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mistyresolve · 2 years ago

Text

| Hostage - Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Word count - 1.9K

Summary - When y/n is taken hostage because she is their combat analyst and knows a significant amount of information in regards to the 141, Ghost goes ballistic. Driven by fear and anger he locates you and is able to rescue you but the fear lingers and he struggles to wrestle his feelings back down.

Warnings/Tags - Violence and blood, allusions to a brief panic attack

A/N - I’m thinking of doing an epilogue to this but I’m really on the fence

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Ghost feared very little. Knew that very little could actually kill him, and even fewer people could do the same. He knew he wasn’t invincible, and someday his luck would run out. Someday his heart would stop, and his blood would run cold. He couldn’t run from the inevitable; thus, he welcomed death with open arms like one would an old friend. He didn’t have a death wish though. He was merely passive towards it. Sometimes he liked the thrill a brush with death gave him. It reminded him he was alive, that his heart did indeed beat like everyone else’s.

When it came to you, it was an entirely different story. The very idea of you being hurt, and dying, scared the shit out of him. The thought of you leaving him behind plagued him. Even in his sleep, nightmares of you taking your last breaths in his arms would force him from sleep. He’d spend the rest of the night watching you sleep, watching your chest rise and fall, feeling the heat radiating from your skin. He feared for the day he wasn’t able to protect you.

A day like today.

“Ghost,” Price spoke slowly and low like he was talking to a wide animal. Which wasn’t that far off, “We’ll get them back, we just need more information. We can’t run in there blind and deaf.”

Price might as well have been talking to a brick wall because all Ghost could hear was ringing. An incessant, grating sound that shrouded him from all sense and reason. He remained utterly silent, seeth in his own wrath. The wrath he was sure to bring down on everyone and anyone who stood in his way. The 141 was well aware of this and stood aside as Ghost stalked to the door, his shoulders rolled and taut ready for a fight. He had turned so wholly maniacal that even Soap was disturbed by the look in his eye and backed down. Ghost went AWOL, but the 141 provided as much support as they could. They were able to give him updates and new information over the radio, but they were never able to catch up with his unrelenting pace. Instead, they only stumbled over his messes. Their own anxiety and unease about the meaning behind it all grew. It was as if humanity abandoned him as he tracked—No. As he hunted down the men who took you, smelling their blood in the air and following the scent. Ghost spared no one. If someone wasn't giving him the information he’d slay them and move to the next. If the next person wasn’t giving him information fast enough they were executed.

When he finally located you, you were in a warehouse, he communicated back into the radio for the first time to tell the rest of the 141.

The captors had yet to start drawing blood, but only because they were trying a psychological approach. It had already been three hours. Three very long hours. You were a combat analyst, you weren’t a trained soldier like the 141. And you sure as hell wasn’t prepared for something like this. He didn’t let himself think too hard about the possibilities. He didn’t let himself think about the probability of finding you dead inside the warehouse. You had crucial information on the 141 that they wanted, and he could only hope that information was keeping you alive.

He slaughtered his way into the building, leaving nothing but carnage behind him. When he got visuals on you, alive, he nearly collapsed. Not completely unharmed though.

You were soaked from waterboarding. They had used ice-cold water, and somehow it was colder still. The big industrial fans hanging from the roof blew cool air, but it was only amplified tenfold for you. He could hear your shivering, see how your lips had turned a scary shade of blue. Your hair stuck to your face in wet clumps. Your hands were bound to a chair, your fingers curling into your palms in search of any warmth. Your eyes burned holes into whoever stood in front of you.

“Where. Are. The 141. Hiding?” Your captor asked again, the same question he’s been asking from the very beginning. He forced your head back, getting ready to place the towel. He hadn’t gotten anything out of you yet, but he could tell you were breaking.

You bit out a smile, although it was more of an act of you baring your teeth at him, “Go to hell,” Your teeth chattered, despite your best efforts. Before the captor could place to sopping towel back over your face he emerges.

It’s almost as if Ghost was made from the shadows themselves with the way he seems to materialize out of them. The way they clung to him. He couldn’t remember losing his handgun, but at some point, he’d resorted to knives.

You knew he wasn’t here for your blood but alarms and warnings went off in your very bones. They screamed, Danger! Danger!

Ghost was every bit his reputation at this moment. His eyes were wide and unseeing. His movements were swift and snappy like elastics were snapping in his limbs. He’d taken his time when he dragged the blade across the man's throat, wanting to keep him alive to feel every ounce of agony at his life quite literally drained from him.

The speed at which he moved in front of you almost made you think him inhuman. He uncuffed you and pulled you into his arms, squeezing you hard enough that you thought he was going to break bones. He was panting, almost unable to catch his breath. You could almost smell his fear; that and the blood that was surely hiding among the black dye of his clothes.

You repeatedly murmured, “I’m okay. I’m okay,” into his shoulder. Not sure if you were comforting him, or yourself. Both, you very quickly realized. As whatever came over him in those few hours of your life in danger, ebbed from his veins, he finally, finally returned to his body. Before it had felt like he was watching himself from outside his body, watching himself from someone else perceptive. Someone may have thought he wasn’t a mundane soldier, but a vessel for whatever god wished to experience true unchecked rage.

But he was human.

He felt true terror today, and his body was starting to feel the effects of it. He kept repeating, “I’m sorry,” like they were the only words he could remember. His body began to tremble uncontrollably, and his skin felt too tight and itchy. You let him hold you, let him feel your heartbeat against his.

The 141 arrived with a medic. Simon immediately stepped aside, allowing the professional to assess you. She’d immediately announced hypothermia and called for a medevac. She’d wrapped a reflective blanket around your shoulders and removed her own jacket and put it on top.

Once Simon was completely and utterly sure you were in good hands, he’d stumbled to the wall, choosing a spot where he was obscured from your view. Everyone’s view. He’d fallen to his knees then, his strength leaving him. They cracked against the concrete, but he welcomed the sharp pain. He’d lifted his mask and thrown up.

It had been a long, long while since he’d had a reaction like this. Where panic and hysteria claimed him. Guilt and self-loathing suffocated him. Filled his chest, and bubbled up into his throat.

He let this happen. He wasn’t careful enough. He got too comfortable.

And this was the result.

It was his fault.

His fault. His fault. His fault.

He clenched his jaw, fighting back hot tears. He leaned his back against the wall, rested his arms on his knees, and let his head hang between his legs. If circumstances were different he would have crawled into the safety of your arms and begged you to make this feeling stop. To make it go away. It was a selfish thought, he knew that. Knew that you were one who needed comfort and reassurance right now. Knew that you needed him just as much, but he didn’t want you to see this. For if you looked into his eyes, you’d be faced with the reality that he truly had had no idea what to do. He came looking with no plan and hardly any direction. He’d once again gotten lucky by following breadcrumbs and whispers to find you.

He almost lost you.

You were alive, yes, but what if he’d come an hour later? A minute?

The 141 knew where he was. Had watched him as he melted back into the shadows, but respected Simon’s silent request for solitary. They understood that he needed to wade through these emotions on his own and that no matter what they said or did wasn’t going to fix it.

When he heard the familiar sound of a chopper overhead he forced himself to collect himself. Allowing himself 10 more seconds before remasking, and finding you. The medic and Price were escorting you to the front doors.

“Simon,” Soap appeared at his side, Ghost jerked his attention to him, “There is nothing you could have done differently.”

He didn’t say anything, but his silence was enough for Soap to understand that he disagreed. With that, he made his way over to you taking Price’s place at your side.

You were still shaking but you held your head high with your shoulders squared. Simon could have cried at the sight. To see you were defiant in the face of it all was enough to ease the tiniest bit of worry from his shoulders. He knew you weren’t totally unaffected and it was going to take you years to repair the damages, but here you were walking out of this building on your own two feet.

The medic tried to tell him he couldn’t come with but he downright refused to leave you, “Try and tell me no.”, and she must have known immediately she wasn’t going to win because she let him in anyway.

He held your hand in his the entire flight to the nearest hospital, eyes darting about. He stayed at your side the entire time you were in the hospital too. He slept in the chair beside your bed, or at least pretended to until you drifted off into sleep, but was wide awake and alert for the rest of the night. Only leaving when Soap came for a visit the next day with clothes for him, telling him he’d take the next shift. Simon changed and came right back to the room. Only this time when he sat in the chair with the hood of his sweater pulled over his head, did he sleep. Finding some solace in knowing Soap was here too.

Tomorrow he was going to have a meeting with Price about his insubordination. And about the ramage he went on. Tomorrow he was going to have to tell Price about how he’d completely lost himself, didn’t even remember half of it.

Epilogue

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A/N - Price isn’t mad, he’s worried

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley drabble #simon ghost riley angst #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod ghost #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod x y/n #mw2 x reader #ghost mw2 #mw2 #MistyGhosties

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ladykailitha · 7 months ago

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Icarus Part 10

Just a little metal band Steve while the poll for what do with boy w/a bat and werewolf Steve is ongoing. Here if you want to vote.

Corroded Coffin is almost done with their album when the shit hits the fan and Eddie soothes away some of Steve's insecurities (and accidentally creates one more.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

****

Eddie was grateful that with the album ninety-eight percent done the label had released Jeff and him from their jail sentence so that they could go out and be people again. Brian had also been released for good behavior, but Dr. Owens suggested that Gareth stay away from the booze and parties for awhile, so Gareth had chosen to continue the exile willingly.

So to say he was excited to see Steve without all that shit hanging over his head. It was like a rare cool breeze against his skin on a hot summer’s day.

He got a table at the bar he told Steve to meet him at and ordered their drinks. He looked around the room as his knee began to bounce. He didn’t think Steve would stand him up. Steve wasn’t like that. But what if something happened? What the new studio they got was in New York or London or Chicago? How could he suggest that to Steve? He nee–

A warm hand touched his shoulder and all anxiety vanished as Steve murmured his hello.

Steve tapped the center of his forehead as he sat down. “What’s going on inside that head of yours? I can tell you’re spiraling, you’ve got this wide-eyed panicked look to you.”

Eddie rubbed his forehead and pouted. “Everything.”

Steve sighed and tenderly took his hand. He brought it up his lips and kissed each knuckle separately.

“The music business isn’t a forgiving industry at the best of times,” he murmured gently. “But it’s really rough on relationships. All kinds of relationships. Family, friends, lovers. But you’ve got me, okay?”

Eddie let out a low shuddering breath and then nodded.

“So tell me about your day,” he said with a slightly crooked smile. “You talk to Robin and your friends?”

Steve looked around the bar and nodded. “Robin says she’s working on the change of scenery, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to take. As for the other thing... we’re split down the middle. Me and Spence want June, while Simon and Shane want January.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Why the split?”

“Spence and I have hope we can get the,” he lowered his voice, “album,” he raised his voice again, “done and want the time to finish it. While the other two are clawing at the walls, chomping at the bit, and just begging for a chance to travel again.”

Eddie sighed. “I’m sorry, Stevie. We’re pretty much into editing portion of the album and agreeing on the song order. But we can tour whenever. That’s the best part about being us. We can take six months to do five shows if we wanted to and our fans would eat it up. But if your guys want to wait until next summer, then we can do that. If your guys want to leave right after the New Year, fuck we can do that too.”

Steve sighed. “The record label is just pushing us to the limits and I think even Robin is beginning to crack. First there was the mix up with our contracts then this new thing, plus the touring and everything else. It’s a lot put on her and she’s starting to go mad.”

“They like to do that, unfortunately,” Eddie agreed. “I know Celeste is a good manager, but I think that The Fallen could use an actual agent, someone to take the load off of her back.”

Steve chewed his lip. “But won’t they have to be brought in on the secret if The Fallen were to get an agent?”

“Not if you don’t want them to,” Eddie said with a shrug. “A lot people use stage names they have to have contracts. So...” he waved his hand. “I’m assuming Celeste has control of all the fiddly business stuff for each member of the band?”

Steve shrugged. “Pretty much I guess.”

“They could work through Celeste if the band doesn’t want them to know,” Eddie said with another shrug. “But I recommend bringing them in. They can’t put out fires if they don’t know there’s more than just smoke.”

Steve rubbed his bottom lip. “Yeah...I don’t know. I’m not in the band so I couldn’t say for sure, I’m only a lowly peon.”

“Maybe, but they trust you,” Eddie scoffed. “Look I get that you don’t feel like you think the band can trust someone else with this, but agents are there to protect the band. They could lose all their business if they went around blabbing shit about their clients.”

“Maybe they should just get yours,” Steve joked. “Who is it?”

“Nancy Wheeler.”

The color drained from Steve’s face and he shook his head. “We’ll find someone else. I don’t–can’t trust her with a secret that big.”

Eddie tilted his head to side as he considered Steve’s odd reaction.

“Oh shit.”

Steve laughed weakly. “Yeah, oh shit.”

Nancy was another one of Hawkins High’s alums. Bright and powerful, smart and capable. Steve could see why Corroded Coffin had gone with her. Only he couldn’t trust her to hand him a knife, much less a secret as big as this one.

They had dated before she decided that he wasn’t ambitious enough for her and dumped him for Jonathan Byers. But not before cheating on him with the guy first.

Nancy had stabbed Steve in the back once, he had no desire to give her the ammunition to do it again.

Eddie paid for their drinks, and then took his hand to lead him outside. He pulled them into a small alleyway, barely big enough to fit them both, where they would have some privacy.

Eddie took Steve’s face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together, letting their breaths mingle. Steve’s fast and panicked, Eddie’s slow and calm.

Eventually Steve’s breaths matched Eddie’s and Eddie sealed their lips together.

“You’re okay, baby,” he soothed. “I’ve got you. You’re safe in my hands. You know that right?”

Steve gasped, taking in air as if coming up from the bottom of a vast lake and break the water for the first time.

Eddie combed his fingers through Steve’s hair as the other man fought to get his emotions under control.

Steve let out one more shuddering breath and Eddie smiled. “There you are. I was getting worried for a moment there, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Opening up our secret to other people is always terrifying, but Nancy? That’s monster level dread right there.”

Eddie continued to run his fingers through Steve’s hair. “I understand that, but do know what would happen if she did that? She wouldn’t just lose you as a client, she would lose her whole catalogue of clients. Corroded Coffin included. And not just because of who we are to each other. It would be such a serious breech of confidentiality that she would literally be scorch earth’ing her whole career.”

Steve let out a long breath. He knew that objectively. He knew that she also could just not take him as a client. Decide that The Fallen wasn’t worth the risk.

“What if we sent in Robin as Celeste Baptiste and see what she thinks?” Eddie suggested. “You know Robin’s instinct is killer. It’s why she’s such a good manager. Or even better, why doesn’t Robin meet with Chrissy and have Chrissy go over agents with her and see what Robin thinks? That okay?”

Steve smiled and brought their lips together. “You take such good care of me, Eds. I love you so much.”

“Back ‘atcha, pretty boy.”

Eddie’s phone rang and he picked it up.

“‘Ello?”

He pinched his nose and sighed. “Yeah. How long?”

There was brief pause as he listened to the other person on the line.

“I’ll check Mancharo’s and El Dios and you check out that strip of bars a few blocks south of the hotel.”

Again he listened, his brows furrowing deeper.

“Then I’ll just hit up El Dios and let you know if I find him,” Eddie muttered and then hung up.

“Fuck!”

Steve rubbed the wrinkles between Eddie’s nose until his pinched expression soften.

“That was Jeff,” Eddie murmured when he was calm enough. “Gareth stormed out of his therapy session today and hasn’t been seen since. They thought he was in his room, but when they checked, he was gone.”

Steve ran his hands up and down Eddie’s arms soothingly. “I’m sorry, Eds. Do you want me to go with you?”

Eddie wanted to answer yes, but if Gareth saw Steve he would absolutely pitch the biggest bitch fit outside of literal toddlers.

“Nah,” he murmured instead. “You’ve had a rough day. I’ll call you when I have news, okay?”

Steve nodded. “I love you, babe.”

“Back ‘atcha, darlin’.”

Steve sighed as he watched his boyfriend hail a cab.

He pulled out his phone and went right to Gareth’s Instagram. His location was off but Steve almost recognized the background.

He called Robin and sent her the picture. “We’ve been here before, right?”

“Uh...” she said. “Yeah! Dustin’s twenty-first! The Devil’s End!”

“If you weren’t a lesbian and I wasn’t dating Eddie I would kiss you on the mouth!”

“Eww...” she huffed. “You going to tell me what this is about?”

“Meet me at the apartment and I’ll fill you in.”

Then he sent off a brief text to Eddie.

-Try The Devil’s End. It’s where we had Dustin’s birthday bash.

The reply was almost immediate.

-God I love you.

-On it, babe.

Steve smiled to himself as he put his phone away. He couldn’t repay Eddie back for how kind he had been tonight, but at least he could help with this.

He just hoped Gareth was okay.

He knew that this business could and would chew up the best of people and spit them back out again without a single care.

Having a double life helped keep Steve and his friends humble. But he had no doubts in his mind that that could change at any moment.

Because if it wasn’t the business that would do the trick, it would be the isolation of not being able to tell anyone about what they really do for a living.

If he was being honest with himself, had it not been for Eddie figuring out who he was, Steve would have bet on himself being the first to fall to the Beast.

Both of his parents were raging alcoholics and he knew for awhile there when he was in middle school, his mom had gotten into some pretty heavy drugs.

It was why his high school days were so lonely. Because his dad was either hauling her off to rehab, or going on long trips where he would cheat on her and the cycle would begin again.

But now, with Eddie to keep him grounded?

His bet was on Simon. Hands down. The guy was very insecure outside of his alter ego Asmodeus.

If Steve only knew.

Trouble was brewing on the horizon, just not in the way Steve had thought it would go.

****

Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 @a-little-unsteddie

@chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @danili666 @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach

@val-from-lawrence @goodolefashionedloverboi @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

@justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @yikes-a-bee @bookbinderbitch

@bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

@cinnamon-mushroomabomination @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian

@thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman @eyehartart @dawners

@thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade

@cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #rockstar steve harrington #rockstar eddie munson #rockstar au

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zedecksiew · 6 months ago

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TO PUT AWAY A SWORD

David Blandy + Daniel Locke's post-apocalyptic hopepunk TTRPG ECO MOFOS is back from the printers. Meaning it will soon be in our hands.

Am fairly hyped for it, because I wrote an adventure!

To Put Away A Sword is about the woes of building a home on poisoned earth. The terrible powers that hurtled us to the end of the world continue to bear bitter fruit in your garden.

You are villagers living under the shadow of a fallen giant mecha. Its reactors and warheads leak into your groundwater, poison your goats. What will you do about it? What can you do?

Mechanically it is a pointcrawl around your local valley. Not super complex, design-wise; but I was pleased with my gimmick solution for mapping both the adventure's dungeons:

Grab a mecha figure, pose it, place it on the game table; each part of the figure corresponds to a location in the dungeon key. Solves for stuff like relative orientation.

Easy!

To Put Away A Sword is me making a mecha adventure.

Disclaimer: I am not a mecha nerd. I am unfamiliar with most of the genre. Anything I know about Gundam I've absorbed by osmosis.

I was mainly into giant robots in childhood. Receiving a Macross figure for my birthday. Pouring over the manual for The Crescent Hawks' Revenge, which my brother left behind:

While I was not much a fan of mecha, I was very much a fan of Evangelion. I spent my middle teens obsessed with it. The biomechanical, pseudo-mystical stuff; the teen angst. I wanted to be Shinji. I thought trauma was so cool.

So cringe. Anyway:

One of the inspirations for To Put Away A Sword is the survivors-rebuilding-a-town-and-planting-rice sequence in Thrice Upon A Time; probably my favourite part of the whole franchise, now.

The joy and difficulties of trying to build your paradise in the weird ruins of the old world:

Yeah, the adventure has a lot of Evangelion in it. There's a Nerv HQ analogue to explore. There's a content warning for child soldiers.

The other inspiration for To Put Away A Sword is this piece of box art, an accessory set for Macross's iconic Stonewell Bellcom VF-1 Variable Fighter:

I don't know what this kind of arrange-your-missiles-in-front-of-your-fighter-jet photo is technically called. Hardware porn parade?

You see it often enough. Here's a real-life photo of the Lockheed Martin F35 Joint Strike Fighter:

Fairly or not, in my head I associate mecha with seeing copies of Jane's Defence in airport magazine racks. The genre feels like such a natural way to riff on the hyper-charged corpo-military-industrial complex.

After the brush war ends, and the natural resources extracted, and the ethnic cleansing concluded, and the profits announced, who gets to clean up after a Raytheon missile?

In To Put Away A Sword---you do.

Ultimately, as always, I am writing and designing from my lived experiences.

See that? The gas flare from the Hengyuan Refining Company? It is about 200 metres from my living room.

That gas flare surfaces constantly in the stuff I make. As I write this post I am breathing its acrid chemical smell. My nose itches. I was asthmatic as a child; I seriously worry about cancer, nowadays.

At night it lights up the sky like Barad-dur.

The plant obviously and continuously flaunts regulations. We've tried lodging complaints: with its corporate management; with the Department of Environment. Nothing has worked so far.

"A home on poisoned earth" is a visceral fact of my life.

To Put Away A Sword is wish-fulfilment, I guess? In the world of the adventure, at least, the forces that are poisoning your home are post-peak oil.

It is nice to imagine a reality where a kind of survival and flourishing is still possible. My partner Sharon and I talk a lot about imagining hope.

Last month she bought this small mecha-looking thing. A wireless camera! She built a little hut for it on our garden wall. It is trained, 24-7, at the gas flare.

Environmental activists we've met say video evidence of emissions is important. We'll see. We imagine it helping.

Anyway. David just sent me this photo of my adventure, in print:

Looking good. I hope folks play it and enjoy it.

Preorder ECO MOFOS and its adventure bundle >>>HERE<<<

#adventures #ttrpgs #eco mofos #writing #fantasies #mecha #real life #gas flares

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years ago

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don't hold hands, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: You're fucking your ex-boyfriend's ex-best friend. You also now own a condo with him and owning this condo has made you house-poor. Yeah, it's not the usual love story and it's not going to be one. Not until you paint the walls black, that is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mostly conversations and feels tbh; minor smut (fem reader, marking / scratching, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex); non-idol!AU; guitarist!music producer!Yoongi x novelist!reader - fwb / roommates-to-lovers

just a story about two people who shouldn't fall in love falling in love, I have plenty of nasty smut so this is a different beat for ya lmao

“Is it fun being tortured?”

“Not really, no.”

It wasn’t fair to be this critical but, as long as you didn’t let these words travel outside this room, it was fine, right? At least, you kept telling yourself that. Delusion at its finest.

“It’s so stupid that people enjoy sticking their nose in drama that doesn’t involve them only because their lives are too boring to have any,” you sighed, tossing your phone across your desk, letting it skid into a pile of post-its covered in scrawled notes. “All because I deleted some photos.”

Notifications were now blocked.

“Some people mistake privilege with right.”

You glared at your phone even though the contents were the offender and not the device. Rolled your eyes, knowing you would be coming back to a shitstorm, but you couldn’t take it anymore. There had to be a limit. And the voice beside you had been telling you to put the damn thing down and stop deleting comments one by one, but the stubborn ram in you thought you could just headbutt through the bullshit.

And that imagery was gonna end there, thank you very much.

Your forehead found the palm of your hand and you sighed again, suddenly feeling the weight.

“I’m never doing that again.”

“You don’t have to.”

Minutes passed.

Silence never felt so serene.

Then it was cut through by steady, slow acoustic guitar, the notes drifting out from behind you. It almost made you feel more guilty. Almost. How fucked was that? You, sitting here right now, staring at nearly bare walls and a table covered in notes and your trusty laptop, almost feeling guilty for the guy that had backed out of the joint loan for this condo in the city that you didn’t even fuckin’ want, but you had been too far into the process to not lose a whole lotta money and too angry to let yourself lose.

How ironic, feeling guilty for the guy who cheated on you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” was the guitar player’s response. “And you shouldn’t be either. For anything.”

You knew you shouldn’t apologize. It just felt like the thing to do, because you hadn’t been wholly right either and, even if you weren’t more in the wrong, you were still wrong, and wasn’t that fucked, putting levels of blame on a situation that, at the end of the day, was all said and done and left everybody bitter and full of scars.

The shitty part was everyone was on your case now and blaming you.

This was what you got for dating the lead singer of a punk band that skyrocketed to popularity on social media. Looked all elegant dark romance on TikTok and Instagram, just screaming and hate-fucking behind closed doors. Constant content to cover up the toxicity. And maybe it was your fault too, letting it get to your head that maybe you really were the beautiful, mysterious muse that the followers painted you out to be. You glossed over red flags – late nights, drugs and drinking, sleeping in rooms of girls that called themselves fans – all part of the industry. Nothing happened. Honest. But the greatest mistake was letting him tag you on Instagram. How cool was it that you were an author?

This bastard.

Not only had you given him some of your best quotes for his lyrics, but now you couldn’t publish those words as your own because this bastard would fuckin’ sue you for plagiarizing.

The guitar continued behind you, on the mattress on the floor.

So, not only were you getting crucified on social media at the moment because he had called you a backhanded bitch in his Instagram stories but also because you had deleted all photos of him on your profile and said fucking nothing. Silence to be polite and all that. He cheated on you, he was leaving you for some whore you had plenty of suspicions about, and, worst of all, he waited until you and him were finalizing the down payment for this expensive-ass-fuck high-rise condo – that money was out of your own pocket, not his, how convenient – and backed out of the loan for the mortgage. His reasoning?

You cheated on him first.

Hello?

With his former guitarist.

Hello?

Your ex-boyfriend had fired his former guitarist ages ago because you and him had gotten too friendly.

Alright, man.

You liked the guy, sure. Talked to him when he was in the studio and found you had a lot in common. Plus, he was crazy talented. Made most of the melodies, self-produced a lot of the songs for the band so they could save money, even contributed to lyric writing so they didn’t have to spend on that either. He even had a good voice, although sadly the band rarely used it. Your art of words paired with his knowledge of music made some viral hits. But then tensions rose between him and your ex when they started butting heads for no reason (there was a reason and it was ugly jealousy). Then arguments rose between you and your ex, but instead of breaking up, you buried yourself into writing your next novel to let the situation cool off.

Sigh, okay, call a spade a spade.

You were avoiding the confrontation.

He fired his guitarist and got a new one.

Then things were good.

Until they weren’t.

Of course, they weren’t. You didn’t solve shit, and he was fucking every girl that threw themselves at him behind your back. Good thing you had strict rules about condoms, otherwise you would probably have some lasting consequences right now. So, when the ground cracked and split apart from under you, what did you do?

Yup, this was the part that made you no better.

You found that former guitarist and fucked him.

Word travelled around. Word also travelled around that somehow you got someone to be part of that insane loan you got talked into. And, oh, shit, did things get messy once a certain someone knew who it was.

But here you were.

Feeling guilty.

You probably couldn’t publish for at least six months to a year because, harrowingly, your demographic was young adult – you had even relied on social media for self-marketing, fuck – and the half of a novel you had now had to be scrapped considering that so many of the quotes were now distressed in dark venues by the lips of an egomaniacal dick that you allowed into your pussy far too many times. Once was already too many.

Fuck.

You didn’t even want to live in the city.

It’ll be so much easier for me to get bigger opportunities. Don’t be a selfish bitch and only think about yourself.

You wanted to scream.

You wanted to throw your laptop into the wall and break it into smithereens, but you didn’t because this piece of technology was currently your only chance of making money. Fuck. Me. Always talking about himself like he was only important member of the band, even though it was the other guys who wrote most of the music and lyrics. No one sided with you, obviously. This was their job and technically not their romance. They were sympathetic but not empathetic to the point of jeopardizing their jobs. Obviously, you hadn’t signed any contracts for royalties or credit. This was supposed to be your soulmate.

Soulmates weren’t so generous to give you pennies.

You’re being greedy and self-important. Oh, so you’re only in the relationship for the money? I’ll give you money once we make it big. Once we get it all, I’ll buy you everything you want. But you gotta help me out now. We’re starving artists, ya know?

You should have asked your parents for monetary help, but you didn’t. Your pride didn’t want to hear the told-you-so speeches for dating a guy they didn’t choose for you. You also didn’t want the arranged marriage appointments back in your life either.

So.

Trapped in white walls, post-its of false starts, and impending doom.

Dramatic, but you were a writer.

“Come here and sit down with me.”

Some part of you didn’t want to face him. It was really dumb. He was your new roommate now. You were fucking him when you were too sad to avoid it, and it was pretty obvious he knew. You were living off his money. Sure, he only paid for half the rent but then food mysteriously appeared in the fridge, bathroom necessities were stocked when they were running low, cleaning supplies neatly sorted into the closet, and all that other shit. None of that wholesale stuff either, but the nicer things normal households could afford.

It wasn’t an exaggeration that you cried into the soap during your shower last night.

All because you finally acknowledged it wasn’t one of those shitty bars that made skin feel like plastic but actually fragrant lathering liquid that you could put on the dense, not-falling-apart-in-one-use loofah that you hadn’t bought. You would have been satisfied with cutting coupons and living on the dregs of the bare minimum, but someone cared enough to not let you do that, and you currently couldn’t do anything to contribute and probably couldn’t for a while.

And that made you feel undeserving.

Maybe you were only fucking him because that was all you could offer.

Pathetic.

The guitarist called your name softly.

Like a beaten dog, you got up and sat down beside Min Yoongi.

He continued to play a melody you didn’t know on his black acoustic guitar. He hadn’t moved in all his instruments and equipment yet. You had told him he could have the whole living room for his studio. He had asked if you were sure and you responded that you were sure that you weren’t going to have anybody over ever so, unless he wanted a living room space, you didn’t want one.

“Shit always happens, you know,” the deep voice reminded you.

“This happening was of my own doing and now I’ve ruined my own life,” you muttered, bitter over a boy and hating that you were bitter over a boy.

A small chuckle. “You have to admit you had help.”

Stupid boy.

“Can’t be helped. Humans are animals of regret.”

It stung to regret.

The guitar playing stopped and now you were met with silence.

Don’t cry.

But it was so tiring to be angry. So easy to be sad. So easy to think, my fault, for being swept up in what he was but not who he was, for believing that you knew what was best when clearly it wasn’t, for being spiteful on purpose. For avoiding looking at Yoongi in the face because you were too ashamed to acknowledge what was going on here.

For being too afraid to ask what he thought of it.

“I regretted not stealing you from him sooner. Thought you were too fuckable for that loser from the first day we met.”

A strange feeling.

Skin prickling, glancing the that pale hand of graceful, callused fingers simply resting on the neck of that guitar, not looking at Yoongi’s face even though you knew it quite well in profile.

“That’s one way to make me feel better,” you replied.

“I’m not trying to make you feel better. Just being honest,” he replied, tapping his fingertips on the wood. “You are ten times too talented and a hundred times too pretty for a guy like that.”

You twitched. “Are you shitting on my standards?”

“Back then? Yeah, I am.” A calm hum, setting aside his guitar and placing his elbows on his sweatpants-covered knees, charcoal gray and worn. “Pretty clear you went full desperado for a guy that didn’t deserve it. Also, he ain’t hot shit like he thinks he is.”

Ow and what the fuck. “Fuck off.”

You felt movement and tracked his hand raising, spinning a finger around his temple. A brief glance and the details sank in. Long, windswept black waves, light cream skin, pointed gaze directed forward and not at you, pensive slight frown of pink lips. You looked away again, past his loose white t-shirt and to your hands.

You used to be proud of them.

They used to be able to type prose like no other.

Now they were twisted in an oversized, olive-green sweatshirt that you picked up from the sale bin of the convenience store for dirt cheap and they didn’t write jack shit.

You also hated olive-green.

Nothing personal. It just wasn’t your color.

“You’re a psycho bitch to put up with him,” Yoongi commented.

He wasn’t wrong. “I’m a psycho bitch all the time.”

“Yeah, and I don’t date crazy.”

You thought you would feel insulted, but you were past the point of caring. Also, there was something about the way his calm voice said it. Like he knew what he was doing. Huh. That was a silly thing to think. Of course, Yoongi knew what he was doing. He did it. He let you in his studio when you tracked it down and camped out until he showed up. He had listened to your psychobabble and didn’t back away when you pinned him to the wall.

This wasn’t dating.

“At least, I thought I didn’t,” Yoongi added, not touching you.

He fucked you too. He wasn’t a starfish in bed, that was for sure.

“I wanted to get back at him too, you know,” that deep, hazy voice murmured beside you. “That bastard turned my friends against me, stole my mixes, and cut out all my connections. Made me start from the ground up, alone.”

Yeah, you did know that. You helped badmouth Yoongi. In the name of love.

Shit.

“Sorry.”

“You’re not sorry.”

Ouch.

“And you shouldn’t be, ‘cause what’s done is done and being sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

You untwisted your hands from each other, realizing your knuckles were white from anxiousness, and relaxed them on your bare knees. Best you could, anyway.

“Yeah,” was the best response you had. This fucking boy ruined your life and stole your eloquence too, apparently. Motherfucker. “You’re right.”

Neither you or Yoongi said anything.

Minutes passed.

Another night in the condo and both of you were sitting on a mattress with a single blanket, deflated pillows, and a box of condoms on the floor.

You touched his forearm the same time his hand moved to grip your thigh.

And then it was the don’t-look-him-in-the-eyes challenge, and he was doing the exact same thing, eyes averted, black hair over them, lips grazing your jaw. Breath against your ear. Hot. His neck under your lips, flexed, fair skin with remnants of bruises, and your teeth sank in, making new ones, listening to his hiss and feeling his hands slide under your sweatshirt. Weighted palms and blunt nails. Digging in.

“Harder.”

He scratched you up as you climbed into his lap, tasting flesh.

Those firm hands gripped your hips and forced them down. Grinding. Softness to growing hardness, unhooking your bra, hands all over like you had lost your mind, your thighs squeezing his sides, yanking his shirt collar down and licking up his collarbone, dripping spit, shivering as you saw it glisten over his marred skin.

Clothes coming off, thrown aside. Guitar sliding to the hardwood floor as bodies tumbled. Your hands on his chest, your hard nipples pressed into the sheets as Yoongi slipped his hand into your hair and shoved your head down. Mouth open, tongue curling around. Moan striking the air, echoing in the nothingness.

Hard, hot, now wet.

Up, down, hitting the back of your throat, unable to choke in the adrenaline of lust, in need, in desire for pain, rubbing your tongue all over as Yoongi face-fucked you hard and fast, thick cock swelling in your mouth, your lips grazing the swollen head and making him shudder, saliva slipping down your chin that was smacking into his balls.

Was it shameful that you were good at it?

Sex solved nothing but you sure had a lot of it as if it did.

A sharp gasp and salty cum filled your throat, drinking, swallowing with effort and the burning sensation of your locked jaw, maintaining the soft tightness. Tongue tracing the contours, keeping him hard, hearing the rip of a foil packet above your head.

You hadn’t even realized that Yoongi had let go of your hair, letting you lick him all over at your own pace.

“What position?” Yoongi panted, husky and breathless in the mostly empty bedroom.

Mattress, chair, desk, laptop. Oh, and guitar.

Bodies on the floor.

You didn’t say anything.

You just turned around and slid down, elbows on the bed, knees spread, ass up.

“Alright then.”

You bit your lower lip.

You almost turned your head, almost looked back, just to check, right, just to check he was okay with it, and then strong hands gripped your hips, lifting them, sliding in, condom on and stretching you out right away, his knees pushing your knees apart and forcing you to arch your back for the angle.

No chance to look back.

You gasped, gripping the sheets, blinded by pleasure and the fading resonance of pain.

Hard.

Deep.

You pushing back, deep not deep enough, hitting your preferred depth and letting your eyelids flutter, veins burning with the repeated ecstasy. One of your hands lifted and reached back, squeezing his hand on your hip, and the grip became tighter, fingertips digging in, smacking his hips into your ass, and your body threatened to throw him back, carnal power meeting his every thrust, clenching around his hard length, and you could hear Yoongi growl your name, low and deep and voracious.

Somehow, his name fell from your lips too.

Rough and sinful, no better than an animal.

His nails dug into your back and dragged down, burning lines into your skin.

Your head tipped back and you moaned, a clear, shameless sound that would become familiar to this ceiling. Pooling wildfire, tightening muscles, wasted nectar sticky between joined thighs, surge after shivering surge of orgasmic apex stinging your veins as you barely registered Yoongi’s shudder and blissful groan, feeling the pulse inside you made than hearing the sound.

The rush of blood roaring in your ears was far too loud for you to hear anything.

Your face felt hot, so hot.

Gripping the sheets, twisting them, pulling them off the edge of the bed.

This moment.

Very few things were as intense and exigent as an orgasm. Fleeting, but a violently memorable. Pure nothingness of soaring high. You chased it. Again. And again. And again, your fingers tangled in Yoongi’s dark hair, pulling it over his face but he didn’t look at you anyway, eyes closed and teeth trapping his lower lip, breath trapped in his chest, driving his hips into yours again and again.

You both kept going until the limits were reached.

The darkness willingly swallowed you up.

Min Yoongi always considered himself a rational person, which was precisely why he found himself entangled in the break-up between his former best friend and the only woman he ever considered committing a felony for.

Yeah.

He also didn’t believe in love at first sight.

She was still way too hot for that idiot though.

His eyes could communicate well enough with his dick. The short skirt and exposed thighs didn’t really help either. Still, Yoongi had let it be. Respect was keeping his distance despite racing heartbeat and keeping calm despite shaking hands. He got used to it once the late-night talks about music and wordplay became a regular thing. Sometimes they talked about general life and were surprised on how well they aligned. Still, she never spoke poorly about her then-boyfriend even though there was plenty to talk about.

Scorched earth was their sacred ground.

It was painful to witness.

Yoongi regretted valuing the friendship, mostly because it didn’t mean jack shit at the end of the day. He regretted believing in the elegant, age-old saying.

Bros before hoes.

Tch.

But mostly, Yoongi regretted pretending like nothing was wrong.

He would see the pain in her expression and not say anything. Watch her pack it all away and greet him with warmth that he didn’t deserve because he had a racing heart and shaking hands every time they met. He would watch his former best friend disappear into hotel rooms without explanation and Yoongi knew damn well it wasn’t right, but he kept his mouth shut because he was a coward, something he figured out later.

He could have washed his hands clean of that shitshow, but instead his hands had held her shaking shoulders and watched her struggle not to cry on that cold night.

Yoongi considered himself a rational person, but never a good one.

Too many ways to judge, and her lips had already connected with his as soon as his shoulder blades hit the wall. He didn’t stop it. Maybe it was bitterness. Vengeance. Hate.

No, it wasn’t any of that, actually.

He didn’t know exactly what but, in that moment, Yoongi knew that he would murder that asshole if he saw his former best friend’s face right then, ready to commit a felony all because those beautiful eyes couldn’t look at him, closing instead to blink back the tears that bastard didn’t deserve.

That meant something, all right.

He knew it could take a long time. He knew it would almost certainly be hopeless. He knew he would probably end up with a broken heart and broke as hell. He knew it was a bad idea and he knew it was going to tear him up, this spiral, but when he found himself looking up to the ceilings of these mostly empty rooms, this condo he now half-owed with the woman that was formerly his best friend’s girlfriend, and Yoongi found he didn’t know and he didn’t care what the future held.

She had trouble sleeping.

Less trouble after exhausting themselves.

He had trouble sleeping too, but that was because he was staring at the ceiling and wondering just how rational he really was. One hand behind his head, under the pillow. The other resting on the blanket, on the curve of her hip, feeling the steady hum of her breathing.

She never cried in front of him.

He knew she did cry, because he heard her in the bathroom sometimes. But never in front of him. Showed anger, yes, but never acted helpless even though it was perfectly reasonable to feel that way after everything that happened. Living on the least for his sake, even to the point of skipping meals and spending all her time trying to write, trying to get back to her livelihood, trying to get past all the false starts. Personally, Yoongi felt that she should give up for now and heal herself, but he also knew how it felt to feel stubborn and useless.

Hah.

It was weird, being so close and yet so far away.

He felt it most in the nighttime, even though that was when he was closest to her.

He was never going to be the same. He knew that. He already wasn’t, surprising himself with his own recklessness, and for what? He didn’t even know what she was capable of reciprocating after receiving all those scars. Didn’t even know if he was the right one, if he was better or worse, if…

If he was believing in something that wasn’t there.

Yoongi closed his eyes and went to sleep.

Livid.

It was weird. Feeling it. In the past, you buried it, numb, and promptly lived in delusion. But now you could feel it. What was more, you let yourself feel it. There wasn’t anything to stop you except for the occasional mental peanut gallery of you’re a bad person if you feel jealousy, but anger could overtake anything if you let it.

You stared at the scene before you, several meters away.

Seething.

It felt good.

Mostly because it was honest.

It surprised you. You hadn’t expected to feel anything. Sad, maybe. You had already been cheated on, so naturally you assumed the cycle would begin anew, just with less promises and in the gray area of uncertainty. But, no, instead of being distraught and delusional, you felt maddeningly, viciously, nearly on-the-edge of making a fist and dislocating Min Yoongi’s jaw from his skull because he was speaking to a female-presenting human at the entrance of the building that housed his and others’ music studios.

Did you lack context? Yes.

Would that get you arrested? Yeah, probably.

Would that probably not get you laid anymore and label you as an unhinged psychopath? Without a doubt.

But would it feel good?

Don’t know.

You had never punched someone before, although maybe you should have practiced on your ex-boyfriend. He was probably a more deserving candidate. In any case, you remained frozen in perplexation at your willingness for violence because you were pretty sure your… relations… with Yoongi were nothing more than a lonely bitch and a spiteful silver tongue executing revenge, so the amount of fucks you should give about Yoongi speaking to any human being – other than the obvious health and safety precautions – should be zero.

None.

Basket of fucks empty.

And yet.

Clearly wasn’t since you were mentally calculating the angle and force for jaw dislocation while having zero experience in doing so. In any sort of non-virtual manner, that is.

Hm.

Your hands were firmly in the pockets of your black cargo pants. The hip ones, although you had plenty of choice. You kept them there for the safety of passerby or, maybe deep down, yourself. This caused your jacket to fall open, the outlines of the sew-on patches and thick, bunched-up black denim crowding the space between your forearm and waist, your black cropped tank exposed to the chill evening air. You used to wear a plethora of band t-shirts, but, well, those were probably in a landfill or rotting in a secondhand shop.

You figured you would be cold. Unsurprisingly, the anger kept you warm.

Huh.

You thought about turning around and just straight up leaving, petty and picturesque of course, and then Yoongi seemed to sense your projected violence, looking up from the conversation. Dark waves over his cheeks, striking body line, backing away, hiding his eyes for a moment, not that you could see them that well from this distance. You twitched.

The girl reached out.

Yoongi simply bowed, out of reach, and pushed the glass door open.

Honestly, her role in this moment was so miniscule that you completely ignored whatever she did or possibly could have said to Yoongi’s retreating back. Sharpened gaze, and then he crossed the street with the crowd, walking past oblivious bystanders who may or may not become the harrowed audience of the next thirty seconds.

He stopped before you. Bomber jacket, white shirt, black track pants. Monochrome elegance.

You looked up at him, saying nothing.

Over one shoulder was his usual guitar bag that held said instrument and his yellow notepad sticking out of the pocket. He used it to jot down whatever came to him. You almost said something. Almost. Then you remembered that if this, this between you and Min Yoongi, if this was supposed to be nothing, then weren’t you supposed to do nothing but voice your casual annoyance for making you wait rather than, well.

Admit insecurity?

You looked away quickly.

No, it did not matter how reasonable it was, you didn’t like knowing that somehow you had been weakened by an ex-boyfriend, barely a man, no, a mere locust at best, so it was better to not say anything and accept that this was–

“Sorry, I got caught up with the staff about ending my lease.”

Compromised.

You didn’t look at him. “What?”

“Gonna end my lease this month and move my studio stuff to the condo. I can’t afford both.”

He had told you this already. It had been your idea. You already knew you were overreacting to a situation that you created in your head rather than reality. And, yet, the best your mind would allow was uh huh, a plausible explanation, sarcasm included.

“Ah. Right,” was your sharp, mildly frigid reply.

“I can’t read your mind.”

Do you intend to be exhausting?

Your mental peanut gallery was super annoying.

You breathed in. Cool, crisp air. The sound of cars and people bustling in and out of stores. You breathed in again. Did you really intend to be exhausting, irrational, and, worst of all, dishonest? Really, after all that had happened? After getting here, standing here, arriving to pick up Yoongi at his request to do the grocery shopping together?

You turned back to look right into black-brown, piercing orbs.

“I just realized that I have the ability to be jealous,” you exhaled, draining your lungs. “It’s unpleasant and not nearly as delightfully pivotal as the media makes it out to be.”

Something fluttered in those orbs.

Or maybe it was the wind catching his bangs, drifting black strands over his eyes shadowed by dark circles.

Yoongi half-smiled.

“Makes for good songwriting material though.”

There was an air of helplessness to his words. A tone you couldn’t define, except for the understanding, which left you both baffled and with a sense of guilt. There were emotions in that barely-there smirk on those familiar lips. Relief. Maybe a slight bit of shame. A shadow of guilt too. You realized people were glancing at you and him as they walked past, wondering why you both were at a standstill on the sidewalk. Yoongi seemed to not notice them or care.

You pulled your hands out of your pockets.

“Come on. We should go before it gets dark.”

Before you noticed it, your hand was rising.

You pulled it back, but not fast enough.

Yoongi’s free hand reached out and grasped around yours, strong fingers enclosing. Sliding up, calluses on your palm. Your hand lowered, slowly, your eyes moving in the opposite direction. Lips parting. His hand was colder than yours.

You stared at Yoongi.

He looked back, expression unreadable.

“I don’t hold hands,” you said, suddenly breathless.

You tightened your grip.

“Neither do I,” Yoongi replied, taking a step, on the cusp of walking past you, his hand around yours. “I simply just don’t like the idea of yours getting cold when I can do something about it.”

Previously, when you held hands, it was always with a purpose of showing public affection. The look-how-real-this-is-because-there-are-clear-witnesses show. Front row tickets nobody asked for. But this.

This.

You blinked hard and the sting was inside.

The sting of wasted time.

Your name in that raspy, soft voice. Familiar. You looked up, not saying anything and hoping the eye contact was enough. All Yoongi did was smile lightly and tug your hand.

“Let’s get take-out and shop tomorrow. We have plenty of time to eat healthier.”

“You can cry in front of me.”

Min Yoongi heard her breath hitch and still.

Seconds that felt like hours ticked by. It was the dead of night. Or maybe one could call it the time when honesty came to life, if the conditions were right. He knew this time well usually with a drink in his hand, but this time he was laying on his side with bruises of bites and carnal memories lingering on his fingertips.

“I wasn’t crying.��

Her voice was thick and strained from trying to keep it even. Her moment of jealousy had happened days ago. He had recognized it right away. Call it personal experience. He also recognized that she didn’t like to feel that way. It was obvious from her torn yet furious expression. It confirmed a lot of things for him. Still, she seemed pleased to help him move and set up his things in the bedroom. They found the living room to be a bit too echoey due to the large space so they switched the two, pulling the mattress to the living room and setting up his equipment in the center of what was formerly the bedroom.

He told her to paint the condo.

She had mentioned in passing that someday she would like to paint her entire living space black. Not this place, because he owned it too, and you probably think I’m crazy for wanting a dark space, huh, Yoongi? He asked her, why wait? No one lives forever. We’re just passing through.

She had given him a weird look.

We own this condo. Paint it.

There were cans of black paint waiting.

Yoongi had intended to go visit his family over the weekend. His parents and his brother who had recently been promoted to head chef at the classy restaurant he worked at. Someone in the family needed to have prestige. Well, that was his own personal feeling. Surprisingly at this point his parents had given up on telling him to get a higher-paying job. They told him to simply be happy.

And get married.

Yeah, about that.

He was still trying to get used to the music producer thing, for fuck’s sake.

“Are you afraid I won’t understand?” Yoongi let himself say, not turning around yet.

Sometimes, people didn’t want you to see them weak. He could understand that.

Call it personal experience.

A shuddering sigh. Deep breaths. Words bogged down, drained.

“I can only be so pathetic before I lose my mind recalling the past,” she mumbled. He felt her weight deepen on her side of the bed, as if she was trying to melt into the mattress. “I made things hard for myself. For you. It’s pointless to cry about it anyway. In the end, it only makes me look ungrateful.”

Yoongi thought about it.

“It’s true that you probably shouldn’t have involved me.”

He shifted, laying on his back now.

“But I’m not a good person either. I agreed, after all,” he murmured, his skin tingling with bruises and carnal memories. “Hm, to be honest, he was always a dick though, from high school till now. Always will be, I fear.”

“You’re easygoing enough not to be affected by his asshole behavior.”

“Not my job to change people. I leave that to parents and clueless fools.”

A pensive silence. Surprisingly not an irritated one. She seemed to accept it.

“Why did you become his friend?” she asked, staring at the ceiling with him.

“We just happened to like the same thing. Music.”

“I’m lucky you decided to become his friend.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Then, “I’m lucky that somehow he managed to bamboozle a hot and clever girl, two things he’s obviously not.”

She almost laughed. Almost.

“Who the fuck uses the word bamboozle?”

“You had to admit you were bamboozled, because you sure as hell weren’t dick-drunk.”

“Oh? You think you’re that good, huh?”

“No, I just know he’s that much worse.”

The faintest of chuckles.

“You… You get better every time,” she admitted. “I think I just caught you off guard the first time.”

“Firstly, I don’t like wasting time and, secondly, I had given up for a while before…” I met you. “Romance seemed like an expensive, worthless distraction when I could be using that time and money trying to push the band forward,” he pivoted, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “Then that went to shit.”

“Sorry.”

Automatic.

He chuckled darkly. “I’m confident I got the better deal.”

A trembling pause.

“Why do you think that?”

He reached over and placed his palm on the top of her head, lacing his fingers in her hair. Messing it up.

“Tell me the truth. Was he good at sex?”

A burst of laughter. “Really? Alright. No, he wasn’t. He sucked. Thought he was a piston of a muscle car instead of a human being. Oh, and once he fell asleep on top of me.”

He cocked an eyebrow. Turned his head and forced hers to turn as well.

She was smiling.

Yoongi found his chest tight and breath shallow.

“And you didn’t leave him then… why?” he pressed.

She winced, albeit playfully. “I yelled at him. A lot. I don’t know, maybe he was tired.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I know, I know…” Sigh. “I… I didn’t want to believe I made the wrong choice.” Her eyes shifted, but her body was still turned to face his. “I… It made my entire family angry, dating him. Especially my parents. They would never forgive me and hold it over my head forever. I had to make it work. I thought, if only I worked hard enough…” Another heavy breath, squeezing her eyes tightly. “I know it was pride, but I wanted to prove to them and myself that I could do anything. Bad choices? Maybe. But they were mine. I don’t want my life decided by what is best for me. If I suffer for it, those are my consequences.”

Her eyes opened, but barely.

Yoongi kept his hand on her head, running his fingers through her hair.

“I… I feel like shit because now you’re stuck in my mistakes,” she breathed.

He liked to touch her hair. It felt comforting.

“You know what your problem is?”

She glared under lashes and dared him.

Undeterred, he continued. “You blame yourself for shit that hasn’t even happened.”

A disapproving frown. “Hah?”

He tapped her forehead. “You think it’ll bother me if you cry, but what truly bothers me is that you cry alone.” Pushed back the strands, and now he was closer, sharing breath. “You think I’m stuck in your mistakes. Mistakes don’t inherently have only negative consequences. They almost always exist in a gray area.”

“I... I know that,” she grumbled, face against his chest.

“I did say you were clever.”

A drifting, drowsy silence.

“I’m not clever,” she whispered to his skin, pulling her body closer. “I just like you.”

Yoongi felt himself losing to sleep.

“I’ve always liked you, since the moment I saw you,” he muttered into her hair, breathing in the familiar scent, so quietly that he wasn’t sure if he said it at all.

“Ah? Yes? Sorry about that. Oh, yes, uh, I’m painting. Everything. Yes, I’ll be sure the keep the windows open. Thank you.”

You closed the front door of the condo. Well. You had expected nervousness, but somehow the conversation between you and the downstairs neighbor had been very calm. Apparently, he worked from home and wasn’t expecting the loud crash of the ladder from your unit.

In your defense, you hadn’t expected it either.

Thankfully, you hadn’t been on the ladder, only trying to figure out how to set it up. It was one of those compact ones that saved space but required some innovative thinking to get the taller height you needed. One crash and a YouTube video later, the ladder was now secure, and then came the knock on the front door.

The thoughts flew by – I don’t belong here, I can’t do this alone, they’re going to scold me and I haven’t even done the upper half yet – but the guy just seemed curious and confused. Didn’t even comment on your awkward outfit of navy boys’ basketball shorts and ill-fitted gray sports bra. Both on super sale. You were still wearing your bra because of the incorrect size, so the gray blob was bordering on ugly-ass tank top.

Look.

Some people had clothing they didn’t care about to paint in and some people had to dive in sale bins because they left behind most of their wardrobe and, with the clothes, their bad memories.

That was the intent.

Things rarely go as intended.

For instance, you thought you were going to feel imposter syndrome for a neighbor knowing that you were painting your own goddamn walls. You turned away from the door after you locked it, frowning. That’s right. Like it or not, bad decisions and minus an ex-boyfriend later, these were your walls. You looked up, out the large, floor-to-ceiling living room windows, and saw the sunlight sparkle over the sprawling city, walls painted half-black and half white surrounding you, and you could say that you never wanted to be here, but.

It was a sick view.

We own this condo. Paint it.

Your muscles were sore from the repeated swiping motion of the paint roller, but there was still this inexplicable energy coursing through you.

“What if it doesn’t look good?” you had asked Yoongi.

He had shrugged. “Then we paint it again.”

“It’ll be dark.”

“Wow, really? I thought black was supposed to be bright and cheerful,” was the sarcastic quip. “Just believe you have good taste and paint the damn walls.”

This condo was an investment that made you poor.

That was the truth you needed to face.

You have good taste.

You scrunched your face slightly as you remembered Yoongi’s facial expression. Was he… praising you or himself? You squinted. This guy. Picked up the paint roller again and saturated it with ink black, making crispy crinkly sounds as you shuffled over the plastic. Good taste. Well, that was relative, wasn’t it? Everything was at the end of the day. You climbed onto the ladder and began the repetitive, monotone motion once more but at a higher elevation. You should have put your music back on. Your phone was on the plastic-covered mattress and you were not about to go back down until you finished this section or ran out of paint. This was going to be a long process, but you had several days and too much time as Yoongi had already left to visit his family.

Now you were alone with a lot of paint and mind-numbing fumes.

Shit, you should have opened the window.

You would have to paint a second coat anyway. Who cared if the first coat was shitty?

Sigh.

Climbing down and doing your due diligence before returning to your post.

You had forgotten once again to put your music back on. Hah. Well, that was fine; you had yourself. You didn’t mind being alone. Heh, sometimes it was better to be alone. You continued rolling away, hardworking in the consistent rhythm. Thinking about it now, this might have been the first time in a long time that you were okay with being alone. Before, you had felt guilty whenever you weren’t thinking about your relationship. Huh. Odd. Was it some kind of mental self-reassurance when you knew something was off? It was hard to tell, but possible.

Everything was off about that relationship. You just had too much pride to admit it.

You sighed, climbing back down to reload.

Wait a second. Was this why there was that wider step towards the top of the ladder? You poured some more paint in the tray and carried it up with you. Oh shit. Wow. Innovation. You coughed and went back to a different patch of wall. No one saw that. See, perks of being alone.

Well, you didn’t hate Yoongi being here.

You stopped painting.

You didn’t just think that.

You went back to painting. Shut up, nagging feeling. You furiously painted on, ignoring your soreness, telling that little voice in your head to shut up, because there were plenty of reasons not to think stuff like that. Firstly, you weren’t ready to think stuff like that. And what if it was only hopeful transference rather than genuine feeling? Asshole or not, your ex-boyfriend’s betrayal of trust was not something so easily overcome. It wasn’t fair to Yoongi either, pretending to like him if you weren’t sure.

You liked Yoongi before you broke up, too.

Wasn’t that fucked up?

You sighed and came back down, careful to scoot the ladder without spilling and causing a mess. Back up and at it. Of course, it was fucked up. And you knew it was, which might have been why you let it get that bad. Might? Was why you let it get that bad. Two hypocrites were meant for each other. You huffed, puffing your cheeks. It wasn’t enough to hold the ticking grenade; you had needed confirmation it was a, in fact, a bomb.

Maybe even hoping it would end you.

It didn’t.

For some reason, you thought Yoongi could see that in you.

Damn, he’s really living in your system, hm?

You frowned.

Your phone rang.

You almost jumped, startled at the sudden sound of an old song you used to enjoy. Back when you were a teenager, and the memories came back as you climbed down. A kid who just really liked rock’n’roll, and parents who did not, but that kid didn’t care, annoyingly setting it as her ringtone on her shitty flip phone. Couldn’t you be her again? Before you had time to ponder, you checked your hands for paint and picked up your phone, answering it.

“Hello?”

“Did you eat?”

You blinked, sitting down on the crinkly plastic upon hearing that deep, raspy voice. “Uh, no. I was gonna stop by the convenience store when the first coat was done.”

“No, you weren’t. You were gonna skip a meal,” Min Yoongi tutted. “Because you don’t want to be a nuisance and use the money I had left you.”

Damn. He knew you, all right.

“If I forget, I forget,” you grumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, pick up the food order from the front desk when it comes. They told me about thirty minutes.”

“You don’t have to order food for me. I’m not a kid,” you hissed.

“It’s the pho spot you like and if I don’t put food in front of you, you won’t eat. You intend to do all that hard work without some fuel?” A pause. You made a disapproving noise. “And I know you’re not a kid. By the way, what’s your waist measurement?”

You remained a grump. “Why?”

“I’m here, so I’m going to buy you some clothes.”

“Don’t buy me clothes. Don’t spend money–”

“You need things,” Yoongi cut you off. “Unless you want to come with me? You don’t trust me?”

“That’s not it and you know it,” you snapped back. “It’s not worth–”

“Of course, it isn’t. It’s vain and silly and superficial. And I’m still going to buy you things, so tell me your waist measurement.”

“Yoongi, this is your hard-earned money,” you puffed out, exasperated.

“Yeah, and I make money to provide you with a good life because I think you are the most important person to me. So, do you want me to guess with my hands or are you going to meet me halfway?”

Dead silence.

He called your name, softly.

You told him in centimeters.

“Got it. Don’t forget to check the front desk in thirty minutes.”

“I love you.”

His hair was stuck to his face due to sweat. “What?”

“I said I love you,” she said, staring right at him, their chests shuddering from exertion.

Yoongi couldn’t believe it, but also he wasn’t surprised. The room still smelled faintly like paint. The windows still had no curtains or blinds. They were still fucking on the mattress in the center of the living room and he was holding the used condom when she said I love you.

The walls and ceiling were all black, covering them in darkness as the city below glimmered with light.

“I love you,” was his reply.

It startled him, the suddenness of his response. He knew he did. Of course, he did, and he turned away quickly, making his way to the kitchen and throwing away the condom, skin tingling, cheeks aflame, and he was startled by the feeling that remained. He hadn’t expected those words to come out of her mouth even though he was sure of his own feelings. Yoongi had resigned himself to not hear it from her lips. He also didn’t need to hear it to know that it was true.

He saw her head to the bathroom.

Time was funny sometimes.

Suddenly they were both staring at each other on the mattress, the usual ritual completed, and the moment suspended.

“You didn’t have to say it,” he finally said. “For my sake.”

“I didn’t.” Her hair curled over her shoulder, caressing her curves. “I said it for my sake.”

Blankets and pillows and questions.

“I wondered about the validity of it,” she admitted to him. “Been wrong before and all that. Might still be wrong. So, I said it just to see if I regretted it.”

“Ah.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“Do you?” he asked.

She shook her head. “No.”

He half-smiled. How very simple yet complicated. He understood. “All the paint fumes really got to your head, huh?”

She looked up at him and he realized with a start that she, too, was half-smiling.

He reached out, smoothing her hair.

“You have a pretty face, Yoongi,” she teased, eyes sparkling.

He raised an eyebrow.

“I thought it would be too cliché, you and me,” she continued and the tone was different now, softer and more serious. “I thought you would get tired.”

She meant, of me.

He had thought this was cliché too. Cliché didn’t mean worthless though. His hand fell, and rested over hers without a second thought. Warm and against the sheets. “If I felt that way, I would have stopped speaking to you long ago. You could take care of yourself too.” Not safely, but could. “Except for money.”

She smirked.

“So you’re saying I need a suga daddy.”

Yoongi twitched.

“Part of me wanted to sell the condo as soon as possible,” she went on, casually glossing over the comment. “But the realtor said it would be a bad idea. I wouldn’t have any buyers without a minimum of six months or a year. Too many superstitions. Part of me thought I should…”

She looked up to the ceiling.

It was a high-rise, after all.

“All the reasons to move here were his. More convenient, better opportunities, owning rather than renting for the investment… I believed in it, more than myself.”

He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t because all those things had benefitted him already. He didn’t only agree to move in help her out. He was still a working music producer. But she didn’t seem to be saying it to condone him.

“I didn’t really think this place was mine until I painted the walls.”

Yoongi thought he should at least confess this part. “That’s why I told you to paint them.”

A small laugh. “You don’t like it, huh?”

“Don’t you remember the walls of the old studio were dark gray? That was my doing. I always resented the last place I rented because they didn’t let me paint the walls.”

“Ah… He painted over the gray.”

“I bet he did.”

They had fallen to the bed now, side by side.

“I didn’t think this would work out,” she breathed.

“I thought it might,” he hummed.

“Why?”

“You’re hot and clever and I wanted you from the first day I saw you.”

A warm chuckle. “Just like that?”

“Well, you had to give me a chance. Couldn’t make the first move due to the circumstances.”

“It was a convoluted and confusing one.”

“Eh, life’s unfair.”

“Your husband already paid.”

Your what?

“What?”

The cashier waved you away. You shuffled back, dazed, seeing Min Yoongi emerge from the bathroom in the corner of the restaurant, tucking a bit of his long black hair behind his ears and finding you in front of him.

“The cashier just called you my husband,” you declared.

He shrugged.

“Surprise.”

You blinked at him.

Patrons chatted and laughed as if this was a normal day. The music was horrendous covers of cheesy 2000’s pop. It was very strange, but the pho was good and well-priced, which was why Yoongi and you came here often after his meetings with music companies. Popular talent was in high demand.

He ticked his head to your outfit. “I know you like this dress I bought you, but you’ve left your coat at the table.”

“Oh, shit.”

“You’ve been scatterbrained ever since you started writing again.”

“Shut up.”

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #bts smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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notiddygothgf · 10 months ago

Text

prologue

★ pairings: choso x f!reader

★ synopsis: World famous rock star Choso Kamo’s new live-in assistant is convinced that she can fix him – substance abuse issues and all. Tensions ensue, and as new feelings rise to the surface, the two find it difficult to maintain an appropriate workplace relationship (or; the one where an unstable musician struggles to keep it friendly with his assistant).

★ c.w.: none (more content warnings and tags)

★ a/n: don't be a stranger! leave some comments for me to read teehee

★ w.c.; 2.8k

smoke and mirrors; chapter index

THE MUSIC INDUSTRY BLEEDS YOU DRY. That’s just the truth. It takes every ounce of your creative passion and tramples on it. It takes everything from you, and then it takes more. I find myself reconsidering my career path on a daily basis. There’s only one thing, in fact, that keeps me grounded.

“Choso! Choso! Choso! Choso!”

That. The chant of the crowd. The endless bodies waving their hands over the venue, reaching for me, singing for me.

I leaned my head back, feeling the cool breeze of the backstage air against my neck, against my trembling skin. Crewmembers swarmed around me like gnats, tweaking little details of my outfit – one had a black eyeshadow palette up to my eyelid and another was messing with my hair. She had said something about needing to look intentionally messy.

The low hum of their conversation was only background noise to me. I blew a bubble with the wad of gum in my mouth – a nervous tic that clearly betrayed the calm exterior I was trying so hard to maintain.

The girl who was touching my eyeliner up snapped the palette shut. My mind was elsewhere – it was out there.

“Choso! Choso! Choso!”

I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart. The chant of my name reverberated through the walls, a frightening reminder of what lay just beyond the curtain.

People. Thousands of them.

“Choso! Choso! Choso!” The chorus of voices seemed to grow louder. I shut my eyes, visualizing the sea of faces, the outstretched hands, the passion in their voices. The crowd– my fans; they were my lifeline.

Another crew member informed me, “You’re on.”

I nodded solemnly, feeling that strange pit in my stomach. It was terrifying, it was familiar, it was… exciting.

I took another breath, then I stepped forward. With each step towards the stage, the chanting intensified. The noise was like this strange, palpable force, urging me onward. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins the moment I reached the edge of the stage. The anticipation was almost… suffocating.

I stepped out. Then, for a blissful moment, it all seemed to go quiet.

I took a moment to look at them, really look at them. All of them. The mass of humanity blurred into one collective wave of joy. From here, I couldn’t even make out faces. Only smiles, flashing lights, and limbs flailing. Signs with my name on it. People with love in their hearts.

Nothing but them and me, hearts beating in tandem. I wondered how nervous they felt – if they knew how nervous I felt standing here before them. If they knew I had been nervously chewing on a piece of gum only moments prior.

Thousands of people who all came together for one purpose – to see me. A mosaic of adoration.

I glanced down at my trembling hands, fingers clutching the edge of my guitar. The weight of the crowd’s expectations pressed down on me. The realization hit me a second time – they were all here for me. That both terrified and humbled me.

I licked my lips, gave my old guitar a strum, feeling those familiar vibrations amplified a hundred fold. It was loud, so loud that I could still hear it reverberating throughout the venue when I reached for the microphone.

I stole another glance at the crowd as a smile broke across my face.

Deep breaths.

I shouted, “What the fuck is up, Paris?”

The response was deafening. The crowd erupted in cheers. I could feel their energy merging with mine – the lights, the love, the screams. In that moment, I remembered why I endured the trials of my industry. I remembered why I was still living – what I was fighting for. It was all for them, the countless faces who found solace and inspiration in my music.

And with that realization, I felt my heart begin to race.

“How y’all doin’ tonight?” I asked.

They screamed back at me in response. I grinned.

“God, I love you guys,” I laughed. Strummed my guitar a second time. Looked at them. “I got a special show for you tonight!”

It was all for them. I do it all for them.

Life on the road was pretty crazy. I wish I could say that I had family to miss back home, but that wasn’t the case. I had been in and out of foster care for most of my life; had to grow up pretty fast so my brothers and I could stay off the streets. Other than the three of them, I never really had a family.

I turned to music as a crutch. I bought my first guitar with the first paycheck I earned – I was 16. I bandhopped for a while, alternating between the roles of lead singer, bassist, and rhythm guitarist. I found a passion for writing lyrics somewhere along the way. It felt nice, being able to put pen to paper and make my fucked up life sound appealing.

It was great.

I did basement shows right up until I turned 21. I would have been more than happy to keep on doing them – hell, sometimes I found myself wishing I could still fit those small, shitty little venues – but some big, music industry talent hotshot came and found me at one of my shows. He handed me a card. Told me he liked my sound, that I could be famous.

Who could have refused?

I never anticipated hitting it this big. Not that I’m complaining. It keeps a roof over me and my brother’s head – to say the least. I have more than enough money to live lavishly for the rest of my days. I found my new family in my music team: my manager, my coordinators, my publicist. All of them.

The music industry is notoriously blood-sucking. It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. I realized that rather quickly, though by the time I was hot enough to hire a whole team, I was in too deep. It all seemed so… superficial.

I grew to hate it.

My hatred only grew when I lost two of my beloved brothers – Eso and Kechizu. There was a shootout at the mall. They found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time. I remember rushing to the hospital as soon as I heard the news.

It was too late by that point, though. They had bled out long before I was able to see them.

I didn’t sleep for a week after that – I developed insomnia that would last for years to come. I spent my evenings curled up on my shower floor, sobbing into my own arms. It was the same after that, and then the day after that. I found myself spending all of my time replaying the memories in my head, thinking about where I went wrong.

It didn’t take long for me to find comfort in the lifestyle of the rich and famous – the drinking, the partying, the drugs. I would go on week-long benders, drinking myself into a sickened stupor, rolling up two joints a day, popping pills I didn’t know how to pronounce. Doping myself up so I couldn’t think about it.

Ecstasy, Molly, Coke, LSD, Acid – I’ve taken them all. Shit, you could probably find trace amounts of them in my blood at any given point in time.

Or… however the hell that shit works.

I took Adderall every day to keep me grounded. That’s what I told myself, at least. No doctor in his right mind would ever prescribe someone like me 80 milligrams on a daily basis. Good thing I paid mine enough to forget his hippocratic oath.

I wasn’t completely lost, though. I didn’t feel good about it. Yuuji, my only living brother, told me multiple times that I needed to cut down on my consumption. He wanted me to go to rehab. Shit, over my dead body.

He stopped bringing it up, but I could see it in his eyes – I was breaking his heart. I had to remind myself that he had lost his brothers, too, that day. Probably felt like he was losing the only one he had left.

I try not to dwell too hard on it, though. Got better shit to do.

Fucking hate the music industry most days. Everyone expects you to be all put-together, even though you wake up feeling like you dragged your feet through a field of broken glass shards. Even though you wake up every goddamn morning feeling you’re reliving the same day over and over again.

It’s like a painful reminder that the only people I have in my life are paid employees. I have no one – other than Yuuji – who I could confidently say would be there for me if I no longer had the funds to compensate them.

It fucking blows. I drink to forget about it. Drink and… well, everything else I put in my body.

Never put a needle in there, though… at least not for drugs. I’ve got more tattoos and piercings than I can count.

Enough about my unhealthy coping mechanisms, though.

My “family” never let me put out music I like making. They stripped my creativity from me. I lost all enjoyment in songwriting along the way. They turned me into a husk – a shell of the man I used to be.

I couldn’t recall the last time I felt real happiness. You know, the kind you got from taking a walk in nature and not from snorting and ingesting copious amounts of illicit substances. You would think that someone would see me greened out on the couch and know I was crying for help.

Nah. No one ever listens.

They never noticed. The only reason they cared about whether I was dead or alive was because I kept them well-fed and their pockets full.

That’s the fuckin’ music industry, baby. Nothing but a bunch of soulless, drugged-up puppets pumping out music they hate making. Begging for help.

But no one ever listens.

My head hung low as I snorted a line of powder off the tray my housemaid – or some other woman I didn’t know – had brought me. As quickly as she had appeared, she vanished. In her absence, I relished in the rush that hit me all too fast.

I sniffed and coughed, shaking my head with remnants of the powder clinging to my nose. I blinked slowly, trying to make sense of my surroundings.

The studio’s walls were adorned with gold, platinum and silver records, a shark contrast to the disheveled state of the room. Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. The air hummed with companionable conversation and the distant echoes of a repetitive beat.

As I raised my head, the scene unfolded before me. Half-naked women, draped in a hazy glow from neon lights, raised their glasses in a toast. The shots went down smoothly, accompanied by the thumping bass of my latest creation, reverberating through the studio's speakers.

The instrumental was infectious, quick and catchy, resonating with a bass that seemed to throb in sync with the erratic pulse of the room. My eyes fell to the scattered papers on the coffee table in front of me – lyrics scribbled in messy script on lined paper that had been torn straight out of my composition notebook.

Cigarette smoke, a whiskey glass,

Fading memories, like shattered glass,

Every sunrise feels like the last,

Trapped in the echos of the past.

Stuck in the rhythm of a broken clock,

Every tick’s an echo, every tock’s a shock.

A carouse of monotony,

Lost in a loop, just try’na break free.

Guitar wails like a distant scream,

Reality blurs, just like a dream.

Drift through the hours, like a ghost,

In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.

Pouting, I wiped my nose, feeling the dull burn of the coke as it tingled in the back of my throat. I was congested as all hell. Still, I tried to sing the bridge beneath my breath.

“Drift through the hours, like a ghost. In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost…” I hummed, pouting again when I realized I still didn’t like it.

The women in the back of the room continued their celebration, completely oblivious to my internal struggle. They were too busy shooting the shit with my friends.

More glasses were poured, and one was handed over to me. I took a sip without looking – because it honestly didn’t matter what was in the cup, could’ve been piss for all I knew. The familiar burn of bourbon warmed me momentarily. Humming in recognition, I traced my finger over the rim of the glass, lost momentarily in the verbiage of my own creation.

Something felt off.

Furrowing my brows, I stared down at the words on the page. I sniffled again. Then I downed about half of my glass of bourbon, standing up on unsteady feet. The room swayed slightly, especially when I walked over to the corner where the producer was set up – a lone figure surrounded by the chaos.

I nodded at him, muttering, “Play it again from the chorus. I’m try’na see somethin’.”

The producer – Chris, or some shit like that – nodded back. He pressed a button, and the beat started over. The room’s ambiance, fueled by laughter and friendly chatter, didn’t quiet down.

I tried my best to immerse myself in the rhythm, but the distractions were just… it was just too much.

‘Guitar wails like a distant scream,

Reality blurs, just like a dream.

Drift through the hours, like a ghost,

In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.’

I hadn’t realized I had forgotten to actually sing the words until my producer looked over at me expectantly. I shook my head, huffing out an exasperated sigh.

“Shit, sorry, take it from… take it from the chorus again, please?” My voice cut through the noise – or tried to, at least.

The beat started over again, a few measures behind where I needed to be.

“Guitar wails like a distant scream…” I attempted once more. “Drift through the hours, like a lost– fuck, I fucked it up.”

The collective revelry around me was a wall – it fucked me up. I could feel a headache coming on.

“Can we pipe down a bit?” I groaned, massaging my temples. My ears began to ring a bit, growing louder with every passing second that the chatter continued. “Guys, shut the hell up.”

My pleas fell on deaf ears. The ringing persisted, drowning out everything else in the room.

“Yuki,” I directed at her, a little louder now. She seemed to have been leading the conversation. “Yuki, please.”

No one ever listens.

And they didn’t. They weren’t fucking listening. I tried to make eye contact with her, but I couldn’t seem to make out her face from the rest. The room was blurry, moving side to side, hazy around the edges. I held my forehead, groaning quietly.

They were so fucking loud.

No one ever listens.

Downing the rest of my bourbon in one go, I – in a fit of frustration – hurled the glass against the wall above the couch where my friends were comfortably seated. It shattered, sending shockwaves through the room as stunned silence replaced the previous chaos.

“Yuki,” I mumbled, swaying slightly on my feet. “Shut the fuck up. I’m trying to.. Try’na fuckin’...”

“Choso,” She began quietly, her mouth slightly agape. Had she always had a twin sister, or was I dreaming? “Your… your nose– are you okay?”

I put a hand up to my nose, feeling around for anything out of the ordinary. My fingers were red when I brought them back, painted with a viscous crimson fluid. Another fell from my nostril onto the pale skin of my wrist.

My nose is bleeding.

I wiped my nose, waving them off. “I’m fine,” I slurred – I wasn’t, least I don’t think I was, but the show must go on, or some shit like that. “Can we just… keep going, please?”

A thick, heavy silence enveloped the studio. With all of them finally keeping their mouths shut, I could hear myself think again. The ringing in my ears began to subside, and I, looking over my shoulder at Chuck– Chris, whatever the fuck– demanded, “Play that shit again.”

He swallowed nervously, clearly caught off guard by my outburst. Still, he pressed a button or two, and the song started all over again.

Drift through the hours like a ghost,

In this eternal purgatory, I’m lost.

a/n: hiiii! I hate the way this was written, but I always hate my first chaps hehe. NEXT ONE WILL BE SM BETTER I SWEAR!! this is gonna be a long, slow burn, smutty ass fanfic (loosely [very loosely] based on the show 'the idol'). and by based on ofc I mean I watched an ep and I was like damn I could make this better. Enter our beloved emo boy choso kamo. anyway!! comment your thoughts/wishes/etc!! I love an interactive community of loyal commenters and I loveee reading all of ur thoughts and lovely remarks!! keep them coming, and ill keep the chapters coming in retribution! love you bunches!

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

credits: @/2OARIN on twitter (cover art). If you know the other artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work! I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

taglist: @missphanosaur18 , @bontensbabygirl, @megumissunshine, @chocoyanchan, @littlelovebug98, @lucisimpongod, @xochyw, @jaegerstan222 , @electro-supremacy, @mellytheteddy, @clover0310 , @soraya-daydreams, @priussy, @insanehumantinker, @staygoldsquatchling02, @nonksity, @hinata7346, @chososwhoresblog, @ynjimenez , @soraya-daydreams , @nonksity , @hinata7346 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @sad-darksoul , @sasuke-slut , @yuunie135 , @bratkuna , @aydene , @mshope16 , @pretentiousteentrash , @galactict3a , @kokos-property , @moonriseoverkyoto , @lyn-soso , @arilostie , @violetmatcha , @markleeisdabestdrug , @erensdior , @hp-simp505 , @fushiguro-kyuuuuuu , @bontensbabygirl , @switch-godess , @honey-yuh , @ddotsie

wanna join the taglist? | smoke and mirrors; chapter index

#smoke and mirrors ☄. *. ⋆#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#choso kamo #choso #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x jjk #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #choso fluff #choso angst #choso smut #choso kamo fluff #choso kamo smut

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nausicaamusiclover20 · 26 days ago

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Hi Nausicaa 👋👋👋 I’ve requested a work from you before (the AU where James is in biker gang) and it was so good, I couldn’t resist to put another request, I hope it’s ok…

This was particularly inspired by Lana Del Rey (I love her) and beautiful dangerous music video - the one where Fergie is an obsessed fan of Slash (I mean he’s damn fine, but she took it a notch too far…)

It’s gonna be current James x younger reader, so maybe she’s a singer like Lana type (nostalgic, very Americana and most importantly is into older man); and she’s been kinda obsessed with James since she first saw Metallica on MTV- like kissed his poster before going to bed when she was younger obsessed (deffo not like Fergie in the video) and then she got fame and money, she started to collect his guitars, vintage magazines with his interviews, etc. She finally gets to meet him at some awards ceremony and that’s kinda her chance, so she uses her charm like in full force and although James feels guilty for liking her (the damned age gap) he can’t resist? And at some point he confesses to her that he feels to old and he thinks she’s wasting her youth on him, but she consoles him that she never wanted any other man and it leads to sex, and she’s on top and she’s telling him how am he is (can we get daddy kink pretty please🙏)?

I hope you’ll find it interesting and will consider writing it. There are a lot of stories with current James/younger reader, but pretty much all the time, he’s the one initiating the relationship, sex, etc. So I thought it’d be cool to look at it from the other side and have a younger woman seduce him and him trying to resist?

Did you say lana del rey? Well how could I not write something based on my queen, woman, goddess (I had written a one shot based on a song of her that maybe I will publish) Having said this, I hope you like it💕

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Warnings: use of the word daddy, fem dom, a bit of smut, age gap

Burning desire

The glimmer of Hollywood lights felt both familiar and surreal as I stepped into the awards ceremony, my heart racing with excitement. It was the kind of night I had dreamed about since I first discovered Metallica on MTV. As a teenager, I was a devoted fan, plastering my walls with posters of James Hetfield—his fierce gaze, tousled hair, and leather-clad figure captivating my imagination. I had spent countless nights lost in the world of rock and roll, dreaming of meeting him one day.

When I finally got my break in the music industry, I poured my soul into collecting everything related to him. Vintage magazines filled with his interviews adorned my shelves, each page a time capsule of my admiration. I had even acquired a few of his iconic guitars, their strings echoing the sound of my youthful fantasies. Now, standing here in a red dress that hugged my curves—a nod to the Americana style I cherished—I felt like a star ready to shine. But my heart raced not for the accolades I might receive that night but for the man I had idolized since childhood.

James walked in with an air of effortless cool, surrounded by a small entourage, and I felt my breath hitch. The aura he carried was magnetic, even at a distance. He looked timeless, a rock god who hasn't aged a day in my heart. I took a moment to admire the way his leather jacket hugged his shoulders and how his jeans clung just right, accentuating his strong build.

Finally, I spotted him at the bar, a glass of amber liquid in hand, surrounded by admirers. I took a deep breath, channeling all the confidence I could muster, and approached him, the sound of my heels echoing against the polished floor. Each step felt like a leap toward destiny.

“James?” My voice was steady despite the butterflies dancing in my stomach. He turned, his deep blue eyes locking onto mine, and for a moment, everything else faded away, leaving just the two of us.

“Hey there,” he replied, a charming smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. “What brings you to this event?”

“I’m a singer,” I said, fighting the urge to fan-girl. “Your music was the soundtrack to my youth. I mean, I was obsessed.” I leaned against the bar, feeling the cool surface beneath me as I looked into his eyes.

“Yeah? What did you like most about it?” he asked, genuinely curious.

I leaned closer, emboldened by the moment. “Honestly? Your voice. The way you command a stage. You’ve always had this raw energy that draws people in.”

He chuckled softly, the warmth in his eyes revealing how much he appreciated my honesty. “You don’t meet many fans who end up in the same industry. It’s pretty cool.”

“It’s wild, right? I had to chase my dreams, and now I’m here. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t dream of this moment,” I replied, letting the excitement of it all wash over me.

His gaze deepened, a flicker of something more than just admiration in his eyes. “What’s it like being up there, knowing people are watching?”

I shrugged, feeling bold. “It’s exhilarating. But honestly, standing here with you? Way more nerve-wracking. I think you might be the one person I’d be starstruck over.” I bit my lip, feeling the tension simmer between us.

James looked at me, a mix of amusement and genuine interest. “You’re not afraid to flirt, are you?”

“Why should I be?” I replied playfully, leaning in closer, my breath mingling with his. “Life’s too short to hold back, right?”

As the night wore on, we shared stories, laughter, and glances that ignited a fire between us. The chemistry crackled in the air, palpable and intoxicating, but I also sensed a hesitation from him, a protective wall he was trying to maintain. He seemed torn between desire and duty, and I was determined to break through.

Later, as the evening wound down and the crowd began to disperse, he pulled me aside into a quieter corner. The music faded into the background, leaving a serene silence enveloping us, and it was just the two of us, the air thick with unspoken words.

“I feel like I’m too old for you,” he confessed, his brow furrowing with worry. “You’re still young, and you have your whole life ahead of you.”

My heart raced at his admission, but I stepped closer, looking directly into his eyes, determined to convey my feelings. “You have no idea what I want, James. I’ve never wanted anyone but you. I’ve spent my childhood dreaming of this moment.” I reached up, brushing my fingers against his jawline, feeling the stubble beneath my fingertips. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted.”

His hesitation melted away as he leaned closer, his breath mingling with mine, warm and inviting. “You really mean that?” he asked, his voice low and filled with disbelief.

“Absolutely,” I whispered, feeling the gravity of my words. “You’ve been my fantasy for so long, and now I have you right here.”

Without another word, his lips crashed against mine, igniting a fire that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. I melted into him, my body pressing against his as he deepened the kiss, his hands gripping my waist tightly. The world outside faded away, and all that mattered was this moment, this connection.

As the kiss grew more passionate, I felt alive, the heat radiating off him mixing with my own. He pulled back slightly, breathless, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low rumble filled with concern and desire.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I declared, my heart pounding with anticipation.

With a smirk that hinted at the mischief lurking beneath his surface, he took my hand, leading me to a private lounge, away from prying eyes. The moment we stepped inside, the door closed behind us, and he pinned me against the wall, his lips crashing into mine again with a fierce urgency.

As our bodies entwined, I could feel the heat radiating off him, and I wanted more. I pushed him back against the couch, climbing atop him, my heart pounding with exhilaration and anticipation.

“You’re so damn hot,” I whispered, feeling the thrill of power wash over me. “Tell me how good I feel.”

His eyes darkened with desire, and he groaned, his hands gripping my hips tightly as he watched me with an intensity that made me ache for him. “God, you’re going to be the death of me.”

“Then let’s make it worth it,” I teased, rolling my hips against him, feeling the heat building between us. “I need you to remind me just how good it can be. Show me how much you want me.”

His hands slid up my sides, fingers tracing the curves of my body as he drew me closer. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. You’re so young, and I don’t want to ruin you.”

“Maybe I want to be ruined by you,” I purred, leaning down to whisper in his ear, my lips grazing his skin. “Show me how it feels to be yours. I want to feel you, James.”

“Just remember, you asked for this,” he warned, his voice deep and commanding, sending shivers down my spine. “I won’t hold back.”

I grinned, exhilarated by his words. “I don’t want you to hold back. I want to take control tonight.”

With that, I shifted my position, straddling him with a newfound confidence, my hands finding his shoulders as I leaned in closer. “You’re going to let me take care of you,” I said, my voice low and sultry.

“Is that right?” he replied, a mix of surprise and admiration in his gaze.

“Absolutely,” I declared, grinding against him, feeling him respond beneath me. “I want to feel you lose control as I show you exactly what I want. Just sit back and enjoy it.”

His breath hitched, and I reveled in the way I had him at my mercy. “You’re mine tonight, Daddy,” I teased, the words spilling from my lips as I embraced the thrill of our dynamic. “I want to feel you lose yourself in me.”

His expression shifted, a mixture of surprise and desire crossing his face. “You’re incredible, princess” he murmured, surrendering to the moment as I took the lead.

“Let me remind you just how good it can be,” I whispered, leaning closer, my breath hot against his ear. “You’re going to show me just how much you want me, right?”

With a deep growl, he nodded, his hands gripping my waist as I began to move against him. “Just don’t forget who’s in charge, sweetheart,” he warned, his voice rough with lust.

“Trust me, Daddy. I won’t forget,” I said, my confidence soaring as I took control, guiding our movements with a fierce intensity that ignited the night.

As I brought us both to the edge of ecstasy, I could feel the connection between us deepening, a bond that transcended the physical. With each thrust, I lost myself in him, surrendering to the moment and the man who had been my lifelong obsession.

Finally, as we reached our peak together, I collapsed against him, breathless and glowing. I looked into his eyes, filled with warmth and desire, and I knew what I had to say.

“I love you, James,” I breathed, feeling the weight of the words settle between us. It was a promise, a declaration of everything I felt.

He smiled softly, his hands cradling my face as he whispered back, “I love you too, princess.”

In that dimly lit room, wrapped in each other’s arms, I realized this was just the beginning of our story—a love that would defy the odds and thrive in the spaces between dreams and reality.

#metallica #metallica oneshot #metallica fanfiction #jameshetfield #jameshetfieldxreader #papa het #metallica smut #metallica one shot #james hetfield smut #nausicaamusiclover20

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the-swift-escape · 1 year ago

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A Fine Team

Part 1 of (N/A)

Summary: The reader and Loki are sent on a mission at an art gallery, their objective is to pose as husband and wife to gain entry into a hydra auction. The reader has been falling for their friend for some time now and doesn’t think that he could ever feel the same.

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Author’s Note: I’m thinking of making this a multi-part fanfic, not sure how long but I have a few ideas for the plot. I’ve never written any fan fictions like this before and I’m mostly trying to get back into the groove of writing again.

Word Count: 3,422

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The art gallery is filled with a warm glow of light. The walls are paneled with a dark wood and the floor is a shining marble that echoes with each step of heeled feet. There’s low classical music playing but no one is dancing. The guests are either too occupied by the exhibition or conversation with their peers. If you didn’t know better you wouldn’t even suspect anything abnormal about this event. Just a bunch of old money socialites viewing art they’re hoping to bid for in the auction later tonight.

Unfortunately for you, this is a mission, not a social event. Loki is not your date, holding you close against him as you view a landscape piece. He’s not whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He’s observing the people around you, and he’s playing a part. He is your mission partner, not a lovesick newlywed. He is your friend, nothing more. When you think about the press of his hand against your lower back and his lips close to your ear, your heart clenches. It feels like the most exhilarating torture for him to be so close yet so far. He has no idea how hard it is to suppress the blush rising to your cheeks and you want to keep it that way so instead you watch an older man in a dark red suit jacket look at his watch.

“There he is, it’s almost time for the auction. Don’t lose sights,” you whisper, pulling your lips into a smile as you turn toward Loki.

“He couldn’t be more obvious if he tried,” Loki says while pushing a strand of hair behind your ear and your breath hitches and you pray he doesn’t notice.

“You guys are disgusting, I can’t believe I have to watch this,” Tony’s voice comes through your ear pieces.

Loki rolls his eyes, scoffing, “Would you rather me hold a knife to her throat, Stark? Would that be more in character?”

“For you? Absolutely,” Tony says pointedly.

You clear your throat.

“If you two are done having your dick measuring contest, the target’s moving,” You whisper harshly.

The man in the red suit goes to the back of the gallery and flashes his watch to a young bouncer. He looks at him with an over polite smile. He’s nervous, this must be the new kid that Hydra set to work this event. Fury was right, they didn’t see the avengers as a threat. To be fair, the intel was fresh and the event was just arranged a few days ago. They just hadn’t checked the museum staff for any spies yet.

Nat looks at you subtly from the bar as she abandons her spot behind the counter and heads toward the back room. Her hair is dyed a dark black and is swept into a braid. She has a completely different face, courtesy of stark industries, but she moves with the same practiced ease of Natasha. She touches the bouncer’s arm and lean towards him. His eyes go wide and he hastily steps aside and follows her past the velvet rope. When they turn the corner you hear a door close through her mic and then you hear a few grunts and you swear you hear a sharp cracking sound.

“You’re all good, auction is about to start,” Nat says her tone calm.

“You’re brillant, Nat,” You shake your head in awe and hold onto Loki’s arm.

His suit is a dark green. The material cool to touch and fitting across his arms. His dark hair is swept back into an elegant loose bun. His face is at ease and you feel your heart stutter as his green eyes sparkle with the chandelier light overhead. You’re wearing a long gown the same color as his suit, the neckline is revealing but not too revealing to warrant any unnecessary glances. The thin straps on your shoulders are beaded with gold and the details on your bodice are dripped in gold, to match his cufflinks. He insisted on your outfits matching perfectly. ‘To sell the illusion’, he said.

“You look lovely, my dear wife,” He says as you pass a small group of lower hydra operatives.

“I’d hope so, I picked it out just for you. Now that we’re married it doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to impress you,” You laugh airily as the two of you approach the now clear hallway.

You make a show of batting your eyes at the man beside you as a few of the operatives turn to look at the two of you. Loki wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you close, giving you a featherlight kiss on your forehead. When you turn the corner down a darker hall you both stop and press your backs against the wall, waiting to hear footsteps. None follow and you relax against the wall and look over to see Loki looking at you with a wolfish grin.

“You play this part beautifully, darling.”

You roll your eyes at him, trying to hide the start of a smile on your lips.

“You can turn it down a notch, Loki, all these rooms are sound proof according to the blueprints we got from Fury. No one is here to hear your flirting-“

“Except for us, Reindeer Games, you’re making me sick over here,” Tony complains and you can’t help but laugh.

“Careful, Loki, y/n may have to kick your ass if you get too frisky. This is a mission after all, what would Fury say?”

Nat’s smirk is evident in her words. You wish you could stop the hope from rising in your chest when Loki doesn’t seem too interested in defending himself. But then it’s crushed just as fast and you see his smile drop and he raises one eyebrow.

“I’m not flirting, I’m staying in character. There’s a difference. I suppose that’s why I was chosen for this mission over you, Stark. I’m simply more professional.”

“Yeah that’s the reason, definitely not the fact that I’m an extremely famous billionaire, philanthropist and the owner of one of the tallest buildings in New York. Which just so happens to have my name on it. But you’re right, Rock of Ages-“

You hear a door open down the hall.

“Will you two shut up,” you hiss.

You look at your diamond encrusted watch. They must have just got done appraising the piece you’re here for. You see a supply closet out of the corner of your eye and grab Loki’s wrist and pull him silently into it, turning your ear piece on mute. The room is cramped, the space taken up by cleaning products and a rack of boxes and towels. You can’t help but press Loki against the door as you hold your hand over his mouth. Your heart is racing. It sounds like there’s about five men in the hall. Stopped right in front of the closet door. In the small glimpse of light peaking through the door from the hallway you see Loki’s eyes shut tightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

You listen in on their conversation but it’s mostly small talk. All they say that rouses any suspicion is that they’re meeting at a hotel a few months from now. As their steps echo down the hall they say their goodbyes. Hail Hydra.

You let your head fall against Loki’s chest and take your hand from his mouth. He reaches up to his ear as he breathes heavily.

“Darling, if you wanted to get me alone, I could’ve arranged that much earlier.”

His voice is as smooth as silk, if a little breathless. You try to chuckle but you feel like floating. Your skin pricks as you look up and realize how close the two of you are.

“If I wanted you alone, Laufeyson, it would have already happened,” You counter, trying to slip into your usual banter.

It’s harder when it’s like this. When it’s so close to the truth but it just isn’t. You want him, but you know there’s no way he’d have you.

Loki opens his mouth to reply, smirking, but he stops short. You’re close enough to hear the muffled noise from his ear piece and Loki clears his throat when you pull away to turn the volume up. You nod at him and he opens the door to the closet.

“Hello? Am I just talking to myself here?”

“No, Tony, sorry. Had to focus, heading to the auction room now,” You respond.

Loki offers his arm and you take it, avoiding his eyes in hopes of just appearing focused. The two of you reach the auction room and slip in unnoticed. You find the place marker with your aliases and your paddle number and take your seat in the back.

The auctioneer hasn’t gotten to your item yet but you pretend to be interested and whisper to each other when it’s time for Loki to put his paddle up. You bid low enough to lose but high enough to where you drive the price up on some of the smaller items. An hour or so passes with you and Loki waiting to see the painting you came here for. Every time he raised the paddle he’d steal a glance at you, pleased with how frustrated some of the older attendees sounded when they had to place a higher bid.

You couldn’t help but marvel at how far he’s come since the battle of New York. You were one of the only people that was able to connect the fact that Loki’s eyes were the same color as Clint’s when he was being mind controlled. Before Loki ever joined you’d brought it up multiple times but no one ever really took it seriously. After he arrived at the tower, and he opened up more, in his own ways he confirmed that your theory was correct. He hasn’t told anyone what happened that lead him to that point, though. Luckily, he’s adjusted pretty well and if some of the avengers still don’t like them- they have a begrudging respect for him. Loki and Bucky bonded and formed an interesting friendship, with what Loki has told you it seems that they’ve helped each other readjust to freedom in a way. Wanda has also helped Loki open up more, they tend to spend some time every few weeks training with their magic. Clint still keeps his distance but that’s not a scar that’s going to heal quickly, you don’t think.

Loki tears you from your thoughts, tapping the inside of your right wrist. He’s staring straight at the painting you’re here for. It’s a 1940s battlefield landscape. But you’re not here because of the art itself, you’re here for what’s sewn into the canvas. You know that Tony is listening in as the auctioneer announces the piece.

“Showtime, newly weds,” Tony comments.

According to Fury’s intel there’s a note with coordinates to a hidden hydra base that has been thought to be inactive since just after the war. There’s been whispers of a resurgence of the winter soldier program in a top secret location. This might be the key to finding the headquarters.

Loki waits for a few people to bid before placing his first one in. If you can get your hands on this painting it could completely destroy the last of the winter soldier program, if you don’t win then this mission will be a hell of a lot more difficult. He puts his paddle up again and rests his hand on your thigh, his fingers dipping just inside of the dress’ side slit. He keeps his face straight and you assume someone’s looking but you can’t take your eyes off his hand. Your breath is shallow but you try to focus, giving his hand a pat when you think he should bid.

The general protocol is that the highest bidders are given directions to a safe house where they can make the exchange. Hydra transports the item there in heavily guarded vehicles. Which the team will be tracking via the Quinjet. You feel your knives strapped to your thigh, all night you’ve been itching for a fight. Maybe it’s the pent up frustration from your ruse or just the fact that you’ve been surrounded by hydra agents all night. It feels like torture to blend in with them but it’s honestly not even close to being one of the most difficult missions you’ve gone on. It’s tame in comparison to most, little combat and little interaction with the enemy. The hardest part is keeping your heart in check when Loki’s touching you like that. You’re starting to realize how incredibly distracting it can be.

“Sold to number twenty-five!”

The auctioneer announces the winner and you realize it’s not you.

“Shit.”

“What’s up, (y/n)? Did you get it or not?” Tony pries.

“They cut the bidding short. Two men came in and delivered a note to the auctioneer,” Loki explains.

You didn’t even notice. How did that happen?

“It must’ve been rigged, get out of there, we’ll see you at the jet.”

You slip your hand into Loki’s, the cold of his fake wedding band nipping at your skin.

“Let’s go, honey. I have a little surprise for you back at home,” You tease seductively.

His green eyes cut to yours, you swear that for a moment there’s a flash of something there. You just can’t quite put a name to it. Loki’s tongue brushes over his lower lip, bringing your hand up. He leaves a lingering kiss on your matching ring. The look in his eye paired with the graze of his mouth on your skin sends a strike of electricity through your veins. He gets up, leading you to the door.

“Shall we?” He makes a show of letting you exit first after you exchange the customary hail hydras with the organizer and his bodyguards.

When you get into the hall the two of you pick up your pace.

“Now, what?” You hiss at Loki.

He grins mischievously.

“Now, darling, we have some fun.”

You can tell he’s thinking what you’ve been feeling, this has been too easy. Now, at least, it’s getting interesting. You really wish you had a body suit under this dress but maybe if you’re lucky you’ll be able to make it to the jet before you have to do any real damage. You get instruction from Tony to take a few turns down the hall to a back exit that leads to an alley closer to the meeting point.

The night air is breezy and goosebumps form on your arms. The stars are bright and the moon is little more than a sliver. Your heels echo softly on the pavement as you walk. Loki is close enough to where your hands brush once in a while as you walk. Each time it happens you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit. There’s something magnetic about Loki, and most might say it’s because he’s a god or because he’s like a predator. Coaxing his prey into a false security, but you don’t see him that way. You see a man, a god, that has been through awful things. Like anyone else, he has struggled. He is hard to crack but when you’re able to see what’s underneath the calculating front he puts up, he’s not that different from the rest of the team.

“You did good in there, Laufeyson, I think you’re getting the hang of this whole avenger thing,” you bump his shoulder with yours, “who knows, maybe you’ve found your glorious purpose.”

He chuckles and rubs the back of his neck.

“I don’t think that the other avengers share that sentiment.”

Your chest pangs, because it’s true.

Then his face hardens, glancing back the way you came. You hear some low voices cutting through the night and before you can react, Loki is grabbing you by the waist. He’s spinning you around and the world is tilting on its axis. You close your eyes thinking something bad is about to happen.

Your back hits the wall and one of his hands is on your waist, the other supporting your head, guiding it to back gently. When you open your eyes he’s looking at you and he silently shushes you. Loki leans in close to you and his nose is brushing yours and his gaze drops to your lips. Your heart is pounding in your chest and your skin is tingling. He’s so close and his breath smells like whiskey. His cologne is coating the air between you and it smells like the forest and it’s warm and welcoming and it’s so hard to pretend like you’re not in love with him when he’s so close.

“You look truly divine,” He breathes.

“You don’t mean that,” You whisper back, shaking your head.

The footsteps are getting closer and closer and you screw your eyes shut. You have no idea what to do now that you’ve lost contact with the others and you can’t think straight. Loki always leaves your mind cloudy and usually it doesn’t effect your mission but you’ve never been in such a compromising position. He’s intoxicating and it takes all your willpower not to lean into him further. Not to press your lips to his or wrap your arms around his neck.

“Yes,” he leans a fraction closer, “I do.”

Then he’s pressing you further into the bricks and his fingers are brushing against your cheekbone. You open your eyes and he looks at you and his pupils are blown wide. Then he kisses you and it’s so soft. He’s kissing you like you’re going to disappear, like you’re made of glass. It’s fragile and you can tell he’s braced for rejection and even though you’re terrified that this is all for the mission somehow you melt into the kiss. A low noise is pulled from him as you slide your hands through his hair, it falls from its slicked back bun and the strands are falling against your cheek. The moment is everything you’ve ever dreamed it would be and still it’s so much better.

The whole world is slipping away and you ears are buzzing and you realize you need to breathe. You pull back, leaning your head back toward the cool night air and then his lips are on your neck and you feel weightless.

“Believe me, (y/n),” he whispers against your skin, his breath cool, “I could never lie to you.”

The sound of your name makes you whimper as his lips move further and further down. The footsteps are long gone, you realize. You should go, both of you should go meet the others at the rendezvous point. But you can’t move, it’s like you’re stuck to the spot and all you can focus on is this, this mischievous god against you and how his hands are chilling your skin and setting it on fire all at once. The way his tie has come slightly loose and how his cheeks are reddened. He’s disheveled and you never thought it would be for you, because of you.

“Loki-“ You choke out.

“(Y/n), come in. Can you hear us? Where are you, agent?” Steve’s voice breaks through the static in your ear piece.

Loki pulls back abruptly, the voice of your captain breaking through the moment. His eyes are wide as he looks at you and your heart sinks. He regrets it. You just lost your best friend. You sober up quickly and slip from Loki’s grasp and maneuver around him, looking down the alleyway.

“I hear you, Cap. We’re not too far from the museum, had to take a detour. On our way now.”

“We got eyes on the truck, good work you two, you make a fine team.”

You look at Loki for a second. You can’t read his expression as he straightens his tie and fixes his hair. He wipes his lips, erasing all the evidence of what happened just like that. As if it never happened, couldn’t happen. Not with you, at least. You sigh.

“Yeah, I guess we do.”

In silence you head to the rendezvous point. The tension thick between you. Maybe all he’ll ever be is your partner. Maybe you were naive to think that it could seriously be more. It was just the heat of the moment and it should have never gotten that far. Maybe you could learn to live with that.

#Loki #loki x reader #loki reader insert #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader #the avengers #fake dating #friends to lovers #fluff #pining #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #avenger loki #loki fanfic #light angst #insecurity #multi part fic

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minniesmutt · 5 months ago

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☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐲

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: I.N X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: IDOL!READER, FEM!READER, EXHIBITONISM, QUICKIE, UNPROTECTED SEX, CREAMPIE, CLOTHED SEX, DIRTY TALK, PET NAMES ☾ ━━━ WC: 1K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

Publicly dating as an idol wasn’t safe. Companies didn’t like endorsing their idols dating or even if they could, they worried about what their fan base would say. So everything was hidden.

Rarely get to see your partner with busy schedules and maybe get an hour or so to talk to them. Bless award shows though. Getting the whole industry together in one place, watching all their performances, and supporting them when they won their awards.

The fun part was trying to sneak glances at your partner. And sneaking away from the eyes of fans.

Y/n and Jeongin sat at their separate tables with their groups. Chatting away with their groups but Y/n could feel the occasional glare of his eyes on her. Eventually, she had to go back with her group to change to performance clothes. Jeongin's group followed not long after, just before hers went on to get ready for their performance. Just passing by them to the dressing rooms as they were going to wait for cue. The groups greeted each other as they passed by, Jeongin and Y/n’s eyes lingering on each other a bit longer than the others.

Jeongin managed to find a piece of paper after the makeup artist finished fixing his makeup and he got changed. He wrote a little note for his girlfriend to meet him at a closed area he had found while wondering while waiting to get ready. Hiding it and watching the last bit of their performance and congratulating them on a good job. Listening to the host as they caught their breaths. Jeongin slipped Y/n the little piece of paper right before they left the side stage and they got ready to go on.

Y/n went with her group and grabbed a snack and water. She peaked at the note and let her members know she was going to go to the bathroom and take a walk around to cool off before the awards. Promising to be back in time. Y/n followed the instructions her boyfriend had written down to the little spot and waited around. Listening to the distant sounds of the beat then the fans clapping.

A few minutes later she heard footsteps. Y/n peaked around the corner to see her boyfriend, sweaty from his performance.

“Innie!” Y/n whisper-yelled at him

Jeongin made it around the corner and pinned her back against the wall with a smile.

“Hi bun,” Jeongin said

“Hi, bub.”

Y/n pulled him in for a kiss, his hands auto-moving to hold her hips as he pressed her against the wall.

“Looked so good on your stage,” he mumbled against her lips

“We have to go back soon, In.”

“Quickie?” He asked

“Please, need you.”

Y/n grabbed the hair at the nape of his neck as his hands pushed up her skirt. Grabbing the top hem of her safety shorts while she moved to unbutton his pants, both finding some difficulty with the complexity of their stage outfits but managing to work around it and get to where they wanted to be.

Jeongin had pushed her safety shorts down and ran two fingers between her folds. “This wet just from kissing?” he teased

“Tease me later,” She wrapped her hand around his cock and pumped him before he turned her around and kissed the side of her neck.

“You sure you don’t want prep?” he asked, pressing his hips into her ass

“We’ve gone without prep before In, I’ll be fine,” Y/n assured him

“Alright bun.”

Y/n braced herself against the wall and her boyfriend lined up at her entrance, gently pushing in the tip before he grabbed her hands that were braced against the wall and laced their fingers together.

Y/n gripped his fingers as he stretched her open. Jeongin took to whispering soft phrases into her ear like he always did when they had their little rendezvous at shows. Slowly pushing till he was balls deep. One hand left hers and went between her legs. Nimble fingers finding her clit and rubbing it slowly to help her.

“Innie, move,” Y/n whined after just sitting inside wasn’t enough.

Jeongin pulled out and slowly pushed back in. Well aware of where they were, they had an echo. Keeping his pressure on her clit as he rocked into her.

Both doing their best to keep their voice down in case anyone was walking by. Gradually all sense of dignity disappeared and the thought of getting caught seemed to spur the male on. Hips and fingers started to move at a rapid speed that caught his girlfriend off guard.

Y/n had to slap her free hand over her mouth to stop any noise from coming out as Jeongin groaned in her ear, turning her on more.

Her walls contracted around him as he kept stimulating her. He had a great habit of if he couldn’t prep her then be made damn sure he came— even with prep he made sure she came when he was inside her too.

“‘M close Innie,” Y/n whimpered

“Me too bun. Gonna let Innie fill you up before we go back on stage?”

“Yes, please, In. Fill up your bunny.”

“Stuff you full so it’s leaking out of you. Let everyone know you're my bunny.”

Hearing his voice so low and what he was saying triggered her orgasm. The knot inside her snapped and her release coated his cock. Jeongin pulled back from her clit and continued fucking her through her orgasm. Only stopping when he finally came and covered her walls in white. Both relaxed into each other and the wall for a few moments before fixing themselves. Trying to make it look like they didn’t just get fucked.

“Come over later?” Y/n asked as she wrapped her arms around him

“Already miss me?” he teased

“Always miss you.” Y/n smiled before pecking his lips, “Awards are soon.”

“Come on. I’ll come over to your dorm later.” Jeongin said as he peeled her off the wall and walked with her back to their groups.

☾ ━━━━━━ M.LIST TIP JAR

☾ ━━━ please support writers by reblogging and/or leaving feedback

#☾━━━━ [𝐊𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒]#stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids smut #skz #skz x reader #skz x reader smut #skz smut #yang jeongin x reader #yang jeongin x reader smut #yang jeongin smut #i.n x reader #i.n x reader smut #i.n smut

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shefightslikeagirl · 7 months ago

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Hobby Drama: Emilie Autumn's Asylum [Part 1]

u/pillowcase-of-eels posted a link to their fandom-and-EA-history write up to the r/EmilieAutumn Reddit, and I thought it would be a fun project to share! 2 out of 7 parts have been posted to r/HobbyDrama so far.

Picture this: it's the early 2010s, somewhere in the western world. Instagram is a novelty, Harvey Weinstein runs Hollywood, almost no one on Earth leans one way or the other about RNA vaccines, and Donald Trump is that one real estate guy you vaguely remember from Home Alone 2. New player Lady Gaga is the most interesting thing to have happened to pop since Madonna, and the whole industry is attempting to catch up; Miley Cyrus is the chick who used to be on Hannah Montana; Melanie Martinez hasn't hatched yet. The time of Oddball Concept Divas is dawning just below the horizon.

You're a Bowie-loving student who skipped goth night at the club to tag along with your art school friends for a very special evening. You're a giddy sixteen-year old rocking cat ears, purple Wet 'n Wild eyeliner, a polyester petticoat, and a coffin-shaped backpack. You're an effete theater kid who sewed his own waistcoat for the occasion, but won't dare wear it to school the next day. You're a buff, bearded dude in a Venom shirt who's trying not to look too excited, since your girlfriend supposedly had to drag you here. You're a slightly bemused parent leaning against the back wall of the venue, sipping a warm half-pint, wondering if this isn't all a bit dark for a tween. ("It's called 'Victoriandustrial', mom," you've been told in the car, "and it's not dark, it's art.")

On stage is a pink-haired woman, with red porcelain-doll lips and a heart painted on her cheek. Among a set of antique consoles, twee tchotchkes, teacups and plastic rats, she pounces and twirls in glittery platform boots, tattered striped stockings, and a tightly laced crystal-studded corset that looks like it's splattered in blood. This is ostensibly a concert, but there is no live band. Where one would expect a drum kit or a bass, three bedazzled burlesque vixens act as back-up singers and dancers, with the occasional vaudeville act a fire-twirling number, a fan dance, throwing pastries and spitting tea into the audience. Lots of wholesome girl-on-girl kissing, too. The music on the backing track is a genre-bender of clanging beats and beeps, lofty orchestral strings, and the frantic hammering of a MIDI harpsichord, as the pink-haired frontlady sings of heartache and betrayal and drowning. Think if the Brontë sisters had invented industrial rock.

The audience gasps in excitement when the lady whips out a vamped-out wireless electric violin. With rockstar cool and virtuoso poise, she leans into the instrument, touches the bow to the strings, and tears out a single plaintive, impeccably distorted high note. Then her fingers go wild, and for a few seconds, everything is perfect suspended animation. Uncannily perfect, almost. Just behind you, you hear someone whisper: "Wait, is she miming it?"

#emilie autumn #fandom #hobbydrama #plague rats #i spy some of sflag's content used as citation lol #we're so dead retrospectives are the most interesting thing that come out of the fandom now

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mclmora · 6 months ago

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✧ 5 dl boys - headcanons ✧

~NOTE: pictures used aren’t mine. credit to the respective owners on pinterest! all the headcanons are SFW & written just for fun. that being said, enjoy! xoxo, Mora

ꞝ Yuma M.

he has dyslexia & dyscalculia. he always had troubles with school for that, however ruki has helped him out since the moment he discovered his problem (indeed it was ruki who found out).

he loves his own hair to be long, for the looks of it ofc, but mainly because he is super sensitive on his neck and can’t stand the feeling of cold breeze touching his nape.

his favorite fruit is pomegranate, he’s obsessed with the taste of it and the texture of the little seeds.

ꞝ Azusa M.

loves pastel colors. especially on clothes! he has these huge cardigans & sweaters of all kinds of pastel colors (light blue and lilac mainly).

he likes birds. small, tiny ones the most. he finds them to be adorable and loves their singing.

draws little skulls on his notebook whenever he’s bored at school and likes to collect stationery stuff.

ꞝ Ruki M.

low key loves piercings and tattoos. he has both his ears full of piercings (his favorite is the industrial), silver jewelry with onyx gems in it is his go-to. he also has a labret piercing on his face.

he loves mathematics, physics and chemistry at school. the hardest other people find a subject, the easier it is for him. yes he’s a math god.

is a cleaning freak. if the walls and floors aren’t shining and he can’t see his own reflection on the table then the house isn’t clean enough.

ꞝ Shu S.

a fan of björk. he is an artist and although his blatant love for classical music, he fancies peculiar music too and finds björk’s style to be cool and unique.

loves reading. his favorite genre is detective/mystery stories, he has this huge collection of novels that has re-readed at least 3 times.

one of his favorite animals is the owl. white ones with black, huge eyes. he finds to have a connection with these animals for some reason.

ꞝ Subaru S.

believe or not, he had an avril lavigne phase. he also had a “nightcore” phase of emo songs & to this day listens to “hello kitty”.

leather jackets are his style. he’s a total black guy when it comes to clothing, and loves the look of leather in general. even more if they got studs here and there.

wears crystals. he does know each crystals’ purpose and low key believes their power. the ones he uses the most are apache tear & rose quartz, because it reminds him of his mother.

✧ (u guys can find the other boys in this post!)

~thank u sm for reading!! which one is ur fav boy? i love Yuma so much. also, i love yui too so i’m probably gonna make hdcs about her too soon. stick around if u like. reblogs are super appreciated (//＾◡＾//)

#diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers yuma #diabolik lovers shu #diabolik lovers ruki #diabolik lovers azusa #diabolik lovers subaru #diabolik lovers more blood #yuma my best boy #mclmo’s dl #⟢

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krissiefox · 1 month ago

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Blogs about horror media, metal music, and goth culture. List is below the divider!

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https://www.tumblr.com/cryptblood Horror Images

https://monster-brains.tumblr.com/ Monster art galore! Lots of horror manga art, especially.

https://www.tumblr.com/necr0g0re Art, goth fashion, music, spooky stuff.

https://plastiboo.tumblr.com/ Horror & Dark Fantasy Art

https://pixelated-nightmares.tumblr.com/ Horror art (gore warning)

https://nickolashx.tumblr.com/ Horror games

https://horrorshocklolipop.tumblr.com/ Spooky gifs & images.

https://abstractfigure.tumblr.com/ Horror & monster art

https://wormzone.tumblr.com/ Spooky art, animations, game design

https://deep-dark-fears.tumblr.com/ Short comics about people's fears

https://corpse-dog.tumblr.com/ Animal themed horror art.

https://obscure-perversions-blog.tumblr.com/ Spooky images and black metal.

https://puppetcombo.tumblr.com/ Cool indie horror game dev!

https://www.tumblr.com/sweetstench Strange videos! cool!

https://invisiblestation.tumblr.com/ Horror game screenshots & Scenery

https://brokenightlight.tumblr.com/ Spooky & liminal photos.

https://crod.tumblr.com/ Strange and spooky art. Some nsft stuff.

https://shayneofthedead.tumblr.com/ Goth fashion

https://welcome2creepshow.tumblr.com/ Blog about horror merch & music

https://lindzriot.tumblr.com/ Official blog of Lindsey Schoolcraft from cradle of Filth

https://thatcreepyreading.tumblr.com/ A Youtuber who makes videos about things like monsters and horror games.

https://carpenoctem20-blog.tumblr.com/ Classic 90s goth magazine.

https://www.tumblr.com/tapehead-finalgirl Horror VHS and t-shirts!

https://orb-s.tumblr.com/archive Creepy photographs.

https://www.mysteryfleshpitnationalpark.com/ A mysterious pit of flesh

https://sofiassecretspot.tumblr.com/ Goth fashion & metal music.

https://gut-shoveler.tumblr.com/ Creepy photos, music and game screens.

https://morbidfantasy21.tumblr.com/ Horror & dark fantasy art

https://thepumpkin-queenn.tumblr.com/ Halloween and horror gifs

https://ancientmorbidity.tumblr.com/ Metal images, spooky photos and art

https://www.tumblr.com/cinemamind Horror art and animations

https://davidfirth.tumblr.com/ Creator of the Salad Fingers video series.

https://www.tumblr.com/meat-wall T H E W A L L S A R E M A D E O F M E A T

https://goryhorror.tumblr.com/ Horror art

https://mrcreepypasta.tumblr.com/ Spooky stories!

https://www.tumblr.com/chrispandres-blog Handmade monsters, demons, etc and Satanic art.

https://hottopic.tumblr.com/ Hot Topic blog.

https://www.tumblr.com/florescentlcvesickness?page=2 Goth & horror images, gifs, etc.

https://receptorconsuming.tumblr.com/ Video game blog that seems to mostly focus on horror games. Lots of obscure Japanese horror games.

https://www.tumblr.com/nocontextanaloghorror Small analog horror blog, inactive.

https://brokehorrorfan.com/ Various horror collectibles

https://danielstalter.tumblr.com/ Reviews of R.L. Stine books!

https://www.tumblr.com/drew-melancholy A very RED horror art and photography blog.

https://www.tumblr.com/sinisterscribbles Horror art accompanied by short stories.

https://www.tumblr.com/urnot-safehere Creepy photos, art and liminal spaces.

https://www.tumblr.com/decatris Creepy photos and images.

https://www.tumblr.com/c-u-r-s-e-d-i-m-a-g-e-s more weird images.

https://the-unwanted-houseguest.tumblr.com/ Scary stories & songs.

https://www.tumblr.com/ruth-hill Spooky liminal spaces

https://doctorwolfula.tumblr.com/ Blog of Youtube horror host Dr. Wolfula!

https://deadstrangeblog.tumblr.com/ Spooky stuff

https://cryptrites.tumblr.com/ Spooky & Satanic art/gifs

https://jebberz.tumblr.com/ Horror games, movies, comics, and industrial music.

https://isisaacdead.tumblr.com/ Binding of Isaac blog.

https://knivpojke.tumblr.com/ Cry of Fear / Afraid of Monsters fan blog

https://www.tumblr.com/cryoffearvibes Photos that feel like Cry of Fear locations.

https://deadmeatjames.tumblr.com/ Blog of Dead Meat, a Youtube channel featuring kill counts, a horror podcast, and more!

https://evildeadtrilogy.tumblr.com/ Evil Dead gifs.

https://ashvsevildead.tumblr.com/ Gifs and screenshots of Ash vs Evil Dead. Sadly many images seem broken, but some are intact.

https://brucestacheappreciation.tumblr.com/ Bruce Campbell gifs

https://fuckyeahbruce-campbell.tumblr.com/ Bruce Campbell fan blog

https://killerklownsfromouterspace.tumblr.com/ Killer Klowns blog!

https://www.tumblr.com/killingfloor-fans Killing Floor fan blog.

https://www.tumblr.com/flash-some-cash Killing Floor fan blog focusing on DJ Skully.

https://schwarzewoelfin-blog.tumblr.com/ Marilyn Manson blog

https://www.tumblr.com/predatormovies Official blog about the Predator franchise

https://scpfoundationfiles-blog.tumblr.com/ SCP Blog.

https://scp-087-1-blog.tumblr.com/ Another SCP Blog

https://www.tumblr.com/teamsilenthills Silent Hill images and fan art.

https://frombrahams.tumblr.com/ Silent Hill Music Archive

https://dont-go-out.tumblr.com/ Silent Hill images, fanart.

https://fuckyeahericdraven.tumblr.com/ Blog about the 90s Crow movie

https://www.tumblr.com/jolly-pirate-nicknames-blog Another blog about the "The Crow".

https://cursedimages.tumblr.com/ I don't care for the term "cursed" but I do like weird and spooky pictures!

https://www.tumblr.com/dark-priest A cool blog with spooky photos, art, and animations.

https://www.tumblr.com/rhetthammersmithhorror Cool horror gifs!

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katuschka · 5 months ago

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Miss Lucifer – Part Two

Jake Kiszka x Lilith (f!OC) x Josh Kiszka

9000+ words

What happens in Berlin, stays in Berlin…but sometimes the outcome of the most whimsical ideas can alter the course of your whole life. Sometimes, you need to be shown the end of the road to be able to take it. Panther girl, take me home Hip to hip, bone to bone Evil heat, all night long, all night long, all night long... (Primal Scream)

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings: oral and penetrative sex, anal sex, threesome, fingering, alcohol consuption, allusions to debauchery, smoking, substance abuse, kidnapping (of sorts), hallucinations, sexual hallucinations, manipulation, succubus, swx demon, dominating female character, dark forces, magic

Taglist Part One

“Sorry mate, I’m serious! Not interested.”

Josh finally managed to outpin himself from the wall, pass under the guy’s outstretched arm and get out of that godforsaken bathroom. Tony – that’s how he introduced himself – was cute, but not really Josh’s type. Too much surgical steel on his face…

Once again in the main hall, he looked around to check if Jake was still at the bar where he had left him five minutes ago. That was a long enough time for any kind of shit to happen, as it was – in Jake’s words – “anything-could-happen Monday”. Josh felt like the overall experience had already been more than sufficient, even without getting railed in the bathroom stall by a walking magnet. He had enough of this place and wanted to get out of here ASAP.

They had checked a few bars on their way, but as it was Monday, most places were either half empty and boring, or full of tourists and football fans. Jake had something else in mind. That’s why his pupils dilated in excitement when he saw the sign above the entrance. BeelzebOOb. Just when they thought that their “new and exciting experience” would be reduced to obtaining an extensive knowledge of the S-Bahn timetable, they discovered this peculiar quarter part of the city with quirky nightclubs and other establishments. This one caught Jake’s attention immediately. It was indeed a sign. He had promised his brother boobs, and hopefully that’s what they were going to get here. Much to Josh’s dismay, who remarked that most of the visitors would probably have their nipples pierced (and he wasn’t particularly keen on that), Jake still wanted to check the place out.

The inside of the club was basically just one long and narrow hall, decorated in steampunk fashion. A long bar on one side, a row of discreet cubicles instead of regular tables on the other. The furthest part of the room consisted of a small dance floor, even though the people grooved to the deafening psytrance music wherever they happened to be at that moment. The dance floor was just a little bit more crowded. A row of iron pillars dividing the room in two even narrower sections looked like it had been added there additionally and seemed to have no practical function apart from making the whole place look even more industrial and cool. Fashionwise, the two of them clearly didn’t belong, but nobody cared.

“Seriously? This looks like the Ministry of Magic after dark,” Josh muttered, scanning the place left and right.

“Exactly! Isn’t it fun? C’mon, let’s have a drink.”

Before Josh could react, Jake was already making his way through the quirky crowd right to the bar. That was when Josh noticed and realized the real purpose of those pillars, as many people seemed to use it to bind themselves or others to them with handcuffs or just scarves. He stopped in his tracks for a second, making Jake turn around and look what hindered him. He followed Josh’s gaze and froze.

“Are they…?”

“Yeah…,” Josh answered, watching the scene with an open mouth. “Fucking.”

Jake just laughed incredulously. It was a bit out of his character, but on the other hand, he seemed to find exactly what he wanted. “Bitchin’! I already love it here. Let’s go grab that beer.”

So, an hour and two beers later, Josh was trying to squeeze himself through the crowd to get back to Jake and to convince him to abort mission. Tonight’s plan was not a success. It didn’t help him with his anxiety and he was still annoyed with Jake, this time for dragging him in here. At least he was blissfully unaware of a pair of eyes watching him intently from the darkest corner.

Mercifully, Jake was still occupying his original spot, even though he wasn’t alone either. Before Josh could get to them though, the girl turned around and disappeared into the crowd.

“Pretty. Nice ass. Why did she leave so suddenly? Did you by chance introduce her to Oliver?”

Jake sighed and took another gulp. “Pretty, but painfully stupid. And to tell you the truth, I’m not entirely sure it was a girl…”

Josh just chuckled. “Does it matter?”

“Maybe not to YOU, but I got a bit more refined taste, brother.”

“Oh yeah? Vanilla is a very refined flavor. So sweet, so fine…”

Jake scoffed. Maybe coming here wasn’t such a good idea. He had hoped that dragging Josh out of that hotel would bring new impulses to their friendship, but since his beloved brother decided to continue being such a dick, they might as well just go back and resume beating their meat in their respective rooms. “Ok, prick, I think we should call it a night.”

“I was just going to suggest the same thing.”

“Fine! Just let me finish this bottle and we’re out of here.”

“Oh, but that would be such a shame, wouldn’t it. The night is young and you’re both awfully pretty. May I suggest just one more round of drinks?”

The honeyed voice belonged to two warm hands that were now gently caressing both their backs, respectively. Completely astonished by the familiarity of the touch, they both turned around to find a startlingly beautiful woman standing right behind them. Shoulder-length dark and shiny curls dancing playfully around her head. She was dressed in a latex corset, black leather pants tucked into high Martens boots – a styling not much different from other common guests. Yet, there was definitely something about her. She looked well-kept, almost royal. It looked like others treated her just like that because the people closest to them suddenly withdrew, making a special, comfortable room for the three of them.

Totally Jake’s type, Josh thought, although he couldn't imagine anyone being completely impartial to her. Rounded, ample breasts, curvy hips, round shoulders and delicate, tiny wrists, but not too much. She looked soft, but moulded by gods. He was sure Fibonacci would weep if he saw her.

Jake was completely mesmerized by her, examining her like a picture of a saint in Uffizi with a silly smile plastered on his face while she kept coming up with more and more flirtatious antics. She paused at last, expecting them to give her at least a hint of who she was talking to, while procuring a cigarette holder out of nowhere. She bent over the counter and the bartender lit the cigarette for her without a word. Taking a draw, she raised her eyebrows in anticipation, urging them to say something. Anything.

Josh was the first to collect himself. “Um, I’m Josh. This is my brother Jake.”

“Perfect,” she giggled. “Josh and Jake, two halves of one delicious cake. I am Lily.” She shook both their hands in turn. Jake held it up to his lips and kissed her knuckles, earning the crafty smile from her and an eye-roll from Josh. She kept a silent eye contact with him before she placed the cigarette holder delicately between her red lips again and took a long drag, exhaling slowly towards the ceiling.

“You can smoke in here?”

Really Jake, thought Josh. That’s the best line you can come up with?

However, it either worked, or she simply pretended to be entertained, because she tugged at one of his loose strands playfully and laughed earnestly. “I can do whatever I want here, I own this place.”

It was again followed by a rather uncomfortable silence and Josh thought she would finally get tired of them, but she turned her back to the bar and rested her elbow against the counter. She was rather tenacious.

“I’m curious, boys, are those plump lips as delicious as they appear to be?” she asked, eyeing them both in turns until her eyes rested on Jake’s pendants for a longer while.

The bold question made them both lick their lower lips unwittingly and pretty much in unison, but their subsequent reactions were different.

Josh’s eyes narrowed in apprehension when Lily finally turned her head back to him and their eyes met. A possible scenario flashed in front of his eyes, but it was definitely NOT what he had imagined earlier. It made him a bit uneasy, to be honest. She sensed it and grinned viciously.

Jake, on the other hand, was past the point of reasoning. Driven completely by lust now, he just wanted to turn her attention back to him. “There’s only one way for you to find out,” finally mustering all his courage, he teased. He really liked the audacity with which she presented herself, it made his cock twitch and he was really curious if she was just as bold in her actions as she was with her words. The look she shot him made his heart jump to his throat though.

“You’re absolutely right,” she answered, grabbed him by the nape of his neck and forcefully pressed her lips on his. Jake opened his mouth immediately and she licked into it with gusto, pressing him against the counter. Oozing dominance, she made it known that she was in charge with every movement as negligible as a simple wiggle of her finger, and Jake showed no inclination to fight it. He rested his hands timidly on each side of her waist and let her do whatever she pleased. With his eyebrows raised in an expression of surprise and surrender, he just kept moaning into her mouth like a virgin attacked by a sex demon. Well…

Josh watched them with his mouth half open, completely mesmerized and a bit frightened at the same time. Jake was a flirt, but Josh had never seen him fall for someone so easily. Granted, she was gorgeous and there was something about her that made him question his own judgment, because the scene made the muscles just below his navel spasm as the blood drained from his brain and moved to the nether regions. She sensed his stare as well as the movement and simply reached behind her to casually grab at his crotch, making him yelp like a pup and shrink back from her, reversing the process of dumbing-down just a little bit.

“Jake, I think we should go!” His voice was low and commanding. He was playing the older brother now.

That quirky imp surely could exide dominance if he wanted to, and she couldn’t help but admire him for trying. She didn’t – however – admire the fact that it obviously worked, as Jake's grip on her waist loosened and he finally tried to pull away. She wouldn’t have that. Obviously, there was no way to have one without the other and it was much harder to get under the curly one’s skin. Oh well, sigh. Life became much easier when being just a shameless slut turned out to be enough to get what she wanted, but in this case, she would have to try some of her old tricks. It would cost her much more valuable energy and there were times when she regretted it because it turned out that the man wasn’t worth it. However, the two of them combined would easily make up for it. She could tell.

So, with a final obscene lick at the corner of Jake’s mouth, she turned back to Josh and blew air in his face. It felt like being attacked by a cloud of jasmine powder and it left him momentarily stunned. Seizing her chance, she planted a much more restrained kiss on his parted lips. Her own tasted like linden honey and without any conscious thought, he licked her lip in return and let her deepen the kiss, the tips of their tongues just brushing against each other playfully. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and started playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. That was his Achilles heel.

Just when he felt as if his brain had run out of oxygen, she left what felt like a pill on his tongue and released him.

“Swallow,” he heard her say, but her lips didn’t move. What is this, he thought without really thinking, and then she spoke again: “Trust me.”

This time he realized that her voice was coming from inside his head and he shook it as if trying to break free from invisible chains, because the realization chilled him to the bone. He still heard her humming, the sound coming to him from every direction now, even though she just stood there right in front of him, smiling engagingly. Are you crazy? Why should I trust you? Leave me alone, he thought again and was about to spit the pill out, when a vision appeared right in front of his eyes. It was like watching a video on a translucent screen hovering in mid-air. He could see both Jake and Lily through it, but the image was crystal clear. It was something only he knew about. A face of a classmate from a long time ago, long forgotten, but the feeling lingered. It was all coming back to him now, all those midnight musings, stolen glances, the taste of his skin as well as the final rejection. These were the scenes from the times when he thought he had nowhere to go, and everything to lose…

“Swallow, and I’ll show you the future, too. I promise it’s much brighter.” The vision evaporated like a mist and someone turned on the music again…He couldn’t move, standing there like a salt pillar with his lips now pressed firmly together and the eyes wide open, unable to focus.

“Josh?” Jake’s voice, as well as deep concern etched on his face, finally brought Josh from his reverie. Lily, on the other hand, looked completely unaffected. With the same radiant smile, she just snapped her fingers in front of his eyes, clearly mocking him: “Hey, baby. Are you still with us?”

He did it. Acting against his better judgment, he rolled the pill on his tongue slowly and then swallowed. Jake wanted a fucking soul-searching adventure, so let’s do this. The rational part of his mind already pictured their faces on a missing persons poster, but the blithe and curious creature that dwelled in his subconsciousness seemed to take over and decided that he in fact did trust her. He just had no idea why. Maybe it was just a selfish curiosity prompted by what she knew, and also what she claimed she knew. How did she know? He wanted her to show him more. He needed more.

She playfully patted him on the cheek in appreciation with just her fingertips before she raised her arms up and stretched lasciviously like a cat., rubbing her ample bosom against Jake’s upper arm. “Oh yeah, that was delicious,” she crooned. “I’m pretty sure your other parts are just as tasty. Now…I don’t know how about you two, but I feel like dancing. Shall we?” With that, she swayed her hips into the rhythm to further accentuate her point.

Jake ignored her at first, still trying to ascertain what the hell just happened, mouthing a silent question to Josh who just shook his head without words, still a bit stunned. Even though Jake would gladly let her cunt swallow his dick under other circumstances, the effect she had on his brother scared him. Lily was getting impatient. She cleared her throat in an attempt to draw their attention back to her. “Dance!” she commanded.

“Uh…I don’t dance… and I think Josh was right, I think we should go…”

“No way! Come on baby, show your brother how it’s done!” She pouted at Jake and turned to Josh again, taking him by the hand, leading him to the dancefloor like a small child. With a flick of her hand, the music got louder and the whole room got dimmer, only the strobe lights in the furthest corner now illuminated the dancefloor and adjacent cubicles. The rest of the space was swallowed by darkness.

Everyone’s attention turned towards the dance floor. She was clearly a local star here. The owner, sure, but her magnetic presence made everyone watch her with reverence. Jake watched sulkily as their bodies swayed together in the middle of the dance floor, limbs intertwined and their curly heads bouncing to the aggressive beat. Seriously? Just five minutes ago, he wanted to get out of this place. Whatever she did to his twin, Jake wasn’t going to just stand there and watch it. He was also a tiny bit jealous, but god knows he’d never admit that.

He took the last sip of his beer and ventured forward to join them. A new song started playing, a familiar one. The small crowd on the dancefloor whooped in unison and went into a frenzy as Keith Flint’s voice bounced against the tiled walls.

Breathe the pressure Come play my game, I'll test ya

He tapped on her shoulder when he reached them and she turned to him immediately. “Look who decided to join us,” she stuck out her tongue at him and grinned.

“Shut up and kiss me,” he shouted.

“Only if you’re going to dance!” She put her arms around his shoulders and pressed her parted lips on his, while trying to convince him to move to the rhythm with her. He obliged. Pressing his thigh in between her legs and grabbing her just above the waist so that his thumbs intentionally brushed against her tits, he started moving with her.

Josh did not like the new situation he found himself in. At all! His head was pounding and everything around him seemed to blur as his pupils dilated. He kept holding onto her hips with just his fingertips in an attempt to keep physical contact with anyone at least partially familiar, because the floor under his feet started to shake. The crowd moved, he got pushed aside and lost all the remaining contact with the two of them. All he could see were a few of her curls bouncing over other people’s heads. A tall and lanky albino guy, scantily clad in black leather but with an obnoxious amount of silver adorning his whole body, grabbed his hips instead and pressed himself against Josh’s butt, their dance moves becoming more and more obscene, bouncing together to the beat lewdly.

As Josh grew more and more dizzy, he soon turned into a mere rag doll in the arms of the albino, who now proceeded to assault Josh’s neck with his mouth, the spike piercing under his lower lip scratching Josh’s jugular. He tried to break free from the man’s grasp at last, but then everything turned dark and his lifeless form fell down to the ground.

With the help of two other guys, the albino scooped him from the floor and tried to carry him away from the crowd, only to be stopped by Jake’s arm. They completely ignored him, so he literally jumped on the albino’s shoulders in order to stop him. Lily pulled him away. “It’s ok, Jake.” She looked calm and stern, a stark contrast to Jake, who suddenly looked like a maniac.

“What the fuck do you mean!” he shouted, but still could barely hear his own voice due to the loud music. How come he could hear her clearly even though she barely moved her lips? She didn’t respond this time, simply grabbed his arm and motioned to him to follow them. He yanked it out from her grasp, searching his pockets for his phone. “That’s it, I’m calling the police,” he shouted again.

“No, you’re not.”

This time she didn’t move her lips at all. Mesmerized, he watched her fumbling with a lighter and a strange looking pack of smokes at the very same time as he heard those words, almost like a whisper. Lily lit another cigarette, inhaled the fragrant smoke and grabbed Jake’s jaw, digging her fingers in his cheeks in order to force his mouth open. He could feel her black nails breaking into his skin and tried to back away again. A cloud of funny smelling smoke hit his nostrils as she exhaled and his body went numb a second later.

Cooooome play my gaaaame Inhale, inhale, you're the victim

Everything around him began to spin, making him nauseous, but he didn’t lose consciousness entirely. His legs gave out, though, and he could feel two pairs of hands grabbing him under his armpits before he could fall to the ground. Other dancers around them were making room for them to pass through the small crowd on the dance floor, but no one batted an eye at the sight of them. Those people seemed completely unfazed, as if him stumbling half conscious behind that witch and her cronies was something completely normal.

Like a small, macabre procession, they slowly left the club through some back entrance and were now ascending up the stairs, Jake still stumbling like a wooden puppet. Oh yes, that’s what she was – a puppeteer. He could feel his eyelids drooping and desperately tried to fight it. He needed to stay awake, to wake Josh and to get them out of this mess. Whatever was going to happen to Josh now, he was to blame… He was to…

He blacked out for mere seconds, but the surroundings changed rapidly in the meantime. First he noticed two large frosted glass double doors, decorated in art deco fashion. The nearest pair to their right was completely open, revealing what looked like an antique shop full of various trinkets as they passed it by. The second door at the end of the hall was half closed, leading to a dimly illuminated and particularly cozy tea room.

In the middle of the room, there was a large, elevated platform that looked like something between a box and a huge bed, covered with a soft carpet. Large and heavy cushions were propped up against wooden rails that surrounded three sides of the platform. A wooden crate with a single bulk candle on top obviously served as a table. He was put down on the platform and the last thing he could see in his peripheral vision was Josh already lying on the cushions next to him. He lost consciousness a second later.

He didn’t know how long it took before he came to himself again, but the next thing he saw was Lily standing in the doorway clad in a satin bathrobe. She was holding a tea tray which she carefully placed on the crate, took the kettle and poured the steaming contents into a simple clay cup, which she then handed to Jake. He immediately refused but she was adamant. “Drink. It’s just chamomile tea with honey. It will make you feel better.” Her voice was low and calm and he took a sniff at the contents of the cup. It seemed that she didn’t lie, but he still hesitated, so she drank some and offered him the rest with an appeasing smile.

He took a sip and placed the cup carefully on the crate. Then he looked at Josh again and took his brother’s hand in his, caressing the dorsal side with his thumb. “What did you do to him?”

She watched his actions with a kind smile for a few seconds before responding: “He’s just sleeping. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. It’s just a pill I gave him, its effects will go away soon. And before you say anything else, he swallowed it willingly. True, I have my ways to convince people to do what I want, but…”

“But why? Why are we here?”

Lily took a deep breath, as if contemplating something, and placed her hand on Josh’s thigh, moving it gently upwards. Jake felt a sudden urge to swap her hand away, but she was quicker, bending towards Jake to lick at his lower lip with her tongue. “I want you Jake. You alone would be more than enough, but you wouldn’t follow me here without him and he was much more resistant…also, I promised him something.” She suddenly cupped his balls with her other hand, making him hiss. She was now palming them both through their pants. Josh, still asleep, moaned softly through his nose and stirred just slightly. Jake suddenly felt a huge lump in his throat. It was obscene, this whole situation was wrong on so many levels, but he couldn’t help but feel fascinated by her actions. He was also willing to give her what she wanted – whatever it was – if it saved his brother. This was all his fault.

“Please don’t play games with him. He doesn’t deserve it. He…”

“I know,” she interrupted him and straightened up, placing her hands back on her thighs. “I saw his vision.”

Jake was getting more and more confused. “What vision?”

“His past desire. Something like this…” She snapped her fingers and his vision blurred for a split second before a second figure materialized in front of him.

Jake inhaled sharply. He could feel his heart beating in his throat, pumping adrenaline into every inch of his body. This was a genuine fight-or-flight situation, yet he didn’t want to run away from it and he didn’t want to fight it either. She was there, right in front of him. His silent girlfriend. Sweet sixteen. He almost forgot about this young version of her, bent over an acoustic guitar in her turquoise muslin sundress, strumming the sweetest song. He didn’t even realize how much he missed her bright eyes and raven locks. Or her sweet kisses that he never really got to taste…He lifted his arms, but his hands froze in mid air. He desperately wanted to touch her face, but was too scared to do so… and then she was suddenly gone again. Instead, Lily was looking at him with compassion in her own eyes. She blinked twice, then spoke again.

“But this wasn’t real, was it.”

Jake still couldn’t get his breathing under control, his heart still beating like crazy. “Are you a fucking witch, or what?” He was gnawing at the inside of his mouth in a vain attempt not to break down in front of this… this… creature.

She only scoffed at his question, instead demanding the answer he still didn’t give her: “Answer me!” She looked sinister for a second, then her features softened again. She could taste his emotions on her tongue, but instead of the expected sourness of defiance, all she could discern was a lavender-ish aroma of longing. It was no use to try to subjugate him by force. And it wouldn’t be fair. He was already enthralled anyway, and he wasn’t going to leave. It also meant he was even more valuable than she had expected. They both were.

He let out a heavy exhale, almost a sob. “No, it wasn’t real. It was just a daydream, but so elaborate she even visited me in my dreams a few times.” He had no idea why he was even telling her all this, but the truth was that he suddenly felt a bit lighter.

“Your perfect girl?” she trilled.

Jake didn’t want to answer this one. He closed his eyes, trying to fight off the tears that threatened to spill. A fuckboy on the outside, he had this secret dream. Almost no one knew about her, only Josh did. She kept him company when it was just him and his hand in the middle of the night. She disappeared eventually, as there was no room for her in his increasingly busy life, but he recalled her smile from time to time. And then he refused to add the song on the album. It was too bittersweet.

“Look at me!” she ordered suddenly, her voice so strong it echoed in the room and bounced off the walls, but it was no longer menacing. Just powerful. He opened his eyes and yelped. She was her, bone and flesh, so real he started to tremble, yet so unreal at the same time.

“So, you’re a shapeshifter, too.”

“Yes. Men who are nothing but selfish, chauvinistic swines, think I am a monster. So that’s how I appear to them, it is their choice. They don’t deserve anything else. I steal from the takers, but I can be very generous, too. I’ve been observing you, Jake, and I’m impressed by what I’ve seen so far.” Her voice was suddenly soft as velvet, and when she offered him her hand, he willingly took it.

This was surreal, the whole encounter. He couldn’t comprehend what was going on. He looked at the small cup on the crate warily. “Have you drugged me again?”

“No,” she shook her head with a warm smile. “This is much more powerful than drugs. It’s all already in your head. I’m not altering your consciousness, I’m just reading you, and I’m… bringing it to the surface. But you shouldn’t worry. I’m not cruel. It wouldn’t work if you weren’t willing. And I’m not going to torture you with this. In fact, this is beautiful! Oh my Lord down below, the two of you have so much to offer!”

If she thought this explanation was supposed to assure him he was safe, she failed miserably. “What do you want?” he whispered.

She reacted with a resonant laugh, while still trying to keep a kind face. It wasn’t hard. She didn’t have to dissemble the affection she felt towards him. “You should be asking what I’m willing to offer in return, Jake. You still think you’re in some kind of danger, but all I want is you to feed me.”

His eyes widened in horror, which made her chuckle, but she realized how much was at stake. She had already said too much, she wasn’t usually that eloquent, partly because getting what she wanted was commonly much easier, and partly because she thought he deserved the explanation, so she quickly clarified: “With the bodily fluid you can spare.” Jake frowned and responded with just a simple “oh.” They neither moved nor said anything else for a few seconds. At last, she spoke: “I am not usually asking such questions, because I don’t make requests, but…,” she paused for a short while again, seemingly lost in contemplation, before she continued, her face now so close he could feel her hot breath on his skin: “Will you kiss me, Jake? I want you to kiss me just like you would kiss her. Would you do that?”

The sudden vulnerability in her voice took him by surprise and it was impossible to say no. He took her alabaster face in his hands and closed the gap between them, their lips dancing together to the music which he craved and which she secretly admired. It made her ancient heart sing along. She saw a vision of a world where this power would prevail and it glazed her eyes with longing. It had been her choice to spend eternity trying to punish men for destroying it; it was also her responsibility to nurture it. He felt it and the overwhelming effect of that particular sensation made him fall into her embrace, succumbing to her entirely.

When their mouths finally parted, she stroked his cheek and smiled, weeping silently. Her dark curls straightened and lengthened again, shiny strands dancing in the air as if they were animated by a gentle breeze, even though all windows were closed. He could see gleams of sheer white chiffon flickering in it, embroidered by tiny, bell-shaped flowers, perhaps lily of the valley…or maybe spring snowflakes? He could always tell when spring was coming. Even when it was still bitterly cold outside, one day something in the air just changed and he could literally smell the shift of seasons. He loved spring. Tiny green buds bursting with new life and covering the world in light green tint everywhere he looked. He wanted those colors in his life. White and light green, and maybe blue or pink. The concept of the circle of life fascinated him and now he could feel how his own life reached a point when he wanted to step in that circle. He watched in silent wonder how her belly swelled and retracted back again before his fingers could touch it. She smiled at him contentedly. It was a mother’s smile.

A new wave of arousal swept through him, a different kind. His previous responses to her flirtations were purely carnal, and no wonder, when she had acted like a feline. But then she dug into his soul, embraced what she saw without judgment and let him relive it for a little while. He needed more. “What did you promise Josh? he asked.

“A sneak peak into his future,” she answered.

“Will you show me mine?”

“If you want me to, then yes.”

“Take it, then” he whispered and she nodded silently.

She reached down and unbuckled his belt. His fingertips spread out her bathrobe and he let it slide off of her shoulders. It all seemed to him to be happening in slow motion. They played this stripping game until they were both completely naked, then she suddenly pushed him down on the cushions and straddled him. He tilted his head back, exposing his neck to her, and she licked at his jugular like a gourmand, as if his skin was covered with a thin caramel crust. He tasted delicious. She could feel his strong pulse, and purred in appreciation. Traveling down his warm body, already slick with perspiration, she encircled his left pectoral with a swift, catlike lick, her pussy leaving a wet stripe on his right thigh. She was too much of a tease. He wanted to grab those rounded hips and just push her down on his throbbing cock, but when he tried to move his arms, they suddenly felt like they were made of lead. He tried to scream, but couldn’t make a sound. Her voice echoed inside his skull again. “Relax Jake, I want to be giving tonight. Steady on, and it will be pleasant. The paralysis isn't my doing, it’s the response of your system that still tries to overpower me. Breathe!”

He tried. Calm down, Jake. Inhale, exhale. With her warm hand now pressing on his chest, he tried to take a long, deep breath to overcome the sudden surge of panic, but it was not an easy task. The complex sensations attacking all his senses now were just too overwhelming. The air in the room got heavy with resin fumes and musk and her own scent reminded him of some sort of floral nectar. The rich combination of all the olfactory stimuli around him was making him increasingly lightheaded again. Overpowered by it, he closed his eyes and the world started spinning, so he quickly opened them again to a new, altered reality. She was swirling around and over his form like some sort of pearly serpent and the walls around them turned to nacre. Everything around them sparkled like ripples of water surface under the northern sun. He couldn’t tell what was true anymore, but it didn’t matter, because her touch felt like liquid velvet. He arched his back in search of even more physical contact. He needed to feel every inch of her, gluing his sweat-covered skin to hers. Her hands roamed over him, cool and soothing.

He succumbed to the feeling, and the tension in his chest finally subsided, fear leaving his body in waves. In fact, he’d swear he could hear and feel actual sea waves…

When he was thirteen or fourteen, he had a very vivid dream about being in a small boat drifting along a tropical shore during the most beautiful sunrise he had ever seen. He still remembered every detail of that dream even more than a decade later, as if it actually happened. She was there with him, with her back turned to him. Without even being able to see her face, he knew he loved her. That was their first encounter and all his subsequent fantasies, the whole alternative reality that he created in his head, stemmed from the feeling she ignited in him in that dream. The boat must have been leaking because there was water inside the boat too, washing over his limbs like lukewarm chamomile tea. He wasn’t afraid of sinking and the boat in fact kept floating. Everything was so calm and quiet when the sun finally appeared on the horizon while the stars were still visible above them. That’s when she started singing, binding his heart to the idea of her forever.

“This is beautiful Jake, truly. Thank you for showing me,” Lily whispered in his ear, bringing him from his trance and back to her. He could see her still hovering over him, her smiling face now mere inches from his. She kissed him again, tenderly, and he reciprocated. Moaning in her open mouth, he felt close to losing his mind, but her hand suddenly grabbing at his cock brought him back to the physical world.

Before he knew it, she slid down his body again and took him in her mouth, making him yelp in surprise. She was good, her smooth tongue cradling the underside of his head in one second and lapping at his balls just a flick of a moment later, after she swallowed him down effortlessly, her throat contracting around him.

She was too good, in fact. Frantically grabbing at the cushions around him and groaning loudly, he feared he was going to embarrass himself in front of her. Her laughter echoed inside his skull again. She knew. She could feel him pulsate against her tongue and playfully tickled one of the veins with just the tip of it while his swollen head kept leaking precum deep in her throat. In a vain attempt to steady himself, he shook his head like a madman. That’s when he heard another startled moan. It took him a second to realize that it wasn’t him this time and his heart skipped a beat. He had completely forgotten where he was and how he got there. Turning his head slowly to the side, he met a mirrored gaze: two dark eyes, wide open now, staring back at him. They looked at each other in stunned silence for several seconds until she took the reins again. Abandoning Jake’s cock with a playful pop, she stretched like a cat, rubbed her cheek against Jake’s right thigh and licked her lips, cackling. “Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Looks like your brother got a bit preoccupied here, but I haven’t forgotten about you. Want me to show you what that means?”

He responded with just a soft whimper, turning to his brother again, searching for guidance… and found none. Jake’s eyes were closed again, his brows knit together, and another moan escaped his parted lips. Josh’s eyes traveled down back to her and he saw her fist sliding up and down Jake’s cock with a steady rhythm. Looking intently into Josh’s eyes while doing so, she pressed the thumb of her other hand on her tongue and swirled it around lasciviously, before she enveloped it with her plump lips and sucked on it, winking at Josh while doing so. It made his own dick twitch again and she hummed with satisfaction. What a banquet tonight! She whooped in delight, making them both shoot a surprised look at her.

Abandoning Jake’s cock for a moment, but without breaking eye contact with Josh, she got on all four and positioned herself in a space between them, offering herself to Jake like a bitch in heat. Too stunned to move, Josh just kept lying on the cushions, his gaze shifting between them. He watched in astonishment as Jake got up, positioned himself behind her and entered her with one swift thrust. Her warmth made him shudder and he buried his fingertips into the amble flesh of her hips to steady himself. Tilting his head back, he started fucking her without a single thought left in his head.

Lily’s face hovered right above Josh’s crotch and she watched his bodily reaction to the whole situation with smug amusement.

“Men,” she scoffed. “Strip for me, baby. Set that beauty free.” With that, she kissed his clothed bulge and gave it a gentle stroke with her index and middle finger.

As if in a dream, he fumbled at the button of his pants with shaking hands. The zipper was next and before he even realized what he was really doing, he slid his pants down his legs and kicked them aside. His hard-on twitched again, as if waving at her. Joshito says hello.

Always a man who laughs at his own jokes, he chuckled at the idea and quickly covered his face with hands and groaned in embarrassment.

“Don’t play coy, Joshua. We both know you are a deviant piece of art. Show me how much. Come on.” Poking his chin, she motioned him to get up and get rid of his white shirt. Sitting on his heels now and still trying to avoid looking at Jake, he slowly reached for the hem and pulled the shirt over his head. “Beautiful,” she pursed her lips and moaned. “Come here, baby.”

He almost mirrored her own position now. On his hands and knees, he crawled even closer to her, his parted lips almost touching hers. She brushed his cheek with the tip of her nose and pressed her forehead to his. He felt the rhythmic sway of her body and started moving in unison with her as Jake continued thrusting into her deeply in a slow, sensual rhythm. Behind his closed eyelids, he could see silvery smoke circling around him like dust around a protosun, before it shaped and shifted in two androgynous figures. At first they were just some incorporeal entities, flickering around him like paper silhouettes, until he felt their touch.

They positioned themselves behind and in front of him, respectively. He couldn’t see their faces, he wasn’t even sure they had any. He simply felt their presence, and that was the only thing that mattered. If he were a blank canvas, their hands would paint multicolor waves all around his body. The vision of him arched his back and howled, the real Josh whimpered and grabbed Lily’s moving shoulders.

One of the creatures in his vision suddenly grabbed his hips – just as Jake held hers – and thrusted into him forcefully and without warning, but he felt no pain. Only exhilarating pleasure. The sensation made him gasp and through the haze of his lucid hallucinations, he heard her laugh.

A wave of panic similar to Jake’s swept over him when he tried to open his eyes and realized that he couldn’t. His mind was locked inside the vision completely; he was losing control over his body, only barely aware that he was still leaning against her. He could still hear. In fact, the noises around him only intensified and amplified. Jake’s moans and her cackles rumbled around him like a thunderstorm.

The vision shifted again and he found himself in an ouroboros-like formation of pearly bodies, all swaying together in a circle in one collective act of love. One of them kept pounding his ass, another one in front of him demanded to be penetrated. The sensation was almost too intense, and Josh let out a long, high-pitched wail. Still clutching Lily’s shoulders, his hands began to tremble again. Let go, she whispered inside his head again, and he fell back on all four. The hallucination was gone all of the sudden, and with it the sensation. Josh moaned mournfully at the loss. He was now painfully hard and needed to do something about it. He looked her in the eye, silently pleading.

Without breaking eye contact, Lily straightened up and reached behind her to grab a handful of Jake’s hair, who huffed through his nose and quickened his pace, still lost in his own trance. Fucking her with a newfound virility, his hands traveled up her glittering form to cup her full breasts. They were now both towering over Josh, who watched them, mesmerized, but also feeling neglected and empty. Lily smiled down at him smugly.

“Are you aroused, Josh?” she asked calmly, almost mockingly.

“Yes,” he breathed out and bit his lower lip in a vain attempt to stay calm.

“Do you want to fuck?” It was just a whisper this time.

“Yeah,” he let out a high pitched whine.

She fell back on all four, so that their faces were again almost touching, and hissed in his ear: “As you wish.” Balancing only on her left arm, she reached out with her right hand and grabbed his hard dick. Taken by surprise, Josh whined again, but she quickly silenced him with a fervent kiss, while stroking him.

Move aside Jake, time to share. Her voice echoed in the room while her tongue continued exploring the inside of Josh’s mouth. Jake groaned in disagreement, but obeyed. Lily let go as well, quickly piled up several cushions and pillows in the middle of the platform and lay down on her back on them, her head now facing Jake. She grabbed her knees, spread her legs right in front of Josh’s face and whispered: “Your turn.”

Josh grabbed his cock and aligned himself with her entrance. He looked down at her and her eyes brightened with joy and playful mischief. “That’s the look I wanted to see, you filthy little beast!” she exclaimed. He responded with just his bratty smile and entered her, throwing one of her legs over his shoulder. With a contented purr, she tilted her head back, opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, her eyes on Jake.

He hesitated at first so she added: “Go ahead, big boy. I allow it. And I can take it.” And, without another word, Jake took both sides of her head in his hands and slid in. She grabbed his asscheeks and urged him to go deeper. Mesmerized, he watched how her throat heaved with each thrust. She gagged a few times, but it was just for the show, because she had already learned that contractions of her throat around his head would quickly send him over the edge… and she was getting really hungry. He had been almost there already when she made them switch positions and now could already feel his orgasm building up again. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, trying to hold it just a little bit longer, but the vicious bitch dipped her index finger in the saliva that was running down her cheek and thrusted it up his ass. He yelped at the new sensation and, jerking his hips violently, filled her throat with his hot cum.

Opening his eyes at last, he noticed Josh watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. He quickly averted his gaze and turned his attention back to Lily, while Jake collapsed back down on the remaining cushions, exhausted and completely spent. Lily swallowed, let out a relaxed sigh and her suddenly scaly skin started shimmering even more than before. Her pupils dilated and her back arched. Jake��s seed was delicious and knowing she’d get more soon, she got impatient and greedy. Josh could feel her muscles contract around him and groaned at the sensation. She was intentionally crushing him, trying to milk his penis like a teat. Her body started thrashing around like a fish out of the water. He put his hand on her belly in an attempt to steady her and could feel himself moving inside her. Sliding his hand down, his thumb found her clit and he started moving it in slow circles, but she grabbed his wrist to stop him and squeezed his dick with her walls again. His thighs started shaking, his rhythm faltered, and with a final, jerky thrust, he came hard and collapsed on top of her.

After he regained his composure again, Josh sat up slowly, pulling her up with him. He then looked at her, confused. “But, you don’t need to…?”

She laughed. “Oh, you’re truly precious. No, I absolutely do not need to, but if you insist, I shall want to…” With that, she lay back on the cushions and spread her legs again in a teasingly slow motion, putting her slick pussy on full display once again. They both watched her in awe, unmoving.

“...or do I have to do that myself?” She raised her eyebrow, a gesture of playful impatience, and started rubbing her clitoris with her middle finger.

Jake was the first one to recover. He moved around her, swatted her hand away and cupped her pussy with his own instead. “Let me show you how it’s done, little boy,” he winked at Josh.

“Oh fuck off, I know how to…” Josh retorted, but was quickly silenced by Lily’s annoyed grunt. “I’m not interested in your brotherly bickering. Get me off NOW!”

With that, Jake slid two fingers inside her and quickly found the bundle he was looking for, which made her nod in appreciation. Curling his fingers up, he was rewarded with a breathy moan and her hips jerked forward, pleading for more. Still watching the whole show, Josh bit his lip and dared to bend down, thrusting out the tip of his tongue to touch her with it, cautiously at first.

“Yes! More!” she hollered and he started fluttering his tongue over the swollen nub. With their combined effort, they made her whole body convulse soon and – screaming like a banshee – she squirted all over Jake’s hand and Josh’s chin.

Jake smiled smugly and playfully gestured for Josh to get the spoils. “It’s all yours, big boy.”

Josh flipped him off and leaned down in between her legs to lick up her own release. He expected to taste himself too, but her body already absorbed his cum. This was all her, and she tasted like elderberry syrup. He moaned involuntarily, almost startled. As if on cue, Jake licked his own fingers and his eyes widened. “Seriously, who are you?”

“I’m a nightmare,” she crooned. “...or simply a woman in a dream. Depends on who you are.”

Overcome with fatigue, they snuggled with her down on the pillows. Lily in the middle and the twins both on each side of her. “You promised,” Jake murmured, barely able to keep his eyes open.

“I know dear, and I’m going to keep my word. Rest now, it will come to you.” She cradled his head and stroked his damp hair. Then she turned to Josh, kissed his forehead gently and with her lips still pressed to his skin, she murmured: “You too honey, lay your head.”

They dreamt the same dream about a big house in the country, with birds singing and children running around, screaming and laughing.

Josh and his people just parked outside, all five of them. Three adults and two younglings. The kids were bouncing in their safety seats, wild and bubbly, singing Wheels on a Bus together with Josh. He looked at them through his rear-view mirror and smiled at the sight of their wobbling heads: one curly and the other one ginger, just like their fathers’. Their mother helped them from their seats before they jumped from the car, impatient. She grabbed her bag and followed them. Josh watched as she passed by his window, her hair turning to pure gold as the sun rays shone through the wild strands.

“Come on, Josh,” they’re waiting,” the blonde woman trilled. He could see his nephews slash godsons running towards them from behind the house, their distant laughter ringing in his ears. It looked like a scene from a movie, except this was his life. He turned to his right, kissed the ginger sitting next to him in the passenger seat and exited the car to meet them all. This was love. Those plump lips that could do wonders, the freckled nose above them, the blond hair dancing in the wind, tiny bare feet dancing on the overgrown grass…

Josh looked around and his heart started singing, overflowing with joy for his brother’s happiness. She was standing on the porch, watching the scene, her raven locks also dancing in the wind. She was real, flesh and bone, all that time just waiting to be discovered in a small diner just outside Nashville.

Jake’s form materialized from the dark shadow behind her. He now stood next to her, holding her lovingly by the waist while she kept caressing her swelling belly. He raised his other hand in acknowledgement and descended the few steps to say hello to his twin.

“It’s a girl this time. The doctor told us just yesterday.” That was his greeting.

“Well, congratulations! Finally.”

“Yeah, I began to think I didn’t know how to make them,” Jake chuckled, then looked back at her lovingly.

“It’s gonna be just like us,” Josh smiled. “Except this time, she’s gonna be the youngest. Better buy her a piano soon.”

Jake stepped closer and hugged his brother. This was unusual, as Josh was normally the one who initiated any kind of physical contact. He could feel his younger twin shaking, and patted him lovingly on his back.

“I love this life, Josh.”

“It’s been a pleasure spending it with you, brother.”

Jake was the first one to open his eyes, and they suddenly welled with tears.

“Josh?”

The body next him stirred and opening his own eyes, he looked at Jake. “I know…”

It was just the two of them now, both clothed in white linen caftans and snuggled together under a warm blanket. Neither of them could remember how they got dressed, but considering what happened last night, nothing surprised them anymore.

Suddenly they heard a soft melody coming to them from the adjacent room. It was Lily, humming a tune that sounded eerily familiar. It was just an indiscernible murmur at first, but as soon as she appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with three cups and a steaming kettle, they finally heard the words:

And as the night begins to die, they are the morning birds that sing against the sky.

She paused and smiled at them. “Tea?”

@its-interesting-van-kleep @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @thewritingbeforesunrise @lvnterninthenight @fleet-of-fiction @takenbythemadness @myownparadise96 @gvfstuddedmajesty @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @love-isnt-greed @klarxtr @kiszkas-canvas @lyndz2names @wetkleenex-gvf

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