#i should Not have engaged but they kept arguing even after someone who Knows whats up told them no

[imabiscuitinthousandworlds]

the urge to take certain classmates and RIP OFF THEIR STUPID HEADS BESTIE UR HAVING A CATEGORY ONE PISS ON THE POOR MOMENT AND I'M ABOUT TO ATTEMPT TO KUNG POW PENIS YOU IN A CHAT OF NON-TUMBLRITES. SHUT THE HELL UP

[drkmgs]

Unfair

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Warning: mention of two-timing, not loyal, hurt, sad, just painful, torture, beaten, starved, dehydrated, this took too much effort...

"You're being unfair, Wednesday. I have ignored what you have been doing behind my back. Your everyday meeting with Tyler and Xavier? Worst kissing Tyler, while you have a partner who is constantly worried about you, and when were you going to tell me about your engagement? huh?! When?!" You screamed at her, it almost broke your vocal cords. This was the first time you screamed at someone, specifically someone you love.

You couldn't help it. The last month being with Wednesday was torture for you and your heart. Everything came crashing to you this week, her random rendezvous with Tyler and Xavier you have known for a while but didn't confront her about it, and the engagement was just a day ago when your mother asked if you were going to attend.

"What do you want me to do, Y/N? Cancel the engagement? You know I can't do that. Tyler and Xavier were merely my subjects for the investigation. The kiss with Tyler? I didn't regret it, because it lead me to solve the mystery." Wednesday says with her logical tone.

You could hear your heart shatter at her comment. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You gave her everything, but in return, that's all she had for you? She didn't even make an effort to cancel her engagement. Did she even love you?

"Tell me, Wednesday Addams. Did you ever love me?! All the sweet things you said to me, were they all lies? Did you just use me for your pleasure? Is that all I am to you? Cause if it is, then we should break whatever we have now and you go on with your engagement." You wiped your tears away and composed back to your confident self.

"As I told you I cannot easily break off the engagement. I need time." Wednesday argued back with ease. "How much time do you possibly need to call off an engagement? What reasons do you need to delay it? If you don't love them you won't make this hesitant decision! If you love me you would have chosen me already, but you don't! You keep procrastinating!" You fire back at her.

There was silence engulfing you both. This was the sign you were waiting for. She didn't love you as much as you love her. You sighed and turned your back to her, you gave her a glance over your shoulder.

"Then I may congratulate you on your engagement, Ms. Wednesday Addams. I wish, we never see each other again." Your tears completely stopped by now and you gave her a thin smile. You left her dorm quickly.

___

After that incident, you completely vanished from Nevermore Academy. Nobody knew where you were, and a lot of students speculated that you dropped out, because of what happened between you and Wednesday.

But that wasn't the case. You had some unfinished business back in your hometown that needed to be done before you graduate from Nevermore. You didn't drop out, Principal Weems put you on temporary leave for future purposes. When you came back, everyone was shocked at your drastic change. You didn't look like how you left. You had bruises, cuts, and healed wounds all over your body and face. It looks like you got ganged up on.

For Wednesday the bruises, cuts, and healed wounds didn't bother her, what bothered her the most is your eyes. They were soulless. They weren't like the ones before, full of life, full of sparkles, and galaxy colors. Now it's pitch black, like the color of a raven. Also, your smile was far gone. This made Wednesday's heart clench as if someone is squeezing the blood out of it.

"What happened to you?" That was her approach to you. "Hello to you too, Addams. or is it a different surname now?" You said, not looking at her. You kept your head low, hiding underneath your hoodie. "Still Addams. Answer my question." Wednesday is very determined to know. "None of your concern." You answered. You head to the office of Principal Weems, and Wednesday still follows you, which irritated you. "Look, Addams. I'm not going to tell you anything even if you follow me into the bathroom. So, stop following me and piss off." You snapped at her. She was about to say something when you turned around and walked off.

Soft knocks got the Principal out of her thoughts. "Come in" was the only thing you heard from the other side. "Oh, Y/N." She stood up as soon as she saw you enter the room. You ran up and hugged her. That's when you broke loose to any emotions you were holding. "It's okay. You did great holding on. You're safe." She soothes you by rubbing your back. Before you left, you did talk to Principal Weems about your family situation and when she lost contact with you, it was her mission to get you back safe and sound, but when she found you, you were already covered in scars and wounds.

Your family is one of the major shareholders of an assassins association, when you learned about this you didn't want to be in it. So, your family and you agreed, before you graduate from Nevermore, you'll have your first and last mission as an assassin in exchange to be set free. To hear that at a young age, it was a perfect deal but when you came to realize it was a way to get rid of you for disgracing the family name, you needed help, that's when you reached out to Principal Weems.

You were tortured, beaten, and nearly starved to death when police raided your family's mansion. They found you shackled on the wall, dehydrated, and lumped. Principal Weems saw the raid go down and couldn't believe how your own family could do this to a such wonderful child.

Now you're in her care and safe back in Nevermore. "I hear from a little bridie Ms. Addams called off an engagement." She whispered as she comforts you. "Is that little bridie as big as a person, has blonde hair with blue/pink highlights?" You snickered. "Hm. Maybe?" She moved out of your hug and looked at you. "Wednesday's mother called. She confirmed it." You looked at her confused, but then you smirked up at her. "Y/N. Don't get cocky. I am still your Principal and I was invited to the engagement party." She shrugged. "I wasn't going to say something, but okay. I don't think it's smart to get back with Wednesday." You say avoiding Principal Weems as she sits back on her swivel chair. "And why is that?" She asked eyeing you as you drift your eyes everywhere but hers. "because who would want a broken me?" You whispered but loud enough for someone to hear who just entered the room.

"Me. I want you. back." Wednesday answered standing behind you and glaring up at you. Principal Weems smiled at the sight. "Ms. Addams, would you show Mx. Y/N their new room? Mx. Y/N, I'll talk to you again after supper." Principal Weems shoo both of you out of her office. "Come with me." Wednesday leads you to your new room. She opened the door and let you in. You looked around to find all of your belongings there.

"Isn't this your Typewriter?" You stopped in front of an extra desk and chair with a black Typewriter. "Yes. I have used this room for writing my novel and it reminds me of you." Wednesday said as she stepped forward towards you. "I apologize. For everything. I wasn't considering your emotions and feelings in the past. When you stormed out of the room, I have come to realize how important you're to me. I searched for you the next day, but you were already gone." Wednesday came very close to you. "I have never considered torture as painful but when you left me that torture was unbearable." She continued. "Come back to me, amore mio." her eyes pleading. "I can't. Wednesday. I have been through hell these past months. I can't throw myself into a relationship right now. I'm broken." You say looking into her eyes.

"I'm willing to wait until you're ready, amore mio."

[yjhariani]

Strict Rules

Simon 'Ghost' Riley X F!Reader

Word count: 2300± Warning: Profanity. Summary: Soldiers are not allowed to engage in a relationship, especially if they are assigned the same mission and having different ranks. However, this is about the journey of getting to that point.

A/N: This is an alternative, simplified, one shot version of this thing I'm working on of Ghost and a BSAA sergeant.

The first time you worked together would be on a BOW outbreak in Manchester. It was one of the worst outbreaks in your experience, it was another time you returned without any of your squad members alive. That included a squad of local military led by Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley, who was also the only one alive in his squad.

You fought your ass off trying to stick to the mission of eliminating as many infected as possible. At the time, Ghost was all survival mode. There was a lot of arguing in between the two of you. You had just been ranked up to sergeant and, of course, he played ranks. Too bad you kept insisting that you did not answer to him. Yet he never left you alone.

You fought well together. It was as if the two of you had been fighting on the field together for years. You backed each other up well enough. Too well.

By the end of it, you had a newly found a whole other level of respect for him and the other way around. Too bad, you could not stop thinking about him after that. The way he pulled you back from an upcoming danger, the way he shoved you behind his back, the way he said thank you when you shared your canteen with him, the way you fought together like you were the same person.

The second time you met him was at a friendly event between the British military forces and the BSAA. There were a lot of friendly competitions going on and it just so happened that he was there and, though he was not participating in any of the activities, he was watching. Watching you, to be exact. Watching the way people were looking at you, the way your comrades treated you.

Once, he caught someone talking of you in such an unbecoming manner, he kicked them in the back of their knee and made sure that they were reminded that the BSAA was their guests whom they should treat with respect. Oblivious of this incident, you were out and about being friendly, hoping to find him at some point because you had not and it had been a day.

You ended up finding him at the end of one of the activities. He was taking his leave from the field and you simply cocked your chin at him from across the field, which he responded with a light nod. Without realising what you two were doing, the two of you were walking away from the field, but somewhat getting closer to one another. Eventually, you were walking side by side.

"You're not having fun," you pointed out.

"Says who?" Ghost replied.

"You're not participating," you said.

"Too many people," Ghost stated.

"You're here anyway," you shrugged.

"Yeah, I'm haunting in the audience," Ghost casually said.

"Brother, tug of war is next, if you're there, the British Army is definitely going to beat the shit out of the Royal Air Force," you said.

"I don't give two shits about this fucking event," Ghost sighed.

"You're here anyway," you opened your hands.

"I'm here to see you, little twat, face plant in the muck," Ghost said. "So far, you're disappointing."

"Because I do really fucking well?" you questioned.

"Too well for my liking," Ghost nodded. "Mess up next time, it will entertain me."

"Oh, come on, Ghost, I know you're better than some guy who just see me as a piece of entertainment," you replied.

"When you're knocked out and ripped apart, maybe you'll be two pieces of entertainment," Ghost said.

"You're funnier in full uniform," you stated.

"So are you," Ghost said.

You laughed at that anyway.

After that interaction, Ghost was not seen for the rest of the event. He was gone. At least to your knowledge.

The next time you saw each other was in a way, way casual way to put it simply. It was a few days after that friendly event between British military forces and the BSAA. It was late. You were on your way back from picking up a cake for someone's birthday in the BSAA headquarters in England. It was after sundown, quite late, and you were by yourself.

You almost arrived at your car when you were stopped by a group of people who came out as quite hostile. Four of them, one of them seemed to be drunk. Another one of them was flashing you that they had a knife. You were not really in the mood to deal with this right now, especially while protecting a carefully decorated cake.

After insulting you and delivering a bunch of demeaning words, one of the people in that group started approaching you. You stood still until he was close enough and was reaching his hand towards your face. Reacting to that, with your free hand, you smacked his hand away, elbowing him on the chin, and kicking him back until he fell on his ass.

Surprised, the remaining three started taking position, translating the situation as an invitation for a fist fight.

"You better run, mate," an uncanny voice said from behind you. "Because it looks like she's going real bloody easy on your friend there."

It was quite embarrassing how you recognised who the voice belonged to so quickly. Maybe it was how you keep replaying whatever conversation you had with him.

"She'll cut through all of you as easily as she's going to cut through that cake," the voice continued.

"Or else what?" the one with the knife asked.

"Or else I'll stand beside her and increase your chances of getting into the hospital," the person behind you said.

With a lot of shame in their faces, the group moved on. The man behind you now stood next to you.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

You were starting to turn to face him when you noticed that he was not wearing his mask. That itself startled you and you ended up stepping away from him.

"You don't have your mask on, Ghost," you pointed out.

"You mistook me for someone, lass?" he replied.

Scrunching your eyebrows in confusion, you dared looking at the man. He was looking at you, calm and cautious. You were almost convinced that he was not who you think he was, but you recognised those eyes anywhere. Then, you were stuck looking at all that was around his eyes.

It was hard not to look at his face. Handsome, a little bit of concern was painted on his eyebrows. Stoic. Lazy eyes. The kind of face that made you blush just by looking at it.

"Now, you've made me look at your face," you disappointedly said.

"I don't think—"

"Simon," you sighed.

He did not respond to that.

"Don't tell me you're not yourself," you said.

"Fine," he replied.

"Thank you. For that and for telling those guys off," you said. "And why are you not wearing your mask?"

"I'm on vacation," Simon said.

"I thought you'd still be wearing it anyway," you said.

"Attracts too much attention," he replied.

"And that is not attracting too much attention?" you gestured at his face.

"Something on my face?" Simon asked.

You were actively looking for something on his face. Then, he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Just… a lot of charm," you answered finally.

Exhaling, the man looked around the area. He ended up looking back at you.

"Well, go on, then," he said.

"Do you want a ride?" you offered.

"No," Simon said.

"Seriously, it's alright," you continued.

"I'm good," Simon insisted. "Though, it's a surprise to see you here."

"Same," you nodded.

A moment passed when you were only looking at him and he was looking back at you.

"How long you'll be staying here?" Simon asked.

"Just until the weekend," you answered.

"Until the weekend," Simon repeated.

There was a pause.

"You're free tomorrow?" Simon asked.

"Yeah," you answered. "Why?"

"What say you we meet here again? Same time?" Simon suggested.

"You're taking me somewhere?" you asked.

"Maybe," Simon answered.

"Alright," you agreed.

"Get a cab tomorrow. I'm driving," Simon added. "Don't eat beforehand."

"Alright," you said, lightly chuckling.

With that, you walked on to your car. Simon was still close. He opened the door for you, making sure that you were wearing your seat belt before sending you off.

So, the following night, you did as requested. Quite excited for it, actually. Dressed up for it even. Nothing much, just something casual.

When you arrived at the agreed spot, Simon was leaning on a parked motorbike, a cigarette in between his lips. When he saw you, he moved the cigarette from between his lips to between his fingers. A cloud of smoke bubbled out of his mouth. Without saying anything, he tossed you a helmet.

Neither of you were communicating with each other verbally for the first half an hour or so. After disposing of his cigarette, Simon gestured at you to get onto the bike. You waited until he was on it properly with helmet on before getting on it behind him and putting the helmet on.

Soon enough, Simon started driving. He was driving very carefully. You ended up in a twenty four hour restaurant. Once inside, Simon sat you down.

You had dinner. You spent quite a few hours there. Sometimes you did not talk for a few moments at once. When you did, mostly you ended the brief conversation laughing together. Well, you were laughing, he was not showing more than just an amused smile every now and again. There was not a change in his eyes, though.

Was that how he always was behind the mask? If so, it was nice to see him without it. How many people had seen that face? Few. Even fewer who had seen the polite, shy smile.

It was clear that by the end of the night, you were enjoying each other's company so much that you did not return to the barracks. Instead, you went with him to his place. A humble flat that was meant to be resided by one person.

Who knew someone of such stature could be so light handed if needed? Also for someone with a certain horrifying reputation, he was gentle and careful. He was making sure that you were comfortable and comforted on your stay.

The next morning, before leaving his flat to deliver you back to the HQ, Simon handed you his phone with numberpads displayed on his screen. Without saying anything, you did the same to him before inputting your number into his phone. Since then, you were staying in contact. To put it lightly.

Mostly, every now and again, Simon would text you a city and a country. London, UK. Manchester, UK. Verdansk, Kastovia. You would reply similarly and would text him the same thing should you get moved from one place to another for BSAA business. Lanshiang, China. Bali, Indonesia. Louisiana, USA. Eastern Slav Republic. Et cetera, et cetera.

If it so happened that you were within driving distance, you would meet in the middle and spend the night together. It was hard to say that it was fortunate that you had not been sharing objectives. At this rate, you were not sure if you were to be put in the same mission that the two of you could be acting professionally.

Then, today, you received a message from him.

Al Mazrah, Adal.

Instead of excitement, you texted him back the exact same thing with a heavy heart.

Before there was any further discussion between the two of you, you were presented a case by your supervisor. It was of a terrorist organisation leader who happened to be responsible for the latest outbreaks happening all over the US. There was also a brief file about a task force called 141. That would be where you see his name.

That was what you needed to conclude the thing you worried about. Before you could proceed, you heard someone addressed you by Sergeant L/N.

Again, you recognised the voice in a snap of a finger. So, turning to him, you gave him a flat smile. He was in full uniform, a brand new skull mask.

"Are you the officer in this mission?" you asked.

"Excuse me?" Simon replied.

"I saw two sergeants, a lieutenant, and a captain here. Seeing that the captain isn't the one addressing me right now, I'm guessing you're in charge?" you explained.

He took a moment before answering, "Tonight, yes."

"Then, I should not be in this case," you said.

"Why?" Simon asked.

"Because this," you gestured at the two of you, but realising immediately that the two of you never really discussed anything about your relationship.

Embarrassed, you looked down, stepping back from him. You really should not have said that last thing.

"You're saying we're against the rule, love?" Simon concluded.

He had only addressed you as such a handful of times and it was unfair the way he made you feel. It might be the voice and the accent, but also the tone and how he said it.

"Yeah," you said, looking back at him.

For a moment, he was only looking at you.

"Right," Simon said.

That was surprising.

"Yeah," now you said that disappointedly. "I mean, I could—I could argue that we're in different forces and that won't be a problem, but I have to answer to you in this mission and that's against the rule."

"So, what, you want to get transferred?" Simon proceeded. "I'll be this honest, Y/N, you're one of the best SOU in the BSAA and we could use your talent. Would be a shame to lose a soldier as good as you over several stupid strict rules. This is a matter of international security after all."

"You're the superior officer, what do you say?" you asked,

"You stay. We keep things professional. Make sure that no one knows that you're my girlfriend," Simon answered.

Your smile just bloomed out of nowhere.

"I'm your girlfriend?" you asked.

"You are. If I'm out of the uniform," Simon nodded.

"Fair," you nodded.

"We have a deal, then," Simon concluded, stretching out a hand.

"Yes, sir," you confirmed, shaking his hand.

"Alright. Let's do it over," Simon sighed before announcing, "Welcome to the task force, Sergeant L/N!"

"Thank you, sir. The helo stopped whirring some time ago, you don't need to yell," you replied.

[ijumpbridges]

Hi! Can i request Dr. Clef with a non-binary reader who can see ghosts?

(keep up the good work ;3)

Dr. Clef with a non-binary reader who can see ghost

A lgbtq+ request? Kiss me WHO SAID THAT

Edit: im really sorry this didn’t came out sooner that pass three days i got caught up in a trip 😭

•••

You work at the foundation in the forensic science division.

Dr. Clef was assigned to you for a new Scp case he was working on.

He was glad to know that he was going to work with his spouse.

In this case you were going to get the results of dead of D-classes and the cause of it and the effects of their death and how the scp was involve in this situation and more.

This meant that you might encounter the spirits of the dead d-classes on your lab with Clef in there.

You had confess this to him a long time ago when you two started dating and he also told you he can do that too.

The thing is Clef has a third eye he can also see ghost, but he can rather control it when to see ghost, but you cant.

The foundation has so many dead people wondering around that you don’t even have a clue if they are real people or not.

This had cause some issues on your end with the foundation making an investigation on you because they suspected you suffering from schizophrenia.

Thankfully it was dismissed but they kept an eye on you for it. Clef also knew this and he helped you out, he said that you should try making physical contact even if you hated it, at least ghost weren’t physically real and prevented you from knowing who is real or not.

You always prevented on making conversation or engaging with ghosts but sometimes they would get so bold, that it was crazy.

Like one time you gave Clef a kiss on the hallway and someone said the F-slur and that made you turn to look at them and awkwardly laugh.

Clef notice it and asks you about it, opening his third eye to see the person and why were you laughing like that, after you told him he scared the person away or send them away.

Remember he said he was satan? Well he can send and bring spirits back from the spiritual realm.

Another incident is when you were going to the bathroom, someone followed you to one of the gender neutral bathrooms, and the went inside of the toilet area with you.

You call that out because what the in the absolutely f were they thinking, feeling so uncomfortable you left the bathroom and decide to go another time.

•••

“Do you mind?” You said turning around in disgust at the person behind you devide to transpass the door to look at you pee.

“What are you?” She asked.

“None of your business, get out!” You yelled, and she laughed. She knew you couldn’t do anything against her, so you have to leave.

At 3:55 pm you went back to the bathroom, while you both were in there he opened his third eye and had already knew someone was up the moment that weird woman started following you both, but kept acting like he didn’t know anything.

He sat down on the sink while you went in, the ghost woman came in and the moment she got close to the stall he got in the way. He made sure she knew that he could see her, and made a ‘no’ movement with his head while smiling.

The woman smile and tried trespass him, but something was wrong, when she tried she bumped into him, it was weird. Her smile faded away. She attempted many times, but it was useless.

Clef decide to use his powers to send them away, since he is satan and he can send them to limbo. You notice because of the scream and the change of reality becoming dark and smoke coming inside. You didn’t care much, and came out with everything being normal. You smile and wen up to hin and gave him a kiss, telling him that you love him.

•••

Clef always kept you safe from them and you love him so much for it.

You know what he does too?

Once you tried arguing with a ghost around and he took a video of you, with the snapchat captions saying ‘Look at my poor spouse, they are having another schizo attack again, talking to walls 😔’

He posts it and you got called down again, this time they had to get him to say that it was a joke, and when he was supposed to he never came he only came down they foundation try to kick you out.

At least he told them that it was you arguing with him.

Clef can also do astro traveling, to visit you at night trying to scare you at night or just to touch you or lay down next to you.

Which is weird, but at least he does help you to get other evil spirits who tried to hurt you.

He is an asshole but at least he loves you and will help you.

[septembersghost]

Priscilla just said on Navarone’s IG live that the Priscilla movie is better than the 80’s Elvis and Me TV movie and that Sophia did a really nice job 🤔

on the one hand, what else is she going to say? she'd never denounce it outright, she's a producer (and i've heard nothing but horror stories about that movie from the 80s 😭 so i would imagine anything would be an improvement! and this will be very streamlined in comparison to that mess too). and on the other hand, if she's satisfied, it's her story, whether anyone wants to engage with that or not, so she has the right to her opinion and support of it.

my issue at the moment is there's absolutely no way to win in this because of the utter lack of nuance or comprehension happening in the conversation, this movie will be used as a weapon no matter what and that...is exhausting and saddening and disrespectful to everyone involved. idk.

that said, to my other anon who mentioned this and the dubious "docuseries" (lol, again, alanna n*sh, currie, and suzanne are all liars and trash, much like the wests and the stanleys and countless other hangers-on and questionable people, there is really no reason to give them air or brain space), people have been trying to tear him down and "cancel" him literally since he first came on the scene in the 50s. the puritanical, and frankly hysterical (and we could unpack the multiple motives for this from the press, from classism to repression to censorship even to latent racism and fear), damaging reactions to him have always swirled and been magnified way out of proportion, it shadowed his entire life, it bled across the edges of his death (where it also became shaming and ableism), it's persisted in chimeric forms in every decade, for whoever wanted to twist him, for whoever wanted to misuse him as a mirror for society's seeming erosion and perceived sins. it's a distortion. we can't change these malformed opinions, but why should we listen to them? they're so irrelevant to why he matters to us.

notice how none of that has ever stuck nor stopped people from loving him nor dimmed his light and voice. we could argue in circles forever about his flaws and mistakes, his temper, his misjudgments, but what is ultimately the POINT?! why do that? to him, to ourselves? what could possibly come of that that's worth anything? it's not a fulfilling use of time or energy, and he wouldn't even want us fighting those battles (he knew he wasn't perfect, but a lot of these things are topics he wouldn't have wanted fans endlessly arguing about at all). he doesn't get the opportunity to tell his story in his own words, so we've become keepers of that flame in many ways. the good he gave then and still gives us now is what lasts.

i know cilla's book is hotly debated, i know it's difficult, i know she's mentioned that some things she wishes she had stated differently or explained better, she's spent 38 years post-publication continuing to give talks about him and do legacy work, and while she's not perfect either and has made her own missteps (please remember these are complicated human beings!), i don't believe someone intent on ruining him (??? she always notes how dearly they loved each other), or on exploiting him only for money (even apart from graceland and the estate, she's been at the forefront of preserving and championing his music and his artistic gifts many times), would've kept her life wrapped up in this the way she has. that doesn't mean anyone is obligated to like her or to like this project, but the rancid hatred being directed from both sides is absurd (the E haters in this are truly unhinged and don't know what the hell they're talking about, and they are NOT priscilla fans! they're invalidating her own words and life! they're just transparent, uninformed losers brandishing pitchforks because they can). it's undermining to both of them and dismissive of the bond they continued to share even after their divorce. i don't always agree with her (i don't agree with him on everything! i could also talk extensively about a lot of underlying issues i feel were constantly going on with him, and he needed far better treatment and support than what he had, or what even existed at the time, but that's a separate conversation. both illness and trauma have adverse effects).

ultimately, the people who want to cast him as the devil will do so because they always have, because they've never listened to a damn thing about the person he actually was and the heart he actually had, his compassion, his generosity, his insights and kindnesses. but whatever anyone thinks of priscilla, i feel like it should be remembered she closed that book as follows:

[takaraphoenix]

I know the last thing you should do with bigots is to engage with them. I know that, nothing comes from it.

But I have to admit morbid curiosity at just how far this individual would bend over backward to deny the truth. I’ve come to the conclusion that they must live in a whole different parallel world.

Highlights of this conversation:

claims of not easily being grossed out after the act of consensual sex between two off-age partners in a committed relationship grossed them out (this kickstarted this conversation, fyi)

somehow mixing up and combining atheism, paganism, patriotism and capitalism into one concept of “atheistic paganism”

calling pagan gods “not remotely good” and condemning paganism (which just seems... baffling, considering we’re having a conversation about THEIR god condemning people who have sex before marriage or who simply exist as homosexuals to eternal damnation. Sure, sure, the pagan gods are the evil ones here)

“homophobes do not exist”, based on their narrow definition of the semantics of the word, completely denying the actual concept it refers to

based on the semantics: homophobes have “a solid PTSD-level terror”, so naturally they would never seek out that which they fear

“someone with a phobia about running across homosexuals; why then would such a person even willingly encounter people dealing with same-sex attraction, pray tell?”

saying acts of violence against gays are “forbidden, rightfully so” while in the same sentence saying that voting “against same-sex lifestyles is a Totally different matter altogether“ and lacking the braincells to connect these two dots

still lacking the braincells after I connected the dots of voting against same-sex will restrict and take away rights, inevitably leading to acts of violence against this group of people no longer being forbidden and, ultimately, being incited by the law. I explained this. With the very universally known example of WWII and concentration camps

“they have PTSD about you, but they then seek you out? Come on! None of that makes any sense, really at all!“ they really got hung up on this lil definition of homophobes that they made up in their lil brain

"First of all, homosexuality was openly *supported* by the Nazis“, this is where I reached my limit, btw

“In fact, Trump's supporters are the Good guys at that, as history has proven abundantly.”, a paragraph down from limit reached

"your whole stance is utter nonsense; as the strong need not fear the weak, nor do they“, yeah no this isn’t even a fun thought experiment on how your weird brain works anymore since you just flat out refuse to understand what oppression is and how it works

“the Nazis were really extreme left-wing“ final but FAVORITE line of this whole conversation. The embodiment of the radical right is actually extreme left. For sure, since this whole conversation was very upside down

This was easily the most repulsive conversation I’ve ever had. And, again, I know arguing with bigots is pointless, I never expected to come out of this having converted them or anything, but to actually read the levels of denial of the real world, of real oppression, hate-crimes and the existence of... of just other view points, quite honestly - since they kept claiming “objective reality” over the “fact” that homosexuality is wrong - was... mindblowing.

Nothing makes me feel more like taking a shower, not just or my body but for my soul, than talking to someone who’ll try and act like oppression doesn’t exist.

[petalsmooth]

I’ve watched both seasons of Bridgerton several times and while I like the actress I find I’ll never like Marina. She’s sort of in the Cressida camp for me. The actress is doing what they should with their material and there are time’s I can have empathy but overall they aren’t very likeable.

When Cressida confronts Daphne about the Prince you can sort of feel her desperation. For a moment I feel bad for her and it really wasn’t nice what Daphne did. She experienced that desperation with Nigel and options limited and knows what is thought of women who don’t match. She did that to another woman then ultimately had the man she wanted while Cressida is still smarting over it in season two at the Featherington ball.

I still don’t like Cressida however. She isn’t a kind person. If she WERE she might be married by now to someone.

Same thing with Marina. I did NOT like when Portia was physically abusive in slapping her, I certainly can have empathy for the desperation that had her taking herbs that almost killed her trying to rid herself of a baby that society will not support. I certainly do not enjoy old lechers with someone else’s teeth viewing HER teeth as she is cattle and I can even understand wanting to marry someone younger if she must. 

But I don’t like her.

Penelope was the only one in that house that was kind to her and when she asked Marina only not to choose Colin and not to manipulate or trick him into marriage Marina responded by belittling her. Telling her he doesn’t see her as a woman but he does Marina. That she will marry him. 

There was no reason to do that to the one person who treated you well. Even if you were set on marrying him you didn’t have to do that. It was deliberately cruel, more so than Cressida had ever been to her. Penelope brought her sweets, looked for George’s letters, kept her entertained, helped disengage her in ballrooms from old suitors, argued with her mother over locking Marina in a room. Penelope wasn’t the bad friend here. She was even the one who found Marina on the floor and screamed for help.

There were other young suitors for Marina that she dismissed as well in favor of making Colin her target. She could have chosen someone else aside from Portia’s offerings. Apart from Daphne she was the most sought after debutante that year.

Then when Sir Phillip comes and she has a more honest proposal of convenience with a younger good man, she treats him coldly. I understand it wasn’t what she wishes to happen, to marry George’s brother...but it was infinitely better than all the other schemes she had participated in.

Then you see her in season 2 and she’s treating Phillip’s interests dismissively which I’m pretty sure would have done with Colin if they had married and she didn’t have to put on an act anymore. She feigned interest (barely) in the idea of travel even at the engagement dinner.

TBH the only people I ever got the impression she cared about were George (who died), their children....and LONG overdue...Penelope. And that I think only developed because she belatedly realized Penelope had tried to be a friend to her....HAD been her friend. Which is why I think she directed Colin to seek her out. Too little, too late though.

And yes Penelope exposed her situation to the ton but only after trying everything else she could do to warn Colin he was being manipulated and warn Marina from deceiving him. Exposing Marina meant putting HERSELF and her family in disgrace too and if not for Daphne might have stayed that way. So it’s not as if came with no price for her. Ultimately, although Penelope couldn’t have predicted it, it led to the best solution for her in marrying Phillip. Not the best solution for Phillip though....he’s the one I actually have empathy for. 

Paying the price for his brother’s behavior and Marina doesn’t even appreciate how honorable he is. Because let’s be honest. If George had MARRIED Marina, which he should have done given the possible consequences, their society and risks in war, all of this could have been avoided. There would be no scandal in a widowed sister in law being taken care of by the new titled holder of the lands (the younger brother) and they need not have married. Phillip’s the real victim in this imo. I’m undecided on their casting for the role, but in fairness we only saw the actor briefly. but the character himself has been nothing but upright and kind and far more tolerant of Marina’s dismissal than most men...people would be. 

So with these two characters (Marina and Cressida) while I can understand how society directs some of their decisions and empathize with their positions I don’t think it formed their personalities. 

Contrasted with Sienna...now her I loved. Oh, she had chemistry with Anthony  but the characters were toxic together....well, more so that was Anthony’s fault. Just as he was the main toxic figure in season 2.  But this was a woman clearly alone in the world who took her talent and used it to survive. Then because actresses/opera singers are viewed as not respectable for marriage, made her peace with it and chose her own path to happiness or at least contentment. She stood up for herself and ultimately refused to be dragged into Anthony’s emotional roller coaster any longer or his fantasies she could ever be welcomed into his world. She refused to be involved with the deceit Anthony wished her to live with any longer. She said it herself. At least the man she was with now didn’t have any expectations she change for him. It was a transaction where each received something they wanted but no fantasies and no false hopes. I’d actually love to see her again. I know Kate/Anthony fans don’t but it’s not like I am rooting for her to reunite with him. I just like the actress and character. The same way I like Theo even if he’s not a permanent character either. He doesn’t have to be linked with Eloise for me to like him. Just as I wouldn’t mind an Edwina plot as she got shafted as long as she is more like the person at the end and not the one playing the perfect debutante or scorned lover. I’d like to see what that character could develop into freed of the sentiment of being “perfect”. Actually I think she and Penelope would probably be good as friends.

Oh! The other person I really love is Mr Dorsett. TBH I like him as a person far better than Anthony. Don’t get me wrong...I love Anthony because of the actor but the character is very flawed and if this wasn’t fictional I’d definitely wonder why Kate wouldn’t pick Mr Dorsett. A part of me still does. If the show were going to do a triangle that would have been far more compelling because the actress had chemistry with both men, whereas there was none with Edwina and Anthony.

But part of why the Bridgerton’s are entertaining and loved by me is because they are flawed so I love them even if in real life might not pick to direct a friend toward a few of them. lol

[angstics]

i hope anyone who belittles what gerard's made public of his personal relationship with queerness sees this. i think it's important to understand all kinds of queerness, including the ambiguous. tho i dont know how ambiguous gerard is. he consistently goes out of his way to show his connection to nonconforming gender + sexuality, and investment in queer art + culture, and love for queer people.

he explicitly began sharing his interest in gender nonconformity around this time, 2014. he has said that it was awakened by laura jane grace's coming out. she came out in 2012, but ive only seen him mention this in 2015 (hesitant alien tour video) and 2018 (the advocate, which is alllll about this topic). his 01/2014 tweet praising against me!'s transgender dysphoria blues sparked a long conversation on trans rep with trans/nonbinary fans (including mention of when he dressed in feminine clothes pre-my chem (with reply), something he only talked about in 2013 (with replies) and some mcr interviews (2004) (2005)).

and he kept getting shit for it. i just went down the nastiest rabbit hole of (former?) mcr fans circa 2014-15 arguing in horrendous faith against his engagement with queerness. that he did it for attention, without purpose, to hide closeted relationships. that he was Hurting gay kids by "being in the closet". that he was prioritizing allies over queer people. that he was willfully ignorant. that he was appropriating queer culture. i dont want to link full posts for a few reasons (the posts are years-old, they were unhealthy, this isnt a Call Out), but they are not hard to find.

the issue even made it to print when gerard discussed his shelved comic series "all ages", which is the subject of the 2014 trans rep threads (one of the people in the same thread even predicted the push back).

(Kerrang! July 2014)

he got shit for using neutral "they" on laura jane in the 2015 video. she was fine with it. it lead to a nice point of connection.

source (2015)

this was controversial enough he not only asked ljg about it but asked her publicly. and not only did she express neutrality but PREFERENCE for "they" pronouns. AND NOT ONLY DID SHE EXPRESS PREFERENCE BUT GERARD DID TOO! this is an indication of the critics' severe unwillingness to understand queerness outside their own.

there is a push for hegemony in how to be queer and how to treat queer people. as if there is an agreed upon "good" and "bad". this ignores 1. the personal relationships people have with their gender and sexuality, 2. the varied understandings of queerness across education and generation and lifestyle, 3. the unpredictability of emotion, 4. the context including other people, the place, the intent, and 5. the individual capacity for exercising empathy. as if we shouldnt ask questions. as if we should just know by referring to an imaginary handbook. which, oh, turns out to be wrong in this case.

on the flip side, this conversation is a demonstration of what queer understanding should be. asking direct questions, being respectful, connecting to each other. learning new shit (or new ways to express shit) about yourself through others. gerard tweeted he preferred he/they pronouns with no preference 2 days after this interaction.

source (2015)

i should say now that this post isnt about finding evidence. if you take one thing out of this, it's that queerness is more complicated than single experiences. these tweets and interviews mean as much as their content. im collecting them to show a thread of how gerard has publicly identified with gender nonconformity outside of performance art.

there are many reasons why someone would be interested in trans identity and representation. why someone would adopt non-conforming presentation. why someone would express their personal experiences in a vulnerable topic. personally, i dont identify as transgender but ive recently discovered a strong connection to gender nonconformity and agender identity. gerard's interactions with gender queerness is one of the few times ive seen myself reflected, which is maybe why im so invested in this.

if all these diverse developments (and more i didnt include) happened within a year or two, there is a dozen-fold that happened in private throughout his many years. they wouldve been public if they needed to be -- they didnt.

i wanna go back to were this post started.

later, they reiterated this sentiment.

source (2014)

and again. and again.

source (2014)

this was the only part of the ama that carried over onto his twitter. unlike the original ama answer which focused on personal identification, these comments are a celebration of connection, expression, and freedom.

i dont know how the two common conclusions are: "this person is cis -> he shouldnt talk about trans people" or "this person is trans -> his personal identity is the only thing that matters". my theory of purposeful ambiguity as queerness aside, this isnt about gerard. all these public interactions are about trans / gnc / queer fans. as it happened: importance of trans representation in the 2014 all ages threads, sensitivity of trans issues in the 2014 kerrang article, relation to trans fans in the 2014 ama, acceptance of trans people in the 2014-15 hesitant alien shows, respecting trans people in the 2015 laura jane-gerard thread.

connection, expression, and freedom. literally what's more queer than that.

“it was really freeing to be able to talk about gender identity btw”

[cloud-acee]

[ stubborn love ]

exes to lovers. wc: 3217

the chatter that filled the restaurant remained to be the only noise keeping the two of you from being deafened by the silence. it’s been quite a few minutes since your conversation about your universities died down that you went back to cutting and chewing whatever was served on the plates in front of you.

it was awkward as hell.

you couldn’t even tell if he liked you, though you are already sure he's felt you’re not interested at all. it wasn’t even your idea to spend a friday night like this in the first place. it was kevin’s. he was nice enough to set you up on a date, because apparently 5 months is long enough to be sitting around and mopping about an ex.

well you did miss that ex. a lot. you’d really rather spend tonight rewatching ‘your name’ just so you could have an excuse of a sad movie to cry— when you know the true reason for your tears is the person who introduced that movie to you as his favorite.

you went on this date just so kevin could shut up about this dude who, according to him, was a great guy. admittedly, he was. he happened to be impressive too. despite the short conversation you managed to engage in, you found out about how he wanted to live his life after college. but that wasn’t enough to get you hooked. you thought it was grand that he plays golf as a hobby, but it didn’t make your heart melt like it did when a certain someone told you about his song writing hobby.

damn, sunwoo still got you wrapped around his finger. at first you couldn’t figure out why. you were thinking back to your high school exes who you despised immediately after the breakup. you kept wondering why you just cannot find any hatred in you towards sunwoo ‘til you realized it was probably because no one’s at fault for your ending.

you did love him, and sunwoo loved you just as much.

it was the external forces that drove you both vulnerable and sensitive, that it became too much to handle. to be fair, you both were college students working your own part-time jobs. things really did get hellish when you two argue without enough sleep and excessive caffeine intake, plus a pile of paperwork to finish. it wasn’t as easy as it was when you started dating around your senior year in high school. that was what you would define as sunshine, and rainbows, and butterflies.

you hated that your mind kept wandering back to sunwoo. it didn’t help too that you two happened to have gone here for a date before, back when it was rainbows and butterflies.

“why do we even have to eat out? we could’ve just ordered takeout and binged on movies,” you said jokingly.

“don’t you like this?” sunwoo asked in a pout. he wanted to a date different than what you always did and you know he prepared so much for this. you rarely go out on fancy dates because you guys are used to literally just hanging out, cuddling while watching a movie, playing games, and such. it’s always a date if it’s only the two of you.

“i’m just kidding sunwoo i love this,” you answered with a smile. sunwoo smiled back taking your hand in his on the table before speaking, “you know what, we should keep going to restaurants like this. i like seeing you all dolled up.”

his comment made you blush and hide a smile threatening to reach your ears. you tried to hide it by acting mad and saying, “so you mean to tell me you only like to see me when i’m dolled up?”

“dolled up or not, sleepy, or naked, you’re always a beaute to look at,” this got you even more flustered than his first remark that you could only respond with a gentle slap on his forearm to which he laughed at. there were little protests here and there about some stuff being a little too expensive, but you nonetheless appreciated the whole night sunwoo had so wearingly prepared.

“y/n? y/n?” your date waved his hand in front of you. it was only then it registered in your head that you’ve been cutting through a tiny piece of meat almost through the plate with your knife.

“oh yeah i’m- i’m sorry i’m not at my best focus right now, did you say something?”

he chuckled lowly, “it’s fine i was just asking if you’re ready to leave anytime soon?”

you’ve been eager to leave even before you got here. hence, you honestly but politely told him you’re actually ready to go, completely ignoring the few strips of food left on your plate and the half-drank wine in your glass. with your answer, he called on the waiter for the bill. he ended up paying for dinner despite your dissent to pay your own.

as you were both walking out the restaurant, you spoke, “i’m sorry this didn’t click well like how it could have,” giving him an apologetic smile.

“it’s totally fine, at least i didn’t have dinner alone tonight," he painfully joked. you had to bite your tongue from laughing a little too loud at the statement, also to stop yourself from saying you actually would have rather spent tonight alone. you did feel bad that you looked like you weren’t trying at all, although at this point you were just grateful he doesn’t hate you as your dated ended.

“well i’ll be going now,” he continued as he approached his car. “are you sure you’re okay going home alone?” he asked once more to confirm. you told him earlier he didn’t have to drive you home. you already felt guilty he paid for your food, so you didn’t want to leech off of him more with a free ride home. besides, you enjoyed late night walks. might as well take one now to clear your head.

you nodded as you answered, “yes i can manage. i’ll probably stop by somewhere to buy stuff.”

“okay then. be careful y/n, goodbye.” he softly remarked rolling his windows up and finally driving away. you could only respond by waving back with a small smile on your face you’ve been trying so hard to keep on the whole night.

the moment his car is out of sight, you immediately feel your shoulders and back lose tension, losing your rehearsed posture too, and just sighing loudly all in all. that took a lot of mind control, to act all nice and chill. the fact that your head kept bringing you back to sunwoo didn’t help too. it just messed you up even more; reminding you that you miss him, that date felt like a chore you wanted to get over with so you could go home and sulk.

who could blame you? sunwoo was the best you’ve had so far and things ended only because of you guys’ ego and pride, not to mention the extra stress that got the best of you. if only that one stupid argument didn’t lead to you telling him to go, and him actually doing it, you would find it in you to laugh at how petty that fight started.

“why are you forcing this y/n? i already told you it’s a group meeting i can’t cancel on them like that,”

“can’t you move it for like a day? you’re just postponing not canceling. it wouldn’t be too much of a delay like that, right?” you whined and insisted.

“look babe, y/n, i don’t know these people, like i told you it was the professor that assigned the group. if they were our friends it’d be easy to have them excuse us for a date, but these people don’t know us so they don’t really give a fuck about us going to watch a movie. why are you acting like a child, really.” sunwoo explained once more rubbing circles in his temple.

“i’m not acting like a child i just hate that you can’t keep a promise you made,” you know it was just a movie but it was a small date you’ve been looking forward to for weeks you considered it your reward for working hard this month. now sunwoo’s ruined it.

“what promise? for god’s sake y/n it wasn’t like a promise of a lifetime it’s literally just a movie,” he spat in annoyance looking at you with a face in disbelief.

you could not hold it anymore, you were tired and frustrated, now angry at your boyfriend that tears started to stain your eyes glossy, “now you’re just being mean,” you stared at him with sad eyes before continuing, “do you even notice you always do this? you keep cancelling on me and you don’t even do anything to make up for it.”

“okay oh god i- i cannot deal with this right now,”

“maybe you should never deal with this ever again if you find it so hard to keep your word,”

he was halfway the apartment to the door when he halted his walking and turned to you, “if you’re taking it that way then i might as well do so too.”

perhaps what hurt you wasn’t that fight that lead to the breakup, but the idea that sunwoo didn’t bother to come back and try to fix things. plus the piled up frustration that you two couldn’t do things a couple does anymore because of your hectic schedule. you had to give up a lot of your time and the drastic changes became overwhelming.

but then again, that could be his exact thoughts too. he was probably just trying his best to be responsible so as to not disappoint anyone, especially you. he was probably just as tired and frustrated.

but you were both so stubborn.

he might have been waiting on you too just as equally long as you’ve been waiting on him. he could be on a date distracted by the thoughts of you too, but you’ll never know because you had such a tight grip on your pride. and so does he.

you debated whether you were to keep sulking while eating at a street food stall alone, or at a convenience store. either way, you will be downing way more bottles of soju you can physically take anyway.

it took a bell ringing from the entrance door of the convenience store to your right to shake you off of your thoughts. you didn’t even realize your feet were taking you there already, mind still on your ex. you lazily walked inside and made a beeline to the chips section. after picking up random snacks that now filled your left arm, you went straight to the alcohol section trying to balance all the unhealthy food you were carrying with your bag hung on your shoulder.

you were aiming to pick up a few bottles and pay straight after, but as if the universe was hearing your thoughts. the man who have been invading it now stood a few steps from you, with the same posture, same shocked face, and almost similar amount of snacks balanced with one arm.

you didn’t know what to do. nor did you even had any idea about what to feel. you missed him of course, you could just throw away the snacks you were holding and have him replace that spot. but you were stubborn. your pride wouldn’t let you do that.

“oh—oh hey, you can go take yours first,” he says awkwardly, taking a step away from the fridge. it shocked you that he spoke first that you flinched the slightest. you didn’t even realize how long you have been staring at each other. “no it’s okay, go ahead you can go first,” you responded quietly, your eyes meeting his for quite a while and then reverting back down on the ground, then looking around the store.

a million things raced in sunwoo’s head at that same moment. he only meant to buy ramen at that time of the night for his first meal today. he didn’t really eat as healthily as he did when he was with you because you were always the one to remind him to eat on time, even prepared food for him. he missed having you drag him away from his paperwork just to have him eat proper food at a proper time. without you, he wasn’t really able to look out for himself. he knew you would be deadass angry if you found out about his habits since you broke up— that is, if you still cared.

that was why he was frozen on his spot when he saw the face he’s been longing to see. truth be told, it wasn’t even a few hours ago since he mentally argued with himself whether to call you or not. he didn’t know if you changed number, but there was a bit of hope in him wishing that you didn’t because you were waiting for his call too. at the same time, he was scared that you’d recognize the number and choose not to answer, that would hurt as hell and he wasn’t ready for that. hence, the reason why he resorted to playing games until it got dark and felt himself hungry.

now you’re facing each other and circuits are just going on and off in sunwoo’s brain. his hand was reaching for a bottle of soju even before he could comprehend how close you were.

he picked up one, and then another. it was dreadfully slow and he’s acting like he’s moving slowly to be careful but it’s really to savor the moment you were the closest to him after months of missing you. you, on the other hand, didn’t even noticed how slowly he was picking up bottles. you were still stunned, trying to quiet down your heart.

“so,” sunwoo spoke out of nowhere which made you look up sharply, not really helping with calming your heart. “were you, uhm— did you, went out with.. somebody?” he continued in a hush, facing your direction again after picking up three bottles.

you had your eyebrows knitted, caught off guard wondering how he knew.

he must have read your thoughts as he spoke again, “oh you don’t need to answer that if you don’t want to it’s just uh— it’s the clothes,” pointing at your dress awkwardly with that one bottle in his hand, “you don’t usually dress up like that for a trip to a convenience store.”

this made you feel lighter, causing your lips to pull in a smile with a chuckle. he likes seeing you dressed up, he would always ask for a million photos everytime you dress up for dates or events. sunwoo wished it was the latter but his mind was telling him it was a date, considering the time. it hurt him to ask but he had to at least know if you’ve got somebody new already. sunwoo thought you were so pretty, well he always did, but it made his stomach twist thinking about you getting all dolled up for a date that isn’t him.

“mmh, i had a date,” you hummed.

there was the answer he was scared to hear. he was expecting it but having it confirmed stung.

“oh, well then, that’s.. good to know, i won’t hold you up then.” he said with a forced smile in panic moving away from his spot in front of the fridge to give way to you.

“no, i’m not with him anymore,” you said making him turn around, “i’m alone now we just ate dinner, i’m actually on my way home.”

“you’re going home alone?” sunwoo asked almost in disbelief. if someone’s gonna take you from him, might as well be someone who’ll take care of you. learning that your date let you go home alone annoyed him. “it’s not like that, it’s— it didn’t really work out it’s just the first date i don’t think there will be a next one,” you laughed as you picked up two bottles of soju, your mind going back to the awkward encounter earlier you couldn’t believe you endured for an hour, even two.

this somehow made the twisting in sunwoo’s stomach stop. even made him forget he was hungry in the first place. at this point, his mind raced even more than it did moments ago when he saw you. his head was telling him two things: either he chickens out, or finally do what he’s been meaning to do.

just as you were closing the fridge, he spoke before he regrets not saying anything.

“would it be weird if i ask you to eat all these, and those,” motioning his not-so-free hand to the food you both were balancing with an arm each, “with me back in my place? or yours?” there was so much hope in his voice. “i mean, i’m sorry that didn’t sound good— i know you’re just coming home from a date, and well, we’re not together but like— just hangout maybe,” he kept rambling on with his mind all over the place trying to look for the right words.

“i missed you too.”

you finally blurted out.

this stopped sunwoo’s talking and got him looking at you straight in the eyes, letting the words sink in within him— his heart. you found the right words.

and it melts him on the spot. it felt like he finally got what he has been waiting for, for the longest time. dumb of him, and you too, to go off of each other and act like you’re looking for something else when you were literally a phone call away to each other.

he could’ve dropped all he had in his arms to hug you but he only kept watching your small smile. no words were spoken. just him looking at you with the truest intentions in his eyes, “let’s go home then.”

you could only nod, trying your best to stop yourself from bawling. what took you two so long to get your head out of your asses?

if one of you had the guts earlier than today, you both could’ve been walking back to your apartment months ago like how you are now. sunwoo missed these streets, just as much as you missed him beside you as you crossed them.

sunwoo’s apartment was closer and you would have opted to go there, but as sunwoo said, “it’s a jungle in there right now, you might want to leave again if you see it.” you could only roll your eyes at his joke but you knew damn well that was true and that’s another thing to fix some other time.

for now, all your attention is set on the man that has been invading your thoughts since ugly months ago. frankly speaking you were still quite hurt, but it felt safe with him next to you, your hand in his, squeezing it tighter than he ever did.

perhaps stubborn love still finds its way back. and maybe you won’t be crying alone to 'your name' tonight, nor be the only one using it as an excuse to cry.

[1kook]

viki & hickeys

the 8th installment to netflix & chill :~)

SUMMARY Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air.  WARNINGS a little hurt + a lot of comfort, mentions of cheating!villain!jin, insecure!kook, emotional breakdowns, mentions of jk’s lonely past, jk cries :( smut in the forms of making out, eating out, fingering, clit play, hickeys, jk likes cum, double orgasm, squirting, tiny praise kink, blindfolding, rough + unprotected sex, doggy style, choking!!!, breeding/impreg kink, JEALOUS KOOK, mini hand kink, a lil bit of spanking, degradation, he gets progressively meaner lol oc cries MISC there’s a lot of fuckin plot omfg -_-, it’s Valentine’s Eve!, doyeon makes Some Points, mentions of park seojoon juicy ass, they go on a d8 😳, oc like rlly wants to marry him, oc commits double phone homicide  RATING m (18+) WC 16.3k !!!! ik its fckin LOOOONG

NOTES (!) in true Viki fashion, here’s an nc fic where there’s like 3 different plot lines n a hot male antagonist <3 this series started off as just me wanting to write smut n it still is! now i just like to infuse different levels of angst into it as well </3 as always, lemme know what u think!! i proofread it twice but one of those times had been at 4 am so if u see a typo no u didn't. also here’s a gif  of jungkook crying during a dolly parton performances and here’s another gif of jungkook crying bc it’s scary how pretty he looks

Being evil and hot does not come for free. As you’ve long since learned in the past twenty-three years of your life, you truly can’t have it all. 

There is always some deliberating character flaw the universe must bestow upon you in order to level you out, make you fall onto the same plane as all the other mortals. Everyone has one, no matter how small or insignificant. Doyeon’s is that she doesn’t know how to work a straightening iron. Namjoon's is that he can’t tell the difference between water and liquor. Jungkook, despite all his tech-y nerdiness, doesn’t know how to do his own taxes. And yours? You don’t know shit about romcoms. 

Your knowledge on the romantic genre is what leads to this predicament now, the ring on your finger heavy as Doyeon regards you with what is perhaps the most unimpressed look known to mankind. “This is a promise ring,” she says bluntly, the bustling sounds of the coffee shop around you the soundtrack to your sudden realization. 

“No,” you deny, even though you know she’s right. “It’s an engagement ring.”

Doyeon rolls her eyes. “Babe,” she starts slowly, talks to you like you’re a dorky high schooler with her first boyfriend, “did he ask you to marry him?”

The truth is, the timing had been weird. It had been a few days after you’d rocked Jungkook’s world so you understand if he felt the sudden need to pop the question. But you were also sick as fuck that day, had only vaguely remembered the events because you were too busy with the snot up your nose and the raging fever you were battling. Had Jungkook asked you to marry him? 

You’re not so sure. 

It’s been a little over a month since then, and sure his lack of proactive wedding planning was a little weird, but you had always assumed Jungkook was one of those people who liked long engagements. Liked to drag out the last few months as a bachelor. Maybe he was waiting until you were both financially stable or something, who knows. 

Doyeon had been on some soul-searching journey around the country, so she hadn't been home for a while, had only heard of the ring through a two-second snapchat. This is the first time she’s seeing you and it in person; you can tell by the expression on her face that she’s rightfully disappointed. 

“Have you no shame, woman?” she tuts, arms crossed over her chest. “You have me parading around the world bragging about your engagement— just for this?”

You knock your forehead against the table, know it’s dirty and icky, but you deserve it. “Listen,” you huff. “I’ve only seen The Notebook, like, once.”

She scoffs. “I can tell. This is so embarrassing, don’t tell me you’ve brought it up to him?”

At her words you startle, nearly send the drinks flying across the floor. “No!” you shout, mindlessly reaching to twist the ring around your finger. It’s become a habit these past few weeks, a comfort to feel it around you. Granted, the feeling is a little muted now. “Of course he’d get me a promise ring,” you grumble, gaze flickering down to the silver band on your ring finger. “Jungkook loves all that cheesy corny stuff.” He really did. 

You’ve had enough of Doyeon’s disappointment, decide this coffee date has brought you enough three am anxiety material for the next year and a half. You conclude your date by taking a walk around town, arms locked together as you laugh at people who pass by because you’re both a little mean. 

“Maybe it’s for the best,” she says, and you agree. Well, a promise ring certainly meant something. It was, essentially, a pre-engagement ring. And the engagement ring that followed was a pre-wedding ring. And a wedding ring was, well, a wedding ring. Your heartbeat thunders at the thought. “You’re busy right now anyway,” she points out, snapping you out of your bumbling thoughts. “Aren’t you getting promoted at work soon?” 

Oh, you certainly were getting promoted at work. After many grueling months of hard work and dedication, the fruits of your labor were finally being recognized. Gone were the days of useless desk work, intern-like errands that barely required the use of any higher-order brain functions. You had worked hard these past few months, proved your worth over and over again, until you were here. Getting promoted into a new branch at your company— one where your talents were actually needed. And truth be told, there was one man to thank for that. 

Your friend and superior, Kim Seokjin. 

Seokjin is a great boss. In fact, you could argue he’s the best in the entire world and that, if it wasn’t for him, you would have quit this job that first month you started. But you had him to push you along, friendly smiles and encouragements that kept you going until this point, where you’re being promoted up into a branch where your degree finally matters. And it was all thanks to him! What Kim Namjoon was to Jungkook, Kim Seokjin was to you. 

So what if he cheated on his wife and flirted with the secretaries— Seokjin was practically a god in your eyes. 

And what Seokjin did in his free time was frankly none of your business anyway. You were colleagues at work, got along fairly well, but outside of work you were practically strangers. He was your beloved work colleague, someone Jungkook teased you about endlessly despite never having met him, and you were immensely thankful for him. “Should I be scared he’ll steal you from me?” Jungkook had joked one night, standing behind you as you scrolled through your company profile page. “He is a little handsome.”

You had pinched his side, smiling at his feigned concern when he pressed his lips to your temple. “You’re right,” you had joked back, “he is sooo cool.” And Jungkook had bitten you on the shoulder, laughed that pretty laugh when you yelped in surprise. 

Anyway, Kim Seokjin was a god, Jungkook was on his way to maybe, hopefully, one day, being your husband, and all was well. 

To honor this moment in time, you decide to swing by Jungkook’s place after your date with Doyeon, finding him lazily sprawled across his living room couch while What’s Wrong with Secretary Kim? plays on the Jumbotron. He’s in between projects right now, so he’s spent most of his time relaxing and catching up on all his favorite shows. 

Which brings you back to that deliberating character flaw of yours: no knowledge of the romantic genre to utilize in your everyday life. Your love language has always been blunt words, teasing jabs, the raw and unfiltered type of love. Emotions? Impossible to figure out. You’ve gotten pretty far in life reading verbal and physical cues; with Jungkook, you always know he’s upset when he does the little tongue-against-cheek thing, and it has saved you from many potential arguments. 

On the other hand, it is so obvious what Jungkook’s love language is when he spends fifty percent of his time on Viki, home to some of the most cheesy kdramas in existence. Most guys spend their weekends watching sports or dramatic action movies, but here was Jungkook. Watching some guy try to court his secretary. 

(Okay, he does watch sports and action movies too, but that’s not the point!)

“Hello, sweet boy,” you greet, plopping down beside him. Jungkook smiles back softly. He’s serving absolute pre-pre-husband deliciousness right now, cute glasses, fluffy curls, plaid bottoms that make him look so comfy. God, you were going to suck his dick tonight. 

Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, tastes like the chocolate cake you specifically told him not to eat without you. He blindsides you before you can scold him, pulls you onto his lap where the swell of his cock nudges against your thigh. Oh, you were definitely going to suck his dick and ride him well into the sunrise. 

“What’s my pretty girl doing here tonight?” he asks, cutely looping his fingers through yours. “Thought you were with the Wicked Witch of the West today?”

You roll your eyes, reposition yourself in a laughable attempt at pretending like you’re actually interested in the show. “We just went out for lunch,” you explain, watching the hot lead saunter across the screen. Juicy ass, but nothing compared to Jungkook’s. 

There’s a question lingering on the tip of your tongue, Doyeon’s explanations mixed with your worries, and you hold it for exactly ten seconds before you’re turning to face him head on, eyes going a little crossed from how close he is. “Hey,” you say bluntly. “Is this a promise ring?” you ask, wiggle your finger in his face. 

Jungkook blinks, once, twice, and then his face shoots up in flames. “Maybe,” he mumbles, lips pursed as he tries to avoid your gaze. He was adorable. You laugh, endeared by the red flush that crawls over his cute little cheeks and up his ears. Unable to stop yourself, you squeeze said cheeks between your hands, cooing at the annoyed expression that consumes him soon afterwards.  

“Aw, you want to marry me,” you tease, but it’s secretly a leading question for him to confess that yes, he does want to marry you. For as hot and confident as you are, you too are plagued with doubts. Doubts that can only be smoothed over by hearing it straight from Jungkook’s mouth. 

He rolls his eyes, trying to break free from your hold. “We’ve talked about this,” he murmurs, all embarrassed. But like always, Jungkook knows exactly what you want so he doesn’t deny it, and that’s good enough for you. He’s too flustered to look you in the eye now, childishly craning his head away from you when you try to force him into a staring contest. “Can I finish my show?” he whines, slightly not as hard now that you’ve reduced him into a shy, bumbling mess. It was a nice change of pace from his usual, composed self. 

But you relent, sliding off his lap to sit against his side, classic octopus hug around his waist. The episode is in full swing, not that you know anything about it. Like you said, romantic shows and movies were the least of your concerns. Jungkook, however, eats this type of shit up. “He still trying to fuck her?” you ask, not the least bit interested, but if you’re planning on sucking his dick tonight you have to listen to a few minutes of him rambling first. 

Jungkook sighs. “Yeah,” he says, “I don’t get it.” You hum, trail your hand over his abdomen teasingly. He feels so warm and lean beneath your palm, you were getting hot just thinking about it. “Why would anyone agree to dating their boss?”

You know that Jungkook’s boss is some old Facebook fart, pioneer of something on the site that neither of you two care about. So it makes sense that such a notion disturbs him. You shrug anyway. “Everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss,” you offer. “It’s like, the power dynamic, I guess.”

His frown deepens. “Would you?” Your boss isn’t exactly an old fart; the reason Kim Seokjin was such a renowned playboy is because, well, he had the looks to pull it off. Still, he had become a sort of respectable figure to you and the idea of sleeping with him doesn’t really sound appealing as much as it would to any other random bachelorette, which you admittedly were not. You glance at the screen, where Park Seojoon swaggers around in those tight slacks and fitted button-ups. 

“Hm,” you ponder, “maybe.” 

Jungkook laughs. “You’re supposed to say no, you idiot,” he says, knocks his forehead against yours softly. You can’t help but chuckle too, enamored with the happy glint in his eyes and the way his smile eats up his features. 

Oh, you loved this man. 

Because he was so sweet and good on Christmas, you let Jungkook make the plans for Valentine’s Day. After all, it’s his favorite holiday (“Why? Well, because it’s a day all about you, and me, and us,” he had sighed dreamily in the bathtub one night, hair adorably pushed back to showcase that handsome face of his. Bubbles clung to his chest, had made you dizzy with every breath he took.), so it’s only right that he gets to make the itinerary for the day, fill it with all his favorite things. After all, cheesy romantic stuff like this was right up his lane. 

He reserves a spot at the fanciest restaurant in the city, the one that has a months long waiting list. It sounds perfect, and the closer it gets to February 13th, the more excited you become. You say 13th because the 14th is a Sunday, and as much as you would love to get on your knees and praise Jungkook’s body until the wee hours of the next day, you have work. So Sunday is off the table. And it’s better this way, you tell yourself. Everywhere would have been packed that day anyway. 

It seems like everywhere you go, the entire world is gearing up for the holiday; from the fast food drive-thru to your favorite lingerie shop, there’s Valentine’s Day specials everywhere you look. Just like in those Viki dramas Jungkook likes, the world around you is enveloped in shades of pink and red, kisses and hearts, so many goddamn roses it makes you sneeze. It’s absolutely perfect— nothing could possibly go wrong when there’s so much love in the air. 

But what good is a lovey-dovey holiday without your own lovey dove himself? 

One glance out your window and your knees feel weak, because there he is. Dressed in a loose satin button up, shoulders broad, chest defined. He’s got on these fitted dress pants that accentuate his tiny waist too, thick thighs bulging beneath the fabric. There’s a coat hugging his frame, something to shield him from the cold while he waits out on the curb, does this cute little shivering dance in an attempt to warm up his muscles. Your heart feels like it’ll explode at the sight, and you can practically hear the corny, overused romantic song playing in the background of your thoughts, so you hurriedly distract yourself by slipping tonight’s dress on. 

It’s cold outside, but the sight of Jungkook makes you feel warm and fuzzy everywhere. He’s so hot it makes you dizzy, and the sap knows it when he meets you on the sidewalk. Instinctively, his hand reaches out to tangle with yours, the other slipping around your waist. “Hi, gorgeous,” he greets playfully, kissing your knuckles. His hair has grown out a little, curls up cutely when he lets it air dry and tickles your skin when he gets too close. “Lookin’ like Secretary Kim.” 

“Oh? So does that make you my hot boss?” you tease as you make your way to the car. 

As always, he opens the door for you first, flashes you this dorky little wink as he rounds the front of the car. “If it means you’ll sleep with me tonight, then sure,” he says, buckling himself in. You roll your eyes at his claim. You don’t get to see the proud little smile on his face; by the time you’ve composed yourself, he’s already pulling off in the direction of the restaurant. 

It’s a classy thing, a restaurant and bar in some insanely tall skyscraper. Of course your seats are right beside one of the huge floor to ceiling windows, overlooking the beautiful, glittering cityscape. “Fancy,” you murmur as you sit down, catching a glimpse of the eye roll Jungkook gives you. 

“You say that about any place that serves wine,” he chuckles, reaching for the bottle on the table to pour you a glass. 

The wine tastes like perfection, aged for the perfect amount of time. Whatever that was. You don’t really know, but it tastes amazing! Still, amazement aside, you manage a scoff. “I didn’t say that about your house on our first date,” you huff anyway, throwing him a playful glare over the rim of your glass. 

Jungkook laughs, full and real this time. It’s a little too loud for the classy establishment you find yourselves in, drowns out the jazz music for a second. “That’s because it was a house,” he says, wearing that big, shiny smile you adore, “and we were watching Transformers.” An amazing date, the mere memory of it makes your toes curl. He had been so dreamy— nearly two years ago now! —and had retained that aura up to the present day. You don’t think you’ve ever been so in love with anyone or anything in this world before, as cheesy as it was to admit. 

As if sensing your sudden wandering thoughts, Jungkook nudges your ankle under the table. “Hey,” he says so softly you could melt; his voice was so silky and sweet. “Everything okay?” he asks. 

A sigh, chin in your palm. You had to have been abducted by aliens or something— there was no way this was your life, this disgustingly romantic date with this disgustingly handsome man. An episode of Black Mirror maybe? One where you get forced to live in a romantic Viki drama with the man you love, every single day for the rest of your life? Maybe. 

Dramatics aside, you could practically feel that sticky sweet, sentimental monster begging to crawl to the surface, unleash the entire Shakespearean collection of lovesick sonnets on your unsuspecting boyfriend in the middle of this restaurant. But the weird ones, were you accidentally dedicate an entire six lines to the bulge of Jungkook’s thighs in his workout pants or the heart-shaped mole on his shoulder. Those kind. Before that can happen, you settle on an equally as gentle, “I love you,” murmured for only him to hear. 

Across the table, Jungkook smiles. One of those thin ones when he’s trying to keep his composure but is actually quite flustered, his subtle bunny teeth nibbling at his lower lip. “Thanks,” he responds, still trying to play it cool, but then he almost knocks his glass down and you’re reminded just how perfect he was, flaws and all. “Me too.”

You jab the pointed tip of your stiletto against his shin. “Say it back,” you warn and he laughs. 

“I love you,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Straight out of a romantic drama, like the ones on Viki that require a minimum of four different story arcs just to get to this point. But with Jungkook, it takes a few shy smiles and maybe a kiss. It has a scorching heat rising on your cheeks, one you ward away with a hurried sip of your drink while Jungkook reaches for your hand, thumb rubbing over your promise ring as if for good luck. 

That singular phrase makes your world pause, its axis stalling while you deal with the overwhelmingly soft and gooey feelings in your chest. Oh jeez, you had to rock his world tonight. It was only right. He deserved it for making you feel like this— this silly and ditzy, like a middle schooler with her crush. 

Anyway the food gets to your table after a millennia. Jungkook orders some fancy lobster dish, one that you're pretty sure costs more than the purse you brought along tonight (to be fair, you’re a cheap buyer), and still has the audacity to poke around at your plate too. He eats enough to feed a schoolhouse full of children who’ve just come off recess, practically devouring the table cloth before you stop him. And then he doesn’t let you see the bill; “baby, don’t worry about that when you’re with me,” he purrs, warm breath fanning against the skin on your neck, drunk off pure love and strawberry lemonade because he was driving tonight. The hostess is a blushing mess, fumbling for his change as Jungkook practically gropes your ass in plain sight.

You swear he’s spending too much time on that Viki streaming service, because then, as if the romantic dinner date wasn’t enough, he whisks you off to an even more romantic walk along the river. 

If there was ever a world record for “Number of Times you can Make your Girlfriend Swoon,” you’re positive Jungkook had broken it in the span of a few hours. You feel so light-headed and in love by the time you reach the river. 

“You know,” you tell him as you walk, the serene sounds of the flowing water beside you the soundtrack to your date. Jungkook swings your joined hands between the two of you. It’s chilly but you’re so full and happy that you don’t let it bother you. “I was gonna throw wine at you when we first met.”

He cackles, that loud, airy sound again that he only lets you hear, with his head thrown back. “What?” he gasps, smiley and pretty, your pretty boy. “And why were you going to do that?”

You huff, feeling slightly embarrassed now to admit such a thing. But aside from Doyeon, no one else has ever heard this classified tale. And well, you’re feeling extra emotional tonight. An abundance of emotions in one night usually ended with you crying like a little bitch at some point or another, so you’re trying to push that off for later. “Because,” you sigh, squeezing his fingers, your lone promise ring versus his assortment of fashionable rings. “You sounded like an absolute fuck boy when you first texted me!” 

Jungkook scoffs, playfully scandalized. “Me?” he squawks, pausing to stand in front of you with wide eyes and a ridiculously huge smile, the kind that has his brows raised high, lips going thin, practically displaying every tooth in his mouth from how wide it is. 

“Jungkook,” you say calmly, shoving one finger against his chest. “You asked me to Netflix & chill for our first date.” 

He groans, using your entwined hands to pull you into his arms for a suffocating hug. “I already told you,” he laughs, patting the back of your head while you get in a few lighthearted punches against his sides. “I didn’t know what it meant.” 

“Whatever, you sleaze,” you say anyway, eventually melting into his hands. “Bet you tell all the girls that.” Jungkook makes another scandalized noise, but settles when you wrap your hands around him. He smells so good and familiar, comforting even. Like home and safety, a refuge for your heart. When you’re this close, you can hear the light beating of it beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that has you closing your eyes when he begins humming your favorite song. 

He gets about two verses in when your phone suddenly goes off. 

Everything in your body says to ignore it, to continue basking in the comfort of your boyfriend’s embrace and this absolutely perfect moment. But it’s the stupid ringtone you set for all your work peers when you first loaded the entire company contact list onto your phone, so the sound alone lets you know it’s a work-related call. And for work to be calling you on a weekend was definitely not a good sign. 

“Give me a sec,” you tell Jungkook, pulling away from his arms. He frowns but lets you go, staying close as you dig through your purse for the offending device. 

It’s Kim Seokjin calling at this peculiar hour, a fact that confuses the hell out of you. Jungkook’s bouncing on his heels in an attempt to fight off the chill, giving you his beautiful side profile as he glances down the winding sidewalk that follows the river, and then at his watch. His nose is a cute red color that you want to kiss so bad. But work calls, so you tighten up and let that dream go for now. You swipe your thumb across the screen. 

“Hello, Mr. Kim,” you greet, trying to keep the confusion out of your voice. “How can I help—“

“__, my love,” he beams through the phone, so fucking loud it has Jungkook glancing over curiously. You give him a tight-lipped smile, one he returns as he shuffles closer, trying to steal your warmth like a penguin. You let him snuggle close before turning back to the droning voice of your superior on the line. 

“Hello,” you repeat again, slowly. Jungkook takes your free hand in his; when he squeezes, the band of your promise ring digs into your skin just the slightest. “Was something the matter?” 

Seokjin laughs, loud and clear. There’s a lot of other noises filtering in through his line. Briefly, you remember that there had been some work-related party for the higher ups tonight so you write it off as that. “Does there need to be a problem for me to call you, love?” 

You falter. Beside you, Jungkook’s brows furrow together, his devilishly handsome features even more pronounced. He’s obviously heard the other man on the line. “Um,” you flounder for a second, “well, usually yes.” 

Without missing a beat, Seokjin carries on with a playful tut that you’re almost certain has him lifting the receiver up to his mouth, because it’s so goddamn loud it has you flinching away from your own device. “My __,” he says, sweet and… slurred? 

He’s never used this tone of voice on you, only on other women at the office. Something about his broken marriage and needing to heal a wound, you don’t fucking know. You can’t even begin to truly understand that logic, which is why you’ve always just ignored it. Still, in the last few months of knowing Seokjin, he has never made a pass at you. Until now, that is. And until now, you had kind of convinced yourself he saw you in a sisterly way. Which sure, was worse than being friendzoned. But this was your boss you were talking about. Whether you got sister-zoned or not by him was the least of your concerns. So what was going on? What had changed over the span of a few days that had him suddenly reaching out to you on a weekend? 

Beside you, Jungkook doesn’t look the slightest bit impressed, tongue prodding against his cheek as Seokjin rambles on the line. You wish you had lowered the volume before answering, but doing so now would appear suspicious, even you could admit that. “You’re amazing, you know that?” Seokjin praises. You nod, remember he can’t see you, and settle on a blunt thanks instead. Jin laughs. “You’re different from the rest,” he hums, voice soft and weirdly intimate. 

Jungkook’s frown deepens. “What does he want?” he murmurs, somehow managing to keep his voice calm as always. The deep furrow of his brows and the tongue-against-cheek motion he had done just a few seconds ago all indicate he’s annoyed, that much you can tell. 

You shrug, eyes wide as you hurry to get to the reason for the phone call. You’re almost certain it’s just Seokjin being drunk— many people drunkenly dial their friends and family to tell them how much they’re appreciated, this wasn’t anything weird! 

Is what you try to convince yourself, but then Seokjin’s voice is dropping an octave by your ear. “Did you get my gift?” he murmurs, voice nearly drowned out by the sounds of the event he’s at. 

“Huh?” you stammer, quite stupidly if you do say so yourself. Jungkook shifts closer, obviously trying to hear. A breeze ruffles his hair, his cologne wafting over you. “What?” 

A sigh over the line. “My gift, love,” Kim Seokjin says, loud and proud. Jungkook exhales, hard. “I had it sent to your house this evening. Something pretty for a pretty girl— don’t tell me the postman fucked that up,” he jokes and Jungkook huffs, practically breathing fire through his nose when he hears the words. 

You fidget. There had been no gift when Jungkook picked you up around sunset, not like you had expected anything to begin with. And aside from Jungkook and maybe your parents, there was no one else on this planet you wanted to receive a Valentine’s Day gift from anyway, especially not from your boss of all people. “Um,” you mumble, acutely aware of the way Jungkook’s face is nearly pressed to yours now in his effort to listen in on your phone call. “I— um, haven’t been home, Seokjin.”

Jungkook scoffs, spits out a particularly unimpressed, “Seokjin?” 

Said man doesn’t hear. “Oh, of course,” he says, almost sullenly. “I forgot you had that little boyfriend to entertain tonight.” 

It’s the breaking point for Jungkook, who leans back to glare at the phone with the heat of a thousand suns. You press it against your chest before he can hear anything else. “I’m sorry,” you rush out in a hurried whisper, eyes flickering over his face, trying to gauge the intensity of his emotions. “I think he’s drunk— he’s never said things to me like this before,” you stammer, feeling like you have to defend yourself for some reason. “I’ll- I’ll take care of it, okay?” No answer, just an aggravated shake of his head, like he’s trying to calm himself down. “Jungkook?” you say, can feel the panic begin to lace your voice when his eyes flutter shut. 

He calms your worries with a gentle head butt that has you gasping in surprise, one hard exhale fanning over you. “Okay,” he says, teeth clenched. “I’m gonna go sit.” And then he stiffly walks over to one of the many benches lining the pathway. He sits, just like he had said he would, and glares down at his hands instead. 

The sight makes you anxious, unsure of how to diffuse the situation because, like you’ve said many times before, dealing with emotions— especially someone else’s emotions —was hard. Your eyes refuse to leave his figure as you draw the phone back up to your ear again. “Hello?” you call, voice trembling when Jungkook finally looks your way. The soft look he had given you all night is nowhere to be found, replaced with this rather unreadable expression. Something between annoyance and confusion if you had to guess. You don’t know, and the fact you don’t know makes you panic. Your chest feels tight when Seokjin begins speaking again. 

“You know,” he says, “you’re quite something, __. Strong, confident. Beautiful.” Had you been anyone else, you might have been flattered by Kim Seokjin’s remarks, maybe would have swooned. He was, objectively speaking, a handsome man with a hefty bank account. 

But if that was the criteria for a man to make you swoon, then the man on the bench in front of you checked all the same boxes three times over. The man who’s brows draw closer and closer together the longer you linger on the phone. Jungkook’s foot does one agonizing tap against the concrete and you find yourself stammering into the phone. “I think you’re drunk, Jin.”

A scoff. “I am,” he agrees, and doesn't even bother to hide it. “But you remind me of her, you know that? I like that.”

It’s like he knows something is going on on the line, because Jungkook visibly bristles when you sidestep in surprise. What was going on, your brain screams. Having your superior compare you to his infidel wife was definitely not something you saw coming tonight. “Uh, okay?” you say, “listen, Seokjin— Mr. Kim, I’m... I have a boyfriend. And I really lov—“

He cuts you off. Jungkook bristles at the sudden stop of your sentence. “Yeah, yeah,” Seokjin drawls, and you can feel the sheer terror of accidentally jeopardizing your relationship with Jungkook step aside for the briefest moment to allow some annoyance to seep through. Annoyed with Seokjin and his audacity, his tone, his voice. “Mrs. Kim used to say that about me,” he chuckles humorlessly, “I love you, I love you, I love you.” A long pause. You’re unsure of how to respond. “It’s not real,” Seokjin says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world. “Love, that is.”

You clench your jaw, gathering your thoughts to respond when Seokjin beats you to it. “But you know what, love?” You don’t respond. Seokjin pushes on anyway. “Someone’s gonna cheat sooner or later— why not beat him to it?” 

Your body reacts first, a startled gasp inhaled through your lips at his disrespectful preposition. Your phone slips out of your grasp. It bounces twice, lands on the ledge that gives way to the river, and you almost kick it in when Jungkook comes up behind you. “Hey, hey,” he says sternly, tugging you away from the phone you almost killed. “What’s wrong— what did he say?”

You exhale, face warm from the discomfort sitting heavy in your chest. “Nothing,” you huff, mind slightly foggy as you try to process that awkward conversation. “It’s— it was stupid,” you spit, pressing the heels of your palms against your temples, the raging anger and confusion making your head pound now. 

You had always known Kim Seokjin wasn’t the most faithful man, that the infidelity ran both ways in his relationship. But you had never imagined he would ever compare you to her, his cheating wife, in an attempt to win you over. Furthermore, you’re downright disturbed by the fact he would even try to hit on you after all the mentoring he’d given you, all the polite smiles he’d flashed you, all the praise you had bestowed upon him to Jungkook. 

Jungkook, whose jaw twitches as his hands graze your forearms. When you look at him again, you feel an immense wave of remorse wash over you at the way his own irritation is clouded by his worry for you. He had been wronged as well— disrespected just like you —but here he was, pushing his own emotions aside for your sake. He doesn’t want to see you upset. He was so good at dealing with your emotions, knew just what to do when things became too much. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, lips pursed together. “I don’t know why— he’s never— I wouldn’t do that,” you settle on, voice wobbling when Jungkook’s jaw clenches. “Jungkook,” you frown, reaching for his hands, “I wouldn’t—“ 

He shushes you with another one of those gentle forehead bumps. “Calm down,” he says, voice deeper than usual. “I know you wouldn’t.” 

Weirdly, it feels like you’ve committed a grave sin against your boyfriend. A crime. “I’m sorry,” you blubber anyway, heart thundering in your chest. “That was horrible,” you huff, desperately blinking away the stinging sensation behind your eyes. “You didn’t deserve to hear that.”

“Don’t cry,” Jungkook says, so soft and comforting; stable. You want his composure, his ability to process and understand things so quickly— his maturity. Sure he had been put off by Seokjin, but he had processed it all so quickly; adapted to the situation and stepped in to save you. Meanwhile, you nearly committed cellular murder because you couldn’t handle yourself. “He’s a weirdo,” he says, for both your sakes. “You didn’t do anything wrong, sweetheart.” 

Still, you sniffle. “I’m sorry,” you say again, the heavy feeling in your chest lightening just a little bit when he pulls you into his arms. 

“Crybaby,” he teases softly, a kiss on the crown of your head. You pinch his side. “Second phone you broke in a year.”

The mood for the riverwalk is off after that, and you only walk a few more meters before Jungkook decides it’s enough. “We can still enjoy ourselves at home,” he reassures you, and the way he tries to salvage that soft, fuzzy feeling from before is admirable. So Jungkook takes you home, holds your hand the whole drive back to your place, like he knows you’re still fragile from that extremely uncomfortable interaction, need him to hold you together. Jungkook’s emotional stability guards you like a shield, covers you in a wave of comfort as you calm down. You tell him about Seokjin’s preposition and he bristles. “Prick,” he murmurs beneath his breath, grip tightening just the tiniest bit. Your ring pinches against your skin a little painfully, but you say nothing. 

There’s a box of flowers on your doorstep when you arrive, one that makes Jungkook pause at the sight. “Wonderful,” he drones, picking it up for you as you unlock the front door. It gets left on the coffee table, practically mocking the two of you as you remove your shoes and coats. “That’s your favorite flower,” Jungkook notes. 

You glance at the expensive bouquet. “It is.” 

Jungkook drops down onto your couch, eyes flickering to the meticulous arrangement in front of him. “You told him?” Not really. But back when you had thought Jungkook and you were engaged (read: last week), you had spent days looking at different floral shops that specialized in this flower, frequently leaving the tab open on your work computer. Seokjin must have seen it then. At your extended silence, Jungkook says, “nice.”

You frown, setting your heels on the shoe rack. “Baby, I didn’t,” you tell him softly, reaching for the zip on the back of your dress. It comes down, and after clearing your hips, it falls to the floor in a dark heap you pick up quickly. It leaves you scantily clad in a black lingerie set. Meanwhile, Jungkook drops his head back, glaring at your ceiling. Tentatively, you step over to him, toying with the fabric of your dress in your hands. “You said it was okay.”

“I know,” he sighs, an unexpected confession from him that makes you pause. Despite all you’ve been through, he still rarely highlighted situations that upset him. “It’s just,” he says, turning his head to look at your form again, eyes not drinking you in like you hoped he would. “It’s scary.”

The couch cushion dips beneath your weight when you settle beside him. “What is?”

Jungkook shrugs, avoiding your question by reaching for the TV remote on the coffee table, right beside the box of flowers Seokjin had sent. He opens up the Viki app in a flash— the one linked to his account —and has even loaded up the next episode of Secretary Kim when you question him again. “What’s scary, Jungkook?” you repeat. 

On screen, there’s a beautiful scene on a bridge, the two leads happily conversing. It’s serene, something neither you nor Jungkook feel at the moment. 

Eventually, he says, “you could leave.”

You pause. “What do you mean?” Leave? Where on earth would you leave to when this was your home? He doesn’t meet your gaze. 

Another scene passes by on screen, some cheesy line and an even cheesier promise. Jungkook’s foot taps against the floor, the sound dull against the plush rug beneath you. It’s a nervous tick you’ve only seen him do at the height of truly stressful situations. Weird because just half an hour before you had dubbed him as the epitome of calm and collected at the river. 

“I thought he was cool before.” 

He did. But the word ‘cool’ didn’t always have the same meaning for Jungkook as it did for you. 

In the past, Jungkook had frequently joked about having to meet Kim Seokjin and thank him for all the help he’s given you at work. After all, up until now, you had only ever had good things to say about the man, raving about his cool demeanor and respectable work ethics. Now, the memories paired with the conversation from earlier leave a bad taste in your mouth. 

You’re a little confused with Jungkook right now; part of you had convinced yourself that whatever happened on the phone earlier with Seokjin was put behind you, marked off as an anomaly in the evening. After all, Jungkook himself had said it was okay. Park Seojoon appears on screen, and you can’t help but glare at the character, residue emotions from the river pushed off onto this innocent actor. 

Still, Jungkook surprises you. “It’s just that—“ he sighs. And then, “what if you leave?” 

You blink, eyes trained on his side profile and the way he’s nervously chewing through his bottom lip until it tints a red shade, gives way to sensitive skin when he bites too hard. “Why would I leave?” 

He says nothing. On screen, Park Seojoon says something so cheesy and romantic that it would have otherwise made you cringe, made Jungkook soft. But he’s stiff as a board beside you instead. You almost think he’s going to disregard the entire conversation when he finally speaks again. “Well.” You perk up at the sound of his voice, overly aware of the way he’s started picking at the skin around his thumb again, another nasty habit you’ve been trying to help him get over. “He’s cool. Rich.”

“And so are you,” you offer, covering his hand with your own. 

Jungkook ignores you, releasing a long, shaky exhale. Somehow, he’s exuding a similar energy as before; discontentment mixed with understanding. Like he’s greatly conflicted but forcing himself to remain calm. Another trembling inhale, and then Jungkook quietly recites, “everyone wants to sleep with their hot boss.” 

You recoil just the slightest, brows pinched together at the absurd conclusion he’s drawn. “Baby, that was just a silly conversation,” you say slowly, slipping your hand into his. He squeezes so tight you’re afraid he’ll break your bones. “And we were joking—“

“I know!” he exclaims, enveloping your significantly smaller hand in both of his before bringing them up to his face, lips pressed against your knuckles. It’s not a kiss, more so a desperate need to feel you against him. Eyes wide, you can’t do anything but watch as that collected exterior slips away, revealing a whirlwind mess of emotions. It’s a rather unexpected show from Jungkook. “It was a joke. We were joking. But I’m—“ his jaw clenches. His voice is so tiny when he speaks again. “I get scared sometimes, __.” 

His emotional outburst renders you speechless, watching as he squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching, hands trembling. 

It’s a stark image change from the cool Jungkook that had comforted you at the river, had patted the back of your head when you had been so distraught. His chest heaves for air and you don’t know what to do; it’s always the other way around, him comforting you, that when it comes down to this you find yourself at a loss. It makes you feel like you don’t know enough about yourself or him or your relationship in general to help him, always so lost when things like this happen. 

Jungkook has never been good at expressing negative emotions, always preferring to bottle them up and only show you his very best side. Granted, he’s been getting better at letting go lately, has whispered his doubts to you in the dead of night after a particularly grueling project, an uncomfortable social meeting. But he always waits until you’re half asleep and in the dark to tell you how he feels, hushed worries that you barely remember the next morning. And by then, Jungkook’s moved on from them anyway, flashes you a pretty smile and purposefully guides you away from that conversation. You know he’s started keeping a journal recently, but aside from seeing the blanks pages when he’d first gotten, you don’t have a clue what happened afterwards. It’s probably hidden away somewhere, his feelings locked up in a cupboard or a box, the secrets it holds never to be spoken of aloud. 

He doesn’t like talking about his more personal problems, hoards them until you’re forced to intervene. Find him slumped over at his dining table with bags under his eyes, the skin on his lower lip bitten beyond belief. 

Rarely does he sit down and express himself like this, lays his heart out carefully for you to see. Had he not said so right now, you would have never known Jungkook struggled with such doubts about you and your relationship. 

(It makes your heart ache at the realization.) 

Jungkook always acts like everything is okay, always forces himself to hold it together for the sake of you and, quite frankly, everyone else. He’s there when Taehyung breaks up with his girlfriends, pats him on the back and lets him run through every video game he has on his PS5. He’s there for Namjoon when his thesis becomes too much, proofreads it even though he doesn’t understand a word just for the sake of giving his best friend another perspective. Hell, he had even been there for Doyeon when her new landlord had tried to overcharge her, had carried the bulk of your argument when you ran off to try and fight with the old man. 

(“He’s too nice sometimes,” she had murmured the next morning at her place. After the shouting match the night before, you had crashed with Doyeon on her new bed, your sweet boyfriend taking up her couch. Somehow, you and Jungkook had managed to knock a clean seventy-five bucks off her monthly bill. It wasn’t much, but for an apartment in the city it sure felt like a lot. 

You had hummed, patting the top of his head on the way to the kitchen. “He’s a good boy,” you had said, heart thrumming when he instinctively pushed closer to your hand, nuzzling into you even in his sleep. “He cares about everyone a lot. Worries to death about his friends.”

The state of their relationship was weird; they were always fighting about one thing or another, ‘eternal enemies’ as Doyeon liked to claim. 

But for the first time, she hadn’t denied they were, in fact, friends. Instead, she had quietly stood at the breakfast nook overlooking the living room with a somber look on her face that was completely unlike the Doyeon you knew. She didn’t respond with her usual backhanded compliments, didn’t even call him a gremlin either. 

“He even worries about you, Miss Wicked Witch of the West,” you had teased, reaching over to pull Jungkook’s shirt down where it had ridden up, exposing his cute belly button to the cold apartment. She had sipped at her mug of coffee, eyes foggy and distant. “It just takes him a while.” 

“He’s always cared about you though,” she had murmured then, and you had marked it off as her being half asleep. But Doyeon had given you this look, a look so profoundly wise, as if she was saying, “more than you’ll ever know.”) 

Most importantly, Jungkook is always there for you. He holds you in his arms, strokes your back comfortingly whenever something goes wrong. Listens to your concerns and offers you advice, learns new things for the sole purpose of helping you out. Lets you make stupid decisions and always saves you at the last minute. And you want to repay him for all that, want to look after Jungkook like he does for everyone else. But it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard, when he doesn’t let you in, when he holds his emotions at bay for the sake of protecting yours. When you don’t even know where to start sometimes. 

The beating of your heart is accompanied by a dramatic orchestral ensemble on screen, violins and flutes as the two lovers reconcile some issue with a kiss. Beside you, your own lover is one second away from falling apart. “Hey,” you say quietly, slipping your hand out of his to hesitantly place on his back instead. With your release, Jungkook uses his empty hands to drag over his face, hide himself from you. “I’m not going to leave you, Jungkook,” you try and comfort, “I love you.” 

He shakes his head, dark locks bouncing around. “I know, I know,” he sighs, but it doesn’t sound like he believes you. It sounds like he’s forcing himself into composure again, jaw flexing as he shakes his head. “But— what if—” another aggravated huff, his thighs jumping anxiously. “You’ll get bored.” Not a question, but a statement. 

“Of you?” you ask anyway. He nods. “I won’t.”

He sits up so suddenly you have to move away to avoid bumping into him. “You will,” he urges, finally looking at you, distress painted over every inch of his face. “That guy, that Seokjin, he sounds more interesting than me. He sounds cool and put together, like the world is his oyster and,” he rubs the heels of his hands against his eyes. “You talk about him sometimes and... and you call him a god, __,” he stresses, doesn’t leave room for you to object. “And I know you’re joking, but—“ a sharp inhale, and then, quietly, “everyone gets bored of me, __.” 

Your frown deepens. “But I won’t,” you argue, confident in your claim, shifting onto your knees beside him. Your dress is thrown over the armrest of the couch, and the draft in your apartment makes goosebumps rise on your bare flesh. “You’re not boring, Jungkook,” you tell him, voice softening when his features pinch up, nose wrinkling as he wards off the stinging behind his eyes. 

It’s teenage trauma. Jungkook had told you at least that much before, this crippling sense of loneliness and an inferiority complex that hindered him during an influential growth period of his life. It’s why he’s so quiet when he has so much to say, why he brings you along to every party he gets invited to; he’s never felt like he was enough by himself. 

Sometimes, it leaks into his confessions. “I don’t deserve you,” he says frequently, but some days you want to hot glue him to a chair and force him to listen to every reason why he does and always will deserve you or anyone for that matter. “You make me better,” he claims, but he does that all on his own, lights up the world with his smile alone. 

He’s gotten better, that much you’ve learned from Namjoon and Taehyung. And even you’ve noticed it on your own, watched as he animatedly talked with his friends and his coworkers, drew people naturally to him with his warm aura. 

Even still, there’s moments where he relapses. Moments like this. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs beside you, “I know I’m a handful—“

“You’re not,” you interrupt, cupping his soft cheek in your hand, turning him to face you. Jungkook leans into the touch, and your heart breaks in half when a tear escapes over his waterline, pretty eyes brimming with tears. “You’re not a handful, Jungkook,” you tell him, shuffling closer until you can press your forehead against his. The truth is, you don’t know how to comfort him, but this is how he’s always comforted you; it feels nice when he does it for you. “You’re just enough,” you say, voice soft because it feels like your precious boy is about to fall apart in your arms, his shallow breaths rivaling the volume of the television. “You’ve always been enough.” 

He sniffles, and another tear tickles the side of your thumb, catching the light. “I’m sorry,” he repeats anyway, a disbelieving chuckle tacked on at the end. 

“Don’t be,” you shush, pushing away a strand of hair when he leans closer. His frown is still prominent, pink lips red and soft under your thumb when you tap your finger against them. “You can tell me when things worry you, you know,” you inform him, heart swelling when his eyes fall shut and he leans into your touch. He’s so handsome, the cute little mole beneath his lip begging to be kissed. “I’ll always listen.”

Jungkook hums, breathing evening out. “I know you will,” he says. “But I like listening to your voice more, and I can’t do that when I’m talking.” 

You snort and Jungkook finally lets a tiny smile slip. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after your meltdown,” you mumble, kissing his cheek softly. 

Jungkook chuckles, real this time, and sniffles right afterwards. “I’ll flirt with you whenever I want.” And, because he’s just so full of surprises tonight, he sniffles once more before he’s unceremoniously tackling you back onto the couch. You squeal, the TV remote digging into your back painfully. It has the volume accidentally skyrocketing, startling the both of you with an ear-shattering orchestral piece at the height of some emotional scene. Jungkook scrambles to free the device and lower the volume before your eardrums burst. “I didn’t even know your TV could go that loud,” he says, and he’s speaking normally but the deafening violins are still reverberating in your head, making him sound quieter than he really is. 

“Come here,” you say instead, and he obeys, crawling into your arms, mouth hovering just over yours. “You feeling better?”

Jungkook nods, dark hair bouncing. “You make me better,” he tries, but after tonight’s realization, you respond to his corny words with a pinch against his doughy cheek instead. 

“Don’t say that,” you frown, toying with one of the earrings decorating his ear. The tip of his nose is flushed red, the exertion from crying catching up to him. His lashes are dark, probably feel so heavy with the residual tears that cling to them. 

Jungkook repositions himself, guides your legs around his waist. “Why not? It’s true.” He glances at your mouth. “You make my life better.”

“Wrong,” you say bluntly, brushing his hair back with your hands. “Your own perception and understanding of your experiences makes your life better. I just happen to be in it.” Jungkook looks the tiniest bit surprised at your suddenly logical argument. “Trust me, I saw it in a documentary the other day.” 

At that he laughs, full and loud, pecking your lips once with a sweet smile on his face. “Now I know you’re lying,” he grins, gently nudging his nose against yours. The drama on the TV is but a quiet hum compared to the pounding of your heart in your chest when he looks at you like that. “Because you don’t even like documentaries.” 

You kiss him softly, holding his hair back for him. He tastes a little bit like the chocolate cake he had at the restaurant and the lemonade he drank (he didn’t indulge in the sweet wine with you because he needed to drive). His lips mold perfectly against yours, and he sighs softly when he finally draws back. “But I like you,” you purr. 

Jungkook’s eyes darken, one heavy exhale fanning across the lower half of your face. You readjust the leg around his waist, pull him closer just the slightest bit. “Don’t flirt with me so soon after my meltdown,” he repeats, lips brushing against yours. You chuckle. “You don’t know what that means to me.” You can roughly guess, but that opportunity is taken away when Jungkook slots his mouth against yours, soft lips molding to yours. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, wastes no time slipping in when you open for him, hot and wet. 

Jungkook’s fingers are just as warm when he trails them up the back of your thigh, pulls you impossibly closer until the buckle on his belt is pressed flush against your mound. A tiny whimper escapes your lips, chest jumping just the slightest from the pressure. It makes Jungkook pull away with an easygoing grin, chocolate eyes half-lidded. “You okay?” he murmurs, breath a little shaky from the kiss. You nod, tangling your fingers behind his head and pulling him in close again. 

He evades your puckered lips, ducking down to press his own against your throat, right beneath your jaw. “Ugh,” you groan, digging your nails into his back through his satin shirt. “I wanted a kiss.”

Jungkook nips at your skin, this tiny gesture that couldn’t hurt even if he tried. “You always want a kiss,” he retorts softly, the quiet smack of his lips filling your ears as he bestows a series of smooches against your skin. And it’s so devastatingly tender how he handles you, like you’re made of glass and will break at a moment’s notice, like he wants to treasure your body for the rest of his—

Jungkook chomps down, hard, and you hiss. “Sit still,” he orders, soothing over the bite with one broad lick of his tongue. 

You whimper. “That hurt.” 

“And it’ll hurt even more if you keep moving,” he warns you, and before you can ask what that even means, he’s leaving another stinging bite just further down. It’s at the midway point of your neck, right in front, and you can feel your heartbeat in your throat when he sucks a painful mark over it. “There,” he says, mostly to himself. “All mine.”

Your legs tighten around him, and you fight down the wave of heat that threatens to consume you when he places one final kiss over the second mark— the hickey. 

Jungkook doesn’t usually leave them. In fact, you can rarely recall a time where he had purposefully gone out of his way to mark you up like this. It was always accidental, always unplanned, because he knew how troublesome it was for you to cover them up for work the next morning. Work, where your coworkers and your bosses and Seokjin could see. 

Brows pinched together, your brain begins to draw a connection, one that Jungkook is soon confirming himself. “Everyone will see that now,” he hums, kissing a trail down your neck. 

Of course. 

You pat the back of his head in amusement, hiding a smile against his soft locks. Before you can say anything more, maybe tease him for being so cute, there’s a hand on your hip that snaps you out of your scheming. Jungkook lifts his head, does that endearing little head shake that pushes his hair out of his eyes, before leaning in for another languid kiss. 

It’s even slower than the first, mostly because he’s a little too preoccupied with running his hands over your body now. It starts at your shoulder, teasingly snaps the strap of your bra as you push your tongue down his throat. Jungkook whimpers, that pretty sound that makes you desperate to hear more. It’s the same sound that he always makes when he wants to be pampered, wants you to kiss his entire body while he lays there and takes it. 

And you’re all too ready to act on it. 

Duty calls and you’re there to answer, tilting his head for him with your hands against his cheeks. He sighs against you, breath trembling as it tickles across your skin. That soft and tender way that makes you melt because he’s just so precious, so dreamy. 

But you’re too caught up in your plotting to remember the hand he’s got on your hip, the one that teases the waistband of your panties with one lone finger. It’s only when Jungkook pulls away from your inviting mouth, his other hand holding you down by your shoulder, that you’re snapped back into reality. His lips are swollen and red, slick from your tongue, and so tantalizingly kissable. He huffs out a breath, eyes flickering over your face. “Can I touch you,” he husks, and gives into the temptation to press a kiss against your jaw. 

“Yes, please,” you shiver, hypnotized by his hungry stare. 

Jungkook wastes no time, pressing another kiss against the bruising mark over your throat that dissolves into a series of lighter smooches he trails down between your breasts. His hands come up to cup your boobs over your bra, giving them one harsh squeeze that has you releasing a long exhale as he moves between the valley and down your tummy, over your belly button. “Open,” he says at your pubic bone, carefully guiding your legs apart until you’re spread wide for him. 

The dark panties you’re wearing tonight— the super expensive ones you had spent an hour measuring your body for the exact sizing —receive one light kiss over the front. “Always so pretty for me,” Jungkook murmurs, tracing one lone finger down the middle. Your stomach contracts when he nudges it against you, the soft material of your panties just barely pushed between your folds. 

As his hand occupies itself with some relatively light foreplay, Jungkook tasks himself with leaving another tingling mark against your skin. This time, it’s on the inside of your thigh. He starts it off slowly, a few littered kisses against the skin until he deems one spot worthy enough and abruptly sinks his teeth into you. “Not so hard,” you whimper, reaching down to bury your hands in his hair. 

Jungkook lets it go, sloppily licking over the area. “You like it hard,” he husks, meeting your gaze as he licks one, long stripe over the tender skin. “Don’t you?” You nod demurely, pressing your knuckles against your lips to hold back a tiny moan from slipping past your lips. 

With that new mark blooming over your skin, Jungkook transfers his attention to your pussy, hidden beneath the soft material of your panties. One finger hooks under the hem, tucking them aside until he can see you in your entirety. “Fuck,” he groans, pressing one light kiss over your clit that makes you inhale sharply, fingers digging into his scalp. Jungkook throws one final glance your way before letting his tongue slip past his lips, the very tip flicking against your clit. 

Your breathing becomes shallow, anticipation building in the pits of your stomach as he slowly but surely begins playing with you. His tongue is so warm and wet, nudges your throbbing clit, nose pressed against your mound. “Mmm,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut as his mouth works wonders. 

“Ah,” you gasp, whiny and high-pitched, when he dips one finger past your wet folds. The entry is seamless, his pointer finger sinking into the velvet walls of your cunt as his tongue swirls against your hardened bud. “Jungkook,” you mewl, knocking your heel against his shoulder. Jungkook huffs, suctions his lips around your clit. The cold metal of the rings he always wears— the duo set from that Chrome Hearts brand he likes so much —presses against the trembling lips of your pussy, makes your back arch when he twists his finger inside of you. 

He’s so precise with his tongue, knows just how long and how hard to lick against your pulsing clit until you’re trembling, thighs quivering. Briefly, he pulls away, flicks his hair to the side in one suave motion that lets you see his dark eyes when he glances back up at you again, covered in a thick sheen of lust that makes them appear almost black as opposed to his usual warm brown. His hands reach for the waistband of your panties, tug them off with one fluid pull. 

“So pretty for me,” he murmurs, the end of his words laced with a slight rasp that makes your hips jump. “All for me,” he says, roughly pushing his finger into you again. The harshness makes your entire body tighten up in surprise, eyes fluttering shut when he slips his middle finger alongside his pointer this time around. 

“Baby, wait,” you whimper, walls fluttering around the two digits. Jungkook leans back in, presses a chaste kiss against your clit that makes your breathing stall as he thrusts his fingers into you. 

He ignores your cries, locks his lips at the juncture where your thigh meets your body, sensitive skin that bruises all too easily when he sucks against it too hard. “Only for me,” he sighs, all pretenses discarded as he begins rapidly and roughly fucking his fingers into you. It’s intense, has your thighs quaking as he speeds them up. 

The coil in your stomach tightens, and you have to bite down on your knuckles to stop the litany of whimpers from slipping past your lips when Jungkook ducks down again. He bypasses your quivering clit, warm tongue licking at the warm, wet folds around his fingers instead. The proximity makes the tip of his round nose brush along the length of your cunt, a sight and sensation that makes you moan, his bangs harshly tugged away from his forehead to give you the perfect view. 

It’s with a particularly hard shove and twist combination of his fingers into your clenching walls that you cum, a gasp caught in your throat as your hips push toward him, chasing the feeling Jungkook bestows upon you. Your breathing is a mess, inhales too short, your exhales inconsistent, as Jungkook slows the speed of his fingers inside of you, lets your cum ooze out around them, coat his fingers and his rings. 

“No,” you cry, watching that look come over his face when he withdraws his hand, the look that usually follows him sucking your cum into his mouth. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do that—” you whine, reaching for his wrist and yanking it towards you. 

Jungkook follows, crawls back up beside you as he chases his own sticky fingers. “It’s mine,” he urges, has this weird look in his eyes you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. And just as quickly as it crosses his features, he’s lurching forward to catch his own fingers in his mouth. It’s lewd, the way his tongue wraps around them, leaves them sleek under the TV glow, tattoos and rings glistening. He has the audacity to moan, eyes fluttering shut as his devious tongue slips down between his fingers, so long and precise. There’s a tiny noise that tears itself from your throat, one that has him flickering his clouded gaze up to you as his fingers are released from between his own lips. “You like that,” he murmurs, wet fingers trailing down your cheek, capturing your chin to turn your face his way completely. 

His tongue is sinful as it slips past your lips again, the tangy taste of yourself clinging to him. His breathing feels hot, suffocating. But his kisses are so good, make your mind go blank. So blank, that the fingers that rub at your clit surprise you completely. “Kook,” you gasp, breaking away from him in surprise. 

Jungkook doesn’t let you get far, capturing your mouth with his again. The two fingers you had felt on your chin are gone, firmly pressed against your swollen clit, experimentally rubbing against it. Never mind the fact you were still sensitive from your first orgasm, thighs quivering when he drags them against the wet, soft skin. It makes you shudder, breaking away from him a second time for a desperately needed inhale of fresh air. Jungkook follows behind closely, pressing kisses over your jawline, your chin, as his fingers continue moving against your clit.

He has them pressed together, rubbing at the front of your slit where that bundle of nerves is hidden. It makes your stomach contract, hips jerking forward into the touch in an effort to match him, to speed up the process. “You were made for me, pretty girl,” Jungkook huffs against your cheek, nose pressed against your skin because he’s just so close, practically molded into your side as his fingers send rhythmic shocks of ecstasy up your spine.

Your mouth drops open, stuttered gasps filtering through your lips as Jungkook takes advantage of your sensitive body to draw out another orgasm. But there’s a weird sensation that builds in your stomach this time, one that brings with it a sense of panic. “Wait—“ you gasp, fisting the silky material of his shirt beneath one clenched fist. “Jungkook,” you warn, toes curling.

He responds with a harsh nip against your lower lip that makes you whimper. “Go ahead,” he purrs, rubbing his fingers over you at an insane speed, one that has your juices sloppily spread over your pussy, makes you buck into him and moan against his mouth. 

The feeling grows, an intense, unfamiliar thing that you rarely recall ever feeling before, gasping for air as Jungkook’s fingers caress your clit, pressing down hard. “Fffuck, fuck,” you sob, mouth opening in a silent scream, eyes rolling backwards as you feel your pussy lips contract harder than ever before, thighs quivering as your juices squirt out of you, lower body reduced to jello as Jungkook quickens his movements, wrists jerking back and forth as your pleasure sprays out of you. “Ju— Jungkook,” you wail, forcefully slamming your thighs shut when he doesn’t stop, the pleasure seemingly never-ending under such a torturous touch. “Stop—stop,” you beg, eyes filling with tears that spill over when his trapped hand manages one final rough rub against your clit accompanied by a final gush of wetness. 

Only then does he stop, leaning back on his knees to drink you in with dark eyes that make you quiver. There’s no trace of his usual post-orgasm cockiness, the smile he’ll flash you, the teasing jabs. Nothing, just a frankly terrifying gaze that has you self-consciously pressing your hands over your chest. 

Jungkook doesn’t take kindly to it, roughly snatching one of your wrists up until you’re sitting up, the traces of your own orgasm present in the damp couch cushions beneath you, inner thighs coated in a thin sheen of your own pleasure. Jungkook leans in close, nose bumping against yours. “You came like that for me,” he says quietly, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. You nod, eyes wide and teary when he reaches for the front of his shirt, giving it the same treatment he usually gives yours; two hands at the front, yanking it apart until the buttons are torn from their stitches and bouncing across your floor. 

He throws it off to the side, his tan skin highlighted by the cool tones of the television, the dark sleeve of his tattoo especially prominent. The black ink almost looks blue under this light. You’re so distracted by the perfect swirls and doodles on Jungkook’s skin that you don’t realize that same hand is reaching for you until it’s too late, long fingers wrapping around your throat to jerk you forward, head tipping back to look up at him. “Say it, sweet girl,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded. “Tell me you’re mine.”

The fingers around your throat squeeze once and then slowly begin tightening. You gasp, meeting his hooded gaze with yours, lips quivering for a response that’s stuck in your throat, trapped by your own surprise and tightening airways. Frantically, you reach for his wrists with both hands, not to pull Jungkook’s hand away, but to ground yourself from the hazy cloud of lust the moment evokes. 

Still, your body isn’t as strong as you thought, and once Jungkook reaches a certain tightness around your throat you find yourself coughing. Instantly, he loosens his grip. But not too much. “I- I’m yours,” you rasp out, gasping for air. 

For now, it satisfies Jungkook enough for him to release you. And while you’re grateful for the rush of fresh air that fills your lungs, the phantom ghost of his grip around your throat sends a new gush of wetness between your thighs. One that grows tenfold when Jungkook reaches for his belt, undoes it easily. It comes off with one fluid motion, carelessly shucked off to the side as his attention moves to the front of his pants instead. 

He doesn’t let you sit around uselessly. “On your knees,” he says, so quietly you almost don’t hear it. “Sit on your knees facing the table.”

You blink slowly, the dry tears on your cheeks leaving stiff trails against your makeup. It takes a moment for your brain to process his request, one long second that has Jungkook pausing in his movements, leveling you with one solemn glare that eventually has you springing into action. You hastily slip off the couch, shuffling toward the coffee table between it and the television. The rug is soft beneath your knees, a luxury you can’t enjoy to the fullest because there’s a ball of excitement and fear stuck in your throat. (Right beneath your bruised skin and recuperating windpipes.) Sitting back on your calves, it feels like every nerve is standing stiff as you await his instructions. 

“Bra off,” Jungkook says from behind you, and you’re startled by the sudden ripping of stitches behind you, almost turning to look at him. He stops you with one hand around the back of your neck, drawing a surprised gasp from you. “Sit still,” he commands, your back stiff straight, eyes focused on the screen. After a beat, Jungkook lets you go, pats the back of your head gingerly. “Good girl.”

A whimper catches in your throat at the praise, and you barely manage to bite down on it in time, hurriedly reaching behind you. Your hands fidget over the clasps on your bra, and you nearly jump out of your skin when one lone finger traces down your spine, undoing your bra for you. You don’t know why, but you say, “thank you.”

The television changes scenes in front of you, the bright colors a stark contrast to the darkness of Jungkook’s eyes. Your hands tremble in front of you, fingers anxiously tangling with each other. A few inches beside you, there’s a dark red box filled with the flowers from—

Suddenly, your vision goes dark, hands instinctively reaching up to your eyes. The pads of your fingers come in contact with a soft material, smooth and silky. Just like— “Is this… ?” you murmur, hands sliding across the makeshift blindfold Jungkook’s made for you, the same texture as his shirt had been. 

He doesn’t grace you with an answer, just a hand against your hip as he, presumably, settles behind you. “Does it matter?” Jungkook says instead, voice all too close to your ear. Your entire body locks up, hands quickly returning to their spot against the coffee table. 

Just as you’d suspected, Jungkook is all too close now, hands crawling over your body. They start at your waist, massage the skin tenderly, lovingly, before gliding up to cup your breasts. You shiver, a quiet exhale escaping you as Jungkook rubs his palms over your boobs, trapping your stiff nipples between his fingers. A sound threatens to escape you, and you trap it behind a bitten lip, fists clenched against the table before you. “You know,” Jungkook says conversationally, like he’s not pinching your nipples enough to make you squirm. “Who else do you think can make you come like this?”

You brain lags. “W- What?” you stutter, thighs pressing together to ward away the arousal. Not like they’re already sticky from before, from when Jungkook had made you squirt. 

Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat, pressing a kiss against your shoulder that he trails up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Who else,” he says slowly, “can make you come like this?”

It’s not a trick question— no one could. You tell Jungkook as much. “I— no one,” you answer, rolling your lips in when he kisses the tender spot beneath your ear again. 

His kisses feel loud, but not as loud as his voice when he says, “exactly.” You swallow, gripping at the edge of the coffee table when he releases your boobs, trails one hand between your thighs, the other around your throat to pull you backwards against his chest. It makes your hands flail, landing against the tops of his thick thighs. 

Jungkook holds you close, fingers tightening around your throat teasingly. “No one else can please you like you want,” he exhales, letting his fingers trail over your skin. “Not the guy on tv, not your exes, not the fucking loser at your job,” he hisses, lips against your ear. “No one,” he reiterates, voice softer now as he presses a kiss against you. “No one but me.”

And it’s true. 

You can’t even muster your usual mouthy, bratty attitude when Jungkook serves you cold hard facts like this. Not when you can feel his aching member press against the small of your back, rest perfectly in the slight dip between your ass cheeks. “Isn’t that right, sweet girl?” he murmurs, voice low. 

You nod, tummy tightening when he uses the hand between your thighs to spread them apart. “Only you,” you agree, voice feathery.

Jungkook hides a grin against your skin, a mean chuckle escaping him when he rests his forehead against your shoulder. “Fuck,” he says, releasing your throat. “Such a good girl,” he praises, hands on your hips again. He uses them to encourage you up onto your knees, hips bumping into the edge of the table as he shuffles you forward. “Bend,” he says quietly, palm flat on the center of your back, pushing you down until your belly button is pressed against the cold wood, boobs swinging forward just the slightest. “Perfect.”

Jungkook shuffles up behind you, soothes a hand over your hip when you flinch at the first press of his cock against your folds. “You’re okay,” he comforts, voice like honey as he lines himself up. Your folds are slippery and wet, loose from your arousal and the two orgasms he’s already given you. 

Despite all that, the first push of his engorged cock past the tight muscles makes you gasp. “Baby, that’s,” you moan, nails scratching against the coffee table to make a sound that you would otherwise find uncomfortable. “I—“

Jungkook pants behind you, cock sinking further and further in. “I’ve got you,” he husks. His voice is like the light at the end of the tunnel, your dark vision forcing you to rely on him entirely as he guides you through the motions. “Made for me,” he repeats, voice airy.

You nod jerkily, arms trembling as his cock plunges deeper inside of you. “Made for you,” you gasp, head falling forward, forehead pressed against the cold surface in front of you. 

He moans, and there’s one deafening moment of silence when he finally reaches the hilt, soft pubic hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your folds. It’s a familiar sensation, having him buried inside of you, but it’s always different when he’s doing it from behind. He always feels fuller, bigger, mushroom tip practically kissing your cervix. 

“Kook,” you whimper, walls unintentionally contracting around him when he lingers a second too long. “Move.”

“Fuck, fuck,” he curses behind you. “I know, it’s just—“ he pauses, squeezes your hip so hard, you’re certain it’ll bruise. “I wanna… y’know,” he groans, dropping his head against your back, warm breath fanning across your slightly sweaty skin. 

It makes something in your stomach click into place, shifting back just the slightest. The small drag around your lips makes you brave. “Then do it,” you urge, desperate for any sort of friction. 

Jungkook practically growls, bucking into you once. “No,” he says, like he’s battling with himself, faced with a mental hurdle he can only cross alone. “You don’t understand,” he sneers, suddenly snapping back into position behind you, pulling you flush against his pelvis once more. It makes you whimper. 

“I kinda do—“

“You don’t,” Jungkook hisses, forcefully thrusting his hips into you enough to make your hips knock painfully against the edge of the coffee table, a startled moan falling from between your lips. And from there, it’s like you’ve unleashed a beast, because Jungkook shows you no mercy as he begins fucking you, his fat cock slipping in and out of you, his angry head flirting with your entrance. “I wanna fucking breed you,” he sneers, fingers digging into the skin around your waist to hold you still as he bucks his hips forward.

His vulgarity makes your skin heat up, the warmth probably tangible over your sloppily made blindfold, eyes wide despite the fabric that covers them. “That—” you gasp, thighs trembling with each powerful thrust. 

“It’s too much, I fucking know,” he huffs dryly, releasing one hip to press against your shoulders, roughly shoving you forward until your breasts are pressed against the surface, arms bent up beside you to stop yourself from hitting your head. “But— But,” he shudders, suddenly stopping his thrusts to grind his cock against you instead, pussy lips quivering around his girthy member. “I wanna,” he pants, “wanna see you so fucking full of me, because— you’re mine, __,” he seethes, “right?”

You nod blindly, dumbly, brain too flooded with the stimulation he’s bestowing upon you to think properly. “I- I am,” you confirm, gasping for air. “And you’re mine,” you manage to get out, one hand slapping down against the coffee table when he draws his cock out, slams himself back into you quickly. 

“I’m yours,” Jungkook slurs behind you, slowly picking up his pace again. The hand on your back lets go, and it’s with trembling arms that you manage to push yourself back onto your forearms, one hand blindly reaching for the hand he’s got gripping at your hips. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper, the sounds coming from your connected bodies so lewd and obscene, disgustingly wet when Jungkook slips back inside. He surges forward again, and you try to catch your balance, knees quivering underneath the force of his thrusts. Your hand slides over the tabletop in a feeble effort to hold onto something, anything. You can’t see, and even if you could there’s not much to hold onto on a flat surface. 

Except the box your hand knocks into. Your confusion lasts for only about a second because then Jungkook is ramming his cock into you, over and over, until you’re certain your hips are going to bruise and your knees are going to give out. Jungkook’s moans are soft and feathery, sighs that fan over your shoulder and make your back arch, eyes rolling backwards for the briefest second as if you were possessed. 

“Mine,” he whimpers, desperate and needy, fingernails digging into your skin as he pushes on. “Gonna be mine forever,” he growls. “Gonna— Gonna be so pretty and big,” he moans, “tits so fucking full.” The image he puts in your mind makes you dizzy. 

You nod dumbly, knuckles bumping against the box a second time. “Jungkook,” you choke out, fingers blindly nudging the box aside. But there’s no strength behind it, your entire body feeling weak and useless, all the energy concentrated in the coil in your stomach, the one that grows and tightens with every entrance of Jungkook’s cock into your pulsing walls. “There’s— There’s something,” you gasp, pinky finger tapping against it.

Behind you, Jungkook stills, harsh breaths deafeningly loud. Louder than the television and the corny music that plays, the mindless chatter of the characters you couldn’t name even if you tried. “Why would you...” Jungkook huffs, irritation lacing his words.

You don’t get to question it, because a second later his finger is tucking itself beneath your blindfold, yanking it off carelessly. It makes your head crane backwards, a tiny yelp torn from your lips as the blinding glow of the TV attacks your poor eyes at full force. Jungkook’s long since stopped his rapid thrusts, and it’s only when you glance off to the side that you realize why. 

It’s the stupid box of flowers Seokjin had sent you, the one Jungkook had placed on the coffee table when you first got home. 

Behind you, Jungkook releases one long exhale, both of you looking at the arrangement with various degrees of discomfort. “Did you like them,” he murmurs, cock throbbing inside of you. 

You shake your head, a soft, “no,” falling from your lips. The muscles in your thighs quiver like mad. 

Jungkook says nothing, but you watch as one inked arm stretches out from behind you, the movement of his hips pushing his cock deeper into you. A tiny whimper catches in your throat, watching as Jungkook hooks a finger over the lip of the box. One swift tug has it gliding over the tabletop, coming to a stop right beside your forearm. Jungkook leans back, the silence terrifying. 

“Did you think they were pretty?” he asks, tracing one finger down your spine. Your lower lip trembles as your eyes scan over the bouquet, at the pretty color selection and lovely scent that joined together to overwhelm your senses. 

“No,” you say, but it feels like a lie.

And Jungkook thinks so too, wrapping one hand around your throat and pulling you back forcefully. It’s the same as he did earlier, but with his cock deep inside your pussy, it sends a shock throughout your entire nervous system, a sob tearing itself from within you as he unintentionally pushes himself deeper inside. “Did you,” he says a second time, practically seething, “think Seokjin’s flowers were pretty?”

Your eyes flicker nervously across the screen in front of you, but everything is a blur, Jungkook’s harsh breathing against your ear. “Yes,” you confess, whimpering when his fingers tighten around your throat, press down against your windpipe as he inhales sharply. “But they’re just flow—“ He squeezes your throat so hard, your eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, mind growing fuzzy. Eventually, he lets go and you dissolve into a fit of coughs, bent over the coffee table again as Jungkook slips his stiff cock out from within you. “I’m sorry,” you sniffle, throwing a teary-eyed look over your shoulder.

What you’re not expecting is for Jungkook to grab that same shoulder and roughly push you onto your side away from the coffee table, falling onto the fluffy rug as he shoves you down. “Something pretty for a pretty girl,” he sneers, biting down a frankly maniacal grin.

“What?” you exhale, probably looking at him with the same maniacal look in your eyes. 

(You were made for each other, so crazy and in love.)

Jungkook stretches one toned arm out, and you flinch when he uses that same beautiful arm to send the box of flowers flying over the edge of the coffee table, a hard thwack resounding throughout the room when they land face down on the other side, petals against the floor, water dripping out from inside. 

With those out of the way, Jungkook wastes no time flipping you over, face shoved down against the soft rug as he angles your hips up. “Thinking about someone else when I’m right here,” he growls, ramming his cock back into you with no warning. You sob, clawing at nothing as he bucks forward. “What a mean girl,” Jungkook scolds. 

“I- I wasn’t,” you defend weakly, shivering as he snaps his hips against you, the rug irritating your cheek when the motion sends you forward. Jungkook uses the hands on your hips to pull you back, your skin clapping together loudly. 

“You think Seokjin would— would fuck you like this?” he spits, using you like a toy as he fucks basically for himself, cock sliding in and out of your squelching walls. “You think he’d push you down and—and call you a stupid girl?” 

You shake your head, eyes squeezed shut to fight the wave of tears threatening your waterline. Truthfully, it doesn’t make much of a difference, especially not when Jungkook yanks your hips back again, your entrance sensitive from all the friction. “No, no,” you sob. ”He wouldn't.”

Jungkook scoffs, not bothering to slow his pace down. “Of course he wouldn’t,” he spits, and then, strikes your ass. Two hard cracks of his palm, rings and all, against the globes of your ass. You wail, unconsciously jerking away only for Jungkook to drag you back. “Stupid girl,” Jungkook sighs, cock twitching inside of you. You can feel the beads of precum oozing out from the tip of his cock inside you, their warmth making you shudder. 

Your other ass cheek receives the same treatment, two harsh smacks that leave the skin tingling, blood rising to the surface. “Stupid, stupid girl,” he repeats, palms rubbing over your cheeks for a brief second, only to strike down again. “Aren’t you?” You nod, fat tears dripping out of the corner of your eyes and down onto the fluffy rug beneath you. Your behind stings, pain blossoming over your skin. But it’s the good kind, the one that has drool escaping from the corner of your lips from how overwhelmed it leaves you. 

“I- I’m a stupid girl,” you agree, your words punctuated by a series of tiny sobs and sniffles. Your walls feel sensitive, raw, from his thrusts. You’re ready to come, trembling hands slithering down to reach for your clit. 

“Don’t,” Jungkook warns, snatching your arm up and twisting it behind you. 

You cry, tears and drool against the rug. “I wanna come,” you whimper, trying your other hand only for it to meet a similar demise. “Please,” you sniffle, turning your face the other way as if the angle will somehow be different. 

“You don’t come until I say so,” Jungkook hisses, using his grip on your wrists to tug you onto his cock. You moan, choke on your own saliva from the force, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix for real this time. It renders you stupid, just like Jungkook had called you, chin trembling as your eyes roll backwards. Behind you, Jungkook grunts something deep and raspy. “Fffuck,” he spits, pistoning his hips into your inviting heat. “You were doing so good tonight—“ a particular brutal buck of his hips, a loud moan torn from your lips “—but first those fucking flowers and now this?”

The rhythm of his deep thrusts cut your moans into stuttered little cries, your words broken with every ram of his cock inside of you. Your walls feel worn, every brush sending a tingling shock up your spine. “I- I’m sorry,” you weep, shoulders shaking from your own tears and the rumbling orgasm that’s just about ready to snap. 

Jungkook says nothing, too busy shoving his cock inside of you to grace you with a response. Instead, you’re subjected to his relentless thrusts, sharp gasps from his pretty mouth. “Fuck,” he pants, releasing your wrists after one particular thrusts, your walls clenching around him painfully when he draws his cock out. 

“I can’t,” you sniffle, knees giving out before he can catch you, sadly sinking down onto the plush rug. “Kook, I—”

Jungkook makes a sound, something between a growl and a roar in the back of his throat as he follows behind you, planting two firm hands on the sides of your head to use as leverage to fuck himself in. With your thighs pressed flat together, the squeeze is tighter than ever before, and your eyes roll backwards as he gets to work, walls fluttering from the overstimulation. 

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he pants, all games thrown aside as he begins pounding his cock past your folds, deep into your contracting walls, until that tight spring in your stomach gives out and you’re clenching up beneath him, entire body going stiff for one long beat. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you weep, thighs quivering as you cream his cock, make his movements so slippery and wet, almost dangerous when he’s going this fast. His name falls from your trembling lips, every nickname and pet name you’ve ever given him mindlessly blubbered through your orgasm. Jungkook pays you no mind, thighs tensing up as he chases his high, short breaths and moans filling the space as he fucks himself into you. Until, finally, a few deep strokes later, he’s coming with a shuddered cry of your name on his tongue, collapsing over you, forehead pressed to your back as he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” he groans one last time, body going slack very quickly. He slumps down beside you, softening cock slipping out of your tender folds. 

The floor between the coffee table and the couch is dark, the television glow not reaching down here. Even still, the sweat clinging to Jungkook makes him look like a sparkly Twilight vampire, the dip between his pecs collecting the smallest pool of sweat. You can’t stop yourself from running your pointer finger along the skin, over his nipple. His pec jumps deliciously under the attention. “Stop,” Jungkook sighs, catching your wrist in his, pressing his lips to your knuckles in an attempt to distract you. “Or I’ll really get you pregnant next time.”

You push yourself onto your elbows, pinching his doughy cheek. “You won’t,” you tease. Jungkook flicks his hair away from his eyes to level you with a look you’ve never seen before, not a trace of his usual post-sex playfulness to be found. It has you retracting your hand, eyes wide when he doesn’t stand down. Still, you can’t lose. “...No you won’t,” you repeat, quieter, almost unsure. Almost a question. 

Jungkook rolls his eyes, tugging you into his arms. He’s all sweaty and sticky, just like you. He’s lucky he doesn’t have four separate loads of cum— three from you, one from him —sticking between his thighs. “Keep telling yourself that,” he pants, so smoothly. Too smoothly. It makes you clench your thighs, something Jungkook doesn’t miss. “Stop it,” he warns a second time.

“You’re just so dreamy,” you whine, sitting back up to play with his hand. “Like, when you made me squirt?” He chuckles softly, eyes fluttering shut. “Not gonna lie, I thought I saw the answer to the universe for a second.” 

He’s worn out today, more than usual, that he doesn’t bother gracing you with a response. But it had been a long day for Jungkook; from planning an entire date, to the Seokjin debacle, to the crazy hot sex he’d gifted you. It was only reasonable. You reward his efforts with a soft peck against his cheek that makes him smile, a light blush painting his cheeks. “You did good today,” you hum, patting chest comfortingly. 

“Felt like I was in a Viki drama,” he confesses after a moment, has that tiny smile on his face that makes the apples of his cheeks especially round, especially cute. “The kind that have twelve plot lines going on.”

You laugh, snuggling beside him. The rug feels dirty, but so do you so the feeling is cancelled out or whatever. “You’d be the Park Seojoon of any Viki drama,” you tell him, and Jungkook laughs.

That loud and airy one he reserves only for you. 

epilogue

Namjoon calls Jungkook’s phone a little after eleven, talking your ear off about some date he’d gone on while Jungkook is in the shower. You tell him about what happened with Seokjin and like all respectable college mentors, he just about flips. “You can sue him,” Namjoon hisses, furious for you. Not that you aren’t anymore, but in a weird act of impulsiveness, Jungkook had gone outside and ran the stupid box of flowers over with his car as you watched from the open window of your apartment. It was weirdly cathartic. 

He’s in the shower now, humming the lyrics to one of the songs from Secretary Kim, a song called It’s You by Jeong Sewoon (thank you, Shazam), that makes every inch of your body overflow with adoration when he hits that long note. Anyway, you’re perusing the rest of the streaming service for a movie to watch. Jungkook said you couldn’t watch Train to Busan tonight, something about it ruining the mood. So now you’re debating between a historical romcom or a modern romcom. 

Over the line, Namjoon is doing all the raging for you. “Men are trash,” he huffs one last time, before eventually letting it go. (For now.) “Hey, do you know how to cover up hickeys?” he asks suddenly, just as Jungkook reappears in the living room. His skin is glowing, looking like the hottest man alive. The window is still open, a feeble attempt to air out the smell of sex in the room, and the draft makes Jungkook shiver because his hair is still a little wet. 

“Hickeys?” you repeat, stretching a hand out for him as he rounds the couch. Jungkook takes it, places a soft smooch against your knuckles, close to your promise ring. Your heartbeat stutters just as Namjoon hums. 

“Yeah, this girl,” he says, cutting himself off with a laugh. One you recognize all too well because it’s the same one you let out when you talk about Jungkook to other people. Said boy settles close beside you, leans his cheek against your head when you snuggle into his neck. As soon as he’s there, you lose all rights to the remote, watching as Jungkook completely disregards all your searching just to click back onto Secretary Kim. He had missed a whole episode. “We went a little crazy tonight—“ you gag at the image Namjoon places in your head “—and Doyeon bites kinda hard—“

“Doyeon?” you interrupt, all mental processes coming to an abrupt halt as the name bounces around your mind. Jungkook, having mastered the art of listening in on your phone calls by now, freezes beside you. “You know a Doyeon?” 

“Yeah!” Namjoon says excitedly as you sit up. Jungkook meets your gaze, big Bambi eyes giving the performance of a lifetime, and gives your this overly innocent shrug of his shoulders that tells you more about what he does know than what he doesn’t. “Kim Doyeon. She went to your school— actually, she graduated with you and Kook.”

The world comes to a complete stop as you glare at Jungkook, his panicked features cueing you in to the fact he was aware of this, as you’d suspected. “Namjoon,” you say slowly, fist tightening around Jungkook’s phone. “Are you aware you’re fucking my best friend?” 

There’s a long silence on the other end, Namjoon presumably processing the information while Jungkook tries to calm the boiling anger within you. “He didn’t know,” Jungkook whispers, big pretty eyes on you as he tries to save Namjoon from you. 

All his efforts are in vain when Namjoon clears his throat and so eloquently says, “and you’re fucking my best friend?”

epi-epilogue

The Best Buy employee doesn’t ask questions when you and Jungkook go in to get your cracked phone screens repaired. He does, however, give Jungkook an over-exuberant sales pitch on a brand new line of computer monitors that are almost as big as the television at your house. 

You try to save him from the dangerous hands of capitalism, but the Hello Kitty bandaids decorating your neck are itchy, the skin still so tender, so sometimes it’s wiser to let him waste his money than argue otherwise. 

“Good girl,” Jungkook says as he swings your arms back and forth on your walk to the car, impressed by the fact you didn’t argue with him in a Best Buy today. “My perceptions and understanding of you in my life make me happy,” he beams, too smiley as he unlocks the doors. 

“Shut up,” you glare, painfully tearing the stupid bandaids off your neck as soon as you get in, brandishing the blossoming hickeys Jungkook had so graciously given you last night. At the sight, he bites down a smile. “You’re about to perceive and understand these fists.” 

And Jungkook smiles— he always smiles —as he leans over the center console to press his mouth against the darkened skin at the front of your neck, mindlessly rubbing his thumb over your promise ring. “Perceive this love,” he says, so cheesy it makes you gag. 

“Goddd,” you groan, pushing him away before he can see the smile on your face. “Someone get this man a Viki deal.”

Copyright © 2021, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[aliteralchicken]

i made a post about a timber engagement earlier so here’s the first fanfiction I’ve written since I was 12:

The Drakes never had a family ring.

By the time their son was thirteen the Drakes were considered new money. He wasn’t sure how long ago they stuck their fortune but he did know that before he was born and before they were married they hadn’t been especially wealthy, he knew they were more comfortable than most in Gotham but things like expensive jewelry wasn’t something they would even consider.

It wasn’t considered when Jack asked Janet to marry him.

Janet wasn’t particularly fond of jewelry, wearing stud earrings at most, getting a ring for nothing but symbolism seemed like a waste of money. She and Jack once walked by a ring shop to look at the simple rings in the window but nothing took her fancy.

But as archeologists by profession, one’s who had been known to take home artifacts from those historical sites, when Jack found a simple ring without any historical significance or monetary worth, but something they found together and Jack proposed again, this time with a ring.

She half suspected it was a ring he bought and just hid it in the sand to ‘find’.

On the way back to Gotham, the ring was carried in Jacks pocket as it was too large to be comfortable, or even stay on Janet’s finger. It wasn’t new enough to pretty or old enough to be worth anything as well as missing the jewel it had clearly once come with but Janet did find herself asking Jack to check his pockets to make sure it was safe until they reached their home.

After their wedding Janet still wasn’t fond of rings, but she cherished the two she had, the wedding band she rarely took off, though increasingly so as her and Jacks marriage became strained. The engagement ring was placed in a jewelry box that was originally a gift she only used for show, which is where it remained for long after she died.

Janet was buried in her wedding band but the ring left in the jewelry box had stayed almost equally unseen, Jack would listen to music to remember her by, but to him opening the box to see the ring seemed too personal. Tim opened the box though, most often when Jack was in his coma, remembering the story his mother told him about her ‘second proposal’.

Even when Janet and Jack fought it Tim knew it was a story she loved to tell, even if she wasn’t around that often to tell it.

After Jack had decided he wanted to ask Dana to marry him, he bought a brand new expensive engagement ring, with the large amount money he wouldn’t have for long, not that he had known back then. Unlike Janet’s, Danas ring was sized correctly and had a gemstone, a diamond specifically.

The engagement ring was one of the things that helped identify Dana’s body after the explosion that leveled Bludheaven, and like Janet she was buried only with her wedding band. Dana’s will started that if she passed her belongings would be shared amongst her husband, Tim and her sister as they saw fit. The engagement ring included.

Nothing could be shared with Jack as he had already passed and since Blüdhaven was no more, the little objects she had taken (or rather someone had taken for her) from her old life in Gotham were also gone. All that was left was the engagement ring. Her sister argued that she should get it so she could pass it onto one of her daughters, Tim had reminded her that he had been the one to organize the care facility Dana had stayed in before her death and very funeral they had just attended.

Tim was the one who ended up with the engagement ring, the diamond was fire damaged but still salvageable, the ring itself would need replacing. Tim left it as it was.

Tim kept both rings in the same jewelry box Janet originally did, over the years it was scratched and stained with some ink Tim wasn’t really sure had come from. Tim also used it as decoration.

Knowing what was in the box made him wish he’d begged Janet to stay around more when he came home from boarding school or wish he’d called Dana ‘mom’ at least once, even if he’d of lied and said he did it on accident.

When Bernard asked him if he wanted to get married, not a proposal just a question, Tim was hesitant. He asked if he could think about it. They talked about how Jack and Janet had fought, how quickly Jack and Dana had fallen in love, how Bernards parents were very similar people but it seemed like they were more co workers than married and even how Bruce had been left at the alter.

Tim told Bernard if he asked him to marry him he would say yes, he just needed a bit more time. He knew Bernard was good at waiting, and he knew Bernard would wait for him.

A year later Tim was back looking at the jewelry box, he didn’t want Bernard to wait any longer.

He picked up Janet’s ring, a ring from his life before robin and when he was just starting out as a hero, unaware of the tragedies ahead, and rubbed his thumb over the place the gemstone was missing, something his mother would do when telling the story of how she got it.

He put it back and gingerly held up Dana’s, a ring from when he had experience from robin and experience being retired. The band itself was one knock away from snapping, but the burned diamond could be fixed with a good jeweler.

It was also a ring from the time he met Bernard.

One ring needing a gemstone and the other needing a band, both Tim’s from times when he was and wasn’t a vigilante, both rings from family that he loved.

Tim took the diamond to be restored and the band to get cleaned at a well known jeweler Selena had recommended. He probably should have done it sooner.

The jeweler assumed he had wanted the diamond placed in the other ring. Looking the diamond and the band, now a single ring, he wasn’t sure if he’d assumed incorrectly. They had fit perfectly, almost like fate.

The Drakes had never had a family ring, or any family heirloom, but traditions have to start somewhere, so he bought a blue ring box to keep the new tradition safe.

He kept it safe until he and Bernard were stood at the edge of an empty pier, the sky was filled with stars, rare in the Gotham smog and the moonlight reflected on the water.

He took out his blue ring box from his pocket and looked over to Bernard who had pulled out a matching red one, neither of them had the chance to get on one knee, neither of them even asked the question.

Tim slipped the diamond ring over Bernards finger first, though fate or some miracle the ring fit perfectly. Tim didn’t believe in fate no matter how many things seemed to line up, but he was open to the idea of someone watching over him.

When Bernard in turn had has slipped a ring on his finger, one with a small colored gemstone Tim was confident Bernard would tell him the specific reason for getting him later, that small belief in someone watching out for him grew a little stronger.

And on the day they married, the day the ring on Bernards finger became a family ring because now they legally were, a fact that made a little giddy every time he heard it, Tim decided that maybe in a world with so much tragedy and loss, believing someone was watching out of him wasn’t the most ridiculous thing to believe in.

And if that belief had lead him to purposely leave an empty chair or two in the rows of the isle and at the head table it could be a belief that he could hold onto, and maybe like how Janet had told him about her ‘second engagement’ he could have someone to tell about his ‘double engagement’.

He knew it would be a story he would enjoy to tell.

[ijustwant2write]

Reconnect-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @peakystitches​)

Masterlist

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy​ @jenepleurepasbaby​ @amirahiddleston​ @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff​ @mzcrazy2​

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! May i request an either tommy or finn shelby x reader? (Whicheverr one u think suits best) for this prompt i found: character A and B have been in a longterm relationship and nothing can get in between, until one day something does and they drift away. But then they reconnect emotionally and everything feels like the first time again (first kiss, first meal together etc) 🙏🏼💜 i love ur writing thank u’

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader, Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, finance issues, drinking, fluff

                                    *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Finn, is that you?" I called out from our bedroom as I heard the front door open. I tensed up when I didn't hear a reply, only to let out a sigh when I heard him giggling.

He was drunk again, it happened almost every week now. Tommy would have given him something important to do for the gang, and whether or not Finn succeeded with that task, he would go out and celebrate with his mates. I would sometimes tag along if I wasn't tired from the week of working, but after seeing our finances, I realised we needed to stop acting like teenagers and start saving wisely.

"Hello my gorgeous girl." he slurred out as he entered the room.

"Hello Finn." I replied as I received a sloppy kiss to my forehead.

He flopped down beside me in bed, taking the book out of my hands and throwing it to the floor. Finn wrapped his arms around me, snuggling into my lap. I took off his hat, stroking back his hair. He was cold from the brisk walk home, causing me to shiver.

“You should have come out tonight." he said.

"I got off work late."

"He kept you again?"

"No, I decided to stay."

"Why? You always say you're tired."

"I'm tired because I'm picking up extra shifts and hours so that we can start saving up for a house."

"I've told you, we don't need to worry about that. Business is good."

"Finn, we're not going to be given the money. We have to earn it."

"Tommy will help us."

"He might help but he won't give us a lot. And even if he did hand us a house, we've got to have enough money for the bills, furniture-"

"It will be fine."

"Finn, we've not even had our wedding yet!"

We had been engaged for half a year. We were wanting to be married sooner, but problems arose with the Peaky Blinders it distracted us both from it, especially since our lives were in danger. I desperately wanted to have enough money for the wedding and house, though it looked like it was going to be one or the other at this point.

"What's wrong with the flat?" Finn now sat up.

"Did you seriously ask me that question? There's only so much I can do to this dump to make it look somewhat liveable. It just doesn't feel like home."

"We'll get the money. Don't worry. Look, look," he took my hands in his,"we will get a house. I promise. And believe me, I want to marry you as soon as I can, there needs to be another ring on that finger. And I need to see my name at the end of yours."

I stupidly believed him. Those adoring eyes I once trusted had lied to me. Finn kept his promise for a week at max, soon breaking it. I didn't mind him going out with friends, we both needed to socialise, I just disagreed with the amount of times he was out and the amount of drinks he was buying each night. He would always offer to get the next round, and although he was a Shelby, the discounts didn't make much difference at the end of the night. I decided I had to go with him to ensure that our money wasn't being poured away, struggling to stay awake for those long nights, and making work even harder every day. It was impossible to keep an eye on him like that.

Usually Finn would tell me if he was going out that night so I wouldn't worry. That stopped too. My mind was never at ease. How did I know he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere after a job gone wrong? Or what if he was trapped somewhere by a rival gang? I could only rest when he returned, which he always luckily did. I pretended to be asleep, trying to not push him away as he slipped his arms around me, cuddling me for the rest of the night. My patience began to grow thin. I was too scared to speak up about it, worried that we would just end up having an argument. However, I knew we would have to bring it up soon, because our money was only disappearing instead of increasing.

One morning when I was leaving for work, I noticed that the drawer we locked our savings away in was slightly ajar, meaning someone had unlocked it and stupidly left it open. Of course it had to be Finn, no one had broken in during the night. My eyes widened when I saw how much he had taken, enraged that he would think me so foolish. Why would he take the money without asking? What was he using it for?

As I stormed towards the shop, I heard whooping from men in a car further up the street. My face turned into a deep frown when I recognised the car, managing to catch a glimpse of the people in it. They hadn't seen me, and I had to make sure my eyes were deceiving me.

I didn't care about the looks on me as I burst through into the shop, making a beeline for Polly's office. I harshly knocked on the door, entering when she called me.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" she asked, a lit cigarette in hand.

"Where's Finn?"

"Off out with his brothers, why?"

"Where are they going?"

"To the races."

I scoffed, placing a hand on my head in defeat.

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

"He told me he would be in the office all day today."

"So? Things change."

"No, he specifically told me that. I never even asked about it. He made a point meaning he didn't want to risk me waltzing in. That means he's hiding something."

"(Y/N), they're only going to bet on horses today. They're mingling."

"They're betting today?!"

She stood, putting a hand on her hip."What am I missing here?"

"Pol, he's using money that we don't have! I need a car, I need to get to him."

"Look, even if my nephew is being the biggest idiot, it's a bad idea to go there."

"Why?"

Her eyes widened."Don't snap at me young lady."

"I'm sorry, I just, I just know he's going to be stupid with what little money we have at the minute."

Polly was silent for a few seconds, and I didn't know if she was just staring me out, trying to make me leave. Perhaps she didn't think it was anything to worry over. But it was to me. She surprised me when she went into one of her drawers, pulling out a set of keys.

"Come on. I'll get one of the girls to call your work, say you're sick."

I tightly clasped my hands together as Polly drove. I was furious, trying to think of what to say to Finn when I got there. He stole our money. He went behind my back, gambling away the money we worked hard to earn. I had never said it, but Finn had it much easier than I did. For one, he worked with family, and although I liked my job, the boss could sometimes be an arsehole; second, he earned a lot more than me, so he was the bigger breadwinner between us, but I worked longer hours. Yes, he was in a gang meaning he had more days where his life was under threat, but he seemed to be having a jolly good time anyway. Really, it wouldn't have mattered who worked longer or harder, or who earned more, it was still our money to spend on our house.

As soon as Polly parked up, I was straight out of the car. She quickly followed grabbing my arm and warning me to not get lost in the crowds. I couldn't make a scene, especially since there could be potential business partners or enemies about. I refrained from rolling my eyes, knowing she was right but also knowing that I would find it extremely hard to not scream at Finn.

Polly guided me to where the men would be, ignoring the shoving and shouting. I wished for her to walk quicker. We swiftly entered the posher boxes, almost stopped by a doorman until his accomplice shut him up. I even heard him whisper 'That's Polly Gray you idiot.', the one time I was glad we had a reputation. She only paused to scan the room for the boys but I spotted them first. Quickly moving past her, I couldn't stop my fists from clenching, seeing Finn joyfully drinking and laughing with his brothers only added fire to my fury.

"Finn!" I snapped, quickly catching his attention.

"(Y/N)?" he exclaimed, struggling to stand and clattering the plates and glasses on the table."W-what are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from spending our money like a fucking idiot! Where is it?"

"Oh, Finn boy is in the doghouse." John chuckled.

"Shut up!" I fiercely pointed at him.

"Where's what?" Finn brought me back.

"Our money!"

"I told you, you do this outside." Polly warned, shoving Finn in that direction, and I knew I had to follow him.

Luckily, we were left alone. Finn continued on, finding someplace we would be alone. Once we were in the clear, the distant roar of the crowds covering our conversation, I saw him sigh quietly, running a hand down his face when he realised what was coming.

"Where's the money Finn?" I asked, calmer but with a mean tone.

"Let me explain first.”

"Explain how you took our money without asking? How you just waltzed out this morning without consulting me?"

"Tommy said that there was a good chance, a very good chance that this horse would win, and I thought it would help us if we put our money on it. Imagine how much we'll have if it wins!"

"If it wins Finn, if! You're gambling our money, why would you do something like that?"

"Because you went on about not having enough money! And here I am trying to help!"

My mouth dropped open in shock."You really don’t see the problem here."

"No, actually, I don't." he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Finn, you stole money from the drawer! You then go behind my back and bet it away. Have you thought about what we'll do if that horse loses?"

"But it won't, Tommy said."

"And what if Tommy is wrong this time? Also, don't pin this on your brother, I know he hasn't even suggested this idea."

"I'm not-urgh!" Finn groaned."Why don't you trust me?"

"I can't trust a gamble Finn. I don't think you realise how many nights I've spent lying awake, worried that we'll never have enough for our own home, and thinking that you don't even care anymore."

"Of course I care. This is why I've bet the money."

"How is this not getting in your head?"

"(Y/N)," he took my hands in his, but I couldn't even look at him,"in a few minutes we will hear them announce the winner, and we will start jumping for joy when we realise how much money we're going to get back, and we're going to be so much closer to getting our home."

"Finn, I desperately want to believe that. But even if we do win, you're in deep trouble." I took my hands away from him, turning around. I couldn't even look at my own fiance.

On queue, we heard a man come over the intercom, it was muffled to me but I knew Finn was listening intensely. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched for his reaction, turning around fully when I saw his expression. We had lost. We lost all that money.

"How could you be so fucking stupid?!" I screamed at him, throwing slaps onto his chest."Why couldn't you just listen to me? I don't understand why you had to lie to me Finn!"

I broke down crying, shoving him away from me. My sobs were loud but I didn't care. Finn could watch, see how much he upset me. My heart sank at the thought of it all gone, Finn had left scarcely any money in the drawer back at the flat.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)." Finn pathetically said.

"You know how you always go on about your family never trusting you enough for the big jobs? That you never get to go out with them and help? This is why. Because you do things like this, you fuck everything up Finn. Fuck!" I wiped away my tears, even though more spilled out."You know I've always stuck beside you, but this is the last straw Finn. I can't be with someone who doesn't want to put effort into their future."

"What are you saying? (Y/N), I can fix this. I promise I'll get the money back, I'll-"

"How? That took us so long to build that up. And you were spending our money almost every night on useless drinking. I can't Finn, I can't live like that anymore."

He ducked his head, and I almost wanted him to say something. When he didn't, I knew what I had to do.

I took a deep breath before speaking."I'm going home. I suggest you stay at Polly's tonight."

"Let me take you home-"

"No!"

"What's going on?" Tommy suddenly appeared, he, his brothers and Polly approaching.

"Your nephew, your brother, just gave away almost all of our money betting on a horse. Not only that, but he took the money without telling me. That was money for a house." I angrily explained.

"Is that true Finn?"

Finn shamefully nodded.

"We can get you your money back (Y/N)."

"It's not about that Tom. He's lied to me. He promised me he wouldn't spend our money every week, yet he did. And then he takes our money without asking me about it first."

"I'll fix it (Y/N), I promise I will." Finn was begging at this point.

"Another promise that you're bound to break. I've had enough today."

"Let's get you home love." Polly said, putting a stop to this argument as she stepped forward, taking me under her arm.

Finn didn't come home that night. I didn't sleep. I was sat at the tiny dining table, staring at the ring on my finger, wondering what to do. It broke my heart to think about leaving him, but it also broke my heart thinking about how reckless he had been. Did I really want to be marrying someone who acted like this? Would he mature? My heart wanted to believe he would, but my mind kept telling me that today confirmed he wouldn't. That was one of the worst nights of my life.

                                     *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I couldn't stand this job any longer. But it was the only thing keeping me alive. It was crappy work, the pay was just above minimum, enough for me to buy food, pay my rent and have the tiniest amount left over. Saving up money was hard when it was just you. Even after two years, I didn't have enough to consider looking at places of my own, or with less roommates. It was exhausting keeping up with these girls I lived with, there were 6 of us altogether. It was a big change when I moved away from Small Heath.

"You ready (Y/N)?" one of my roommates called out to me as I finished applying my lipstick.

"Just a second!" I replied, checking myself in the mirror.

It was the rare occasion that I was going out with them, the one time we could all go out together at all. I was looking forward to a few drinks, and although that sounded hypocritical, I realised that I had to have a night or two in at least a month to relieve myself of the stress I put upon myself.

We arrived at the small club we always went to, it had the cheapest drinks this side of town. We all shivered in the cold weather, walking as fast as we could to make it to the club. The warmth was very welcome, as well as the loud music that drew us further in. It was the usual routine, a few of us grab a table, the others get the drinks in, then we would all make our way to the dance floor. Hours passed, and I had to get away from the heat coming from the dancing, stepping back towards our table to get a drink. I saw my roommate stumbling in the direction of the bar, rolling my eyes as I went to help her, perhaps getting a drink whilst I was there. However, once I got closer, I stared at the man she was starting to flirt with.

"Isaiah?" I said as I got closer.

"(Y/N)!" he smiled, bringing me in for a hug.

"You two know each other?" my roommate asked, looking disappointed.

"He's an old friend. Just that, nothing else."

Isaiah let me go."How long has it been? Two years?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, two years. What are you doing here?"

"Business. Nothing dangerous though, you girls are still in for a good night. Especially you if you're good." he winked to my roommate.

"Is he...is he here?" my voice suddenly went shaky, and I felt almost completely sober.

Isaiah's playful nature dropped."Uh, he is. He's really misses you (Y/N). Hasn't even looked at another girl since you left. He's just not been the same." I wasn't sure how to reply.

"I can't not tell him I saw you. Imagine if he found out, he would be so upset with me."

"I know. I wouldn't want to hurt your friendship."

"Maybe you should see him. It might do you both some good."

"Or the opposite."

"He still loves you. Even if you don't feel the same, it could bring closure. But I know you (Y/N), I can tell what you're thinking."

"You were always annoying like that."

"He's out front, in the corridor. That's all I'm going to say."

I looked at him for a few seconds, trying to make my mind up."Well, this one is a handful, just so you know."

"I think I can handle her." Isaiah smirked.

"I was warning her about you."

I giggled at his reaction, walking away and leaving him in his natural habitat of flirting. But as soon as I turned around, my stomach dropped, nerves filling up my entire body. He was here. I hadn't seen him for two years, though I thought about him everyday. Would he look different? Did I look different? What was he going to say? What was I going to say? My brain didn't want to think of any words, maybe I was about to babble absolute nonsense to him.

Upon seeing him, my throat tightened, the cool air slapping me in the face; oh, now I was sober. He hadn't noticed yet, leaning up against a wall, hands in his pockets. Wow, he had changed. His boyish charm was still there, yet he had matured into a handsome young man. It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. I was just happy that he would be seeing me in my finer clothes rather than catching me after work.

Urging my feet to move, I almost sighed at how small my steps were. I really was scared. Isaiah had said reassuring things, yet I couldn't even walk up to him. It was too late to back out now, especially when he finally looked up at me. I froze on the spot, not knowing what to do. Finn seemed the same way.

"(Y/N)." he said, I only just heard it.

"Hello."

Hello? Really, that's all I could come up with?

He pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand in front of me, though not too close."I...I can't believe you're here."

"I could say the same about you."

"This is where you've been living then."

I nodded."It's not too bad. I mean, I'm on a night out."

"Who are you with?"

I knew he was wondering if I was with a man."My roommates, I live with five other girls."

"Oh, that's a lot."

"Yeah, it's the only place I could afford."

"I hope it's nice."

"I shouldn't complain. A lot better than other places."

We both knew we were making an awful attempt at small talk. I was sure he had so much to say like I did, we just didn't want to dump it on each other in case the other ran away. It was like we were teenagers again, awkwardly trying to think of something to fill the dreaded silence.

"I really want to talk about us (Y/N)." Finn said.

"You do?"

"I...I just have so much to say to you. I can't do it now, but what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow, um, yes, yes tomorrow works for me. It's the weekend, so I'm not working."

He smiled slightly."OK, good. I'll come get you. Um, I need your address."

"Oh, here." I dug around in my purse, thankful there was a folded up tissue and a pen, it was good to be prepared. I wrote down my address, handing it to him.

"I'll pick you up at one. I would want it to be earlier, you just never know what time you'll be back with this sort of thing."

"I understand Finn, I did live this with you once."

I barely slept, even when we stumbled in at three in the morning. Luckily I hadn't seen Finn, Isaiah or any other Peaky Blinder that evening, no doubt settling business behind the scenes. Despite the lack of sleep, I was wide awake the next morning, up before everyone else who were nursing their hangovers, trying on multiple outfits in a desperate attempt to look nice, but not as if I put too much effort in. The clock was rolling onto one o'clock, and my heart was beating much faster than usual. I was about to make my way downstairs when something glistened on my small vanity. Should I take it? Yes, I would.

Finn knocked on the door, and I waited a few seconds before opening it. We smiled as we greeted each other, not going in for a hug or kiss on the cheek, something I was worried about. That was the first hurdle jumped over.

"How was your evening?" Finn struck up a conversation as we walked further into town.

"Much better than yours I presume?" I smirked. He chuckled."Yeah, didn't exactly get to enjoy the music. Small fight, nothing we couldn't handle."

It was strange hearing about Blinder business again."Well I'm glad you're all safe."

"I thought we could go out for lunch, saw a nice place round here."

"Oh, that would be lovely."

"We don't have to, if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no, no, it's not that. It's just a lovely thing for you to do."

We both bashfully smiled, luckily the restaurant was just around the corner. I had expected nothing less when we walked into the fancy place, not because I thought I deserved it, but because Finn wouldn't be seen anywhere else. His clothes were even more tailored now than they had been the last I saw him, indicating that the gang had been doing well, more money was coming in. We both immediately picked up our menus as we sat, hoping someone would speak first. Our eyes glanced over the top of them, it was as if we were on our first date again, only this time in a better establishment.

"You look beautiful." he said, still hiding part of his face.

"Thank you." I blushed.

"I'll never forget what you wore when I picked you up for our first date. That blue dress you just bought, with a matching purse, and those heels that you hadn't practiced walking in. Well, you used that as an excuse to latch into my arm all night."

I smiled, placing down my menu."It was a good plan, wasn't it? And I did struggle in those heels, I just didn't want to embarrass myself."

He copied me."I liked holding your hand all night."

"What a sweet sentiment."

"I mean it. And I mean this date. That didn't sound right, but...what I'm trying to say is that I want to make it all up to you."

"You do?"

"Yes! I really didn't expect you to leave. I mean I did, but I didn't want to believe that. I didn't want to believe that I had been so selfish that I couldn't even see how much I had hurt you." 

“That was the hardest decision I ever made. Most days I battle with myself whether I made the right choice. All night I kept making deals with myself. If you came back, I would hear you out, and if it was good enough for me I would stay. But then you didn’t, so I said to myself ‘Give him another hour.’. An hour went by, and I said the same thing to myself. That went on for the whole evening until I found myself angrily packing my things. Even then, I sat by door on top of my suitcase for another hour or so.”

“I thought you just got up and left. I didn’t realise how long you waited for me.” he sighed into his hands.“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

I could tell he was full of regret. Although it sounded sadistic, I was glad that he was upset when reflecting on our past relationship, it meant he realised his mistake. On the other hand, I hated seeing him sad. I took his hands away from his face, hesitantly reaching into my handbag to pull out the engagement ring I kept.

His eyes widened.“You still have that? I looked everywhere for it when you left, guessed you took it to sell.”

“I won’t lie, that was my intention at first. But it meant too much to me. It was like selling a piece of my soul. I kept it hidden, I didn’t want to risk any of the girls seeing it, they would just ask too many questions.”

I kept my eye on the beautiful ring as I spoke, slowly twirling it around to catch it twinkling in the light.

"I had such a hard time picking that out. I knew what you wanted, but I had to get it right for you. I'm so glad you kept it."

"I did try to sell it. I was stood outside of a shop for ten minutes debating with myself. It would have helped a lot for the deposit on the room, but I couldn't do it."

We were silent, both staring at the ring. We used to do that a lot actually. Finn would take my hand and hold it up as we laid in bed together, both giggling as we watched it glisten like it was in present times, before squealing at the thought of us being married to each other. I constantly fiddled with it when he was off on business, a habit which never wore off, even now; whenever I was nervous or worried, I would automatically do the same action, just without the ring.

A waiter awkwardly interrupted us, and I hurriedly put the ring back in my bag, sharing an embarrassed smile with Finn as we ordered. Once he was gone, I quietly sighed, looking out of the window. We were in such a nice part of town, so many ladies in beautiful dresses and men in smart suits strolling around.

"Are you...are you OK for money?" Finn boldly asked.

I was a little shocked by that.

"I don't mean anything by it. I just want to make sure you're OK, I would hate for you to be struggling, if you were."

"Uh, no, no I'm fine actually. It's not as generous as my old wage but it keeps me alive, I can live with the bare necessities."

I could see him itching to say something else, to keep the conversation going. I wasn't sure if we could go back to the serious topic we had before. However, I also wanted to bring it back up, it felt like we needed to talk about us.

"How's the family?" That's all I could come up with.

"They're fine. Everyone is the same. Well, they're not, they're a bit more serious nowadays."

"They weren't in the first place?"

He smiled."I suppose they were. Tension is the right word, tensions have been rising. Tommy's taking on a lot more, Polly knows all these secrets that no one else does, Ada is rebelling against anything Tommy says, Linda is still annoying, Esme and John have been popping kids out left, right and centre. Arthur is still crazy."

"Sounds like business as usual to me."

"They miss you too."

"Do they?"

"Yeah. Almost as much as me."

I cast my eyes down as butterflies rose in my stomach.

"I heard nothing else for the next few weeks after you left. They all told me what an idiot I was, that I was an extremely reckless, stupid and immature boy, and that I had let the best thing in my life get away from me. And they were right. I knew all of that already."

"I...I don't really know what to say right now."

"You don't have to say anything, let's just enjoy this meal, no more of that talk."

The nerves making my stomach flip built at that. What if we had nothing else to talk about? What if it was too weird to dive into our separate lives? I didn't want to sit across my ex-fiance, painfully and politely smiling through forced conversation.

The spark was still there.

When the waiter had returned with our drinks, we were already deep in talk about what had been happening in our personal everyday life. We were non stop, even as we ate through dinner. The waiters had trouble catching our attention each time they checked on us. I was deep in those eyes again, the ones I always dreamed of seeing. We were laughing hysterically, not at all acting how we should have in that establishment (there were a few eye rolls from other patrons). As if time had gone by in a second, the bill was slipped towards Finn, though I still reached into my purse.

"Are you mad? No, put your money away, I'm not taking it." Finn stated as he carelessly threw down some notes, surprisingly taking my hand in his and guiding me out of the restaurant.

I was tense as we walked, and I saw a flash of realisation in Finn's eyes as we made it outside. Both looking down at our interlocked fingers, Finn broke away, clearing his throat.

"Sorry, force of habit."

Hesitating, I smiled up at him, lacing our hands together again."These are new heels I'm breaking in. Need help walking in them."

He chuckled, pulling me closer as we walked down the street. We were silent, feeling like kids in love again. I couldn't deny that my feelings were still strong for Finn, I missed him dearly. At first, part of me had been wary of all this, wondering if he really had good intentions, or just thought he could get a quick shag in from an ex before he left; but the effort he went through, the things we spoke about, trying to heal old wounds, Finn had matured and he was wanting to fix this. I wanted to fix this, my heart was aching for my old life with him. 

“We’re not done yet, are we?” I timidly asked.

“Not unless you want it to be.”

I instantly shook my head.“No, I’d like to stay out for longer.”

“Even though you’re struggling in your heels?”

I smirked.“I know a nice place we can sit down.”

I took him to the local park, it had a huge lake with benches dotted around, luckily it wasn’t busy, there was somehow a hint of privacy here. We sat down close to each other, hands still entwined. 

“You still hungry?” I asked.

“Hm?”

I dug into my purse, producing a bag of sweets I had bought the previous day. I laughed as his eyes lit up, taking one without even asking. I took one too, reminiscing on how we used to do the same thing as kids. It seemed he was thinking about it too.

“Just like the old days.” Finn said.

“We spent way too much money on sweets back then. It’s a wonder we still have our teeth.”

 “Wish I got out of that spending habit. We could be married and in our new house by now.”

“So you never wanted to move on? You didn’t give in to those girls wanting to be with a Peaky Blinder?”

“Never. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even fathom being with anyone else, it was always you (Y/N). Did you date?”

“No, I felt exactly the same. Which is why I was angry at myself for a long time. I was supposed to be upset with you, not still in love.”

His head whipped round to face me.“You still love me?”

My mouth was still open, unsure how to answer. It seemed I didn’t have to as Finn leaned in, placing on hand on my cheek as we kissed. Instinctively I kissed back, placing my hands on him where I could, hearing the bag of sweets fall to the ground and spill its contents. This kiss was needy, the type of kiss you gave your partner when you had missed them, when they had been away for a long time; and although we had our hands on each other, our touch was still gentle.

“Get the ring.” Finn breathed out, our lips still almost touching.

I carelessly got it for him, heart beating extremely fast. He took it from me, pecking me on the lips one last time before standing up. He straightened out his suit, took a deep breath and got down on one knee. I was just as emotional the first time he did it.

“(Y/N), I know I messed up everything in the past, I was careless when I should have been supportive and helped to build our future. I learnt from those mistakes, and I really, really want to go back to how we were. I need you (Y/N), I love you so much. There aren’t enough words to express how much love I have for you. Will you marry me?”

I didn’t need to think about my answer. I blurted out a yes, waiting for him to slide the ring back on my finger before throwing myself onto him. We stumbled back onto the ground, our arms around each other as we laughed and cried. I believed him this time, I truly believed him. He put in the effort to show me his changes, he wanted to fix everything. I wanted things back to the way they were with my man, and we were back to building our future and living the rest of our lives together.

[aidenknow]

At this point this made me want to question you; are you the reason you stressed Morpha out? Do you know how pathetic it sounds when you said that you are doing in malice? Where was the time you believe in people doing in “good faith”? You aren’t doing in good faith it seems.

Alt accounts? Those alt accounts you are referring to are multiple people with fully functional lives, unlike you who use multiple accounts to stalk and bother me and other people. If those were alt accounts, they would’ve have the same typing style, art style and talking style as me. Yours are obvious, especially since you have the tendency to have mistake in your spellings, make obnoxious comments and poorly constructed points to people you despise or against you.

Your old friend? Didn’t he dislikes you the fact you were exposed for being apart of a proshipper-themed acc? You said you are an anti-anti who doesn’t do harassment, but based on my observation from witnessing online, it really proves the point that proshippers/“anti-antis” are being hypocritical when they said that they are “anti-harassment”. What you are doing since the existence of your callout alt acc is straight up harassment. And because of that, he doesn’t want to associate with you. Maybe you might also be the reason he felt paranoid. Who knows it could possibly be other factors that he was paranoid. You should stop mentioning him every time I talk about the fact I am stalked and harassed by multiple alt accounts made by you. It’s like you use him as to shield and deflect your obnoxious behaviour. Not a good look on you

How about you do a reality check on your ego if that’s what you want other people to see because at this point, not only people see this situation going on becoming ridiculous, you also show your true colours not only on Tumblr, a lot of the people outside Tumblr know how bothersome and toxic you are to others. Someone DMed me for my wellbeing after you made 2 anon asks and even a tag to your callout post to them. Why are you harassing someone who is known to like almost everyone’s posts they see on Tumblr. You are throwing everyone under the bus just because they are against you, and it doesn’t have to be about me

I suspected that this was how you did to Morpha too. She was the person who wanted to solve the case for me eventhough I don’t need help.

Also, if this harassment and stalking drives someone to commit suicide, do not blame it on me. You already mocked someone’s suicide and their friends who witnessed the suicide for contributing in someone’s research in doxxing their location. You should be ashamed of yourself if you ever go to someone’s funeral or heard someone’s passing. I don’t believe you’ll ever show empathy to anyone since you only go out of your way for your own gain.

Have some shame and humiliation instead of arguing people online. If you feel shameless, be a politician for your own country. There’s a much bigger issues going on to deal with instead of sticking to your dumb internet drama

From now on and I will repeat myself again, I will block multiple alt accounts if you ever kept bothering and stalking me. Since you become an obsessive attention seeker and I do not want to engage any negative attention from you. A very hostile and toxic person shouldn’t be given any attention

Like I said, if you come here with numerous alt accs at me I will immediately block you without hesitation. And believe it or not, you’re doing it on spite with malicious intent

[randomshyperson]

Wanda Maximoff X Reader - The Parent Trap

Summary: When the identical twins Billy and Tommy Maximoff are sent to the same summer camp, they hatch a plan to get their mothers back together by switching places. Or, The Parent Trap AU. / AO3

Warnings: Fluff and a bit of language.

Words:  4.229K

Notes: I want to know if anyone likes this, please tell me your opinion ;) And good reading! By the way, gif is not mine!

Part Two

The whole thing looked suspicious to you. Billy was acting too strange. He didn't run and throw himself on the couch when he got back from camp, or throw his shoes around the house like he always did. He also didn't pick up the basketball reference you made to him in the car. At first you thought maybe it was puberty. But he told you he was tired from the trip, and you messed up his hair, and told him to go get something to eat. When your dog Krypto didn't recognize him, you told him that he needed to change his clothes, because he must be smelling the camp.

Running the vineyard was taking all your time, but you were hoping to spend some time with your boy now that he was back.

You were surprised when your fiancée showed up at your house unannounced. You were trying to find a way to tell Billy about Tabitha. You met her when Billy was at camp, and you hired her as a publicist for the vineyard. And even you yourself were surprised when she asked you out. Many dates later, you were engaged to be married. You tried not to think about it so much, and to remember Tabitha's words, saying that Billy would be happy to have two mother figures, that she would help you take care of him because she had a freer schedule than yours. Honestly, you were surprised that she was in love with you.

Natasha, your best friend and housekeeper, gave you an incredulous and debauched look when you told her about your engagement, but didn't question you. You imagined that she just wanted to make fun of you.

Tabitha told you that you should tell her about the engagement right away, like ripping off a band aid. You were trying to find the right moment.

When you and Billy went out riding, you decided to tell him, hoping that he would be happy. You were a little nervous, finding it strange when he didn't even remember your usual camping trip before the end of the summer, but you thought he was just distracted.

- Hey honey, I want to tell you something. - You said, and he looked away from the vineyard in front of him and looked at you curiously. - What do you think of Tabitha?

- Like what, Mom? - He replies. - Your publicist? Your friend?

- No, dear, just what you think of her as a person. - You clarify a bit awkwardly.

Billy thought for a few seconds.

- Well, she's pretty, has good teeth and nice hair. She can spell. - He replied. - But honestly, Mom, she's a complete stranger to me. Why do you want my opinion?

You hesitated for a moment, and swallowed your nervousness. 

- Well, Billy, I'll tell you why. - You said with a trembling voice. - Because believe it or not...

- Race to the house, Mom! - He shouted, interrupting you and riding away at high speed.

You choked in surprise, as you shouted that you were trying to tell him something, but he kept riding away. You mumbled to yourself, as you rode after him.

When you finally reached the house, Natasha was crying. You ran up to her to ask if she was all right, but she just smiled, saying that they were tears of happiness, that Billy was so big and healthy. You frowned in confusion, but you were too distracted in telling your son that you were getting married to think much about it. And then Natasha left the room saying that she was going to prepare a special lunch for you both, and you sat with Billy on the sofa.

- Honey, we need to talk now. - You told him, trying to sound serious and gentle at the same time. Billy just nodded. - Honey, I want to know how you feel about Tabatha being part of the family.

- Part of our family?

- Yes.

- I think it's incredible. - He said, and you felt a wave of relief wash over your body.

- Really?

- Totally, Mom! It's a dream! - he said excitedly. - I always wanted a big sister!

It was as if a bucket of cold water had fallen on your head.

- Honey, I don't... I think you've got it wrong.

- No, mommy! I love it! - He says. - We're going to adopt Tabitha! That's so sweet, Mom.

- No, honey. - You deny it flatly. - I'm not adopting her. I'm marrying her.

It takes a second, and then Billy lets out a mixed exclamation of surprise and anger, getting up from the couch.

- Marry her? That's crazy! - he shouts. - How can you marry someone who is young enough to be my sister?

And then he starts shouting in a language you think is Russian as he paces in circles around the room, and you raise your eyebrows in surprise.

- Honey, calm down! - you ask, pulling him gently towards you. - And since when do you speak Russian?

- I learned it at camp. - He answers quickly, and then assumes an almost hurt expression. - You can't get married, Mama! It will ruin everything!

And he lets go of your grip, rushing out of the room. You let out a sigh of dissatisfaction, thinking about how it all went wrong, and throw yourself on the sofa. Natasha looks at you from the kitchen door.

- That was shameful. - She comments.

- He thought I was going to adopt her. - You retort with your eyes closed and your head against the pillows.

- That's exactly why it was embarrassing. - She scoffs, laughing softly. You don't answer, beginning to feel a slight headache forming.

You barely have time to absorb the whole conversation, when you hear a radio noise in the distance. But a few minutes, and Tabitha enters the room, sitting on your lap.

- Hello, sweetie. - She said - You look stressed.

And then she kissed you, wrapping both hands around your neck. You really just wanted to go back to bed. You let out an unsatisfied sigh, interrupting the kiss. Tabitha looked at you curiously.

- I told Billy about our wedding. - You said, and she seemed excited.

- And how was it?

- Horrible! - you said, upset. - He was furious. He yelled at me in Russian, and I didn't even know he spoke Russian!

Tabitha let out a giggle.

- Take it easy, sweetie. - She said, rubbing her hands on your shoulders. - It's a very common reaction. I'd be worried if he didn't have a reaction like that. - She argues, and begins to deposit kisses against your collarbone. You appreciate the touch, even if they don't really affect you that much. - Let me talk to him. He needs to know that I'm not an enemy.

You let out a low grumble, running your right hand over your eyes.

- Okay, Tabi. - You agree. - But be gentle.

She giggles mischievously, giving you a kiss before getting up. You sink your face into your hands as she leaves, feeling tired.

It's been a few days since you told Billy about your marriage. He hasn't mentioned it again, but he is treating you normally. Tabitha told you that the conversation went well, and you believed her.

Now you are packing your bags, getting ready to go for a weekend in the Hamptons, where Tabitha's parents, whom you haven't met yet, will be staying. You have a strange feeling, as if something is going to happen, but you can't tell what it is. 

And when you drive to the hotel, you sit with Billy in the back seat while Natasha drives, and you share some snacks. Billy also begs you to take Krypto, and you agree while ruffling his hair.

Tabitha's parents seem nice, you think. They greet you quite enthusiastically, and you are embarrassed when Tabitha slips her hand to your buttocks for a moment when you hug. 

After you check in, you and Tabitha say goodbye to her parents temporarily as they leave toward the bar, and you both make your way to the elevator to your rooms, with Billy and Natasha following a bit behind as they try to get Krypto to obey. Tabitha is particularly needy today, and you wish she wouldn't cling to you so much in such a crowded place, feeling uncomfortable. 

As you press the elevator button for your floor, while Tabitha snuggles up to you, you look toward the lobby and widen your eyes in surprise. Your ex-wife, Wanda Maximoff is standing in the center of the lobby, and she waves to you just before the elevator door closes completely. You think you are hallucinating, and wonder if you have finally lost your mind.

Tabitha continues kissing your collarbone, but you are completely disconnected from reality. When you arrive at your room, she pulls you inside, trying to take off your clothes.

- No, darling. I'm sorry. - You deny it, pushing her hands away as you try to think of a plausible excuse. - I need to see if everything is okay with Billy and Nat, okay? We'll see about that later.

Tabitha pouts, but lets you go, strutting sensuously into the bathroom. You smile awkwardly, then leave the room. 

You look around as if you're looking for someone, and you really are. And then you bump into Billy in the hallway.

- Hey baby! - You greet him by bending down to his height and putting your hands on his shoulders. - I'm going to go to the lobby. Do me a favor and look after Tabitha for me, will you?

- All right, Mom. 

- Oh, honey. - You say hesitantly. - How do I look? Do I look good?

Billy smiles, giving you a thumbs-up.

- You look beautiful, Mom.

- Okay, okay. - You say clumsily, and mess up his hair before heading back toward the elevator.

When you reach the lobby, you look around, trying to locate Wanda around. And you're startled to see Billy again.

- Honey, I thought you were going to keep Tabitha company. - You say, and he looks slightly nervous.  But you're not really paying attention.

- I will, Mom. - He says, looking around quickly. - I'm just trying to find her.

- Okay. - You mumble without really listening to him. - I'll walk around here, and see you upstairs.

But then Billy hugs you tight around the waist.

- It's good to see you, Mom. - He whispered, and you frowned in confusion, but smiled, bending down to return the hug quickly.

- It's good to see you too, honey. - You joked, and pulled him away slightly to make sure he was all right. He looked happy.

- It's okay, Mom, you can go. - He said, and you ruffled his hair before heading off in the opposite direction, looking around with a mixture of nervousness and excitement.

The hotel was quite large, and you had been looking for many minutes by the time you got to the pool area.

And then you saw her, in all her glory, coming down the stairs on the opposite side from where you were standing. A smile slipped from your lips at the same moment, and you felt your heart race. Wanda looked just as beautiful as the last time you saw her, almost twelve years ago.

Your feet moved automatically, but it seemed that suddenly all the people in the pool area were in your way to get to her. You heard Natasha call out to you, warning you to be careful, but then you are bumping into one of the waiters, stumbling backwards and falling into one of the pools.

You think Billy screamed in surprise, but you kept following Wanda through the water, she noticed you with all this commotion.

Coming out of the pool, completely drenched, you let out a happy sigh as you stopped in front of her. 

You should be grinning like an idiot, but Wanda also seemed amazed to see you. 

- Wanda. - You sighed.

- Hi Y/N.

- Wow, there you are. - You said, still impressed. Wanda just smiled at you, equally embarrassed. - Sorry, something's happened that I don't know about. I'm completely surprised to see you, but you don't seem surprised to see me at all. - You say and Wanda looks away quickly. - I haven't seen, or known anything about you for ten or maybe eleven years. And suddenly on the same day...

- Hi Mom. - Billy interrupts you, and you look at him in surprise. - I can explain why she's here.

- Honey, do you... do you know who she is? 

- Actually, I do. - He says, smiling awkwardly. - And actually, I'm not Billy.

- Actually, I am. 

You choke in surprise to see your two twins together, next to each other.

- What... You two...

- You and Mom must think alike, because you sent us to the same camp. - Billy says. You feel your heart racing, still completely in shock. - We met there, and everything came up.

- They switched places, Y/N. - Clarified Wanda beside you.

You let out a sigh.

- You mean I was with Tommy all this time? - you ask with emotion in your voice.

- Well, I wanted to know what you were like. - Tommy said. - And Billy wanted to know what Mom was like. Are you angry?

- Honey of course not. - You denied it by bending down to his height. - I just can't believe it's you, look how much you've grown. - You say happily, pulling him into a tight hug. You pull him away a moment later to look at his face tenderly, running your fingers over his cheeks. - My boy looks so handsome.

Tommy smiles at you, and then releases your grip, returning to his brother's side.

- And you, Billy, have you been in London all this time? - you ask, and he shrugs. You let out a short laugh before hugging him tightly. - I can't believe you're together.

- Mom is awesome, Mom. - Says Billy looking at you. - I don't know how you let her get away.

You laugh uncomfortably, then let him go.

- Boys, let me and your mother talk for a moment, okay? - Wanda asks with a smile. Billy and Tommy nod slightly, and you put your hands in your pockets awkwardly as you and Wanda walk around the pool until you sit on one of the benches, facing each other. You think you should try to stop smiling so much, but this must be the happiest you've been in twelve years.

- I can't believe this. - You comment, biting your lips for a moment. - Seeing them together. Seeing you.

Wanda giggles, a slight redness in her cheeks.

- How are you, Wands? - you ask, and realize that the nickname escapes your lips with ease. - Or does everyone call you Miss Maximoff now?

She smiles, a little awkwardly, denying it with her head.

- My brother still calls me Wands. - She says. - You can call me whatever you like. - She smiles awkwardly. 

- And how is Pietro? - you find yourself asking. You were overflowing with curiosity, wanting to absorb as much of Wanda as possible, afraid that she would disappear at any moment. - Is he married?

- Oh no. - She giggles. - Pietro lives with me now. He retired from racing. He goes on casual dates, but he says he doesn't want anything serious.

- You haven't changed a bit. - You comment, looking at her adoringly. God, she looks so beautiful.

- There you are! I've been looking all over for you! - says a female voice startling you both. You look away from Wanda quickly, Tabitha looks at you both with a frown. - Good, you have met. Honey, Miss Maximoff designs wedding dresses, and she's going to make... Wait, how do you two know each other? And honey, why are you all wet?

You and Wanda stand up awkwardly, you run your hand straight down the back of your neck, trying to think how exactly to explain, feeling Tabitha's confused gaze on you.

- You are going to make my fiancee's dress. - You say, turning to Wanda.

- I didn't know she was your fiancée. - She retorts.

- How we met... How I know you... - You turn to Tabitha again, trying to find a way to tell her. - How do you two know each other?

- Sorry, am I missing something here? - Tabitha asks with narrowed eyes.

- You know, this world is so small. - You comment with a wry smile.

- How small? - She replies seriously.

- Hello, Tabitha. - says Tommy, appearing next to the blonde. She greets him back, but then looks at you waiting for your answer.

- How are you? - Billy asks, appearing on the other side, and Tabitha jumps in fright.

- How... - She spins her body around quickly, varying her gaze and finger pointing between Billy and Tommy. - Two of them... How?

- So, did I ever mention that Billy was a twin?

- You forgot that little detail. - She replies with slight irritation in her voice, looking at you and crossing her arms.

- Don't be upset. - said Tommy. - She didn't tell me either. And by the way, I'm not Billy. He is. - He explained. - I was pretending to be him, while he was pretending to be me.

- And that's our other mother over there. - Said Tommy quickly pointing to the redhead next to you. - Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda smiled, but Tabitha didn't look happy at all.

- Is that your mother? - she asked incredulously. The boys nodded in agreement. - Were you two married?

- Yes. - Both of you confirmed clumsily.

- Oh, yes. Small world indeed. - Tabitha says.

- It just got smaller. - You comment nervously.

- And what a coincidence that we are all here together at the same weekend. - She adds wryly, while the boys exchange a mischievous glance. - Can I talk to you privately, Y/N?

You nod slightly as she turns and walks away, and then you turn to Wanda.

- It was ... it's ... good. Good to see you. - You say awkwardly, Wanda smiles and nods slightly. - We... I don't know...

- Go change your clothes and talk to your fiancée. - She pokes you lightly. But her gaze is not malicious. - We'll talk later.

By the time you reached Tabitha, she was already entering the elevators. You think you should be worried, but you just feel uncomfortable. You want to go back to the pool and talk to Wanda. Tabitha doesn't say anything until you are in your suite. Then she yells at you. You think she said something about trust, but you're not really listening. And then Tabitha slams the door on her way out, and you have a smile on your face, thinking of Wanda.

Tommy and Billy insist that the four of you have dinner together. And honestly, you make no effort to find excuses not to go. 

And then you find yourself standing in front of the hotel, completely breathless at the image of your ex-wife wearing a red dress that embraces her in all the right places.

You feel embarrassed, not knowing exactly what to say or do, but Wanda lets you hold her arm as you walk together toward the harbor, the boys ahead of you.

And then you approach a big ship, and you feel your heart soar.

- Is that ?

- Yes. - Wanda confirms with a smile, looking as surprised as you are.

Parked in the harbor is the same ship you met twelve years ago. As you walk up the stairs, Wanda asks how the boys managed to get all this, and they just say they pooled their allowance with a little help from Uncle Pietro and Aunt Nat, which makes you and Wanda laugh.

When you arrive at one of the private dining rooms inside the ship, the boys guide you both inside, and you frown as you look at the dining table.

- Darlings, why are there only two chairs? - you ask, looking at your sons. They exchange mischievous glances.

- We're not having dinner with you. - says Billy.

- What? - Wanda asks

- I should have known better. - You make a humorous remark. 

 - Come on, Mom. Don't be angry. - asks Tommy without looking the least bit sorry for his little plot. - We think you two have a lot to talk about.

You let out a sigh, agreeing. The boys leave a short time later, and you and Wanda sit down at a small table. It is an intimate and romantic dinner, and brings up feelings you have held for a long time.

- Are you okay with this, Wands? - you ask as soon as you are settled at the table. - With dinner I say. With me.

Wanda giggles.

- I'm the one who should be asking you that. - She says. - You're the one getting married.

The teasing makes something in your stomach turn nervously, and you give her an embarrassed smile and look away from her to the table. And then Pietro and Nat enter the room, dressed as waiters, and you both let out surprised exclamations.

- I won't even ask. - You joke, but the two of you just smile politely.

- Good evening, madames. - says Pietro. You notice how much older he looks since you last saw him. - We'll be serving dinner for you tonight.

- And these are the hors d'oeuvres. - Nat says as she places a few items on the table. You look at the dishes with curiosity, and are happy to see that they all look delicious.

They leave next, and you and Wanda exchange a look of amusement. You both sample a few things, and then you find yourself looking at Wanda again. She smiles when she notices.

- You want to ask me something. - she says with a smile. - Just ask.

- It's not a question, I think. - You say after a moment, trying to clarify your thoughts. Being with Wanda makes everything seem like background. - I was just wondering, how did this happen?

Wanda takes a sip of wine, raising her eyebrows slightly.

- What exactly happened? - she replies. - The ship? The children? The dinner?

You giggle, slumping back in your chair.

- Us, Wanda. - You say. - What happened to us?

Wanda looks away from you, looking slightly upset. 

- I don't know Y/N. - She answers. - We were so young, immature and so, so temperamental. We both said stupid things. - She says with a slight nostalgia. - And then I left, and you didn't come after me.

She finishes her sentence with a quick sad smile, and you feel your stomach drop.

- I didn't think you would want this.

Wanda shrugged, a glint in her eyes that you couldn't read.

- It really doesn't matter anymore.

And then Pietro and Nat are back with the main courses, and you look away from Wanda quickly, an immense feeling of guilt and regret in your chest. 

You have a lot to think about, but it has been so long, and now you had a fiancée, a life that went on without Wanda. You let out a sigh, raising your hand to the glass of wine, and turning it over in your mouth with a single gulp.

You ate in silence for a while, the food was tasty, but you thought you two had become quiet because of the conversation. But then Wanda looked at you again.

- What will happen now that they know? - Wanda asked, and you frowned slightly.

- Why would that be a problem?

 - We live in different countries. - She clarified. - What are we going to do, half of the year I stay with Billy, and the other half with Tommy?

You laughed awkwardly, running your hands through your hair.

- Wow, this is a terrible idea. - You declare and Wanda raises her eyebrow slightly. - The kids will never accept this. We'll just have to find a way to make it work.

You're starting to get a migraine thinking about everything.

- Maybe... things could stay the same. - she says. - And then they visit each other on vacation.

You nod in agreement. You hold the smile on your face even as you feel a great wave of nervousness at the thought that it was settled: Wanda would return to London, she would be out of your life again. 

You finish dinner in a polite and friendly way, not talking any more. You think you might cry, but you drink more wine to calm your body. 

When you and Wanda say good-bye in the hotel lobby, you kiss her cheek, and see in her eyes the same sadness and longing that you have.

You are trying not to get angry with your children, even though they are stubborn brats. You have already checked out of the hotel, and were getting ready to leave, when Tommy and Billy came down from their rooms to say goodbye. And then they matched clothes, and refused to say who is who so that you could leave.

- This is absolutely ridiculous, boys. - You comment next to Wanda. - Your mother will miss her flight.

But your children just kept their arms crossed, and you let out an impatient grumble.

- Kids, what's this about now? - Wanda asked. - Even if I miss the flight, eventually Tommy will come with me.

The boys exchanged a thoughtful look.

- We want everyone together at the camp at the end of the summer vacation. - Said one of the boys, you thought it might be Billy, but you weren't sure.

- And when we get back, we'll tell you who's who. - Completed the brother, maybe this was Billy.

- I have an even better idea! - you exclaim. - You obey your mothers and Tommy goes back to London as we agreed.

And that's how you ended up in a car with Wanda, and your two sons, and your fiancée heading for home. Tabitha was not at all happy about the whole situation.

[arvinsescape]

Behind his back.

A/N: Darker fic for me to write but i’d had this idea for a while and i really hope you enjoy, please do read at your own risk as i have given warnings! 

Summary: Y/N goes behind Tom’s back and gets herself into a terrible situation.

Warnings: Swearing, death, gore, violence, general mob stuff, knife use, gun mentions and smut (oral fem r), unprotected sex (please practise safe sex) Minors do not engage. 

This is a darker one shot so please only engage if you feel comfortable, i have put all the warnings in.

W/C: 6.6K

You knew you shouldn’t be here, you knew how dangerous it was, Tom had specifically asked you to sit this one out but you didn’t listen. You knew coming here could be the end of it all for you, you could easily lose your life tonight but you were optimistic, confident in your abilities. You wondered briefly if Tom would kill you himself if he found out you’d deliberately disobeyed him.

You were a card Tom kept close to his chest, only bringing you in when he felt it was absolutely necessary. Most people assumed you were just an ordinary woman, only a few of Tom’s close friends knew who you were, most of his men didn’t even know you existed. He only ever met you at your house and it was always at some ungodly hour, making the sneaking in and out easier.

You remember when you first started working for Tom, you were initially sent to gain information from him by your previous employer. He caught onto your act after a while and found himself so impressed by your ability that he hired you to extract information for him.

“I should get going.” You said as you removed yourself from Tom’s lap, you’d been flirting all night, of course this was part of your plan. You’d been touchy feely for a good hour by this point, making it easier to take the document you needed from his pocket and discreetly slip it into your bra.

“But I was having so much fun darling.” He smirked, if this had of been any other night, you’d have let him take you home. He was by far the most attractive man you’d ever had to extract information from.

“Maybe I’ll see you around.” You flirted back and made your way to the back exit of the club, hoping to slip into the night and deliver the piece of paper that was still wedged into your bra.

You made it outside in the alleyway between the club and the building next door when you felt an arm wrap around your waist. You almost screamed but remembered the last thing you needed to do was draw attention to yourself, especially when Tom owned this club, you couldn’t have him finding out what you’d done, it’d blow everything.

“Not so fast darling.” You relaxed slightly when you heard his voice, melting into his hold only slightly.

“I told you I was tired and I’m heading home.” You said innocently and he chuckled before turning you around and pinning you to the wall, arms either side of your head and you felt your breath hitch at the closeness. You knew you could have given him a good kick between the legs and bolted but you didn’t want to. You’d heard he was dangerous yet you doubted he’d hurt you.

“I think you have something of mine.” He said as he peppered kisses along your throat and you shivered in his hold.

“I don’t think so.” You said again and he chuckled before moving his hands to your waist, your hands finding his hair as he continued to kiss along your neck, hands sliding up your sides and you found yourself panting as you grew aroused.

“Tom.” You said as he sucked on your neck, leaving a mark. He hummed as his hands slipped further up your sides, cupping your breast with one hand.

“You gonna hand it over? Or am I gonna have to take it?” He said as he brought his face back to yours, lips inches from your own. “You’re good, had me fooled. If only Haz hadn’t have asked to see the paper, you’d have gotten away with stealing it.” You laughed slightly as you realised you may as well drop the innocent act.

“Dam Harrison then.” You said and he threw his head back as he laughed.

“You’re playing a very dangerous game princess. How do you know I’m not going to kill you for stealing from me, I’ve killed people for less you know?” He said and although you should have been intimidated you weren’t, you were so wrapped up in his scent and just him.

“If you were going to kill me, I assume you would have done by now.” You said confidently, your lips where still inches apart and you were fighting everything in you not to close the distance. You felt yourself become disappointed as he moved away from you and held his hand out.

“True. I still want it back though.”

“How do you know I still have it on me?” You tried.

“I don’t for certain but I assume you do. Hand it over and I’ll give you something in return.” He said and you found yourself hoping that meant an absolute railing in this alleyway. You pondered over the idea before you sighed.

“I can’t. The people I work for won’t be happy, they’ll kill me. So I suppose I have to make a choice, let you kill me or them, either way I’m fucked.” You said, the atmosphere shifting from playful to serious as he furrowed his brows as if deep in thought.

“I’m not going to kill you but I am going to take my documents back.” He said after a while and you gasped slightly as he pinned you back to the wall, hand reaching between your breasts as he pulled the paper from your bra. You moved to snatch the paper back from him, ready to hit him and run but he was much faster than you.

“You know who I am don’t you?” He asked and you nodded your head. “I can make the people you work for disappear, make sure you’re safe, I just want one thing in return.” He spoke again.

“You don’t even know who I work for.” You said.

“True, I don’t but it doesn’t really matter. Tell me who they are and I’ll make them go away.” He said and it sounded as if he was trying to reassure you.

“What do you want from me?” You spoke after a moment.

“I want you to work for me.”

That was that, he indeed did get rid of the mobster you previously worked for, you still don’t know what he did and ultimately didn’t care. Tom was a much less demanding employer and always made sure you were safe, he didn’t leave you to fend for yourself, ever. You were yet to see where he lived, he didn’t want anyone to accidently see you and make any connection, he wouldn’t endanger you like that.

You were head over heels for him, completely in love, nothing ever happened between the two of you. There had been a couple of occasions where you’d thought he was so protective over you because he liked you back but after months of him not making a move and last weeks words, you realised that you were just a good business investment and that’s why you were so well protected.

You knew you were here tonight because you were in love with him, because you wanted to prove yourself to him, make him see you were more capable than he gave you credit. You weren’t just some girl who was good at flirting and stealing. James Kane was a dangerous man, he didn’t care if you were male or female, if he wanted you out of the way, you were dead. There were rumours he’d killed his ex-wife so she wouldn’t get any of his money in the divorce.

He’d become a thorn in Tom’s side and Tom was growing desperate to get him off the board, that had sparked the argument you’d had last week.

“Tom, I can do it!” You practically begged him. “I know where he’s going to be, it’ll be easy. He wouldn’t suspect a thing, he’s too arrogant to believe a woman could outsmart him.”

“Y/N.” Tom sighed as he stood from your couch. “No. I will not have you in the same vicinity as him, I can’t go with you, he knows who I am.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, he wasn’t used to people arguing his authority.

“Send me in with someone else.” You pleaded.

“No.” He said. “You’re not going, end of.” He snapped.

“You can’t tell me what to do.” You said and he almost pinned you to the spot with his stare, you’d annoyed him.

“I pay you to do what you do remember.” He snapped. “You’re not going, it’s too dangerous.” He said.

“So what? Why do you care so much?” You almost screamed in frustration.

“Because I-“ He cut himself off.

“Because what Tom?” You shouted and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he thought for a moment.

“Because you are a very valuable asset that I can’t afford to lose.” He said and your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach. You really were just a good business deal. “You’re not going and that’s final, I’ll find another way to deal with him.” He didn’t give you chance to respond as he slammed the door to your home shut, leaving you crying.

You hadn’t spoken to him since, you were angry at him, you wanted to get this information from James and hand it to him personally and gloat. You realised it was probably stupid to think this way, you wanted him to love you back so badly that you were here tonight, putting your life in danger. You were currently seated on James lap as you flirted, your phone had now been buzzing in your bag for ten minutes.

“You should probably get that.” James spoke into your ear and you had to fight the urge to vomit as his hand trailed up your thigh, nothing like the night you’d flirted with Tom, you hadn’t been acting then.

“That would be so rude of me though.” You said as you leant your head back onto his shoulder, you needed to fish around for the documents soon and you knew it but you had to play carefully, you were on your own, no back up.

“I don’t mind.” He said as he licked a stripe up your neck and you shivered but not in a good way, thankfully he thought it was. You turned and kissed his cheek as you grabbed your phone from your bag, James’s arms looped around your waist.

You furrowed your brows as you checked your screen.

Tom: 40 missed calls.

Tom: 13 new messages.

“Who’s Tom? Boyfriend?” He said and you put your phone back into your bag after switching it off.

“My brother.” You lied, hoping he’d drop it.

“Seems pretty clingy.”

“He probably wants a lift home from his night out.” You spoke and James kissed your shoulder. “I’m just gonna go to the toilet, I’ll be back in a minute.” You said as you kissed his cheek once more.

You removed yourself from his lap and made your way into the bathroom, splashing water over your face as you sighed and looked into the mirror.

“Come on Y/N, you can do this. You don’t need his protection for everything.” You pep talked yourself, your nerves were getting the better of you. You were also panicking now because Tom was trying to get hold of you and you never ignored his calls, he was gonna be even more pissed at you. You made your way into a stall and as you locked the cubicle you heard someone else enter the bathroom, assuming it was a woman here to do her makeup.

You made your way out of the cubicle and your blood ran cold as you saw James leant against the sinks, arms folded as he pierced you with his gaze, the piece of paper you wanted to get hold of was held in one of his hands. He knew and you were fucked.

“I was gonna give you more time, but I assume you lost your nerve. He’s not sent you with anyone tonight has he?” He spoke and you tried to compose yourself, play innocent.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said and he shot you a glare so foul you knew you were done for.

“Don’t play dumb with me you stupid bitch.” He spat and you started weighing up your options in your head, you had to get away. “You honestly think I don’t know who you are. Very cute pet he has.” He spoke again, you needed to keep him talking whilst you weighed up your escape.

“How did you find out?” You went with.

“Tom put his trust in the wrong man. Jacob isn’t as trustworthy as you think, worked for me for years. He told me all about you and how precious you are. He doesn’t know you’re here tonight does he?” He spoke so honestly and you knew in that moment that his intention was to kill you, he didn’t need to hold back because in his mind you were a dead woman walking. Your blood pumping was pounding in your ears as he spoke.

“Tom wouldn’t be so stupid as to send you to me, no. You’ve come here off your own back.” He deduced. “Shame it’ll be the last decision you ever make.”

You bolted towards the door and James caught you, arms around your waist and you panicked, shoving your heel into his foot, he screamed in pain as he let go of you and you took the opportunity to kick him between his legs before bolting out of the bathroom.

You knew you couldn’t go to the entrance of the club, too many of James’ men were around so you bolted out of the fire escape and into the alleyway. You hastily took your heels off and threw them so you could run faster, you made your way into a different alley nearby, the area was quiet, no people around. You fished around in your bag for your phone and as you went to switch it on, you felt a body collide with your own.

“You fucking bitch.” James spat as he pinned you to the ground, your phone went flying and you watched with disbelief as it went down a drain, this was it, you were going to die and all you could think about was how you should have listened to Tom. “He’s not worth dying for you know.” James spat again and you felt the tears slip from your eyes. “Don’t cry, I’ll make it quick.” He said as he wiped at your tears and you felt around you for something, anything you could use. Your heart rate sped up as your hand gripped a rock and you used all your force to hit him in the temple with it.

He groaned as the force knocked him onto his side, you were quick to stand as you ran out of the alley and just as you were about to reach the opening a hand gripped your ankle and pulled you onto your front and you cried out in pain. You felt the blood trickle from your head as it collided with the concrete. He turned you over and you fought against him as he straddled you.

“You really are a feisty thing, I can see why Tom likes you. Bet you’re a good fuck, that’s why he keeps you around.” You studied his face and saw his head was split where you’d hit him with the rock and given his position over you some trickled down the side of his face and off his chin, onto your own face. Tears were streaming down your face as he spoke.

“Wait. He’s not fucked you has he. Fucking coward. Has he not told you he’s in love with you?” James taunted making your heart hurt at the thought of Tom and how you were probably never going to see him again. He laughed as he realised he was right. “I want you to beg for him, I want you to beg for him to save you.”

“Fuck you.” You said as you spat at him, he lifted a hand to wipe it away and you took the opportunity to punch him in the gut as you tried to roll him off you but it was no use, he was much stronger and heavier than you.

“You silly little cunt. I was gonna make it quick but now I think I’ll savour it, then I can tell Tom how he wasn’t fast enough, how he couldn’t save you. It’ll kill him to know he couldn’t save you. You’re gonna beg for him and the last thing you’ll ever remember is how much you begged for him to save you and he couldn’t.” He said as he got a knife out of his pocket, your eyes widening as he brought it to your face.

“Such a pretty face, it’ll be a real shame that he won’t recognise it when I’m done with you.” He said as he used the blade to draw a cut into your cheek, it wasn’t too deep but it was enough to draw a lot of blood, you screamed in pain as you felt it trickle down and into your hair. “That’s right scream for him, scream as loud as you can. Maybe he’ll hear you and come running. Might just be able to watch me take your life. Maybe I’ll carve out your heart and send it to him, poetic don’t you think.”

Tears streamed down your face and you felt yourself grow determined, you had to get back to Tom, you had to save yourself, you couldn’t let him win. You tuned him out as he spoke and felt around as you felt for the brick, you used it again, this time with a renewed force and you knocked him clean off you, you got up quicker than last time but it seemed James was just as quick as he grabbed your arm and spun you around.

Your hand went for his hand that held the knife and you used all your force to turn it towards him all as he went to stab you and you watched his eyes widen as he felt the knife plummet into his own body. You watched in shock as he fell to the ground, hands went from clutching his wound to reaching out for you, smearing blood on your legs and arms as he fell all as you stood there in shock.

Your knees collapsed after a while and you fell to the ground, fighting the urge to vomit, you must have looked a mess, blood, and dirt all over your exposed skin. You were no longer sure if the red of your dress was blood or the original colour. You’d never killed anyone before and although he deserved it and it was you or him, you still felt sick. You pulled your knees to your chest as you stared at James’s lifeless body.

You heard in the background as vehicles approached and you couldn’t find it in you to move and hide properly. You heard as gunshots were fired into the night sky and still couldn’t move. You jumped as a hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and the tears came again as you screamed, turning to shove the person who’d touched you.

“Christ, Y/N. Fuck, calm down, it’s me, it’s me.” You heard an all too familiar voice. You opened your eyes and were met with the piercing blue of Harrison’s. “It’s okay, it’s me.” He said and you cried harder out of relief. “Tom! Mate! She’s here.” Haz suddenly shouted and you heard rushed steps approach before they stopped completely.

“Fuck. Is that-“ Tom cut himself off as he took you in and his heart dropped. You were filthy, cuts and scars everywhere. He practically shoved Harrison out of the way as he dropped to his knees in front of you, taking your face in his hands. “Princess, are you okay? Is that your blood?” He asked as he tried to look for any obvious and huge injuries. His voice was softer than anyone had ever heard it as he spoke to you.

“Some of it.” You croaked out and his heart broke. “Tom, he was gonna kill me, I didn’t have a choice, I didn’t mean to. He wanted me to beg for you to save me, said he’d carve my heart out and give it to you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to kill him.” You rambled as he took you into his arms, nodding at his men who disappeared, leaving Harrison as he watched the interaction, it was like no one else was there, Tom was fixated on you.

“Baby,” he couldn’t stop the name rolling off his tongue, “it’s okay. He’s never gonna hurt you again. No one is, you’re safe, I’ve got you.” He said as he stroked through your hair, grimacing at the blood in it. This shouldn’t have happened to you. Harrison cleared his throat, reminding his boss that they needed to move, they couldn’t stay here, the gunfire would have attracted attention. Tom nodded as Harrison moved to start the car.

“We need to go. I’m gonna take you home.” He said and your hands suddenly grasped his shirt as you clung to him for dear life.

“I don’t wanna go home Tom. I wanna stay with you.” You begged and you didn’t care how pathetic it sounded, you needed him. He stroked your hair again as he kissed the top of your head.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He said again. “I promise I’ll stay with you, okay? We need to go though, I’m gonna take you to mine, you’ll be safe there, I’ll keep you safe.” He promised as he stood, you in his arms still as you leant all your weight on him, you grew more tired as he picked you up bridal style and carried you to his car.

“Haz, get someone to get rid of that quick.” He said, tone much more assertive than the one he’d used with you. He was referring to the body and you knew it but appreciated him not saying it. He carefully placed you into the black SUV as he told his man to drive, he didn’t let go of you the whole way to his.

Once you arrived at his he carried you into his mansion, if you weren’t so tired and still trying to process what had happened you might have been in awe of it. He easily carried you upstairs and into his bedroom, heading straight for the bathroom. Neither of you spoke as he undressed you, he was careful, every touch feather light like he was afraid he’d hurt you. He set the shower going as he got it to a good temperature.

“Okay, you should get in.” He spoke quietly and you nodded, before stepping into the shower and letting the warmth envelope you. You watched as the blood and dirt disappeared down the plug hole, washing away the evidence of what had happened tonight.

“Tom?” You found yourself calling and his head popped round the shower screen, his brows furrowed as he looked at you, he wasn’t looking anywhere except your face.

“Yeah?” He spoke softly and you cried again, his face softening.

“I’m sorry.” You said and he sighed before disappearing, you panicked that he was going to leave you until he reappeared, stepping into the shower with you, both of you naked as he held you in his arms. After a while he moved away from you, grabbing the shampoo as he lathered your hair, making sure to get all the blood and dirt out of it.

He took the sponge and cleaned you up, you winced as soap went into your little cuts, your legs and feet littered with them, he apologised every time you winced and you wondered what had happened to the big scary mob boss you were so familiar with. He was being so gentle and careful as he cleaned you up.

Once he was satisfied you were clean, he made short work of his own shower before getting out and wrapping a towel around his waist. He held out a hand as he helped you out of the shower, getting a towel and drying you off, wrapping your hair in the towel when he was done. He led you into the bedroom as he handed you one of his shirts and a pair of boxers as you put them on, watching as he dried himself off before pulling his own boxers on.

“Come here.” He patted the bed in front of him as you sat there, he took the towel off your head before grabbing a hair brush he had on his bedside table, you wondered if a woman had left it there and then cursed yourself at the jealousy that followed. He carefully brushed your hair and set to work platting it.

“Where’d you learn this?” You found yourself asking quietly as he fished around for a hair tie.

“I’ve watched you do it a million times, figured it couldn’t be that hard.” He said as he tied the end, dropping your hair and wrapping his arms around your shoulders before pulling your back against his chest. “What were you thinking?” He asked and you tried to find the annoyance, but it wasn’t there.

“I’m sorry.” You said again as he rested his chin on your shoulder. “I wanted you to see what I could do. I wanted to do this for you.” You admitted and he sighed before kissing your cheek.

“I never once doubted you but I always wanted, no needed, you safe. You’re precious to me and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” He spoke. “Princess you scare me.” He admitted and you spun around to look at him, feeling the anger you held towards him earlier that day rise.

“Why? Because I’m a good asset that you don’t want to lose?” You snapped and his face twisted in annoyance.

“I didn’t mean it like that. Just remember that I specifically asked you not to go tonight and you did and you almost died.” He said.

“Yeah and I didn’t did I? I saved myself if you hadn’t realised.” You spat and his face went red.

“That’s not the point. You shouldn’t have been there in the first place.” He almost shouted and your anger reached a breaking point, you moved away from him and got off the bed.

“Fuck you Tom. Fuck you.” You spat as you made your way out of his bedroom, slamming the door. Seconds later you heard it open again and Tom’s footsteps followed you.

“Where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

“Y/N, come back.” He demanded.

“No, I want to go home.” You shouted as you grabbed one of Tom’s many coats off the hooks and pulled it on, going to open the front door. Before you could pull it open Tom’s palm made a firm connection with the wood of the door as he held it shut.

“Please, Y/N, it’s not safe. You can’t go out on your own at this time of night.”

“I think I’ve proven myself pretty capable.” You snapped and he sighed.

“I’m trying here, will you please just stay?” It sounded like he was begging but he couldn’t have been, Tom Holland didn’t beg. Harrison had made his way downstairs now, the commotion having disturbed him.

“Are you guys okay?” He asked and you turned to look at Harrison.

“Please can you take me home?” You asked him and he nodded slightly. Tom pulled back from you and he looked almost hurt but you were too angry to care.

“Y/N/N I-“ Tom spoke and you cut him off.

“I don’t wanna hear it Tom, I’m more than just a business deal you know. I went there tonight to get information for you because I love you and I wanted you to see me as more than you do but that’s just wishful thinking.” You said and the atmosphere went silent at your confession. Harrison said he’d be in the car as you looked at Tom, you couldn’t decipher the look in his eyes.

“Until you’re ready to see me as a person Tom this isn’t gonna work.” And the roles from last week became reversed, you slammed the door before he could speak. You made your way to the car and Harrison smiled sadly as you hopped into the passenger seat.

“Y/N, he loves you, you know.” Haz spoke and you sighed.

“Then why doesn’t he just say it?”

“It’s hard for him. He doesn’t do relationships, he wants to keep you safe.”

“I don’t wanna talk about this right now.” You sighed and Haz nodded. “Jacobs dodgy by the way, he ratted me out to James.” You said and Haz looked at you in confusion as he pulled into your drive.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Make sure Tom knows I sorted two problems for him tonight, his rat and the thorn in his side.” You said, venom laced with every word.

**

You hadn’t seen Tom for a week and you were angry with him for a few days and now you just missed him. You wished he’d have followed you, come to your door and declared his undying love for you but no. No he hadn’t and you were angry about it and now you were just left with the sadness that he didn’t feel the same.

Your injuries had mostly healed, apart from the cut on your cheek and you wished you had a phone or at least remembered where Tom lived, but you debated it being a good thing you didn’t and couldn’t. You heard a knock at your door made your way towards it, pulling the door open, you were shocked when you saw him standing there.

“Tom?” You breathed out as you took him in, he looked like he’d not slept much, you hadn’t either, plagued with nightmares of James’ lifeless body. His hair was more untidy than usual, he was still sporting those black slacks that you loved so much, white shirt tucked in, sleeves rolled up, you were so in love with him that it hurt.

“We need to talk.” He said as he moved past you, you couldn’t decipher his mood. You shut the door as you waited for him to continue. “I am so angry with you right now.” He said and it was the last thing you expected him to say. “I’m angry that you thought it was appropriate to go behind my back and almost get yourself killed. I am beyond pissed off that you put yourself in so much danger.”

“Tom-���

“No, you’re going to let me finish. I’m angry that you think you’re just some business contract to me. You know the night you stormed out, I cried, I haven’t cried since I was a fucking kid. You scare me because you make me feel things for you that would put you in more danger than I already do. Fuck, I didn’t want you to go there at all because I am so fucking in love you that I don’t know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you.” He was almost out of breath when he’d finished, he’d taken steps towards you and now had you pinned to the wall. His eyes were desperately flickering between your own.

“I love you.” He said again and it was much softer than moments prior when he’d practically screamed it at you. You couldn’t stop yourself as you jumped into his arms, giving him a second to react as he caught you, your lips smashing against his in a desperate and needy kiss.

“I love you so much Tom.” You said as you pulled back before kissing him again. “So much.” You said repeatedly, almost like a mantra, through kisses.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again.” He said and you nodded as he kissed you again. You were desperate and needy for each other as you felt him grow hard, your own arousal growing. He lowered you down as you stood back on your feet, panting. “I mean it, don’t ever do that again.” He said again and you smiled as you put your hands on his face.

“I promise.” You reassured and he captured your lips in his again. You pulled away after a few minutes, your arousal having grown and you wanted him, fuck you wanted him. “Tom?”

He hummed in response as he kissed along your throat.

“I want you.” You said and he softly grazed his teeth over the skin of your neck.

“Come on then baby.” He said as he picked you up and made his way to the couch. He lowered you down as he took your shirt off, you’d forgone a bra today and he groaned at the sight of your hardened nipples. “Fuck you’ve got amazing tits.” He said and you laughed slightly. He took a nipple into his mouth and you moaned slightly. His hand slipped into your shorts and he collected your arousal on his finger.

“Shit, you’re wet.” He groaned and placed kisses down your stomach, he removed his hand and took the waistband of your shorts between his teeth, pulling them down your legs as he winked up at you. “Bet you taste amazing princess. You gonna let me have a taste?” He asked and you nodded profusely.

“Please.” You almost begged and he placed kisses up you leg before you felt his breath on your clit and your breath hitched. He licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit and you moaned at the contact.

“You taste fucking amazing.” He groaned against your heat and you moaned again.

“Tom, please.” You needed him and he groaned as he encased your clit in his mouth, sucking as he listened to you moan out, like music to his ears. He wasted no time in licking and sucking your clit, twisting a hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger and he watched your face from his position between your legs.

You could feel your orgasm approach as he sucked your clit more harshly and he groaned as your hips bucked up to his face. He moved away from you and your orgasm disappeared.

“Tom!” You almost shouted and he chuckled as he smiled.

“Come here, want you to ride my face.” He said and you almost moaned at the thought. You both moved so that he had his back on the couch cushions and you were hovering over his face. “Fucking beautiful view.” He said as he moved his hands to your hips and pulled you down onto his tongue. He went back to licking and sucking at your clit as you rode his tongue, hands gripping his hair.

You felt your orgasm approach again and you cried out as one of his fingers circled your entrance before slipping inside, curling towards your g spot. You continued to ride his face as he pumped his finger in and out of your tight heat, adding another finger after a while. You almost screamed as your orgasm washed over you, it felt amazing, better than your fingers ever did.

“Fuck.” You moaned as he rode you through your high, keeping your movements steady against his tongue. “That felt amazing.” You said as you moved yourself down his body, straddling his hips, he groaned as your heat made contact with his clothed hard on.

“Open up.” He said as he placed his fingers inside your mouth so you could taste yourself. “That’s it, fuck.” He said as you sucked his fingers, cleaning them, all while keeping eye contact with him. He removed his fingers as you practically ripped his shirt open, a few buttons falling to the floor. “Careful darling. That was expensive.” He teased as your hands traced his toned body.

You moved down and made quick work of his slacks, shoes, and socks. He smiled up at you as you lowered yourself onto his hardened length, both sighing in pleasure. You gave yourself a minute to adjust, you placed your hands on his chest as you moved on him, moaning his name as you did. You picked up your pace as you fucked him, you’d waited so long for this moment.

“Fuck Tom, you feel so good.” You moaned out, which only turned Tom on more as he gripped your hips and flipped you both over. It didn’t quite go to plan as you both ended up on the floor but it didn’t matter you were both so wrapped up in each other that neither commented, he just continued to fuck into you on the floor as you both moaned.

He fucked you like his life depended on it and he went even harder when he found the right angle for your g spot which left you practically screaming for him. You felt your orgasm approach and you tightened around him.

“Shit, if you keep that up I’m gonna come.” He gasped as he placed his thumb on your clit, rubbing it in a figure eight as your orgasm approached faster, you screamed his name as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you through it, thrusts growing sloppy as he pulled out of you, streams of his come lining your bare stomach as you came down from your high. “Fuck.” Tom panted and you giggled.

“I’ll be back.” He said as he got to his feet and made his way into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a cloth to clean you up. “Shit you look good covered in my come.” He spoke and you laughed.

**

You found yourself wrapped up in your bedsheets after another round, much slower and passionate than the previous. You had your head on his chest as he ran a hand through your hair.

“I love you.” He said and you smiled against the bare skin of his chest.

“I love you too so much.” You said.

“Be mine?” He asked.

“Of course, so long as this doesn’t change my job.” You smiled and you felt his arms tighten around you.

“It changes everything, it was hard enough knowing you flirted with men and they flirted back before you were my girlfriend, don’t think I’d handle it well now.” He laughed and you joined. “You’ll always be safe with me.” He said. “I know what almost happened last week but I’d never let anything like that happen again but you have to promise me you won’t go behind my back like that again.” He said and it almost sounded like he was begging.

“I promise.” You said.

“This seems to be healing well.” He said as he angled your face up to look at him, running his thumb over your cheek.

“Yeah.” You muttered as you placed your head back onto his chest.

“Jacob won’t be a problem by the way. I took care of it.” He said.

“What did you do?”

“Doesn’t matter, he’s not a concern.” He said as he yawned. You had a feeling Jacob may have spent hours being tortured before ultimately killed but Tom would never tell you what he did, never wanting to frighten you.

You smiled in content as you heard his soft snores leaving his lips, finding comfort in his embrace, he’d always keep you safe and you knew it and you’d never go behind his back again, although you couldn’t help but think that if you hadn’t done what you did you wouldn’t be here now. You still had a lot to talk about but that could wait until a much needed sleep, in this moment you were just happy to be in his arms.

[artist-issues]

It's not a big leap. It doesn't matter if someone calls themselves a "fan" or a "creator." Who the heck cares? That's not the point. The same level of "this is compelling, so I should pay attention to what makes it compelling (critical thinking)" is required. If you're the audience, at any time, for any reason, you should have critical thinking engaged.

And if you don't. Then don't wonder why you're neither satisfied with the remakes, nor capable of generating something compelling in a remake.

You keep harping on the tiniest things I say (fan / creator,) acting like they are a "big leap, and then failing to flesh out or explain how those tiny things even disprove my conclusion.

The difference between "fan" and "someone who felt compelled during their experience in the audience" is not relevant to my point. At all. Maybe it would help you if I stop saying "fan" and start sticking to "audience," because you're making a distinction where none should exist in this context.

Never in my original post did I either directly say nor even imply that people should stop seeing bad movies. I didn't say anything toward that conclusion, one way or the other. What I did was entertain that line of reasoning only after you brought it up with the whole "people like going to complain about bad movies" point, just for the sake of discussion, and to point out that that in no way disproves my "thesis."

Just like I only said anything about capitalism in response to you bringing it up: see up there, where I said "And all that is assuming that your diagnosis of the problem—which is capitalism as a system that inherently produces bad products—is even the correct diagnosis." You brought up capitalism, and I argued the point to show that--even if I come at the issue from your line of reasoning--your points still don't disprove my thesis. But I was not confirming that I in some way believed capitalism was the driving problem.

The only thing I ever said I agreed with you about was that a filmmaker has responsibility--alongside the audience's responsibility.

Also, in what way does critical thinking necessarily lead to complete disengagement? It would only lead to that if there were nothing good or redeemable about any story, ever. So that point doesn't hold water either.

Let me say it again: I never claimed that "critical thinking" would lead to abstaining from spending capital on movies considered "bad." That was not my point. It was only me, trying to stand in your shoes where capitalism is the primary root of the problem, and explain how critical thinking is still relevant even to that issue--which was not the issue my post was ever addressing.

You're arguing with a straw man. I don't believe capitalism is the problem. Even if it were, it could be solved by critical thinking (as I defined it) in audiences. But I don't and never believed that capitalism was the problem--you did. I just engaged with you to reaffirm the universal importance of the audience's critical-thinking responsibility.

Your point was clear. It's just irrelevant, no italics needed.

Okay, so you can look at my profile and make judgement calls. Good to know. Thanks for the feedback. Your opinion, and your definition of "aggression" has been noted. Now back to what we're actually talking about. 

Oh, now you want to pay attention to the paragraph where I actually said, in summary, "those points I made are only assuming your view of capitalism has any relation to the problem I brought up." 

No, actually. Not everybody knows what you claim they know (by which you mean, "believes") about capitalism. That's called an "argument from popularity" fallacy.

The burden of proof would be on me. You know, if I was the one who ever asserted that capitalism was the only cause of our problem. Which I wasn't, you were. I repeatedly tried to remind you that it wasn't my point, but you kept arguing that it basically should be my point, so. Burden of proof? Still on you.

Dude, victory's not the goal. But if that's where you're coming from, I can understand why you'd want to stop replying. 

It isn’t all the filmmaker’s fault that all we’re getting is second-rate remakes and sequels to franchises that should’ve been left alone a long time ago.

We don’t have a clear idea of why we like the things we like. So we don’t clearly communicate why we like the things we like. So it’s no wonder Hollywood keeps getting your favorite movies and their characters wrong. The fans don’t even know why they like what they like.

When Genie is set free in the original Aladdin, that moment was impactful, and you remembered it all through childhood. When Luke tosses the lightsaber away and says “I am a Jedi, like my father before me,” it was impactful, and you remembered it.

But did you stop and analyze why? What made those moments, and those stories, impactful?

Did you say, “Genie wished to be free for the whole movie, and he was always trying to tell Aladdin about how freedom only comes from trusting, and he was learning to trust Al himself, and Aladdin finally DID trust Jasmine to still want him even if he wasn’t rich, so he set Genie free in the most satisfying way!”

Did you say, “Luke spent all previous movies rushing into fights, and trying to control everything to save the ones he loves, but when he finally has his enemy at his mercy and is at the height of his power, he realizes that being a Jedi isn’t rushing and fighting and controlling; it’s having faith in the good and throwing your opportunity for control away.”

Did you think through and appreciate that stuff? The values? The point of the whole story, and how the characters act as pillars holding that point up? The good and the bad things that they embody?

No. Not out loud. Because we don’t think critically anymore. We just go “what’s this? Entertain me. Oooh, I felt something! Good! Next!”

The why behind what you like is the only value in liking anything.

But we don’t look objectively at the “why.” We don’t dwell on the “why.” If we dwell on anything, it’s to superimpose ourselves or whatever we like onto the characters.

You think Barbie was hyping feminism because you like feminism, and because you felt things during Barbie. You write fanfiction about Eddie Munson that has nothing to do with what Eddie Munson actually is as a character—because you like love stories, and you felt some compelling emotions when you saw Eddie Munson onscreen, so you’ve decided that those things should go together. You take something that made you feel emotions while you watched the canon material, then you don’t bother to process those emotions or what made the canon material compelling. You just slap whatever you already think you like onto something that made you feel, whether it had anything to do with what you like or not.

You eat the apple and benefit from it without knowing, at all, what nutrients are inside. Then when someone offers you crap and tells you it’s apple-flavored, you wonder why you’re not feeling the same way afterward.

Then you misdiagnose. You say “no, I don’t wonder why I’m not feeling the same—it’s because the CGI in live-action remakes suck!” Okay, great, so they’ll get better CGI. And it’ll still suck. Because that was never the problem, just like the reasons you liked the movie were never the reasons it actually impacted you in the first place.

Figure out. WHY. You like what you like. Figure out if it’s because the stories said what their creators objectively intended for them to say—or if you like the story in spite of that, not because of that.

Then open your mouth about it. It is worth it.