doesn't mean he doesn't love independence. It turns him on to see a woman fight back and be able to stand on her own. But sometimes his protective nature gets the best of him, and he will try to protect you when he feels like you're in danger, even if you are more than capable of handling the situation.
❤--He's not very vocal about his feelings, and probably won't be the one to confess that he cares. But he will definitely show you with his actions, and is very loyal. If you're upset, he will give you space, but if he feels like you're bottling up your feelings, he will encourage you to talk about it. Since he has lived for so long he has lots of wisdom and can offer advice and comfort. He has a tendency to be the level-headed one in any situation, but can be very emotional, which is a side of him only his closest friends and family get to see.
❤--He is a great kisser, and is very passionate. He can take charge and be rough and demanding, or be sweet and romantic, whatever you're into.
❤--Elijah is also the most experienced and well-versed lover out of all the Mikaelsons, and that is saying a lot. One thousand years of experience as well as always being selfless in all aspects of his life, will result in some insane sex. He will take his time with you, exploring every inch of your body and discovering all your sweet spots. He knows what he's doing, and he's going to make sure you enjoy it. He is very patient and can last a long time, and is the master of multiple orgasms. He will make sure that he is the only thing you're thinking about when he is inside you.
❤--Missionary is his favorite position. He loves being on top and watching your face as he pleasures you. He loves to praise you and whisper sweet things into your ear as he fucks you, and loves to be dominant. He loves seeing you underneath him, writhing and moaning as he hits all the right spots. He loves hearing your moans and gasps, and the sounds you make when he kisses your neck. He will give you the best orgasm of your life, and he will do whatever it takes to make sure that happens.
❤--He loves oral sex, and you swear he might have popularized it during his travels in the middle ages. He will go down on you for hours, and will not stop until you're begging him to fuck you. He's very good at it, and will know exactly how to please you. You've never had a better orgasm than when he's eating you out, and he will make it his mission to give you as many as possible.
❤--He loves consent and will always ask before doing something new or different, he likes to make sure that you are always comfortable. He wants to hear your opinion and what you like, and will do anything to make sure that you are satisfied. As long as it's safe, and he knows you'll be enjoying yourself, he's not opposed to a little experimentation, but he doesn't really care for it either. He prefers vanilla sex, but he won't say no to anything.
❤--He is not used to others taking care of him, so he will likely try to deny his needs at first, not wanting to burden you. But once he realizes that you want to take care of him too, he will let his guard down. This level of trust from him is a precious thing, and it's a sign that he's falling in love.
❤--Once his walls are down, the kind of pleasure he loves to receive is intimacy. He will want to make love, not just have sex. He will want you to hold you and tell you that he loves you while making eye contact. He craves connection above all else, and will be very intense and passionate. He's too much of a gentleman to ask, but giving him oral sex will make him feel special, and because he hates messes, he prefers to come in your mouth.
❤--Although he may be the most vanilla and gentle lover out of the Mikaelsons, don't let that fool you, because once he lets his walls down, he is an animal. He will pound you into the mattress, and won't stop until he makes you cum so hard that you see stars. He loves to praise you and tells you how good you're making him feel, and loves to watch you come undone.
He'll say things like:
~♡~ "You look so beautiful like this"
~♡~ "I love the the pretty little sounds you make"
~♡~ "Tell me what you want,"
~♡~ "Look at me"
~♡~ "You feel so good"
~♡~ “I love the way you come undone”
❤--He's not very into public sex, but he has a thing for making you come on his fingers. He will find a quiet corner and fuck you with his hand, making you cover your mouth to keep from getting caught. He loves to look you in the eyes as he does it, asking you:
~♡~ "You like when I touch you like this?"
~♡~ "You have to be quiet, my love,"
~♡~ "Do you want more?"
~♡~ "That's it, just like that,”
❤--Elijah won't want to bite or compel you, but if you desire him to drink from you, he will, and will do it carefully and respectfully. He prefers to drink from your neck, gently cupping it the same way he does when he's pulling you in for a kiss. He will not be rough, and will take care not to hurt you. He will always heal the marks with his blood after, and will feel guilty if he draws too much blood.
❤--His aftercare is unmatched, and he will make sure that you are taken care of and pampered after. He will prepare a hot bath or shower, making sure you feel comfortable and loved.
❤--But this level of intense love and devotion has a dark side. If you are threatened or harmed by his enemies, there will be no holding him back. He will show no mercy and will not rest until he has made them pay. He is by far the most vicious in his family, and will go scorched earth on anyone who harms his loved ones. And he will do it with frighteningly calm precision, showing no remorse.
Finn whoops
☢--Finn and you can take a long nap together. Then you can hear him endlessly complain about his self-righteous bullshit, until you realize you made a huge mistake and you leave him.
{Part One -Klaus} ♡ {Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}
Thanks for reading! I swear I tried to make it short....
#elijah mikaelson#klaus mikaelson#elijah mikaelson imagine#elijah mikealson imagine#elijah mikaelson smut#klaus mikaleson imagine#klaus mikealson smut#kol mikaelson#marcel gerard#kol mikaelson imagine#kol mikaelson smut#kol mikaelson fanfiction#marcel gerard imagine#marcel gerard x reader#elijah mikealson#elijah mikaelson x reader#elijah mikealson smut#elijah mikealson x reader#the originals#the vampire diaries#tvdu#klaus mikaelson x oc#klaus mikealson fanfiction#vampire diaries#tvd#the vampire diaries x you#the vampire diaries x reader#the vampire diares imagine#the vampire diaries imagine#the originals imagine
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R&J Clown Takes Round ♾️ Part 15
In which a random Twitter thread justly 🙄 R&J anti clownery brings its own anti clownery. Also, Tumblr proves to be just as dumb about R&J as the rest of the Internet, surprise, surprise. Sometimes I am a beggar, and other times I dine richly. Let’s get to it!
“Dumb Horny Kids Still Have Rights!1!!1” Round ♾️
True, love can be devastating. Except that R&J’s love was not destructive. It is arguably the healthiest (and most passionate) relationship of equals in all of Shakespeare’s canon. Their love did not destroy them; it was society and fate that fucked them over.
I have no idea where this anti dumb misreading of Romeo getting made fun of for how quickly he falls in love comes from, and frankly by this point I don’t want to know.
Mercutio mocks him for his love for Rosaline, and tells him to get laid instead. Not a single word about how quick he is to fall in love. Actually, you get the impression that this is the first time Romeo has ever done anything like this. Benvolio and the parents are alarmed and even Mercutio gets a little worried, calling Rosaline “a pale, hard-hearted wench” for messing up his bro.
“A real love story” and “Stupid teenage relationship that resulted in six deaths” is some hot ice right there.
Tell me you missed the lesson on oxymorons in English class without telling me you missed the lesson on oxymorons in English class.
“Stupid Horny Teenagers!!1!!1” Round ♾️
The problem with all these condescending and honestly fake “defenses” is not just that they make no sense but that they are basically non-canonical. The play has a strong positive bias towards Romeo and Juliet and the depiction of their love is one of the strongest in Shakespeare’s canon.
If Shakespeare wanted us to take them as dumb horny teenagers, then he shouldn’t have given them a courtship arc in the first place or the most beautiful verse in the whole play. He should have just begun the play with them already in love and deciding to marry. The focus should have been on the feud. But of course that was not Shakespeare’s intention in the first place. Otherwise he would have never made R&J the main characters.
Tell me you don’t know what the word “pretentious” is without telling me you don’t know what the word “pretentious” is. Jesus Christ, how could you say Hamlet and Macbeth are not pretentious but Romeo and Juliet is? What does the latter even “pretend” to say? It’s a story about two teens in love and people killing each other ffs.
Collins wouldn’t know how to write a love story or a romantic arc if it bit her in the ass. She is even less of a romance writer than even Rowling.
One Based Take
👏
#romeo and juliet#rj clown takes#r&j clown takes#at least twitter is finally pushing back against this clownery#never thought i’d see the day#maybe we’ll see a full turn someday
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Bitty McLean - Forward
Release Info Label Taxi/Silent River/Tabou1 Format CD / LP / DR Street date April 14, 2023 Contact Website Record Label Facebook Artist1. Be Accepted 2. Back In My Arms 3. Let's Make Up 4. The Best Part Of Me 5. Love Has Gone 6. One Nation 7. Beauty You Are 8. The Need In Me 9. Glass House 10. Far As Eye Can See 11. Where Is Your Love? 12. Where Is Your Dub?Fans of Bitty McLean in Japan were granted the premiere of the UK singer's new album entitled Forward (30th Anniversary Limited Edition), which was released in the land of the rising sun about five months ago. After Movin' On (2009), Taxi Sessions (2013), and Love Restart (2018), Forward is the fourth full-length studio album that comes from the successful collaboration between Bitty McLean, Sly & Robbie, and Tabou1's label boss Guillaume Bougard. It all started with the 2005 single The Real Thing which became a hit and led to the recording of an entire album - Movin’ On. The rest is history. The Story Here's the story behind the album as told by Guillaume Bougard on the website of Tabou1 Records. "Robert Warren Dale Shakespeare departed Earth on December 8, 2021 after a year long battle. That day, I lost a fantastic musical partner and mentor, but also and more importantly, a dear, dear friend. That distressed me so much I didn’t have the heart to produce music. It took a few months to mentally get it back together. So in 2022, we felt it was essential to record an album in memory of Robbie. We curated riddims among those we had in the vaults, Sly sent a few more. Bitty and I wanted this album to be the absolute best possible so as to be worthy of all the love, the guidance, the friendship that was bestowed upon us by Robbie. Robbie would have never let us release a half-assed, or even a sad and depressed album, and Forward is anything but that. It is an ode to wholesome love and upright righteousness, in other words “uprighteousness” that we hope the notoriously demanding Robbie can appreciate where he is right now." Big Tunes Big tunes roam freely on this album, not least due to Bitty McLean possessing one of the greatest voices in reggae music, the artist's superb songwriting, and Sly & Robbie and the Taxi Gang’s exceptional musical skills. Apart from a relicked version of the riddim known from Hemsley Morris’ hit tune Little Things, this album features original backdrops that are strongly rooted in Sly & Robbie’s signature sound. Forward represents a continuation of outstanding material from the artist and the legendary Jamaican riddim twins and is a feast for the ears from beginning to end. And although his previous Taxi albums were very good efforts, this new set truly outmatches its predecessors. This album introduces itself in a mighty way with the gorgeous opener Be Accepted (in the sight of the Almighty one). A stunning track that benefits from a very committed delivery, vocally as well as lyrically. It's the kind of song that causes goosebumps everytime you listen to it. It's the first of several stunners that are to be found in this collection of tunes. One of them is the first single taken off the album, Glass House. This true killer piece is a reminder that one will face the consequences of their actions. Another one is the second single from the album, the head nodding Let's Make Up, underpinned by a riddim that harks back to the era of heavy rubadub. The song is an ode to getting things straightened out, to finding ways to live in love and peace. Definitely give the extended version of the comforting Love Has Gone more than a cursory spin, because it's a track of sheer beauty, Actually the same goes for the absolutely sterling Beauty You Are on the aforementioned relick of Hemsley Morris' Little Things. Also the rootsy Far As Eye Can See is one of the finest offerings here. In a certain way, the addition of Bitty McLean's melodica play evokes memories of sounds from Augustus Pablo productions. It's followed by the last vocal track on this album titled Where Is Your Love. A captivating song that sounds excellent and is a joy to listen to. And so is its dubbed out version, which is also very nice to hear. This album is dedicated to the memory of Robbie Shakespeare, U Roy, Dalton Browne, Mikey Chung, Nambo Robinson, Daryl Thompson, Uzziah "Sticky" Thompson, and John Johnson.Glass House Let's Make Up Playlist AlbumAds Where to get it
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Chapter 3: Continue Session
Pairing: Francisco "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader
Word Count: 4.9k
Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, Sex Worker!Frankie, implied other Triple Frontier Boys!Sex Workers, watch me make up shit about sex work, descriptions of male and female bodies, oral sex (f receiving), female masturbation, fingering (f receiving), safe PiV sex, a touch of Feral Frankie, one ass slap, fingers in mouths, cum eating, some angst and feelings sprinkled in there for flavor.
Notes: All the smut's in this chapter as if I hid my romance novel inside my Complete Works of Shakespeare while riding the subway.
Cross-posted on AO3
Something New Masterlist || Sex Worker!Frankie AU Series Masterlist
Frankie smiles but taps your lips lightly.
“I’m a stickler for these things, so verbally too, please.”
“Yes, Frankie, please…please go down on me.” Frankie’s lips part and a sigh slips out of them.
“I’m so glad you’re allowing me to give you this,” he murmurs into your skin as he lays an open-mouth kiss on your collarbone, his tongue thick and slippery. He grips the edge of your towel and sits up to look at you. Lust shrouds your vision in a haze he barely cuts through.
“Can I have you naked?”
“Yes,” you rush out, hardly waiting for the words to spill out of his mouth. Like a precious artifact he unwraps you, his hands soft and reverent against your humid skin. He takes a moment to drink in the sight of your body, and you want to feel embarrassed but instead you feel fucking powerful. This man, so handsome and strong and capable, looks like he’s going to crumble just looking at you.
His lips travel down your body, skimming over your nipple with a brief nip and a lick, skipping down your stomach as Frankie repositions himself at the foot of the bed. With your legs slightly parted, he eases his hands under your knees and pulls you further down. The force of it makes your breasts bounce and your legs fall open for him to gaze on.
“Fucking beautiful,” he groans, his hands gripping your thighs as he pushes you wider for him. A longer moan falls from his lips as he sees the evidence of your arousal. “Fuck. Fuck. Are you sure, babe?” His eyes dart back up, desperate with his lips parted and tongue resting between them.
“Yes, please,” you manage to whisper at this gorgeous man falling apart between your legs.
“Fuck, thank you,” he moans before slotting between your thighs. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, your cunt spread out for him. Looking up at you again, he catches your wide eyes before letting a positively filthy smile curl his lips. You open your mouth to say something but Frankie lowers his mouth to your core, unfurling his tongue and running it thickly through your drenched sex.
Frankie was absolutely right - he was good at eating pussy, and he clearly loved doing it. No teasing little touches or light licks, he buries his face in you, jaw working as he strokes and flutters. You are speeding towards an orgasm faster than you thought possible, hands fisting into the bedspread and thighs flexing around his head. Frankie tilts his face up to look at you, and your arousal gleams from the bridge of his nose down to coat his mustache. It must be dripping off his chin from how wet you feel.
“Careful, you crush my melon and this all stops pretty quick,” he teases and your laugh dissolves into breaths and moans as Frankie dips his head back into you.
It’s unlike any man who’s ever eaten you out before. Frankie’s hands wrap around your thighs, fingers digging into the flesh firmly to keep you right where he wants you. His eyes are closed, and the noises he’s making into your cunt threaten to actually drive you mad. Groans and sighs and swallows that are interrupted by gulps of air as you worry he might actually suffocate himself between your legs. Maybe crushing his head was the kinder way to go. Every vocalization and rumble drives more heat and slick to your cunt and Frankie feasts on you with an abandon that is hurtling you towards completion.
Frankie’s talented tongue pauses as he tilts his head to watch your pinched face and lips open in bliss. His breath is hot and fast against you, still dipping in for quick tastes and bristly kisses against your flesh.
“Please…” he whispers, and the plosive of the P against your clit sends a jolt through your body. You force yourself to look down at him and if anything could make you cum on command, it would be Frankie’s face begging in the valley of your sex.
“What…” you try, but your mouth is dry from all of the panting you’d been doing. You wet your lips and try again. “What do you need, gorgeous boy?” Frankie’s eyes roll up in his head and he drops his forehead to your mound, shoulders like golden plains stretched out behind him. He kisses your flesh then moans into it.
“Please touch me, baby. Need to feel you while I taste you.”
Lost in the pleasure boiling your brain, you want nothing more than for Frankie to feel even a fraction of what he’s giving you. You release the bedspread and weave your fingers into his hair, the moan that rumbles against your skin deep enough to spur on one of your own.
“Fucking beautiful girl, I’m going to make this so good for you,” he says, turning his face up to you. His eyes are glossy and barely focused on you, his lips parted sinfully. You try to speak but all words are punched out of your lungs and thoughts when Frankie rolls your clit against his tongue, his eyes still locked with yours. Fighting to keep your own eyes open, your mouth falls into a wordless O and your brows knit together in a face that almost looks pained.
“Fuck, Frankie, you’re fucking amazing,” you pant out, and the praise has his smile breaking through. He seals his mouth around you, working the flat of his tongue up and down. The pressure and speed is sublime and you feel the telltale swell and tightening of your orgasm approaching.
“Frankie, gonna…” you start to warn him, worried you might break his nose. Frankie moans like a man saved.
“Yes, fuck, give it to me. I fucking want it,” he growls into your cunt, and that sets you over the edge.
Your fingers are still in his hair, ready to yank him off, but he feels them tighten and lets go of your hips. Grabbing both wrists he pulls your hands from his hair and shifts up and above to press you into the bed, your thighs tightening around his ears. He holds your wrists at your sides and uses his new-found leverage to bury his face in your cunt just as you begin cumming.
The pressure, the friction, the insistent roll and press of his tongue and lips and jaw shreds your orgasm out of you. You wail as your hips rock and shudder against Frankie’s face. Chest heaving, you pant out Frankie’s name so he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that he’s the one responsible for the most earth-shattering orgasm you’ve ever had. It feels long yet incomplete, the pleasure ebbing down but your body still thrumming with energy and arousal. You’ve never cum and still felt this turned on after. What the hell did Frankie do to you?
Once your hips relax, Frankie eases back on the pressure and drags his tongue through you with long, slow licks. He’s careful not to press too hard against your clit, instead lapping around your entrance and sucking at your skin.
“Holy shit Frankie, I’ve never cum that hard before,” you choke out, hands coming up to your face to feel if you were still there. Your skin tingles all over, your head light, but Frankie only hums into your cunt before settling back down at the foot of the bed. His big hands are back on your thighs and he leans his head against your knee, your legs still framing him. He gives you a blissed-out smile, your arousal shining on his skin and making his mustache and beard look oiled.
“Glad I could be of service,” he chuckles, and you feel a dip in the moment, emptier at the phrasing. He was here to service you, but in those frantic moments it all blended together into something raw and animal. You’d forgotten yourself, and suddenly were embarrassed by your reaction. Of course he was good at making women cum.
Frankie taps his fingers on your thighs, directing your attention back to him. Fuck, he’s so gorgeous, like a lewd demigod between your legs. You push down your insecurities, blanket them in the afterglow.
“Hey, I’m fucking ecstatic that you came that hard. I loved every second of it.” He turns his head just enough to kiss the inside of your knee. “How are you feeling?”
You ponder your body for a moment, thrumming but somewhat satiated.
“I’m great, you were fantastic,” you pant out, and a mix of concern and heat flashes over Frankie’s face.
“Oh, don’t tell me this pussy’s gotten greedy and needs another?” Frankie’s head drags down your inner thigh and hovers close enough that you feel the heat of his skin radiate against your cunt. “I would never leave you unsatisfied, gorgeous girl.” The endearment makes a shiver run through you and Frankie definitely takes note of it.
“Let’s go a little slower this time. That last one was a race to the finish. Let’s meander.” Frankie’s fingers stroke up and down your thighs as he places little kisses along the creases of your body.
“Frankie, you don’t have to…” you start to say, and the look he shoots up at you quiets your voice.
“If you want me to stop, I will,” Frankie pauses to scrape his teeth along your skin, looking up at you to watch your reaction. “But if you think, for some reason, that I wouldn’t want to make you cum again…” His right hand slides off your thigh and disappears past the edge of the bed. He closes his eyes and sighs as you feel the muscles in his shoulder tighten, his arm flexing as he lets his lips part. A new rush of arousal comes at the realization that he’s trying to release tension from his cock. “...you should know how much I enjoyed doing it.”
“Fuck, Frankie…” you whisper, and he smiles into your skin. It’s so soft and affectionate you can’t help your hands going to his face and caressing his jaw. Your fingers scratch through his beard and he leans into your touch. He’s still damp from you near his lips, which you trace with your thumb. Mouthing at you, he chases your touch with half-closed eyes as he brings his hand back up to cradle yours. It’s intimate, Frankie pressing your palm to his face and looking up at you with kind, gentle eyes.
“If you say no, I’ll stop,” he whispers, and you’re feeling so far from that you barely recognize the word.
“Yes, Frankie,” you whisper back. He smiles and guides your fingers to his mouth, taking you first two inside and pressing his tongue up against them. The sensation is foreign, you being used to men wanting this the other way around, but Frankie’s skilled mouth sucks you in and swirls around your curious digits. You press against his tongue and his eyelids flutter, humming as you feel his jaw twitch against you.
He releases your fingers and drops back down to nose at your cunt.
“Touch yourself,” he asks, his hands tightening on your thighs and pulling them further apart. “Fuck, please touch yourself and let me watch.”
His words are making you lightheaded as you trail your wet fingers down to brush against your clit. You’ve passed over-sensitivity and your body melts into your familiar caress. You circle your clit in the practiced way you like, sliding down to wet your fingers further in your slick. Frankie moans, pressing a light kiss to your knuckles as you drag back up to tease yourself.
You set a soft but purposeful pace, dipping down for more of your arousal when the friction gets on the wrong side of pleasurable. Frankie pants and whispers out soft “fucks” with his eyes glued to your hand. He alternates between stroking your thighs and burying his face in them when watching you please yourself becomes too much to handle.
As you feel your body building the foundations for your second orgasm, Frankie moans and presses his face against your hand. You stop moving, feeling his lips ghost over your flesh.
“Don’t stop baby, please,” he begs, spurring you back on. “So fucking sexy,” he adds, and you feel his tongue teasing at your entrance before he presses it into you. The feeling makes your hand stutter as he pulses hard into you, wet and slippery and thick and delicious. His jaw is open wide, his upper lip and mustache tickling the tips of your fingers. It’s hot and lewd and intense as you feel your hips begin to roll down on his face. The open-mouthed chuckle he lets out makes you keen back at him.
“That good baby? You like it when I fuck you with my tongue?” His voice is muffled in your folds but no less sexy. “Want to feel you clench, get as deep inside you as I can, fuck, baby.”
You dig your other hand in his hair, the drive to fall into bliss again making your movements needier.
“Shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” you shoot back with a teasing smile. Frankie’s eyes snap up to you as he pushes back from your cunt with a lopsided smile.
“That was so fucking cute,” Frankie laughs, and for a moment you both just giggle into each other, Frankie shaking above you and you quivering below him. As you look up at him, broad chest framed by your knees, his hips still hidden by the edge of the bed, a flash of what he would look like fucking you fills your vision.
As quickly as it comes it’s dashed away as Frankie dives back into your cunt, a few huffed laughs still coming out of him. “Okay, enough teasing, let me finish you off. Hold yourself open for me,” he asks, and you spread your fingers to reveal your flushed clit to Frankie’s appreciative gaze. He licks his lips and begins flicking his tongue against it over and over, alternating between pointed circles and wide laps that have your nerves singing. He pauses the assault to lick up the length of your fingers, flitting his tongue against the webbing between them and sucking on your knuckles. It’s dirty and hot and makes your hips grind up for release.
Frankie finally pulls your hand away, settling between your legs and lifting his head up just enough so you can see his pink tongue disappearing into your folds. You whine, unable to tear your eyes away as he ramps you up higher and higher. Plunging your hands into his hair, he stretches his arms up to cup your breasts and caress your nipples with his thumbs.
“C’mon baby, use my face to get you off. Let me feel those hips fuck my tongue,” he pants, laying the broad flat of it against your cunt and applying the barest of pressures. By now your need is mounting, and you want to cum bad enough that you’d hump his flannel for release.
You begin rolling your hips against him, letting your body slide up and down his talented tongue over and over at the perfect angle. Your hands guide him, fingers scratching against his scalp and winding into his curls as you hold him in place. The texture is soft and damp at the roots where sweat is beading along his hairline. Fingers swipe and circle and squeeze at your breasts, sending sharp little pinpoints of pleasure to grow inside you. Frankie’s eyes are ravenous, flashing excitement and a lust that pitches you closer and closer until he slides forward and sucks your clit into his mouth.
The final bit of pressure releases and you crest your peak, feeling tears well in your eyes at the perfection of it. Frankie releases your clit and shoves his tongue into your spasming cunt, moaning wantonly so the vibrations prolong your pleasure. It feels like several minutes before your back falls to the mattress, limbs shaking with exhaustion and your chest heaving.
Frankie stays in your cunt, licking up the last of your cum before letting your legs fall back to the bed bonelessly. He wipes his mouth with his hand, removing the last vestiges of your pleasure as he strokes your legs. You urge yourself to look down at him and his smile is dazzling.
“That was fucking amazing baby, I knew you had it in you.” He’s almost giddy at your multiple orgasms, looking at you like a wonder of the world. You motion at him to come lay beside you, but hesitation flashes over his face.
“Let me go take care of myself in the bathroom first, then I’ll lie down,” he says a little sheepishly, moving to stand up. You prop yourself up on weak elbows, about to ask what he means when you see exactly what he’s referring to.
God, how have you not seen his fucking gorgeous cock before now? He flushes at your gawking but you can’t help it, it’s really a work of art. Beautifully dark and thick, nestled in curls that head to heavy balls hanging below. He’s pleasingly curved and girthy, and as he wraps his large hand around it you think you could cum again just looking at him.
“Let me just…jerk off so I have enough blood going to the right head,” he jokes, but you don’t smile. Instead you push yourself up on your knees, meeting Frankie at the end of the bed. His eyes are uncertain, the first hint of insecurity you’ve seen. You weave your fingers through his hair and while his hand doesn’t release his needy cock, his eyes shut as you touch him.
“Can I kiss you?” you ask, ghosting your fingers over his lips. It’s about damn time you knew how his mouth tastes. Frankie struggles for a moment, his hand tightening on his cock and a line forming between his brows, before he says, “Please.”
His mouth is like fire against yours, hot and overpowering in its hunger. He licks into you almost immediately, your flavor lingering on his tongue. His other hand comes up to cradle your head, and you’re enveloped in the lust he’s trying hard to keep under control.
“Why would you jerk off in the bathroom?” you ask, and between kisses Frankie tries to tell you.
“Not your…job to get me off…s'not a problem…just got me…so fucking turned on…”
You silence him with one more languid kiss, sucking on his tongue to elicit a moan, before parting.
“Did you bring condoms with you?” you ask, pressing a kiss to a bald spot along his jaw. Frankie’s breathing stutters.
“You didn’t want…”
“Please tell me you’re a well-prepared man,” you say, pulling away to look him dead in the eyes, “Because I want you to cum inside me.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Frankie repeats, capturing your mouth again and crushing you into his chest. “Yeah, I’ve got one in my wallet.” Frankie kisses like he wants to consume you, hands trying to pull you deeper into himself. “It’s not old, I promise,” he adds and you laugh against his temple.
“Please fuck me Frankie,” you purr and you feel his hips press against yours. His cock is hard and hot against your stomach, his head dragging precum against your skin. He buries his head in your shoulder and shakes it firmly.
“Not yet, need to get you open for me.” Frankie hurries his hand between your legs and drags his fingers through the soft wetness. You sigh as he teases you, then fills you with one of his beautifully thick fingers.
“Fuck, Frankie, that’s so good,” you breathe, and he hums against your skin.
“How long has it been since someone fucked you?” he says, sliding in and out of you before curling against a spot that makes your hips buck.
“Too long,” you tease, and he pulls his face from your shoulder to watch. His arm locks around your back, and you place both hands on those well-muscled shoulders to steady yourself.
“That is a damn crime,” he says, nipping at your chin when your head falls back at his skillful fingers. “I can barely tear myself away from this,” and he presses a second one into you. Your fingers tighten on his shoulders and he smiles sinfully. “That’s a good girl, taking me so well.”
You rock your hips against his hand, his fingers curling and sliding inside you. You feel tight around him and the press of his large cock against you warrants the warm-up. You’ve had a couple well-endowed lovers but none that cared to take the time Frankie is.
Suddenly a spike of panic and heat flashes over you.
“Frankie, what time…” you start to say, turning your head to find a clock. “Fuck, I didn’t even…”
Frankie chuckles and gently captures your lips.
“We have plenty of time baby.” His kiss is sweeter now, the fullness of his bottom lip caught between yours. “Stay here with me.”
Frankie takes another minute to work in a third finger, the stretch intense but guided by slick circles of his thumb against your clit. Your thighs have started to tremble, spread wide and held open to let Frankie’s large hand cup you. He can’t keep his mouth off of you, pressing it on any skin within reach. The span of his hand across your back grips you in near desperation, and when he removes his fingers you keen at the loss.
“Wait right here baby, I’ll be right back,” Frankie murmurs in your ear, hurrying to get his jeans from the bathroom floor. You get an excellent view of his tight ass and the softly sculpted planes of his back as you lean back on the bed.
With a few muttered curses and the clang of a belt buckle on tile Frankie returns, ripping the condom wrapper as he strides back up to the bed. He stops at the foot just long enough to roll it over his cock before climbing between your legs. Your arms go around his neck as he lifts you further up the bed, dropping you against the pillows. The casual strength makes you lightheaded.
“Baby, I have been on the edge this whole time so I’m going to try my best to last for you,” he pants and you stroke your hands down his back. He swallows hard and closes his eyes, his brow furrowing.
“Fuck, your hands feel good,” he bites out. He kneels between your legs, hands planted on either side of your hips and dragging his heavy gaze over the expanse of your body.
“Tell me what you like baby, I’ll fuck you any way you want,” he growls out, lust deepening the color of his eyes. His brows are heavy and pulled together, tongue resting on the droop of his lower lip. You try to think about how to start, where you want to go with this powerful man at your mercy.
“Sit up against the headboard, I want to start out riding you,” you manage, and Frankie's face breaks like a man who’s heard the voice of god. “I don’t need you to be gentle here. I like being fucked like you can’t get enough of it.”
Frankie moves to do exactly as you say, leaning back against the headboard and reaching his hands out.
“Good thing I already can’t get enough of you,” he says, and the sincerity in his face is too much. He’s been so accommodating and in tune with you that it makes the transactional nature of this moment rush to the forefront. You crawl up his legs and hover over his lap, unable to meet his eyes so instead turning them down to his twitching length. His hands come around your hips, firm and warm. You move to begin sinking down on him when he stops you.
“Hey.” The word is quiet, inquisitive. You look back up at the veil of concern on Frankie’s face. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” you say, letting your hands travel over Frankie’s broad chest and biceps.
“You sure? You looked a little faraway for a second there. Do you want to stop?” Fucking sweet Frankie with a cock that looks like it’s ready to detonate and he’s still checking in.
“Yeah, it’s just…you don’t have to do that. I’m completely satisfied with all of this, you don’t need to keep doing the...roleplay things,” you manage to get out. Frankie’s face is lost for a second, a flash of sadness before he schools his expressions into deference.
“Okay, fair enough. From here on out, you don’t want me to say things I’m not feeling. Correct?”
“Yeah, we can just, you know, have fun and forget about the…other stuff.”
Frankie nods and slides his hands up your sides, leaning close enough to graze his lips on the swell of your breast. “I can do that,” he rumbles, sliding his tongue over your nipple and sucking the soft flesh into his mouth. His hands begin urging you down to seat the head of his cock into your heat as he lavishes attention on your breasts. You gasp, lifting up slightly and then sliding back down in short strokes to tease him inside you.
“Fuck, that feels amazing,” Frankie punches out, his face screwed up in concentration as you work your way down his cock. He’s warmed you up perfectly and while he’s stretching you to your limits you are addicted to it. Frankie lets out a long whine as you take even more of him, his head dropping back to the headboard with a thud.
“That’s it, you’re so fucking tight. Fuck, I can’t fucking look at you or I’ll cum, beautiful girl stretched out on my cock. You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he huffs out, a dazzling smile on his lips.
You slow your descent down his cock with a teasing, “oh hush,” and he snaps his eyes to you, a feral energy crackling between you now. His hands grip your hips tight, teeth baring in a way you haven’t seen.
“Tell me I don’t mean it. Look me in the eyes and tell me I’m lying when I say you’re captivating.” Your mouth drops open as Frankie yanks your hips down, slamming himself deep inside you. You shout before dissolving into a moan as Frankie grinds you against him. “That I’ve been so close to cumming from just your fucking taste. I’m fucking worshiping this pussy and I haven’t spoken a goddamn lie since you walked in that door.” His hand grabs the flesh of your ass before dealing it a swat that goes straight to your clit. “Now fucking move or let me pound you into this mattress.”
You couldn’t deny him if you tried. You slam your hips against his earnestly, the burn in your hamstrings worth it to see Frankie falling apart under you. He watches you fucking yourself on him as long as he can, baring his teeth and urging you on with growled “yes’s” and “fucks” and “right there’s.” When he can’t take the intensity he tilts his face up to the ceiling, meeting your thrusts with his hips.
“Goddammit, please tell me you’re going to cum again. Fuck, I would do anything to feel you cum on me.” Frankie’s composure and control from before has sizzled off his skin, raw sensual energy in every movement. His hips deliver strong deep thrusts into you, occasionally tapping against spots that mix pain with your pleasure in an intoxicating cocktail.
“Never been…fucked like this before, Frankie. God, yeah, I think I’m gonna cum again,” you gasp out, an edge of incredulity to your voice. Frankie moans long and loud, a chuckle rounding out the sound.
“Fuck yes, baby, you’re so perfect. I’m so glad you’re letting me fuck you this good.” He pulls himself to your chest, tucking his head under your chin to let the heat of his breath tickle between your breasts. His arms wrap around you and he lifts you up and off his cock. Your arms go instinctively around his neck as he shuffles below you, moving onto his knees and sitting back on his heels. With coiled precision he slides you back down on his cock, settling you on his thick thighs. One hand pulls you down by your shoulder, the other pressed into your back as he begins snapping his hips into you. The changed angle and the power he has under you punches high-pitched moans out of you.
“Yeah baby, love hearing those sounds out of you. Your voice is so sexy, your laugh, all those filthy words, I’m…fuck, you feel too damn good.” Frankie pants, wincing as he tries to stave off his orgasm. You’re so close you slip your hand between the two of you, circling the base of his cock pumping in and out of you before stroking your clit fast and firm.
“Shit, shit, shit, that’s so fucking hot, fuck fuck fuck,” Frankie dissolves into a string of curses as you drag your orgasm close to the surface, eyes locking with his.
“Cum for me gorgeous boy,” you breathe out and Frankie’s frantic growl tips you over the edge just before he drops your body back on the bed, head buried in your shoulder as he pounds you into the mattress through your orgasm. It’s hard and hot and toe-curling as you sob out the aftershocks. Frankie’s own follows just as yours is beginning to subside, shouts followed by pained moans after each pump inside you.
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Felt like crying, so I came to you, my friend! Mc and Mammon went out shopping, specifically to buy gifts for his brothers, as an apology. When they get back home they are met with hostility. They berate Mammon until Mc screams at them to shut up, then rips into each of them for their treatment of Mammon. Then finishes with "Don't expect Mammon to stay here when he can live with me in the humanworld. I'm done with you. Mammon, lets go, you deserve better, love" and leaves w/ Mammon. Thank you!
You came to me because you felt like crying and that gives me two (2) things to think about. 1.) I'm apparently someone who people see as a tissue? 2.) My angst is just THAT good. Also! Apparently today is rain on Mammon day and I'm here for it not me avoiding my exam to write these things
Warning: uh.... Angst?
Soul-Searching (MAMMON X GN!READER ft. THE BROTHERS)
“You know, I’m proud of you for suggesting this.” Truly, you were. Mammon was your favorite and you felt for him, but you also completely understood where his brothers came from. At first, it honestly annoyed you as well; the constant stealing, the lying… You tried blaming it on his avatar, but even then it doesn’t explain the lying that comes with it. However, you do realize that it’s a habit and it’s a habit that is hard to fix, so instead of constantly getting onto him like the rest, you tried to understand him a bit more and give him some life advice. So far, you have managed to get Mammon to give back all the things he has recently taken from his brothers, and some of them even got an apology. You’ll be working on how to properly apologize, though, because oof, that was a mess.
And now? Now you managed to take a small trip with him downtown to at least attempt to make things better. Mammon is now, or at least today, using his own money to buy some things that his brothers would be fond of: a new vinyl player for Lucifer (non-cursed), a new Ruri-chan t-shirt for Leviathan, a neck pillow for Satan because lord knows he has some cramps back there with the way he leans over and down to read his books. Then some perfume for Asmodeus that he had been swooning about, a gift card to Beel’s favorite restaurant for the glutton, and a heated blanket for Belphie. You were proud, truly, that Mammon wanted to do this. As a matter of fact, he was the one who suggested it. “Maybe… uh.. I could… ya know… buy somethin’ they like” is what he said. You were just excited and agreed to help.
Now you were going back to the house with a few shopping bags and ice cream almost fully eaten. You paid for the ice cream, as a way to reward Mammon, and you’re sure he’s secretly thanking you for that because some of these items truly did burn a hole into his credit card, which is partially his fault. “Lucifer deserves more than some random vinyl player.” his words, not yours. Also “satan needs one of them neck pillows that massage it, too!” again, his words. So yeah, some money was definitely spent on these items, but… once again, you were proud. “I think they’ll love everything, Mam. They’d be fools if they didn’t.” Hearing you say that made Mammon feel a lot better, honestly, and a small rush of confidence came to the surface “Ya betcha they will! Nothin’ but the best from the Great Mammon!” You just laughed.
However, upon arrival, it was a different sight. As a matter of fact, you barely made it through the door before Beel was grumbling something about Mammon eating his custard, which is true, but it’s just a custard? “MAAMMMOONNN!!” and then there was Lucifer who appeared so fast you wondered if he was even real. He went on a whole rant about how irresponsible Mammon is and how another bill came in the mail that talks about Mammon’s debt. Satan and Belphegor teamed up to show empty hands, which left both you and Mammon confused, but then “do you see anything here? No? That’s because you sold our belongings, Mammon!” Mammon can be lucky that Leviathan was still holed up in his room because he just remembered that he also, at some point in the past, sold one of Levi’s figures. Asmodeus came last and honestly he wasn’t mad, he was just annoyed. “I saw you go through my things, Mammon. Nothing was taken, but it was still so incredibly rude!”
Next followed a screaming match which was basically just Mammon trying to defend himself, trying to show the bags and apologize, but none of them would have it. It irritated you. Yes, they had every right to be mad because personal belongings should stay with their owner(s), but at the same time, they didn’t even give Mammon a chance to explain, especially after he’s been holding the bags up and attempting to apologize. “You’re so stupid, Mammon” “StupidMammon” “so irresponsible. You know better than that. Do you need another time out session, Mammon?” “I can’t believe you’d go through my stuff again!” by now your eyes were twitching and the voices echoing off the walls surely didn’t help your case. One more word and you’d snap, surely, especially since Mammon’s hand is now shaking and you grabbing it did nothing at all. “We would be better off without you.”
Ah yes, there it is. The final straw. The amount of anger boiling inside you right now isn’t even manageable anymore and you’re surprised that Satan, as the Avatar of Wrath, has yet to notice it. “Shut up! Shut up, Shut up, Shut up! All of you!” You yanked Mammon behind you, almost protectively and Belphegor found the need to laugh at it. “Really? You’re going to protect him?” Oh, there. That’s your first victim. “Are you really that dense, Belphegor, or is sleep still clouding your brain cells? That is your brother you’re currently making fun of and I don’t know about you, but I was taught that family sticks together, blood related or by choice. So how about you get your head out of dreamland, take this stupid heated blanket that he bought for you, as an apology, and wake up for a second.” yes, you did throw the bag at him and then you pointed your finger at Beel. You’d regret later on that you’re tearing into him as well because Beel means well at the end of the day, but still, he was also part of this.
“You’re my least worry, Beel. Honestly you’re too caught up in your burgers and brawns to care for a second that your brother tries very hard to be liked by all of you. Sad, really.” you threw the card at him too. As a matter of fact, you threw all of the bags right in front of them. “And then Asmo.. oh my God, first of all, the world doesn’t revolve around you. Shocker, I know. If you were half as empathetic toward your family as you are obsessed with yourself, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to always go party and drink your life away. Oh, I’m sorry, did that hit just a little too hard? Can’t be harder than the hangovers you wake up with on a regular basis.” You glared at him before turning your attention to Satan. “Honestly, if you weren’t such a baby inside I may actually be scared of you. You always complain about how stupid he is, how he needs to just learn, but you? What do you do all day? You hole yourself up in your room and read about worlds that you wish you could enter. News flash: you’d die before you had the chance to say hello. People don’t like self-proclaimed assholes. Mammon IS smart. He’s very talented, too, but you’re too far up in Shakespeare’s ass that you fail to realize that everyone has knowledge in different fields of life. Give me a break.”
Satan was about to retort but you already moved on to Levi. “and you! Let’s be honest, if it weren’t for you wallowing in self-pity and fake depression, you would have absolutely no personality traits. What are you again? The Avatar of Envy? How about instead of being envious of others’ accomplishments, you actually start working on yourself. It’s truly pathetic that a couple millenia old demon’s only purpose in life is ramen and self inflicted emotional pain. Seriously, what are you? A pitiful loner? I can’t even begin to empathize with you in any way, shape, or form.” Your blood was boiling right now and maybe if they hadn’t attacked Mammon like they did, you would’ve felt bad about Levi’s sad face right now, but there was still one person left to deal with.”
“And you… beautiful, responsible, way-too-good-for-you older brother, Lucifer.” He’s been glaring at you this whole time, arms crossed over his chest but you stood your ground. You’re not quite sure how you managed, but you did. “You call yourself the best, the most responsible. You constantly say this family would fall apart without you, but that’s not it, is it? I think you’re just lonely. You force these six to be by you, to respect you and borderline worship you. Not because you deserve it…” you chuckled, shaking your head, “no. You’re just so sad that Daddy and Michael left you, mocked you, that you turned your sadness into anger and took it out on these six, but especially Mammon. Why? Because you see yourself in him. You call him your favorite brother, but it’s not because he actually is… he just reminds you of everything you used to be: fun, reckless, and feeling. Now you’re just cold, mean, and bitter. Don’t bother calling yourself the mighty first because without him you would be neither. Maybe if you pulled that stick out of your arse and actually tried to get to know your brothers, maybe you wouldn’t be so lonely all the time. Family, right? That’s what you want. How about you start acting like one.”
You shook your head after that, grabbing Mammon’s hand and kicking the bags in front of you before dragging Mammon back out the door. “Those are for you, by the way. Not that you deserve them, but they’re Mammon’s way of apologizing for all the things you accused him of the minute he set foot into the house. Have fun. We’re going to the castle and, if we’re lucky, to a real home.”
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me scenarios#mammon obey me#mammon#mammon avatar of greed#shall we date mammon#obey me mammon x reader#obey me mammon#asmodeus obey me#belphegor obey me#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me beelzebub#tw angst
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summary: as you begin dating both hyunjin and minho behind their backs, instead of happiness, guilt is the main emotion you’re experiencing. and just as you’re intending to come clean about your wrongdoings, karma has a funny way of biting you in the ass...
pairing: minho x reader x hyunjin
genre: high school!au, ANGST, romance, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers
warnings: swearing, two-timing, lying, secrets, a lot of guilt, confessions, shakespeare (cuz it’s me), pet names (e.g. babe, darling, sunshine), crying, yelling, car accident, hospital room, mentions of bullying, hyunho dark past revealed, the beginning of something new...
author’s note: the title is inspired by stray kids’s sorry, i love you; also have a felix cameo and remember that despite my current hyunho hyperfixation, he’s still my bias ☀️ oh, and some loona names thrown around just because
word count: 5.1k
part one: even a fool knows
part three: i wanna STAY with you
taglist: @changbinscypher ✨ @hyunjinslovelys ✨ @a-hyunjinshairband✨ @chaelinhhwang ✨ @qtieskz ✨ @lcvryu ✨
"Shall we go on three dates?" Hyunjin asked once he was done kissing you. Which, to your merit, lasted quite some time... "If things don't work out romantically, we'll just stay friends. If they do, we'll start being in a proper relationship. How does that sound?"
"Hyun, a million dates with you wouldn't be enough for me. I like you that much," you confessed openly, burying your head into his chest. "But whatever you wish, I'm all for it."
"Great! I'm so excited to take you out and-"
"However, I do have one condition," you said.
"Anything for you, sunshine," Hyunjin promised, trusting you blindly. God, you felt like such an asshole sometimes.
"Can we keep it on the low-low at school?"
"Are you embarrassed of me?" he feigned offense dramatically.
"Of course not! I'm just afraid a certain someone will get annoyed upon seeing our happiness and might start bullying you again," you lied.
Actually, you just didn't want Minho to know you were seeing Hyunjin. And vice versa. Maybe that made you a terrible person but you didn't want to end things with Minho. Even though you were fairly certain he had actually changed and wouldn't bully Hyunjin again. You had grown quite fond of Minho and couldn't possibly imagine calling it quits. Deep down, you knew it was wrong. But you liked them both quite a bit. And life without either of them seemed devoid of meaning.
"That's valid," Hyunjin agreed easily. "Besides, it's just a few months till graduation. Once we go to college, I'll be able to kiss you in front of the whole world."
Your heart melted at the fact he was already thinking long-term about you two. Could Minho say the same? And when the day of graduation arrived, would you have to end things with him? No, you shouldn't trouble yourself with such thoughts. There was still time to figure everything out.
"Where are we going on our first date?"
"Hm, how about the ice skating rink?"
"Sounds fun," you immediatel agreed. "But you should have in mind I'll fall a lot. For you."
Hyunjin rolled his eyes and giggled. Then, he pretended to call an invisible phone as a joke:
"911, we have an emergency. My girlfriend is super lame."
You nudged his arm playfully and couldn't stop your laughter from coming out. He made you genuinely happy. You didn't deserve him. But you couldn't imagine leaving Minho, either. Just when he was showing you a more sensitive, kind-hearted side...It would devastate him. And you instinctively knew he needed affection just as much as anyone else.
Your first date with Hyunjin was as fantastic as you'd expected it to be. Luckily, you didn't run into anyone from school. So, your secret was safe for now. You enjoyed playing on the ice with your boyfriend (fuck, you'd never grow tired of saying that word), holding his hand and wrapping a giant scarf around his beautiful neck. Every little moment with Hyunjin sparked so much joy that you were greedy for more. More little moments, more hand-holding and kissing. But there was a tiny voice at the back of your head telling you that you didn't deserve any of this. Maybe it was right. But you were too far gone to stop.
"Hey, babe, I haven't seen you in forever," Minho told you one night when he surprised you with one of his favourite drives to your place.
"Sorry, Min, I've been working on many assignments and college applications, you know how it is," you responded, only a half-lie. It was true you had been looking into colleges and having assignments, but your free time, you had been spending going on dates with Hyunjin. Needless to say, their number exceeded three. And you were planning on having many more in the future. "Did you miss me?" you teased.
"You know I did," he smiled sadly. "I thought you were avoiding me."
"Nooo, darling. I'm sorry it seemed that way. I'm going to spend more time with you from now on."
Homework and your future college be damned. Minho was one of your priorities right now and you needed to prove that you would be there for him.
"Promise?" he pouted and you couldn't believe this was the same guy who had once bullied your best- Scratch that, your boyfriend. Because Hyunjin was just that. What were you doing? If Minho found out, he'd be heart-broken. If Hyunjin found out, you were afraid this would be the end of, not only your relationship, but your entire friendship.
"Promise," you couldn't resist saying and wrapped your arms around Minho, trying not to think about Hyunjin while you were with Minho.
"I really like you, Y/N," he whispered, taking you aback. "I know I'm terrible at expressing my feelings but I thought you should know that."
"That's really sweet of you," you replied.
"You're not going to say it back?" Minho groaned.
"Nah, I still hate your guts," you joked. "Of course, I like you, too, Min. Would I be here if I didn't?"
"Sometimes I think you're still afraid I'd go back to my old ways and torment your best friend. I hope I'm not right."
God, why did he have to bring Hyunjin up right now? Just as you were trying to momentarily forget your overwhelming sense of guilt. You sighed and withdrew slightly so that you could look into his eyes.
"I'm not scared of you, Lee Minho," you insisted. "I'm here because I think you don't deserve to be alone."
"So...you pity me?" he frowned.
"I didn't say that."
"That's what I heard, though."
"Fuck, you can be really frustrating sometimes," you sighed. "I'm here because I want to be with you. Now, will you stop overthinking it so we can enjoy this beautiful night together?"
"Right, sorry," Minho nodded and pulled you into his arms once again. "This is the first time I've felt so happy and I just...can't help but worry I'll somehow mess it up. I didn't mean to make you upset."
"I'm not upset," you lied. That was becoming a habit. "I like making you happy. Please, don't ever doubt that." Ha! If anything, Minho had every right to doubt you. As you had done nothing but be dishonest.
"If I ever do something to upset you, please talk to me about it. I don't want this to end."
Lee Minho...wanting to communicate through potential issues. You would have teased him about it if your heart wasn't overflowing with pride.
"Noted. And the same goes for you. I would hate to hurt you, Min."
He smiled sweetly and caressed your hair.
"You could never."
Oh, how wrong he was.
As things were becoming more serious between you and Hyunjin, you were simultaneously becoming happier and feeling guiltier for having a thing with Minho behind Hyunjin's back. At the sime time, every second you were spending with Minho, your mind was troubled by how you were not only betraying Hyunjin's trust but also potentially doing something that could hurt Minho in a way you weren't sure it was possible to come back from. Just when he'd begun to trust you and open up more, you had gotten into a relationship with Hyunjin. Despite the increasing sense of guilt clouding your mind, you couldn't picture your life without either of these boys. Ending things with just one of them was bound to devastate you. The only thing that was giving you hope was that graduation was just around the corner. And once you went to college, chances were you'd continue seeing your best friend Hyunjin but it would be easier to ignore Minho. And as painful as that idea sounded, maybe it was for the best.
"Did you hear the threatre club's female lead got really sick?" Hyunjin told you one day. "They're looking for someone to step in. The play is in less than a month. Thought you'd be interested."
"Doesn't the theatre club have other girls?" you asked.
"Nah, Haseul, Jinsoul and Yves graduated last year so currently the theatre club only has boys. And Yeji, who got sick."
"I'm sorry for Yeji and the club having difficulties but my schedule is really packed, I'm afraid I don't have much time on my hands."
That was only partially true. You were usually quick at finishing your homework and you already had a sort of plan what you were going to do in college. You needed the rest of your free time to continue seeing Hyunjin and Minho without either of them finding out about the other...
"Please, just give it a try," Hyunjin insisted. "My friend Felix could really use some help."
You sighed. It was impossible to say no to your doting, precious boyfriend.
"What is the role in question?"
"Desdemona. Lix said they're doing Othello."
You almost laughed at the irony of it. Of course, poor Desdemona was perfectly innocent and wrongfully accused of cheating on Othello. Unlike you. It would be such a cruel twist of fate if the theatre club actually accepted you to act as Desdemona. Yet again, you had to remind yourself no one knew. It could be fun. Maybe you'd even learn a lesson or two in the preparation for the role.
"When are they having rehearsals?"
"Everyday after classes," Hyunjin informed you. "I'll understand if you have less time to go out with me, by the way. Just take this chance. Not only will you help my friend but the experience could also be useful for your college application essay, right?"
"Sure, it sounds like a great idea."
"Awesome! I'll text Felix to tell him you're in."
You gave Hyunjin a half-hearted smile.
After classes, you showed up at rehearsals and were surprised to find out how easy it was for you to memorize lines. After all, you were quite bookish and you'd read Othello before. It was also tragically ironic how easy you found it to get into character. Despite Desdemona's blameless nature, you were doing a great job as an actress, according to Felix. Maybe because you had been doing nothing but lie to those dearest to you in the recent past. And were only planning to continue doing so.
As the official performance of the play was approaching, you were growing more confident in your abilities and less confident in whether you deserved so much happiness and attention. Soon enough, you got your answer.
You were sitting in Minho's car one night, his late drives to your place were becoming a regular thing. It was strange...in the dark, you felt perfectly safe and comfortable.
"My friend Felix told me you landed female lead in the school's play," Minho said casually.
"You know Felix from theatre club?" you were surprised to find out Hyunjin and Minho had a common friend. Other than you. Well...you weren't strictly their friend.
"Of course, I know him," Minho shrugged. "We go to dance club together."
That was beyond strange. You'd heard Hyunjin telling you he also knew Felix from dance club. Did that mean...No fucking way. Did Minho and Hyunjin attend the same dance club? Could it be connected with why Minho used to bully Hyunjin? Was there some drama between them you had no clue about? Apparently, you were not the only one keeping secrets...
"Is this...the same club Hyunjin goes to?" you were too curious and couldn't resist the temptation of asking.
"I'm surprised he hasn't told you," Minho scoffed, but quickly changed the subject. You decided not to press him further for fear of making him angry or suspicious.
"Anyways, I was wondering if...you wanted me to come watch you at the play thing. I won't approach you in front of your friends, you don't need to worry about me embarrassing you."
"Min..." you mumbled, feeling touched by his consideration. And simultaneously, guiltier than ever. "You're not embarrassing me, I just don't want to make anyone upset. And of course, I'd love it if you came. But only if you want to, don't feel pressured."
"I'm not. It would make me so happy to watch my talented girl on the stage," Minho insisted. God, it was breaking your heart how much you were on the verge of breaking his, without him realizing.
You squeezed him into a tight hug and kissed his cheek.
"What would I do without you?" you exclaimed.
"Aren't I the most supportive boyfriend in the universe?"
You immediately froze into place. This was the first time Minho had referred to himself as you boyfriend. It was devastating he didn't know you already had another boyfriend. It was devastating you were lying to them both. After the play, you would finally come clean. You could no longer live with such guilt. Hyunjin and Minho deserved better than that. After the play, you would tell them the truth. If they chose to leave you, you would completely understand. It would be better for you to be alone than continue to play with their feelings and do something so unfair towards them behind their back.
"You are," you couldn't help yourself from agreeing. "I'm the luckiest girl."
And you meant every word.
The day of the play finally arrived and it went well. You didn't mess up anything and the audience was clapping a lot. Hyunjin's friend Felix was playing Othello and near the end of the performance, he had to "smother" you with a pillow. Honestly, if you weren't constantly preoccupied with the promise you'd made to yourself to tell Hyunjin and Minho everything after the play, you would have had so much fun. But you were anxiously preparing yourself for the conversation, so in your head, the whole play went by in the blink of an eye. As you were leaving the stage, you spotted Hyunjin nearby. He hurried towards you excitedly, giving you a wonderful bouquet of flowers and enveloping you in a hug.
"You were amazing out there!" he praised you.
You hugged him back, naturally, there was nothing suspicious about two friends embracing. But then, Hyunjin seemed so caught up in the moment, that he seemed to forget his promise he would keep things between you on the low-low at school. That he did the one thing he shouldn't have done. He kissed you. And you did the one thing you couldn't come back from. Kissed him back.
Once you opened your eyes, you noticed Minho a couple of metres away. But it was too late. He had already seen everything. You blinked in surpise and slowly withdrew from Hyunjin. Minho was speeding towards you two like a feral cat. Before you could open your mouth to explain, Minho had grabbed your hand and Hyunjin's, pulling you out of the theatre hall and into the corridor.
"We need to talk. Now."
"What's going on?" Hyunjin looked immensely worried as his former bully dragged him after him.
You knew that trying to reassure him would be pointless. Your secret was already halfway out and it was only a matter of time before the whole of it came out to the surface. Once in the corridor, Minho yelled:
"What the fuck did I just see?"
"I can't even date in peace without you interferring?" Hyunjin was in disbelief.
"And you had to pick her?" Minho groaned in frustration.
"What's that to you?" Hyunjin scoffed, still having no idea.
You were sobbing uncontrollably, overwhelmed by everything that was happening. Minho turned his anger towards you instead of Hyunjin.
"Tell him. Tell him or I will."
You shook your head, unable to utter a word.
"Your sweet little girlfriend has been fucking me," Minho hissed at Hyunjin. "Did you honestly think I stopped bullying you out of the sheer kindness of my heart? We had an agreement."
Hyunjin took a hesitant step backwards.
"Tell me it isn't true. Tell me he's just lying to mess with me."
You couldn't possibly deny it. So, you just kept crying.
"No," Hyunjin found it impossible. "What the fuck, Y/N?"
"I was going to tell you,"
"When? When we graduated? When we got married?" Hyunjin and it broke you that he had been thinking that far into the future.
"After the play," you murmured dumbly. "I swear, I was going to come clean. But then, you kissed me and Minho saw and-"
"What difference does it make whether you were going to tell us or not?" Hyunjin cried out.
You tried to reach out for him and hold his hand in a desperate attempt to explain how you felt for both of them and why you did what you did, but Hyunjin pushed you away, running down the corridor and out of the building. You collapsed on the ground as your sobs only became more inconsolable. You were surprised when you felt a pair of arms holding you tightly, as Minho caressed your hair and tried to comfort you.
"I understand why you lied to me. You liked us both too much to end things with either one of us, didn't you?"
You nodded and kept crying.
"Minho..."
"Shh, I'm right here, babe," he kissed the top of your head gently. "But if you ever lie to me again, we're over. Am I clear?"
"You...you don't want to break up with me?" you asked in shock.
"Not when I still believe what we have is worth fighting for. I'll try to talk to Hyunjin, okay? Maybe he'll come around."
"I'm not sure he'll want to talk to you but I would appreciate it. He probably would rather see you than me right now," you sighed.
"Everything will be fine," Minho reassured you, confident in his ability to magically fix things.
"Be careful, alright?"
He promised you he would be and went down to the corridor to catch up with Hyunjin.
Minho's POV
I really wanted to help her make everything work. Even though she lied to me and began dating Hyunjin behind my back. I was surprised at myself. After the initial anger subsided, all that I could think about was how devastating it was so watch her cry. Yes, maybe, she was a little greedy for wanting to have the two of us at the same time. Maybe, it was unfair of her to keep it a secret. But I could get behind her reasoning. Was it so wrong that she liked me so much she even lied to her best friend? And if she believed I could change and do better, be a nicer person, then, the least I could do for her was try and talk to Hyunjin. After all, he was in a similar position. He, too, had been cheated on. I thought we would find common ground. And maybe, if he tried to view things from her perspective, as well...To try and understand she just cared for us both. A lot. And she hadn't hurt us on purpose. Maybe it was worth trying to save this.
As I was walking home, I spotted Hyunjin crossing the street. But he must have been too upset to find out I had a thing with Y/N to see the approaching car. He was too slow. And the vehicle was too fast. Fucking dumbass. Without thinking of the consequences, I jumped into the street, pushing Hyunjin out of the way. But before I could find the time to get out of here myself, I realized my legs were frozen. It was too late. The last thing I saw were the car's lights...
Hyunjin's POV
I was alive. I had been seconds away from getting hit by a car and then, someone pushed me out of the way. And I was alive. Wait. Where was that someone? Fuck...No, no, no, no.
It hadn't been just someone. It was Minho. As I held his lifeless body in my arms, my brain refused to work for a couple of seconds. I couldn't believe he had done this. For me. No, that wasn't important right now. I had to do something. I hurriedly pulled my phone from the pocket of my jeans and called an ambulance. Soon enough, the medics arrived and without thinking, I went into the vehicle with him. Despite our complicated history, I couldn't just leave him there alone right after he'd saved my miserable life.
As the ambulance was parking in front of the hospital and the medics were carrying Minho to the operation room, I realized I had to tell her. Regardless of our recent fight. I couldn't believe it was less than an hour ago. It didn't matter anymore.
"Y/N...you have to come to the hospital on 9 Street," I told her directly.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?" she asked.
"I'm fine but...Minho...he...just come, please," I said and hung up. I didn't have the energy to explain this over the phone and didn't have the heart to tell her it was my fault he got hurt. If I hadn't been so reckless, if I had watched where I was going, he wouldn't have jumped out to save me. I just had to pray he would survive this. If he didn't, I would never be able to forgive myself.
Reader's POV
"Felix, could you drive me to the hospital on 9 Street?" you were panicking. You had no car and no idea how to get there and the first thing that came to your mind was the fact Felix was nearby and had probably come to the theatre with his own vehicle.
"Sure, let's go right now," your friend and co-star immediately said he would help. "Is it a family thing?"
You shook your head.
"Is Hyunjin alright?"
"I think so."
"Did someone get hurt?"
"Minho...he...I'm not sure what's wrong myself," you sighed. "Hyunjin told me to get there and he implied something happened to Minho."
Felix nodded in a strange way that led you to believe perhaps he knew about something (other than you) that connected Hyunjin and Minho. Something you didn't know. Some sort of falling out, perhaps? You were once again reminded of the fact the three of them were in same dance club together. You desperately wanted to get to bottom of this mystery. But first, you had to make sure Minho was okay.
"Listen..." Felix started. "When I was changing out of my costume, I overheard the three of you in the corridor."
"Oh, great, now everyone knows I'm a lying, cheating bitch," you replied sarcastically.
"Hey, no judgment here. Hyunjin seemed pretty pissed off out there but I’m sure he'll come around eventually."
"Minho said something similar, actually," you smiled sadly. "He followed him because he wanted to talk to him."
"Typical Minho," Felix chuckled thoughtfully.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
You had no idea that someone other than you viewed Minho in such a positive light. It made you happy, in a sense. But also, it made you confused as to how Felix knew Minho so well.
"It's not my story to tell," Felix grinned mysteriously and parked the car abruptly. "We're here. Do you want me to come with or...?"
"I think I'll be fine. Thanks for the ride. You should get home and have some rest. By the way, I never got to tell you that you were outstanding today, Othello."
Felix waved you off humbly.
"Go get your men, Desdemona," he joked. "And give me a call if you need anything."
"Thank you, Felix. It really means the world to me," you spoke sincerely and hurried into the hospital.
Once you got inside and asked the nurses what room Minho was in, they told you he was currently being operated and you had to wait for a while. You were on the verge of a mental breakdown but you told yourself you had to be strong for him. Luckily, you found Hyunjin in the corridor, also eager for a time when the doctors would have more information on Minho's well-being.
"What happened?" you asked Hyunjin and upon seeing his pitiful expression, just went ahead and hugged him. You were surprised he didn't reject your affection and let you embrace him. Stroking his long hair, you couldn't do much but wait for him to speak.
"I didn't see the car. Minho...he came out of nowhere and pushed me out of the way. It...hit him instead. It's all my fault."
"Don't say that," you cried out. "If anything, it's my fault for lying to you both. You must have been so upset you didn't even realize you were crossing the street. All because of me."
"It's no good if we blame ourselves, though," Hyunjin pointed out. "When Minho is the one suffering the most."
"You're right," you sighed. "All we can do now is wait and be there for him when he wakes up."
You couldn't fathom the thought of it being an if. It had to be a when. He had to wake up.
Time went by and eventually, you were sitting in a hospital room next to an unconscious Minho lying in his bed. Hyunjin and you cried quite a bit upon seeing Minho but at one point, your tears dried up and you started talking to Minho. You weren't sure if he could hear but you had to try.
"Please, Min, wake up. There are so many things I haven't told you yet. Please, I need you," you kept saying.
"I can't believe you would risk your life to save mine. Fucking dickhead," Hyunjin teased but his words contained no venom. "You know how much I hate feeling indebted to someone. You gotta wake up and tell me what I can do to repay you."
"If you really want to thank me for saving your sorry ass, you should give her a second chance," Minho whispered weakly.
"Minho!" you exclaimed happily, gripping his hand tightly, but not too tight to hurt him, as you were trying to be considerate of the fact he had recently been in a car accident.
Hyunjin, on the other hand, was not capable of self-restraint and straight-up hugged Minho.
"I'll even give you a second chance if you want me to!"
"Ouch, that hurts," Minho complained a tad bit too dramatically.
"Sorry, sorry," Hyunjin immediately let go of him.
"Y/N, tell Hyunjin what we talked about before I ran after him," Minho suggested.
"It doesn't matter, I already said I'd give her a second chance, didn't I?" Hyunjin repeated.
"It does matter. Just hear her out, okay?"
"I just...You both mean too much to me and I didn't tell you the truth earlier because I didn't want lose either of you. I like...no, I'm sorry but I love you. You two are too pretty to be just friends. And you’re also kind and talented and supportive. And I know that by lying to you, I risked losing both of you. But now that you know how I feel, I can only hope, no, pray that you would still want to be in my life."
"I get that now," Hyunjin admitted and gave your hand a heartfelt squeeze. "And like I said, I'm willing to put this behind us."
"Same here," Minho reasserted his intention, cutely smiling at you and Hyunjin.
"What I still don't get," Hyunjin continued speaking, turning to Minho, "is why you used to bully me in the first place. We were such good friends, what happened?"
They were? Was this connected to your suspicions about the dance club drama? Was that the thing Felix had labelled as "it's not my story to tell"?
"You don't remember?" Minho blinked in surprise.
"Honestly, I have no idea."
"We're here anyways and by the looks of it, I'm not getting out soon, so I might as well enlighten you," Minho conceded.
Finally! You had been dying to know what went down between these two.
"The year I came to our high school, one of the first extracurricular activities I signed up for was the dance club. Hyunjin and I hit it off immediately, we had a lot in common. One afternoon, we came up with this really cool choreo together and the teacher loved it. He gave me the center position and I was so overjoyed and excited for our first competition that I practised every moment I wasn't in class. Day and night, rehearsal after rehearsal. Until one evening I hurt my leg pretty badly. The competition was the following day. So, who could possibly replace me in such short notice but the other guy who'd come up with this amazing choreo? Hyunjin. And I was fine with that, I really was. After all, Hyunjin reassured me it was just a temporary thing. And I'd be back on my feet before I know it. And indeed, soon after the competition, I was completely healthy. So imagine my surprise when one day I overheard the teacher asking Hyunjin if he wanted to be the center for all the upcoming performances, as well. Even though my leg was alright, the teacher said Hyunjin fit the center position and the whole concept of the dance team better than I ever could. And Hyunjin agreed to do it. Fuck, I felt so betrayed back then. I used to think it was so selfish to discard me like that. But my passion for dancing was too strong and I put up with seeing Hyunjin's face every goddamn day. But outside of the dancing hall, I had to do something to let out my frustrations. And...well, you know the rest."
"My God, Minho, I didn't know you heard that. To be honest, I only agreed with the teacher because at the time you didn't seem that interested in the center position. If I had any idea how important it was to you, I would have stepped out. I would have talked to the teacher or something. I'm really sorry, Minho...For what it's worth, I think you're the most talented dancer out there."
Minho smiled gratefully and gave Hyunjin an understanding nod.
"Well, what's past is past. I'm glad we can open a new page."
"For Y/N's sake?" Hyunjin asked.
"And for each other's," Minho replied meaningfully and even winked at Hyunjin!
"Hello, I'm still here, Romeo and Julio," you teased them.
"Oh, get over it, Desdemona," Hyunjin chuckled.
"Hey! Did you even get the meaning of the play? Desdemona was innocence personified. Unlike me."
"Truly, you're the villain of our story," Minho joked.
"Not the point but whatever," you rolled your eyes. "If Othello hadn't been a jealous prick, poor Desdy would have still been alive! Ah, the tragedy of it all."
"I gotta admit, Felix made Othello seem kinda...fluffy," Hyunjin observed.
"I know, right?" Minho exclaimed. "Even when he was smothering our girl with that pillow, I was like...wait, are they cuddling?"
"Totally," Hyunjin shared his view.
And despite you being the object of ridicule, there was nothing that brought you more joy than your loved ones finally agreeing on something.
To be continued...
#stray kids#hyunjin#hyunjin x reader#lee know#lee know x reader#hyunjin angst#lee know angst#stray kids angst#hwang hyunjin#lee minho#hyunho#writing
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SHE’S SO BROKEN INSIDE -- C - R - A - Z - Y !!
a reboot of my sentence starters for crazy ex girlfriend season 1 please change any pronouns/words to make it more applicable for your usage! some mature themes apply!
“This is what Happy feels like. This is what I’m supposed to feel like.”
“Why aren’t you happy?!”
“You didn’t even break skin and you inconvenienced a lot of people.”
“Remember you said that if I was in the neighborhood I should give you a buzz? Well… BUZZ!”
“I’m taking a few of these until my business cards come in, just so if anyone asks why I’m here, I can say ‘It’s for work! It’s legitimate!.”
“Because you’re pretty and you’re smart and you’re ignoring me so you’re obviously my type.”
“I’m not good for much but I do know it’s not right to hook up with a crying girl.”
“You half Italian? I can always tell.”
“He should be a search term on porn sites.”
“He made me feel warm inside— like glitter was exploding inside me.”
“I’m not in love. That would be stupid.”
“I’m crazy and I’m irrational and I’m everything my mother ever said I was.”
“If we play this right, it’s gonna hit him like a bag of nails to the balls.”
“Could we have a postmortem on the whole make out-crying situation?”
“Bras are in aisle one.”
“I’m going to gracefully exeunt and be chased….by a bear.”
“Maybe I will throw my saddle on that filly and take her for a ride around the paddock. ...Wow. Men are disgusting.”
“They spread a rumor that I slept with the English teacher! Which was totally a lie because we only did hand stuff!”
“Of course we’re friends because what other agenda could I possibly have?”
“I want to cut the silky hair right off your head and slurp it up like spaghetti.”
“We were just being cute! Cute kissing! For attention!”
“I can’t be friends with women. Everyone wants to have sex with me!”
“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that telling the truth from the beginning was probably the right option.”
“Luna bars are for women. I think they have menstrual blood in them or something.”
“A true friend loves you no matter what, even if your downward dog is horrible.”
“Now, if someone pulls a gun on me, I pull out my knife!”
“Come sit on my lap like I’m Santa and listen to me—”
“Put those things away, you’re going to poke a kid’s eye out.”
“I don’t leave when there’s whiskey left.”
“It was weird and sad and kinda beautiful in a pure and unironic way.”
“You’re really starting to fit in here. That’s not a compliment.”
“She’s seriously ‘bonker balls’.”
“The last thing you need right now is a conversation with a pathological narcissist!”
“How are you? UTIs under control?”
“Hey, don’t skate sad!”
“Let’s leave the children outta here for a sec.”
“Shut up, I love that fire! It’s my favorite fire!”
“How could a guy with a man bun know what’s authentic?!”
“You took some guy home from our date and SLEPT with him? What’s WRONG with you?!”
“I make no sense and you shouldn’t waste your time on me, can’t you see that?”
“I have an IQ of 164. On the entire SAT, I only got two questions wrong and in subsequent years, those questions were removed for being misleading.”
“You are a good person. He is a good person. …. We are good person.”
“What do you want me to say, people? That she doesn’t have the softest hair? And that I don’t watch her while she sleeps? Because I do! She’s an Angel.”
“She had flyaways! I can’t have her walking around like that.”
“You know I want to turn you in so much, because you’re an actual piece of human garbage.”
“Can I get a free beer? I’m down like $10,000.”
“My parents are alive. They’re just frigid and unloving.”
“Parents love brown nosers but men? Men love a woman who looks like me.”
“Chicken soup is just gross, hot, fat water.”
“I got a tongue scraper! Things are looking hhhhhhhexcellent.”
“Look at you, old man. You loooose! You have tubes in your face!”
“You promised me a drink and I got tired of waiting.”
“It was like Pearl Harbor meets the movie Pearl Harbor.”
“Why does Netflix always want me to watch Leaving Las Vegas? Is it trying to tell me something?”
“That basset hound could benefit from a juice cleanse.”
“Twilight is only the greatest love story since Shakespeare… in Love!”
“I needed that sage to cleanse the house of evil spirits. Ghosts are obsessed with me.”
“Do I really need to tell you to not take a pill from off the bathroom floor?!”
“I’m not going to listen to you. You talk silly.”
“I’m half of him so I am half of what you hate!”
“I’m glad you stood up to me because when the Cossack’s come, I know you’ll survive!”
“I want to melt into the chair like a butter lady.”
“Get realsies with me or I’m outskies.”
“Thanks for showing my boyfriend your cervix.”
“Charm and wit is a weird name for your boobs.”
“Where am I? Who am I? Am I in the Matrix? Am I Neo?”
“If you can’t even send me a whole word, then I’m not taking my clothes off for you. At least send an emoji. A chipmunk eating a block of cheese. I get that. I’m coming over.”
“Be the boat. Don’t be the hole. Nobody likes the hole.”
“Oh, you know what people say. One person’s blackmail is another person’s love story.”
“Okay, you can sleep at the foot of my bed tonight. Like a dog. …. Please don’t look so excited.”
“Oh, I don’t like her. She looks like she orders everything on the side.”
“He looks like a Kennedy. But a sober one.”
“What’s a pretty, showered girl like you doing here?”
“I think my life is a giant turd.”
“Why doesn’t he love me? Why doesn’t anyone love me? Why am I so alone?”
“I don’t want to say I don’t like anyone as much as you … but I just said it.”
“Love does not last in my life. I’m loveless.”
“I want to haunt Hitler and make him rethink a few things.”
“She’s not just a kid! She’s your daughter, you ass!”
“Oh, come on! Let’s make bad decisions together! We could run into traffic!”
“I’m not a sourpuss. I’m pensive and deep.”
“Are we being pleasant now? Sorry. I don’t know your rules.”
“He has the flat top of a Greek God.”
“If it were any other situation, I would take off my heels, my earrings and my extensions and curb stomp you.”
“Chasing someone who isn’t into you is a terrible move.”
“You have been Single White Female-ing me since you got here.”
“I have, like, the smartest face here.”
“Boo work and life and clothing.”
“You need to realize that ‘U up?’ is text speak for ‘are you horny?’.”
“You gotta force love, everyone knows that.”
“You weirdo face, put me down!”
“You just scooped me up like a basket of muffins…— PUT ME DOWN!”
“Why is he always talking about his theater major?! I know a lot of theater majors! They don’t talk about it! They just are!”
“I appreciate you Schwarzenegger-ing out back there.”
#sentence meme#sentence starter#crazy ex girlfriend#I PICKED AND CHOSE SOME NEW QUOTES#i just#yeah i hope this is better
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That post about Edward not really loving Bella is amazing! I would love to hear more of your thoughts on their relationship. Maybe one day also an analysis on how Bella doesn’t really love Edward but the ideal of him she created in her head.
(Anon refers to this post)
Well, you just said it yourself, Bella’s in love with an ideal. But I’ll happily give you more words, because it’s a very particular ideal.
My thoughts on the relationship are really a post of their own, so I’ll just say that I think it’s a disaster and Bella is his prey, not his lover.
Also, once again I must link this meta because it is so good at explaining why Bella goes for Edward the way she does. And I’ll just link this post as well because Bella’s view of everything is fundamentally skewed. Vampires, the Cullens, and Edward, she sees it all through rose tinted glasses.
So, what gets Bella interested in Edward in the first place? At first, he was just the creepy ass from Biology who really hated her. A beautiful one, but still an ass.
Still, she was very attracted to him, and intrigued by the mysterious Edward Cullen who doesn’t talk to anybody. And so, when he initiates conversation she’s down for that.
What happens next is that this girl who has the lowest self esteem, who believes herself to be the least interesting little mouse on the planet, is suddenly lavished with attention by the guy she’s lowkey crushing on. There’s nothing, ranging from her favorite books and why she likes them, to her relationship with her mother, that doesn’t interest Edward.
Now, anyone would love to be center of attention from a hottie like Edward. But it means more to Bella than it would to most.
Bella doesn’t value herself, and so, when Edward starts doing it for her, she lets him. She lets him make her his invaluable human, the Juliet to his Romeo. She becomes entirely wrapped up in their romance because by Edward’s side she’s worth something.
(It’s telling that she later tries to repeat this with Jacob - Bella can’t build herself up on her own, she needs someone else to do it for her. Our girl may be a Feminist™ who writes essays about misogyny in Shakespeare, but she doesn’t actually understand female liberation and she’s light years away from realizing it. If she did, she wouldn’t need a man to give her value.)
As for why she latches on to Edward the way she does, and what about him she loves - it’s the vampirism.
The attributes Bella notices about him, and grows to love and know about him, are his inhuman attributes. His impossibly beautiful face, that perfect skin, those golden eyes, his hypnotic voice, his scent, his grace, his sparkle, his strength and speed. Loving Edward for these things is so obvious that Bella never really looks for other reasons.
(It’s almost poetic, that they love each other for the things the other hates most about themselves. Except the similarity is slim, at best. Edward is a predator, and Bella a neglected teen who got into a relationship for the wrong reasons, and now is stuck with the consequences.)
Bella wants to be worth something, she wants to love and be loved, and this angelic boy who can offer her a better world offers it all. Of course she’ll take it. (Yes, I was tempted to make a Persephone reference. No, I didn’t.)
#this one took forever and i'm sorry#bella#edward#edward/bella#twilight meta#twilight renaissance#twilight#Anonymous#ask
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Helpless (Greg Gerwitz x Reader)
Word Count: 1,486
Pairing: Greg Gerwitz aka Mouse x Reader
Summary: You come up with the idea to surprise your boyfriend Greg at work with lunch, but end up almost losing your life.
Warnings: swears, guns.
A/N: This is funny to me because I’ve been binging Chicago Fire but am writing Chicago PD imagines lol.
ALSO check out the origin story of this cute couple :)
Today was your day off, and you were itching to spend some of it with your boyfriend.
You have been dating Greg, or Mouse as pretty much everyone else calls him, for 7 months now. You met through your friend Kim Burgess who worked at the same district as Mouse who was tech support for the Intelligence unit there. At first, you were doubtful of your friend’s choice for you; someone cool and smart enough to be able to work with an elite team of the Chicago PD was probably way out of your league, you a librarian at Chicago Public Library.
But when she tricked you into meeting him at the bar Molly’s, and Greg panicked after seeing how beautiful you were (he’ll never actually admit that to your face) and started rambling about Shakespeare mixed with the Blackhawks win the night before, you knew this awkward goofball was exactly your type. You eventually called him down enough to talk more about the hockey team and ended up agreeing to a date at the next game later that week. Seven months later and you were in love with the techie. But have yet to tell him.
It might seem like a long time to go without saying it (based on society’s standards), but you were in a bad relationship a year before meeting Greg who cheated on you repeatedly and tried to buy you back by saying they loved you. After you finally left them, you were always wary about using those words in the next relationship you would enter. And you had told Greg that much when it looked like your relationship with him was progressing into long term. And Greg was immediately cool with that, him telling you about his PTSD and how he might need some time in that department as well.
Today, you were getting bored lying around in your apartment on your day off, and Greg was popping up into your mind consistently. You two had talked a couple of days ago and texted the day before, but you haven’t seen him it what seemed like 2 weeks and missed his face. Just the thought of his smile sent your heart into a flutter, something thats been happening more often these last few weeks since you realized you were full-on in love with Greg Gerwitz. It was almost 11 when you finally made the decision to grab some lunch for you and Greg and surprise him at work.
So you got dressed in this nice summer dress with flowers you had bought a month ago, threw on a pair of sandals, then headed out to the Portillo’s that your apartment was near; grabbing a burger and fries for Greg and some pasta for yourself. Then you were off to the 21st District, the June weather in Chicago just starting to get warm after its normal harsh winter. When you got to the district, you walked up the stairs to the reception area, eyes catching Sargent Platt at her desk. Turning a little more towards the stairs that led to the Intelligence unit, you were surprised to see Greg standing there with Sargent Voight and Jay, Greg’s best friend.
They seemed to be talking to a couple, a hulking man with a bald head and a sleeveless jean jacket (almost resembling a biker) and a women with frizzy red hair and a leather jacket. You walked a little closer, not wanting to disturb their conversation, but saw Greg look up and catch you standing there. He smiled and for a second there, you had a little trouble breathing from the joy radiating off him. You were too caught up in Greg that you didn’t realize that the conversation happening in front of you had turned sour, not until you heard a growled, “Screw this.”
Suddenly, you had an arm wrapped around your neck and something metal pushed against your temple. You dropped the food bag in shock as you were dragged to be pressed against someone’s chest. Finally you’re brain caught up to what was happening and saw the red headed woman pointing two guns; one at Sargent Voight and and the other to the other side of the room where patrolmen were already drawing their weapons. Your eyes quickly found Greg, who was being held back by Jay, struggling to try and get to you.
“Nobody move!! Or this bitch gets a bullet to the brain!” The person, you assumed the bald guy, yelled as there was a clicking sound right by your ear. “Don’t try anything, or your dead.”
“Let her go, Farias.” Sargent Voight yelled, the metal of the gun pressing further into your temple. “You’re surrounded by cops, is this the way you want to go down?”
“Greg..” You said, looking at your boyfriend as Jay continued to hold him back. Tears started filling your eyes, panic setting in as the situation continued.
“Just get me my money you took, and then I’ll let her go.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Then the girl dies! You want that on your conscience?!” The woman yelled, looking back to Voight before switching to the other side of the room.
Greg looked at you, helpless with a gun to your head, and nothing he could to get you safe. His eyes started to water, No, no, no. Not like this. “Jay, come on, man. I got to do something.”
“What will happen if you run into this is you’ll get her killed and most likely die in the process. Let Voight take care of this.”
“You got ten seconds, and if you don’t start moving your ass, she dies!” The man yelled, pushing the gun harder into the side of your head. But before he could start counting down, you could feel the guy start to spasm, the gun moving from your head until it clattered to the floor, and the guy fell, letting you go. You turned, and behind you was Kim with a taser in her hand.
“Hey!”
There was a scuffle behind you and you saw Adam Ruzek and Kevin Atwater, tackling the woman to the ground and tossing her guns away from her as she was handcuffed. It all happened so fast that you just stood there, not knowing what to do. Then you heard your name being called, and you looked up to see Greg finally out of Jay’s hold on him and running towards you. You’re eyes started to water again, now with relief, as Greg finally got to you and scooped you up into his arms. Your arms circled his neck as you hugged him tightly, him doing the same. “Hey, I got you. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
“Greg.” You whimpered, trying to tighten you hold more, just to feel more of him as your body shook from subsiding adrenaline.
“I got you. Are you okay?” He quickly pulled away to cup your face, his eyes moving all over you checking for injuries.
“I-I think so.”
“What are you doing here?”
You sniffled as you tried to breath deeply, your mind bouncing all over the place, “I just wanted to surprise you with lunch, I-I missed you and-and I’m sorry I should have called before or-”
“Y/N, you had no idea this was gonna happen. This is supposed to be a safe place, so you don’t need to apologize.” Greg said, smiling as his thumbs brushed away the last of your tears. He squished you face for a second before kissing your forehead, “God, I love you so much.”
“What?”
Greg smiled, and lowered his head a little before repeating, “I love you. So. Much. And I almost lost the chance to tell you.”
You smiled as your eyes started to water once again, “God, today is just a real roller-coaster of emotion,” you mumble as Greg chuckles, whipping the tears away again, “I love you too.” And with that, Greg pulled you in, his lips meeting yours in a sweet kiss that had your arms and legs get goosebumps. There was a loud clearing of a throat that made you and Greg pull away from each other; both turning to Sargent Voight who was holding your Portillo’s bag.
“I believe this is yours.”
“Thanks.” You said, Greg grabbed the bag as he kept one arm around you, not ready to let go just yet.
“Why don’t you take a long lunch, Mouse? There’s no rush since we got our guys now.” Voight said as he pointed his thumb over his shoulder, the redheaded woman finally being handcuffed and still struggling against it like a rabid animal.
“Thank you sir.” Greg said, nodding his head at the Sargent before turning back to you and smiling before kissing you on the head again. “Want to eat outside?”
You smiled as you could feel your love for Greg swelling in your chest, “I’d love that.”
TAGS: @l4life @ithoughtiwasflying
#chicago pd#chicago pd imagine#hank voight#jay halstead#greg gerwitz#mouse#district 21#21st district#kim burgess#adam ruzek#trudy platt#kevin atwater#intelligence unit#one chicago#greg gerwitz imagine#greg gerwitz x reader#mouse imagine#mouse x reader#chicago#portillo's#fluff#angst#cute#thegirlwhobrokeintothetardis writing#detective#sargent#officer#halstead#gerwitz#ruzek
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brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: birthdays (fluff and smut)
requested by anon !! what do our beloveds do for your birthday (spoiler, they (pretty much) all spoil you) warning for smut. more notes in tags
charles lee ray
avoids his own birthday but goes all out for yours
buys (or steals, don't ask) you a lot of presents
i mean a lot !!
new tv (stolen)
a lot of lingerie (classy)
you have a very late night the night before (takes you to a very rough bar)
lazy morning
expect a very happy birthday fuck to start the day
doesn't make you breakfast because he hates cooking
but does go out for coffee and your takeout breakfast of choice to bring home for you
has a cake professionally made/decorated
(because you made one for his birthday)
the message on top is something v horny like "your pussy tastier than this"
or it's like one word like "whore <3"
either way it is both hilarious and embarrassing that some poor bakery worker had to frost those words
takes you out for dinner (very fancy restaurant)
or to the movies
another happy birthday fuck when you get home
("how old are you again? guess that's how many rounds we've gotta get through tonight")
billy bibbit
billy doesn't much like his own birthday (his mom was too overbearing for him to ever properly enjoy himself)
but he is great at organising yours
lazy morning
as many kisses as years you are old
makes you breakfast in bed because he is a sweetheart
he makes you a present !!
he's actually really good at drawing and he fills a notebook with little drawings and pictures
(drawings of you and of things you love and one at the end of himself that he's embarrassed about but you love it)
then immediately thinks it isn't good enough and that he should of just bought you something
but you kiss him and reassure him that it's beautiful
the best present you've ever been given
you stay in that night to cook dinner together
he's definitely made you a cake !!
is it very aesthetic and the frosting is your favourite colour/flavour
sitting outside to watch the sunset !!
sheriff brackett
does everything in his power to make the day extra special for you
(has told his deputy not to bother him unless something really important happens)
buys you a sentimental/thoughtful gift
like some fancy thing related to your favourite hobby (e.g. expensive art supplies if you're an artist, etc.)
breakfast in bed !!
in your underwear, sun coming in through the windows
definitely the kind of guy to get ballons and banners to decorate the house with
(which is embarrassing but also wholesome)
takes you out to dinner at a very tasteful restaurant
you are birthday girl and he won't let you forget it
he's set the bar pretty high sex wise so has to pull out all the stops to make it extra special
clear your diary for the next 3 to 5 hours
("daddy's allowed to treat the birthday girl")
jack dante
forgets your birthday every time
its not that he doesnt care
but he has a lot going on
and keeping track of time whilst he's down in that basement is easier said than done
when you remind him that it is your birthday he gets more excited than you
sends you out to get cake and jelly and ice cream
which you begrudgingly go and get because you really think he might cry if you dont
sex is abundant but when is it not with jack
as it is your birthday he might be kind enough to give you a reach around whilst he rails you
when he actually gets you a present
(usually like a week late)
its either something actually brilliant (like the latest futurist technology (idk what they had in fake-future-2003))
or its something real fucking sleazy like a weirdo dildo ("so you don't get lonely when i'm not around")
doc cochran
would rather die than celebrate his own birthday
but he wants you to be happy on yours
(and every day)
gets you the best present
(where from? he has his ways)
definitely like some first edition copy of a niche book you like (poe, shakespeare, homer, that kind of thing)
makes sure he has no scheduled visits that day and wants to spend as much time with you as possible
(will personally beat Al's ass if he sends for him for no reason)
you spend the day talking about this and that
and he reads to you from the books he got you because goddamn does he have a beautiful voice
gets jewel to bake you a cake !!
gives you some special loving on your special day
this man knows how to take his time
usually he is busy and feels like he doesn't pay enough attention to you
so he makes up for it ten fold on your birthday
grima wormtongue
for a long while your relationship is pretty casual so he doesnt even know when your birthday is
once he actually figures out when your birthday is he wants to do something special
even if he isn't the most... emotionally open person
grima has sticky fingers so he tends to be able to get a hold of things that others cant
gets you something exotic, something you might not of ever even seen before
(think, pineapples or some other middle earth equivalent delicacy)
you appreciate him going out of his way for you
makes an excuse for you to leave meduseld with him
you go up to the fields and look out at the horizon
tommy ludlow
you both bunk off work to spend the day together
he is excellent at buying present(s)
knows exactly what to get you because he's a good listener
definitely gets you a record or new clothes
neither of you have much money so all your plans are always simple
but tommy is the perfect person to just hang out with, he's so mellow when he's with you
has no plans for the day except letting you do whatever you want
you drive around the city
end up going by the natural history museum
(because both of you are actually secretly soft and love holding hands and wandering around the exhibits)
or the met (because you both know your fair share about art, working around fashion shoots all day)
that night you go to some shady dive bar
(and drink too much, if that is your thing)
tumbling in through your front door, you two were never going to make it to the bedroom
"happy birthday" he smirks against you as you both lay, tired, on the living room floor
leo nova
spends so much money on you
mostly because he likes to show off his money
("when can i treat my girl to all that she deserves if not on her birthday?")
but partly because gift giving is his love language, or at least the only way he feels comfortable showing that he cares
a new dress that costs more than the rent on your old apartment, shoes that cost twice as much
takes you to the fanciest restaurant possible
and then fucks you in the dirtiest way possible when you get home
and he can go all night long
*wink wink*
tucker cleveland
hasnt celebrated his own birthday in years so has kind of forgot that birthdays are a thing
remembers yours like 3 days before and kicks himself for leaving it so late to get you a present
(you help him out by giving hint to what you want in the run up to your birthday)
keeps the whole thing very lowkey
which you don't mind, you're not into big celebrations anyway
he does get you a gift in time, thanks to your hints
he's probably at work during the day
but after he gets home and you have dinner together, he hands over his present
although you sort of already knew what it'd be, its definitely the thought that counts with tucker
"and the best is yet to come, don't you worry" he says smiling
of course, the real present is him pounding you over the table
(because who has the time to go up to bed)
#brad dourif x reader#charles lee ray x reader#jack dante x reader#billy bibbit x reader#sheriff brackett x reader#grima wormtongue x reader#doc cochran x reader#tommy ludlow x reader#tucker cleveland#leo nova#charles lee ray#ahh i actually had already started writing this in anticipation for my own birthday when i got the request#i never do anything for my birthday but our all of them want to treat you (sort of)#jack just wants to party#and grima is too emotionally repressed#at least billy and doc and the sheriff are pulling through for you#thank you for the request !! i love interacting with people and knowing people actually like these is very exciting#especially as the fandom is so small so im glad i can cater to you guys :)))#also i realised after writing that the request technically said s/o but i always write fem reader so i hope this is still okay ??#slashers x reader
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Music December III: My Fair Lady (1964) - Recap: Part One
Talking about musical theatre? Gotta go to the Greeks.
The modern Western style of theatre has its roots in ancient Greece, around the 500s or so. It’s where we get names like Aeschylus and Aristophanes and Thespis and all them guys. Performance was the preferred Greek method of telling tales, along with oration. And between the two, acting out a story automatically makes it more memorable and engaging, right?
But the stories told by the culture go back even further, told as mythology since God knows when. Over time, though, those stories were recorded into written word by poets. The Greeks had people like Homer, and their mythologies were eventually passed onto (read: basically straight-up stolen by) the Romans. They also had various famous poets, most notably Ovid. And in his 15-book epic (beat that, fanfic writers. I mean, actually beat that, I believe in you), he detailed multiple myths in Greek and Roman mythology. One of the Greek ones spoke of a sculptor named Pygmalion.
Let’s get something clear first: Pygmalion was an ass.
He was a sculptor who saw sex-workers this one time and immediately hated all women as a result. He’s basically an ancient Greek incel, who chooses to stay celibate as to not be around those gross, sinful, flawed women. Instead, he resolves to make his own perfect woman, out of pure ivory. He makes a sculpture of a beautiful woman, and immediately falls in love with it. Like an American otaku who collects way too many, uh...figurines. Like those figurines. That’s essentially Pygmalion.
And I mean it, dude falls in love with the statue. It’s Greek mythology, that kind of stuff is bound to happen. He makes it a bed, he gives it gifts, he makes out with it and caresses it. You know, normal stuff. But obviously, the statue can’t respond or react to this. So, he resigns to his objectophilia and sinks into intense depression.
And that’s when Aphrodite enters the chat.
Aphrodite is from the same island that Pygmalion was from, so she was always paying attention to the place. And when she see this weird-ass passion, she was intrigued. Pygmalion prayed that he could find a real woman like this statue, and Aphrodite granted his wish, in sort of a reverse monkey’s paw. See, instead of giving him a woman like the statue, she just brought the goddamn statue to life, and named her Galatea. They fell in love, got married, had a kid, and...that’s it. Yup.
Now, some of you might be thinking, “I’ve definitely heard this story before. And you’re probably right, but we’ll get to that in a minute. The rest of you are probably thinking, “That seems like some sexist bullshit.” And, yeah, the story of a man literally objectifying all women, and then having a loving relationship with that object...yeah, that’s pretty goddamn sexist, not gonna lie. Still hasn’t stopped it from being adapted...a LOT.
Let’s start with the obvious.
Maybe the most famous example of an inanimate human-shaped object being brought to life by love and magic is Pinocchio by Carlo Collodi. Of course, that story is very different from the story of Pygmalion, but...come on. The trope is literally the same idea. Granted, in the original book, it’s the creation that wishes to become a real boy, for the sake of its creator. It’s still extremely similar.
But fine, if you want a straight adaptation of the story, there’s no short supply. The story’s been adapted, referenced, and reinterpreted since Shakespeare. And even he referenced the story in A Winter’s Tale and Measure for Measure. Looking through a list of adaptations gives you a who’s who of authors. Shakespeare, Beddoes, Bell Scott, Tennyson (but not that one), Brodsky, Hawthorne, Updike, Lovecraft (yes, that one), Asimov, Rousseau, and Wharton. Hell, DC Comics has used the idea 3 separate times! Wonder Woman is literally a clay sculpture brought to life with love from her creator and the gods. Grant Morrison made a villainous Pygmalion in the form of Professor Pyg, and the DC Animated Universe gave the name Galatea to a clone of Supergirl!
YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN?
This is a very popular story, is what I’m saying. And we’ve all heard or seen at least one variation of it. But the funny thing is, to see the most popular straight adaptation of the original story, you have to fast-forward to 1913 and famous Irish playwright George Bernard Shaw. While he can be credited with a lot of things, including the 1925 Nobel Peace Prize in Literature and a 1938 Oscar for Best Screenplay (BOTH of which he didn’t want), one of his most famous credits is the 1913 play, Pygmalion.
This story was already popular at this point, and a lot of playwrights and poets had turned their attentions to it one way or another. Shaw’s version modernized the story (as many people did at this point), but changed the subject of Pygmalion’s focus from a sculpture into...well, a living, breathing woman named Eliza Doolittle. Eliza was a flower girl, and was Cockney. If you don’t know, Cockney describes a working class Londoner with a very distinctive dialect and use of the English language. That “working class” thing isn’t as applicable today as it was in the 1910s, for the record.
Our Pygmalion of the evening is Professor Henry Higgins, an uptight phonetics teacher who takes on the job of teaching Eliza to be a proper British lady, essentially as a bet just to show how awesome he is. So, yeah, he’s literally sculpting her into his ideal woman, and he does end up falling in love with her as a result. Also, yes, this concept will sound familiar to anyone who likes ‘90s teen comedies.
Yes, She’s All That is an adaptation of Shaw’s Pygmalion.
And no wonder, because this play is Shaw’s most popular, and it’s the version most people associate with the original myth! It was first adapted into film in 1935. In 1938, the British film Pygmalion got an Oscar for Best Screenplay. And then, in 1956, it made its way to the USA...as a musical. Because that’s what we do, what can I tell you?
Dame Julie Andrews herself played the role of Eliza, while famous actor Rex Harrison played Higgins. And this was on stage, mind you. The play was written by Alan Lerner and Frederick Loewe, and debuted on Broadway in 1956. Unsurprisingly, the film was a smash hit, and won six Tony Awards including Best Musical. At the time, it was the longest running show on Broadway, and has had 15 runs over the years, with the last one being a USA tour in 2019! Popular play, is what I’m saying.
Sadly, Shaw wasn’t alive for any of this, as he died in 1950. Would he have liked to see his play become a smash musical? Well, he didn’t like it becoming a film, I’ll tell you that. So...maybe, maybe not. In any case, the train was running now, and the film adaptation was inevitable. It took 8 years, but Lerner’s screenplay and George Cukor‘s direction were brought onto the film adaptation of the musical adaptation of the literary adaptation of the Greek myth. For their Higgins, they chose the Broadway originator, Rex Harrison. And for Eliza? Well, of course, famous star of the silver screen...Audrey Hepburn?
Yeah, despite not really being a Broadway actress or singer...AT ALL...the filmmakers cast Audrey Hepburn. And yeah, I know that Audrey was a ballet dancer, and she was a chorus girl in the West End for a little bit. I’m aware, but...Hepburn? Don’t get me wrong, Audrey Hepburn is fantastic, seriously. Grew up with her thanks to my Mom (she’s a huge fan), and watched her films later on in life, with this and a few more being exceptions. But she’s not really a singer, and definitely not on par with Andrews.
So why not bring in Julie Andrews. Get this: they thought she wasn’t famous enough. Which actually makes some sense, know that I’m looking at it. Sure, she was in a number of films at that point, and she was known within musical and acting circles. But she hadn’t broken out as a star as of yet. Funny thing is, ONE MONTH before My Fair Lady came out in theatres...
There is, within the infinite multiverse, an alternate universe in which Julie Andrews was in My Fair Lady, and Audrey Hepburn was Mary Poppins. THINK about that shit.
Anyway, despite that, My Fair Lady is, to be this day, considered one of the best movie musicals ever made. And I haven’t seen it. What’s more, even though I know the basic plot, I actually know none of the songs from this one. Sure, I’ve heard of some of them, but I don’t really know any of them like I did with Singin’ in the Rain or The King and I. So, this is exciting! New fresh musical ground for me!
And with ALL of that said, enough navel gazing! Let’s get into it!
SPOILERS AHEAD!!!
Recap: Part One
After an flowery instrumental introduction and opening credits, we find ourselves in the midst of high society as a party files out into the rain-drenched streets of London. In the chaos, gentleman Freddy Eynsford-Hill (Jeremy Brett) bumps into Cockney flower girl Eliza Doolittle (Audrey Hepburn), causing her to spill her flowers. She demands payment, and speaks in a yowling, high-pitched, Cockney accent which is...genuinely annoying, not gonna lie.
A fellow person on the streets warns her that a man is taking notes as she speaks. She obviously thinks this is a detective, and starts freaking the fuck out about it. Again, understandable; I’d freak out if somebody were taking notes about what I was saying. Turns out, though, that this man is Professor Henry Higgins (Rex Harrison), who’s writing her dialects down as a matter of record. He is, after all, a scholar of phonetics, the “science of speech”, and he proves it by Sherlock Holmesing everybody’s place of origin based on their accent. He should try that shit on me; my American accent is so undefinable, it’s near impossible to tell where I’m from.
When asked to explain, he takes the opportunity to lambast Eliza’s use of the English language, as well as any other use of the language outside of his own type of usage (“Why Can’t the English Learn to Speak”). Yeah, Higgins, is SUPER elitist in terms of language usage. And while he might be verbose, he’s also an ass. Again, this is our Pygmalion of the evening. After his insult-laden song, he lays down this gem for Eliza.
Yes, you squashed cabbage leaf, you disgrace to the noble architecture of these columns, you incarnate insult to the English language, I could pass you off as the Queen of Sheba!
This speech and that insult catches the attention of Colonel Hugh Pickering (Wilfrid Hyde-White), a student of phonetics himself. Intrigued by Higgins’ idea that language is the actual division between classes (instead of, you know, unequal economic distribution), the two strike up a conversation. Turns out that Pickering is a student of the languages of India, and was coming to England to see Higgins, while Higgins was planning to go to India to see Pickering! They take off to go make out somewhere or something.
As they leave, Higgins gives money to her, mostly as a half-gesture. But it launches her and her fellows into talking about their ideal lives, and the things they’d like most (“Wouldn’t it be Loverly?”). And that song, of course, is one of the more well-known songs from this musical. It’s a cute song and dance, and then the night becomes morning. In the process, we get a fascinating shot that looks ripped right off the stage, as the people of the town filter in bit-by-bit, pausing in stages until they all move together, in a busy crowd. Honestly, I like it quite a lot.
Eliza’s father, Alfred P. Doolittle (Stanley Doolittle), a drunkard and deadbeat, comes around asking for some money, and Eliza reluctantly gives him a bit before thinking about that sick-ass insult Higgins gave. She has an idea, then uses the money to get a cab and head to Higgins’ offices. He’s playing with phonographs while talking with Pickering when Eliza is brought in by housekeeper Mrs. Pearce (Mona Washbourne).
While initially incensed at her presence, Pickering offers to cover to costs of the lesson, as he’s curious to see if Higgins actually could have her pose as a Duchess. After...a lot of really annoying screaming from Eliza and condescending folderol from Higgins, the deal is set. Higgins will, over the course of the next six months, essentially train her to act and speak as a proper lady. Under some protest, she agrees...but only after he promises her a fuckton of chocolate. I get it.
Mrs. Pearce and her fellow waitstaff go upstairs to give her a bath. By force. Eliza screams. My girlfriend completely gives up on the movie, and goddamn, I kinda get it. But I’m here to stick with it, so I do. Speaking of girlfriends, Pickering plays good cop (as he has been, to his credit) and asks Higgins of his intentions with the vulnerable young woman suddenly living in his house. And that’s when Higgins launches into “I’m an Ordinary Man”, a song specifically about hating women. And yeah, dude definitely hates women, and pledges to never let a woman in his life alongside super-misogynistic references aplenty. Which, yeah, is the point of the character.
Right after that, though, we get another song from Alfred Doolittle, detailing the lifestyle of a man who cheats on his wife, constantly sleeps around, and mooches off of his daughter (“With a Little Bit of Luck”). Yup. He’s a piece of shit. Very fun song, though. In the process, he learns from another woman on the streets that Eliza no longer lives in her residence, having moved in with Higgins. And that’s the signal to go a-moochin’ for old Alfred.
At the Higgins residence, Eliza’s being worked constantly, which is why the housekeeper is worried about...Higgins overworking himself. Um. OK, whatever, she doesn’t really have an attachment to Eliza yet. Alfred then comes a-knocking, demanding...something. The two men talk around each other, but Alfred eventually just straight-up asks for money. Basically, he’s selling Eliza to Higgins for 5 bucks, thinking that she’s acting as a sex worker for Higgins.
...There are no likeable people in this film.
Well, Pickering’s likeable at least. Higgins is weirdly charmed by Alfred’s complete lack of morals and convictions, and gives him the requested money. Alfred and Eliza meet for a hot second, then Higgins goes on to tell her to practice her vowels. Pickering tries to prompt patience from Higgins, proving himself as the only likeable character so far.
Eliza’s fed up with Higgins, and fantasizes about her revenge on him, in what is...a genuinely entertaining sequence that starts to win me over (“Just You Wait"). The lessons continue, while the...ridiculously large waitstaff seems to pity...Higgins (”Servant’s Chorus”). Apparently, he’s working himself too hard, even though we literally see him starving Eliza. They’re also so very annoyed at the lessons themselves, and are on the verge of quitting. Also, Jesus, how many people does this man employ?
The lessons continue, with little success and with weird methods. There’s one scene where Higgins makes Eliza say a sentence with marbles in her mouth, and I was SO CURIOUS, I SHIT YOU NOT, that I tried it myself, using marshmallows instead of marbles. Because I don’t have marbles. But, yeah, it actually did make me more mindful for how I was enunciating. Also, I had marshmallows.
But then, one night, after many days and nights of working, and after Higgins waxes poetic about the nature of the English language...Eliza just miraculously gets it. Like...instantly and perfectly (“The Rain in Spain”). The breakthrough delights the trio so much that they begin dancing and singing all over the place. Higgins reacts by deciding to publicly “debut” her at the races the following day. Eliza reacts by...well, singing. It is a musical.
As Mrs. Pearce and the maids are trying to get her to bed, she sings...wait. “I Could’ve Danced All Night” comes from this musical? Literally, the only lines I knew from that song are literally in the title, but I’ve heard of the song. Interesting with context, gotta say. Eventually, though, Eliza goes to bed, exhausted. The next day opens with...my favorite sequence in the film.
Again clearly ripped right off the stages of Broadway, “Ascot Gavotte” is a beautiful set piece, full of ridiculous gowns and hats. And I genuinely love the entire sequence. Until the plot kicks in. Funny thing about me, I am violently allergic to what the kids once called “cringe”. It hurts me to watch shit like Eliza immediately making a fool out of herself at the races with the elite. But even then, gotta say, Eliza’s iconic gown is absolutely gorgeous. Like, look at that fucking HAT! I love it.
One of these “elite”, by the way, is Mrs. Higgins (Gladys Cooper), Henry’s mother, who is not excited to see him. She allows him, Pickering, and Eliza into her box to watch the race. She starts to talk about less-than-classy things in her new high-bred accent, and then...well, a hilarious thing happens.
Great place to pause. See you in Part Two!
#my fair lady#film:my fair lady#my fair lady 1964#george cukor#audrey hepburn#rex harrison#stanley holloway#wilfrid hyde-white#gladys cooper#jeremy brett#movie musical#musical film#musical december#musicember#user365#365days365movies#365 movie challenge#queenmarissa#filmgifs#userbrenda#yocalio#usercandy
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Are you still working on your Commonwealth study? Do you have any thoughts on Arthur's relationships with his colonies apart from Canzuk + US?
Not properly, unfortunately with exams and then work I haven’t had mental/emotional capacity to do real research (and probably won’t for a while 😔). But I have continued to think about and develop certain relationships, and I think I also have old hcs I’ve never shared, so I’ll put those down!
Born into the Empire
Australia
@oumaheroes has already done such great hcs on him idk what I can add, but basically he was a little bit of a rowdy child, always breaking windows and shattering fancy pots, never able to sit still. I think rainbow once mentioned that Ken (short for Kenneth, my name for Aus) was a lot like England as a child in his curiosity and energy, and I wholeheartedly agree. But I think Arthur’s intensity was more inwardly directed, pushing him to pursue and master new talents and learn whatever he could, while Australia is a little more carefree in his love for the outdoors, exploring, jumping around and off things, little wild animals. Unfortunately for him, he was born in a period of the empire when Arthur was very serious about his kids education, and therefore often praised those who studied hard and learned fast, which really just wasn’t Australia’s cup of tea. Australia took this kinda hard and thought he was the “dumb” one in the family that Arthur was always scolding, but in reality Arthur knew and appreciated that Australias interests lay elsewhere — he was just a frustrated, tired, parent who really wanted to give his kids the best while also holding his empire together, two goals that were never going to fit well in the end and would completely exhaust him.
As Australia’s grown older he’s realized a bit of this (not entirely, though) and also that 1) he really did break a lot expensive things and cause general mayhem 2) scolding us Arthur’s way of showing he cares, if he didn’t he wouldn’t have payed attention to him at all 3) despite being a penal colony, he was still one of Arthur’s more “legitimate” children (being white and a boy) and was therefore still incredibly privileged — never having to question, for example, why it was that Arthur was his dad, if it should be this way, or if he had a seat at the family table at all (more on this later).
New Zealand
Zee, from birth, was a clear favourite. Obedient, calm, quietly intelligent, he would also later develop a blistering sense of humour which combined with his appearance made it overwhelmingly clear who’s child he was. If Ken questioned his place in the family because of his poor academic record and others did because of their appearance/race/other complications, Kaelan never had such problems; his siblings called him the “prince.” Zee, however, also had a charm that, like Matthew, endeared him to his siblings and mostly protected him from jealousy, though he certainly still had issues with being called a try hard, daddy’s boy, bossy, arrogant. Certainly as a child Zee was a little prideful and, under that unperturbed demeanour, willful, but he grew out of it by the 20th century and became one of those most trusted by Arthur, second only to Matthew. He’s also always been inseparable from his brother Australia despite their differences, and today they both have one of the healthiest and most amicable relationships with Arthur of any nation, let alone former colonies (family road trips, every summer).
Bermuda
I absolute fell in love with this girl after reading about here, once, in this fic by @shachaai, and after that my mind just ran away with me. For me, her human name given to her by Arthur just has to be Ariel — for the little mermaid reference, yes, symbolizing her connection to the sea and stunning good looks, but also because:
1. Ariel is a biblical name, meaning lion of God. This makes sense to me, because Bermuda began as a Portuguese trade post, so Arthur definitely consulted our resident bad catholic Port before naming her.
2. Ariel used to be boys name. This also makes sense, because I hc Bermuda was and still is a tomboy. Bitch is fierce, takes no prisoners, and has zero filter. Her letters to Arthur, which all the colonies sent so Arthur could keep an eye on things, were full of shit like “I swear to god if the Spanish don’t get out of my waters I might eat one of them,” and “father, I asked you for destroyers two months ago, and yet you sent them to Hong Kong — could you explain this most unusual occurrence, surely it’s not that you forgot”, and “thank you for the harpoon on my birthday, I caught a small shark a couple days ago and have sent you some of its teeth for your collection.” Arthur tolerates this attitude because he’s weak when it comes to girls; he absolutely spoils his daughters (and flushes like a 16 year old when a woman so much as bats her eyelashes at him). Yes, p*ssywhipped Arthur is a hill I will die on.
3. It also suits her because? Ariel? Shakespeare? The Tempest? Bermuda Triangle? Shipwrecks? Daughter-like figure of powerful and vengeful sorcerer? Yeah. And this girl is a fire spirit — she is so lively, snarky, clever. As she’s grown older she’s mellowed out a little, but still: a no shit taken, no fucks given type of gal.
4. Speaking of growing up, she’s also become quite the beauty. Shacha, if I’m remembering correctly, described her as dark skinned, wavy-haired, and green eyed and that image has been burned onto the back of my eyelids ever since. Those Iberian genetics really be pulling through for her, that’s for sure. Engport love child if I’ve ever seen one. Definitely one of the prettiest in her family.
Singapore
I’ve already mentioned this to needcake, but I’m not too big a fan of canon Singapore, so this is my oc version. Singapore is fascinating to me because it had only a very small local population before it became a colony (The original settlement had actually been destroyed by the Portuguese about two centuries before the British started building a port there.) So nation-tans like Singapore and Bermuda really are Arthur’s children in the most direct sense of the word. And yet, Singapore is mostly ethnically Chinese, with Malays being the second largest group. Growing up Asian in a white, Victorian era family surely cannot have been easy and more than once Singapore probably wondered if there hadn’t been some mistake. To make up for the constant fear that he wasn’t “really” British, Singapore studied ferociously and had a truly terrifying work ethic. I’m not sure if this is common knowledge outside Asian circles, so I’ll mention that this hc comes from the fact Singapore is well known for having truly exceptional students and some of the most prestigious schools. Singaporeans score highly in literally everything and they have an advantage with good English learning environments, a highly desirable trait in Asia, but these results come from brutally long hours — and its really saying something that they’re known for working hard, considering the studying ethic of students in Korea, Japan, and China aint nothing to sneeze at, either. To me this actually fits really well with Singapore’s upbringing in Arthur’s household, because Arthur himself prizes intelligence and hard work above all else, being a workaholic himself.
As for their relationship, it was probably the best when Singapore was young and peaked in the 1930s with the massive naval base the British built at Singapore, at the time the largest dry dock in the world. Singapore was a well-behaved child, not necessarily introverted but not rowdy either, and all the way into his teenage years he truly admired Arthur and was proud to be a part of the British Empire, despite his lingering unease and insecurities. The British defeat in World War II, however, was a massive turning point. He had worked his ass off to be a good son, a good brother, to contribute to the only family and system he had ever known, and he had thought by the 30s he was finally on his way to becoming a fine adult. And suddenly, the British surrender brings his entire world crashing down. He had followed the rules faithfully thinking it was his destiny, but suddenly it was clear that all rules were made up. Of course, his insecurities exploded. If the empire was a ruse, what the hell was he? A part of the illusion? He couldn’t have a truly Asian identity, because many of the old East Asian nations shunned him for his Western upbringing, and he could not entirely understand their values either. So he was a kid who kinda had to figure out late and very very suddenly who the fuck he was and wanted to be.
And, well, he’s done pretty well for himself, hasn’t he. After having a total crisis and questioning everything, I think Singapore slowly started to realize that just because the British Empire as a political entity didn’t last forever, that didn’t mean that his entire childhood and identity weren’t real. The love he gave to his siblings and the love he got back, the hard work he put in, his bond with Arthur and the safe, happy childhood he had — those memories and feelings didnt have to be diminished by what came after. Essentially, he learned the lesson all nations have to learn, which is that one needs to be able to discern between duties as a nation and feelings as a human being, and to some extent keep them separate to protect both.
Whoooooo ok I’ll stop there because this turned into a dissertation, sorry. Let me know if there are any specifics u want me to elaborate on or anything I missed, but I’ll leave this here for today :)
#hws england#hws Australia#hws new zealand#oc: hws Bermuda#not gonna tag anymore I’m lazy#fun times with the commonwealth#I probably won’t write so much for all of them I just put it there to remind myself#needcake#ask#my hcs
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Out of My League [Part 4]
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Single mom!Reader
Word count: ~3.2k
Summary: Why on Earth does everyone think you and Spencer are dating? That’s just ridiculous! Right?
Warning(s): the pining is strong with this one, alcohol consumption, i think there were like one or two swear words?? pretty tame
Author’s Note: OH MY GOD WE’RE BACK AGAIN!!!!! yeah it’s been WAyy too long I’m so sorry guys. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE!!! I’m almost done with the next part so the wait won’t be NEARLY as bad this time around. Ok love yall hope you like it!!!
[Previous Part] [Series Masterlist]
The play was a lovely way to spend your evening. You could hear Spencer beside you muttering the words along with the actors. The monologues were beautiful coming from the talent on stage, but it was nothing compared to your best friend’s whispers when he thought you couldn’t hear him. You looked straight ahead to the stage, fearing that he’d stop if you indicated that you were listening, but you still felt his eyes on you as he gently uttered, “I’ll follow thee and make a heaven of hell, to die upon the hand I love so well.”
Hearing the words you had read and swooned over countless times before coming from Spencer’s soft voice made a shiver run down your spine.
Spencer Reid did not just give you chills, that did not just happen, you told yourself.
The chill that ran across your body contrasted nicely with heat in your face when you felt his gaze roll over your features. You didn’t always like the feeling when someone’s eyes were on you, but something about it being Spencer’s eyes felt… right. You weren’t uncomfortable, quite the opposite, actually. You found yourself being overjoyed in your seat, but you couldn’t tell yourself why.
Or at least you refused to.
When the show ended, Spencer led you out the door you entered from, and you left the library with a dopey smile on your face as you stepped into the chilly autumn night. The sun had gone down during the play and the streetlamps glowed white against the black sky.
“You hungry?” Spencer asked.
“Starving.”
“It’s a little late for dinner, you think we’ll find a place?”
“It’s only eight o’clock, there’s gotta be somewhere.”
“A McDonald’s maybe?”
You laughed harder than you normally would, but his smile when he made his joke pulled an airy giggle from your lungs that you had no control over.
You wandered for blocks, finding restaurants that were still busy with long waits. A cute ice cream shop caught both your eyes from across the street and you and Spencer thought the same exact thing.
Some things really didn’t change since you were kids.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Of course I am, Y/N, why are we still on this side of the street?”
You crossed the road together, way too excited for grown adults to be about having ice cream for dinner. There was a line, but it was only a few people long, so you decided to wait for this more than worth it opportunity. As you approached the store, a young family was leaving. The daughter, a young girl in a pink sweater, was so focused on her cake batter flavored cone, she didn’t realize she dropped her stuffed rabbit. Spencer nearly stepped on it, but he picked it up and called after the family. They didn’t hear him, so he went after them and tapped the father on the shoulder.
“Hi, sorry, I think she dropped this.”
“Oh my goodness, Lucy, you dropped your bunny!” The mother shrieked.
“Thank you so much, really,” said Lucy’s dad, “Say thank you, sweetheart.”
“Thank you, sweetheart!” Lucy took the toy from Spencer and smiled.
About ten feet behind the scene, you were losing it. Spencer turned around after the family left and made a face while you laughed your ass off.
“That was the cutest thing I have ever seen!” You giggled as he held the door open for you, “Thanks, sweetheart.”
Spencer cracked a smile and bit his lips, gaze dropping to the floor as he blushed.
Okay, maybe that was the cutest thing you had ever seen.
“I miss when Jamie was that little. He was so cute!”
“He’s still a cute kid!” The line moves forward, you’re next up.
“Well, yeah, of course, he is! But now he knows what words mean and that’s not as funny.”
“Children learn through imitation, so it makes sense he copied things you did and said because you're his mom, he looks up to you.”
“He looks up to you, too, you know.” The family in front of you got their ice cream and left, leaving you to order, “Can I get a sugar cone of cookies and cream?” The girl behind the counter nodded and scooped your ice cream. She then turned to a catatonic Spencer, who was staring at you, cheeks flushed and lips parted. He snapped out of it and ordered a cup of rocky road with extra marshmallow fluff on top.
“What are you doing?” Spencer asked as you pulled out your credit card.
“Paying for our ice cream, what does it look like?”
“No, I’ll pay—” He reached for his pocket, but was too slow.
“Oops, too late,” you said, swiping your card and smirking. The girl behind the counter smiled and waved to you as you left.
“Did you mean that? Jamie looks up to me?”
You turned to look at Spencer, whose eyes were full of stars as he grinned back at you, “Yeah! Of course, he does!”
“Really?”
“Oh, don’t be so surprised, Spencer, you’re like his real-life superhero. You saved his life, genius, he wants to be just like you.”
“He wants to be a profiler?”
“Not necessarily. He thinks you’re a secret agent. Like a spy.”
Spencer chuckled, “And how do you feel about that?”
“Oh, it’s terrifying, I hate it.”
“Yep,” Spencer spooned some ice cream into his mouth, “That’s what I thought.”
“I mean, Jesus, Spence, I get retroactive heart attacks from all the shit you tell me about your cases, I don’t know if I want my kid getting into that. I’d worry even more than I already do.”
“You worry about me?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“What?”
“You’re my best friend, genius! Of course, I worry about you!”
You finished your ice creams on the metro and walked home in comfortable silence. As you turned the corner onto your block, you grinned up at Spencer.
“Thanks for playing tour guide today. I had fun. Haven’t gone out with friends since I moved here.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t have any friends here to go out with.”
His eyebrows jumped as he sputtered out a sentence, “Oh. W-well why don’t you come out with the team and me sometime?”
“No, they’re your friends I wouldn’t wanna intrude—”
“You wouldn't be intruding, you're my friend too.”
“Spence—”
“One of my teammates is having a dinner party tomorrow night. He’s a great cook and would love to meet you.”
You dug around your bag for your keys, “I don’t know anyone else on the team!”
“You know JJ! And Derek, too. He’s been asking about you.” Spencer’s eyes dropped to his shoes again as your welcome mat became way more interesting than your face.
“Really?” He pursed his lips and nodded. You thought it over for a moment and decided, “Fine. Text me a time and address.”
His eyes snapped back to yours, “No, I-I’ll pick you up.”
“Woah woah woah, you’re gonna drive me around?” You laughed in disbelief, “Sorry, Doc, I know our whole dynamic has changed a bit ‘cuz we’re both grown-ups now, but I’m not sure either of us is quite ready for that.”
His smile finally flashed back across his face, “Come on, I owe you.”
“For what?”
“You bought the ice cream!” His voice was high pitched.
You matched his tone, “You took me to the Shakespeare library!”
“You took me to McDonald’s 106 times in high school! I’m sure the amount of money you spent on my food could buy the whole gift shop!”
Your jaw fell open, “You counted?”
“I can’t help it!”
You rolled your eyes, failing to fight back a grin, “Goodnight, genius.”
He bit his lips and smiled, “Goodnight, Y/N.”
You jam the key in your door and push it open, closing it with your body as you sigh, leaning your head back against it.
“That good, huh?” Said a voice from the living room, causing you to jump.
“Jesus, mom, what are you still doing up?” You sigh, clutching your chest.
“Well, I put Jamie to bed, I figured I’d wait up for you so I can hear about your date!”
“Wh- mom, what are you talking about?”
“With Spencer! How was your date?”
“That wasn’t a date!”
“Really? So you guys just walked around for hours in silence doing nothing?”
“We didn’t just walk around!”
“So what’d you guys do?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
“Oh my god, mom.”
“You’re not denying anything!”
“Mom!”
“You can tell me, it’s just us girls.”
“He took me to the Shakespeare Library! We got ice cream! That’s it! Nothing happened!”
“Shakespeare Library? Ice cream?” her eyebrows darted up so far it was almost like a cartoon character, “Toots, that’s not nothing!”
“It’s nothing. We just saw a play-”
“What play?”
“Midsummer Night’s Dream.”
Your mother closed her book and tossed it next to her on the couch. “Oh! You mean your favorite! Silly me for thinking this was a romantic outing!”
“It wasn’t!”
“Who paid for the ice cream?”
“I did.”
“Did he offer?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t let him.”
Your mother sighed, “You’re telling me it wasn’t a date, but all I’m hearing is that Spencer thought it was.”
“Then why didn’t he make a move?”
“So many reasons! He’s shy! He’s a gentleman! Maybe he thought you weren’t into him.”
“I’m not.”
“Then why are you so upset?”
Is everyone a profiler now? God!
“Mom, it’s getting late, I walked the length of the city today, I’m going to bed. You can stay over if you don’t wanna drive, but I’m getting some sleep.”
“Right, you need to be rested for tomorrow night. Got a dinner party to go to!”
“Were you listening?”
“The window was open just a crack, I may have heard some of the conversation.”
“Jesus…”
“What? You’re meeting his friends already, this is big.”
You groaned, dragging your feet up the stairs to your bedroom, changing out of your clothes, and hopping in the shower before cozying up for bed. Whether or not you wanted to admit your mom was right, you knew she was. And that terrified you.
(Spencer’s POV)
I rang the doorbell of her house at exactly 6:30, just like I said I would. Seconds later, the door swung open and revealed her smiling face shimmering with her makeup. I took in her outfit, a cute floral dress reaching the tops of her knees. I tried to make sure my eyes didn’t linger on the neckline for too long when I noticed a thin silver chain resting on her collarbone. A small heart-shaped pendant dangled from it.
“Wow.” Was all I could manage, “You look—”
“Totally overdressed, right? Cuz I can dress this down a bit, I just need to change the shoes and throw on a jacket. You know what? I have another dress upstairs I’ll just cha—”
“No, Y/N, you look…” Beautiful, enchanting, stunning, like the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, I thought about saying all of that, but instead, I just said, “Great.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” I tried to say it as sincerely as possible, “Are you ready to go?”
“Yep!” She reached around the door to take a denim jacket from a hook on the wall, throwing it over her shoulders, “Lemme just get my purse—” she glanced around the room and cut herself off with a groan.
“What?”
“I left my bag in my room. Here, come inside, it’s chilly out.” She rushed down the hall to hurry up the stairs to what I’d assume was her bedroom. I stepped across the threshold and into the warm home. There was a faint glow of light from the kitchen, where a child’s laugh bubbled from the room. I followed the sound and found Jamie and Mrs. L/N sitting at the table doing a puzzle.
“Oh, hi, Spencer!” She called.
“Doctor Spencer!” Jamie jumped up from his seat and ran to me, wrapping his arms around my legs.
“Hey, little man!” I ruffled his hair and flashed a grin to Y/N’s mom.
I heard the tapping of shoes descending the stairs behind me, “Okay, got everything, you ready?”
I quickly turned around at the sound of Y/N’s voice and saw her smiling at Jamie beside me.
“Goodnight, Jamie-baby, I’ll see you in the morning, okay? Have fun with grandma,” she cooed as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Goodnight!”
“Bye, buddy!”
“Bye, Doc!”
“Have fun you two, be safe!” Y/N’s mom grinned as she waved us away.
“Oh my god, mom, stop.”
“Okay! Goodnight, my loves!”
“Goodnight!”
Y/N marched out the door and followed the path down to the street, where my car was parked.
“Last chance, Doc, want me to drive instead?”
I passed her to open the passenger side door for her, “Not a chance, I promised.”
“What a gentleman! Now let’s see if we make it there in one piece first.”
The laugh I let out was half-mockery, half-nerves, as I was not the best driver. I had a Ph.D. in engineering and understood more about physics than most people, but that doesn’t mean I knew how to focus well enough to apply that knowledge. When it is literally impossible for me to forget that I have a 1 in 96 chance of dying in a car accident, my hypervigilance does more harm than good.
“So who am I meeting? Who’s on your team?”
My anxieties were somewhat quelled by the sound of her voice, allowing me to pull my thoughts away from the possibility of becoming one of the 20% of fatal car crashes that occur in intersections.
“Well, you already know JJ and Garcia. Hotch, my boss—”
“Tall, dark, handsome? Never smiles?”
I chuckled, “That’s the guy.”
“He seems fun at parties.”
“He’s actually not that bad. Just a bit too serious sometimes.”
“Okay, and who haven’t I met?”
“The host, David Rossi, Emily, you’ll love them.”
“Is Derek coming?”
IQ of 187 and I still don’t think anyone could have explained to me why that upset me as much as it did. It’s not like Y/N was my girlfriend or anything, she was allowed to want Derek, most girls did, so there was no reason for me to be jealous. She wasn’t mine to lose.
“Yeah. He’ll be there.”
We pulled up to Rossi’s mansion a few minutes later, after riding in semi-awkward silence. She waited for me next to her side of the car, not wanting to walk up to the door by herself. I reached out to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder as I drew closer. She gave me a tight-lipped smile before dropping her eyes to the ground between us.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m nervous, what if they don’t like me.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, what’s not to love?” I didn’t even realize how much I meant those words at the time, so I doubt she understood how serious I was, but her smile softened and her shoulders relaxed slightly under my touch. I led her up to the front porch and rang the doorbell. Shortly after, Garcia opened the door and beamed at the two of us.
“You’re here! Oh my goodness, so nice to see you again!” She pulled Y/N into a hug that she very quickly accepted.
“Hi, Penelope, good to see you too.” She pulled away and grinned at me, the worry mostly drained from her eyes now.
“Come here, boy genius, you get one too!” She wrapped her arms around my waist and my face found its place in her blonde curls. We all went inside and saw the whole team sitting around a coffee table with glasses of wine in their hands. JJ put her glass on the table and got up from her seat on the cushy leather couch to hug Y/N.
“You’re not one of mine, are you?” Rossi sipped his drink and eyed Y/N.
“Um, this is Y/N, my uh, my friend.” I stammered.
“Ah! You’re the doctor’s little lady friend I’ve heard so much about!” Rossi put his scotch down on the table and crossed the room to kiss her on both cheeks, “Lovely to meet you, bella, I’m—”
“David Rossi. Yes, Spencer’s told me about you. Nice to meet you,” she grinned, shaking his hand.
“Ah,” he scoffed, “call me Dave.”
“What? No fair!” Emily piped up, taking a big sip of wine, “You just met her and she gets ‘Dave’ privileges? I’ve worked with you for months!”
“Emily, look me in the eyes and try to call me Dave.” She looked at him and opened her mouth like she was about to say something, but she just took another sip while JJ and Morgan laughed at her.
Hotch flashed a rare smile to Y/N, “Good to see you again.”
“Yes! Glad it’s under better circumstances, Agent Hotchner.”
“Me too. And please,” he extended a hand to her, “call me Aaron.”
This time it was Morgan who spoke up, “No way! Only Rossi calls you by your first name!”
“And me,” Emily mumbled.
“And now Y/N, too.”
“I’m honored, Aaron.”
Looking at her face now all remaining anxiety had just about vanished. I told her she had nothing to worry about, and now she was finally listening to me. Rossi called us all to the kitchen where he told us to grab a plate so he could serve us before we sat down at the table. He gave us each a plate of his famous spaghetti carbonara before taking his seat at the head of the table. The team all chatted about their lives, as we ate. Hotch showed Y/N pictures of Jack on his phone, Emily probed JJ about Will, Morgan, and Rossi poked fun at me for bringing Y/N, but I just rolled my eyes and tried to ignore them. Plates were cleaned, stories were told, and wine bottles were emptied. Mostly by Emily and Y/N.
JJ was the one to try to cut them off, “Don’t you have to drive this one home?” She gestured to me.
She put her hands up defensively, “He picked me up.”
“Reid, you hate driving!” Garcia pointed out, prompting Morgan to spare a knowing glance to Rossi.
“You do?”
“I don’t hate it, I just prefer not to.” I was a profiler, but that didn’t mean I was a good liar.
“Spence, I offered to drive you.”
I shrugged, “I didn’t mind.”
Her eyes lingered on me for another moment before taking another sip of wine and resuming her conversation with Emily. I knew they’d get along. Towards the end of the night, Rossi proposed a toast.
“To familia.”
Y/N smiled, staying quiet.
“Oh, come on now, you too, bella.” He raised his glass to her and clinked the crystal, “You’re stuck with us now, get over it.”
“I’m not complaining, Dave.” Her words were to Rossi, but she never stopped looking at me. Probably just had a bit too much to drink.
Right?
Taglist~~~
Lmk if you wanna be added! Some names didn’t work so if you don’t see your name as a tag just dm me a url and I’ll try to fix it
@lawnmoa @ellvswriting @baby-pogue @rottenearly @confused-and-really-hungry @thatsonezesty13 @deni-gonzalez @irjuejjsaa @randomfandomshitposts @bisoner @moonstarrnghtsky @smurfflynn @eldahae @t0xicllama @undeniablyyou @staplernpaper @theweirdobella @sammypotato67 @k-k0129 @helloniallslovelies @dazzlingnights @uhuhuh @booksarekindaneat @crimeshowtrash
#spencer reid#spencer reid smut#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#Matthew Gray Gubler#matthew gray gubler fanfiction#matthew gray gubler imagine#matthew gray gubler smut#mgg imagine#mgg fanfiction#mgg smut#mgg x reader#mgg#cm imagine#cm fan fiction#cm#Criminal Minds#Criminal Minds Fanfiction#Criminal Minds Reid#criminal minds imagine
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Non, Je Ne Regrette Rien | Jimin
moodboard by the lovely and amazing @flajka, who was also my #1 helper and support through the torturous 10 month journey that this story was.
Pairing: Jimin / Reader
Rating: 18+
Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut, romcom
Warnings: explicit sex, slight exhibitionism (fingering, out in the open but not in public, boat sex, oral (f and m receiving) brief but gory painting description, a lot of cursing, Jimin will end you Word Count: 19k+ Summary: You keep meeting a handsome stranger in Paris. One coincidence after another leads to the most amazing trip of your life A/N: This shit took 10 months to write. Thank @flajka, Kehlani and Jimin’s sexy Paris photos. Spotify playlists for this fic are: 1 / 2 / 3 - I had to separate them because you can’t put Edith Piaf on the same playlist as Ace Of Base. Hope you enjoy!
Looking up from the screen of your phone, you blink once, twice, three times – you are not where you are supposed to be and Google maps are the stupidest invention ever.
It took you two hours to find your Airbnb apartment yesterday, all because Google maps were not quite user friendly. Not to mention that your sense of direction was utterly pathetic.
Yet despite all of that, you were absolutely positive that finding ‘Shakespeare and company’ would be an easy task – after all, you were so close to it, having just spent 10 minutes mourning the fact that the Notre-Dame was still very much unapproachable. From there to the bookstore, the route should have been easy to follow but alas, it was not. Somehow, you have managed to confuse yourself even further.
Looking around in place, you breathe a sigh of relief when you see the green doors and a sign that tells you that perhaps your sense of direction isn’t as bad as you think it is – ‘Shakespeare and Company’.
There it is, the bookstore with such rich history, one of your must-see places in Paris, something that the ‘Midnight in Paris’ lover in you had to tick off the list – there it is, right before you and very much closed. You check the time, finding that it is almost nine – a quick Google search, which is something you should have done before leaving your apartment – tells you that it opens up at half past nine.
You don’t have time, you absolutely don’t have time to sit around and wait for it to open. It’s going to take you some time to reach the 7th Arrondissement and once you do get there, two museums await. Wasting time, waiting for a bookstore to open is not a luxury you can afford right now.
Perhaps you will have time before you leave. After all, you still have a week to spend in the city of light and although your plans are pretty strict and well-organized, you are aware that some changes are bound to happen. But you will leave that for the last day – right now, you only have a few minutes of your life to offer to a closed bookstore.
As you take photos of the famed location, you recall the comments your mother made before you left, about how a young woman shouldn’t travel alone in a foreign country. She had a point – one shouldn’t travel alone if they want to have at least one photo of themselves on the memory card. It sucks a bit but you don’t let it dampen your mood – you don’t need photos to preserve the memories. A selfie stick was always an option but it was also beneath you – something you’ve decided when they first appeared.
“Is it closed?” a voice asks from behind you, making you jump a bit, as you weren’t aware that you had company. The man looking at you seems to be about your age and a tourist, if the camera around his neck is anything to go by. The brief once-over you give him lets you know he is also unnaturally attractive.
“Yeah,” you tell him, offering him a compassionate smile when you see his expression sour. “It should open soon though – about half an hour, if Google is correct.”
“Thanks for the info,” he smiles, before he lifts up his camera and starts taking photos. You realize that the chit-chat is over, so you resume taking photos as well. Just a few seconds later, his presence gave you an idea.
“Hey, would you mind taking a photo of me?” you ask sheepishly, smiling when he nods his head at once. “I’m travelling alone and I just want at least one photo of me in the folder, you know?”
“I can relate,” he chuckles as he takes the camera from you. “How do you want to take it? Casually touristy, right in front of it or artsy, with you looking up at the sign in awe?”
“Artsy,” he laughs at your immediate response, to which you simply shrug. “When will I be artsy if not in Paris?”
“Touché,” he agrees, before directing you so that he can take a decent shot. “Turn a bit to the left.”
A few seconds later, it’s his turn. After settling your own camera around your neck, you take his and take a few photos of him as he stands in the same spot you did, looking up at the sign in fake awe. This gives you a chance to properly look at him for the first time. He is indeed handsome, insanely so. Dark brown hair swept away from his face, insanely clear skin and a jaw that could cut right through glass. Looking right at him is almost blinding and you rush to take the photos.
“All done,” you smile as you return the camera to him. “I think you have a few decent shots there.”
“Thanks,” he smiles as you adjust your backpack, ready to take your leave – Shakespeare will have to enjoy your company some other day. “Enjoy the rest of Paris.”
“Yeah, you too,” you smile back at the man, mumbling under your breath as you leave because it serves you right to meet the most handsome man ever half-way across the world.
By the time you finally escape the Parisian metro, you are dead tired. Musée Rodin was just as beautiful as ‘Midnight in Paris’ made it seem to be. You’ve spent the good part of the morning roaming it’s gardens, before finally moving onto Les Invalides, which housed the tomb of the oh so great Napoleon Bonaparte. That was arguably less exciting than Musée Rodin, with you actually giving up on it completely as soon as you saw his tomb. The comments you thought of while admiring the size of the tomb and him obviously carrying his complexes into afterlife were left to you alone, making you chuckle at random times and earning a few curious looks from your fellow tourists.
Your tourist escapades ended at Champ de Mars, with an impromptu picnic which included sitting on your jacket and eating a marvelous French feast made up from pre-packaged Starbucks caramel macchiato and salt&vinegar chips – mmm, so French it hurts. Originally, you wanted to wait for the infamous light show to start but after just an hour, you have already given up and made your leave, hoping not to get lost in the metro yet again.
Luckily, you didn’t. You were so tired by the time you got to the place you rented in the outskirts of Paris that you barely had the energy to shower. And tomorrow, with Versailles being your top priority, your day was bound to be even more tiring.
You are fuming, absolutely fuming, wanting nothing more than to curse out loud and stomp on the ground. You have been tricked and that was just the drop that made the glass overflow.
You woke up with a massive headache and after forcing yourself to eat a bit, you could finally drink medication. By the time you were ready to leave your rental apartment, the timetable you made for today was already long forgotten – you’re at least an hour late.
But that isn’t a problem. It’s not even the ever confusing metro, because somehow, with a lot of help from locals, you’ve managed to figure out where you should wait for the right ride to Versailles. All of it was a bit stress inducing but definitely not a problem. The real problem occurred when you were in front of the magnificent golden gates, which you couldn’t even see because of the massive line.
Clutching your fast pass ticket, you approach a smaller line leading to the entrance, hoping and praying that you weren’t wasting your time waiting there instead of in the massive crowd, hoping that your fast pass can actually let you pass, fast.
You were mistaken. Apparently, every single human being waiting in the long ass line also had the fast pass ticket. How long do people without a fast pass have to wait is a question you don’t even want to know the answer to. With a few huffs and puffs, you took your place in line, annoyed at anything and everything, starting from the stupid agency who sold you this worthless ticket, right down to your best friend who suggested taking this trip together, only to bail on you to let her boyfriend take her to Ibiza.
As if all of that was not enough to ruin your mood, rain had started to fall, damping your clothes enough so that they match your mood. At least you were ready for it, having read up about the unpredictable early summer rains of Paris and making sure to never leave the apartment without your hideously yellow umbrella.
An hour and a half later, you finally put the damn fast pass into use and enter the extravagant home of some Louis – you’re not ashamed to admit to not know which one. After all, you were about to learn.
The inside of the magnificent palace left you with mixed emotions, in all honesty. On one hand, it truly is as grand and striking as you had always imagined it to be. On the other hand, the crowd was killing you. Teens running around and touching things they shouldn’t be touching, people looking at everything through the screen of their phones and cameras instead of actually looking… It all left you feeling a bit on edge and wishing you had a chance to attend a private tour or something. Knowing that you will probably experience the same thing later today in the Louvre wasn’t helping either.
Every time you would pass a window, you found yourself wanting to be outside and after an hour of torture and not being able to enjoy anything, you have finally given up – fuck the rain, fuck it all – most people are still inside to avoid the rain after all and you do have your trusted umbrella with you.
Stepping into the gardens of Versailles was the best decision you could have made and you regretted not making it sooner. There were very few people outside and even the light drizzle could not ruin the experience of such a beautiful place. It’s fascinating, really, to look from the balcony above and to not see the end to all the gardens, green labyrinths, with many fountains and statues placed at nearly every corner.
It was almost impossible for you to decide where to start, so you just decided to roam freely, with no end goal in mind. You don’t even bother with your camera much, once you reach the seemingly endless green maze. The view from higher ground is magnificent but as you walk around, all you see is green hedges, incredibly tall green hedges – a very literal maze of plants. The smell is comforting – a mixture of the familiar smell of rain and of plants – more specifically, grass.
You wander around, enjoying the peace and quiet. There are more people in the maze but they are far from you and compared to the crowd you were in just minutes ago, they are ignorable, unless they are heading directly in your direction.
You recognize him instantly – other than a few locals you’ve asked for directions, he is the only person you exchanged more than one sentence with – it’s the guy from ‘Shakespeare and Company’, walking towards you. Your fear of awkwardness makes you lower the umbrella so that you can pretend that you simply didn’t see him. You only lift the umbrella up when you see his feet walk by you.
It would be weird and awkward. What do you say to someone you recognize but don’t really know? Hey? What if he doesn’t remember you and you embarrass yourself for no good reason? No, this was completely ignorable, luckily for you.
You are not fast enough the second time. The next crossroad in the maze leaves you making eye contact with him, as he is standing parallel to you, with a solid distance in-between. Solid enough for you to still pretend you do not recognized him. The eye contact made you feel a bit uneasy because what if he remembers you too? The awkwardness you’ve wanted to avoid might have just doubled.
So you walk on, taking a left turn as soon as you find one, finding the first ‘hidden room’ of the maze and a breathtaking, extravagant fountain that all but begs for you to take photos of it. Consciously steering away from the direction he seemed to have been taking, you walk along.
Left, straight, left again, straight, a bit to the right – you even manage to lose track of your surroundings, hoping that you are heading towards the gigantic fountain you’ve seen from the upper balcony.
Yet somehow, you still manage to see him again and much to your dismay, make direct eye contact. He is standing parallel from you and before you turned around and started walking, you could see what looked like mild confusion on his face.
Crap. He must have recognized you to a certain extent and now you’re making it painfully obvious that you are running away from him. For no good reason, too. You could have simply said “Oh hey, I remember you from yesterday, enjoy Versailles” or something along that line and made your exit but no, god no, you just had to make a fool of yourself.
You’ve never taken pride in your title of awkward social potato and this little mishap has to rank pretty high on your list of embarrassing moments. Sure, weird eye contact isn’t that big of a deal but the fact that it could have been easily avoid it and wasn’t only makes it 10 times worse.
Surprisingly enough, as soon as you realize that you’re being ridiculous, you have a chance for a do-over.
By the time you’ve reached the grand fountain, with a very confusing yet majestic statue of horses in the middle of it, you see him again, standing right on the edge of it, luckily not looking your way. Once again you are reminded of just how good looking he is and it’s not helping you with what you are about to do, since insanely attractive men tend to make you nervous and tongue tied.
“Well, at least the Versailles was open,” you try to sound as casual as possible as you stand a few feet away from him, watching as confusion disappears from his face as he puts two and two together.
“I thought I recognized you,” he laughs and you realize that his laughter is as melodic as his voice. Damn him. “They opened yesterday minutes after you left,” he tells you and to that you shrug.
“Nine days in Paris aren’t enough – I had museums to see,” you tell him, watching as he nods in understanding, still smiling at you. “I hope you enjoyed it, though.”
“I did,” he tells you. “Since you’re here, would you mind taking a photo of me?” he sounds as sheepish as you did yesterday. “You’re the only stranger I’d trust with my camera,” he adds. He makes a simple sentence like that hit you like a full force flirt and by the time you actually take the camera from his hands, you are positive you are blushing.
You take a few photos of him, his insanely good profile in particular, hoping that you are not drooling all over yourself. “Return the favor?” you ask, lifting your own camera, to which he laughs and extends his hand to you.
Posing is always awkward, period. Posing to a hot stranger is borderline traumatic. You do it anyways, looking away from the camera because you’ve had enough “eye contact” with him to last you a lifetime. Awkwardly standing in front of him, you wait as he checks the photos before smiling up at you and offering the camera back to you. “Perfect.”
“Thanks. Enjoy the rest of Versailles,” you casually announce your departure, feeling relieved and regretful at the same time as you walk away from him, backwards. In all honesty, the kind smile on your face made you want to stick around for a while longer.
“Thanks, you too.”
You turn around and walk away, taking a deep breath to relax yourself. The Louvre awaits – hot strangers will have their turn some other time.
Four days in Paris were enough for you to start your own list of unpopular, maybe even popular, opinions about the city. You were always interested in the city but never obsessed with it, like many are, so you’d say that your opinions are unbiased, at least to a certain extent.
For example, Parisians are nice and they actually do make an effort to speak English if you ask them something. Of course, not everyone has the same experience but the urban myth of them being condescending, rude and downright ignoring people who speak English was proven to be false.
Yes, the city is gorgeous but it has so much to offer beside a fairly tall tower.
And last, but certainly not least – the Louvre is overrated.
After waiting in rain, again (not the museum’s fault, obviously), you finally got inside, only to proceed and get lost four times. Actual four times, you had no idea where you were and where you were supposed to go next. You were nearly trampled in front of the Mona Lisa, all while watching in shock as the people were pushing each other to try and take a selfie with the iconic painting behind them. That was the first instance when you thought how much you hate people. The next one was when you saw a grown adult, a man in his 30s, grabbing an antique Greek statue by the balls.
It was at that point that the museum walking became torture to you. Paired with its confusing layout and the employees who either truly had no idea how to help you or simply didn’t want to bother with helping a pesky tourist, you ended up wandering aimlessly, looking at everything and nothing at all, wondering how much it would cost to get an exclusive, chaperoned, after-hours tour of the Louvre. Probably too much for someone who’s keeping cheap ramen in their rented apartment.
Muse d’Orsay, your present location, is something else entirely. It is painfully obvious that at least a third of the yesterday’s crowd only went to the Luvre because someone told them they should, you overheard a few say as much, and compared to that, the visitors of Muse d’Orsay came here on their own accord. It is decently full, but not crowded. The only place where you actually had to wait in line was in front of Van Gogh’s artwork, which was to be expected.
The entire place is casual, yet sophisticated, far less confusing compared to the gigantic mess that is The Louvre. You can take your time and go wherever, without having to consult a map and pray that you’re not confusing yourself even further. You can also sit and relax for a little while, which is something your tired feet are extremely grateful for but in a very unusual way, the people around you are making you feel uncomfortable. Most of them are casually sitting and sketching the gigantic clock, the centerpiece of Muse d’Orsay and while observing that is beautiful, it also remindes you that you are, to put it nicely, talentless in the same field.
So you keep on roaming, until you find your place on a bench set before an enormous painting. Definitely three times, if not four, your height, The Women of Gaul has your full attention. The piece is as eerie and hauntingly beautiful as it is confusing – like many times over the last couple of days, you’re not sure where to look first. What catches your attention, bizarrely, is the center character – a woman, standing tall and proud with an angry look on her face and holding a dead baby by the arm.
It appears as if she has killed the baby on her own accord – she’d rather lose everything she has than surrender. Admirable and scary at the same time. With all due respect to the masterpiece, she looks ready to bitchslap some soldiers.
“We meet again, stranger,” you only realize someone is talking to you when they sit a few feet away from you and you nearly choke on dry air when you realize it’s him – the Shakespeare guy, the Versailles guy, your unofficial photographer, in all of his ripped jeans glory.
“Wow,” you laugh. How big is Paris? How many people live here, how many tourists roam the streets every day? And yet three days in a row, you see him. “We keep bumping into each other.”
“Looks like our travel itineraries keep overlapping,” he chuckles. “I’m Jimin, by the way,” he adds, before the silence turns awkward. “It’s nice to officially meet you,” he offers you his hand, which you accept instantly.
“Y/N,” you shake his hand. “So, how’s Paris working out for you?”
“I love it,” he admits, looking away from you to focus on the much less friendlier woman in the painting in front of you. “I like it more than I thought I would, in all honesty.”
“Same here,” you admit, finding it quite easy to talk to him, given that you are usually definitely more apprehensive when it comes to people you don’t know. But hey, you know his name now – that counts, right? “From word of mouth alone, I thought it was a bit overrated but it has its charms. Plenty of them, actually.”
“Museums or city streets?” he asks, turning to look at you again. He has striking, dark eyes that have no trouble looking directly at yours – you, on the other hand, swallow a lump. “Which do you enjoy more?”
“A bit of both, depends on the day,” you sound way more casual than you feel. “You?”
“City streets,” he answers, focusing on the painting again. “Art is amazing but art is art, wherever you are. While cities… they’re all different. Each city has its own thing and as much as I enjoy looking at artwork, I’d rather pick… exploring the city, breathing it in. Polluted air and all.”
“Makes sense,” you agree, knowing just how right he is. A museum is a museum, whether it’s in Paris or the tiniest of towns. It’s fascinating but it’s still a building with four walls and a roof – outside, the streets, the people, the charm distinct to each city – that’s where all the fun is at.
“Have you seen the impressionism area?” he asks.
“Not yet, why?”
“Me neither,” he laughs, confusing you a bit. “Travelling alone is fun but at times it can get painfully dull. I thought maybe you’d want to look around the museum a bit more and then we can go somewhere?”
Oh. Okay. He wants your company. Surprising, yet flattering.
“I’d love to,” you find yourself answering, ignoring all the possible red flags you probably should have not ignored – after all, this is fairly similar to the plot of Taken, and you don’t have a Liam Neeson waiting to rescue you. Mr. Ripped Jeans Jimin has a point – travelling alone can be very dull. With how the two of you have been running into each other for days now, it seems like the universe wants you to have someone to talk to for a while. “Anywhere you’d like to go in particular?”
“Montmartre?” he suggests after considering your question for a few seconds. “The stairs in front of Sacré-Cœur are always a good idea?”
He isn’t wrong - Sacré-Cœur is very much on your bucket list – scheduled for tomorrow, right on time to see the sunset. But at the same time, you have no specific plans for this afternoon and Jimin does seem like he could be good company.
Why not?
“Sounds like a plan,” you agree, feeling a metaphorical punch to your gut when his face lights up once you agree with his idea. “Let’s see those impressionists first, shall we?”
The language barrier is quite something. Despite knowing a few basic French words and phrases, your pronunciation is so damn tragic, no transaction was possible without the use of English and sometimes, like right now, lots of waving and pointing.
Jimin was looking at you in amusement while you desperately tried to explain that you need one chocolate croissant. By the point the lady behind the counter understood what you wanted, you were more than happy to leave with whatever the hell she’d give you, even if it’s not your precious croissant.
“Do you want something? Are you hungry?” you ask, wanting to treat him to some food since he insisted on paying for the bottle of wine that is currently in his backpack.
He nods, proceeding to speak to state his order in what sounds like fluent French. “I got some for you too,” he tells you as he elegantly stands in front of you, taking out his wallet and smiling as he sees that you are about to protest. “No way,” he shakes his head. “I’m paying – I ordered more. Besides, if you are buying the chocolate croissant, you obviously have no idea what you’re doing.”
A comment like that could have sounded extremely condescending coming from anyone else, but from Jimin, with his kind smile? No way. “You did not just diss a chocolate croissant!”
“Oh, yes I did,” he chuckles as he rushes to offer money before you can – defeated, but a little glad, you return your wallet into the bag, thinking how maybe you will treat yourself to more than instant ramen for your lunch tomorrow. “I love chocolate as much as the next guy but the raisin one? Hell, even the plain one – much better,” he tells as he takes the bag and exits the bakery, leaving you to follow him.
“I’m all for experimenting but come on – it’s a chocolate croissant. It can’t be bad.”
“I’ve never said it was bad,” he laughs at you as you finally catch up with him and the two of you walk side by side. “I’ve just said others were better, which you will confirm once you try them. Now – do we walk or do we waste money on the lift?”
How can a question so simple be so complicated? Your feet hurt, you’ve walked more since you landed in Paris than you have the whole last month – of course you want to take the lift and avoid unnecessary stairs. On the other hand, stairs pretty much guarantee that you will have more time to spend with Jimin and so far, he’s been a decent companion.
“How about… we take the lift to go up and we walk on our way down?” you suggest.
“Deal.”
He didn’t have a chance to see Montmarte either, he tells you on your way up. Much like you, he had a schedule and he kept to it. Until today, when he spontaneously dropped his plans and invited you to spend the rest of the day with him. You did not have solid plans to begin with, so it wasn’t much of a change, save from the fact that you were in good company.
And good company he was – surprisingly, there weren’t many moments of awkward silence as the two of you tried to find a place that fits you both – that was a challenge, seeing as many people have gathered to enjoy the view, a nice drink and an impromptu performance by buskers. In the corner of the stairs, a little bit away from the crowd, the two of you sit and it’s a matter of seconds before Jimin is opening the bottle of wine with a swiss knife he pulled out of his bag – a bag that looks like it costs more than your monthly rent – not that you were paying any attention to it.
“So…” he starts, pausing to smile at you as he gives you your cup, before moving on to fill his own. “Tell me something about yourself. I only know your name and that we live in the same city.”
“And yet somehow we’ve met on a different continent,” you add, smiling when he ‘clinks’ his plastic cup against yours. “What would you like to know?”
“Anything,” he shrugs, nodding in approval at the taste of the wine. “Why Paris? Why alone? What’s your favorite color? An actor you hate but can’t explain why? Tell me anything.”
“Why Paris? Why not Paris? There are so many places I want to see, cities I want to explore and it all had to start somewhere. My friend had wanted to see Paris while I was pretty much up for anything. Of course, she then decided that Ibiza with her boytoy sounds like a better idea than Paris with her friend,” you add, sounding just a little bitter. It’s not the nicest thing she has done but you’ll get over it.
“And your boyfriend was not interested in the beauty of France?”
Now you are confused. His raised eyebrow and tiny, barely there smile, tell you that he is absolutely asking about your boyfriend for no other reason but to confirm whether or not you have one. However, this wouldn’t be the first time for you to completely misread signs and confuse flirting with casual conversation. You decide to play it safe and not waste time on reading between the lines.
“Don’t have one,” you shrug, looking away from him and focusing on the buskers. “It does get quite boring after a while. It would be nice to have a travel partner.”
“And if you don’t, you can always ask a random, kind stranger to take your photos for you?” you join in on his laugh, glad that you spoke up that day in front of ‘Shakespeare and Company’. If you hadn’t, chances are you wouldn’t have a conversation in Versailles, which then would not continue today.
If he can do it, so can you – the can of worms is wide open. “And what does your girlfriend say about you traveling without her?” you asks, before backtracking quickly. “Or boyfriend. Or one of each, really,” you add, making him laugh.
God, there really is no smooth way to ask about the relationship status of someone you barely know, someone you’re not even completely sure you like. If two are at a club, where the music is loud and they can’t even keep a conversation, ‘are you single’ is completely acceptable. And that setting is perfect for a rejection – if they say no, you just dance away to your drink or to the next person.
This? It’s a warm day in Paris and you are surrounded by people of all ages, families even. You have been talking about the city, travelling, art and now what, ‘are you single’ or ‘would you be interested in sleeping with me’ is the next topic of conversation? No, it doesn’t work that way. Especially when you’re not even sure what you want, much less what he wants.
“Well, I don’t have either of the two so I can’t really answer that,” is that a hint of a smirk you see on his face? Okay, you may not be a champion at flirting but it looks like things are heading that way.
“Interesting,” you mumble, earning an eyebrow raise from him. Shit. You panic and focus on the plastic cup full of wine, hoping that if you drink enough of it fast, the blush that is taking over your face can be attributed to the alcohol. It doesn’t help – you move the cup away and meet his eyes, only to find him obviously waiting for you to explain your comment.
“Are you going to explain why that’s interesting on your own or should I ask about it and force you to elaborate?” he asks and you immediately turn to your cup, making him laugh, loudly, in a way that makes his eyes crinkle and his whole body move.
“I’m awkward, please don’t make it any worse,” you tell him, a part of you hoping he won’t hear you.
“As you wish,” he is still laughing and you still want to die of embarrassment. That being said, him teasing you is a good sign, you think. Now, you’re fairly certain that you absolutely are in the flirting territory and while that doesn’t make things easier for you one bit, at least now you know you perhaps won’t make a fool of yourself if you are more straightforward. Or maybe you will. Who knows?! “Y/N, do you believe in destiny?” he asks and while you’re glad the topic is changed… really?
“That’s such a broad question,” you chuckle, pausing to think about it for a second. “I suppose I do, but you’re going to have to be a bit more specific than that. What kind of destiny?”
“Okay… first, do you believe that it’s all planned out? Like, your entire life?” he asks.
“Hardly,” you answer immediately, having thought about that already, many times in your life. “I suppose that to a certain extent, it is destiny. Like… the situations that you will be put in. But your reactions to said situations are your own. Destiny can’t control how you, or the people in your life, react to something. So I guess… no?” you try to sum it up, laughing at your own rant.
“Makes sense,” he agrees as he leans back, now almost lying down on the staircase, propped on his elbow as he looks away from you and towards the magnificent view of Paris. You realize once again that he looks like a full course meal, skinny jeans and all, and you reach for your plastic cup for solace, again. “Some things are set in stone… like where you’re born, who your parents are, maybe even who you’re going to be in life. But not the tiny details… like what kind of friend you are, if you can cook or not, who will be your first kiss and so on… Is that what you meant?” he asks, suddenly turning his eyes on you and faced with them, you nearly choke on the drink you’ve been hiding behind.
Damn him and his eyes. And his smirk. And yes, his ripped skinny jeans too.
“Yeah, something like that.”
“And what about us?” he asks, smirking your way again. “We’ve been running into each other all over Paris… that’s why I thought that there has to be a reason behind it… don’t you agree?”
“Could be,” you agree, knowing that no matter how skeptical you might be about the concept of destiny, even you have to admit that the amount of times the two of you have crossed paths this week is something unusual. “You think it was destined for two of us to meet and hang out on these stairs?”
“Why not?” he laughs, sensing the trace of skepticism behind your words, even though you mostly agreed with him. “I can accept that not every cute girl I meet is destiny playing its tune but we couldn’t have avoided each other even if we tried, could we?”
You’re cute. Okay. You can live with that. You can definitely live with that.
“What else does destiny want us to do?”
You’ll admit it, you feel bolder now, knowing how shamelessly he had admitted that he obviously thinks you’re cute. Sure, you’re not nearly as bold as you wish you were but… step by step?
“Well, there’s this party down at the 8th Arrondissement that I thought of going to. Nothing huge, just a regular club. We don’t have to, if you don’t feel like partying. If you do, we can sit here for a while longer and then take a cab down there or something?” he suggests.
First he thinks you’re cute. Then he wants you to go clubbing. Sure, he isn’t hitting on you per se, but he obviously wants to spend more time with you and knowing that makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery. Maybe it’s the butterflies that you’re feeling now, after ages of them being MIA, maybe it’s the way Jimin looks at you, with the tiniest of smirks gracing his face, or maybe it’s just Jimin himself – you’re not sure and frankly, it doesn’t matter. Bottom line is, he wants to spend more time with you and despite you not really giving a shit about destiny, you do want to spend more time with him too.
“Sounds like a good idea.”
And then he goes and bites his lip, mid-smile.
Yeah, there’s no way in hell you’ll survive clubbing with him. But you’ll be damned if you don’t try.
It didn’t take you long to realize that Jimin is a piece of work, in the best ways.
He is confident when approaching strangers, whether it was you, earlier today, or a random person to ask if the two of you could join their table. He can handle his drink and he does, in fact, drink quite a bit. His behavior doesn’t change – he’s still smiley, friendly, his words never slurring, his walk as perfect and sexy as it was when he was 100% sober – the only real change in his appearance is that three tequila shots in, he’s red in the face.
You? You’ve stopped drinking one shot ago, not wanting to push yourself into the state of ‘please fuck me in the alley behind this park, Mr. Stranger’ because you do tend to turn clingy after drinking a bit too much. No, this time around, you’ve kept yourself tipsy enough to throw away some inhibitions but sober enough to not jump on the guy in the middle of a crowded club.
And lord almighty, it is crowded.
You would have never thought that Parisians and a couple of tourists would be this into 90s trash music but here you are, dancing the night away with a hot as hell stranger to the tune of ‘Be My Lover’. You’ve been dancing nonstop for what feels like hours, the only break happening when he goes to the bar to get the two of you drinks and you take that chance to lean against the wall to catch your breath.
You want to chastise yourself for trusting a stranger with your drink but after debating it while you were still sober, you’ve come to the conclusion that you’re going to trust said stranger.
Taking a deep breath, you rummage through your bag, trying to find something to cool yourself down with, settling for a brochure you had picked up in Musée d'Orsay earlier today. You fan yourself, staying comfortably away from the crowd that’s dancing like their life depends on it.
It’s hot, it’s crowded, you’re tipsy and if you’re being completely honest, you’re turned on. Yes, in a tiny, dark, hole of a club, with a 90s eurodance song in Spanish blasting through the speakers, you can still manage to feel that way and it’s solely because of him.
For the past two hours, he has been flirting with you in ways that make you wonder if he’s actually flirting of he’s a hallucination of your deranged mind.
He hasn’t stopped touching you all night, but he does so in ways that are not… obvious. He holds your hand while you are walking through the crowd. He puts his hands on your waist while you’re dancing, but they’re positioned in a way that makes you think he just enjoys having a dance partner, not that he wants to fuck your brains out. He is close, but not close enough to make you wonder if maybe, just maybe, he wants to kiss you. It’s driving you insane and you’re feeling hot – literally and metaphorically.
The song changed to something a bit more bearable for listening, but still trashy enough, when you finally felt your body relaxing and calming down after the onslaught of senses it has been through in the last two hours. However, the moment you think you’ll manage to cool your head, you see him.
It’s not that he is hot. Sure, he is hot as hell and nice on the eyes, which is something you see others noticing, as they turn their heads while he walks past them, drinks in hand. It’s not that he is so damn charming, although that plays a part too. What’s really getting to you is simply the way he looks at you.
Even now, in the crowd, as he makes his way to your little makeshift hideaway, his eyes are directly on you. He’s not even paying attention on if he’s spilling your drinks or not – nope, he is looking right at you. And despite the feeling of panic that causes, you can’t look away. You can’t hide from it, you can’t fight it – you just have to keep eye contact with him, even though you feel like weak prey.
You’d lie if you say that there weren’t moments when his eyes would look… elsewhere. Your lips, your neck or at the tiny trace of cleavage your shirt lets him see (is that one a blessing or a curse?)… That you could deal with, as much as you were figuratively on fire. But a man with confidence to look you directly in the eyes, all the time? Yeah, you’ve kind of wanted die.
Especially now, with him sliding through the cracks between people, smiling your way, eyes burning into yours. With mere seconds to get yourself ready for him, you take a deep breath, thanking your lucky stars that he looked away, enough to put your drinks on the table next to you.
“I know you didn’t want anything, but I got you a cocktail in case you change your mind later,” he tells you and the only reason you actually understand every word he is saying is because you are staring at his lips. The music is loud, loud enough to make you want to come closer to him and ask him to repeat his words but at this point, you are a certified lip reader because good god, his lips.
“That’s okay.”
You wanted to say more, you really did, but the moment he put those drinks down, his hands were on your waist and he was close now, closer than he was before, with just an inch of space between your face and his. And even this close, even with a damn inch between the two of you, he stares into your eyes, directly into your eyes, as if he knows what he’s doing to you. And frankly, he most likely does.
“Let’s dance, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
You let him take you down into the crowd again, not even noticing the loss of your precious brochure you’ve used as a makeshift fan. You let him stay close to you and you let him keep his hands on you at all times. You let him take over your entire mind, knowing that at this point, you can’t think of anything that isn’t him.
Where? Where are guys like these? Where are guys who are confident, funny, charming and sexy, without trying to get into your pants like desperate teenagers? He has the right amount of everything and a part of you wonders where are others like him? But with him in front of you, directly in front of you, with barely an inch of thin air between you, does it really matter?
You’ve given up, totally and completely. You let him eat you up with his eyes, sway your hips to the beats of bad music in any direction he wants, smiling back at him when he smiles at you.
He is closer now, even closer than before, your noses brushing against each other every other moment. He is closer and you feel like you’re going to faint if he doesn’t do something, anything really.
It’s a weird feeling to describe. You don’t know what you want but you want it, bad. And while in theory, it would be easy to take the last step and just kiss him, you can’t do it. What’s stopping you – you don’t know, you really don’t. Yes, he hasn’t explicitly said that he wants you to do anything but his actions speak enough on their own. You could close the space between the two of you and end the misery but you can’t. Something is stopping you and at this point, it feels suffocating.
All of it. Him, the crowd, the sweaty bodies all around you – it’s too much. You need fresh air. Right now.
“What time is it?” you yell at him and you can see he’s surprised – you’ve mostly been quiet, overcome with everything else to form rational thoughts. Not only that, but you’re asking about time, of all things.
“Almost 1:30AM,” he tells you, after glancing on his wristwatch, before returning the hand back on your waist. “Why? Do you want to leave?” he asks and for one second, one damn second, you see a trace of something other than pure confidence on his face. It’s not insecurity or worry, not even disappointment. It looks like a mix of all three and something else, but it’s all very faint and lasts for barely a second before he smiles at you. “It’s okay if you do. Truly.”
“It’s not that I want to leave,” you mumble, before remembering you’re in a damn club. So, you close the space between the two of you and put your lips to his ear, brushing his skin as you speak. “It’s not that I want to leave. But I need some fresh air. We can come back if you want to.”
“You want me to go with you?” he asks as you pull away and you nod. “You sure?” he asks, looking at you with worry in his eyes. He’s questioning it, if only a little bit, probably worried that you’re running away and he’s being pushy. Which isn’t the truth. You are running away, but not from him, not exactly.
“Yes,” you laugh, taking his hand, as if to show that you mean it. He smiles back at you and leads the way. You think he’d go back to your borrowed table, so that he can finish his drink but he doesn’t seem to care. Instead, he leads the way to the area where you left your bags in exchange for 5 euros.
Seeing as you are the only ones leaving this early, the exchange for your stuff is quick and by the time you are breathing in the cool Paris air, it hasn’t been more than a few minutes since you’ve expressed your desire to leave. And the cool air helps. Well, it’s either the cool air or the fact that Jimin isn’t attached to you at this moment. With a bit of distance between you, you can actually use your brain.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he watches you take deep breaths. “We can walk it off if you’ve had too much to drink? I can walk you back to your place if you want to leave?” he suggests.
“No,” you smile at him, feeling a little bit overwhelmed by how helpful he is, as well as worried. “I’m not wasted. I don’t even know if I’m tipsy anymore,” you tell him. Sure, you might not be tipsy from the alcohol but he is a different story – you are very much drunk on him. But you won’t tell him that. “I just needed a bit of air. Maybe we can walk? Then come back or something?”
“Sure, yeah,” he nods and you lead the way. “You know, we don’t have to come back here because of me. I’m perfectly fine with just walking around. We can go somewhere else or find a bench to sit on. I can call a cab for you if you want to go back to your place.”
“I’m enjoying tonight very much,” you reassure him. There are… so many other things that you’d like to say, about him and the way he makes you feel, but you just… don’t have the balls to do so. So you simply settle with reassuring him that you’re enjoying the night. “Let’s just walk around and then figure out what we want to do next. The same goes for you – I’m fine with doing whatever you want to do.”
“You know, the last light show of the night is at 2AM,” he tells you, glancing at his watch quickly. “We can still catch it, if you’d like to. Maybe we even have time to go to the tower itself but we can definitely make it to Trocadéro on time?” he suggests and even though you normally refuse to be such a basic tourist, a huge part of you is excited at the thought of seeing the tower light up.
“I haven’t seen it yet. You want to go?” you ask, continuing with the tradition he had started of questioning everything for whatever reason.
“Sure, let’s go.”
There are people roaming around the area – of course there are, it’s Paris, there are tourists in every nook and cranny of the damn city. However, the numbers are smaller than they were when you went here the other day. You were definitely not alone but you did manage to find a section of the fence where no one was waiting with their cameras ready. Which is exactly what the two of you are doing now, waiting to capture the perfect moment of the tower lighting up.
You’ve been fairly quiet since you’ve left the club but it wasn’t the negative kind of silence, not at all. It was the silence that comes after a slightly overwhelming moment. You’re not sure if Jimin feels the same and if he does, he sure didn’t show it, but he was quiet along with you, speaking up only when you do, smiling your way whenever you’ve felt brave enough to make direct eye contact. It was comfortable and it made you realize just how much you have let this total stranger get under your skin.
“Doesn’t this feel a bit like the New Year’s countdown?” you ask, adjusting your camera so that the tower is right in the center of it – as much as Jimin is overwhelming, you still want to capture a decent photograph. It’s a once in a lifetime event. At least for us, non-Parisian commoners.
“It does,” he chuckles. “Ah, here we go!”
It’s impossible not to laugh at all the sighs of wonder you hear coming from around you. Yes, it’s a beautiful sight but… come on! It’s not a natural phenomenon; it’s a tower with lights on it! You sense Jimin reacting to it the same way you do, laughing a bit at the amazement of everyone around you but still taking a photo and enjoying the moment.
“Wait, let me take a photo of you,” he tells you and to your surprise, he doesn’t ask for your camera – he simply steps back with his. You don’t say anything and you try not to think too much of it but at the very least you are now expecting an exchange of social media or emails, knowing that you now have a perfect excuse of contacting him. Unable to hide a smile at the realization, you try to strike a casual pose, all while feeling like a complete idiot because he is looking at you again. “Wait,” he suddenly says and walks back up to you, reaching his hand closer to your face. “May I?”
You nod, not even sure what exactly you’re agreeing to here. Gently, he runs his hand through your hair, similar to the way he runs it through his own hair a few times a minute, messing it up a little bit. You don’t exactly have a mirror on you right now, but you imagine it’s the cute kind of messy, not the messy kind of messy. Why would he want you to look like shit for the photo? So, you let him, trying to ignore the way your pulse races because of him being so close. “There,” he steps away from you, smiling.
“Messy enough?” you joke, laughing when he does.
“It’s not messy, it’s sexy,” he tells you and yeah, your stupid heart is in overdrive, the butterflies in your stomach wilding and your face absolutely blushing. “It’s cute, natural. It’s more you than the preppy pose you’ve just tried to pull off,” and now he kind of insulted you.
“Hey!” you snap back, unable to keep a straight face when he starts laughing again. “You’ve known me for a few hours, how do you know preppy poses aren’t my thing?”
“I just know,” he shrugs. “Now act natural. Smile.”
You wanted to fight him back in a passive aggressive way and remain preppy but you just can’t – not with him making you smile. So you smile and giggle, pretending like he doesn’t have a camera in front of his face. If he wants you to be natural, you’re going to be natural.
After a few shots, he moves the camera away from his face and gives you the most blinding smile he had given you so far.
“Your turn,” you order him, unsure how you can even talk anymore. You feel like jelly on the inside and it’s actually quite worrying, seeing as you haven’t felt like this many times in your life. Of course, you liked people, you dated people, hell you’ve even loved a guy or two! But god good, they’re not Jimin. The guy has it all and all of it is affecting you in ways you didn’t know you could be affected.
You swallow a few lumps as you try to focus on the tower too, and not just him, because yes, it kind of needs to be in the picture too and that is the whole point of this, isn’t it? It takes you a few tries but you end up with a good shot. No matter how tonight ends, you’ll have a palpable memory of Jimin saved in your camera and you’d be lying to yourself if you say that doesn’t make you feel a bit more at ease.
“How can something be so tacky and so breathtakingly beautiful at the same time?” you ask while walking back towards the fence, letting the camera dangle around your neck as you stand next to Jimin.
“It really is amazing, isn’t it?” he chuckles. This time around, you are the one shamelessly staring – he is too preoccupied with looking at the tower. “I don’t know what it is. I don’t know if it’s Paris, or just tonight or maybe even you, but everything feels so… I don’t know, honestly,” he laughs, shaking his head as if he’s in disbelief. “I guess I’m just… really enjoying tonight.”
Here he is, this… beautiful, hot, kind, charming stranger, right next to you. Just a few days ago, he was no more than a fellow tourist. Just a few days ago, you didn’t think much of him. Today was a different story. Today, he didn’t let you push him into the back of your mind. Today he had made himself the focus of your day, night and quite frankly, this whole damn trip.
You don’t have to see him ever again if you don’t want to. If destiny keeps messing with you, you might run into him back home but by then, enough time would have passed for you to be able to keep your cool. If it goes good… it’ll go good. And if it goes bad, you can go back to pretending like none of this ever happened, and that your whole Parisian escapade was not Jimin centric. It might be easier said than done but you’re a tough cookie. You can do it.
Why not go for it? Seriously Y/N, why not go for it?
So you do.
You step closer to him and reach your hand out, putting it on his cheek and turning him to face you – he doesn’t have enough time to react properly but you can see the flash of surprise on his face. There is no time for him to say or do anything, because you lean in and press your lips to his.
Fuck it. Seriously, just fuck it. You’re here, he’s here and with doing practically nothing, he’d made you feel more than you’ve felt in months. As tacky as it is, you truly do only live once and you know yourself well enough to know you’d end up regretting not doing this.
You might regret it anyways, who knows. But you’d eat yourself away if you hadn’t gone for it.
You’d be lying if you said that the kiss is magical. Really, it’s awkward. Your lips are not much in comparison to his beautifully plump ones and while that could be overpowering, he technically isn’t moving. What you thought would be a kiss that would rock your world, ends up being nothing more than one slightly longer peck because he isn’t moving.
You can feel it – you’ve fucked up. You went for it and in hindsight, you shouldn’t have. Feeling absolutely mortified by his lack of response, you pull away, feeling even worse when you see the way he’s looking at you – no awe, no surprise, no excitement. He doesn’t look pissed either, or confused. It’s difficult to describe it but he’s almost… scowling at you.
You’ve fucked it up. But that’s okay. At least you won’t wonder about the ‘what ifs’.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble, looking away from him quickly. As much as you’re trying to reassure yourself that it’s better to know than to wonder, you’re absolutely dying on the inside. If there’s a hole near here in which you could hide, right this second, you’d go there. Alas, you’re out in the open and have to deal with the mess you’ve made. “I guess I’ve misread the signals. I-“
With his hand on your back, he pulls you smack into his chest, not leaving any room between the two of you whatsoever. All that you see is him leaning into you with his eyes closed.
It’s not a peck – it’s anything but a peck. His lips guide yours to open and not even a second later, you feel his tongue moving against yours. He pulls you even closer to him, your bodies practically stuck together, with your hands squished between you. You feel him run his other hand through your hair, turning your head a bit towards the side so that he can have more access to you, as if he hadn’t had enough to begin with. His tongue is relentless and you’re absolutely sure that you’re about to faint, knees barely managing to keep your body standing.
You have never been kissed like this. Definitely not in public.
He pulls away slowly, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth as he goes. He’s not scowling like he was moments ago, but he’s also not the cute, smiley Jimin he was for the better part of the day.
And you? You’re honestly struggling to breathe. A kiss is a surprise itself but a kiss like that is not something that’s easy to survive. You’re well aware that you’re practically panting because of him but it’s hardly something you can hide. You’re affected and you’re going to be affected, no matter how embarrassed you are about it.
“If you’re going to kiss me,” his voice is low, much lower than before and it’s not helping your situation at all. “You should kiss me like you mean it.”
Fuck everything.
You grab his shirt and pull him towards you once again.
Life works in mysterious ways. Just this morning, you were a regular tourist, doing regular tourist things, sticking to your itinerary as you try to cram all of Paris into one week. And now? Now you’re pressed up against a wall of a random building in a part of town you haven’t ventured into before, making out with the hottest guy you have ever met, who is also pretty much still a stranger.
You don’t even care about how uncomfortable you are in this position – him kissing you makes it all better, very literally. He is a marvelous kisser – hungry, but not overpowering, with lips for days. He smells of cologne you have never smelt before but somehow know you won’t be able to forget anytime soon. Even the soft cotton of his white shirt that your hand is digging into feels heavenly.
Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. All you can focus on is Jimin, to the point of even almost managing to ignore a whistle directed towards the two of you.
You’ve had it coming, really – almost dry humping in the middle of the street. When Jimin starts to pull away, probably because of the wolf whistle, you still chase after him, desperately trying to keep your lips stuck together. He still moves away but not too far – he nuzzles into your neck, leaving you gasping for air at the feel of his lips attacking your neck.
Is it too far? Maybe. But too far is the exact direction in which you want to go.
“Do you want to go somewhere?” you suggest. You’ve never directly propositioned sex to someone you weren’t in a relationship with and while you were internally panicking, you also know he probably won’t refuse you. Unless the thing you’re feeling against your thigh is his phone and not him being happy to see you. “My airnbn is a bit far but we can go there?” you suggest, not wanting to be too direct and invite yourself to his place. Honestly, you’d even go into a public toilet at this point, but you’ll keep that bit of information to yourself.
He doesn’t respond immediately and you would have worried about it, if he wasn’t preoccupied with biting your neck, with enough force to leave marks and make you want to crumble. You shudder, actually shudder with pleasure as you feel his tongue run over your skin. “The place I’m staying at is just a few minutes away,” he finally speaks up, stepping away from you for the first time in what feels like forever. “Do you want to go there?” he asks.
The way he looks at you tells you he’s asking you more than to just go over to the place he’s staying at. You know it, he knows it. Even though it was your suggestion, he is still checking in with you, despite probably already knowing that you’d agree to pretty much anything. You laugh at his question.
“Jimin… I’m… I’m more than fine with going to your place, yeah,” you settled for that. Letting him know that you’d let him fuck you in the middle of the street, right here, right now, might be a bit too forward of you. Incredibly accurate but perhaps too forward.
The beaming smile you get from him when you agree serves like a confirmation to yourself that no, this is absolutely not a bad idea. This is everything you’ve hoped for but didn’t think would happen. This is the brief romance that novels are written about, a story you might remember when 30 years from now, your 20something-year-old daughter goes on her first trip to Paris and you remember him. Jimin will be your story, one that you might revisit often, depending on how the night ends.
Taking your hand in his, he leads the way and you follow blindly, enjoying his touch even during simple handholding. You want to do more, so much more, but if you do, you’ll never get to your end destination. Jimin must have sensed that, because the two of you are walking faster than you did this whole day – now you actually have a goal in mind. And what a goal that will be.
“Not to bring the mood down but we could have been going to your place a lot sooner if you’d kissed me back in the club,” you admit. Maybe that was a little bit unnecessary but you want to break the silence between you – and if you can compliment him in the process, why not?
“Hmm, maybe,” he sighs, suddenly letting go of your hand, only to hug you around the waist and pull you into his side, giving you a quick kiss on the lips. “You’re not the only one that was worried about misreading some signals. I wanted to be sure, so I consciously waited for you to do something.”
“Thank fuck I did because that was a close one,” you laugh in disbelief, amazed to know how close you were to this simply never happening.
“Not gonna lie, I was worried,” he laughs too, giving you another quick peck. You’re positive that you’re blushing again. Every time he kisses you, your stomach does somersaults, excited at the thought of him wanting to kiss you as much as you want to kiss him. Which is a lot. More than a lot. “I’m glad you mustered the courage to kiss a guy that’s quite obviously wanted to kiss you all afternoon.”
“For future notice – be more direct,” you warn him through laughter. The lucky girl who gets to experience him next deserves to be spared the inner turmoil you’ve went through. He spent the entire night dancing on the line between being very direct and not direct enough. One step in either direction would have settled your dilemma, so hopefully the next person will have more luck.
“I’m a bit preoccupied with you right now, thanks,” he chuckles as he sneaks his hand down to your ass and squeezes it shamelessly. You jump up in surprise but don’t feel particularly troubled about being in public, seeing as there is no public around you, at all. It’s just the two of you, walking along the river, the boats moored along the way seemingly empty. Feeling brave, braver than you ever remember feeling, you’re the one who initiates the kiss this time, making sure to show him how much you want this. You move slowly, enjoy the feeling of taking the lead and the lazy movements of your tongues, interrupted only when you feel the need to bite his bottom lip, which is way more often than you’d be willing to admit. Somehow, you once again end up being sandwiched between him and the half wall behind you. Seizing the opportunity, you sit on the half wall, pulling Jimin towards you by the belt – his hands find their way to your waist as he situates himself between your legs. This time around you’re sure it’s not his phone you’re feeling. It’s a very prominent bulge, noticeable enough to make you salivate at the very thought of what’s hidden. You’re not the only one acting braver – for the first time tonight, Jimin’s hands find their way under your shirt, eliciting goosebumps on your back almost immediately.
It’s when his fingers move to the front and graze your bra that you remember the two of you are still very much out in the open. And while at this point you wouldn’t particularly mind letting him have you here and now, the last thing you want to add to your Paris story is being arrested for indecent exposure.
“If you keep kissing me like this, we’ll never get to your place,” you warn him and contradict yourself immediately, attacking his neck with bites that make him sigh and shudder.
“Thank fuck we’re already here.”
You reluctantly detach yourself from his neck, looking around in confusion – you don’t see a house around you, at all. There’s nothing but the walkway and the park across the street. And as much as you like Jimin, you’re not going to fuck him on a bench which he sleeps on. He sees your confusion and nods towards the river. It takes you a bit too long to connect the dots.
“You’ve rented a houseboat?!” you ask in surprise and he gives you a quick kiss, pulling away with a smile.
“Of course,” he chuckles. “Hotels are boring. Boats are awesome.”
“Who even rents a boathouse?” you ask in wonder, all the while feeling slightly pissed at yourself because why the hell didn’t you think of that? It sure would beat your tiny airbnb, with a building that has no damn stairs – nothing but an elevator. Why would you be locked in such a claustrophobic space when you can have a damn boat? Lesson learned.
“I do,” he smirks at you. “And tonight, I’m going to fuck a very beautiful girl on that boat. So I guess it was a good call. Don’t you agree?”
“Yep. Wholeheartedly. You win.”
You know you’re going to die of embarrassment when he realizes just how wet he’s made you but you’re past the point of caring. With the words he says and the way he kisses you, you and your pussy never stood a chance.
Before you can kiss him again and prolong the wait, he takes your hand and leads the way, first down a set of concrete stairs and then towards the second houseboat in a row; it’s close to the ones on its side, but not too close for comfort. Climbing up the stairs that lead to the impromptu balcony on the boat, you immediately realize the appeal of choosing housing like this – once you can take your eyes away from Jimin’s ass, that is. No, once you are not looking at it, you can appreciate the view the boat has – you can even see the Eiffel tower, a bit down the river. The deck has a huge table, a few chairs and way more plants that a boat deck needs. It looks comfortable, beautiful and with how easily accessible it is, just a bit dangerous. All the words you can use to describe the man who is now kissing your neck, standing behind you as you reach and lean yourself on the boat rail, hoping it is safe.
“I see you’re an exhibitionist,” you laugh when he pulls you back so that your ass is right against his crotch and good god, you can feel how hard he is as he rolls his hips against you.
“No. Maybe just a little,” he chuckles. You laugh too, until you feel one of his hands leave your hips and reach for the button on your jeans. You gulp, eyes widening and as if he can sense your alert, he doesn’t unbutton them immediately. “You?” he asks. God, consent is so fucking sexy.
You’ve never dabbled in it, never really thought about it either but now, in this predicament? “Maybe just a little,” your voice is low as you give him permission. You weren’t joking when you thought that he can do anything he wants, were you? It doesn’t matter, because you said yes and holy fuck, his hand is going down your pants.
You jolt immediately and how could you not, when he went straight for your clit, right off the bat. Jimin does not play around, that much is obvious. You can only pray the fence is secure enough to keep you out of the water.
“Didn’t think you’d be this turned on by foreplay in public,” he laughs directly in your ear because the moment he ran his fingers against your slit, you threw your head back to lean onto him more, afraid of your legs actually turning into jelly because of him. “I’m proven wrong.”
“You don’t know me well enough to assume my sexual preferences,” somehow, you manage to laugh and remain sassy, thought that is cut short the moment he returns his attention to your clit, circling it very, very slowly. “But I suppose you found out some.”
“And I have the whole night to learn, don’t I, Y/N?”
“You do,” you bite your lip to hold back a moan because he started rubbing his fingers against you, the sudden change from slow to fast catching you off guard.
“You don’t have to keep quiet baby,” he presses a quick kiss against your neck, pushing you more into the rail as he rubs himself against your ass in a manner that almost has you begging for more. You are, internally, but not aloud. Not yet, at least. “I don’t think anyone could hear you down here. And I know I want to.”
“Duly noted,” you moan out because he presses his fingers into you harder – with the pressure and the speed, you know you’re going to fall apart way sooner than you’d though.
There has to be some flaw, right? He cannot be this perfect, no human being can be this perfect. If you were to stick around long enough, maybe you’d find a personality trait of his that makes him less perfect than what he is now, in your eyes, but you won’t be staying long enough to find out. For tonight, you’re more than fine with letting him be your little perfection.
“Let’s go inside?” he suggests as he drags his hand away from you and that is by far the worst thing he had done the whole night. You never want him to stop touching you, but that can be arranged at a more appropriate location. You nod, or so you think you do, unsure of your movements and thoughts, and you let him pull you by the hand and towards the door, pausing to fumble with the keys.
He opens the door and you stumble inside as he puts his bag on a hallway table – you choose to throw yours on the ground, waiting for him to turn on the lights. The moment you can see him clearly, the passion takes over you.
Driven by it, you all but slam him into the wall, almost laughing as his eyes widen in surprise. You don’t though – you don’t laugh, you don’t say anything. You simply reach for the hem of his shirt and lift it up slowly, making sure that your fingers cross every inch of skin you uncover. Seeing him shiver is worth the torture you’re putting yourself through, because a part of you wants to drop to the floor and start unbuckling his belt. You fight your own instincts, wanting and hoping to give him at least a fraction of the pleasure he had given you just moments ago.
Soft to the touch but very well defined, his body is a work of art that could rival those that you have spent the last few days observing. The tattoo you discover on his ribs serves as a perfect imperfection, a blemish on the canvas that somehow looks so right. Gulping, you let him take off his shirt and as soon as he does, you’re against him, kissing those lips of his again.
You don’t stay there long – slowly traveling under his chin, down his neck and all over his chest, staying there long enough, pressing soft kisses and licks until he is properly panting. When his hips roll, subconsciously looking for any kind of friction, you decide to move further down, slowly kissing a trail down his stomach, looking up at him, enjoying the sight of him so visibly… distraught. The moment your eyes meet, he closes his. And now you know you’re doing it right, if for the first time he is the one afraid of eye contact and how deadly it can be.
“You’re killing me,” he chuckles nervously, his voice breathless. And you simply smile, slowly unbuckling his belt and pushing the pants down to his knees as slow as you possibly can. You want to offer a remark about how he’s clearly enjoying it but his cock is one major distraction, in the best way possible.
He’s hard and ready, the sight filling you with instant pride because you know that you did that. You made him like this. A little bit pliant, a little bit breathless and very much not ready for what’s about to come. He’s hard, twitching under your gaze, making your mouth water. You still take it slow, enjoying the pace set to tease him – slowly licking the tip of his dick, smiling as you watch his Adam’s apple bob from above you – he still can’t look at you.
“I love how you’ve been staring me down the whole night and now you can’t handle looking at me,” you admit as you slowly drag your hand up and down his cock. Of course, now he opens his eyes and looks down on you but the lump he swallows shows you that even though he responed to your challenge, he is still very much affected and you’re living for it.
“I see you like to tease,” is what he says, making you smile.
“Very much,” you nod, giving him a quick lick that is followed by another muffled curse coming from him. “But I can be kind too,” you conclude, before finally taking him into your mouth properly.
It’s a bit of a challenge but you are more than happy to take it, slowly sinking your mouth up and down his dick, enjoying the symphony of noises that is coming from him. Every sigh, every curse, every moan – it all just makes you even more adamant to give him the best head of his life.
“Fuck Y/N,” he barely manages to say, moaning as you speed up your movements. He gathers your hair in a makeshift ponytail and slowly starts guiding you faster, eyeing your reaction, despite being momentarily distracted by the sight of you taking all of him into your mouth. “Fuck, you look so… You’re gonna make me come,” he lets out a slightly panicked laughter, gently pushing you away from him, to which you pout. Despite not being that big on blowjobs, giving one to Jimin felt somewhat like a privilege and you wouldn’t admit that lightly. Not wanting to stop completely, you squeeze him in your hand, slowly moving up and down, watching as he goes through another crisis. “Y/N,” he laughs in warning, making you stop, albeit reluctantly.
“Isn’t it the point to make you come?” you ask but still stand up when his hands grab yours by the elbows and he lifts you up to stand next to him.
“Absolutely,” his eyes don’t leave your lips and he gives you a quick kiss, biting into your bottom lip hard enough to earn a moan. “But not like that, not before I fuck you. Not before I have my way with you.”
The smile on his face looks sinister enough to make you even wetter than you were moments ago. He doesn’t sound like a man who makes promises lightly and you get your confirmation as he puts his hands on your hips and starts pushing you back towards the room behind you. You’re too fucked out to notice anything other than the fairly modern design of the furniture around you. Before you can notice anything in particular, your ass slams into a hard surface and you jump up, letting him settle between your legs again and kiss you even harder than he did all night.
You’re the target now, and good god, you’re loving it. His lips alter between being gentle and harsh, kissing you with so much passion before biting, as if he wants to show you that he’s the one in charge. And you let him. By god, you let him.
He takes your shirt and bra off quickly, not wanting to drag it out like you did, but the moment you’re half naked before his eyes, he slows down. If him staring you down made you feel nervous before, you are positively burning right now because he is eating you up. He doesn’t even have to touch you – just the sight of him, looking like he’s about to ruin you is enough to cause goosebumps to form all over your body. He comes closer, attaching his lips to your chest. You are losing your mind because he is purposely slow, kissing you all over before finally attaching his lips to your nipple, taking it into his mouth and slowly rolling his tongue against it. You swear you can feel him smiling, but you’re too far gone to check – especially not when his hand reaches for your other breast, squeezing it shamelessly. You’ve been able to control your noises for a little while, but the moment his teeth come out to play, you’re a goner. With his fingers and lips moving at the same time, you can only moan, reaching towards something, anything to hold and settling for his hair. You grip it, perhaps a bit too harshly if his moan is anything to go by – but he doesn’t stop you. In fact, he simply sucks harder, making you arch your back towards him.
He’ll ruin you. He will absolutely ruin you and you are perfectly fine with it.
After what feels like an eternity, he detaches his mouth away from you and your eyes meet. He truly is a sight for sore eyes, especially now when he looks so blissfully fucked out. His hair is a mess, his lips red from all the kissing and sucking, his torso a work of art. He looks so fucking hot, you moan. At the very sight of him, you moan. He’s not touching you, he’s not teasing you, he’s not doing anything but looking at you and that is enough to make you moan, moan and rut your hips in his direction, looking for friction which you find in the form of his thigh. He lets you, he lets you move against him. Your moment of pleasure doesn’t last long, because he steps back, fumbling to unbutton your jeans. You lay down, ignoring the cold of the table against your naked back, lifting your hips to help him undress you completely. Unlike the slow, sensual moves that you used on him, he is quick, taking them off as fast as he possibly can. When you’re left in nothing but your underwear, that is when he slows down again, crouching down out of your sight.
“Fuck!” you gasp in surprise when you feel him nuzzling his nose against your clothed center – you can feel how wet you are and you know, you know he can smell it, feel it, see it and you absolutely do not care. In fact, you’re even more turned on by the thought of it – he clearly is enjoying it and you want nothing more than to let him know how good he’s making you feel.
He doesn’t torture you for too long and other than a muffled curse, he doesn’t comment on how wet you are for him. Instead, he goes right down to business, using his fingers to move your underwear to the side and he immediately attaches himself to your clit, sucking on it harshly, with the same fervor as when he was sucking on your nipples.
“Fuck, Jimin!” you moan out, gripping his hair with all the strength you have, knowing that that must have hurt – again, he shows no signs of having a problem with it. Fuck, he probably even likes it.
“What is it baby?” he asks, not waiting for your response and instead choosing to lick up your center. “Are you enjoying it?”
“Yes, fuck yes,” you manage to reply, momentarily distracted by the feel of his finger sinking into you.
“If you let me, I’ll eat you out for hours tomorrow morning,” he tells you, pausing to bite on your thigh, a bite that you know will leave teeth marks, but you don’t protest. “As much as I’d be willing to do it for hours right now, I really need you on my cock.”
“Yeah, okay,” you laugh, biting your lip at the feel of him sinking another finger into you, slowly dragging them in and out as he stands up, keeping his eyes on yours the whole time. You say nothing more – you couldn’t, even if you wanted to. You move your hips in time with his fingers, riding them like you would, and hopefully will, ride his dick in a matter of moments.
“Bedroom?” he suggests as he stops his assault on you. You nod, somehow managing to sit up, nearly laughing at the sight of him. Half naked, with his jeans still hanging right above his knees, his member standing up proudly. How he could wobble you towards the table in that state is beyond you. You don’t have a chance to ask, too distracted with the sight of him licking his fingers, all while looking directly into your eyes. He’ll be the death of you, that’s for sure.
You stand up, leaning against the table as he loses the last articles of his clothing – you barely have the time to take a few deep breaths before he starts kissing you again, his tongue overpowering yours as you moan at the taste of him. You don’t bother opening your eyes, letting him lead you towards the bedroom, trusting him that you won’t end up overboard, hoping that if you do, you wouldn’t be too turned on to notice. You hit a wall and a door on your way there, giggling by the time he is pushing you onto a bed, finally letting you breathe. Standing above you, he somehow manages to look both menacing and hot at the same time. His eyes tell you to wait, which you gladly do, watching him as you settle yourself on top of the covers. You choke on your own breath when you notice his ass, for the first time without the barrier of skintight jeans – it’s a sight, alright. You watch as he fumbles through his suitcase, smiling at him when he turns around, waving a condom at you.
No matter how much you’re into him, there’s no way he’s fucking you without protection. You’re glad he’s on the same page, not even stopping to suggest going bare. While you’d like that and you’re guessing so would he, it’s simply not happening. He walks towards you, not putting the condom on immediately, instead choosing to give his member a few strokes, enjoying the view of you on his bed, naked and waiting. Though your lip bite was an unconscious reaction at the sight before you, he is affected, grunting at the sight – the moment the condom is covering his dick, he is rushing to get on top of you, finally letting you feel his whole body against your own.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he tells you before kissing you passionately, flicking his tongue slowly as he settles between your legs. He doesn’t enter you immediately, instead choosing to grind onto you, making the both of you moan into the kiss. You’re the one who pulls away, if only for a moment.
“Please,” you moan out, enjoying the feel of his dick rubbing against you, pushing you closer to the edge – too close, considering you didn’t even have a chance to feel him inside of you. “Please just fuck me.”
“Gladly,” he gives you a quick kiss before finally sliding into you. Slowly and with ease, he fills you up in a way that makes you moan – louder than you did the whole night, feeling absolutely shameless. You don’t care, you don’t care where you are or who can hear you, if anyone – he feels that damn good.
“Fuck, you feel so good,” you gasp, taken by surprise with him slowly rolling his hips into you. It’s as if he can tell you need no more time to adjust to him, he starts moving a bit faster with each roll of his hips, making you curse out as you grab onto him, your fingers digging into his skin. It seems he enjoys you being rough with him, showing him how good he’s making you feel because he isn’t complaining and you know it has to hurt. He wastes no time, dipping down to take your nipple into his mouth, never stopping his dick from moving in and out of you in the best of ways.
“God,you’re so tight baby!” he grunts as his thrusts become harder and faster, so much so that you faintly notice the sound of the bed thumping into something, most likely the wall. You don’t care, you really don’t – you pull him closer to you, blindly reaching for his lips, enjoying the way he overpowers your senses, even smell - he smells like sex and expensive cologne, the most mouthwatering scent you’ve ever had the pleasure of smelling. The moment your lips touch, you feel his hand graze your clit, eliciting a particularly loud moan for you. Unable to focus on anything, you give into pleasure and let him do whatever he wants with you, the onslaught on your senses killing the little sanity you had left.
You dare and think it can’t get any better than this and right as you do, he delivers a particularly hard thrust, pinching your clit between his fingers at the same time. You weren’t ready – you weren’t ready for it at all and with his actions catching you by surprise, you lose the little control you’ve had, coming hard. The orgasm washes over you stronger than any orgasm in your recent memory, making you gasp and moan, holding onto him with all the strength your body has left. He is losing his cool too – his hands give in and he’s pressed up against you completely, lips grazing your ear. “Just like that, come all over my cock,” he urges you through your high, his words making it even harder for you to calm down.
Body shivering, you somehow calm down your breathing – it’s a challenge, seeing as he still hasn’t stopped moving completely. He slowed down enough not to send you in complete overdrive too soon. Even his consideration is a turn on – almost as strong of a turn on as him using your body to pleasure himself, still rolling his hips into you and moaning softly, directly into your ear, the moan turning more high pitched when he feels your nails running up and down his back.
Turning your head towards him, you search for his lips. He kisses you eagerly, stilling himself inside of you for a moment, as if he wants to focus on the kiss and kiss alone. Slowly, he moves away from you and leans back, running his hand up your thigh. He raises his eyebrows as he pushes your leg up, asking you for permission. You nod, moaning as he moves your leg towards the side. Quickly, you turn to your side completely and judging by the moan he lets out, that’s exactly what he needed you to do.
You want to do more, you do. You want to ride him till you can no longer move but he is so damn overwhelming, all you can do right now is just… take it. And you’re not complaining. Slowly but surely, the pleasure builds up again and you realize there’s a strong chance you’ll come again. Suddenly brave again, you look at him, directly at him, as you put a hand between your legs and start rubbing yourself. The moment he realizes what you’re doing, he looks down, lifting your leg up so that he can have a better view. “Fuck,” is all he says, followed by the sexiest groan you have ever heard a man make.
“I’m so close,” you warn him, wanting to feel all of it again but somehow not wanting it to end.
“Come on baby, come for me again,” he urges you on. As much as you want to, you really don’t want it to be over anytime soon - the buildup was so damn hot and you simply don’t want to stop. Thinking about his earlier promise about eating you out for hours is what pushes you over the edge. Feeling Jimin and think of the dirty words he whispered in your ear is enough for you to come again, your entire body shivering with pure pleasure. Looking up at him, you notice the way his face scrunches, the way his voice is deeper and his moans never stopping… he takes over you again.
“I’m going to come,” he warns you, making you remember that he can’t come inside of you and fill you up, which is something you would really, really like. You settle for the next best thing.
“Come on me,” you tell him, moving your leg out of his still firm grip, and spreading your legs as much as possible, now having a perfect view of him slamming into you, much faster than he did before. “Come anywhere you want,” you urge him, biting your lip as his hips lose rhythm at your suggestion. In the speed of light, he slips out of you, leaving you empty and wanting more, more of him, more of his dick, more of anything he’d be willing to give you. You watch as he takes the condom off in the speed of light, still rubbing yourself and ignoring the overstimulation you are feeling, absolutely urged by the hottest sight you have seen in your entire life: Jimin, stroking himself with a firm grip, moaning loudly as he closes his eyes, his face scrunched in pleasure.
You watch in awe as he finishes all over you, the streaks of his cum reaching all the way up to your breasts. You have never, never in your entire life, experienced anything hotter than this. You know now, there is nothing hotter than watching Jimin orgasm. And you have never in your miserable life had sex nearly as good as the one you had now.
Jimin’s body gives up and he falls directly on top of you, making you chuckle. Your hands roam his back, as if you are comforting him through the aftermath, completely ignoring the fact that his now softening member is still rubbing against you. Both of you are sweaty, your bodies covered in his cum but you don’t care and neither does he. Once he is finally able to move, he simply leans a bit to the side, just so that he can look at you. And he does. With the brightest, sweetest smile that shouldn’t belong to a man who fucked you as hard as he just did.
“Hi,” you speak up first, shocked at how rough your voice sounds. Perhaps you were a bit louder than you thought you were. He smiles and you feel yourself melting again, accepting that you are whipped for him, way more whipped than you should be for someone you barely know. He doesn’t make it any easier on you when he leans in for a kiss, his lips slow and lazy and yours following suit, ignoring the butterflies that are going berserk in your stomach again. You ignore it all, shutting your brain off and enjoying the post sex glow that he is radiating with.
He pulls away but not before caressing your face and pushing hair behind your ear – a very sweet action for someone whose mouth can do all those dirty, lovely things.
“That was… wow,” he admits and for the first time since you’ve met him, you think you see a blush on his face – a blush that isn’t caused by alcohol, that is. Is he suddenly shy? Is it the post sex blush? You don’t know and you don’t care, as long as you can keep looking at him.
“Wow seems appropriate,” you agree, joining in his laughter. He is still chuckling as he nuzzles into your neck, giving you a few quick pecks before pulling away.
“Do you want to stay the night?” he raises his eyebrows, giving you a way out if you don’t want to take him up on his earlier offer. “I could call you a cab or even walk you back to your place. I’d like you to stay the night though.”
“Good, because I don’t think I can use my legs at the moment.”
It wasn’t supposed to be such a funny remark but for some reason, he laughs hard and after fighting it for a few seconds, you can’t help but join in. If you look past his hotness and the ease with which he communicates with people, he really does have a comfortable aura around him – if he laughs, it’s contagious and you don’t mind joining in.
The two of you calm down and after a few moments of silence, he runs his hand through your hair again, pushing it away from your face as his eyes focus on different parts of it – first your eyes, then your lips, then your cheeks. It looks as if he is trying to memorize you and to that you can relate because this is one night you’d never want to forget, not one part of it. And not one part of him. “Let’s go and get cleaned up?” he suggests.
You’ve lost count of how many times you have let him take you by the hand and lead the way for the both of you. You are yet to regret those decisions, gladly letting him lead the way now, knowing that wherever he takes you… it’s going to be good.
You wake up feeling content, well rested and sore, all at once. With a dumb smile on your face, you giggle and bury your face in the pillow – it smells of him, making your memories of the night before even more vivid.
His promise of devoting hours to you and your body this morning did not wait until dawn. It all occurred the night before, with you still kissing one another by the time sun had started to rise and the birds had started chirping.
It all comes back to you in flashes, the bath you took together, the way he caressed your skin as he was washing you up, before his hands went a bit further south. Both the sweet words and the dirty talk are engraved in your mind forever, just like the way he made you feel all of last night.
You knew it before, you’re sure of it now – he has ruined you. He has absolutely ruined you, in the best way possible. And you don’t want it to end.
You knew it had an expiration date. This is a trip romance – short, sweet, steamy and memorable. It had an expiration date the moment the two of you shared the first smiles in front of ‘Shakespeare and company’. While the thought of it does leave a bitter taste in your mouth, you’re a big girl and you can live with it. Smiling, you decide to enjoy the morning, or early afternoon, with Jimin. You’ll deal with the negative side effects later.
“Afternoon, beautiful,” you hear him, turning around towards the direction his voice is coming from – he is leaning against the doorway, smiling at you, looking too hot for his own good with gray sweatpants, a white shirt and a part of his dark hair pulled back in a makeshift bun. “Did you sleep well?”
“Surprisingly, yes,” he smiles as you close your eyes and shamelessly yawn, remembering a second too late that you should put a hand over your mouth. You open your eyes just in time to see him sitting down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on your naked thigh and slowly moving it up and down your skin. It’s not as sexual as his touches were last night – in fact, this feels more comforting than anything else. “How long was I out? Did you sleep well?”
“Yeah, I slept like a log. And it’s 2PM now, so you’ve had a few hours.”
“2PM?” you’re shocked to realized you’ve already lost half the day. It was very much worth it, though.
“You have somewhere to be?” he teases you, probably unaware how he makes the butterflies in your stomach go nuts. You have a sneaky suspicion that he’s not aware of your dilemma – do you go, do you stay? Does he want you to go or does he want you to stay? What are you even supposed to say now?
“No, not really,” you shrug, cowardly throwing the ball into his court. You’ll admit it, you’re a whimp and you are more than happy to let him decide if you should be on your way or stick around a bit longer.
“Well, I’ve made us some quick lunch. I wanted to order something but wasn’t sure if you’d want to stick around for food… so I figured I’ll make something and eat both portions if you bolt,” he admits through laughter and you’re immediately relieved – you weren’t the only one uncertain about everything.
“I don’t have to bolt. And I’m also kind of starving,” you admit, shuddering when you remember that the last thing you ate was a croissant almost a full day ago – you’re absolutely starving.
“We can eat on the deck if you want?” he suggest, before breaking out into a sudden smile.
“What?” you ask, confused with how he’s looking at you. You either have something on your face or he’s going to make this whole thing 20 times more difficult and you’re afraid the second situation is more likely.
“Nothing. You’re just beautiful like that,” he shrugs as you let him run his hands through your hair.
“Half-dead and messy looking? I’m sure I am,” you roll your eyes.
“Not messy. Sexy,” he corrects you, the same way he did last night. With a sigh, he pulls away and stands up. “I’m starving too, so you’d better hurry up if you don’t want me eating you up instead.”
“I don’t think I’d mind that, to be honest,” you admit, hiding your face in his pillow, knowing that you no longer have the dark to hide the blush that appears whenever you say something a bit more straightforward.
You expected him to say something or maybe laugh – you absolutely didn’t expect to feel his teeth on your right ass cheek. You jump up in surprise, nearly hitting him in the head when your leg jerks, but that only makes him laugh. You’re smiling way too wide for someone who’s just been bitten on the ass and you decide to scream into the pillow once he’s away enough not to hear it.
“Your clothes and underwear are dry and clean but feel free to steal that shirt from me,” he winks at you. “I’ll wait on the deck.”
With that, he leaves you alone to get dressed, try to gather your thoughts and maybe, just maybe, control your emotions a little bit. It would have been a lot easier if he was the ‘wham, bam, thank you ma’am’ kind of guy but surprise, he’s not! No, he fucked you like a full-fledged sex god, giving you the best night of your life, while caring enough to throw your clothes into the washer and drier and even wanting to feed you the next day. Nope, still no flaws in sight for Park Jimin.
You wash up quickly, slapping yourself a few times for good measure, hoping to calm yourself down enough to be able to turn around and leave very soon. You still don’t know if it had worked but your bag is packed and you join him on the deck, dressed in your jeans and the shirt he wore yesterday that he generously let you sleep in and steal for good.
He doesn’t notice you immediately, leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. The sight of him sitting like that, with his dark hair pulled back and tied, his neck in full view and all but glowing in the sunlight makes you want to cry. The man is actually so goddamn pretty it almost brings tears to your eyes. It doesn’t help when he notices you and smiles at you, pointing at the two bowls set on the table.
“I know it’s just noodles but honestly, I’m too pretty to know how to cook,” he explains as you take a seat. You burst out laughing at his comment.
“Cocky yet very true,” you nod in appreciation. “Don’t worry, I love ramen.”
“It’s lame but I at least I’ve added poached eggs,” he tells you, looking oh so proud about adding an extra ingredient.
“Nothing beats instant ramen,” you reassure him. “It smells of youth, not having enough money and artificial flavoring. I’ve never felt more at home,” this time around, it’s he who laughs, wishing you a good meal as the both of you dig into the food. You weren’t lying when you said it’s more than okay – you just need some food in the belly and it’s not like you’ve expected him to greet you with a full course meal. It’s the thought that counts and it’s more than enough. Actually, it might even be too much.
Halfway through your lunch, the silence between you turns slightly uncomfortable. It isn’t anything that either one of you did – it’s just the entire situation. The clock is ticking, the both of you know it and neither one of you is quite sure how to act about it. You can’t stay here for another day, even if you wanted to – your stuff and a huge chunk of your money is back at your airbnb. Even with that little detail aside, you’re not even sure if you want to say – not to mention, if he wants you to stay or not.
But it feels… wrong. It feels wrong to leave just like that, pretending like he hadn’t given you an amazing night. Not only was the sex mind-blowingly good… even before that, he was a perfect travel partner yesterday. He’s good company and knowing you’ll be saying goodbye to all of that… it doesn’t sit well with you.
Despite avoiding eye contact for a few minutes now, you fail and the moment your eyes meet from across the table, you know you’ve reached that page of the little novella the two of you wrote. He knows it too, setting away his chopsticks, sighing as he leans back into the chair. You say nothing, watching him as he stares you down, slowly shaking his head.
“I don’t want this to end,” he admits. You stay silent, following his suit as you put away your own chopsticks and lean back into the chair, completely shutting down the rest of the world – you no longer hear the birds or passing boats. You don’t see the tourists walking along the river, you don’t even feel the subtle waves that gently sway the boat you’re on – you can only focus on him, on his face, on the way he looks bothered by this. “It feels wrong to end this but at the same time, doesn’t it feel like the only proper way to go about it? Am I making any sense?” he asks, letting out a nervous chuckle.
“Yeah,” you nod immediately, assuring him that you do understand it. “It feels good, it feels right, like it would be a shame to walk away from but… what else can be done?”
“Exactly,” he agrees, leaning towards you. “It feels equally right and wrong. What are we going to do?”
You can go back to get your stuff and spend the rest of the trip here with him. You can exchange numbers and meet up back home. It could lead to something beautiful, a continuation of a marvelous chapter one, just as easily as it can lead to a complete disaster. Life’s unpredictable and you don’t know if it’s worth it to possibly ruin this amazing… encounter.
How can you even find an answer to that? Not like this whole thing hasn’t been…
“You believe in destiny, don’t you?” you ask him, suddenly putting two and two together, smiling at the confused nod he gives you. “We met here so many times. Different days, different times, we somehow ended up together. Who’s to say that won’t happen again?” you ask.
“What are you suggesting here? To… see if we meet again?”
“Exactly,” you nod, feeling proud of the solution you’ve come up with. “You believe in destiny and I don’t. If we meet again, I’d be willing to question that belief. We go our separate ways. If it ends up being a onetime encounter, we’ll remember it with smiles on our faces. And if we meet…”
“I don’t let you walk away again,” he smirks at you. You don’t say anything as that smirk turns into a genuine, real smile. He means it, he actually means it. And if you meet him again… you will too. “What happens if we run into each other back home?” he asks.
You remember how you talked last night, realizing that the two of you were hanging around the same places before, perhaps even at the same time. It made you wonder how many times you have passed one another, without a second glance, thinking of other things, of other people. Running into him back home seems more likely than seeing him again here in Paris.
“Then we say hello and see where that takes us,” you answer adamantly.
“Deal.”
“Deal.”
He offers you his hand from across the table and you shake it firmly, suddenly a lot more hopeful than you were moments ago. No, you don’t believe in destiny but if there’s someone that could make you question that, it’s Park Jimin himself.
“Fucking hell,” you curse under your breath as you wrestle your way through the crowd – for the first time since you’ve arrived in Paris, you were stuck in the metro during rush hour and you have never felt so many backpacks smacking your face in such a short amount of time.
Trying to get Google Maps on, you make your way up the stairs and into fresh air, taking a deep breath when you do. If your phone is correct and based on your previous experiences, it’s probably not, you’re a five minute walk away from the Luxembourg Gardens. A perfect way to end your last full day in Paris – outside and hopefully away from any kind of crowd.
You walk in the direction your navigation deems right, checking every few seconds if it had started spinning out of control like it did yesterday – there is nothing more stressful than your GPS telling you to turn right and once you do, immediately telling you to take a sharp left.
It’s the smell that makes you take a detour – it’s always the smell. Sure, you could continue to sheepishly follow your navigation but when the smell of freshly baked pastry smacks you in the face, you know where you’re heading. The bakery is fairly empty and you test your poor French as you order a plain croissant.
Damn him and his plain croissants. Something that should be so simple and so irrelevant now irks you, almost to the point of you changing your order to a chocolate one. You don’t, already knowing that you’re nowhere near proficient enough in French to explain your change of heart.
The lady behind the counter is a bit of a bitch, not waiting for you to put your wallet away before she hands you your meal, giving you a dirty look when it takes you a second too long to take it from her. Offering her a sour, kiss-my-ass smile, you take the pastry and head towards the door, now trying to juggle your food, phone, wallet and the door handle, all at once.
You’ve just managed to close the door behind you and turn around, nearly avoiding a collision.
“Jesus Christ!” you gasp, gripping your phone and the pastry harder, stopping them from flying out of your hand.
“Shit, I’m so sorry!”
Your heart stops at the sound of his voice. You slowly look up, scared of both confirming and denying your suspicions, unsure which one would hurt more – him being here or him being a product of your imagination. You know that voice and you know it well.
It’s him, looking panicked and checking if you have a hold on your things. “I’m sorry, I…” he goes mute once his eyes meet yours and he realizes it’s you.
Jimin stares at you, not saying anything. One second before the encounter turns uncomfortable, you watch in amazement as he grins at you, a grin so wide and genuine your heart skips a beat.
“I… I could have dropped my croissant.”
He huffs a small laugh at your horribly timed Vine reference, pursing his lips as he tries to hide his smile – why, you don’t know and don’t care to find out because he can’t do it. He can’t hide his smile and it’s evident that he’s happy to see you. So are you, thanking and cursing at destiny at the same time.
Taking your empty hand in his, he says nothing as he intertwines your fingers and starts walking, slowly leading you away with him. You follow him, desperately thinking of what to say, of what to do but somehow too panicked to actually do anything. It feels like one of you should do something and apparently, he thinks the same because he suddenly stops and turns your way.
He puts his hands on your face, pulling you in for a kiss. The moment your lips are pressed against his, you remember how much you’ve wanted to do this since the last time you’ve kissed him, before walking down the steps of his boathouse. The relief that fills you as he deepens the kiss makes you a reluctant but firm believer in destiny.
No words are needed, you know that now. So when he leans away and smiles at you, you smile back, reaching for his hand again. He leads the way and again you follow, knowing you’re definitely not going to regret it this time either. THE END
#jimin smut#bts smut#jimin scenario#bts scenario#jimin#jimin fanfic#bts fanfic#bts fic#bts au#jimin au#park jimin#jimin writing
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Rodeo Romeo and Agent Juliet
Pairing: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels/Kingsman Reader
Word Count: 2,118
Warnings: None
Permanent Taglist: @phoenixhalliwell
Jack was never a fan of classic literature, but when Agent Juliet comes in from Kingsman for the annual Statesman Holiday Gala and immediately calls him the ‘Rodeo Romeo,’ he may be a little bit, okay a lot, in love with the totally off limits woman. What he doesn’t know is that darling Agent Juliet is just as deep in it for her beautiful Rodeo Romeo. Expect many references to Shakespeare, and I promise no one dies at the end.
Author’s Notes: Based off a wonderful post by @pedrocentric that cursed me into writing 2,000 words in a day. I love you for the stab of inspiration I was given.
The Statesman annual holiday gala was, in Jack’s words, a fancy pain in the ass. It was an excuse to get dressed up and horribly drunk, and while he knew his night would end in some beautiful woman’s bed, he didn’t want to go through the actual gala to get there.
“This is bullshit,” he decided firmly, adjusting his hat and mask. Every year, the gala had a theme, usually pretty vague so people could get creative. This year, the theme was masquerade. Jack, at Ginger’s request, was wearing his usual tuxedo that he wore to every gala, his hat, and a gorgeous black mask with intricate silver details. It was a pain in the ass, but he had to admit, the mask made him look really good.
“I know,” Ginger reassured, tying her own delicate golden mask. “But as two of the more involved agents, we have to attend.”
Jack sighed. “Anyone new attending this year, or will it be a familiar crowd?”
Ginger reached over his chest and readjusted his bow tie. “Kingsman is coming. Eggsy, Harry, and I think they’re bringing a new agent. Agent Juliet? They’re rebranding to have classic literature names instead of Arthurian legend names. Something about inclusivity, I think.”
“Yeah well,” Jack mumbled. “I was never a fan of classic literature.”
They left the room together, ready for the music and the lights of the party. It was a bit more toned down from last year, with quieter music and gentle lights. Plenty of Statesman agents filtered around, along with some of their business partners. Jack did what he always did at these parties. Started his night off with a glass of whiskey and went right into flirting with some pretty thing in a tight rose colored dress.
“Heads up,” Ginger said behind him, sliding up to the bar as Jack’s rosey target walked away. “Kingsman’s here.”
Jack turned, seeing the familiar two Kingsman agents he’d tried to kill. In his defense, he hadn’t been right in the head, and they’d both forgiven him. Apparently holding grudges wasn’t the Kingsman way.
“Whiskey,” Eggsy greeted as he walked up to the bar. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“I could say the same about you,” Jack said smoothly. “Who’s the lady?”
Standing by Eggsy’s side, chatting happily with another woman, was the prettiest lady Jack had ever seen. Delicate features barely hidden behind a midnight blue and silver mask, Jack traced down perfectly shaped lips lined in dusty pink and a beautiful silver necklace that laid across her collarbones perfectly. Her dress was a soft looking midnight blue, all flowing fabrics and cinching at her natural waist with a silver belt. The heart shaped neckline and semi-sheer sleeves lay across her skin in a way that made her look, in a single word, like a goddess.
“This is Agent Juliet,” Eggsy introduced, nudging Juliet forward. “Jules, this is Agent Whiskey.”
Juliet scanned Jack from top to bottom, her brows knitting a bit as she thought.
“Oh!” She finally exclaimed. “Is this the one who couldn’t flirt for shit?”
Immediately, Jack almost choked on his drink while Eggsy laughed out loud. “Yeah!” He said. “Something like that.”
Juliet smiled. “From the looks of it, I’d say he’d a regular rodeo Romeo.”
Just like that, Jack was deeply in love with her. The way the corner of her mouth quirked as she gave him the nickname, the way her hands clasped in front of her, the look she gave him. It was enough to ruin the newly christened Rodeo Romeo.
“Jules?” An unfamiliar man came up, sliding a hand around Juliet’s waist. “Who’s this?”
Juliet sighed, a deep and unsatisfied sigh as she shifted the man’s hand off her hip. “Darling, this is Agent Whiskey. Agent, this is my boyfriend, Agent Paris.”
And with one word, she had broken his heart. Jack drew a breath in, an action that went entirely unnoticed by everyone but Ginger. She put a comforting hand on his arm. “It’s wonderful to meet you Agent Paris. Jack and I are going to see if we can’t find Champ, I’m sure you’ll want to meet him.”
Jack nodded halfheartedly as she pulled him off. Suddenly, he wasn’t very happy about meeting the new agents.
———
You sighed, watching Agent Whiskey get dragged away. He seemed so nice, and his brilliant brown eyes were so deep, you could’ve easily gotten lost in them all night. Instead, your boyfriend had to walk up, ruining the moment.
“Babe,” he said, kissing your neck, much to your disgust. “Want to dance?”
“No thanks,” you said sourly, hoping he understood your tone as you walked away, heading towards the bathrooms.
Sliding down the wall, you sighed, adjusting your shoes so they weren’t so tight, and finally abandoning them altogether.
“Knock knock,” a familiar voice said, knocking on the bathroom door. “Can I come in?”
Unlocking the door and allowing Eggsy to slide in, you smiled, seeing him holding two drinks. Accepting one and immediately swallowing down the soda sweetened liquid, you collapsed back against the wall. “Fuck me Eggsy, I hate him.”
“So break up with him,” Eggsy said plainly, joining you on the floor. “You’re an adult. Tell him he sucks complete ass and run right into the strong and manly arms of your cowboy Romeo.”
You punched his arm playfully. “Firstly,” you said. “It’s rodeo Romeo. And secondly, I am not in love with Agent Whiskey.”
Eggsy raised an eyebrow at you. “Yes. You are.”
“Am not.”
“Are to.”
You burst into laughter. “We sound like children,” you realized. “What was in that drink?”
“A bit of whiskey, some coke, a few ice cubes,” Eggsy recited. “Now go get your man.”
Rolling your eyes, you stood and smiled. “Maybe I will.”
You headed off to the balcony, intent on clearing your head. It was barren, the cold weather deterring most from braving the outside. You sighed, leaning against the railing and looking out at Statesman’s garden. It was beautifully kept, with fields of trees you assumed grew fruit in the warmer months.
A rustling broke you out of your thoughts. Looking down, you saw Jack wandering the gardens, his mask still on. He looked up, seeing you and smiling. “Ain’t this like, a big part of your story?” He asked.
You nodded. “Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” You said, leaning over so you could see Jack better. “She’s wondering why he has his name, because that is the only thing preventing their relationship.”
“Yeah I was never into Shakespeare.”
You gasped. “Really? Romeo and Juliet is an undeniable classic! Hold on, I’m coming down, and when I do, you are in for one hell of a literature lesson.”
Hurrying down the stairs and into the gardens, you met Jack under the balcony. “I cannot believe you’ve never read Romeo and Juliet,” you grumbled to yourself.
“I never said that,” Jack said. “I’ve read it.”
You smiled, following his aimlessly wandering feet. “It was Shakespear’s greatest comedy, a work of absolute genius.”
“Back up,” Jack interrupted. “Comedy?”
“Yeah, comedy,” you said. “Shakespeare was incredibly, well, I don’t want to say he was anti-love, but he wrote Romeo and Juliet to poke fun at couples who said they were soulmates. After all, Romeo and Juliet spanned about three days time from start to finish.”
You continued to go into detail about the intricacies of Shakespeare, wasting away a good portion of the night. Jack was an excellent listener, occasionally asking a question that sent you on a tangent, but always quiet and respectful while you talked.
Finally, when the clock tolled twelve, you two headed back to the gala.
“It was nice getting to know you,” you said softly, not wanting to enter the building again. “Agent Paris is kind of a jerk about me talking to other men.”
“Oh my god, is there any redeeming thing about him?” Jack asked.
“Not that I can tell.”
Jack took your hands. “So break up with him. Find a man who’ll treat you right.”
You stared deep into his eyes, into the depth and complexities he kept hidden behind a deceptively simple brown color. “A man like you?”
Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he cupped your cheek and kissed you, molding his face to yours and satisfying that craving that had building in you since Paris.
“Jules?”
Jack broke away, sliding out of sight so quickly you had to wonder if you’d only imagined him. Eggsy came up to you, confused and a bit concerned. “Jules? Are you okay?”
You nodded slowly. “Yeah. Never better.”
That night, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep. The ghost of Jack’s lips kept waking you, until you were forced to pull a robe on and open your balcony so you could get some fresh air and hopefully clear your head.
Settling on the stone and leaning your forehead against the railing, you stared out into the Statesman stables. “Romeo, Romeo,” you said, mostly to yourself as a comfort. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I'll no longer be a Capulet.” You had memorized large portions of the story in order to keep yourself calm during Kingsman training, and even now, the familiar passage eased your troubles.
At least, until someone responded.
“I take thee at thy word. Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized. Henceforth I never will be Romeo.”
You stood, looking out at the stables. Standing there, lit by the light of his phone, was Jack.
“Are you reading that off your phone?” You asked, a laugh bubbling in your throat.
“You’re getting the lines wrong!” Jack called back, coming closer so you could hear him properly.
Laughing, you leaned against the railing and stared at Jack. “You kissed me earlier.”
“You’re still getting the lines wrong.”
“Jack!” You said happily, unable to not laugh. “I’m serious!”
Jack’s grin was obvious even from your distance. “I did kiss you earlier. Are you mad about it?”
“No.”
“So shall we make love like your namesake?” He asked. “Run away and get married after having known each other, what, a few hours?”
You shook your head. “No. Because then we’d both have to die.”
Stepping closer, Jack shrugged. “Yeah, that would throw a wrench in my plans to woo and marry you.”
You yawned, and Jack smiled. “Does the lady need her beauty sleep?”
You gave him a very ladylike middle finger. “Goodnight Romeo.”
“Goodnight my fair Juliet.”
The next morning, you went out for a walk with Eggsy and Paris, walking by the stables and admiring the horses.
“Juliet!”
You turned, seeing Jack atop a beautiful black horse. He rode with ease, as if he’d been doing it all his life. “Fancy seein’ you here,” he said. “Y’all sticking around?”
Eggsy shrugged. “Jules wanted to stay for a bit. Airplanes make her wonky, so we’re leaving later tonight.”
Jack’s face visibly fell. “Aw damn. I liked having a beauty like you walkin’ around.”!
“Leave off,” Paris said, wrapping you in his arms. “She’s taken.”
“Might wanna reconsider that one,” Jack said with a wink. “What’d’ya say Juliet? Wanna take a ride with your Rodeo Romeo? Saddle’s got room for two.”
You didn’t even hesitate. Squirming out of Paris’s grip, you eagerly jumped the fence and joined Jack. “Just as long as we don’t die at the end.”
Jack helped you up in the saddle, kissing you long and hard. “Well, like I said, I’m not one for the original story anyway.”
He rode off with you, leaving Paris and Eggsy behind. Holding you tight as he jumped a fence, he continued out, beyond the orchards and the buildings, until you two had reached a small, run down church.
After helping you off the horse, Jack pulled you inside, where there was light and warmth.
“You’re really not helping our horribly cliche love story,” you said.
Jack raised an eyebrow, pulling you down onto a couch and wrapping you in his arms. “Am I? It’s been such a long time since I read Romeo and Juliet.”
You laughed. “Clearly. Although this is very close to the part where they both die.”
“And we definitely aren’t doing that, right?”
You nodded. “Definitely not.”
Jack looked around. “One day,” he said decisively. “I’m going to marry you. Right here, in this church. I promise.”
Smiling, you pressed a kiss to his nose. “Sure you will Romeo.”
Three years later, he asked you to marry him.
You, as if it were any question at all, said yes.
After all, how could you say no to your Romeo?
#kingsman the golden circle#kingsman#agent whiskey#jack 'whiskey' daniels#agent whiskey x reader#agent whiskey x you#Pedro Pascal#My writing
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