#hi no one asked for this i just wanted to make it lmao

[caramelkoo]

no questions asked— jjk

Jeon jungkook wants nothing more than to get settled with his girlfriend, but what if her fear of commitment makes him take a step back? Will he do it, or will he be able to changer her mind for good?

pairing : Jungkook X reader

genre : established relationship, smut, fluff

word count : 6.6k (im begging for forgiveness)

Based on this ask <33

warnings : nsfw, strong language, mature, oc is an anxious girly (same), mentions of emotionally unavailable parents, jungkook is a man of dreams, simp boyfriend jungkook, car sex, unprotected sex (be safe), begging, reference of titanic if you squint, yeah that's pretty much it.

a/n : this took million business days lmao but finally it's here. the sweetest anon requested a drabble but i couldn't do it and as much as i tried to make it shorter, it got stretched to 6k words 😭 so im deeply sorry anon. the rest of you who enjoy longer fics, dig in. I love you guys so much, you might not know this but yall are my besties for resties. kisses. 💌

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Your boyfriend is going to propose to you.

Oh god

Oh. my. God.

Anxiety is not a foreign feeling for you. Although this time, it’s an indescribable sort. Something which is lingering in the deepest pit of your stomach for a lack of better word. Besides, there’s a mayhem inside your head, the voices are loud and intimidating, causing you to bite your lip to a point where they bleed while also staring at nothing. 

Jungkook has been nothing but secretive— the poor boy has no idea that you have already seen the navy blue box sitting inside his side of the drawer. You can swear it was totally unintentional.

In your defense, you had been searching for your glasses and that was the only place left to fish around. Nobody could have prepared you for the utter shock when your eyes fell on that box and so for a minute or two you just stood there, horrifyingly still and stunned. However, you recovered quickly, because to be quite honest it was about time one of you mustered up enough courage to ask the question.

It’s supposed to make you thrilled right? So why does something feel… off? 

“Penny for your thoughts?”, as soon as Cherry’s voice reaches your ears, you snap out of it and flash her a forced smile. 

“Yeah-” you begin, “Yeah uh- I’m just thinking about nothing in particular.” 

“_____ you’re an amazing girl but you gotta work on those lying skills.”

A chuckle leaves your mouth. You shouldn’t even have bothered in the first place, the girl can read you like a book. 

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours huh?” 

She picks up the book before scanning it with the barcode scanner all the while you marvel if you should tell her or just let it go, but then you also know how she would become a pain in the ass if you don’t spill the beans to her. Anyway, she can;t make you overthink it any more than you already have. 

You bite your lower lip before saying, “I feel like Jungkook is going to propose.” 

If looks alone could kill, you would have been buried deep by now with the way the man wearing an olive green cardigan, probably in his 50s, gives you side eye when Cherry drops the book with a loud thud on the counter. 

You wince.

“I’m sorry what?” 

When you subtly signal her to pick what she’s dropped, she takes a hold of the book, apologizes to the man who— you’re hundred percent sure hates your guts now, and resumes her work. 

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“Ha! Girl you better start telling me more or none of us are going home today.”

She’s talking to you but her hands keep shuffling between scanning the books and expeditiously typing on the keyboard.

A spark of hesitation finds a way inside your heart. The thing is, you’re not sure. Do you want to marry the love of your life? Absolutely. Do you think you can keep the marriage going and stable? No. 

There you said it.

And that kills you because jeopardising your bond and connection with Jungkook is the last thing you want to do.

Maybe, it’s because nobody in your family has been able to keep their inner spark alive after they had gotten married or you might as well blame it on the relationship your own parents have had before your eyes. 

For everyone who couldn’t see past the walls of your house, your parents were an ideal couple. A pair who were equally efficient and successful in their respective areas of life. With your father being a renowned businessman and your mother holding the title of a world famous fashion designer, they couldn’t have been a better partner for each other, right?

Wrong. Too bad you had the honor of being an onlooker of their facade slipping away before getting replaced by their real impudent selves. 

But that’s all you could do though. You were merely just an audience. Someone who could see everything shatter before her eyes and not do a single thing to put an end to it. 

Constant fights, fuming with jealousy over one of them achieving more than the other, sabotaging each other.

All hell broke loose when they began making you take sides. 

You think mommy is better don’t you, honey?

You should be proud of your dad, ____. You’re living such a luxurious life thanks to me. 

For the love of god you were five. What does a five year old know about luxury or human ego? What could you have possibly known about who is better? In your eyes, they were your mom and dad and not some squish mellows placed side by side from which you had to take your pick. Let’s not even start with the emotional unavailability they provided you with.

A knot lodges in your throat and you struggle to get the words out. “I happen to see the box inside his drawer”

“You’re sure it had a ring inside- Wait, don't answer that”, she shakes her head as if she just asked the most ridiculous question ever.

No shit.

“But that’s a good thing right? I mean you guys have been seeing each other for a while now and marriage is the final stop.” she continues and you can’t help but feel terrible, because she is making sense. 

A sigh leaves you, “Yeah no- I mean yeah it is but I didn’t expect him to take the initiative so suddenly. No hints were dropped at all. Marriage is, gosh, I can’t believe I’m saying this but it seems intimidating to me.” 

The queue has finally dissipated at this point so she faces you fully showcasing her engrossment in your dilemma. The girl feeds off drama but refuses to get involved in one.

Her expression morphs into something between horrified and sympathetic. “_____, is that because of your parents?” 

Your heart skips a beat. This whole time you and only you had authority over this thought that your fear of marriage is deeply rooted in your own parents’ fucked up relationship. A belief that lay sly and unseen.

Only after those words left Cherry’s mouth did you realise how venomous they sound. It makes you aware that the fear was not as concealed as you intended to keep it. What are you supposed to do when you find out that somebody else knows about your deepest terrors? Run? Hide? Or simply not say anything? 

Your mouth feels suddenly dry. “What?” 

Cherry takes a hold of your palm and rubs it gently, “If it is, I want you to know that it’s not the case for everyone. Marriage is a beautiful concept, a lovely commitment. Are there some pitfalls to it? Yes. But that’s the beauty of it. The way two people come together and resolve them-”

Your phone buzzes inside your pocket causing you to flinch. Releasing your hands from her hold, you take it out and see your grandmother’s number stare up at you. 

“I’ll just be back.” you excuse yourself just as a woman places a stack of books on the counter.

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“Hey, beautiful” you greet her, a smile lighting up your entire face.

“My baby, did I catch you at the wrong time?” her voice is like a balm to your heart. So warm and comforting. It reminds you of your movie nights with her where you didn’t have to be anything or pretend. You just had to exist and she made it worth it. Always. 

“Now you know even the devil himself can’t stop me from talking to you.” 

A loud chortle reaches your ears and you imagine her throwing her head back, laughing. 

“I was calling to ask if you and your eye candy of a boyfriend are visiting home this year for thanksgiving, dear?” 

Dear lord, you can’t believe you forgot about that.

Your eyes widen, and just when you think you could bubble up some other lie, she speaks up, “You forgot, didn’t you?” 

Yeah, bold of you to assume you can do that and get away. You actually need to work on your lying skills. For whatever reason. You want to pluck your eyelashes out one by one because of how gloomy she sounds.

“I’m genuinely sorry, grams.” pinching the bridge of your nose you continue, “I’ve just been busy with work and barely making ends meet. I promise this is the first and last time I let it slip my mind.” 

With the job you have, there’s only so much cash you can count and while you would love to make a career out of writing, the thought of publishing your own book sends shivers down your spine.

Every time you open the draft a new mistake pops up, taking a percentage of your self confidence down the drain. You’re only human. A microscopic slip catches your attention and you start questioning your life choices. 

“Honey, come home and give yourself some time off, what do you youngsters like to call it? Oh yes, grind. Yeah?” 

It’s your turn to laugh. “Wow someone has been too into love island lately.”

Cherry raises her eyebrows from across the room and you mouth her the word ‘grandma’. She nods with a smile on her face, going back to work. 

A long stretch of silence hangs in the air before you hear her ask, “_____, what else is wrong?” 

The smile which has been adorning your face this whole time instantly drops. You blink.

Once

Twice

Thrice 

“I don’t understand.” Liar.

“You know what I mean, baby. I want you to tell me more, because I know something has been bothering you. What is it?”

Humans are so funny sometimes. They can be as close to you as your own soul and not have a hint of your torment. Meanwhile, there is your grandmother, who despite being so far away from you just….. knew. But again, it has always been like this hasn’t it? 

Whenever you got tired of your parents throwing stuff around the house, making each other lick the floors, trying to make their own and your life a living hell, she knew. 

She was the one who allowed you to cry, and assured you that she would not call you dramatic if she happened to hear your sobs.

You were allowed to cry,

You were allowed to ask for help,

You were allowed to not hold back.

Sucking in a deep breath, you release it, “Everything else is perfect, grams.”

Mr William is always the first person to greet you everyday when you reach the apartment. He’s been working as a guard for years now and you’ve grown quite familiar with him. While being the sweetest man you’ve ever come across, he also brings his wife’s yummiest tarts for you whenever she makes them. Arguably, they deserve more hype than they get.

“She knows how much you love her tarts” he says, making you feel immense gratitude towards his kindness. 

This particular night, he seems…. restless. He’s shifting from one foot to another as you shut the cab’s door behind you. Striding over to him, you mentally try your best to figure out his uneasiness. 

Clearing your throat, your throat as you ask, “Is everything alright, Mr William?” 

Only after he hears your voice, he gains his composure. Or so he tries. 

He hands you a piece of paper which feels a bit wet and you wonder what could have been so intense that the man began having clammy palms.

It’s nearly concerning, not to mention it doesn’t help with your own anxiety at all. If not, shoot it up. 

“Your boyfriend dropped by around lunch time, miss. He handed me this and asked me to give it to you as soon as you come back from work.”

He couldn’t have given it to you yesterday when he was with you in the first place? Weird.

“I see, but why are you so tense? Has something happened?” 

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “My wife has been sick and I was supposed to leave early but I figured it would be better if I gave it to you safely before going home to her.” 

Fuck

“You could have given this to me later. Your wife comes first, sir.” you gulp, “Please, I appreciate your gesture but she needs you more. Thank you so much and please let me know if I can be of help.”

He releases an empty chuckle. “Thank you, Miss” 

With one last nod you walk inside the building while also hoping he doesn’t call you for help. Not because you won’t do anything it takes to help him, but because you hope it wouldn’t come to it. The moment you shut the apartment door behind and turn on the light, the piece of paper steals your attention. Without waiting any further, you unfold it, coming across Jungkook’s writing. 

The note alone feels like he whispered it into your ear before placing the softest kiss on your skin. Your lips stretch into a serene smile as you stride over to the bedroom, turning the doorknob as your gaze catches a purple bodycon resting on top of your bed. It is accompanied with a bouquet of pink tulips as well as a bar of Dubai chocolate. 

Your head that has been nothing short of a commotion is now finally at peace. Not entirely but at peace nonetheless.

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Jungkook was 12 when he went on his first roller coaster ride. He was, like every other child, afraid. Afraid that he might fall and hurt himself so bad, he wouldn’t ever be able to get up. The roller coaster had a massive drop followed by a corkscrew which took him upside down. Until the moment Jungkook saw a woman in yellow dress buying a bunch of tulips from the flower shop he very often visited, he had never felt his stomach bottom out as strongly as it did during that drop back then.

There she was, chatting with the florist as if they’re best friends. He could see her behind the glass picking out the pink tulips before sniffing them. Meanwhile, Jungkook stood across the road, soaked and enchanted as he wondered if he should ask for her number or chicken out. Eventually, the latter won. 

But here’s the thing, Jungkook is not one for losing. He hates losing, even the term makes him want to peel his own skin off. 

He saw her hair first, becoming curly locks reaching down to her waist and just above her hips. Granted that his line of sight only allowed him to see her side profile, he assumed she was gorgeous. It was not unlikely for him to see beautiful women on a daily basis, but something about her just sucked him in. His eyes could not leave her face and he believed even if they tried, he would pluck them out just to punish them. Was it weird that his hands itched to hold a woman he doesn’t even know? 

What’s her name?

Where does she live?

What’s her favorite color?

How does she like her coffee?

There’s a japanese phrase called koi no yokan which means that you eventually will fall in love with a person you meet. You’re going to grow so fond of that person that you would want to see no one by your side but them. She was that person for him. 

He rubs his hands for the nth time in a futile attempt to warm them up, waiting outside ____’s building. How is this evening going so slow? He has been here for perhaps half an hour now, so why does it feel like it’s been a decade? 

And funnily enough, the only person who can put him out of his misery is _____. At this point, the guy fears he wouldn’t be able to so much as look her in the eye, but not doing that will be the end of him too.

He looks down and lets his hands run over his black button down shirt, wondering if she would like it. She loved seeing him in black on the first date. A loud click clack of heels grab his attention, perking his ears up. He looked up and there she was in all her glory. 

Jungkook releases a breath and rubs his chest as if his heart hurts. As if it’s telling him how unworthy he is of this woman who is walking up to him, who may be as nervous as him but still chose him as her man. 

The woman who could have anyone she wanted wrapped around her pinky finger gave her days, nights and evenings to him. She smiled at him, for him and if he was lucky, because of him.

_____ stops before him while he’s still adjusting to the sight of her. “How do I look?” 

Unreal, exquisite and way out of his league.

He shakes his head from side to side, thinking of a single word that would suffice the answer to that. He fails and so instead he runs his fingers down her forearm until he reaches her soft hands and takes it into his own cold ones. 

Placing a chaste kiss on her knuckles, he begins. “My imagination of you in this dress has got nothing on this vision.” 

Her face morphs into the softest expression of love, “And exactly how many times have you imagined me in this dress, Jeon Jungkook?” 

He takes a step forward, his chest almost touching hers. “I can’t answer that. You want to know why?” 

“Why?” Her voice is emotionless. His thumb grazes her lower lip as he tries not to smudge her nude lipstick. “Because if I do, we’ll have to go back into your apartment and try not to wake your neighbours up.” She swats his chest and softly pushes him back, dissolving into a giggle. 

“You’re looking quite handsome yourself.” she says as her eyes shamelessly check him out. His sleeves are halfway folded stopping just below his elbow, beautifying his tattooed forearms.

He’s also wearing his favorite blue baggy jeans with his usual black chunky boots. The same ones he goes for when he knows _____ might not be able to bear the pain caused by her heels, so he ends up swapping them with the boots.

He would argue carrying her all the way to her apartment instead, but settles elseways. 

Jungkook opens the car door for her and only after she’s well seated, he runs to his side and takes off. 

The ride to the restaurant is quiet despite the obvious tension that doesn't go unnoticed by either him or her. As much as he would like to spend the rest of the night snuggled into bed with her, he knows there is something more significant than that. So instead he indulges in caressing her thigh. 

“After you, angel.” He places a hand on the small of her back. 

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The ambience looks straight out of the movies. Like a paradise. Violinists are playing a chorus of Fuck her gently by Tenacious D far across the room. 

Jungkook catches an unknown look on her face. “Something’s wrong?” 

She shakes her head, flashing him a smile. “I love this song.”

He places a tiny kiss on her temple. “I know, baby. C’mon.” 

You know how women have this killer instinct of knowing if and when somebody’s watching them? It’s like they have a separate pair of googly eyes on the back of their head to protect them from creeps. 

From the moment you have entered the place, the man in the wine shirt has been making a hole in your face with the way he’s been staring at you. 

Is your dress too revealing? Are you showing too much skin?

“Oh I forgot to tell you. Your grandmother called earlier today.” Jungkook disrupts your thoughts. 

You gulp down the last piece of steak before answering. “Let me guess she asked you to join her for thanksgiving?” He nods, a bright smile on his face. “I told her I would love to.” 

A cheeky smile unfurls slowly on your face. Jungkook loves your grandmother. Maybe a little bit more than you do. Just a tiny bit though. Last year when you and he visited her, he was the first person apart from you to get a hug out of her.

Your grandma is not much of a hugger by the way. Her hugs are totally exclusive. 

“I’m sure she loves having my ‘eye candy of a boyfriend’ there.” 

Jungkook snorts, placing his fork down. “She called me an eye candy?” 

He dissolves into a fit of laughter when you answer his question with a nod. 

“See now that’s the biggest achievement I have had in a while. I mean what are the odds your wife’s grandma calls your an eye candy-”

Something sours in your stomach. The steak here tastes awful or maybe it’s just you feeling pathetic that as soon as he says ‘wife’ your expression morphs into something so dreadful that it causes him to stop. What are the odds that you just gave him a reality check and dragged him out of a fool’s paradise?

“Angel, what’s-” 

You stand abruptly, cutting him off yet again. His eyes bob all over you, and then a sad frown puckers between his brows. 

“I’ll just be back. I need to use the washroom.” You say as you grab your handbag as quickly as you can before leaving him there. Confused and wondering what the fuck just happened?

Few minutes later, just as you’re walking outside the washroom and making a way towards your table someone’s voice causes you to stop midway. 

“Excuse me.” 

Turning to face the person, you come face to face with the same man from earlier. The one wearing a wine colored shirt along with a nasty expression. You believe he’s trying to look cocky but is failing miserably.

“Can I help you?” 

A slow smile spreads over his mouth. “I couldn’t help but notice that the man you’re here with seems to upset you in some way.”

An awkward chuckle leaves you. “The man is my boyfriend and I don’t think it concerns you if he’s upsetting me or not.” 

He walks a little closer. Oh no, this is bad. 

“Fair enough,” he shrugs, “But clearly he’s not being a good boyfriend, is he?” 

The audacity of this man.

You huff out a frustrated breath, “Listen, you need to shut up and stay within your limits. It’s not healthy going around poking your nose into everyone’s business.” 

His sly smile grows even more as he steps closer than before. 

The hair on your body stands up, and not in a good way, but in a very uncomfortable way. You suddenly regret the idea of leaving Jungkook’s side. Bad, bad decision. 

Currently, you have two options. You can either just walk off and act like nothing happened, which by the way, is a safe option or you can kick the man in the balls and then act like nothing happened.

Since you're much more accustomed to the former option, you decide to do just that but when his hands grip your wrist with an iron grip, you settle on the latter. 

You knee him between the legs with an intention to hurt him as he grunts in pain, his hands gripping where you just kicked him. 

“You fucking bitch.” 

Before he can say anything further, you storm off. Your phone buzzes inside your handbag and you automatically assume it to be Jungkook’s call. As soon as you spot him across the room, you feel the clouds parting, there’s a feeling threatening to arise. It’s something between protected and anguished. 

Anguished because you let your mind speak so deafeningly that it silenced the oh so loud love Jungkook has for you. And protected because you know for a fact that if he had any idea about what that man just did to you, he would not think twice before dragging him by the hair before bringing him to his knees in front of you to apologize. 

He stands once he sees you and you waste no time running towards him. Your arms go around him as you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck. His arms immediately embracing you in return, securing you against his chest.

It feels warm.

Concern laces his voice as he says, “I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you. Breathe” 

You don’t even realise you’re panting unless he says that. You’re aware that at this point the way you flung yourself at him must have got everyone’s attention. But you genuinely don’t care. It might as well be an auditorium full of people watching you hug your boyfriend like an anchor, you just don’t care. 

You realise that’s exactly what Jungkook is. Your anchor. Someone who didn’t even ask as to what happened before he straight away began consoling you. 

His hand envelops the back of your head in a protective way while the other soothes your back. 

“Do you want to leave? We can leave right now if you want to.”

“Yes, please.”

His body shakes as though he just nodded. “All right, let me pay real quick and we’ll leave yeah?”

Your voice is muffled against his chest. “Yeah.”

You suck in a sharp breath as he lets you go. The small folder on the table grabs your attention. He opens it only to find a note inside of it saying— “It’s on me, gorgeous”. 

You can see the wheels in his mind turning, but before he starts asking you any questions which may or may not cause a breakdown of yours, you say, “I’ll explain it to you outside. Can we please go?” 

“Let me see wh-”

“Please?” He lets out a defeated sigh and nods. “Yeah- Yeah let’s go.” 

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At first when Jungkook saw that note, the first emotion that he felt was rage and a very serious one at that. But it was soon replaced by realization. It doesn’t take a scientist to figure out that something nasty went down after _____ left to use the washroom. Something he can’t wait to get to the bottom of. Nevertheless, he didn’t want her to be pressured to answer the more obvious question. 

Jungkook’s girl is attractive. She’s kind and empathetic and fucking stunning which makes her worthy of all the attention she gets. Of course men are going to want to be with her. 

Initially, it bothered him. A lot. 

Now, though? He’s grown rather used to it. However, it has never come to having someone pay for her in a restaurant. Even the thought of someone so much as speaking to her in an inhumanely manner makes him want to punch a hole through a wall. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

The silence is too loud inside the car. He can hear ____’s heart beating loudly or is it his own?

She’s leaning back with her head against the headrest. When she doesn’t respond, Jungkook speaks again, “_____ baby, will you please at least look at me?” 

Her eyes connect with his and he flashes her the softest of smiles.

Taking her hand, he kisses the inside of her wrist where he can feel her pulse. 

Thump thump thump. 

“I want you to give me something, angel. Anything.” 

He can see her gulp before admitting, “There was um… there was a guy outside the washroom and he kind of tried to force himself on me,” she closes her eyes for a brief moment, “Maybe I’m just being dramatic, but I handled him.” 

Jungkook’s stomach drops. He was right. His hands fly out to open the car door before _____ holds him back. “Don’t. I said I handled it.”

He turns back, his voice leaking with anger along with something more barbaric. “And I’m proud that you did, but if I don’t go in and beat that asshole into a new one I won’t be able to call myself a man worthy of you anymore. I need him to know that he can’t fuck with my girl and go about his goddamn day.” “Jungkook, please. I can’t take it anymore. Please stop.” 

And he does. For now. 

He leans back, running his hands over his face with frustration. For a few minutes he and ____ just stare outside the front glass of the car. The parking lot slowly gets empty as people leave for their homes one by one. 

Just when he thinks  _____ has dozed off, her voice reaches him. “Can I get one more hug?” 

“Come here.” 

He takes her into a warm embrace before kissing the top of her head, settling his lips there. His anger has yet not fully dissipated, but having her so close calms his heart. It calms his whole being. Her touch, her breath against his skin, her presence heals something in him.

Therefore, he made up his mind about spending his whole life with her. The little slip of words, which by the way was totally unintentional, soured _____'s expression and that didn’t go unnoticed by him. 

She’s scared but he fully intends to let her know that she doesn’t have to.

______ unwraps herself from his arms and pushes back. Just enough for their noses to touch.

She shakes her head, “Don’t give me those eyes.” 

Jungkook holds back a smile. “What eyes, angel?” 

“The same ones you give me when you want something dirty to happen. Those big brown eyes of yours.”

He lets a chuckle slip out. “I’m down if you are.” 

When she offers him her own laugh, gosh it’s as though he comes alive. If he could bottle up the sound, he would. Something passes in _____’s eyes. Lust? Desire? He can’t pinpoint. 

He wants to kiss the hell out of her though and he wants to do it desperately. Her eyes drop to his mouth and he takes it as a sign to lean forward and press his mouth against hers. 

Her lips part ever so slightly followed by her gripping Jungkook’s collar to bring him even closer. So close as if she wants their souls to intertwine. 

The feeling is very much mutual. 

She gets up from the passenger’s seat without breaking the kiss and straddles his lap. Her legs on either side of his thigh as their core’s touch. Jungkook is not sure how long he can endure this sweet pain of waiting. 

In all sincerity, he’s been holding himself back from the very moment he saw her walking up to him in that dress. Do with that information what you will. 

Now, he just wants to say fuck it and get inside her— only that he can’t, because he wants her to take her time and ask for it. Then and then only he will fuck her. If it’s inside this car then so be it. 

The kiss is electric and filled with passion, tingling his skin in all the right places as she matches his enthusiasm with her own.

______ pulls back with a deep breath, leaving Jungkook panting heavily. 

“Please.” she begs. 

A strand of hair falls on her face. He tucks it behind her ear. “Please what baby?” 

“Please fuck me, Jungkook. I want you so bad and I want you right now.” she whines.

He grins. “At your service, ma’am.” 

He hears _____’s light chuckle as he gets out of the car, carrying her with him while also making sure she doesn’t hit her head on the hood. She detaches herself from him once they’re out and settles in the back seat. Only after ensuring she’s comfortable enough, Jungkook follows her. 

His body lays on top of her and he wastes no time as their mouths collide. Her finger grip the hair on his nape and he groans with pleasure, his cock going thick. He rubs it on her lower stomach to show her how much he wants her, gaining a moan out of her. 

Jungkook’s head goes fuzzy with every passing second. He almost comes when she lifts her hips up and rubs a slow circle against his cock. 

“Fuck.” He groans, pulling back from the kiss. _____’s cheeks are heated and lips are swollen. He did that. Her man did that. 

Suddenly, he’s grateful for the tinted glass and his big car. 

_____ lifts her head up and kisses his sweaty cheek, swiping his forehead with her palm. “You’re sweating, honey.” 

“Yeah, I tend to do that in your presence. Do you know how hard it was for me to stay sane after seeing you look so unbelievably gorgeous?” 

She passes him a lazy smile, “You’ve always been so good at controlling yourself, haven’t you?” 

“Not anymore.” He sits up, knees on either side of her body and starts unbuckling his belt all the while panting with excitement. His pants slide halfway down letting his cock spring free. Thick, angry and leaking with precum. His shirt goes next.

______’s eyes flash with lust as she bites her lower lip. The straps of her dress have slipped down, leaving her tits bare and open for Jungkook.

“I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.” he leans forward as she runs a hand up his bare spine, hooking her legs over his hip.

“Please.” she whispers. 

A loud thunder outside the car grabs Jungkook’s attention. Nice, he’s so horny he didn’t even realise that it’s raining. Another rumble of thunder drowns their panting breath but he still only focuses on the woman beneath him. The goddess of a woman who trusts him with her body. How lucky he is to call her his own. 

She brushes his hair out of his face, her thumb dusting over the mole on the bridge of his nose before her hand follows the path of his tattooed arm, his rib, his ass, until she wraps a fist around his dick. 

He pushes into her hand. “I need to grab the condoms from the console, angel.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, the car filling with the pants and whimpers before she says, “I want you bare. I’m on the pill.” 

Jungkook has never gone without condom nor has he considered going without one, but this woman right here just asked him to get inside her bare and fuck if it doesn’t tempt him.

And so he gives in, but not before asking, “Are you sure?” 

“As sure as one can be.” 

He nods, bringing his lips back to hers. His hand finds her thong under the dress as he slides it down her legs. Then he strokes a single line up and down her slit, wetting his finger with her cum. When he brings the same finger to his mouth and sucks on it, _____ all but whimpers. 

His cock follows next and he does the same with it, rubbing himself up and down her slit as he coats himself in her before he presses his thumb down on the head of his cock, curls his hips forward, and pushes into her. 

Tortuously slowly, inch by fucking inch. 

She’s so warm and tight for him. He’s not sure how long he can take before he shoots his load inside of her. 

“More.” she pleads, her face morphing into the most beautiful expression of pleasure. 

Jungkook pulls back and pushes again, watching more of a length disappear inside of her. He’s not even halfway in and she’s already crying out his name. 

Leaning in, he bites her neck in an attempt to give her his all. All his love, all his nights and all his life. The question is at the tip of his tongue but considering what happened inside, he quickly holds himself back. 

“You’re doing so good for me, my angel. Taking me so well,” He thrusts again. “You’re made for me, aren’t you?” 

She cries out. 

“What was that?” She throws her head back. “Yes. Oh my god” 

Thrust. “Yes, what baby? I’m gonna need you to say it.” 

Jungkook takes her nipple in his mouth, sucking on it until she cries out again, “I’m made for you. Fuck.”

He releases the nipple with a loud pop. “That’s right you are.” His pelvic bone is flush with hers, ____’s legs as wide as possible to accommodate him. She dusts her fingertips up and down his spine while he slowly kisses along her jaw.

When she pushes her heels into his ass, urging him to move, he pulls out part way before pushing back in again. 

She lets out a moan quickly followed by his own. _____’s hands run over Jungkook’s abs, nipples, and wrap around his shoulders. 

He’s fucking her slowly, taking his time, feeling her body and letting her feel his too. Every brush, every graze, every breath is precious to him.

Soft and intimate. 

So when the next words leave Jungkook’s mouth, he blames it on the moment. “Marry me.”

_____’s eyes which were closed earlier, savoring the very moment, pop open and his movement halts. 

“What?” 

“Fuck. Okay, I know this is not a position or place a woman wants to be proposed in, but I have to say this before I go insane. _____, I know you’re scared and I also know the reason behind it. Of course, I won’t ask you why you kept that part a secret from me, because I respect you and want you to take your time. But baby,” he brushes his thumb over her cheekbone, “I need you to know that I will die before I let anything like that go down between us. I love you so much you don’t even realise. Sometimes I even shock myself with how much I cherish you. You’re a gift to me, a gift which brings out the best not just in me but in everyone she meets.”

He places a small kiss on her forehead before continuing, “I can go anywhere, see everything but it still wouldn’t match the level of affection I hold for you in my heart. Still wouldn’t match the beauty of your smile, you amazing woman. You’re all I have ever wanted. So please, make me the happiest motherfucker in the world by saying ye-”

“Yes” 

‘What?”

“Yes, I’ll marry you. Now will you please shut up fuck me like you promised, husband?” 

He bites her jaw, “Oh, I’ll fuck you so nice you’ll be begging for more, wife.”

Soon enough, _____’s lower lip trembles as her orgasm takes over, and he has the privilege to watch it all. The fluttering of her lashes, the marks of her nail down his arm and the way she calls him her husband again when she’s able to find her words. 

He’s so gone.

About half an hour later when he asks her again as to what changed her mind about marriage, she says something so deep yet in such a casual way, he wants to cry. 

“When I hugged you inside, you didn’t ask questions. You just let me be and that may seem like a miniscule thing for someone else, but for me it was enough. Enough to stay with you until I turn all wrinkly and grey haired.” 

[hoonieyun]

this is where it ends ⋆˙⟡♡

days of dodging your boyfriend after your fight finally lead you to the answer you've been looking for (read part one here) heeseung 𐐪♡𐑂 jongseong 𐐪♡𐑂 jaeyun 𐐪♡𐑂 sunghoon genre: aaaaangsttttt!!! angst!! heartbreak.. OOF warnings: toxic relationship, bad coping mechanisms, profanity, mentions of drinking as an addiction, gaslighting, arguing, 18+

hoonieyun notes: WHEW... lowkey was like.. damn this shit is TOO angsty so sorry in advance but im obsessed with angst lately and watching xo kitty did not help because that show was a rollercoaster LMAO anyways i hope you guys enjoy this sad piece of work because i have more coming with my vday anthology and exes reunited series plus! i've just announced my 1k follower special!

𐐪♡𐑂 @pagemiah @jiiyen @jnysaln @xh01bri @rairaiblog @laurradoesloveu @17ericas @manaah02 @heeseung64 @zorange13 @heartheejake @cloud-lyy @heeweenie @jakesimfromstatefarm @lovelymelon @1-itsneverthatserious-1 @anushkaaaiaiiaiaia

@chvconn3 @heeheeyeoiizz01 @pjselee @malloryaloisia @alienqbrain @jooniesbears-blog @haeeeeefer @firstclassjaylee

heeseung ⋆˚ʚɞ

it had been 3 days since you left heeseung standing in your apartment, dumbfounded and unsure of where you were. you really had hoped he would run after you that night but he didn’t and that seemed to put the nail in the coffin for you. 

were you ready to throw away your relationship all because of this? 

was it worth it to lose the person you love? 

you had pondered on so many questions since that night and each question felt like you were guilt tripping yourself into thinking that your own feelings weren’t valid, like you were trying to convince yourself that you were overreacting and that heeseung was right. 

why were you being so annoying?

but these questions only led to more questions instead of answers.

were you being annoying or were you just tired of not being heard? 

if you hadn’t been the one to constantly ask him to clean up after himself would he have done it on his own? 

why were you trying to come up with reasons to talk yourself back into his arms when you truly knew deep down the answer you were looking for…

you just weren’t ready to come to terms with it. 

so here you were, hurriedly packing what you could before heeseung could come home. and just to your luck, he had arrived much earlier than you anticipated. “yn?” heeseungs says, shock painted across his face as he sees you standing in the hallway with a box of your things. 

“wh- what are you doing?” he asks, eyes falling on the box in your hands. 

both of you knew the answer to that. 

“i think- i can’t do this anymore, hee… 

i did a lot of thinking these past fews days and everything i thought of i found myself trying to make excuses for you. trying to figure out why i was acting this way and why i was going out of my way to make it seem like i was the one causing these issues and stressing myself out and then i realized… 

why was i trying to compromise my own happiness and well being for someone who didn’t care about me? 

for someone who couldn’t simply understand where i was coming from and couldn’t even listen to me when all i would ask for was something so easy as to clean up after yourself. 

heeseung, you’re grown and so am i and i’m done acting like your words and actions don’t hurt solely for the fact that i don’t want to lose you. 

we’re over.” your eyes had tears pooling in them but you refused to let them fall in front of heeseung. 

“what?” heeseung asks, slipping his shoes off and running over to you in an attempt to stop you, reaching for the box but you move out of the way before he can. 

“yn.. can we please talk about this? don’t jump to conclusions just because you’re hurt. this isn’t what you want, what about us? 

are you willing to throw us away because of some petty fight?” and that’s when you knew that you and heeseung weren’t on the same page… at all. 

“that’s what you have to say?” and at this point you had lost the fight to stop the tears from falling. 

“you haven’t even apologized? and now you’re here trying to gaslight me into thinking that what i’m feeling is just the result of a petty fight? 

hee, you never listen to me. you dismissed my feelings and all i asked was you clean up our bedroom because i was tired. i’m sorry but if that was such a hard task then i don’t know what to tell you. 

i’m not jumping to conclusions. heeseung, we’re done.” you say, pushing passed him so you could leave and move on. start new and heal from this pain. 

“really? you’re just going to walk away?” heeseung asks, still refusing to take accountability for his actions. 

“i’m not walking away… you pushed me away.”

“bye, heeseung.”

jongseong ⋆˚ʚɞ

jay hadn’t been able to pick up a bottle of alcohol since that night… 5 months ago. he hadn’t realized he developed a bad habit of drinking all because he couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his loving girlfriend, the one who took care of him, who loved him, who fought for him to make things right, was slowly becoming someone he didn’t love anymore. 

so why was it that now that you two were broken up, he wants nothing more to get back together with you? 

he thought about the day you finally came back. after you ran out in the middle of the night jay didn’t see you for a whole week and by the end of that week, you would be gone for good. 

“is this what you really want?” jay had asked you right before you left. 

“its not what i want… but it doesn’t seem like what i want would be something that could ever happen if i stayed with you. 

you hurt me, jay. all i ever did was care for you and love you and it made me realize i hadn’t felt care or love from you for a while now. 

i truly hope that you get help for your drinking problem but i’m sorry i’m not going to be the one to fix it for you.” and with that you were gone. out of jay’s life and although you had said that you weren’t going to be the one to fix his drinking problem, in a lot of ways; you did fix it. 

he hadn’t drank since that night and vowed to himself that he wouldn’t drink ever again and 5 months after, he’s kept that promise. 

jay wished that he did keep his promise to you. 

when he finally asked you to be his girlfriend, he had promised to hold your heart close to his and to never break it. only to find himself distancing his heart from yours and eventually shattering it into millions of pieces when you got into a fight that night. 

but he was now forced to face all of this all over again as you stood in front of him, mirroring the same shocked face he had as the two of you run into each other at a mutual friends party. 

you hadn’t seen jay since that night and although your heart ached for him, you had to choose yourself. you couldn’t stand being with someone who saw you as overbearing when all you did was care for and love them. 

you truly had been worried about jay ever since his drinking habits had gone worse and maybe you could’ve gone about it a better way and not made him feel attacked for his actions but he didn’t have the same consideration for you so why should you do the same… right? 

“h-hi.. yn. you look good.” jay stutters. 

“you do too, um.. i–” you begin to say but he cuts you off. “look, i know we didn’t end on the right foot and these past five months have been hard for me so i could only imagine how hard they’ve been on you. 

i wasn’t right to treat you that way and i’m sorry i’m only realizing it now. i miss you so much and i spend countless nights thinking about you. reminiscing on the good times and how i let myself ruin all of it. 

i’m sorry, yn.” it all comes out like word vomit and quite frankly, you weren’t prepared to hear any of it. you also hadn’t expected him to have this much of grasp on your relationship five months after, but it was all too late. 

“i’m sorry too, jay– but i can’t keep doing this. i think you need to move on. i know i will…” you muttered.

“for what it’s worth… you did help me… i’m five months sober.” he confesses and you give him a tight lipped smile. 

“take care of yourself, ok?” you say before turning around to leave and although jay wished that he could’ve said all of this five months sooner in hopes that it would’ve fixed your relationship, he respects your wishes and just hopes that the next guy who comes around would love you the way you deserved to be loved. 

jaeyun ⋆˚ʚɞ

in the time you’ve dated jake or quite frankly, anyone, they had never raised their voice and spoke to you in that way. jake seemed so angry and upset that it scared you. you knew that jake would never hurt you but his words pierced your heart in ways that caused you pain you had never felt before, especially from someone you love and was supposed to love you.

it always hurts more when it comes from someone you love right? 

you had come home the next day and found jake sleeping on the couch, hugging the plushy that he often said looked like you. 

you’d be lying if you said that seeing him like this didn’t make your heart hurt… but it did. 

it seemed like jake had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for you but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

the feeling of being unwanted, unloved, undesirable, and not enough for someone who is supposed to love you. 

but if jake had loved you he wouldn’t have raised his voice at you.. let alone speak to you in that tone and used language that was meant to hurt someone. 

“yn? is that you?” he says, stretching on the couch and rubbing his eyes, causing you to snap out of it. you quickly wipe away the tears that had miraculously appeared. “um, yeah. i just came to grab some things. you can go back to sleeping..” you explained as you made your way to your shared bedroom. 

“baby? can we talk?” jake says, peering into the room as he sees you packing your things inside of duffel bag. “wait- what are you packing? are you leaving? baby, please don’t do this, can we talk this out?” he was now on his knees in front of you, clutching onto your sweater while he begged. 

“jake, get up.” you say, rolling your eyes at him. 

“its just for a few days, i need time to myself- i need to think, ok?” you said and even now, even when you’re still hurting because of him from the night before, you were here trying to comfort him. 

jake stands up with a sniffle and he attempts to link your hands together but you pull away to continue packing your bag. “when are we going to talk about this? i love you, i don’t want you to leave… please stay.” he continues to beg and although its working, you needed to stay strong. 

“if you loved me you wouldn’t have spoken to me like that. people who love each other don’t speak to people they love that way. 

jake, you hurt me… and i don’t know what i did to deserve that treatment but i just wanted help. i spent all day running errands despite feeling like shit because of my period and you dismissed my feelings like it was nothing. 

that blanket meant so much to me, you knew that it was from my late grandmother yet you tossed it aside for your own accord because you didn’t have the same care for me and the things i love the way i do for you.” you said with a huff as you stuffed the last of your things into the bag. 

“when will you come back?” was all jake asked and all you could muster up was a shrug, because you weren’t entirely sure when you would be back. 

needless to say, a few days turned into a few weeks, and a few weeks turned into a few months and at some point you found yourself not having the need to come back. 

you wished you could get the closure you wanted from jake and you were sure he also wanted that, but walking away was something you needed to do. even if it was just one instance where jake spoke to you that way, it was enough for you to leave because you weren’t going to allow yourself to be with someone who found it in themselves to speak that way to someone they supposedly loved. 

not then, not now, and not ever.

sunghoon ⋆˚ʚɞ

sunghoon hadn’t known what he was doing, it was like his body was moving before his brain could think because he was running back inside and grabbing his car keys to drive after you. 

he wasn’t sure where you were headed off to but he had guessed that you were most likely going to stay with your mom. you were always close with your mom and she often was the person you went to when you were having troubles if you didn’t go to sunghoon. 

sunghoon knew he fucked up and he shouldn’t have treated you that way let alone let some strangers treat you that way. he didn’t know what let him get to the point where he was allowing these men to speak about you, the girl that he loved, in a way that made you feel small. demeaning and degrading you in a way that he hadn’t realized and even if he did, he chose to look away instead of defend you all because he was filled with the greed of wanting this promotion. 

was it even worth it anymore if it meant losing you? 

sunghoon was speeding at this point and although you hadn’t left much before he had went to follow you, there was no one else in the streets as he sped through to catch up to you. 

in a short amount of time, he’s turning into the street that your mom lives on and sure enough, he sees you just about to walk up to the front door. he hapazardly parks the car on the side of the street and stumbles out of his car to get to you. 

“yn, please. wait, lets talk about this!” he says and you’re startled at sunghoon suddenly appearing and you wipe the tears from your face and blink a few times to make sure he was actually there. 

“hoon? what are you doing here?” you ask, stepping down the small stairway that led to your mom’s home. “i couldn’t just let you leave like that, we need to talk-

look i’m sorry for the way i treated you and even more sorry that i let them treat you that way. i love you so much and i couldn’t imagine the amount of hurt i caused you for making it seem like i was okay with letting them say those things about you all because i wanted that promotion so damn bad. 

i was selfish and greedy but those are the things that make me want you more. i don’t want you to leave and walk away from me because i am selfish and greedy and i want you all to myself. 

i’m sorry that i didn’t defend you and i made you feel small…” he says and at this point sunghoon is crying. his voice breaks with every other word and you truly hadn’t seen sunghoon in this much distress, ever. 

you didn’t know how to respond but the longer you looked into sunghoon’s bloodshot eyes, the more confused you became. 

you could tell sunghoon was sincere but you didn’t think this was something that could be fixed right then and there. your sensitivity was always something you struggled with and sunghoon knew that yet he brushed off your feelings like it was nothing. 

“you shouldn’t have driven out all this way… 

because although i appreciate your apology i don’t know that i’m in the right place to accept it or to forgive you. 

sunghoon you hurt me and you let others hurt me. 

i’m selfish too, i want you all to myself too and i wouldn’t have stayed so long if i didn’t love you and want to be with you… but-

i don’t know if i can be with someone that doesn’t see me in the way i deserve. 

and i certainly know i don’t deserve any of that.” both of your attention is drawn to the sound of the front door as it opens, revealing your mother in her nightwear and arms crossed; a displeased expression on her face. 

“i’ll reach out to you when i’m ready.” you say and without another word you’re retreating into your mom’s home, hiding away from sunghoon and preparing yourself to have to face the inevitable one day. 

sunghoon on the other hand, drags himself to his car, head hanging low as he has to come to terms that his own selfishness and greed for the one he loved was also what caused him to lose the love of his life. 

copyright 2025 - present © hoonieyun all rights reserved all writing here is fiction & not in any association with characters mentioned. if you enjoyed reading this please consider reblogging and following <3

[aokozaki]

He also hasn't apparently contested being found with a gun. People act like of course the cops planted a gun, why would a guy just be carrying a gun?

If Mr. Magnione is indeed the shooter, it's not hard to imagine "he couldn't think of a way to dispose of the gun" turning into "he kept it on his person" gelling with "if he was found he might have known he'd get arrested right away, so his manifesto thanks the feds for what they do and says he doesn't want to waste their time".

Or, maybe, anyway.

This is assuming a lot of hypotheticals. He is still only a suspect, innocent until proven guilty - and thankfully his family's well off so he's gotten a good lawyer.

The thing is though, people have turned ACAB into an excuse for assuming a massive conspiracy to arrest some guy on trumped up charges. Which like, wouldn't be shocking but that's also not proved either.

You ever notice how when the shooting first happened, and the shooter calmly shot the guy and then rode away on a bike and just fucking vanished, everyone's reaction was "what? that worked?"

But after a few days of myth-making, of seeing every little clue as proof that the unknown gunman was always one step ahead of the cops, when a man is arrested for pretty boring reasons, the reaction becomes "there's no way it's him, the shooter was too smart for this!"

Or maybe it's not that implausible, if Mr. Mangione does turn out to be the shooter (this is still just personal speculation here, it's not proven) that a man who's escape attempt was so slapdash as to provoke shock, also carried a manifesto that opens:

To the Feds, I'll keep this short, because I do respect what you do for our country. To save you a lengthy investigation, I state plainly that I wasn't working with anyone.

Was he expecting to be caught? That's just speculation and personal opinion. We don't know anything for sure yet.

It seems plausible he shot the guy, but objectively it's an understandable motive for murder, and also lmao? Terrorism charges?? Yeah they're not getting him with that even if he did do it.

But like, Jesus, drop the conspiracy theories. Saw some folks allege the manifesto must have been AI generated due to the somewhat surreal tone of opening up thanking the feds but like.

It's a handwritten note. That's very easy to google. The cops were fastidious enough in their frame-job to handwrite it, but hakcy enough to ask ChatGPT? What're you fucking talking about.

Honestly one of the main reasons to assume Luigi Mangione was framed by the NYPD is that the UHC shooter not only had no reason to carry around a manifesto, he had no reason to even write a manifesto. He said his piece loud and clear with the bullet casings and the monopoly money. Everyone understood it and the shooter knew that would be the case.

[midnite-c6]

Ok now do a trilogy to Thanos x Namgyus gf but make it a threesome 💔

okay 💓 was thinking of doing that in part 2 but i wanted to edge. LMAO.

previous : part 1 ! part 2 ! <3 thanos (choi su-bong) x namgyusgf!reader pt. 3 warnings: 18+, cheating, degradation, pwp, rough sex

ˆつ⁠｡⁠☆ with the back and forth of videos (of you getting fucked by them) being sent on both their phones, it turned into a competition of the two. to see who could make you feel better, but that was getting boring, the best solution is to just share! obviously.

nsfw below!! -> 🫶🏻

"you lying, cheating, slut." nam-gyu slips his cock from your pussy, before ramming it back in again, starting another rhythmic pace of his dick sliding in and out of you. your body was practically floating, having su-bong hold you up from the ground, with his hand tightly holding onto your hair. from this view, he could see you look up at him with cheeks stained with your mascara, how your makeup is ruined, and how you were taking him so well inside your mouth, just like the first time. "so fucking wet." nam-gyu would groan out, pointing out how easy it was to just slip in and out of you for hours. "damn it. one dick isn't enough for you, huh?" your eyes move from thanos' looking up at your boyfriend's. "your slutty dumb brain needs two cocks to fill her up so it's happy, am i correct?" he'd particularly thrust harder during the last sentence, you barely even heard what he said because you were too busy thinking of what he's doing to your cunt right now.

"she's just searchin' for the best." the one inside your mouth replied. you'd only choke against him as he forces himself deeper inside your throat. "fuck off." but nam-gyu couldn't lie, you were clenching him like crazy. he'd only let out a moan from that, spitting on your clit. that was the only sensation your clit had gotten, nam-gyu was ignoring it the whole night because you don't deserve to be pleased like that! now both your pussy and chin is dripping wet from their filthy juices and saliva.

su-bong would pull out of your mouth, giving it some kind of mercy, you can finally breathe the air around you, that was still a difficult task considering now every time nam-gyu pushes inside you, the head of his cock hits your g-spot so perfectly, you'd wonder if he's trying to impress you, that thanos was only second best compared to him, maybe that's why he was your boyfriend in the first place... thanos looks down at your pretty, fucked out face and laughs, "you're such a freak for liking this!" wow. he was one to talk. he then places his dick on your face, rubbing his leaking pre-cum to ruin your face even more. "damn .. even prettier like this, señorita." he just loves seeing your face covered in his sticky cum.. </3

"ma' bro, let me fuck her." nam-gyu stops his thrusts, though not bothering to look at su-bong. "urgh. no." thanos tilts his head to the side. "how about we fuck her both, at the same time?" "what. you're into anal?" "psh, what am i not into? but. both of us. inside her pretty cunt. you can take it, right?" he asks as he tugs on your hair, you were still only getting to calm down from all the thrusting.. "fuck no, dude! i don't want my dick touching yours!" clearly, nam-gyu wasn't high enough for this. "fuuck, man, don't think 'bout that shit, she'll scream ten times more. high risk, high reward. i've seen it in a porno." nam-gyu scoffs, "high risk, high reward my ass. don't care shit 'bout what you watch." nam-gyu was opposed to it.

but seeing you to become an absolute shaking, screaming mess? hell yea. now you're laid down on the rought cement floors of the office room inside club pentagon, your legs being spread wide open, nam-gyu's arm hooked to your left thigh as su-bong's to the right. nam-gyu was first to enter inside you, then you'd already start yelling how it was too much when su-bong starts to push himself in aswell, "su-bong! s-stop! stop!" nam-gyu would harshly slap your face. "no moanin' his name, only mine. got it?" you nodded, fuck was he strict. "yes, sir.." you'd whine out lazily. you were being stretched like crazy, you swear they'd rip you open right about now. thanos finally bottoms out inside you, your body was already shaking, even when they're not even moving. but oh you wished that they stayed that way. now you're moans were practically screams, for sure everyone inside the club, even with the loud music, could hear how much you were being fucked. they were both fast as fuck, not giving you any time to breathe at all, it was like a literal race. nam-gyu's veiny, ringed hands were wrapped around your neck, just to let you know he's in control. thankfully, su-bong would pay attention to your clit, with his thumb pressing hardly against the sensitive bud, maybe you could cum tonight.

that's how you'll spend the night, and many more nights, but right now they're determined to fill your womb with their cum mixed together, like true bestfriends.

phew guys i forgot to add plot this is all sex. damnn . gonna start becoming inactive again and WAY more slow with reqs 💔 i love journalism hahah.

[linddzz]

Sat here and combed through all your jayvik analysis posts giggling and kicking my feet but PLEASE tell me more about the whole dom/sub thing, especially the whole “they have absolutely not discussed that this is the dynamic, it just happens and neither of them acknowledge it” because that is genuinely so interesting. Like I could already tell Viktor had hella ‘quiet calm collected dom’ vibes especially compared to jayce’s ‘excited protective puppy who would FOLD at being called a good boy’ energy…

But the whole bit on the bridge where Viktor smacks his hand away without even looking? And Jayce EARNS BACK TOUCHING PRIVELEGES? Fucking scrumptious please tell me more.

god i need to get to writing my fic bc I feel like "talk more about it" would be solved just by me dropping the link This ended up being TOO LONG so I split it between me going feral about that bridge scene and then me going feral at other moments of nonverbal communication that I use to feed my Dom/sub "oh you two are just LIKE THAT" interpretation. So. here's part one

That bridge scene tho...im so normal about it

hhhggg god that bridge scene is one that I rotate in my brain so much because it is such a small moment that makes so much of their dynamic click. For me, specifically, it clicks the "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" dynamic, where Jayce is, on a surface level, the stronger and more forceful of the two while Viktor is the one actually holding the leash (until he's too tired to because he's dying, and I only half joke when I say that their issues at the end of season 1 are because Jayce is suddenly the equivalent of a dog holding it's own leash and getting stressed out about it.

Jayce's touching before the bridge come across as pretty overbearing honestly. He's holding his hand out to keep Viktor from speaking out...

Heck, while the still screenshot doesn't show it too well, Jayce slings an arm around Viktor with enough force that it knocks Viktor off balance for a second and shoves him forward a little.

Viktor got dragged to the hexgate when Jayce is looking into shipping discrepancies happening there, even though it obviously doesn't involve him and he does NOT want to be there.

(In hindsight this is a hilarious bit of showing that it did not occur to either of them that there's no goddamn reason for Viktor to be here. This is council business, Jayce outright says "I'm a councilor now Viktor" which does not answer why tf Viktor needs to be there. these twits just handle all problems as a unit lmao. The tragic flip is that this is could then be a breaking moment when Viktor goes back to the lab, realizing that him and Jayce are not, in actuality, a single unit anymore. because Jayce got a second job that is not Lab With Viktor oh my god you codependent dweebs)

Up until that point it would be really easy to see Jayce as being presumptive and unintentionally overpowering Viktor in personality. Heck, it's what I thought the dynamic was as I was watching Season 1, though even as I thought that it seemed somehow...not quite correct.

And then the bridge scene.

Even before the hand-smack, there's a flip on the reading up to this point that Jayce has been accidentally bowling over Viktor by force of personality/physicality. Jayce comes in hot, upset, angrily standing over Viktor and chewing him out, and Viktor is just like "....and??"

Viktor is calm if baffled and annoyed at Jayce's frustration (also; Viktor just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the actual riot happening a few yards away? hilarious. i love him.) His almost nonchalantly confused tone when he asks "what difference does that make?" always gets me. the entire back and forth says, to me anyway, that Jayce may be more brash and socially competent, but he's not overpowering Viktor at all, actually.

Viktor is going to do whatever the fuck Viktor wants.

This is immediately made clear by the much beloved hand smack. Viktor doesn't even look up, and his smack shows that he is perfectly capable of setting a hard boundary on Jayce's touching, and that Jayce will IMMEDIATELY fold and apologize when that boundary is set. That smack makes it suddenly clear that when Jayce goes for the shoulder touch right after apologizing, Viktor consciously allows it.

idk WHY but I also love this little tiniest moment when Jayce is going for the second touch. Viktor glances back as Jayce approaches him (looking like a cat with its ears pinned back lmao), then looks away as he accepts the second touch and they move on. It's such a tiny detail of showing Viktor, who is still pretty pissed at Jayce, seeing the touch as it comes in and then deciding to let it happen. im rotating them in my mind. please send help

In my framing of them being a guard dog/handler dynamic, the bridge scene is us seeing a moment of the leash getting a sudden sharp tug to bring the guard dog to heel. It resets all the earlier instances as being ones that Viktor allows to happen, because he doesn't see a need to correct it.

fuck man this doesn't even get into the bridge scene as a major crack between them as the moment Viktor loses his trust that Jayce will understand his decision. i am unwell

[arbitrarykiwi]

Captured in Low Resolution

Thanos/Choi Su-Bong (Player 230) x fem reader one-shot

Summary: while in your boyfriend’s music studio you finally remember to ask him about that teeny, tiny, low resolution photo that’s taped to the corner of his main computer screen. It’s been there for a while, edged curled up and ink faded to the point where you can’t even see what it is! (4k words)

Warnings: prolly ooc thanos…I just felt this in my soul and had to write it, Sfw, Just wanted to write somethin cute for this silly lil crazed man, proof read but am dyslexic so expect errors LMAO

You didn’t know it but one of Choi Su-bong’s favorite pictures of you was the one he has hung up on the corner of his computer at his studio.

It’s so small, grainy and faded due to the shitty printer he used to print it on. It’s also folded at the edge, rolling up into itself the smallest bit and blocking damn near most of the image.

As you sit on the edge of the computer desk, legs kicking aimlessly as he sits in the desk chair right next to you. He’s leaned back, one of his hands on the mouse as he clicks along the computer screen, eyes trained on the file of music he was working on. His other hand was resting on your thigh, right above the knee, fingers tapping against your flesh in concentration.

You look back over to the small image taped to the corner of his computer, fingers reaching out to try and un-curl the edge to see it better. It’s still such poor quality.

“What even is this picture?” You call out, fingers running over the paper. “Hm?” He says, very obviously not paying attention, his eyes moving from the computer screen over to you.

You pout playfully at him, “Can’t believe you’re ignoring me” you say, crossing your arms. He rolls his eyes and moves the chair he’s in over a couple inches. The wheels drag on the floor until he makes it to his destination, situated between your legs.

His arms reach up, crossing the desk and going behind you so his hands grip at your ass, pulling you to the very edge of his desk, your feet resting against his thighs. He looks up at you, hands massaging up your ass and around to your hips. “I’m payin’ attention now! Ask me again.” He whines turning to place a short kiss on the inside of your knee as an apology before pulling away.

You giggle, looking down and grabbing his face. You hunch over and tilt his face up, placing a slow kiss on his lips. When you pull away, you reach back over to the small image and pull at the corner. “I said what even is this picture. It’s so blurry. I can’t make it out.” You mumble, eyebrows furrowed as you squint to try and see what it was.

He looks to the little picture you’re fumbling with and then back to you, a confused look on his face. “You don’t know what it is!?” He says almost as if he’s offended. He removes one hand from your hip, pulling it back to quickly fish his phone out of pants pocket.

You watch as he unlocks it, blown out pupils darting across his phones home screen until he finds the app he’s looking for- photos.

He’s opening the app and begins to scroll through his camera roll. You can see glimpses of pictures- shoes he bought, pictures of weed, pictures of his shows, pictures of you and him, random memes he’s saved.

And then suddenly he stops, clicking on a certain photo in his camera roll then flipping his phone to you.

You immediately see the high definition colors match the pixels of the poor quality photo. It’s of you, in the drivers seat of his car. With the direction the photos taken, he’s in the passenger seat. The purple floor board lights that are in his car are the only lights that illuminate the photo- you can see it’s night outside the window behind you.

Your hair is in a messy style, you’re wearing a pair of his pajama pants and one of his shirts. Both articles of clothing practically swallowing you. One of your legs is hiked up on the car seat, shin pressed against the steering wheel. You have a takeout box of your favorite food in your lap, one hand holding up the food that your were most likely in the middle of eating, the other picking at the side dish that’s still in the box. You’re laughing in the picture, presumably at something he said.

You look at him, not really thinking this exact picture was worthy to be on the corner of his main computer as a permanent relic over the year. There’s plenty of better ones. But he cuts off your thoughts, “s’my favorite picture of you, baby.” He says with a wide grin pointing at the phone. “You look so cute and it reminds of that night and you always look so fuckin good when you’re driving my car.” He rambles passionately.

“Anytime I’m stressed out because these stupid fucks here don’t listen to me- I look at that picture, remember that night, and suddenly I’m not wanting to kill them.” He says pointing over to the small picture taped to his computer.

He was referring to the many people he had working with him on his music on a daily basis- his manager, his drug addict friends, different collabs he has- they all enrage him frequently, but with that picture of you there as his saving grace, he’s saved himself from losing deals and getting into fights. All he had to do is look at that little picture and he was taken back to that night- the anger he had towards whoever pissed him off in the studio would subside and he’d be able to finish whatever needed to be done in the studio without further problem.

You giggle, hands reaching out to grab his phone from his hand. Wanting a closer look at the picture, still not entirely sure when or even where it was taken. When your eyes scan the image, your smile widens- finally remembering the picture.

————/————/————

You guys had been dating around 6 months at the time, you think. You remember you had begged him to take you out late at night to get your favorite food to go. You were starving and you were set on the one thing that just had to have no delivery option. He had made you drive his car, saying that if he were to go with you and get you the food you wanted- you would have to drive.

You agreed excitedly, slipping on your shoes, grabbing his car keys that hung next to his front door and nearly bolting out of his apartment and skipping all the way to the parking space his car was in.

You didn’t know it but Choi Su-Bong thinks he realized that he was head over heels in love with you that night.

Yes he knew he adored you, loved you- hell he was never one for settling down until he met you a couple years ago- you changed him. But that night he swears he fell for you all over again in ways he didn’t think was possible.

You don’t hear it, you’re halfway to his nice sports car, but he chuckles to himself, just watching you. You’re simply adorable. Your excitement for your favorite food even this late at night made his tired smile grow wider. He was really smitten.

He’s entranced by the way you expertly throw the car into reverse, peeling out of the parking lot of his complex. You’re humming to yourself happily, doing the little dance you always do when you’re about to get food you like.

You’re so excited about the food you don’t even take the extra couple seconds to set up the Bluetooth like you normally do- you always wanted to have music in the care. It’s adorable, he thinks, just how determined you are to get your late night eats.

What’s even more adorable though is the way your eyes light up, a gasp coming out when he takes over aux, putting on that one song you play constantly. The one he swears you can listen to 16 times back to back and love it just as much as you did the first time it came on.

He just can’t stop staring at you, a small smile on his lips as he just watches how you drive, one arm outstretched so your hand is on the wheel the other arm is rested against the window on your side, your thumb playing with the nails of your other fingers- feeling the glitter and gems of the fresh set, tracing the raised chrome “T”- the extravagant set courtesy of your boyfriends money.

He watches as you hum along to the song, as it continues you begin to sing along, your voice blending with the stereo. He can’t but help chuckle to himself when he notices your hand drumming against the steering wheel, your head bobbing along to the music. It was 2am and here you were, as energetic as ever, singing your heart out.

He admires how you seem to recite the lyrics like they’re mixed into the blood that’s in your veins. It’s like you don’t even have to think about what word follows the previous, it just comes to you like you’re the person who wrote the song.

You can feel his gaze on you and your singing is halted by a laugh bubbling up your chest when you can see him out of the corner of your eyes just watching you- your eyes darting over to him in the passenger seat, eyebrows scrunched in a questioning look before looking back at the road. “Why ya staring at me?” You say with a giggle, eyes going back to the road.

“Hm..” he hums in response, reaching over the center console to interlock his hand with yours, your arm that was once on the window moves to replace the other so you can hold his hand, your other hand takes the wheel. “I can’t just admire my girlfriend?” He finishes, giving your hand a squeeze. He even adores the way your eyes roll at his words, letting out a sarcastic “I ‘spose you can.”

He lets out a low hum in response, his thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand. He doesn’t stop looking at you for the whole ride, taking in every detail of you.

You expertly maneuver his car along the expressway as you head to your destination with a determination, and throughout the whole drive he just finds more and more things that he finds endearing about you. He was going to have to make you drive him places more often if it meant he got to observe you like this.

You make it to the drive-thru, pulling around the curve and waiting patiently at the large light up menu. He begins to type on his phone, writing out his order so you could easily read it out when you got done ordering what you wanted.

You list off your order and he begins to hand you his phone, open to his order he just wrote out, but you don’t even turn to him- instead you list off his exact order perfectly without even having to grab his phone.

He sits back with a surprised laugh, you really did know him. It was charming how much you knew about him- even the little things like his order at this fast food place that you two have only gone to maybe 3 times.

You had to be a fucking witch, He thought, you had some sort of spell over him that made him fall for you effortlessly at any little thing you did.

You let out a sweet “Thank you!” To the worker as they tell you to pull up, turning to begin to pull up. You turn to him, doing a small excited dance and extending your hand out to him.

He grabs your outstretched hand, taking it in his and turning it to place a kiss on your knuckles as he grabs his wallet out of his pocket. When he pulls back, he rotates your hand back and places his card in your hand.

You give the card to the worker, paying. You get the card and receipt back, the worker closing the window and headed back to the kitchen. When you hand him back his card you lean over the center console and place a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, my love.” You say in a sweet tone that has him thinking he’s tripping- and he knows he didn’t take any pills today.

My love.

He’s replaying it in his head, trying to get the words and the way you said it permanently etched into his head. He’s not sure he’s ever been able to experience something so wholesome and exciting than when he met you. And every day he was continually surprised that you could still have such an effect on him with the little things you did.

“Of course, my beautiful flower.” He coos, hand reaching across the center console to stroke his thumb across your cheek a couple times. Your attention is pulled away from him by the bags of food being held out to you.

You take them happily handing them over to him for safe keeping as you pull around to the empty parking lot.

As you guys sit in the empty parking lot, eating the food- you told him you wanted to eat it then and there, not wait for the drive home- and who was he to say no to his sweet girl!?!- one of his own songs comes on the play list, his own voice coming through the speakers and filling the car.

“Oooohh!” You say excitedly, “that’s my mannn~!!” You call out in a sing song voice. He laughs, leaning over to place a quick kiss on your neck. When he does he can smell your perfume, it’s a scent he’s become addicted to. He lets out a low hum against your neck as he stays connected to you, sucking a small purple bruise into your skin. You bite your lip and giggle, reaching one hand up to run through his hair.

He pulls back from you, settling back into the passenger seat. He continues to eat, humming along to his own song. He swears his heart beats out of his chest when he’s about to take a bite out of his food and you begin rapping along.

It’s soft mumbles, just to yourself as you nod your head along to his music. You recite the lyrics perfectly. Sure, he knew you were subjected to listen to his music when you sat in his studio as he worked- but to know the lyrics like the back of your hand like this…he’s head over heels.

He watches on for a moment, just letting you be in your own world, not faltering once as you rap along to the recording of his voice. “How’d you learn this?” He questions with a laugh of disbelief, fuck, you’re so precious.

You look over to him, shocked he was even paying attention- you thought he was invested in the food that sits in the take out box on his lip like you were. “I listen to it all the time, duh! It’s on my liked playlist for when I drive.” You say confused, like you were surprised he was surprised.

His head is spinning to say the least. Maybe it was because he used to run around the worst type of people possible, always using him and not actually supporting his music. Or maybe it was because the ditzy flings he had before meeting you never cared to really listen to his music, only wanting drugs or sex. He wasn’t sure but he thought he was dreaming.

Choi Su-bong fell head over heels in love with you that night. He realized you were truly a precious little gift all for him. A pretty thing to show off and to keep him in line. Someone who loved him, and his music enough to learn all the lyrics and add it to your personal playlist. The way you were in the drivers seat of his car, wearing his clothes, singing his song has him launching over the seat to kiss you.

You nearly drop your food- clutching it to your lap as you kiss him back. It’s sweet, slow, and methodical. You can’t help but to melt into it. His lips move against you in practiced movements, his teeth gently bitting at your bottom lip- pulling it just a bit as he pulls away.

He moves back into the passenger seat and begins to go back to eating like nothing happened. You try and mirror him, trying to be stoic as you pick through your take out box.

He hears you giggling to yourself, and when he looks over and sees the sight- you trying your best to focus on your food, smile spread on your lips that were still wet from the kiss- he takes his phone out and takes a picture.

————/————/————

Back in the studio, you look back up to him, a wide smile on your face as you finally remember the night the picture was taken. “Awh!!! You’re such a softie…” you coo out reaching out to pull his face towards you, placing kiss after kiss along his face. When you pull back he scoffing, shaking his head dismissively, trying to act like you don’t affect him the way you do.

But you do.

“Not a softie..” he mumbles as he pouts. You look to the photo again, then back to him raising an accusatory eyebrow. He rolls his eyes at your persistence, “Fine…maybe you have me a bit soft…but you can’t blame me baby! You’re so fuckin perfect…” he says his hands running up the sides of your waist as he focuses on you. You jump off the desk, moving to climb into his lap on his desk chair.

He hums in approval when you sit down on his lap. He studies you, observing you like you’re an ancient marble carving on display in a museum. “My pretty baby.” He mutters, reaching up his hands to run them up the sides of your neck and to hold your face. “Mhm, your pretty baby.” You respond leaning in to kiss him. “All yours.” You mumble against his lips. He nods, biting at your lip. As he keeps the kiss going, he takes the small photo that you still held and tapes it back to the corner of the computer- where it belongs.

————/————/————

When he decides he’s done working in the studio for the day You stay the night at his place. Your mind buzzing with a perfect idea to surprise. You anxiously await to get started with your little project for when he goes to bed- you wouldn’t want to spoil it!

Hours later, he’s asleep on your bare chest, purple hair ticking your neck. One of his arms is thrown across you, pulling you tightly in his grasp. For someone who’s so intimidating and outgoing, when he’s asleep with you-he’s so soft, vulnerable. It’s a drastic change that only happens around you- and it’s one that you cherish every moment of.

Anytime you adjust yourself in bed, his arm around your torso holds you tighter like you’re going to run away. You never do though, you always stay with him. You try your best, and eventually manage to pull your phone off the bedside table, clicking it on to begin your plan.

The bright light of your phone floods the dark bedroom. He murmurs in his sleep, beginning to stir, his painted nails raking lightly at your rib cage when he moves. You quickly dim the brightness of your phone- a tricky task with one hand but you get it done. Your other hand runs along his arm and back in feather-light touches. It seems to settle him back into deeper sleep, his face rubbing against your chest, like he’s trying to get closer to you in any way possible and his hand relaxing once again.

With him back asleep, you continue your plan. You’re ordering the biggest print you can of the photo he loves so much, in the best quality, with the nicest wood frame you can find.

It takes a couple weeks to get everything and put it together. But soon you finish it and strategize on how you’re going to present it to him.

One day you found yourself in his studio. He’s at his desk, the small picture of you still taped to his computer. He’s working on some new music, his face focused as he sits at his desk, his mouth moving as he whispers lyrics to himself, trying to come up with something for this new song.

He eventually turns to you, offering to go out and get you food. And how could you say no? It gave you the perfect opportunity to see your plan into its final stages.

When he leaves the studio to go pick up food for the two of you, you get to work. You hang the picture up right above his monitor. It’s a tough job for one person, the large frame almost too big for you to hang up. But you struggle through- needing to see the end goal- his reaction.

You take a step back, looking on at the new addition with a proud smile.

Oh! Last thing!

You walk back over to his desk, leaning over it and removing the taped picture that was on the corner of his monitor, keeping it tucked into your palm. You smile to yourself, returning back over to your spot on the couch.

When he returns a while later, plastic bags of food for you. His eyes don’t even notice the new addition to his studio, he just looks straight to you on the couch He walks over to you, placing a kiss on your forehead then handing you the food.

“You go ahead and eat, baby. I really gotta finish this up.” He says, his eyes going back to his phone, an annoyed expression on his face. His phone rings out notification after notification, blowing up with messages that are surely rushing him to get the first draft of his lyrics submitted. His words are terse, almost harsh, but you know it’s not directed at you- it’s directed at the individuals hounding him on his phone.

He walks back over to his desk, he throws his phone down on the wood, eyes immediately diverting to his computer, ready to get back to work. Not even looking up to the wall.

He’s annoyed, he just wanted a nice calm day with his girlfriend but all these people bothering him about his music and raps just make him so fucking annoyed. When he feels himself getting more and more aggravated, his eyes immediately look to the corner of his computer monitor, trying to find solace in looking at the little paper picture he had taped to the screen, only to realize the small crumpled picture of you that he had taped there is gone.

He looks over his shoulder back to you, his eyebrows furrowed and a pout on his face. “You take my picture of you down?” He asks, you can hear the upset in his voice, it almost makes you break and spoil the whole surprise you set up.

You nod in response, biting your lip to try and keep your excited smile at bay. You open your palm, showing him that you had the small image. “What?!” He exclaims, turning fully back to you, his back now facing the wall you desperately needed him to look at. “Why would you do that?!” He says, looking at you worried, the frown on his face deepening.

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, walking over to him and spinning him around to face the wall. Your finger pointed up at the once empty space above his computer monitor.

When he finally looks at the wall, his mouth drops open. When he looks up he expects to see the same old bare white bricks, but he doesn’t, he’s completely wrong. How could he have completely missed that?!

There’s a large framed copy of his supposed favorite picture of you, right above his main computer monitor. Much better than the small, grainy paper image he had taped to the computer.

You’re about to ask if he likes it when he cuts you off, scooping you up into his arms and spinning you around. “You’re literally the fucking best!” He cheers excitedly. He puts you down and you’re smiling like an idiot. “You like it?” You ask, looking up at him, your arms interlocked behind his neck. “Baby…” he says, leaning down and holding your face to place a long, overly exaggerated kiss you your lips, pulling back with a ‘muah!’, “this is the best gift ever.”

His thumbs stroke your cheek gently, he’s staring at you with an adoring gaze that makes you melt. “You needed somethin’ a little better than this small lil thing. It was gonna fade…even more than it has.” You say holding your palm face up in between the two of you. “So I wanted to get you something that wouldn’t fade and have it to where you can actually see what it is.” You say poking at his chest with a joking, scolding tone.

He nods, laughing, placing a kiss on your forehead before removing his hands from your face and grabbing the old image. His thumb runs across the image, a soft smile on his face. He then looks up to the wall where the new picture hangs, taking a couple steps towards the desk.

“Fuck you’re stunning, sweetheart.” He breathes out, studying the framed photo of you, it’s a constant reminder of how lucky he is. “This is just what I needed, thank you..” He says, just studying the picture with a love-struck look. He truly has won the jackpot with you.

[blondemrk]

hellooo could i request a 7dream reaction fic? how they would react if their partner was getting hit on - but before they can do anything, y/n's already fighting back at the creep LMAO

°˖ reaction to their partner being hit on ១

p nctdream × fem!reader w.c 4.6k t.w suggestive.

mark

mark had been keeping an eye on you from the start of the night. it wasn’t that he didn’t trust you—he did completely—but he knew how people could get, especially in a crowded place like this. while chatting with the others, he made sure to glance in your direction every now and then, his protective instincts always on alert.

it was during one of those quick glances that he noticed the guy approach you. leaning casually against the bar, the stranger’s smirk was all too familiar—the type of confidence that reeked of entitlement. mark’s grip tightened on his drink as he watched the interaction unfold.

"you are so gorgeous," the guy began, his tone dripping with rehearsed charm. "how about i buy you a drink?"

mark’s body stiffened. he sat forward, ready to intervene, but before he could even get up, he heard your voice cut through the air.

"wow, how original," you said dryly, not bothering to mask your sarcasm. "no thanks—i’m fine without the drink, and without you."

mark couldn’t help but smirk a little at your boldness. still, he stayed on high alert, watching the guy’s reaction.

the man chuckled nervously, trying to play it cool. "don’t be like that. i’m just trying to be nice."

you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms in front of you. "if you were being nice, you’d take the hint and walk away. but since you’re still here, let me make it even clearer: i’m not interested. go bother someone else who has the patience to deal with your nonsense."

mark stood up, his jaw tightening as he made his way toward you. the guy still hadn’t moved, clearly not taking your words seriously. by the time mark reached you, the tension was palpable. he stepped in without hesitation, placing a protective hand on your waist.

"she said she’s not interested," mark said firmly, his tone calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "i think it’s time for you to leave."

the guy’s eyes flicked to mark, and for a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. but one glance at mark’s unflinching expression and his broad frame was enough to change his mind. muttering something under his breath, the man finally turned and disappeared into the crowd.

mark’s gaze followed him until he was out of sight before he turned his attention back to you. his hand stayed on your waist as his eyes softened, his concern now fully focused on you. "are you okay?" he asked, his voice low but gentle.

you smirked, brushing it off like it was nothing. "he was annoying. i wasn’t going to let him ruin my night."

mark let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he cupped your cheek with his free hand. his thumb brushed against your skin, his admiration for you clear in his eyes. "you handed that so well. i still don’t want anyone bothering my girl again tonight," he murmured, his voice dropping to a tender tone. "how about you stick with me for the rest of the night, hm?"

you smiled, leaning into his touch as the tension from the encounter melted away. "sounds like a good plan to me," you said softly, your confidence still shining through.

mark smiles, leaving a kiss on your forehead. "lets go. i'll buy you a drink instead beautiful"

renjun

renjun is the observant type, and tonight is no exception. while the others are engrossed in their conversations, he’s casually scanning the room, his sharp eyes picking up on the subtle shifts in the crowd. that’s when he notices him—the guy standing a little too close to you at the bar. renjun’s easy smile falters as he watches the man lean in, his body language screaming overconfidence.

"you look like someone who appreciates good company," the guy says, his tone dripping with smugness.

renjun sets down his drink, the tightening of his jaw the only indication of his irritation. he’s already preparing to intervene, his mind running through possible ways to defuse the situation, but then he hears your response—sharp and cutting, with no room for misunderstanding.

"good company?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "is that what you think you are? because all i see is someone who doesn’t know how to read the room."

the guy laughs nervously, clearly not expecting such a blunt rejection. he tries to play it cool, his smirk faltering but still present. "wow, okay. feisty. i like that."

you let out a dry laugh, your expression turning colder. "you liking something about me doesn’t mean i owe you my time. so why don’t you take that ‘good company’ somewhere else before you embarrass yourself further?"

renjun can’t hide the smirk that tugs at his lips as he watches the guy flounder. by now, renjun has made his way to your side, standing just behind the man with his arms crossed. the subtle shift in your expression when you notice him doesn’t go unnoticed by renjun, and he takes that as his cue to step in.

"is there a problem here?" renjun asks, his voice calm but carrying a quiet authority that instantly shifts the energy. the guy freezes, caught off guard by renjun’s sudden presence.

the creep mutters something unintelligible—an excuse, an apology, maybe both—before hastily backing off and disappearing into the crowd. renjun’s gaze lingers on him for a moment, ensuring he’s truly gone before he turns his attention back to you.

"you know," renjun begins, his tone light but tinged with amusement, "i was ready to step in, but you didn’t even give me a chance."

you shrug, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you pick up your drink. "he was annoying. i just wanted him gone. no need to waste time entertaining nonsense."

renjun chuckles softly, his eyes glinting with admiration. he places his hands on your waist, rubbing his thumb in circles on your skin. "remind me to never get on your bad side, y/n. you’re scary when you want to be."

you roll your eyes playfully, leaning back against the bar. "you? getting on my bad side? that would require you to actually be annoying, renjun. and you’re… well, tolerable."

renjun lets out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically. "tolerable? i’ll take that as a compliment"

you laugh, the tension from the earlier interaction melting away as you fall into an easy rhythm with renjun. but while his expression is light, his actions are more telling. for the rest of the night, he stays close to you—not hovering, but always within reach.

every now and then, he throws a teasing comment your way, something to make you laugh and forget the earlier encounter. but he also keeps a sharp eye on your surroundings, his observant nature ensuring that no one else gets the bright idea to approach you uninvited.

at one point, when someone brushes past you a little too closely, renjun instinctively steps forward, his hand lightly grazing your back as he murmurs, "you okay?"

you nod, offering him a reassuring smile. "yeah im okay dont worry.."

he smirks, leaning just close enough for you to hear over the music. "i know. but it doesn’t hurt to me here does it?"

he smiles, pulling you towards him. "cant have anyone taking you away from me now can i?"

jeno

jeno notices the creep the moment they approach you. he’s been keeping an eye on you all night, watching from a short distance to make sure you’re comfortable and enjoying yourself. but the way this guy slides into your space, leaning in like he owns the world, sets off every protective instinct in jeno’s body.

the man’s body language screams entitlement, his smirk almost as irritating as his words. "come on, don’t play hard to get. you know you’re enjoying this," the guy says, his tone dripping with arrogance.

jeno’s fists clench at his sides, his jaw tightening as he begins to move toward you, but before he can reach you, he hears your sharp, unwavering voice cut through the noise.

"enjoying this? oh, absolutely," you say, spinning around to face the guy. your tone is laced with sarcasm, your expression unflinching. "who wouldn’t enjoy being harassed by someone who clearly can’t take a hint?"

the guy blinks, clearly caught off guard by your boldness. his confidence wavers for a moment before he tries to recover, plastering on a smug grin. "you don’t have to be so mean, sweetheart. i’m just saying you’re beautiful. no need to get so worked up."

your eyes narrow, the irritation in your gaze enough to make jeno pause in admiration. he loves seeing you stand your ground, but his protective instincts are still on overdrive. he continues toward you, his strides purposeful, but you’re not finished yet.

taking a deliberate step closer to the guy, you tilt your head slightly, your tone colder now. "and i’m just saying that your ‘compliments’ are unwelcome. so why don’t you do yourself a favor and walk away before i call someone to escort you out? or do you want everyone here to see just how pathetic you are?"

the guy’s smirk falters completely, his bravado slipping under your unwavering glare. he stammers, clearly unsure of how to respond. that’s when jeno finally steps in, his presence looming as he positions himself between you and the guy.

placing a firm hand on the guy’s back, jeno grabs a fistful of the man’s shirt, yanking him a step back from you. his voice is calm, but there’s no mistaking the steel in his tone. "you heard my girlfriend. leave. now."

the guy mutters something under his breath—an attempt at saving face—but jeno doesn’t care enough to listen. he gives him a little push toward the crowd, watching as the creep quickly disappears into the sea of people, his arrogance now replaced by embarrassment.

turning back to you, jeno’s expression softens immediately. his shoulders relax as he takes in the way you’re still standing tall, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. he lets out a low chuckle, the tension in his body easing now that the guy is gone. "hey, baby," he murmurs, stepping closer to you. "you okay?"

you smile, brushing a strand of hair out of your face as you meet his gaze. "of course. i wasn’t going to let him get away with that."

jeno grins, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you into his arms. he holds you tightly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head before leaning back just enough to meet your eyes. "you’re incredible, you know that? but next time, let me handle it, okay? i don’t want you stressing over anything. that’s my job."

you roll your eyes playfully, but your smile is warm as you rest your hands on his chest. "i wasn’t stressing. i’ve dealt with worse. but i’ll admit, watching you swoop in like that was kind of hot."

jeno laughs, the sound low and warm as he leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours. "oh, so you liked the whole knight-in-shining-armor thing? good to know. i’ll make sure to keep that energy up."

you laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck. "just don’t make a habit of fighting people for me. i can handle myself."

jeno nods, his grin softening into something more genuine. "i know you can. that’s one of the things i love about you. but still… i’ll always have your back, no matter what."

the rest of the night, jeno stays close, his protective streak on full display. whether it’s his hand resting on your lower back or his occasional glances around the room, it’s clear he’s not letting anyone else get the chance to bother you. but he also keeps the mood light, teasing you about your sharp comebacks and making you laugh with his playful antics.

and every time you catch him looking at you, his gaze is filled with pride and admiration, as though he’s constantly reminded of just how incredible you are.

haechan

haechan doesn’t need much time to notice the creep bothering you. his sharp ears pick up on the guy’s overly confident tone from across the room, and he immediately shifts his focus to you. without hesitation, he starts making his way over, his trademark smirk already in place and his sharp wit at the ready.

"you’ve got such an attitude, but i kind of like it," the guy says, his smirk radiating arrogance as he inches closer.

but before haechan can say anything, you’re already taking control of the situation. you cross your arms, your expression unamused, your words cutting like a knife. "an attitude? oh, you mean standards? yeah, i have those. clearly, you don’t meet them."

the guy’s smirk falters, his overconfidence wavering for a split second. he tries to recover, forcing a nervous laugh as he leans back slightly. "come on, i’m just joking around. don’t take it so seriously."

you tilt your head, your voice dripping with sarcasm as you respond. "oh, i’m sorry. was i supposed to laugh? next time, try saying something funny."

the guy’s face twists in frustration, clearly not expecting you to shut him down so effortlessly. by now, haechan is standing behind you, silently observing with an amused grin. he takes his time stepping into the conversation, waiting for just the right moment to make his presence known.

throwing an arm around your shoulders with practiced ease, haechan leans in slightly, his tone playful yet undeniably assertive. "my girlfriend is funny, isn’t she? honestly, you should’ve just taken notes and walked away before embarrassing yourself."

the guy glares at haechan, muttering something under his breath before finally turning on his heel and disappearing into the crowd, thoroughly defeated.

haechan watches him leave, his grin widening as he turns back to you. his eyes sparkle with amusement, his pride in you clear. "that was hilarious," he says, rubbing your shoulders lightly. "you didn’t even give him a chance to breathe."

you shrug, a small smile tugging at your lips. "he deserved it. the second he opened his mouth, i knew he wasn’t worth wasting any energy on."

haechan lets out a loud laugh, his hands slipping down to your sides as he rubs them in soothing circles. "next time, though," he teases, his tone shifting to something a little more serious, "let me handle it, okay? i don’t even want you to look at another man, much less waste your energy shutting him down."

you raise an eyebrow, giving him a playful nudge. "you think i need you to fight my battles for me?"

he shakes his head, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. his voice drops, his tone softer now. "nah, i know you’ve got it handled. but it’s my job to protect you, even if it’s just from some loser who doesn’t know how to mind his business."

you grin, wrapping your arms around his neck. "fine. next time, i’ll let you take the lead. but don’t expect me to hold back if he says something stupid."

haechan chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. "deal. you can handle the insults; i’ll handle making sure they never come back."

for the rest of the night, haechan sticks close to you, his arm either wrapped around your waist or slung over your shoulders. every now and then, he throws in a joke about the creep, making you laugh and keeping the mood light. but underneath it all, his protective streak is evident in the way his eyes occasionally scan the room, ensuring that no one else dares to approach you.

as the two of you head back to your group, haechan leans in close, his voice low in your ear. "god you look so good tonight"

you roll your eyes but can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

haechans arm tightens around you as he pulls you closer. "i dont need anyone else trying to chat you up tonight. stay with me."

jaemin

jaemin isn’t one to lose his temper easily. he’s the type to approach situations with a calm and calculated demeanor, but when it comes to you, there are no limits to what he’ll do to protect you. that’s why, when he notices a guy getting too close to you and hears the arrogance in his tone, a dark cloud settles over his usually sunny expression.

"come on, sweeheart," the creep says, leaning into your space with an infuriating smirk. "you’ve been giving me looks all night. don’t pretend you’re not interested."

you step back, your arms crossing as you glare at him. "looks? the only look i’ve been giving you is the one that says, ‘leave me alone.’ do you not know how to read a room?"

the guy chuckles, brushing off your words as if they’re meaningless. "don’t be like that. you don’t have to play hard to get. i’m just trying to have a good time."

jaemin, who has been quietly observing from a few feet away, clenches his fists at the audacity of the creep. he strides over, his face cold and unyielding. by the time he reaches you, the guy still hasn’t gotten the hint.

"dude" jaemin says, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. "she told you to back off. you should listen."

the guy turns to jaemin, sizing him up with an amused smirk. "and who are you? her babysitter?"

you open your mouth to reply, but jaemin holds up a hand, silencing you gently as his focus sharpens on the guy. "i’m the person who’s about to break your fucking jaw if you don’t walk away right now."

instead of taking the warning, the creep decides to push his luck. "oh, relax. i wasn’t doing anything wrong. can’t blame a guy for trying. i mean look at her, shes asking for it."

that’s the last straw. in a flash, jaemin’s fist connects with the guy’s jaw, the force enough to send him stumbling backward into the nearby bar counter. gasps erupt from the crowd around you, and the guy groans, clutching his face as he glares at jaemin.

"are you insane?!" the guy sputters, his confidence now replaced with fear and anger.

jaemin steps closer, his expression icy as he towers over the guy. "if i see you near her again, it won’t just be your jaw hurting. now get lost."

the guy doesn’t wait for further instructions. he scrambles to his feet and disappears into the crowd, clearly eager to get away from jaemin.

turning back to you, jaemin’s expression softens immediately. he takes a step closer, reaching out to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "you okay, princess?" he asks, his voice warm and full of concern.

you nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the chaos. "yeah, i’m fine. you didn’t have to do that, you know."

jaemin sighs, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on top of your head. "i know you can handle yourself, but i’m not going to stand by and let someone disrespect you. you’re too important to me."

you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning into his comforting embrace. "well, remind me to never get on your bad side. that punch was impressive."

jaemin chuckles, his breath warm against your hair. "only for you, baby. but next time, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. i’d rather keep my hands on you than waste them on creeps like him."

for the rest of the night, jaemin stays glued to your side, his protective instincts on high alert. every now and then, he glances around the room, his sharp eyes ensuring that no one else dares to bother you. but when he looks at you, his gaze softens, filled with the kind of love and devotion that makes you feel completely safe and cherished.

chenle

chenle isn’t the jealous type—or at least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. but when he sees some guy leaning in way too close to you, his smirk too smug and his intentions clear, something in him shifts. from across the room, he watches, his jaw tightening as the guy’s overconfident voice carries just enough for chenle to catch snippets.

"you’re way too beautiful to be standing here alone. how about i keep you company?"

you’re already rolling your eyes, visibly annoyed but keeping your cool. "i’m not alone, actually. my boyfriend’s here."

the guy doesn’t back off. instead, he lets out a mocking laugh, shrugging off your words. "boyfriend? i don’t see him. come on, you don’t have to make excuses. let me take care of you tonight."

chenle sets his drink down with a controlled precision, his eyes narrowing. he doesn’t do big scenes, but the guy’s blatant disrespect ignites something protective and possessive in him. without wasting another second, he strides across the room, his focus solely on you.

when he reaches you, he doesn’t acknowledge the guy. not a glance, not a word—nothing. his full attention is on you as he steps into your space, his fingers wrapping gently around your wrist.

"chenle—" you start, confused, but before you can get another word out, he tilts your chin up and kisses you.

and not just a quick kiss. this is something else entirely. his hand cups the side of your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek as his lips claim yours with undeniable intensity. it’s a kiss that demands attention—a declaration to the entire room, but especially to the creep standing awkwardly to the side. his other hand slides to your waist, holding you firmly against him, and you feel the tension in his grip, the silent message in his touch.

the kiss leaves you breathless, your hands instinctively clutching at his shirt as you try to ground yourself. chenle’s lips move with deliberate, unhurried precision, and even though the guy is still hovering nearby, all you can focus on is him—his warmth, his confidence, his unyielding presence.

the creep clears his throat awkwardly, his bravado crumbling under the weight of chenle’s unspoken challenge. "uh… okay, i get it. geez." he mutters something under his breath and shuffles off, but chenle doesn’t stop.

only when he’s sure the guy is completely out of sight does chenle finally pull back, his eyes dark and smoldering as they meet yours. his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, a faint smirk tugging at his own. "that should make it clear to everyone."

you blink at him, still catching your breath, your cheeks flushed. "were you—were you jealous?" you manage, though your voice is still a little shaky from the kiss.

chenle raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening as he pretends to scoff. "me? jealous? please." he leans in closer, his lips ghosting over yours. "i just wanted to make sure that guy—and everyone else—knows who you belong to. that’s all."

you let out a laugh, shaking your head at his audacity. "you’re unbelievable, you know that?"

"i know," he replies smoothly, stealing another quick kiss. "and you love me for it."

you roll your eyes, but the warmth in your smile betrays you. "maybe i do."

for the rest of the night, chenle stays glued to your side, his arm either slung casually over your shoulders or his hand holding yours. he’s not one to hover, but tonight, his protective side is in full force. every now and then, he leans in to kiss you again—not because he’s jealous anymore, but because he simply can’t resist.

and every time he does, it’s like the rest of the world disappears, leaving just the two of you in your own little bubble.

jisung

jisung isn’t the type to make a scene. he’s quiet and reserved most of the time, but when it comes to you, he’s fiercely protective. that’s why, when he notices the guy at the bar getting way too close to you, his hands gesturing as if he has any right to invade your space, jisung feels his blood start to boil.

the guy leans in, smirking like he owns the world. "you’re way too pretty to be sitting here alone. why don’t i keep you company?"

you shift back slightly, your irritation clear. "i’m not alone. my boyfriend’s here."

the creep doesn’t back off, laughing as if you’ve just told a joke. "oh, yeah? i don’t see him. sounds like you’re just saying that to get rid of me."

jisung watches from the other side of the room, his jaw tightening as he sets his drink down. he’s not one for confrontation, but seeing the guy blatantly disrespect you pushes him over the edge. he strides over, his tall frame imposing as he steps in between you and the creep.

"she’s not alone," jisung says, his voice low and firm, carrying an intensity that even surprises you. "i’m her boyfriend, and i think you need to walk away before this gets worse for you."

the guy looks jisung up and down, clearly assessing whether it’s worth pushing further. after a tense moment, he throws up his hands in mock surrender. "alright, alright. chill, man. i was just talking."

the guy slinks off into the crowd, and jisung exhales sharply, turning to you. his dark eyes meet yours, and there’s a fire in them that you don’t see often. "let’s go," he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.

you blink, slightly startled by his tone but also intrigued by the edge in his demeanor. "go? but—"

"now, y/n," he interrupts, grabbing your hand and leading you out of the bar without waiting for further protest.

the car ride is silent at first, tension crackling in the air. jisung’s knuckles are tight around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched as he focuses on the road. you steal a glance at him, the way his sharp profile looks under the glow of the streetlights, and it sends a thrill through you.

"you’re mad," you say softly, breaking the silence.

he scoffs, his eyes flicking to you briefly before returning to the road. "of course i’m mad. that guy wouldn’t leave you alone. he didn’t respect you—or us. i should’ve—" he cuts himself off, shaking his head as if trying to calm down.

you reach out, placing a hand on his thigh, your touch grounding him. "you don’t have to explain. i get it. and honestly? seeing you like this is… kind of hot."

his eyes widen for a second, the tension in his shoulders shifting into something else entirely. he pulls into an empty parking lot, shutting off the car and turning to face you. his gaze is dark now, the fire from earlier still burning but in a completely different way.

"you think this is hot?" he asks, his voice low, almost a growl.

you bite your lip, leaning closer. "i think you being so protective is incredibly hot."

that’s all it takes for him to snap. he surges forward, his lips crashing into yours with a hunger that leaves you breathless. his hand tangles in your hair as he pulls you closer, the other gripping your waist as if he can’t bear to let you go.

the confined space of the car only adds to the intensity, your bodies pressed together as the windows begin to fog. his kisses trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin just enough to make you gasp.

"you’re mine," he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough and full of conviction. "no one else gets to look at you like that, talk to you like that."

"i’m yours," you whisper back, your fingers threading through his hair as you pull him even closer. "only yours."

the night might have started with frustration, but it’s clear that jisung is determined to make you forget every second of it, right there in the car with nothing but the two of you and the heated passion that takes over.

masterlist

hey guys!! sorry for not updating in a while.. i was out of the country!

also im making a permanent tag list so lmk if u wanna be on it!

[pretty-little-mind33]

I just wanted to ask if you could make headcanons about being in a relationship with Pietro (I don't remember if I already asked for that, and I'm sorry if I did, I'm not rushing you 😭😭), and another one with Sergai? It doesn't matter if it takes a while, I totally understand, and thank you for all your fics, I love them 💖💖💖

~ i hope you like this, darling 🫶 been on a tiny bit of a writers block so this headcanon list was a good thing to write! ~

• with Pietro, friends to lovers is the only way!

• he has trouble with his feelings. he has trouble understanding them because he becomes overwhelmed and so in the beginning, it's difficult.

• plus, he has trauma so loving someone else is hard for him— he doesn't like the possibility of loosing you like he lost his parents.

• so being your friend, becoming your best friend, is the first step!

• his love language is physical touch and quality time! He always has to be touching you in some way (his hand in yours, playing with your hair…) and he loves planning days out around the city with you!

• Pietro is very loving and he's also funny. he adores making you laugh and he'd do anything in his power to make you laugh when you're sad or crying or hurt (to distract you from the pain).

• once he's your boyfriend, the quality time becomes more domestic. he tries less—and not in a bad way. he's comfortable just laying around, reading or watching a show, and it's as good as planning a whole day like he used to (he would get himself worked up, the poor boy).

• when he does take you on dates, he goes all out now! He knows all your favorite things because he is observant so he'll take you to your favorite restaurant unprompted!

• Pietro's favorite way to spoil you is by doing things for you! He's very in tune with your emotions once he'd finally dating you!

• he never forgets an anniversary or a birthday, although you're worried he does because he's always spacey and all over the place 🥺 but he keeps a calendar specifically for your events, nothing else lmao.

• you and Wanda being friends is VERY important.

• he adores you and teaches you how to say things in Sokovian! he always teaches you about his culture and his traditions. it would take a while for him to open up, but once he does he doesn't hold back.

• he trusts you easily and he isn't jealous. he hates when other men flirt with you, but he is never jealous because he knows you are his and his alone!

• he is very protective over you though! like no one hurts his girl. ever.

* * *

warnings: mentions of sex

• i think the courting before the relationship would be involuntary stalker-ish 😭

• like he's obsessed with you. he can smell you everywhere! maybe he met you when he was visiting his brother in London and he hasn't stopped thinking about you and only you.

• for the first few months you don't even meet him and yet he's just there—watching. making sure you're safe.

• he never does anything weird or breach your privacy in ways that would make you hate him, he's just like your guardian angel 😏

• when he does talk to you, you're instantly intrigued. he's rugged and handsome and unlike any man you've ever met. you like him.

• your relationship starts with sex. you bring him to your apartment and have intense, weirdly passionate for someone you just met, sex.

• when you wake up, he's gone. but eventually he comes back with a pastry from a nearby shop and your relationship starts.

• Sergei is good at reading you and knowing what you're feeling without you needing to speak or ask him. he just knows.

• he visits London more than necessary to spend time with you, letting you be the second person on his phone 🥺

• he waits to tell you what he does for work. he doesn't want to scare you or make you feel unsafe.

• you are safe. you always are with him.

• once you know and you accept him for who he is, Sergei is wrapped around your pinky until you let him go. he would do anything for you.

• he has trust issues so whenever he starts an argument, it's because he was feeling a little insecure and didn't know how to bring up his feelings. his father never let him.

• he's never violent with you but he does yell in the beginning. which scares you, so he quickly learns to leave for a walk to calm down instead.

• you promise him that you aren't leaving him. he loves words of affirmation. he needs them because he hasn't heard many of them from his father.

• he's very gentle with you normally, touching you as if you are something to be worshiped. which he does. he worships you.

• his love language is gift giving. whenever he is away, he will always brings you back a present from his home in the woods. and it's always thoughtful.

• he will teach you some words in Russian and call you pet names in Russian.

• eventually, he asks you to move in with him. you're unsure because living in the woods is scary and you are afraid you'll miss your friends and family.

• Sergei doesn't force you. he tells you you don't have to decide immediately but he really wishes you will. but he's not forceful. he gives you time and he waits.

• when you decide you want to live with him eventually. and you don't regret it. Sergei is very devoted to you (he is very protective over you, duh). he also brings you back to London wherever you want, no hesitation.

[caelisblade]

༉‧₊˚. favorite crime - fushiguro toji

༉‧₊˚. synopsis: one moment, you were doing something as basic as taking out the trash (like, literally), the next moment you were getting fucked by a wanted felon who pretty much broke into your place in hopes you‘d harbor him for a few minutes until the coast was clear. who knew the thrill of crime was so exhilarating you needed a quick one-night-stand to come back to your senses? or did you lose your mind entirely and just didn‘t notice in the process of being fucked into tomorrow?

༉‧₊˚. warnings: you literally f/uck murderer!toji lol, unprotected s/ex, c/unnilingus, f/ingering, he calls you princess (like, a lot of times), toji talks A LOT like dude shut up lmao

༉‧₊˚. this was entirely inspired by a scene in the rookie where lucy made up a cover story for how juicy and dim met, it's basically that but with toji. this is a repost from my jujutsu kaisen blog @/tojisblade. i am currently in the process of combining both of my blogs into one.

he was in so much fucking trouble. 

never did he even think the cops were onto him, god, the fucking cops in plain clothes, they were in the same club he was as he was adding poison into his target’s drink. they literally saw him poison the drink. now they were running after him, trying to catch him. 

toji quickly ran into a massive apartment complex as he tried to flee the scene, the cops nearby behind him. looking around to see if there was anyone or any place he could hide, as he still ran. 

it was like fate when you opened the door, purely by coincidence. you were getting out to take out your trash as you saw him running frantically. “hey, are you oka–“, you started out asking, but got interrupted. 

“listen to me. the cops are after me and i need a hideout. can i stay in for a moment until they leave?”, he said, frantically. 

“w-what?”, you stuttered, completely caught off-guard. 

“fuck, just shut up”, he groaned before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you inside of your apartment. 

“hey! what do you think you’re doing?!”, you exclaimed, still not completely getting what was going on. you had dropped the bag in shock as he pulled you in. 

“shut. up!”, he hissed, looking out of the window, just to see the two cops who were after him walking around the apartment complex with their guns drawn and flashlights turned on as they cleared every corner. “shit.”

he looked around, trying to figure out what he could possibly do with his situation before he finally faced you. “okay, listen. my name is fushiguro toji, and i am being chased by the cops out there. i know, i’m just a stranger, but trust me, i am not going to hurt you, despite how this all seems like, considering the cops are after me.”

“uh… yeah, duh”, you scoffed, rolling your eyes. 

“roll those eyes at me again and i’ll reconsider”, he immediately continued, tone turning threatening almost immediately. “do not fucking interrupt me, princess.”

“fine, talk. you just broke into my apartment, so i do deserve some explanation. start talking, or i’ll kick you out for the cops to find you.”

“and I apologize for the break-in. i swear i don’t plan on hurting you because that is just unnecessary evil, even for me. i just need a couple of minutes here to hide, so that i can run in peace. is that okay?”, toji asked. you were so convinced you had lost your damn mind when you nodded and agreed that he could stay over for a couple of minutes. 

“if the cops knock, i am not here”, toji emphasized again, making sure you got it. you held yourself back from rolling your eyes again. you might’ve needed a moment to understand what was going on, but you were not dumb. 

as if on cue, there was a loud knock, startling you. you stayed quiet as you pointed at the bathroom for toji to hide. your heart was beating so fast, as you went to the door and asked; “who is there?”

“police department. we want to ask you a few questions”, the officer yelled back. 

“can you please identify yourself?”, you stalled as you checked if toji had hidden. you looked through the peephole as the cops held up their detective badges before you smiled softly and opened the door for the cops. 

“what seems to be the problem, detectives?”, you asked gently. 

“we are in search of a murderer going by the name, fushiguro toji. black haired, very tall and muscular. last seen wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. he is classified as extremely dangerous. we last saw him entering this apartment complex. have you seen him, by any chance?”, the officer asked. 

you pretended to think a little before you shook your head. “nope. i was actually on my way out to take out my trash so, i was inside the whole time.”

“alright, ma’am, please give us a call if you see or remember anything. would you want us to accompany you when you go outside, in case you don’t feel safe?” one of the two detectives handed you a card with his contact details as he spoke and offered his company. 

you nodded at the offer, tagging along as you took out your trash and thanked the officers for the help. “could you possibly tell me a little about that person you’re looking for? perhaps that will help me with my memory or something i can watch out for in the future?”

“i cannot disclose any details yet as it is an ongoing investigation, however, the current m.o of the suspect is that he uses poison in his victim’s drinks. so, perhaps just watch out for your drink the next time you’re out partying.”

“thank you, officers. i can return to my apartment alone, thank you for the company. i’ll uh… let you know if I see something”, you said goodbye to the officers before turning around. 

“goodbye, ma’am, have a good night”, they said in unison. 

you quickly headed back, your entire body was literally on fire after that short conversation and the fact that you were literally harboring a felon – a literal murderer – in your apartment had you shaking to your core. once you locked your apartment and made sure the cops were gone, you were suddenly pushed to the wall next to the door. “good girl. you did great”, Toji had you cornered, smirking at you as you looked at him with big eyes, shocked by his sudden action. 

“thank you”, you whispered back, not trusting your own voice. the little nickname caused you to subconsciously clench your legs together. his arm was over your head on the wall, cornering you between his huge body and the wall. “you’re not so bad yourself. out on several murder charges, huh?”

“so, you asked about me, didn’t you?”, toji chuckled, biting his lip. “yeah… what about it? you scared?”

“i should be, shouldn’t i? but god, it makes you oddly attractive and interesting. so, tell me, what is that all about?”, you ask then, a little smile sneaking onto your lips. “a murder suspect in my apartment, who insists on promising me that he won’t hurt me, hm?”

“attractive and interesting?”, Toji chuckled. “i may or may not have added some extra ingredient to some dickhead’s drink.” He casually shrugged, eyeing you up and down. 

“so, that was why they said to be careful of my drinks next time i’m out partying, huh?”, you replied. 

“i would never add some additional ingredient to your drink, princess”, toji taunted before he suddenly leaned in and kissed you. you couldn’t help but immediately melt into him, arms wrapping around his neck, as his one hand wrapped around your thigh and lifted it up around his hip. 

everything felt so surreal. one moment you were literally taking out your trash, the next you were not only harboring a murderer in your apartment, but also about to fuck him.

the kiss was so full of fire, so much passion and there was nothing but carnal desire and need – it was like the fact that he was a murderer, a wanted felon, flew right over your head. you simply couldn’t care less about it because, fuck, the entire situation was so incredibly hot, the fact that the cops were still around searching the premises was making you feel so tingly. 

“mhm, princess, you taste so sweet. i wonder if your pussy tastes just as sweet, hm?”, he whispered against your lips, smirking. “will you let me have a taste?”

“maybe… but maybe i won’t. you’ve got to earn it, mister.”

“what a tease, princess. but you know what, you shouldn’t tease me, because believe me, i can do better than that”, he continued, before he leaned back in to kiss you once more as you grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, your eyes going up and down over his very toned and muscular body. 

and you felt so insanely lucky to think about the fact that his body would be on top of you or underneath you in just a couple of minutes. 

“so, you wanna move this over to the bedroom or are you not that much of a gentleman and just fuck your women against a cold ass wall?”, you giggled.

“oh, I sure as hell do not keep my women cold and standing, mh? wouldn’t be so fair if i fuck you into oblivion and don’t give you a comfortable place to come down from the highs i give you, hm?”

“someone’s cocky. but alas, unfortunately, there has been nothing but talk so far, honey”, you reply, giggling before you squealed in shock as he lifted you up over his shoulder. 

“where’s the bedroom, princess?”, he asked, voice rough. “need to teach you how to properly speak to me before i reward you with pleasure you have never felt in your life before.”

when you pointed to the room, he immediately went in and dropped you onto your bed, quickly climbing onto you, practically ripping apart your clothes. “god, princess, you’re so hot, so gorgeous underneath me”, he groaned, lips wandering down to your tits before he wrapped them around your one nipple, sucking and licking over the sensitive nub. your body arched into him as you let out a whine and toji smirked, enjoying the way you responded to his touch. 

“reacting so fucking perfectly for me, princess. can’t wait to get a taste of your pretty pussy”, he teased. “did i earn it yet, princess?”

you nodded frantically. “fuck, just get to it”, you whined. 

“so bossy, princess. such a good little slut for the murderer you harbored in your home and protected without knowing what dangers could possibly await you”, he snickered, “does it excite you? knowing you lied to cops for me, for someone you don’t even know? for the murderer you’re about to fuck?” toji’s lips wandered down your body, slowly reaching your pussy and he pulled your panties aside to lick over your clit, flattening his tongue over your folds as he spread your legs apart with his hands. 

“fuck don’t stop!”, you cried out, back arching again into his grip around your waist. 

he looked up at you, smirking as some saliva was running down his chin, and he was watching your every reaction. toji had grown obsessed with how well you reacted to his touch, his tongue over your pussy, his lips sucking on your clit. “reacting so prettily for me, princess. want more? want me to fuck you? i’ll bring literal heaven to you, princess. if you let me.”

you were nodding once again, fingers buried in his hair as he lowered his head back again to your pussy and you felt two of his fingers against your entrance, slowly slipping in and fingering you slowly. your eyes widened in surprise, you let out a choked sob as his fingers hit your sweet spot – you cried out as he continued with the constant stimulation. 

“please, toji, fuck me, please?”, you whined, attempting to pull him closer back on top of you. however, he was obviously way stronger than you and could stay where he was with no trouble at all. 

“it’s rude to interrupt a man while he’s eating, princess”, he grunted, “let me make you cum first on my mouth, princess, then i’ll fuck you.”

you whined as he increased his finger’s pace, continuing the sweet torture on your pussy with his lips as well and your hips were jolting up as you got closer to your release. a cry left your lips as you begged him not to stop and felt him smirk against your clit, promising not to stop until you came for him. 

it didn’t take too long for him to fulfil that promise. the way everything practically shattered around you had you thinking about the last time you had felt this much pleasure at once. “holy shit”, you choked up. “that was… intense.”

“told you, princess, i’ll bring literal heaven to you”, he smirked, slowly climbing on top of you and watching you come down from your high. “did i keep my promise, princess?”

“you sure as hell did. but…”, you wrapped your arms around his neck as you pulled him closer for a kiss, “if you don’t put that damn cock of yours inside me anytime soon, i bet the cops will be very interested in knowing where you’re hiding.”

“you little minx… don’t worry, princess. i gave you a promise and i intend to keep it. you’re about to have the most intense night of your life.”

as he pulled down his jeans, your eyes widened as you saw his cock’s girth and length. you had already assumed that he was big, considering his big ass ego, but you didn’t expect this. he noticed your hesitation and laughed lightly. “don’t worry, princess, i won’t hurt you.”

“you’re a wanted criminal, do you think I trust your word?”

“i promised i wouldn’t hurt you and i kept that promise. i told you i would bring you to heaven and i did keep that promise, too, didn’t i?”

you considered his arguments and shrugged. he had a good point with that. 

“so, do you believe me when i tell you i won’t hurt you?”

You nodded. 

he smiled softly at you before he aligned his tip with your entrance, pulling your panties aside once more and finally, pushed his cock inside slowly, inch by inch, slowly getting you used to his size. your back arched when he was buried inside of you fully, a tear rolling down your cheek as your body was basically on fire. 

“you’re so tight, princess, feels so good”, he groaned, waiting for a moment to let you adjust to the stretch. “can’t wait to fuck this tight and perfect pussy of yours.”

“please, fuck me”, you whimpered, nails raking over his back as he slowly started a tender, gentle pace and before you knew it, he was starting to build a merciless, brutal rhythm, making your tits bounce with the frantic way he was thrusting into you.

the sound of his hips snapping against yours had your eyes rolls back, your legs were wrapped around his waist as you held onto him and you were pleading him not to stop, practically crying and he fucked you so good like you never had been before. 

“goddamn it, princess, you’re so fucking hot when you get fucked like this. do you like how i fuck you, hm?”, he rasped, lips wandering over your neck. His hips stuttered as pleasure like he never felt before coursed through his body, getting closer and closer to the edge. “i’m going to cum, princess, where do you want me to cum, hm? on your pretty tits? in your mouth, so you’ll have to swallow every single drop? or maybe inside of your tight, perfect pussy, hm? give you a good old load of me and make you feel it drip down your thighs when i pick you up and fuck you against the wall over there?”

his words had your eyes roll back at the visual. “please, inside”, you whined, sobbing as you clenched around him and finally reached your peak, coming around him again, sputtering in pleasure. “fuck, toji”, you practically wailed. 

“am i keeping my promise, princess?”

“yes, fuck, you are, stop asking me that and cum in me”, you groaned in annoyance. 

“still so bossy, princess”, he laughed before he continued his rough pace and shortly after let out a choked breath, hips stilling as he came inside of you. toji wasn’t moving at all, trying to come down from his high while he relaxed his body. “fuck, princess, you feel so incredible.”

“oh, fuck, this was better than anything i have ever felt before.”

“i’m glad i got to prove to you how good i can fuck you”, he chuckled, slowly pulling out of you and laying down next to you. 

“hey, i thought you were going to fuck me against the wall and have your cum drip down my thighs?!”

“you wanna go again?”

“hell fucking yes”, you snorted and squealed when he got up on his feet and pulled you up before pushing you against the wall, lifting your legs around his waist as he kept you up against the wall and quickly slid his cock back inside of you, fucking you again and bringing you to yet another earth-shattering orgasm and another one. 

and the most exhilarating part of this was that you could hear the detectives through the thin walls, discussing their next move to finally find the guy who currently had his cock buried deep inside of you. 

the one who you had lied to the cops to, making you an accessory to the murder he had committed.

but you couldn’t care less about it, because goddamn, this was the best fuck you had gotten in your entire life. 

[kwoniele]

thanos headcanons (n)sfw ۶ৎ

warnings: smut, jealousy, sensory deprivation, bdsm mention (they don’t actually perform anything of the sort), fingering, oral (f receiving), public fingering lol, tease, edging, overstimulation, manhandling aaanndd thats all!

𖦹 really unpopular opinion (or so bc i’ve never seen anyone really talk about it) but i feel like he’d be really protective 😭 for example; if you two were on a date, rather than sitting across from you, he’d be next to you so it’s more obvious you two are together etc.

—

𖦹 in the games, he’s very silly and childish and that doesn’t change with you at all. he’s the same goofy person you know, but he will always make sure he gets babied by you lol it’s like healing his inner child.

—

𖦹 will absolutely spoil you if ever he finally voted x (which he would never do but its a headcanon) he’d buy you luxury bags, limited edition jewelry… literally everything you’d look absolutely gorgeous in.

“baby what about this one? this looks cute on you!”

“subong-ah.. that’s $350.?”

—

𖦹 never lets his friends near you lmao 😭😭 nam-gyu would just be talking to you for help with something and he’d butt in and give him advice instead LOOL

“hey, so i was thinking maybe this color would look nicer—”

“looks like shit. absolutely not. go away.”

—

𖦹 definitely the “i know you can, but let me” kind of guy. you could be baking a cake for se-mi’s birthday and then suddenly you look beside you and thanos is putting on a purple apron and cracking eggs for him to whisk up afterward.

“thanos, i can do it myself—”

“i know, but i want to do it with you. so teach me how to do this so next time i can help you better.”

—

𖦹 okay so he’s a very unserious person, but if you were in a vulnerable state, he will always be there to embrace you. he’d rock you in his arms and let you get his shirt all wet bc he loves you and he can’t stand seeing you cry ☹️

“shh, it’s okay. i’m here. i’ll always be here for you.”

—

𖦹 an absolute sweetheart to you in public, fucks you like you’re his slut in private. the things he would do to you oh my goodness 😭 definitely the type to manhandle you, esp when ure being bratty

—

𖦹 loves to edge & overstimulate you lmfao he thinks you squriming and moaning for him is absolutely theatrical 😭

“fuck. subong—”

“what’s wrong baby? need to cum that bad?”

—

𖦹 isn’t the biggest fan of bdsm bc you’re his princess and he’d never want you to feel otherwise BUT this man would def be into sensory deprivation 😭 if you’re asking to be fucked HARD, he won’t hold back and will make sure a blindfold is on and your hands are tied to the bed frame so you can’t touch him at all

“you’re so pretty like this, baby. i could listen to your moans all night. yeah? you want that? want me to fuck your cute pussy until morning? hmm?”

—

𖦹 thanos can be both a soft dom or a hard dom. it just really depends on his mood. if you managed to piss him off by flirting with other guys to pique his jealousy? you won’t be seeing the light of day. if you’re both exhausted and in need of relief? he’ll take care of you so well.

—

𖦹 the absolute MASTER of fingering & eating u out. you are an independent, iconic woman and yet you become the biggest pillow princess around that man. if you were at a restaurant? best believe his hands are on your thigh, slowly hiking up towards your core until he slips in a few fingers into your hole.

“they’re going to hear you, love. wouldn’t want that do we? or do you want them to know how i’m making you feel so good?”

—

𖦹 if you and thanos were living with nam-gyu, min-su, se-mi, gyeong-su … etc they will absolutely tease the both of you bc of how loud you guys are during sex 😭 it’s so bad that they would probably have to move out bc u keep disturbing them at night LOOOLL

“subong-ssi was not holding back last night, huh?”

“se-mi! what the fuck??”

[rispwr]

Hate you - chapter 9 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : i just finished the entire story like all chapters omg? but this one is short hihi wdbjhabhd. i wanted to make this chapter focusing on what happened to jungkook and honestly i feel so bad. there's more to his backstory than to this and hopefully it'll make it to the cut lmao. should i post the drafts? the scenes that didn't make the fic?

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings for this chapt :

violence, threatening, i hate rose we all say in unison

series masterlist - crossposted to wattpad with the same name and username!

2 weeks before the break up

The dining room was quiet except for the gentle clink of utensils against the plates. Jungkook sat with his stepmom and his dad, the silence between them punctuated by polite conversation.

Then, a maid appeared in the doorway, her expression hesitant. "Sir, someone's at the door," she said, her voice breaking the calm.

Before anyone could react, Jungkook stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'll get it," he said quickly, already heading toward the door. "It might be Y/N."

But when he opened the door, his breath caught in his throat.

"Mom..." he whispered, his eyes wide as he took in the figure standing before him.

Before he could say another word, she shoved her way inside, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor.

"Mom, no!" he said, rushing after her. "Don't- don't go in there," he pleaded, his voice tense and panicked.

She spun to face him, her expression sharp and unyielding. "Why? You don't want me to know that your dad's cheating on me with some gold digger?" she snapped, her voice rising enough to echo through the house.

The words carried through the hallway, and Jungkook's dad appeared a moment later, his expression tight and controlled. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice calm but laced with an edge.

The moment his eyes landed on her, he faltered. "Rose..." he said, his tone shifting to warning. "Get out."

"And why should I?" his mom scoffed, crossing her arms.

"You're ruining my family," his dad said, his voice low and deliberate as he pointed toward the door.

"Me ruining my own family?" she shot back, her tone dripping with derision.

Jungkook's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling as the argument unfolded in front of him. The scene felt eerily familiar. 

His stepmom, who had clearly overheard the commotion, entered the hallway cautiously. But before she could say anything, Jungkook's mom lunged at her, grabbing her hair with both hands.

Screams erupted as the two women struggled, the chaos shattering the fragile calm of the house. His dad rushed forward, trying to pull them apart, his voice booming as he demanded they stop.

Jungkook stood frozen, his legs refusing to move. The sight before him blurred into memories of his childhood. the sound of his mother's voice raised in anger, the sharp crashes of objects breaking, the way she had torn his toys apart in front of him during her fits of rage.

He was no longer standing in the hallway as a grown man. He was that same little boy again, powerless and scared, unable to speak or act as his world fell apart around him.

The sound of yelling grew louder, but it all felt distant, like he was underwater. His dad's frantic voice mixed with his stepmom's cries and his mom's shrill accusations, but Jungkook couldn't make sense of the words.

He wished he could move. He wished he could say something, do something..... or anything. But his body refused to listen. He was stuck, a statue in the middle of the chaos, his heart pounding as he watched the scene unfold.

A child raised for the company by his mother.

A child who had his innocence stolen. 

A child whose childhood was taken advantage of.

As his stepmom cried out in pain, as his dad struggled to drag his mom away, Jungkook felt the weight of everything crash down on him again.

He clenched his fists tightly, his nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady his breathing. But no matter how hard he tried, the helplessness of that little boy refused to let him go.

-----

Jungkook gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as the city lights blurred past him.

When he finally reached his apartment, he parked the car with trembling hands and stumbled inside, slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned against it, his head falling back as he closed his eyes, willing his racing heart to slow down.

His phone was in his hand before he realized it, the screen lighting up with his step moms name.

“Mom? Are you guys okay? Did she leave already?” he asked the moment she picked up, his voice frantic and uneven.

“Yes, dear,” her gentle voice replied, soothing in its familiarity. “She’s gone. Your father’s with me right now. Everything’s fine here.”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Thank God. I—”

His stepmom cut him off softly. “I’ll go now. Your father and I have a lot to talk about, okay?”

“Wait—” Jungkook started, but the line went dead before he could finish.

He stared at his phone, his mind reeling. Her calm tone should’ve comforted him, but instead, it left him feeling hollow.

Sliding down to the floor, Jungkook pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to stave off the oncoming headache. He stayed there for a long time, the quiet of his apartment amplifying the noise in his head.

A few days passed, and on the surface, things seemed to settle. His stepmom didn’t bring up the incident, his dad returned to his usual stoic self, and Jungkook tried to convince himself that it was over.

But deep down, he knew better.

The confirmation came when Rose, called him out of the blue, her tone deceptively sweet.

“Meet me at the cafe,” she had said. It wasn’t a request.

He almost didn’t go, but something in her voice told him he wouldn’t have a choice either way.

At the cafe, the air was heavy with unease. Rose sat across from him, impeccably dressed as always, her expression calm but her eyes sharp and calculating.

“Here,” she said, sliding a brown envelope across the table with a casualness that made Jungkook’s stomach churn.

“What’s this?” he asked, his voice wary as he reached for it.

“Open it,” she said, leaning back in her chair, her smile almost smug.

With hesitant hands, Jungkook opened the envelope and pulled out a stack of documents. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes scanned the pages.

It was everything.

Information about you, your family, your company, even the smallest details about your life that no one should have access to, And mixed in were details about his own family. his dad, his stepmom, their financials, their connections.

He looked up at her, his face pale. “What is this?”

“It’s leverage,” she said simply, her tone so casual it made his skin crawl.

“Leverage for what?” he snapped, his voice rising.

Rose smirked, tilting her head as if she were talking to a naive child. “I’m sure you wouldn’t want your poor girlfriend to suffer, would you, Jungkook?”

His jaw tightened, his hands gripping the papers so hard his knuckles turned white. “Rose—”

“Oh, is that what you call your mother now?” she interrupted with a bitter laugh, her voice dripping with mockery.

“Mom…” he tried again, his voice strained. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” she echoed, her smile vanishing as her eyes hardened. “Because I’m your mother, and you owe me. Do you know what it was like to be cast aside? To watch your father replace me with your precious step mom?”

She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You think I’ll just sit back and let him take everything from me? Let her take everything from me?”

“You’re ruining lives, Mom,” Jungkook said through gritted teeth, his emotions teetering on the edge. “You’re ruining my life. everyones life!”

“Am I?” she said with a mocking tilt of her head. “Or am I giving you a choice?”

Jungkook froze as her words sank in.

“Either you stay with me in the States,” she said, her voice cold and calculating, “and your girlfriend will be… fine.” Her lips curled into a cruel smile. “Or you stay here, and I’ll make both of your lives a living hell.”

“You wouldn’t…” he whispered, his voice trembling.

“Oh, I would,” she said, leaning back with a satisfied smirk. “And you know I can. Your girlfriend, your father, your precious stepmom, they’re all within my reach.”

Jungkook’s mind raced, panic and despair clawing at his chest. “Why are you doing this?” he asked again, his voice breaking.

“Because i don't like being replaced” she said simply. “And i'm your mother, jungkook.”

She stood, smoothing out her designer coat as if this were just another business meeting. “I’ll give you three days,” she said, her voice calm and final. “Three days to decide. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

And with that, she walked out, leaving Jungkook alone at the table, his world crumbling around him.

That night, Jungkook sat in his car outside your apartment, staring up at the window where the light from your room glowed softly. His phone sat in his lap, the screen illuminated with a single name: Rose.

His hands trembled as he picked it up, his finger hovering over the call button. Every fiber of his being screamed at him not to do it, but he couldn’t see another way out.

With a shaky breath, he pressed the button and brought the phone to his ear.

“I—I’m coming,” he said, his voice barely audible as tears welled in his eyes.

The line went dead, and Jungkook sat there in the silence, his chest heaving as the first tear slid down his cheek.

He wiped at his face, but the tears wouldn’t stop. He thought of your smile, your laugh, the way you looked at him like he was your whole world. And now, he was about to shatter that world.

Eventually, he forced himself out of the car and into your apartment. When he stepped into your bedroom, you were asleep, your figure peaceful and serene under the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the curtains.

Jungkook’s throat tightened as he climbed into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms. You stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent before settling against him.

He held you tighter than ever, his face buried in your hair as silent tears streamed down his face.

It felt like goodbye.

And Jungkook didn’t know if he’d ever forgive himself for it.

[itsjaywalkers]

nada que perder

jegulus microfic (not really micro tho you guys know me lmao) | 3.4k | very questionable age gap (it's left ambiguous in this one but reg is 17 and james is . 31) (nothing actually happens between them but just in case), unrequited love (or is it..), loosely based in this spanish show i've been obsessed with lately

James climbs up the rusty stairs of the building as he rolls his shoulders lightly, in an attempt to get rid of the sense of unfamiliarity hanging off him. He supposes that he just needs some time to become used to the new place, but he spent years and years of his life coming over to Alphard’s old house. And besides, this flat isn’t exactly an upgrade from the little estate where the man had been living in less than a month ago. 

But, then again, this development is partly James’ fault, so he probably shouldn’t be sharing his opinion on the place, or the new neighbourhood for that matter. It’s already bad enough that he, Alphard and Frank have all been transferred to Orion’s station. Shitty flats and mildly dangerous neighbourhoods are the least of their worries. 

He rubs at his eyes, fingers slipping under his glasses, before he lets out a soft sigh. Honestly, this whole thing feels like a fucking joke. If it weren’t for Alphard and Frank, James would’ve already quit. Sure, he loves his job—most of the time, at least—but not enough to bear this kind of torture. He has to answer to Lucius Malfoy now, for fuck’s sake. The thought of it is almost enough to make him nauseous. 

James sighs one more time, and then he finally knocks on the door. He hears some shuffling inside nearly immediately, and some muffled yelling that drags a little smile out of him. 

The door opens less than twenty seconds later, James being greeted with a pair of steely eyes and tousled black curls. 

His grin widens. 

“Oh,” the boy mumbles, leaning against the doorframe. He doesn’t reciprocate James’ smile, but he visibly brightens, gaze turning soft around the edges. “Hi, James.”

“Hey,” James greets him back with a slight tilt of his head. “Is Regulus now, right?”

The boy nods, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Yeah,” Regulus replies, suddenly sounding a little shy. He averts his eyes, and James has to bite his tongue to stop himself from poking fun at him. “You like it?”

“‘Course,” James says without missing a beat, and he truly means it. It took a bit to get used to, that’s why he refused to visit Alphard for a couple of weeks, until he was sure he wasn’t going to slip up. But he believes it suits the boy perfectly. “It’s really pretty.”

“You think so?” Regulus questions, staring up at James with big, shiny eyes. There’s a soft pink spreading all over his cheeks. 

“Absolutely. And I can still call you Reggie.”

“Always,” Regulus agrees with a tiny nod. The corners of his mouth twitch, and even though his lips don’t completely curl upwards, James still takes it as a win. “Do you want to come in?”

James chuckles gently. “That was kinda the plan, yes.”

The blush on Regulus’ face worsens, but then he’s stepping aside, turning his head away from James. Still, the tip of his ears are red, and all that colour seems to spread even down his neck and to his collarbones, which are peeking from his white shirt. Regulus doesn’t seem to be wearing anything apart from his briefs under them, so James assumes he must be getting ready for school.

“Where’s your uncle?” James asks as he begins to make his way down the hall before Regulus slides in front of him, halting his advances. 

“Why? Are you here to pick him up?” Regulus arches an eyebrow. James represses a snort at the way the boy has to crane his neck up to look him in the eye. He thinks Regulus might be trying to appear intimidating. 

“Yup. First day on the new station and all, figured it would be nice,” James says with a shrug. “Also, he’ll end up being late otherwise.” 

Regulus huffs. “That is if he even shows up.”

“Oh, he will. I’ll make sure of it, trust me.”

“Good. Andy will kill him otherwise.” 

“I’m surprised she hasn’t yet,” James admits, amused.

“She nearly did, when my uncle first dropped the news,” Regulus sighs, tucking a curl behind his ear. “She wasn’t very happy about moving. And seeing the flat definitely didn’t help.”

James clicks his tongue, eyes roaming briefly around the hall, and even though there isn’t much to see just yet, he understands Andromeda’s reluctance quite well. The walls are stained near the ceiling, and most of the paint is chipped. He catches sight of a box at the end of the hall, probably because they still haven’t had time to finish unpacking. The carpet looks old and worn-out and like it hasn’t been cleaned in years. James has to make an active effort to not turn his nose up at the sight of it.

“C’mon, it’s not that bad,” James mutters, avoiding Regulus’ eyes as he runs a hand through his hair. “It has a—a certain charm. It’s sort of, um, cosy? In a way? Yeah, ah, very cosy, and, and welcoming—”

Regulus lets out a little snort, but before it can develop into a proper laugh, the boy covers his mouth with a hand, pressing harshly and schooling his expression into something more serious. 

“Shut up,” Regulus murmurs, gaze downcast. James can only smirk at him, before he attempts to pull the boy’s hand away from his face. He doesn’t get far, because Regulus swats his fingers, but it’s worth it nonetheless, if only because of the roll of eyes and the tiny smile it earns him. “You’re not funny.”

“Really? Because you were laughing,” James teases him cheekily, crouching slightly to take a peek at his grin.

Regulus turns his face away, but James doesn’t miss the way his lips spread a little wider. 

“Barely,” the boy sniffs. “This place fucking sucks.” 

James feigns a gasp, clutching dramatically at his chest. “My god, Reggie,” James scolds him halfheartedly. “The mouth on you. What would your uncle say?”

“Please, my uncle is even worse,” Regulus scoffs. James can only chuckle under his breath because, well, yeah. Alphard swears even more than James, and that’s saying a lot. 

“Still. You used to be so proper with your words,” James points out, raising both eyebrows. “Such an obedient boy.”

“Well, not anymore,” Regulus retorts with a defiant raise of his chin. He’s still blushing, however, so it doesn’t have much of an effect. Not like Regulus could ever inspire in James anything apart from fondness. Maybe exasperation too, on occasion, because he does love to be difficult just for the sake of it. “I’m almost an adult now, you know.”

James snorts loudly, a furrow immediately appearing in Regulus’ brow. “Is that so?” 

“Are you mocking me?” Regulus inquires, voice tight, his mouth twisting into a pout. 

“Never.” James places a hand over his heart, shaking his head as he bites the inside of his cheek to keep his grin at bay. “It’s just—you’re barely seventeen, Reggie.”

“Like I said, almost an adult,” Regulus insists with a firm nod. 

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say.”

“And you know what that means, right, James?” 

Regulus’ expression shifts as he takes a step closer, until there’s nearly no space between their bodies. Regulus watches him from under his lashes, eyes wide and bright and puppy-like, the red on his cheeks still very much there, and James tenses up almost immediately. 

He considers stepping away, but ultimately decides against it. Showing any kind of reaction will only get Regulus’ hopes up, regardless of rejection. James must remain either indifferent or mildly amused. The boy will see anything else as a possible open, and James can’t have that. Not when they’ve been treading this very thin line for nearly a year. 

James had hoped that this… change, or discovery, or whatever Regulus prefers to call it, would help with his silly crush on James, but apparently coming out as a boy hasn’t diffused Regulus’ feelings. If anything, it only seems to have made him bolder. 

“Sure,” James replies, shrugging one shoulder, his tone casual. “It means you’re gonna be eighteen.”

Regulus exhales loudly through his nose, and James has to repress the sudden urge to coo and pinch his cheeks. 

He looks so disappointed. James hates to be the one to put that sort of expression on that adorable face, but he refuses to entertain his delusions, no matter how much he cares about him. 

“Yes,” Regulus agrees, stilted. “Legally an adult.”

“You’re always gonna be a kid in my eyes.”

Regulus’ frown becomes even more pronounced, and his pout comes back full force. James’ heart gives a painful flip at the sight, and he can’t help but hate himself a little because of it. 

“Anyways, are you gonna let me through, or…” James says, scratching at the side of his jaw, at his stubble. “No offence, Reggie, you know I love our chats, but—”

“In a moment,” Regulus mutters, squirming a little in place before he puffs out his chest and meets James’ gaze head on. “You haven’t greeted me properly.”

James blinks at him, and then raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Because I’m pretty sure I said hi as soon as you opened the door—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Regulus protests, and for a second, James is convinced he’s going to stomp his foot. “It’s just—you’ve always been more affectionate, and I, I haven’t seen you in weeks, and because now I look like—like this, so different, then maybe—”

“Reggie, love, it has nothing to do with that, you hear me?” James cuts him off a bit more sharply than intended, one of his hands twitching with the need to reach out. “Nothing. You’re still the same to me, and the care and affection I feel for you—that’s never gonna change, okay?”

“Okay,” Regulus responds in a whisper, gaze so filled with adoration James nearly has to look away.

He sighs. “Fine, what do you want? A hug? You missed me that much, Reggie?”

“Yes, I did,” Regulus tells him without missing a beat, and James’ teasing smile falls slightly. He swallows. “And I was thinking about a kiss, actually.”

“Reg,” James says, the warning clear in his tone. 

“On the cheek!” Regulus rushes to clarify, blinking rapidly at him, all innocent and genuine. James knows better than to believe him, though. “You used to kiss me on the cheek constantly.”

“Yeah, when you were, like, fourteen—”

“Didn’t you say I’m always going to be a kid in your eyes? It shouldn’t make that much of a difference.”

“I guess, but—”

“Come on, Jamie,” Regulus insists, whiny and needy and so sweet, always so painfully sweet. “I haven’t seen you in so long.”

“I know, Reggie, and I missed you too, I really did, but I’m just not sure if that’s a good idea—”

“Please,” Regulus murmurs, pressing even closer, to the point James can feel the warmth radiating from the boy’s body. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of his state of undress, of the fact that he’s only wearing briefs under his school shirt.

James traps his lower lip between his teeth, and he pretends that he doesn’t notice the way Regulus follows the movement with his eyes, pupils dilating. 

He should refuse. James knows he should refuse. This madness has been going on for far too long, since Regulus was fifteen, and what James used to believe was sort of cute and natural, something that would pass on its own after a few months, has been growing to the point James feels like it’s getting out of his control. And now that Regulus seems to be feeling confident enough to do more than glance longingly at him and blush whenever James is close, he knows he ought to put a definite end to it. Nip the whole thing from the bud. Even if that means breaking Regulus’ heart. It’ll be better for him in the long run.

The problem is that James has never been good at denying Regulus anything. He’s always been his only weakness, and that hasn’t changed. James doesn’t think it ever will. 

“Okay,” James sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, but his mouth twitches helplessly when Regulus beams at him. “But only one,” he reminds the boy, raising a finger and pointing it at Regulus, who nods quickly. “And on the cheek. No games, Reggie, and I fucking mean that.”

“I swear,” Regulus assures him, nodding once more. He’s getting on his tiptoes a second later, and James exhales softly, staying put, allowing Regulus to go for it.

At first, Regulus does keep his word. He presses his lips softly to the high of James’ cheek, and automatically, not giving it much thought, James wraps an arm around Regulus’ waist, hand resting on the small of his back. He feels the boy’s smile against the side of his face.

Regulus lingers there for longer than necessary, but James indulges him, endlessly endeared. And besides, he did mean it when he said that he had missed Regulus. He adores the boy, and putting some distance between them wasn’t an easy choice. It’s been hard on James, too, even though he’s aware that he’s doing the right thing. Having Regulus in his arms once again feels good, and James wishes it could always be like this. Easy affection and sweet touches. 

James squeezes lightly and Regulus finally pulls away, a big smile taking all over his expression. However, he doesn’t go too far, and after looking at James for a couple of seconds, he dives in again, although this time, his mouth changes trajectory, the intentions behind the movement clear. 

He manages to avoid it at the last second, turning his head enough for Regulus’ lips to press against the corner of his mouth instead. James stiffens up, fingers spasming where they’re resting on Regulus’ back, on his waist. The scent of strawberries fills his senses, making James slightly dizzy, urging him to bury his nose in those lovely curls, to pull the boy even closer.

James makes sure to swat the idea away before it can take root, before his body can think of listening to it.  

“Regulus,” James hisses in warning. 

The boy giggles against his skin, but he obeys, stepping away, a mischievous grin curving his lips. James pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, and wills himself not to yell. 

He still has his arms wrapped around Regulus.

“Oops,” the boy comments, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “My bad.”

“You can’t do that shit, Reg,” James tells him sternly, and yet, his voice doesn’t come off as angry as it probably should. “We’ve talked about this. You know better. Fuck, this isn’t—”

“Okay, okay,” Regulus huffs out, still smiling, raising his hands in mock surrender. He can be such a menace. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, yeah? I promise.”

“I’m not sure if I can trust you after what you just pulled—”

“Don’t be a baby, Jamie, it was nothing—”

“You and I both know it’s not so simple—”

“Regulus!” a voice exclaims from somewhere behind the boy. Andromeda. “Who is it!?”

“It’s just James!” he answers in the same tone.

James lets go of Regulus as if burnt, and he also takes a few steps away from him, just in case, his heartbeat quickening to the point he can hear it rumbling inside his head. Regulus watches him with his head tilted to the side, blinking at him with feigned confusion. 

He squints his eyes at the boy, his jaw clenched, but before he gets the chance to open his mouth, Andromeda’s head is poking out from the end of the hall, smile pulling wide at his lips the moment her eyes settle on James. 

James forces himself to reciprocate the gesture, swallowing back down the bile that tries to climb up his throat. 

“What are you doing, standing there like an idiot?” she huffs out, visibly amused. “Come in! I bet you haven’t had any breakfast yet.”

“I had a coffee,” James argues, adjusting his belt and the holster attached to it. “And a fag.”

“Typical,” Andromeda scoffs. “Luckily for you, there’s more than enough food for you too. I had a feeling you were gonna be here today.”

“You know me too well.”

“That, and Alphard has been whining all morning about how he refuses to go to work.”

James lets out a resigned sigh. “Figures. Don’t worry, Andy, I’ll drag his stubborn ass to the station myself.”

“Good,” she chuckles, and then he’s focusing on Regulus, his expression shifting into something more serious. “And you, go get dressed! It’s nearly eight already, you’re gonna be late at this rate and you haven’t even finished your breakfast yet.”

“Fine,” Regulus groans, rolling his eyes so hard his head tilts back. He turns around, beginning to make his way towards his cousin, but not without throwing one last glance at James over his shoulders, giving him a cheeky smile. 

“Hurry up,” Andromeda urges him, swatting him with the cloth she’s holding when Regulus walks past her. “If we get another call about your tardiness you’re gonna be grounded for a bloody month.”

“But I already missed the bus,” Regulus complains. “I’m gonna have to walk again—”

“Fuck, Regulus, you’re a mess.” Andromeda shuts her eyes briefly, massaging her temples. “This is why you should’ve agreed to leave with Sirius, he could’ve given you a ride—”

“Over my dead body,” Regulus snarls, hands curling into fists.

Andromeda clicks her tongue, and James arches an eyebrow at her, the question clear in the gesture. 

“They’re currently not speaking to each other,” she explains, deadpan. “Again.” 

James isn’t quick enough to suppress a snort, and he has to purse his lips to keep more from coming when Regulus turns to scowl at him. 

“What happened this time?” he asks her, despite all his attention being on Regulus.

“None of your fucking business,” Regulus snaps as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Sirius is just being a prick, is all.”

“Language,” Andromeda scolds him, but it’s weak, half-hearted. She focuses on James a second later, and she seems to light up a little.  “Oi, James, could you drive Reg and Tonks to school? Please?”

Regulus visibly perks up at this, and he gives James a pleading look, the puppy-like kind, the one James has always been unable to resist. 

“Uh,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, avoiding both Regulus and Andromeda’s gazes. “I don’t know, Andy, it’s the first day on the new job, and me and the guys can’t afford to—”

“It shouldn’t take too long,” Andromeda insists. “Reg won’t make it in time otherwise, and he can’t afford to be late again. And Ted can’t drop Tonks off at school today, he had to leave early for a meeting—”

“Fine, fine, okay!” James interrupts her, cursing himself internally. “But we need to leave in ten, yeah?”

“Thank you!” Andromeda says, rushing down the hall to hug James so tightly he swears his ribs crack. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! Honestly, what would we do without you?”

“I ask myself that question every morning,” James huffs with a shake of his head. He raises his head, gazing at Regulus over Andromeda’s shoulder. “C’mon, Reggie, go get ready. And bring Tonks too.”

Regulus nods, and the grin he offers James rivals the goddamn sun. “You’re the best, Jamie.” 

He disappears around the corner right after, and James feels a pull at his stomach he attributes to its emptiness. Perhaps Andromeda, with all her nagging, is right. She does tend to be, after all. 

“I owe you one,” she sighs, pulling away. She squeezes James’ arms gently, smiling up at him, and then she’s grabbing him by the wrist and pulling, dragging him with her down the hall. “Now let’s get you something to eat, you have time for some toast before you leave.”

“Don’t be silly, you don’t owe me shit. You never do. I’m happy to help, Andy. You’re family. All of you are,” James tells her honestly, barely repressing a wince. “I won’t say no to some toast, though,” he adds a bit cheekily. 

Andromeda throws her head back and laughs, and all of James’ worries vanish with the sound. 

Or at least, the ones that don’t concern a certain black-haired boy do.

[red-doll-face]

Snow Angel 11

Chapter 11: fevered Series Masterlist

low - medium honor Arthur Morgan x fem. Reader

Arthur has been living by himself, laying low (for real this time) somewhere in the Pacific Northwest. After the whole Pinkerton and Micah debacle, he has been hiding away, waiting for it all to blow over, occasionally getting letters from the people who still know that he’s alive. He’s been alone awhile and at first, he thought he could handle a little loneliness. He has been wrong before. Lucky for him, you look like the perfect thing to break up the monotony.

Warnings: dubious consent, arthur’s mental health is kind of not so good…VERY low honor Arthur, darkish fic, a bit of naive reader. Reader has dated and period typical ideals, not very good ideas about men and marriage… if you want reader to be strong and a fighter… this is not for you sorry. suggestive themes. Huge HUGe Voyeurism bit, arthur being a perv 🤨👀 huge weirdo energy LMAO small mention of wanting death, WC: 7780 Hello snow angels : ) here is chapter 11!!! this chapter will be from arthurs perspective so very exciting 😳 i had a ton of fun just getting nasty with him and writing his fucked up little thoughts 😈 arthur inner monologue was a bit weird at first but im sure ill get better at it by actually attempting to do it LMAO i hope you guys enjoy and pls let me know what you think!!! i wanna thank everyone who has left replies and asks about this series, all of you have been so supportive and amazing, couldnt do it without you guys 🥹🥹💖💖💖 also this ended up way too long so sorry Tags: lots of angst todayyy, no TB, weird but not that toxic relationship, Arthur being a menace.Arthur being rude as always just… low honor arthur as a warning lol - What does it matter if the man who saved your life is a little strange?

It must be dusk falling too soon. Slow deprivation of heat and light; does things to his head, as if that wasn’t half screwed off already. Arthur’s fingers clutch the dusty curtain in front of one of two main windows at the front of his cabin; his eyes swear they can see…something out in the treeline. At first he thought of Pinkertons; to collect that bounty they were on about. Why they would follow him to the ends of the earth for that would be beyond him but Arthur had been known to do stupid things for a big payout. And of course, he hadn’t lived this long without a healthy amount of paranoia. Or what he called caution. Or perhaps Charles should have left his ass at the nearest asylum.

But he can sense that he’s wrong when nothing comes of it. No gunshots, no desperate shoot out for his life. Just the quiet again. In a minute, he’ll look out the window and watch the figure disappear. And he’ll shake his head, rub his calloused fingers over his tired eyes. He drops the curtain, pouring another cup of coffee at the silver percolator in the kitchen. He is not losing his grip; he isn’t. He’d leave that to Dutch. 

It’s gotten worse with the winter; those strange things he sees from time to time. They make him feel more out of place than he already does. As if there’s something wrong with him, wrong with this moment. The frost grows over the windows like mold.

The summer sun kept the darkness from slipping in and leaking into his vision. But that’s long gone, been gone for a month. Shit weather up here, long dragging winters. Summers that were too short for his liking and an autumn that was beautiful but also short lived. The winter is too heavy now to do much of anything but loop out to the stable and back. Not much sightseeing to do, the same shock white landscape to see everyday. 

In spite of how beautiful the mountain is; with its sprawling forest, creeks like liquid glass, the fresh winter air… Arthur finds it arduous to see it. Closing himself inside his cabin is easier. He could go and hunt something, draw the scenery. But was that any better than the fireplace? The comfort and simultaneous unease of staying inside the confines of his new home drag him in opposite directions. And even if his paranoid visions are just residue from another time in his life; he knows there are people who could be still searching, who might remember his face. Bad things had a way of following Arthur wherever he went. 

Even more loathsome is the lack of sunlight. The sun disappears around 4 or 5 and it feels like it was midnight by 6. The windows of his wooden cabin blacken like soot, leaving him tired and groggy. 

Arthur tries to keep himself going with bitterness like always. Coffee, cigarettes, and alcohol. He thinks the lack of light plays with his head. It’s easy to mistake shadows for ghosts, trusting himself was hard as it was. 

Damn snow, cuts to the bone.

The stunning silence surprises him still at these odd moments in the day. Arthur thought that maybe the peace would do him some good. But there was a need that scratched incessantly at the front of his skull. Over and over and over. 

He spent a long time being needed by other people. Dutch made him feel needed at the very least. Like he was part of something that symbolized how free a man could be. And he had devoted every shred of himself to the vision that Dutch had for the world. It was all that mattered to Arthur. His fealty was really all he had to give and so he gave it. 

God, had he felt the fool on the last day he saw him, when Dutch walked away, as if everything Arthur had ever done was nothing to him. Twenty goddamn years of his life. If he was being honest, he knew that his loyalty was wasted before that day but he had waited to see if the man he knew would emerge. If he could kill that gutless rat and show Dutch the truth but he refused, leaving Arthur with nothing to show for it. Helping John, Abigail and Jack to safety was barely a comfort when he thought of all that he wasted. All he did was hand another man a chance at the life that he wanted. 

But it was too late. As always with Arthur. (Everything was always too little; too late) Providing for others was embedded deeply in his being. It was something he had done for years, especially when he decided to get his shit together. He might have dallied, thoroughly enjoying his youth. But he learned (through several extremely painful lessons) why it was important that he pick up the slack. Loyalty isn’t represented by inaction. He hadn’t been all too kind to people but he had kept his comfort that in some part, his work was what kept that camp running. And when that fell apart; he really did try to help the less fortunate.

Really, he was making up for his failures to the people he cared about most. Arthur questioned if he had cared enough. If he did, maybe things would have ended differently between him and the people he harmed by being selfish.

Maybe Dutch put some modicum of power in his hands and Arthur had wielded it badly, went around acting like the cesspool he felt like most of the time. But at the end of the day, the camp ate because of him, they had medicine because of him, hell, they even drank because it was him that brought back more money than anyone else. 

There is no one who needs him now. Arthur scrubs his hand over his face then down to rub over his shoulders. Leans his head back. At first it was nice. The independence. No more debt collecting for Strauss, no more worrying if there’s enough food for Pearson, no more looking out for O’Driscolls. He thought he would like only having one person to worry about; he had been lying to himself. Although he still had other things missing from him. They’re like phantom limbs. He can feel where they were supposed to be but when he looks down they’re gone. Hosea’s guidance was missing from him. Even if he was terrible at following it. The sound of the girl’s giggling and gossiping. Even Uncle and Swanson ambling around, drunker than he thought was possible. Dutch looming, watching through his haze of maduro sweetened smoke. He keeps looking down but they’re gone.  

The fire crackles and the wind howls; picks up the silence. Sometimes the wind from the flue sounds like the breeze over Flat Iron Lake. The fire doesn’t sound any different than it did when it crackled warmly around a circle of a mismatched band of criminals singing songs together, alongside the chatter and the drunken crooning. When it was the background noise to thick Irish blabbering. The poor kid. He was going places, as most of the younger ones were, he and Lenny would have run that gang when they got past their growing pains. He could have told them that when they were living, that sentiment would have meant something then. 

It’s been a year or two, the days sort of connect like train cars and chug along, not because he wants them to but because that’s how life goes. It’s an endless drag, an endless struggle. He can’t see how this is much better than being dead. Arthur Morgan is one of the few people who knows how precious life can be, he spent a lifetime taking it away from people as he pleased. 

He tries to savor this peace (as if he knows how to). Tries to remember what it was like, not having any time to himself, always at Dutch’s beck and call. Barely any time to take a piss, let alone really rest, really give himself room to be anything but what others wanted. How he loathes those memories. The years he spent dedicating himself to another man's dreams. Watched all those years slip away, ashes in a smoke stack, rising forever upwards until they’re forgotten. 

Arthur refuses to recall how many things he gave up for that life; down to the simple pleasures. Love, privacy, a family. He convinced himself that anything else wasn’t living, that he couldn’t ever be tied down. That old life was just… what he had. There was nowhere else to go and when he was old enough to go his own way, there were kids like him with nothing left; nothing to return to, no one to look after them. He might not have been anyone to look up to. Maybe he was a shining example of what not to be. It was Arthur who was there to keep people in line, to show them how to be killers for Dutch’s aspirations. He’s sure he ruined lives more than he taught them anything useful.

Nothing about that life was rooted in anything real, substantial to the world. Pipe dreams. Vague imaginings of living free in the west or some such tropical paradise. What a waste. Just the thought of a secluded island with palm trees on it summons a bitter laugh. 

He sits and watches the fire. Tries to ignore the shadow in the corner. It's thin and wavering. Today, it looks a bit too much like Hosea for his taste. Especially when the log on the hearth cracks, it sounds like that ominous cough that followed the graying conniver everywhere he went. 

Arthur lights another cigarette. He’s been making (quite frankly, just awful) attempts at rationing and this is his allotted second cigarette of the day. He’s two for five. He curses himself every time he forgets to take the drags and it crumbles to ash too quickly, landing on the rug beneath his boots. He hisses, a singe on his fingers snaps him back to the present moment. It burns his fingers when he forgets that he’s holding one entirely, too busy drilling holes in the walls with his eyes. He can’t stand it but he doesn’t have another choice. The silence has the mysterious property of making Arthur lose track of himself. He should have listened but he never learns. 

This deep into winter, not too far from the base of Mt. Pàtu, he can’t just head out on the road and get more cigarettes. The nearest town is a six or seven hour ride and that isn’t happening, not in this weather. He might take Currant out for a light trot so he can get some exercise but he can tell something big is coming soon. The bellows of air from the west have him readying for storm weather. Best to get a move on now if he were to be going out. 

It’s dinner now. He’s not sure where the time went but he doesn’t mind too much. He’s got coffee and he’s got hot food. Salt pork with potatoes, boiled in the salt water from soaking the corns of salt off the meat. He’s gotten better at cooking at least. Arthur scoffs at the thought of the slop he used to be eating. He takes a glass out and sets it on the counter, along with his fifth bottle of Kentucky bourbon. He’s allowed 6 bottles a month. By anyone else’s standards it might be a lot but where he spent most of his time; around other drunkards and degenerates, it’s not enough. 

The storm hits full force now, there’s gonna be snow all the way up to the porch by tomorrow morning. But the air inside of his cabin is still and smoky. From the window, he checks the stable to see if the doors stay closed. It’s well insulated so Currant should be fine. The storm will have scared most of the game into hiding away, he contemplates when he’ll head back out for hunting. He takes a seat at his plain dining table, spends a while on the same glass of bourbon. The smell of cedar and salt is nice.  So is the warmth of his cabin but it’s all lost to him. His sense for how fortunate he is to be here and not dead in a ditch is dull. Only he could be the man to crave chaos and blood and the sound of gunshots while sitting on his ass all day, sipping bourbon. 

He thinks he’ll read a boring book or pretend to keep busy by stoking the fire. Arthur listens to the silence, waiting to hear something but the crackling and the draft from a small crack in the wall. But there’s nothing. He should have listened to Charles. But he insisted that he would be fine. He can’t go back on that now, he’s always been fine by himself. He’ll just wear the groove into his leather chair even further like the sorry bastard he is, trying to ignore how small and stiflingly warm the room feels.  

The blizzard gets louder and louder. Dozing off on the sofa or in his chair sounds like as good a time as any. But he isn’t exhausted, just annoyingly groggy. Bouncing his knee does not count as activity. Neither does all the fidgeting he does, twitching his fingers, putting his legs up and bringing them back down. He tries to pace a little but wearing treads on the floorboards isn’t doing any good either. He puts his hands on his hips. 

 He grabs his journal but he doesn’t have much to write. What would he write about? Surely, the exciting things he experiences everyday. Waking up feeling like hot shit on a platter after having too much whiskey was not the kind of thing worth memorializing in his journal anymore. He’s a little past the shame now too, the embarrassment. He lets his fingers feel the blank page, the tooth of the paper. 

He lets his hand form images of spring, the point of his pencil worn into a dull tip, recollected as best as possible. It’s nothing but a pale comparison. 

There’s a pat on the door. It’s soft and weak. And just as softly, there’s a voice pleading for help, asking if anyone is inside. A light shining in through the cracks of his world. 

He pushes himself up. He knows he hasn’t had that much to drink tonight. The worst possible outcomes play in his head. A ruse from bounty hunters, a local gang taking advantage (not a whole lot better than he would have done only 3 years ago), or another ghost from his past (the ones that play at the corner of his eye). His chest gets a little tight but he’s been good at keeping unease from holding him back. Arthur shakes his hand out, placing the book on the mantle of the fireplace.

“Who’s out there?” It’s an oddity. To hear another voice. One that isn’t his own. It’s a beautiful noise, a pleasing beckon. But he’s no fool. He doesn’t even particularly want to be here, why would anyone be here if they didn’t have to be? He grabs his revolver from the small table next to the entrance, one of the only loaded guns in the house. “Please, sir, I promise it’s just me,” and the earnestness in that voice, he has to believe that promise is true. He has to open the door. With a deep sigh, he stuffs the gun away after a second thought. 

The figure is much too bundled up to gather any immediate details. She’s not very much, standing there out in the cold icy fluff. It isn’t until he nods his head to direct her does she realize she should probably come in. He peeks out at the tracks, just one long line of horse tracks in the process of getting blown over by the harsh wind and the lashing ice. Her struggle up to the porch marked in snow. Arthur scans the tree line for any of those dark silhouettes but they’ve blown away in the wind, they’re pushed from his mind when he turns back and closes the door shut behind the both of them. 

He turns to her, he doesn’t mind the way she shrinks away from his body, skittish and slight. Such a small girl, alone in a snowstorm. He can’t think of a single good reason why she would be going it alone and what she could possibly need more than a night in. She should be warming her hands next to a fire. He could do it for her, could gather them and breathe on them. He tosses that behind him like an empty tin can. He has other things to focus on, mostly trying to get a better look at her and prying an answer out of her as to why she’s out here like this. 

He’s more rude than he intended to be but a little rudeness is nothing new to him. “What the hell were you doin’ out there?” He has been described as coarse. Intentionally and unintentionally. He’s a little bit like a puffed up rooster when he catches her looking him over, marveling at the size of him. But he lets that fall away, surely she needed no old man assuming things on her part. He knows he ain’t much to look at. At his gruff tone, she has no response. The poor thing is so cold, her teeth chatter, whatever she mustered up to yell at him over the storm has run out. Arthur feels a little of his hard veneer chip away. 

He thinks to take her coat, covered in frost and not nearly as insulated as he had hoped, it’s damp with melting ice now that she’s inside. But he feels like he’s dreaming again, peeling her coat off and hanging it on the rack, a faux gentleman. He doesn't know why he’s trying to impress but there’s a chance that she’d like a man like that. So he plays, pretends. He’s surely done that before.

When her coat is shed, all of those visions he’s been having must have caught up to him. 

Jesus, Morgan. You’ve really lost it now. 

This disease of loneliness he’s been given has surely destroyed the vestiges of his sanity. He must be imagining some young soft handed girl with warm bright eyes and vibrant, shiny hair. Face of an angel, looking hopeful; grateful. Her eyes on him burn like hellfire. He feels strange, watching much too close at how her tongue wets her lips; chapped from the cold. Beautiful; she must be someone’s girl, he hopes for a widow who had lost her husband to the winter frost. He’d gladly pick up where the fucker left off. Pry her from his cold hands. Could just be the loneliness talking. He can’t bring himself to care all that much about it. 

Arthur can feel shame eating away at him, like ants at the corners of a scrap fallen off the table. He could have found himself sick to his stomach not too short a time ago. A girl as young as her and he, an old dog with even older tricks have no business together. He knows it too. But he was done with that crushing feeling of dread that ate away at his very soul some days. He had enough of his life to feel awful about. Blood on the floorboards, forgotten promises, disregarded words of affection. Just these moments, where he can hoard the vision that is this girl to himself after so long of giving pieces of himself away. 

What has that shame ever done but made you worse? 

If there isn’t the will to keep his eyes off the girl then there’s the give in him. Like a levy, it cracks a little, breaks into a million pieces of splintered wood for her. It’s been too long since he’s seen something so pretty. All flesh and blood. No graphite on paper; recollections of the women from his past, no Gem of Beauty cigarette card. She carries the smell of soap and perfumed cotton. He thinks it's geranium scented or another delicate flower crushed to pieces to make her smell like she came from heaven too. It’s a weakness he hadn’t culled. 

This girl of his; she must be something quite real. His wishful daydream would have diverted to more intimate topics by now, and he’d probably imagine a woman he’s at least met before. Deciding if he’d prefer her to be real or a misty figment of his imagination; he can’t make heads nor tails of it. Arthur knows he’d probably end up disappointing a real person more than he could offend a figure cooked up in his mind. He sighs. He turns to the iron stove beside the dining table. There’s still coffee and he can distract himself from his ridiculous train of thought by clumsily pouring it out for her. 

Hopeful bastard.

“You mute, girl? Asked you a question.” He knows she isn't but he wants to hear her talk some more. And maybe if she hears what a brute he makes himself out to be most of the time, she’ll turn her nose up at him the way she’s supposed to. Lots of women have, she wouldn’t be the first warned away by his attitude like a bad smell. He could almost let that temptation win. To change who he is at this moment. If only for the selfish purpose of luring her further into his home. However, he’s too impulsive and his tongue is too practiced at offending. He has words that are about as gentle as a fist to the nose. 

He sets her cup down on the table. Arthur doesn’t wait for her to figure herself out, grabbing another cigarette, swiping them off of the coffee table in front of the fireplace. To hell with the rations. It was a special day after all, a goddamned holiday. He strikes the match on the table, lighting it as she tentatively steps forward. Nearly singes his finger on the match he forgot to put out, wincing and waving it out to put out the flame. 

She’s a pearl, surrounded by the ugly oyster that is the less than stellar home he keeps. Carefully, she steps into his space. Suddenly, he’s hyper aware of every thing she could find awful or garish; his hunting trophies or the weapons or the wall. Or the mess of papers on the desk in the corner. It has him gripping his cigarette a bit too tight. Her face hardly moves in any particular reaction, as if used to him already. A simple neutrality is what takes her as she looks at some of the things over the mantle, then her eyes track over the small hallway, leading to the bedroom and some storage. She’s quick to bring her attention back to him, a soft smile that stuns him graces her face, kicking up some long buried hope of his.

 If there was a woman who should be a lady, it’s her. She sets herself down on the sofa, neatly keeping her hands to herself, reaching for the cup he set out for her. But first checking to see if it wasn’t for him with a nervous flick of her eyes up to his own. He can hardly ignore how it pulls at him. She holds the blue speckled cup on her thigh. 

“No, I…was getting something for my granny…” She explains she couldn’t make it to the doctor in the almost fatal weather outside. He has a humorless laugh. How could anyone send her out for the sake of some old hag; already knocking on death's door? Selfless girl but stupid. Defenseless. Her own mother, too. He supposes he can relate. The man he regarded as his father had been the one to let him down the most.

 It’s always the ones you trust. 

He makes his opinion known to her, maybe he can talk some sense into her. 

“I can imagine. What kinda mother sends a pretty thing like you on a fool's errand? You really thought you was gonna bring your ol’ granny a doctor in this?” He reprimands her, she might need it. 

Little girl gone out by herself. Needs you, don’t she?

What she probably needs is someone to keep her from doing things that risk her life for nothing at all. Doesn’t have to be him but he won’t turn the thought away. Breaking her open on her marriage bed. Such a pretty thing, a distracted smile into her cup of coffee. Lost in a snow drift because no one cared enough to keep her inside. 

And she does nip back. Trying to give a rebuttal but he won’t have it. He knows he’s right, giving his idea of a light hearted joke, his particular brand of poking humor. Heavy handed as always. 

“Your granny probably already kicked the bucket while you were out here, damn near gettin’ yourself killed.” 

 Perhaps insinuating her grandmother was already dead wasn’t the best attempt at familiarizing her with himself, her face tinges with an expression he’s used to seeing. Dutch said he had a sharper tongue than people thought. Hosea said it was too blunt. 

“And if it weren’t for me, well…” she’d be dead. Forgotten somewhere in the snow with a dead horse for company. Such an image should hopefully be sobering for her. It’s a harsh reality but one he would prevent from happening.  His hand comes up to scratch at his brambly jaw. She probably thought his slightly overgrown beard was ugly and unkempt. His fingers raise the delicate rolled cigarette to his lips. A nice calming drag helps his nerves calm down, they quit jumping under his skin every time her eyes pull over him, over his scarred face and his crooked nose and his gnarled hands. She looks like she holds something back. Her tongue, he thinks. He wished she would have just come out and said it. 

But she’s a polite little thing, stifling herself with another drink of the coffee. The satisfaction on her face and the small droop in her shoulders now that she’s warm makes him smile. 

She speaks up with a tremor stuck to her words. “I’m sorry mister,” her nose scrunches a little, doesn’t even know how darling he finds it. “but I don’t think you gave me your name…” 

In a well practiced motion, he leans and ashes his cigarette. It took him a while to remember that he can’t just ash them on the ground anymore. He had floors and a permanent roof now. He tends to get the hang of things at some point. He kicks his legs up on the table, gently so as to not frighten the girl on his sofa, warming herself by his fire, and drinking his coffee. The thoughts tickle that provider’s instinct so deeply embedded in his being. His name, he almost forgets all about that, looking into her pretty eyes, blinking curiously. Right. 

“Arthur. You married?” He never liked small talk too much. Never one for the surface level bullshit people put on. He watches each of her features form into something like a smile but not. Too nerve-y, falls into something else when she presses her lips together, her brows twitch as they pull together and her fingers scrunch in her gloves. 

As if she’d marry you, ain’t exactly the pick of the litter, are ya?

His fingers twitch, squeeze his short nails into the give of his palm. Then why does she call him? So enticing, then, looking at him with soft eyes, her legs pressed together and slanted. A real proper girl. Cute thing. Naive enough not to recognize someone like him at first glance. He’s something to be avoided. He wishes he could see a ring glittering on her finger, to ward away the seething heat in his head and his gut. Like a prayer muttered in the presence of evil but he doubted it’d be strong enough. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” her voice is like velvet, the rub of a rose petal between his fingers. Her eyes flick away and her teeth press gently into her bottom lip, sweet looking. No man to look after her besides her worthless father, left her out here to freeze. Alone, really. Or she might as well be. The world has been known to be cruel to women. To his mother, to a woman whose life he had ruined, to Mary even, to Susan and Molly. Well, most every woman he knew. It wasn’t fair but many things in their lives were disparagingly slanted away from them, scales always uneven. 

“Young lady like you, unwed and caring for your Ma, Pa, all by yourself?” Arthur scoffs, even as he points out her tragedy. “Now that’s just sad, is what it is,” His fingers push his cigarette into the ash tray a bit too hard, twisting it. And he looks at her blouse, drawing the outline of her with his eyes. He’d put it to paper later. She has a small nod for him. A shining opportunity. But he has to introduce his own dingy reality. The one where he was probably old enough to have been able to hold her when she had just been born. 

“You are… a sight, for an old ugly bastard like me is all,” Honest words slip from him, too loose for him to keep them behind his teeth. The bashful look crosses over her face makes his lip curl up just a little. She deserved to have someone tell her how pretty she is, who wouldn’t ever let her forget for a second how lovely she looked. Where all of these sappy things come from is beyond him. They ooze into his mind anyway.

Delicately, she sets the cup down on the table littered with other cups he had forgotten to put away and empty packages of cigarettes. He rolls his eyes at himself, of course he doesn’t clean up the day he has company.

“I left my horse in the stable out front, I hope you don’t mind,” her hands pet at her thighs, he can see where the fabric is damp. Immediately, his mind clicks into place, thinking on how he can fix it. That’s what the fairer sex truly craved, wasn’t it? Not some puffed up egomaniac. A fixer. A solution. His hands itch to move. To pick up the pieces of her problems and push them back into the shape of something whole. “Ain’t no trouble,” the relieved sag in her shoulders tells him that she actually worried about it. 

So Arthur does, he’s nothing if not a man of action. “Why don’t I get you somethin’ dry to wear? Should be turnin’ in soon. Gettin’ late.” He’s up before he can hear a protest. But she doesn’t give much of one. In his bedroom, his hands swipe his hair backwards. The small mirror he usually keeps around strictly for shaving catches the light of the small oil lamp. 

God, his best years are way behind him. So say the lines at the corners of his eyes, the gouges of his age on his forehead and the delicate webbing of wrinkles under his eyes. All of the evidence of his lifestyle glares back at him. There’s a ruddiness over the higher planes of his cheekbones from burning them under the sun. Some of the fist and knife fights from his youth have left permanent evidence of his misgivings on his face. Mostly in the form of scars and his odd nose. 

You disgust her, don’t go kidding yourself. 

If he ever told her the truth of himself, he’s sure a girl like her would go running, suddenly not minding the cold. He never was good at keeping beautiful things by his side. They rotted or wilted, or blew away with the wind. His rough fingers rub at the back of his neck. He stares deep into his own eyes. Trying to force some normalcy, some sense into himself but it’s all in vain. He grunts, paying mind to other things. 

He opens his cabinet, all of the simple clothes he keeps. Something new and not so weathered, or dirty, something clean. Like her. Some nice cotton knit union suit, something he bought when he was preparing for winter. He grips them tight and hesitates at the door. 

Just go n’ give it to her, and try not to be an idiot; for god’s sake. 

And the sweet smile he sees knocks whatever sense he had gathered out of him, he can hardly form a word. He just holds the fabric out to her like an oaf. And she rises, as to keep things comfortable, good at reading his brutish signaling, taking them gently and skirting around him. And then she’s in his bedroom. With a mental cuss, he realizes that he forgot to clean the room before he left. 

Ah, she’ll find out how pathetic you are at some point. Just a matter a’ when… 

All those empty bottles and habits he’s formed from living alone. Dirty clothes piled somewhere and sheets that probably smelled a bit too much like sweat. Christ. He sighs, pinching his nose. He’s not sure why he’s putting so much thought into this. He doesn’t care. Not a care at all. Right…sure.

At first, he distracts himself with preparing food, his leftovers, hopefully enough for her. Doing this is an action which is perhaps a bit selfish. He wants to make it clear that he can give her things she needs. He could figure out wants later.. Typically, he hadn’t thought too much of what women wanted but with her he makes lists, takes out the fine brandy. Sometimes he took after Dutch more than he would like to admit, the man was all too good at forgetting about a woman’s wants and needs.

The food hasn’t gone too cold. His hands look for things to do, stirring unnecessarily. Fumbling the dish he places it on. However, the little comfort he gains from activity fades. He can only grip the counter like a vice while staring out the window above his sink for so long. The shades of brown and orange that make up his cabin blur into nothing, the wood grain isn’t as grounding as he wants it to be. 

But then his legs drift in the opposite direction, He can hear a soft sigh and the rustle of clothing behind the door. He wets his dry throat. Arthur shouldn’t salivate. He does anyway.

You’re a creep. Something in his head laughs at him. 

Been too long since you had a woman this close to your bed and she ain’t even in it with ya…c’mon. C’mon, just open the damn door. 

His heart is about to pound his ribs into dust. He’s among the worst of the worst but this… pushes boundaries. Lines drawn in the sand. Peeping on women wasn’t something he was raised to do. And if he saw something he wasn’t supposed to see, it was an accident. 

You ain’t that bad.

He’s used to letting the tide wash those out so he can draw new ones. And here is a new one. When his fingers push at the door and he can see the sliver where she bares her own flesh. Rubs her hands up her thighs, stepping out of her clothes. His throat goes dry, his teeth bite bluntly at the tip of his tongue as his jaw gets tense. 

His eyes follow the natural plush curve of her body, pale yellow lamp light glancing off of her. He’d kill a man to touch her and he’d kill a man for touching her. Devouring every inch, his eyes soak it all up, dedicating her to memory. 

 And then she’s stepping into the creamy cotton of his clothes. Doing up the buttons at her front. Unbidden by him, his cock fills out, half hard, pressing uncomfortably at just the sight of her. The perfection of her hips, her hair brushing over her back. 

The guilt is chewing a hole in his conscience. It’s like there are termites gnawing away at the foundation of whatever restraint he had. He’s felt less disgusting after killing a man, making him choke on his own blood as it fills his lungs. But the reward had never been so delightful. A sweet girl, so trusting, putting her hand to her chest and smiling as she realizes he’s there. It doesn’t feel good at all, the realization that he’s drooling over her like a mutt. All she has given him is reluctance, nervous glances. She doesn’t touch him or leave her hand to linger. A sweet-as-cream smile is all he has, enough to tide him over. He wants her anyway, needs her to stay. Letting her walk out after this will be next to impossible. 

“You scared me, Mister…” Mister. So polite, an angel delivered unto him. He can feel how his body is tense, tight like a spring. How she doesn’t notice the evidence of his wrongdoing, pressing at the front of his pants is luck or her naivety. His expression must be dazed, a foolish look because all he can do is stare, unable to stop himself. Observing the way his clothes drape over her, exaggerating how much smaller she is in comparison. How stunning she’d look, sprawled over his bed sheets. Precious girl; struggling not to cry when she gets all stretched out on something wholly too big for her. In his mind's eye, she mouths his name, looks at him like all she wants is him inside of her. Right. His name again. 

He dips back into his own ease in which he controls all of himself with. He is self assured and well handled. And he certainly doesn’t curl in on himself. Lets her see how big he is, slips back into old habits with the ease that comes with capability. “Morgan, Arthur Morgan,” his real name, no Kilgore’s or Calahan’s. She should know it anyhow, if he has any real intention in giving it to her.

It’s dangerous and it’s like she can feel it, somewhere in her body is that base instinct. One she was born with to protect herself from people with bad intentions. But she has another instinct, bares her neck to him. Arthur has always been good at suppressing his hunger, desire for soft pretty things. Settling like sediment on them was the control he had, buried them and buried them and buried them. She's a rainstorm, flooding his mind, washing out his carefully maintained resistance. Leaves his want raw and exposed and actionable. He wants her too much, wants her more than he has any right to. 

He feels what little control he has over his urges begin to slip with that thought.  Usually, he let them take over. Let whatever pain and anguish in him manifest into pure rage, cold and unadulterated. At first, it revolted him, his actions. And the reputation he built to go along with them. But they began to grow over him like a second skin until they encased whatever hope he had for a better life completely. His self induced hatred hid whatever pieces of him weren't supposed to be his to have and to share. The things he had to hide from himself even to feel like a whole person at any given moment. And he let himself be that awful thing people thought he was. Arthur Morgan. A force of nature. 

But he deserved it, didn't he? Everyone should keep their distance anyway. He has a habit of making things worse than when he found them. But all he wanted was for her to be close. Sure, he could play the vulnerable man who could pine after his sweetheart, go out riding after her, guide her home where she would forget all about him. Just a kind man out to help the world.

That's not what he wanted. He wanted her to stay here. Can’t bear the thought of being a good man, sending her away when the storm blows over. In sickness and in health, til’ death do us part. That’s what he sees when he closes his eyes. She’s standing in the kitchen, turning the spoils of his hunts into dinner. With that easy smile. His too empty house just wouldn’t feel like a home without her in it. He’s sick, he knows; but he’s sure she can cure him. 

Arthur Morgan has always wanted more than he could have. He chews on the thought like tobacco. Bitter but eventually he begins to need the taste, to crave it. 

“Put somethin’ on the stove for ya, man can’t leave no woman hungry…” God, his tongue feels too thick in his mouth and his jaw aches from gritting his teeth too hard. And of course, he lays all his cards on the table. Man can’t leave his woman hungry.

Every little gesture she makes, wrapping her arms shyly around herself, the gentle tilt of her head and the small affirmative gesture she makes is in no way unordinary. But they’re all dripping with her appeal. How can she smile at him like he doesn't look the way he does? Like he hasn't made the world worse just by existing in it?

 He soils her just by laying greedy eyes on her neck, on her nipples which he can make out through the fabric of his union suit. And when she opens her mouth, he knows he’ll end up calling her what she is. Sweet and syrupy, soothing on his throat. 

“Thank you, Mr. Morgan. I really appreciate your kindness,” Arthur is convinced he heard her wrong. But her honesty is in those radiant eyes, in her easy posture. It must be meant to be, it’s not every day a woman talked to him like that. Or talked to him at all. He was perhaps too busy making sure they knew what they would be getting into; dealing with him. 

It may just be the respectful manners instilled in her. He supposed her parents had given her that; mannerisms that made her quite the catch. Utter perfection. But really, even that was a disservice. They damned her to him. Makes him see glimpses of a life he could have. Hundreds of conversations, every iteration of the precious babe they'd have together with his hair and her eyes, a son or a daughter. Two of each perhaps. Hours and hours of her gentle, refined voice taking up the empty room. He bows his head as if he can keep his disbelief and joy under the brim of his hat, currently hanging by his front door. 

She comes nearer. He can smell her cotton scent, can see the way the light casts around her hair, feathering over her, turning it into gold. His body moves to make the smallest space for her. Hoping she’ll nudge against him. He doesn’t even realize the way he’s formed himself to keep her here for just a moment. So close, Arthur nearly loses track of what he was supposed to be doing.  

“Been a long time since somebody called me a kind man, usually it was the opposite,” apprehension floods her body, her features. Her eyes focus on him, waiting for something terrible to happen. Arthur sees how she bristles. He only meant to be honest but she’s already read between his lines. Smart girl. 

He shows her just what he means. Even when he knows better, even if he’s never been this far. It’s like he has to touch though. No where uncomfortable, just to be sure she isn’t a sign that he’s truly gone from this world. 

“Please, I-” 

Her plea goes down his spine. It rakes its teeth over the parts of him that are wrong. That weren’t formed with gentleness, aren’t intricate. Just instinct that he’s indulged. 

He may not be a good man. But he can behave well enough to keep her. Now that he has the room for her. He doesn’t live in a drafty tent. He’s not a dog chained to the hand that fed him too many years ago. He would never treat her like an object to display or a mistake made in a drunken night of pleasure. He wouldn’t throw this away, this one chance at having something real. Wouldn’t lay waste to this opportunity to fill a hole in him that yawned empty for what felt like eternity. She’d be his wife and he; her man. A husband. Mister and Missus Arthur Morgan. A crock of shit, he would have said a month ago.

That ain’t the hand you been dealt and you know it. You’ve made a mess of things enough.

 But now… it's a dreamy reality. It hasn’t quite taken shape but he can get it there. Determination starts to crystallize over the idea. She’s something good; doesn’t need him. He could try to make something better too, could make the best of a situation, try to show her the best in him. But he knows it’d never be enough for her. He always throws these good things away, always ruins it somehow. But he grips and shakes like a mutt at this idea, gnaws it until it's raw. He can just take what he wants. Done that before, hasn’t he?

Just leave’er alone. God, you never learn, goddamned fool…

His fingers graze over the skin on her neck, uncovered by the collar of the union suit he lent her. Here in the dark of the small hallway, he can swear there’s something in the way she breathes, shudders. “I think you need a man to take care of you, honey, need a man to keep you inside- wouldn’t let you go out alone like this if you was my woman… Lemme show you how a man looks after a girl like you,” He’s aware that he sounds like a right bastard but he’s only telling the truth. His hand settles at her back, like it’s supposed to be there. They’re meant to be, all he has to do is show her. 

ok yall how we feeling LMAO i think his perspective was interesting and fun for me to write but idk if its any good, but i hope with practice ill get more confident 🥹🥹 bro is a freak sooo yeah it was fun to write him as a freak he is very conflicted about everything and he is super weird but also sexy sooo😳 i hope you guys enjoyed this lil backstory on why arthur is a weirdo 😊😊😭😭 lmk what you guys think !!

[distant-velleity]

LMAO i lied im answering all these at once. woohoo!

(warning for VERY unreliable narration in certain questions)

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

“That’s kind of personal, isn’t it? Well, good thing you asked me, the most normal person here. Kidding, kidding.”

Yuhua lives with his parents right now. His sister, an alumnus of the school, is away at university. They are a perfectly happy family. There is nothing wrong. Nothing. 

(Yuhua lives with an emotionally manipulative mother and conservative father, and returns to a dysfunctional household that is filled with silence, phone calls, or arguments every day. Of course, he would never admit any of this to anyone but his friends, and even then nothing more than a slight hint or complaint that tells nothing of the bigger picture. Yuhua himself is not in the best mental state as a result, due to placing pressure on himself to perform well so his parents don’t get on his case, and he maintains a thin thread of control on his demeanor.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

“She looks kind of lonely… I feel bad. No wonder she’s so into… Oops! That’s not my thing to tell. But I do think she could benefit from some friends.”

The quote is probably self-explanatory of what he thinks (assuming he hasn’t caught her doing anything suspicious, and has only ever seen her pretend to fawn over Azul). He recognizes that she’s always alone, but he’s also like. World’s worst introvert trying to masquerade as world’s worst extrovert, so… he hasn’t (yet) taken any steps to make the first move and interact with her. It probably doesn’t help that it looks like neither of them bother with more than small talk with others.

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

“That guy? …Doesn’t it seem like he’s suddenly got a lot of admirers nowadays? I mean, I can see the appeal—hardworking, intelligent… But I don’t think I could ever date anyone on the student council. Guess those guys can shoot their shots if they want.”

If you couldn’t tell from the quote, he… thinks middlingly of Azul, and has like 0 romantic interest in him at all lol. Of course, Yuhua respects anyone with good grades and good conduct, of which Azul meets all the criteria, but that’s it. I wouldn’t say he ever met Azul so much as he’s heard of him (what with being in the same year and Azul being on the student council), and seen him around. 

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

About Floyd:

“...That guy. There’s no point in associating myself with him.”

(if this is okay) They’ve been in the same class for two years in a row now, purely by chance. Yuhua knows him as the careless, genius lackey of Azul. His disorderly and sometimes disrespectful conduct only grates Yuhua when there’s something that needs to be done, but otherwise Yuhua would be content to let him live his life and let their paths never cross. Even that one time he went into the gym after club activities to practice his lines and saw Floyd practicing his basketball skills non-stop—Even when Floyd puts in the work to pass a test almost effortlessly, then decides the next one isn’t worth the nonexistent effort—Even when Floyd is free to do whatever he wants, his actions and comments constantly broadening Yuhua’s restricted worldview—Even… when…

…even when Yuhua’s nursing something of a hopeless, helpless crush on him. And that’s it. It’s no fairytale love, it’s no novel-worthy romance. It’ll never take flight—Yuhua will take this secret with him to the grave because of that. He knows he’s not enough to catch and keep Floyd’s attention; at most he’s just a classmate who Floyd thinks it’s funny to talk to and annoy sometimes because he tries to look like a goody-two-shoes in a less angry way than Riddle.

“It’s not a crush, because I won’t get that crushing disappointment when he finds out and is disgusted by my very existence.”

About Vizzie ( @twistedwonderlandshenanigans ):

“...She’s got a good heart.”

They’re… friends. Acquaintances. Something. Does he really know how to define it? Now that Vizzie doesn’t care as much about her grades and Yuhua’s just went on to prioritize himself, or something, what was probably a friendship has… not stayed a friendship. He goes on with his reputation-building act, while she does her own thing. Yeah. Yeah—He’s fine with it. It’s what they both want, and he’s not going to interfere with her choices. It’s fine. Right? (He doesn’t want to think about it.)

It definitely doesn’t bother him that now that she’s “fallen off” and protected herself with a poor reputation, she seems… more free. It ABSOLUTELY does not bother him that she’s such easy “friends” with Floyd. It doesn’t bother him that unlike with Floyd, everything about Vizzie’s day-to-day existence and circumstances proves that something is inherently wrong with Yuhua himself. It doesn’t bother him that her everything proves that everything about him, from personality to looks to grades, is inferior and unlikeable. It doesn’t bother him that, because she’s so closed-off now, the unspoken truth is that he wasn’t enough for something like an actual friendship. It. Doesn’t. Bother. Him. 

About Riddle:

“...Oh, that guy.”

Sure, he can respect someone like Riddle. Someone who’s at the top of their class, is on the student council—Yeah, sure, whatever. It’s because of people like him that Yuhua doesn’t try too hard, anyway. It just isn’t fun. It’s not worth his time, to be constantly outclassed. And his attitude, too—part of the reason Yuhua would never run for student council. If he was aware of Riddle’s situation, he’d be more sympathetic, but as things are he just can’t quite stand Riddle’s attitude. 

Let overachievers have their fun, is Yuhua’s opinion. He’s fine to be a middling fish in a small pond while people like Riddle try to be big fish. They’re fellow second-years, but that doesn’t mean they have to care about each other. They probably don’t interact much on a meaningful level because of Riddle’s duties and Yuhua’s opinions, and if they do—it’s Yuhua being polite and saying all the things Riddle wants to hear.

(if you’re willing to establish OC dynamics, let me know and I can add Yuhua’s thoughts here! I just don’t like to add/conceptualize dynamics with canon characters because I’m scared of stepping on toes abkjsdkfgjskfd)

5. What grade/year is your OC?

“I’m part of the worst year, in case you’re wondering. Hehe. Just kidding.”

Aging him up by just one year for this AU— He’s 17, a second-year. 

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

“Goals? Eh… Passing this year with the best grades I can get.”

He doesn’t have any true goals, and it makes him anxious. His main objective is just… passing the school year, staying on good terms with everyone… That’s it. It’s all very short-term, school-related. He doesn’t have enough faith in himself to actually achieve a long-term life goal.

“As for life? Ask me again in, like… a year.” 

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

“...What? This is ridiculous. Do you just accept any kind of evidence nowadays? …No. Don’t answer that. Sorry. But I know I’m innocent.”

Yuhua is counting on others to vouch for him, both for an alibi and for his character; it’s situations like these that are the reason why he’s so intent on networking and maintaining good relationships with everyone. Knowing that his future and record are on the line, he’s absolutely going to plead his case however he can, trying to argue about the evidence, et cetera…

“Isn’t there anyone else who could have been responsible? In fact…”

If he’s ever caught Quartz doing something suspicious, he’s definitely throwing her under the bus now. If people grill him for not reporting it right away, well…

“I was just—scared at the time, you know? I didn’t know what she was going to do to me if I tattled… I’m really sorry, but what matters is that I’m the one telling the truth now.”

This might be one of the rare situations where people see him genuinely lose the easygoing act.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

“Huh? Pockets? What pockets? I didn’t see anything.”

He’ll turn a blind eye, unless there’s a situation wherein he can actually benefit from reporting her. 

“In any case… It’s not my business right now. Let people do what people want as long as it doesn’t affect me, yeah?”

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

“Come on, don’t ask me questions like that. I’m only ever where I should be.”

Yuhua always goes to class, and always shows up on time. He has people he can’t disappoint, even himself. When he’s not in class, he’s (usually) in the drama club room; before classes start for the day, at lunch, and so on.  

10. How are your OC's grades?

“Passable.”

He gets pretty good grades. I wouldn’t say he’s necessarily competitive, nor at the very top of his class, but he tries to stay above “average.” He’s got a natural edge to memorizing and regurgitating information, so getting good grades isn’t hard for him, but… you know. If he tried a little harder…

(No Yan Sim AU) Questions for OCs! + Quartz and other characters' lore

You don't have to do these if you don't want to! You can write and answer how ever you want (3rd person or as the OC)

These answers are just examples and they also give lore to other TWST characters in the AU

1. Does your OC have parents or family in the AU? If not, what is their current living situation?

Riddle currently lives with his mother. Because of her influence, he is the strictest in the student council (which consists of the dormleaders.)

2. What are their thoughts on Quartz?

[You can yap about it here since I already used Quartz as an example in the fourth question]

3. What is their thoughts and relationship with Azul? How did they meet Azul?

Jade is Azul's right hand man. He assists Azul with a lot of student council work and is mostly by his side with Floyd. They are friends from their middle school days and up to their highschool days (although the three of them won't admit it).

Jade found Azul's hardwork and scheming nature very exciting so he and his brother always stayed by Azul's side to see what fun events would happen.

4. What are their relationships with other characters/OCs?

[They are speaking about Quartz as example]

Floyd: "Who again?"

Floyd doesn't really acknowledge Quartz since she's so quick out of his sights. Genuinely believes there isn't a person named that but is suspicious.

Jade: "Oh, that shy girl? She's a little funny."

Definitely suspicious of Quartz but they don't interact much so he has no other information about her. He probably needs to be more skillful when studying her.

Riddle: "Quartz?.. Uh.. I-I don't recall who that is."

Quartz rarely interacts with Riddle.

Ace: "Ah? You mean that girl who's always so weird? I've seen her watch Azul. Pffftt! Do you think she likes him?"

He notices her sometimes because he thinks her appearance is a little flashy.

Idia: "I-Isn't she one of Azul's admirers?... She's the shy type right? She's a little strange though.. Sometimes she takes photos of me! W-Wait.. Maybe she's into me instead?! EEEKK!! H-HOW SCARY!!"

Completely misunderstands Quartz's actions but he's quick to know how weird her actions are. He stays away from her if Azul isn't present.

5. What grade/year is your OC?

Azul, Jade, and Floyd are all 2nd years (17).

Leona has been held back so he is still 20.

6. What is your OCs goal for the school year or in life?

Quartz wishes to kill Azul 🙏

7. Your OC is being framed for murder of another student by Quartz, how does your OC react to that? Does your OC know it's Quartz?

Floyd is jumping her.

8. Your OC notices Quartz carrying a weapon in her skirt pocket. That's strange since the female school uniforms don't have skirt pockets. Does your OC report this?

Riddle is absolutely reporting that! He's calling the cops and everything 🫡🫡🫡

9. Where is your OC usually with or at during school? Classes? With Azul? Skipping class? Where do they eat lunch?

Quartz is always in class but she'll come right before the bell rings since she was.. busy. She doesn't have a particular place she goes to all the time. She's never in one spot.

Quartz's lunch spot varies because she's always spying but her usual spot is in the courtyard.

Riddle is assigned being a hall monitor so he usually watches the halls when he is able to. He usually eats lunch with Trey and Cater.

Leona is always found napping under trees and skipping his classes. Ruggie manages to find him and give him his lunch from the cafeteria.

Rook is watching you.

10. How are your OC's grades?

Deuce tries, ok. (Awful)

[mysterialistic]

Random thoughts from Yingdu episode 5:

-I’m surprised by how easily Cheng Xiaoshi takes the news that he has powers. I would be freaking out, but my man here thinks he's an anime protagonist—which he is lmao.

-LU GUANG'S PAST CRUMBS. We learned that he does in fact have a family (at least a dad lol) and that they knew about his powers. I could make a thousand theories regarding this, but that’s for another post.

-So that weird scene where Cheng Xiaoshi teleports)? to Yingdu in the post credits scene of episode 1 was him using his powers, which kinda makes sense, except for the fact that Liu Xiao was there too? I have a lot of questions.

-Also, someone should give Lu Guang a price for managing to confess his feelings to his crush without actually doing it lmao. I loved that scene where we finally saw his response to Cheng Xiaoshi after the basketball scene.

-We FINALLY saw the blonde woman (I can’t remember her name, I’m sorry). She’s really smart (apparently has powers), she was bullied and she had some sort of relationship with Cheng Weimin. That’s all we know.

-Cheng Xiaoshi meeting his dad and taking it out on him was so unexpected. I really thought he was gonna end up crying or something, but his dad seems to be really shitty at parenting lol, so it makes sense that he’s mad at him, specially after saying that he basically ran away from his son and responsibilities.

-When Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang loose connection it seems that it’s because LG is tired)? Unless that there was someone else’s power interfering with their connection (like Li Tianchen and Xixi in season 2), probably the blonde girl or CXS's dad.

-Xia Fei knew Cheng Weimin, which could kind of explain why he reacted when he heard his name? It makes me wonder if no one realized that another student survived the fire because he was obviously studying in that school too.

-Cheng Xiaoshi bonding with his KILLER was not on my bingo card lmao.

-Vein asking Cheng Xiaoshi to serve him?? I’m so confused. Is this a red herring and he just wants him to model for him or what does he want?

-Lastly, I’m almost sure this timeline isn’t the season 1 & 2 timeline, it simply wouldn’t make sense. Cheng Xiaoshi kind of knows what happened to his dad, he saw him and all of this experiences they’re living in Yingdu just don’t fit with the current story. It would be so confusing if this is the current timeline, there’s too many changes and little factors that don’t make sense given how CXS acts.

[eeboor]

here comes a long post i’m fucking sorry lmao

a really interesting point was raised the other day about who the better person is (morally): jayce talis or jayce giopara? [insert obligatory admission about the fact that giopara has an annoying personality].

Like, talis is of course nice and kind and wonderful, perhaps a bit naive, but i don’t think we talk about how far he’s willing to go for what he believes. he weaponizes hextech because mel asks him to, and he doesn’t think further. he blatantly ignores viktor’s wishes about destroying the hexcore, even using it on his corpse to reanimate him. he ignores the council and does what he wants, enacting vigilante justice at the cost of innocent lives (including an actual child). he set up the fucking hexgates in such a way that they pollute the water supply of the undercity. and then, when he’s back from his sabbatical in hell, he goes to viktor. he looks him in the eyes, with the weapon he never wanted him to make, and he shoots him. what the actual fuck this guy is unhinged. he doesn’t THINK. he has no sense of consequences—of course if you keep unsecured, highly unstable and explosive materials in your residential apartment, things might blow up in your face (literally!). of course your patron won’t support you—she is beholden to social opinion. of course weapons can never be unmade and are always used. of course using the scary magical dodecahedron your partner begged you to destroy to bring said partner back from the dead will bring him back Different ™️. come on Jayce.

and then giopara. he has no true family, instead is left to the bloodthirsty clans who want him for what he can give them. he’s antisocial. he’s fucking annoying. he’s a diva 💜. he’s impossible to work with but impossible to get rid of because he’s just that smart. he hates politics and only gets into them to appease his investors so he can do what he actually wants. he doesn’t give a fuck about the common people who look up to him so much. he’s alone, alone, alone. and then he’s not. he meets this other brilliant mind, the only one who can keep up with him. i mean how insane would that be? he must have been at least a little obsessed with viktor because of that. then picture jayce, in all his egotistical glory, drunk on life and the belief that he and viktor are the brightest minds alive, when viktor shows him the diver suits. why does he resist? why does he care? no one in his life is telling him to care. he just does. he sees the devices for what they are, or at least what they could be twisted to be, and calls viktor out on it. he doesn’t speak up for viktor when the stanwick thing happens, it’s true, but doubtless he simply expected viktor to wow and amaze with a different project and be happy with the credit from that. and then viktor leaves. and jayce is a one man act again. like always. like forever and always. jayce acts wrongly, it’s true, when it comes to viktor and destroying his lab and accidentally killing those people, but he saw what he thought was evil and he went for it. no thought of what he could lose. no thought of who he could lose.

idk man there’s something about these two. by no means do i think talis is a bad person, in fact i think he’s a fundamentally good one. but he’s just so fucking naive, and towards the end he’s willing to do ANYTHING for what he believes, no matter the grisly consequences. he’s fucking scary. he’s unhinged. giopara on the other hand has a terrible personality, but is completely unwavering in his beliefs no matter the cost to himself or his relationships. viktor asked him to work together again, and he said “get a psyche eval” and slammed the door.