#it's a repeat of 21 seasons over and over

[buscandoelparaiso]

how many helicopter incidents will happen in grey's anatomy every season before the show ends

[lovieku]

OLDER ⋆ 정국

you’ve tried, but you can’t help yourself from crushing on your best friend’s dad. hot, buff, tatted up and successful, mr. jeon is the starring actor in all of your wettest dreams. and as you wake up from one while sleeping over at his house after his daughter’s birthday party, you don’t expect all of them to suddenly come true. but they do.

pairing: dilf!jk x inexperienced!fem reader

genre: smut, dilf au, best friend’s father

warnings: lower case intended, porn with some lots of plot, age gap (21 n 38), dom!jk, sub!reader, voyeurism, messy blow job, fingering, oral (f receiving), bit of tit play (small chested reader yayyy), two (2) spanks, unprotected sex, cum eating, dirty talk, a bit of degradation, but also praise, pet names, some angst hehe, she falls first he falls harder??? but miscommunication sadly, forbidden love

ratings: 18+ / mdi

word count: 18.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this it doesnt make sense anymore to me but when i realized i was already 12k words in so 😃 here you are! its also so hard to write smut for me because i get carried away but then it becomes too overwhelming Help. anyways. im back hey!!!!

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in the backseat of his car, you stare forward at his hands gripping the steering wheel. there’s something hypnotic about the way his fingers curl around the leather. you bite your lips, an attempt to suppress the heat easily pooling low in your belly, your thighs rubbing together to conceal the effects of your lewd thoughts.

but amid them, one stands out. it’s the one that puts a shameless, selfish smile on your face, when you fixate on the image of the fourth finger of his left hand lacking a gold band.

it’s been a few months since that day— since areum, your best friend, showed up at your door in a frantic state, her finger jabbing the bell over and over in a panicked rhythm that jolted you from your bed.

you had nearly tripped down the stairs in your rush to swing the entrance open, and when you did, you were instantly tackled by your friend collapsing into your arms, her tears soaking through your shirt.

kicking the door shut, your hands busy embracing areum with panic in your eyes, you tried to steady both her and yourself. in between her uncontrollable sobs, shaking you to the core, she let her worries tumble out her mouth. her words came in a torrent, fast and breathless, barely giving you any time to fully process them as she buried her face in your neck, her body trembling.

it took a moment for the huge news to break through your thick, slowed down brain, but then it struck you, areum chanting it repeatedly as if she couldn’t grasp her mind around it: her parents were splitting up. divorce was imminent.

your own disbelief mirrored hers, but for very different reasons. you felt it in the way your shock turned into excitement; indecorous, depraved exhilaration, with your friend still hiding in your chest.

even as her sobs echoed in your ears, your mind latched onto one single thought, repeating like a mantra: he’s single. mr. jeon is single.

you felt terribly guilty when you sensed a smile that you couldn’t quite suppress stretching over your features, and the jittery sensation that came with it flowed your body and reached your hands, tightening them around areum harder to try and squeeze the shame out of yourself.

since that day, you’ve lost count of how many afternoons you’ve spent at areum’s house. you’ve been doing your best to be the friend she needs, to keep her company when what she fears the most is loneliness.

you’ve been a constant presence, helping her through the mountain of neglected work she left piling up, distracting her with baking sessions, or mindlessly binge watching entire seasons of friends on lazy evenings. anything to keep her mind off the pain.

but each visit is an opportunity. a fleeting chance to see him. to study how he moves around the house with that quiet intensity of his, a presence able to fill every room like a calm, steady current.

you’ve memorized many of his mannerisms. the way his eyes soften when he looks at areum; the way his mouth twitches into a faint smile when she tries to cheer him up; the way he nods at you in recognisment, silently letting you know he’s grateful for what you’re doing to help his daughter.

you wish you could help him too. in other ways. ways you know you shouldn’t be thinking about.

you can’t avoid it, though. you’ve witnessed him come back home from work countless times now, watched the tension etched across his features as he steps through the door, wished you could be the one to ease it off his shoulders. let your hand travel down his chest, reach his belt.

you feel disgusting unfailingly, but how can you not let your mind wander when he groans so deliciously every time he loosens the tie around his neck and kicks off his shoes?

you know exactly what his next move is, the imperceptible sigh melting the weariness off his face the moment he greets his daughter, a tender smile breaking through his exhaustion.

“any requests for dinner tonight, girls?” he always asks, his gaze jumping between areum and you on the living room couch, waiting for a response.

after your friend replies she likes whatever her daddy cooks, your stomach twists with nerves when his eyes meet yours to make sure there’s no complaints, and you quickly shake your head, biting your lips to keep from saying something foolish. is your dick on the menu? perhaps?

and the man can cook. exceptionally well. he moves around the kitchen with an effortless grace, every movement purposeful, every dish you have the honor of tasting better than the last.

while you help setting the table, you catch yourself staring more times than you should, mesmerized by the way he chops vegetables or stirs a pot, and you can’t help but wonder if there’s anything he’s not good at.

fuck. is there even a single flawed bone in this man’s body? with every day you spend at his house, you’re convinced there can’t be.

you want him to notice you, the same way you notice him. you tell yourself you’re just being a good friend to areum, but you know there’s more behind your constant visits.

there’s definitely more behind the way your skirts get shorter, your tops tighter, your bras purposefully not worn.

you feel crazed when you convince yourself his gaze falls upon your exposed thighs when he puts a plate in front of you at dinner, or when his eyes seem to be caught, only for a fleeting second, by your hardened nipples, evident through your poor excuses of shirts.

even when your interactions don’t go further than a brief exchange about college and areum or quiet, polite smiles in passing, the mere thought of being around him sends a rush through your veins, a dark and forbidden feeling tumbling in your stomach.

you’ve been seeking more and more of that after one particular night, your feet making their way down the stairs after areum had fallen asleep and you had rathered take your leave. you found him stretched on the couch, a drink in his hand.

his eyes hazily followed your movements, his voice low and slightly slurred, “are you leaving already?”

hearing him acknowledge you outside of the usual context of areum’s presence made you stop dead in your tracks, your reddened cheeks turning to face him, the dark color spreading all over your features when you fully took him in.

he was cladded in a comfortable attire, one you almost never saw on him, black sweatpants and a gray t-shirt falling sweetly on his shoulders, the short sleeves revealing the intricate ink designs running all over his right arm.

you shook yourself out of your trance suddenly, stuttering, “huh… yes. didn’t wanna be a bother.”

he chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine, “oh, you’re not. i wish all of my daughter’s friends were like you.”

his words hung in the air, with sincerity and something else you couldn’t quite decipher. you simply laughed along, a nervous, shaky sound escaping your lips, trying to mask the way your heart was racing with desperation for the gods to grace you with the depth of his tipsy voice all night.

to this day, you still think your horny and delusional prayer was heard when he nodded to the empty space beside him, lifting his glass slightly, “care for a drink? you’re 21 now, right?”

you only nodded shyly, more out of reflex than actual thought, slowly making your way to sit beside him just as he had instructed. the proximity sent a wave of heat through your body, your insides melting with the lava, the smell of his cologne and laundry detergent replacing the burned ground with a trail of flowers.

you were willing to do whatever he wanted from you at that moment, even if it meant downing the harsh liquor he poured into a glass for you. you took a sip, struggling not to grimace at the burn that followed. he smiled.

it was probably the alcohol loosening his tongue, but that night, for the first time, you saw a side of mr. jeon that he kept carefully hidden away, his vulnerability a strong characteristic of it.

his words tumbled out in a quiet, almost confessional tone. he spoke about his marriage, about how he had always felt somewhat trapped. still a teenager himself, he was only 17 when he found out his soon to be wife was pregnant with areum; 23 when they decided to marry.

his voice soft, but tinged with a sadness you hadn’t heard before, he admitted he never felt like he got to live his youth to the fullest, certainly blessed with his perfect baby, but also chained down by responsibilities and a tightening pressure he shouldn’t have had to deal with at such a young age.

then, with his eyes burning into your shiny and equally flaring ones, he paused just for a moment, and you felt he could see right through you, into the very core of your being. that he had you all figured out.

“when i look at you,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, his gaze traveling down your bare thighs, squished together on his couch, “i feel like i get a bit of that youth back. you’re so full of life, so fresh, so… full of love for my daughter. i’m glad she has you. glad we have you.”

as he found your orbs again, you noticed his had significantly darkened. you were sure your heart would have failed you if you had kept navigating in his gaze; instead, you looked down at your hands folded in your lap.

that night, he paid for your uber and insisted you sent him a text when you made it home. it was only read the morning after, and left unanswered.

even now, you’re convinced that if it weren’t for the whisky, those words would have stayed locked away in his mind, never seeing the light of day. not even if he were forced to speak them at gunpoint.

still, you’re grateful for the magical effects of alcohol and how they’ve brought you a tiny bit closer to give a look into his complicated world. it has awakened something in you, something stronger and far more dangerous than anything you’ve felt before.

you want to be there for him. help him through the doubts and regrets. be the youth he missed. take the weight off his shoulders. let him use you on that couch.

that feral, undomesticated monster inside you is a hundred times hungrier when, exiting the library building with areum by your side, babbling in your ear about today’s plans, you see his sleek mercedes parked outside.

he honks, getting his daughter’s attention too, who excitedly walks over the car when she spots it. the sound works as a pavlovian trigger for you, it has your mouth salivating and your senses alert, catching up with your friend and getting in the backseat.

it has been a few weeks since you last saw him, both you and areum too busy with assignments and outside activities, and his charming smile as he asks about the day cuts the breath from your lungs.

you’re silent as your friend fills him in, your ears struggling to pick up her speech as it only takes a few more seconds for your eyes to be caught by an interesting detail, one that has your world rocked: he finally took his wedding ring off.

the wedding ring that has stood as an unspoken boundary between you and your reckless fantasies is gone.

the realization hits hard, and suddenly, the reality around you narrows. your mind veers into dangerous territory, conjuring visions that feel too real.

you can almost feel his left hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you in, claiming you. and the images are so vivid, so consuming, that you don’t even notice when areum nudges your shoulder.

you don’t register her calling your name until the sound finally cuts through, pulling you back to the present with a jolt.

you blink a few times, trying to ground yourself, before turning to face her, areum’s voice light but her expression amusedly curious, “dad asked you a question.”

your whole face drops, panic clear in your features, and heat immediately rushes to your cheeks. you’ve been zoning out, lost in a daydream about the very man sitting in front of you, the one you literally just ignored, too busy thinking of him. the irony is almost too much.

your eyes find his in the rearview mirror, and the slight smirk on his lips only makes you look even dumber, stuttering all throughout your explanation, “sorry, mr. jeon. i— um. i was distracted.”

he simply chuckles, low and clearly not offended by your lapse in attention. his focus is back on the road, but as he speaks you keep yours on the words he’s directing at you this time, “it’s okay. i always tell you, just jeongguk is fine. i was asking about your day, you seem a little worn out.”

“oh. i—it went well! i guess i’m just tired,” the words feel clumsy as they leave your mouth, but you hope they sound convincing enough. you just can’t stop your eyes from falling on his left hand.

“well, you can’t be!” it’s areum’s excitement interrupting your furious imagination and bubbling over, “you need to help me set up for tonight. then, we’re gonna do our makeup, our hair, and dress up. i’m so excited!”

right. the reason why you could finally see mr. jeon after weeks and why you’re currently driving to his house is because it’s areum’s birthday.

the day feels significant in so many ways. you’re excited to witness your best friend turn a year older even after the hardships she’s been faced with. honored that you’re the one she’s chosen to help make this night perfect, ensure every detail is just how she’s pictured this moment to be like. and you can’t deny that you feel slightly nervous at the prospect of tonight, knowing there’s going to be faces you’re not that well acquainted with. you’d say you’re a bit awkward with new people, but you’ll try to bear through it for the sake of areum’s happiness.

but mostly, you feel guilty. because no matter how much you try to focus on your friend, the thought that truly makes your insides all mushy with fuzziness is the fact that you’re going to be in the proximity of her dad, again.

you crave for the smallest moments. the brief second where you’ll catch his gaze. the way his cologne will subtly linger in the hallways of his home. your eyes have a habit of drifting to his hands, those strong, veined, tattooed hands that move so smoothly whenever he speaks.

even now, in his car, as you glance at his side profile, there’s a ridiculous and almost cosmic sense of gratitude. like you’ve been chosen. blessed by whatever god to exist on this planet at the same time as him, to simply witness his presence.

it should be enough. it really should. but you’re a sinner. you’re greedy, wanting more. always more.

that buzzing sensation sticks with you throughout the entire day. the hours are packed with frantic energy, as you and areum run around in anxious over-organization, only for her own panic to rub off on you, making your movements quick and precise, as if every step has to be executed flawlessly.

and with all the chaos, he’s there in the back of your mind. mr. jeon. his presence is overwhelming, even when he’s not around.

he helps for a while, joining you in the backyard as you set up for the evening, his calm demeanor in stark contrast to the whirlwind around you. but then he disappears into his studio, retreating into his own space, leaving you to your tasks, and you don’t see him until hours later.

yet, you still feel him, as if he’s always near. his upstairs studio’s window faces the garden, and it’s enough to make you hyper-aware of your every gesture.

you straighten your back, slow your steps, each action more deliberate, because even though you don’t know if he’s really watching, it feels like he is.

getting your makeup, hair and outfit ready with areum does slightly ease that sensation off your chest. you love these moments with her. shared girlhood when you do each other’s eyeliner, the flutter of excitement as you zip up dresses, as you rummage through her closet, searching for the perfect piece to complete your look.

but even then, you’re brought back to the man working just a few rooms down the hallway. it’s astonishing how easily areum has access to everything she wants. the power her dad holds, the kind of wealth that makes life feel effortless in ways you can’t help but envy.

for her, money isn’t just something that buys things. it’s a silent force that shapes her world. she doesn’t have to worry about how much something costs or wonder if she’ll ever have enough. it’s as simple as snapping her fingers.

it must be nice to have that kind of life. to have someone like him in your corner, with wealth that seems to fall into place as easily as leaves from a tree. you don’t resent her for it, not really. but it makes you wonder what it would be like to live in a world where nothing is out of reach.

where everything, even the man who haunts your thoughts, could be yours with the right words or a simple gesture.

when you see him again, you’re standing in his kitchen. areum is still upstairs, fixing the tiniest details to her makeup, but you decided to come down early, just in case the first guests arrive, wanting to be helpful, wanting to keep yourself busy.

you’re momentarily lost in the view outside the window, the backyard garden bathed in the warm glow of fairy lights, their soft hues blending beautifully with the sage and pastel yellow decorations. the setup looks like something out of a dream, and it pulls a small, unbidden smile to your face.

the quiet peace is interrupted by the sound of a cupboard cracking open behind you, and you startle, your heart giving a quick jump.

you turn, following the noise, and there he is— jeongguk, bent over as he retrieves a bottle of red wine from the lower cupboard.

as he straightens up, bottle in hand, he finds your eyes already staring in his. he’s uncharacteristically deliberate as he still lets his gaze wander up and down your figure.

you’ve dressed carefully for tonight, choosing a flowy pink dress that flutters delicately against your thighs. the corset top hugs your waist in all the right ways, accentuating your shape, the kind of dress that makes you feel just a little more confident, a little more seen.

but now, under his gaze, you feel exposed, like he’s seeing more than just the fabric of your dress. his eyes linger longer than usual, and when his orbs dip to your chest, it’s almost as if he hesitates, like he’s trying to tear his eyes away but can’t.

you’re not even sure if the engrossed look on his face is real or just the product of your own twisted fantasies.

still, your body responds instinctively, your hand drifting up to play with your necklace, an unconscious gesture, while your other arm wraps around your waist, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together under the intensity of his stare.

when his eyes return to your wide ones, he gives a subtle nod towards your dress, and the smile that curves his lips is warm, but you can’t decipher that something else it wants to communicate.

his voice is smoother than you’ve ever heard it, as if literal honey, sweet and rich, is dripping out from his pillowy lips, “what a beauty. you look very pretty.”

you weren’t expecting that. it steals the breath from your lungs. it’s not just the words, or even the way he says them, velvet wrapping around your senses.

it’s how he seems to drink you in, his refined wine nothing in comparison. like you’re something to be savored just as carefully.

at this point, you’re seriously questioning if there was a stronger substance in the liquor you and areum shared earlier, even if you hadn’t taken big quantities, each small sip burning your throat and making you grimace at the sensation. but you figure it must have been enough to distort the current reality around you. or maybe, mr. jeon is the inebriated one.

you don't know how you find the voice to speak, or if you even do, the word escaping your lips in an uncoordinated mess, almost imperceptible, “thanks.”

he hums deeply in response, and it vibrates through the space between you. you let out a shaky exhale the moment his gaze finally shifts away. he resumes the task at hand, effortlessly opening the bottle of wine and turning his back to you as he reaches for a glass from the higher cabinet.

the muscles in his shoulders shift under his shirt, and for a split second, you’re unsure what to do. whether to stay, add anything else, flee the room entirely. make small conversation about areum’s birthday. comment on his look, too. oh, you have a lot to say about it.

you can tell he just wrapped up his work-related tasks for today from the way the first three buttons of his white shirt are opened, revealing his deep cleavage. his hair slightly tousled, but in a way that looks purposeful, perfectly intentional. his slacks hug him deliciously, rounding the curve of his ass and making you swallow hard.

your eyes can’t resist trailing over him, but they quickly move up to stare at the ceiling, feigning deep thought when he turns back to face you, and the counter.

surprisingly, he’s the one to break the silence first, again. the rich sound fills the air as he pours the red wine, the motion so precise, so fluid, it feels like witnessing an authentic art form.

he doesn’t bother looking up at you as he asks, seemingly casual, but slightly amused, “is there a boy you’re trying to impress tonight?”

the way he steers the conversation makes you less agitated, more confident. especially with the question thrown your way. teasing, almost belittling. you can see he’s not even trying to hide his pretty smirk, his focus on the wine flowing into the glass.

the question lingers, and you twirl your necklace around your fingers, smoothing down your dress with your other hand, your eyes flitting to his naked left hand, “mh… you could say so.”

of course, you’re not thinking about a boy. mr. jeon is no boy— he’s a man. the kind women dream about but know they’ll never find. the kind that belongs on the big screen or in the pages of a novel, with his effortless charm, his wealth, his looks that stop you in your tracks.

but he’s in front of you. and he’s tall, muscular, with hands that could crush or caress, tattooed in a way that makes your mouth dry up and water all at once.

it’s him you want to impress. you want to affect him the way he affects you, with effortless intensity. you want to pull him in, make him look at you the way he makes your world tilt on its axis with just a glance.

you’re hypnotized as you witness him in one of his rich man activities, performing a ritual with the wine glass. he brings it to his nose, his eyes fluttering shut as he takes in the aroma.

there’s something so practiced, so sensual in the way he handles the glass, the liquid dancing with delicate precision, as if even this simple act holds meaning. you can’t look away.

when he's satisfied, he finds you again, and your mouth is slightly open without you even realizing it. the moment he lifts the glass to his lips, you bite your own, almost harshly, your body reacting before your mind can catch up.

his smile is soft, but there’s something unsettling in its honesty, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

he mutters into the glass, his words resounding even stronger, “well, he’d be a fool not to fall for you.”

the implications of his comment make you swallow audibly, while he downs his first sip of the wine with fine ease, his adam’s apple bobbing with it. the whole time, his eyes never leave yours.

a thick silence stretches between you, and you wish you could break it but you don’t know how. your mind spins with the unspoken tension, but he seems entirely comfortable with it. the only sound filling the space is the quiet hum of the house.

he places the glass back on the counter, the soft clink of it slicing through the quiet. smoothly, he nudges it in your direction, his movements slow, as if testing the waters.

his voice is inviting, even more than usual, “you want some?”

”is that wine?” you instantly cringe at the way you sound strained.

he hums, a low sound of affirmation, watching you carefully.

you briefly glance at the glass, “i’ve never had it.”

”try it, then.”

with a slow twist of his fingers around the base, he slides the glass toward you. as it moves across the marble surface, you notice how he rotates it imperceptibly, but purposefully, so that the side where his lips touched the rim is now facing you.

the gesture is subtle, but the intent behind it is clear. at least to your deranged fantasies.

there’s a faint lip mark where his mouth had been, and the sight of it pulls you in, making your pulse pound in your ears. you look back up at him, finding his gaze still on you, his expression unreadable but heavy with implication.

without a word, you lift the glass, your fingers wrapping clumsily around the stem. you bring it to your lips, your mouth closing over the spot his lips had just pressed on.

the wine hits your tongue— bitter, sharp, and unfamiliar. you gulp hard, the liquid burning slightly as it slides down your throat. your face scrunches involuntarily, a clear sign of distaste. the richness of the flavor is too much for you, and you can’t help but grimace as the aftertaste lingers.

he watches, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. when you set the glass down, he effortlessly picks it back up and brushes his fingers across the rim.

his tone laced with amusement, he asks, “like it?”

you shake your head quickly, trying to hide your discomfort.

his chuckle is low, a soft rumble that makes your stomach flip. swirling the wine gently, he muses, “i heard there’s going to be alcohol tonight.”

you groan lightly, slumping your shoulders, “ugh, i know.”

the endearment rolls off his tongue like a secret meant just for you, his voice dipping into something softer, more intimate, “make sure you don’t drink too much, pretty face. i’ll be around.”

just like that, he turns and walks away, leaving you standing there, your thoughts spinning. pretty face?

what just happened? you’re not sure, but you’ve definitely stepped into something dangerous, something you can’t quite shake.

it’s hard to do so, even as the birthday party kicks off. the energy in the backyard shifts as more guests arrive. lively voices and unfamiliar faces begin to fill the space. areum’s laughter cuts through the hum, infectious and bright, drawing everyone in.

it all contrasts sharply with the weight still hanging in your chest from your earlier encounter with mr. jeon. your eyes keep darting toward the house, toward where you know he is, even though the logical part of you tells you to stop.

you stand at the entrance to the garden for a moment, taking in the scene. the subtle smell of flowers mixes with the faint scent of food, and your best friend bounces around the space, radiant in her dress. you’re genuinely happy for her, honored to share this moment.

and with your best efforts, you start engaging with others, smiling as you talk to some classmates and mutual friends, but it’s all surface-level. your mind is elsewhere.

it’s only later, as the evening progresses and the party settles into a rhythm, that you begin to relax. mainstream music plays in the background, and it inevitably involves everybody, as some classic party games become the main entertainment.

long after the cake and the gift-opening, the group gathers into a loose circle, throwing each other never have i ever questions.

you can’t help the way you all still feel like teenagers deep down, and how you get foolishly excited whenever the topic gets hot, and hints at anything that is sex related.

childish and immature, you know, but your ears still perk when the first probing question is tossed out.

“never have i ever been fingered.”

areum instantly shushes it, her eyes panickedly looking back to the house in hopes her dad isn’t around. laughter bubbles just as quickly, both because of the question and the girl’s reaction.

as expected, many reach for their drink, and you do too. the few present boys holler in a teasing manner, gaining some eye rolls.

sheepishly, the plastic cup touches your lips and you take the smallest sip from your punch. you can’t appear unbothered like your other peers, your cheeks subtly flaming as the embarrassing memories rush to your mind.

it’s silent, the small plea you telepathically send to anyone that might be listening. you pray for the topic to shift to something else, something that won’t inevitably put you at the center of the attention. something you can relate to.

but of course, god is not on your side. the questions only dig deeper, wandering in uncharted territory (at least for you), and you never reach for your glass again.

you can only sink further in your chair as everybody else around you seems even more lively with the way the game has turned, sharing their experiences, giggling as they listen, refilling their cups.

beside you, areum buzzes with energy as every question is just something for her to drink to, nothing that shocks her or that she isn’t familiar with.

never have i ever given head.

never have i ever been ate out.

never have i ever rode someone.

it’s undeniable, the way your skin heats up. with how you’ve been spending your whole day, fantasizing about the man who’s probably already asleep in his bedroom by now, your friends sharing their adventures only fuels your imagination.

you feel dirty when you put yourself in those scenarios, and for every daring moment they relive, the figure that appears beside you is always mr. jeon.

if only you turned your head, just for a moment, and glanced toward the kitchen window that faces the backyard.

you would have seen the same man dominating your thoughts, staring intently at the scene unfolding outside.

jeongguk is hidden in the shadows, the darkness of the house swallowing him whole, with every light turned off. maybe that’s why neither you nor areum notice him.

you don’t see him. you don’t feel him. you’re too caught up in the moment, too consumed by your own desires, unaware that the man that put you in that same condition is standing so close, watching.

jeongguk traces your every move with his intense gaze. he studies how your face dips down at every new question, how your smile seems just a little too tight, too forced when listening to the stories, the ones that make you shift uncomfortably in your chair.

if you don’t notice it, he does almost immediately— the way the attention in the circle shifts toward you.

the glances thrown your way become layered with a subtle curiosity, laced with something that looks like concern. but then, in the eyes of a few, jeongguk catches a faint trace of judgment.

it’s there, in the tilt of their heads, in the way they exchange fleeting looks with one another, as if they sense your unease and interpret it as something lesser. something they can pick apart.

his jaw tightens as he observes, that familiar protective instinct stirring within him. it makes his hands twitch by his side. he stays rooted in place.

eventually, the moment you clearly seem to dread the most (it doesn’t take a genius to know. it’s written on your face. or maybe, he got so used to studying you. it comes easy to him. knowing you,) follows.

it makes you want to vanish into the thin air caressing your legs, the way the question is put out with intent, an only pretending-to-be-careful tone wrapping it, all pairs of eyes instantly directed in your direction.

“never have i ever… had sex.”

you feel trapped, a momentary panic bubbling in your chest as you reach for your cup, hesitant. the rim hovers near your lips as you avoid every expectant glance, taking the smallest sip you can manage.

a murmur ripples through the circle. you can’t decipher it, too busy feeling the heat spread across your face. it’s only later that you realize no one else drank. the question had been crafted specifically for you, a silent test.

lara exhales, a teasing smile playing on her lips, “woah, i was getting worried for a second there, ___.”

you barely have time to react before areum steps in, her voice sharp in your defense, “what’s wrong with never having had sex, either way?”

“nothing, but—”

you’re not sure why you speak, and why you choose your speech that way specifically. you cut in before you even realize what you’re doing, driven by a sudden urge to explain yourself, an unshakable need to clarify forcing itself up your throat, “i only took a small sip, though.”

the group’s collective curiosity spikes, attention zeroed in on you like never before. you feel it— everyone waiting for you to continue, to reveal something you’ve kept to yourself until now. so, you give in, words tumbling out against your better judgment.

you clear your throat, straighten your back against your chair, your tone evasive, “i technically am not a virgin, but…”

the expectation drips from every person around you, their wide orbs trained on you, and for some reason you continue, gulping audibly before providing them with an explanation they don’t deserve, “when we— did it, he um… he got his tip in, but— god, this is embarrassing.”

“c’mon, tell us!”

you sigh, pressing forward with the humiliating truth, “he came, like, two seconds after. so, i felt nothing.”

the laughter that erupts is immediate, your friends covering their mouths in shock and amusement. you can only chuckle nervously, shrinking in your seat with a deep, liberating exhale.

yunjin pats your shoulder beside you, “that’s so sad, babe. we need to find you a real man.”

a strange sense of relief courses through you, the adrenaline from finally being acknowledged and validated by your friends swelling within, and you quickly learn how the buzz spreading to your body after taking part in sharing one of your experiences awakens you significantly.

you don’t know why, but you keep talking, oversharing, feeding into the newfound attention, “oh, i’ve been waiting for one in particular.”

you quickly become the center of attention for different reasons than the previous ones, now. their curiosity flares again, eyes wide with excitement as they beg for more details. who is it? tell us!

their voices overlap, but you dismiss them all with a playful shake of your head, giggles bubbling up as you try to evade their questions.

but just as quickly as the moment came, it fades when you glance to the side, and your smile drops.

jeongguk’s eyes meet yours immediately.

the intensity of the gaze knocks the breath from your lungs, the air thick between you as time seems to slow.

he’s been watching the entire time, arms crossed, the muscle in his jaw tensing as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. there’s a quiet frustration etched into his expression, a subtle irritation with your friends’ behavior. but it’s more than that. there’s something stirred by your confession.

your inexperience. your innocence. the untarnished parts of you he’s only beginning to realize he wants to corrupt.

the truth is, he’s known for a long time. longer than he’d like to admit, really. but he’s never let himself feel it fully until now.

it wasn’t something that hit him all at once. no, it crept up on him slowly, over the months. he’s always known you were beautiful, in that distant, untouchable way. you’re his daughter’s best friend, after all.

but he couldn’t help his eyes from lingering on you a little too long when you’d come over to hang out with areum, how his heartbeat would quicken up when he’d let himself be coddled by the warmth of your helping actions, the way his muscles would tense when he’d catch sight of you lounging by the pool.

he’d been good at keeping it under bay. but you weren’t subtle, not even the slightest. your fleeting glances, your breath hitching whenever he was near, your clothes putting you on display for him. it all made it harder.

even more when you’ve been nothing but the proof that angels exist, and at some point he convinced himself you were sent on earth to fill the void he felt his whole life, with your unconditional care towards his daughter and your pupils widening whenever they’d land on his.

and earlier, in the kitchen. he’s used to being in control, but the way you responded to his presence, to the compliment he gave you, had moved something deep inside him.

maybe it was seeing you tonight, all grown up and standing there in that dress, hugging your figure deliciously. how you carried yourself, confident yet unsure, mature yet untouched.

hearing you talk about your inexperience, about that brief, awkward encounter with a boy who clearly didn’t know what he was doing. watching you squirm under your friends’ teasing questions, witnessing how you tried to explain yourself.

it’s like it all clicks into place for him. and for the first time, he’s letting himself acknowledge it.

jeongguk wants you.

he knows it’s wrong. so wrong. he’s never felt this way about someone so much younger than him, and yet, the need to be the first one to truly touch you, to show you what it means to be wanted by a real man, makes his blood run hot.

it’s dangerous, the way these thoughts take hold of him now. maybe it’s the way you’ve changed lately, stepping into womanhood but still holding onto that wide-eyed innocence. or maybe it’s him. maybe he’s the one who’s changed, his resistance crumbling little by little.

he feels disgusting. selfish, his stomach swirling with nerves. dirty, his fingers twitching and begging to free his insides from such feelings.

but there’s simply no ignoring it anymore, no pretending like you’re just areum’s friend. that boundary he set in his mind is starting to blur. he’s old enough to know better, but old enough to know exactly what he wants.

your eyes widen with terror, meeting jeongguk’s own hardened gaze. he wants to tell you, wants you to know, but the way your startled expression lingers in his narrowed eyes makes him hesitate. it fills him with uncertainty, an unfamiliar feeling, one he rarely contends with.

the moment is abruptly interrupted when one of areum’s friends, an older guy she’s met through her dad’s colleague, crashes into you from behind, draping his weight over your shoulders.

you struggle not to stumble forward, holding yourself on the arms of your chair while you look to the side, and immediately try to pull away when you realize the unwanted proximity.

but it’s hard, you’re weaker than the boy’s embrace, holding you still and wiggling his eyebrows, his tone playful as he ruffles your hair, “is it me?”

the people around you laugh, the sound light and carefree, but the way your body stiffens, the clear discomfort in your eyes— jeongguk notices.

and he also notices (reluctantly) the ugly feeling making space in his stomach the more that guy’s face moves closer to yours. his jaw twitches, the muscle at his temple ticking.

he can’t just stand there doing nothing anymore.

the sudden sound of the door to the garden opening catches everyone’s attention, and your gaze flies over in that direction.

jeongguk steps out, his presence commanding, and your expression drops. areum’s eyes grow wide, instantly sensing something wrong in the way her father is looking at the scene. his eyes are too dark, too sharp, and if no one else detects it, you and his daughter surely do.

still, the taller boy behind you moves up again, taking a step back from your seat, and jeongguk seems to reserve him a look you find hard to decipher. it’s firm, heavy with a warning.

“areum,” he calls, his voice calm but edged, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

she’s quick to move toward him, and you can’t help but try to listen in on what he’s saying to her.

but the voices of your friends rise again, loud and boisterous, filling the space with chatter, drowning out any chance you had of overhearing.

you sigh, and when you return to your slumped position on your chair, you can’t ignore how all the girls around you are sneaking glances at him, their giggles piercing through the air as they whisper among themselves.

jeongguk has always had a certain effect on people, and tonight is no different. you hear some of their comments, but they don’t fully register in your mind.

all you can focus on is the bitter feeling rising in your chest.

you bite the inside of your cheek, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. it sickens you, the way you have to share the image of him with everyone else.

you wish only your eyes had been granted the gift of looking at him, of admiring the way his shirt stretches across his chest or how his hair falls perfectly, even when tousled.

but instead, he’s a spectacle for everyone to enjoy, and you hate it.

when areum returns, she’s slightly slumped over, her energy deflated. behind her, mr. jeon stands with his arms crossed, a small, condescending smile tugging at his lips.

areum’s voice is low as she announces, “the party’s over, guys.”

the subtle groans of disappointment echo around you as your friends try to protest, giving up when met with no possible negotiation. they then gather their things, saying their goodbyes and slowly trickling out, only after trying to argue about it.

once the last guest has left, it’s just the three of you, left to clean up the remnants of the night in the dimly lit garden.

jeongguk barely looks at you. his focus is elsewhere. on the mess, on areum, on anything but you.

as you bend down to gather some empty cups, you steal a look at him again. he’s helping clean up too, though his motions are deliberate and slow.

it’s silent for a while as each one of you picks up their own task. teamwork seems to be efficient, every area of the backyard slowly regaining its original aspect.

until areum yawns dramatically, stretching her arms above her head as she makes her way over to you and her father. she mumbles, blinking heavily. "’m so sleepy."

jeongguk raises an eyebrow, glancing at the still-messy garden, some leftover cups and plates scattered across the tables, and the chairs strewn about from the night's festivities.

he teases lightly, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement. "oh, really? you’re just gonna leave all this mess behind?"

for a moment, the weight of his words hangs in the air. you and areum both freeze, glancing at each other with wide eyes, unsure if he’s serious. the pause is brief, but it’s enough for tension to rise in your chest.

but then, jeongguk’s lips curl into a soft, knowing smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“just kidding,” he chuckles, his tone warm now, the joke clear. “go sleep, c’mon. it’s past your bedtime.”

areum sighs with exaggerated relief, rolling her eyes before stepping forward to wrap her arms around her dad in a loose hug. she mumbles into his chest, “i’m not a kid anymore, dad. i don’t have a bedtime.”

he chuckles with a lightness that was foreign to you until that moment, and he leans down, pressing his lips gently to the top of her head, his voice low and tender as he whispers, “whatever you say. happy birthday, reumie.”

it’s such a simple moment, nothing grand or elaborate, but the intimacy of it, the quiet affection between father and daughter, makes your heart clench.

you watch them with stars in your eyes, completely captivated by this rare portrayal of vulnerability from mr. jeon. he’s always been the composed, collected man in the background of areum’s life, but here, he’s just a father, brimming with love for his daughter.

you almost feel like an intruder witnessing such a private exchange, but you can’t pull your eyes away. every detail — his hand softly resting on her back, the delicate warmth in his eyes, the way his voice softened — it all paints a picture of a side of him you’ve rarely seen.

you want to be part of it, too. want to bask in his love, the one he keeps hidden but the same one that shapes him whole. that fills him from head to toe, never spilling, always quiet. makes him the brave man you only know through your best friend’s admiring eyes, never from his words.

he doesn’t like talking about himself, but you’d kill to know what truly goes through his mind, even for just a second. you’d gladly find a house in his brain, and you’d pay rent and everything.

when areum finally pulls away and turns to you, her expression sleepy but content, she asks, “you coming with me?”

you hesitate, glancing at the mess still surrounding you. you speak with a small, reassuring smile, only looking at your friend, “i’ll be there in a minute. i wanna help clean up first.”

she just shrugs, already too tired to argue, and heads inside. jeongguk’s eyes follow her briefly before flicking back to you.

his lips part as if he wants to say something. maybe to insist that you shouldn’t stay, or that you should go inside too. but the words never come. instead, he watches you silently for a second longer, before turning his attention back to the garden.

now, it’s just the two of you.

the quiet between you isn’t uncomfortable, but it’s heavy. the subtle hum of the night seems louder now without the chatter of party guests, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze fills the air as you move around the small round tables, readjusting the chairs.

you’re trying to focus on the task at hand, but your mind keeps drifting back to mr. jeon. to the protective edge in his tone earlier, to the way he’s been looking at you tonight.

but then, in your distraction, you clumsily trip over your own feet, your breath catching as you stumble forward.

before you can fall, though, a strong hand grips your arm, steadying you instantly.

“oops. careful, little one,” it’s jeongguk’s deep voice murmuring close to your ear, the warmth of his touch grounding you.

your face flushes immediately, the heat spreading across your cheeks and down your neck.

“sorry,” you whisper, glancing up at him through your lashes, feeling ridiculously small under his intense gaze.

“it’s okay,” he instantly replies, his tone so gentle it almost makes your heart falter.

silence falls again, but this time, it’s thicker, and maybe even uncomfortable. you both remain still for a moment, his hand loosely gripping your arm, and you feel yourself burn where his fingers rest. his thumb brushes your skin lightly, a subtle, almost imperceptible gesture, but it’s enough to make you gulp audibly.

finally, he releases you, stepping back slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, "thanks for making my daughter happy today. i really appreciate that. i appreciate you."

the words catch you off guard, your breath hitching at the sincerity in his voice, deeper, almost too revealing.

your mind races, trying to find the right words to respond, but all you can manage is a stutter, “oh. i—”

his voice is firmer when he gently cuts you off, “go sleep now. i’ll finish here.”

you want to protest, but the way he’s looking at you — his dark eyes locking onto yours, holding you in place even with his hand now by his side — makes it impossible.

there’s something about the way he’s speaking, like he’s being careful with his words, almost spelling them out, making sure you’re paying attention to each one, “if you need anything, you know where to find me. yeah?”

you swallow hard, nodding slowly. his gaze is unwavering, and it feels like he’s saying something more than just the words themselves, something you can’t quite grasp yet. you stammer, “right. yes. i—i’ll… goodnight.”

“goodnight.”

it’s not exactly a good night for you. in a sense, maybe it is. you always welcome dreams like these when they decide to visit. but right now, it feels more than a little awkward.

worst timing ever. you’re lying next to areum, the daughter of the very man who’s making you wet with just a few flashes of imagery dancing behind your closed eyelids.

at first, it’s soft, almost serene. you see a beach, engulfed in warm, blurry tones that blend together like watercolors left to bleed in the sun. the sea is flat, unmoving, and glimmers like pearls under the flaming light.

a weight presses down on your exposed thigh. the sensation feels so vivid that it pulls you deeper into the dream, and as you glance down, you instantly recognize the large, familiar hand resting there.

jeongguk’s hand. his left one. on the fourth finger, a gold ring.

when you lift your head, his face greets you with a wide, unusual smile. his hair is wet, slicked back as if he’s just come out of the water, droplets clinging to the tips.

but the softness of the look he gives you is replaced by something more dangerous, more daring. he bites his lip, and you see it.

a double piercing sits on the side of his mouth, the silver studs gleaming as he plays with them using the tip of his tongue. your breath catches in your throat. you don’t just see it there.

on his eyebrow, a matching piercing catches the sunlight, giving him a rebellious edge.

you remember them from old pictures areum showed you once. jeongguk, in his younger days, rougher, wilder, and undeniably charming.

it must have left a deep impression on you because your subconscious has dug it up now, weaving it into this dream. deep in your slumber, you unconsciously whine.

his hand kneads the soft skin of your leg, and his grin stretches wider, eyes crinkling into familiar crescents, but with an edge you’ve never seen on him before.

"you wanna take another bath?" his voice is husky in your ear, filled with suggestion. he’s leaning in now, closer, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your skin.

your throat feels dry, your pulse quickens, and before you can say anything, his hand slides higher, fingers grazing the hem of your swimsuit. his breath fans over your face, and suddenly, the sea behind you isn’t the only thing that feels like it's burning.

"come on. just you and me."

before you can even think to answer, your surroundings shift. the beach, once hazy and peaceful, morphs into something more private.

you’re no longer in the open air, but sitting at the border of his pool, both your feet grazing the warm water.

jeongguk’s hand is still playing with the laces of your bikini, and he’s slow and teasing as he pulls one of them. when he fully undoes it, you’re bare in front of him.

but he doesn’t look down just yet. he keeps staring in your eyes, his smile gone now, replaced with something more serious, more focused.

jeongguk leans closer to your ear, his lips brushing your lobe, and it feels way too real when he whispers, “let me make you feel good.”

it’s with a jolt that you wake up, the low sound still echoing in the depths of your brain, and you struggle to take in your surroundings at first.

on your right, areum is sleeping soundly, even snoring softly. you'll tease her about it in the morning.

but if the thought initially puts a smile on your face, it morphs into a frown when you register the reason why you’re now awake, and you brim with guilt.

you have to get away from your best friend. need to get away from your brain, if possible. wash it all with a glass of cold water.

you make sure not to cause too much noise as you slowly sit up, the covers falling from your figure and the air welcoming you with goosebumps on your skin.

your naked feet tentatively touch the ground and you force yourself to stand on them, padding on the floor and exiting the room, gently closing the door behind your shoulders.

at first, you only hear it. faint, muffled noises; fussing; heavy panting; groans.

you blink rapidly, convinced your hazy brain is still cozily wrapped around the blankets, finding it hard to let go of the images that had flashed behind your eyelids and adapt to the new state of consciousness.

but as you make your way to the stairs, the sounds get closer, and more vivid. it’s not just your mind playing evil games, anymore.

it’s shushed moans, and eager whines. and they seem awfully close to how you’d always imagined mr. jeon would sound like. in that situation.

having lost control over your own brain a long time ago, it feels like you’re now being ordered around by it, no freedom of choice whatsoever.

your feet move on their own, following the source of that delicious music, and you swear your eyes get teary with joy when you find that the door was left ajar.

you feel delirious. the small gap is more than enough to give you a view into what you never thought you’d have the honor of witnessing: the man of all your desires has his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, squeezing it, then dragging it up and down in slow movements that you just know are torturing him, from the way he harshly bites his lower lip, to the way his furrowed eyebrows almost meet at the bridge of his nose, eyes focused on his doings.

nonetheless, he loves it. his mouth opens every time he brushes the tip of his thick dick with his palm, releasing small whines, followed by quiet moans when he uses his other hand to play with his balls.

he cusses repeatedly, then grips his base and halts his movements. only to go over the punishing pattern again, bringing himself closer to the edge then retraining when he feels like stepping over it.

the sight of mr. jeon edging himself makes your knees weak. it takes over you physically, you genuinely have to find support in the wall beside you.

you need to be there with him. you need it to be your hand; need him to guide it just the way he likes it; need him to teach you how to please him. his groans make your head spin, and you need to get closer.

you’re not thinking when you instinctively take a step towards the slightly open door, but when you do, the floor cracks under you.

you’re paralysed. in the silence of the house, wrapped in night time, the otherwise small sound is amplified, and he stops his hand.

with the little power you still possess over your actions, you move your back to the wall beside the door. your breaths are ragged, too overwhelmed with the mixture of fear and lust, and you think of running away to hide but a huge weight is chaining you down, and you find yourself unable to move.

you can only register fussing from the other side, the soft thump of his feet on the floor and the door opening alarmingly. when he looks to the side, he’s met with his expression mirrored on your small face, your eyes wide but willing themselves to keep looking in his.

if you were to look down, you’re not sure you could keep yourself composed, knowing his cock is hard and unattended in his pajama pants.

“___? what are you doing up?” his voice quickly takes on the calm that characterizes him so well, instilling some of it in your startled figure.

still, you stutter all throughout your answer, making it clear what you just spied into with the way your face changes color, “i— water. i wanted— there’s no, huh, water in the fridge.”

mr. jeon does a weak job at hiding the confused amusement on his features. nonetheless, he nods, a small grin on his lips while he says nothing, just walks to the stairs and makes his way down them. you follow hastily, careful not to trip.

there’s plenty of water in the fridge, but he doesn’t question it. he takes out a bottle and pours a glass for you, sliding it over the counter.

you take the smallest sip, afraid you might choke with the way he stands facing you, staring so intensely into your orbs.

when you put the still full glass down, he smirks. you see his hands gripping the edge of the table in front of him, “nightmare?”

the depth of his voice translates into heat pooling right in your lower stomach and staining your shorts. you’re a mess just from the blurred sight of him. you shake your head, “more like… a weird dream.”

he smiles fondly, having to break the prolonged eye contact and look elsewhere, his grip getting tighter and his patience wearing thin.

he won’t be able to control himself much longer if he doesn’t get out of this kitchen, especially with the effects of your effortless charm flooding down his pleading dick.

you’re in front of him, eyes full with a feeling that scares him, only the counter dividing your bodies, and you’re wearing the tiniest satin shorts paired with a white tank top that leaves little to the imagination, the cut dangerously low and your nipples evident through the material.

he’s a gone man.

his eyes no longer anchoring you, your gaze automatically travels to where you shouldn’t be looking, for your own sanity. but the outline of his cock is so delicious, it makes your mouth water with want.

you’re not sure if it’s your own eyes deceiving you, but you swear you can see it throb, and at that moment you realize he’s not wearing any underwear. just thin, loose pants covering his length.

you gulp, clenching around nothing. you feel him sigh, and the sound makes your head spin with greater force.

he looks back at you, but you’re too enthralled by your current view, the effects of it almost completely shutting out your hearing and your rational thinking, as you round the counter and leave his words hung in the air, “i’m sorry for… what you probably saw. should’ve closed the door.”

apology silently dismissed, or simply ignored (why would he even apologize for blessing you with such an unforgettable sight?) you now stand next to him. as he turns to you, you’re faced with his chest, and you have to bend your head upwards to meet his curious eyes.

your body has long forgotten to trust the thin amount of rationality that could still be found in your brain, and that’s how you find yourself leading your hand to cup his cock through his pajamas.

his face is stoic, staring at you intensely. he doesn’t startle, doesn’t gasp, doesn’t move away. but you feel him. if the contact does something to him, he doesn’t show it. he keeps looking down at you, in your eyes.

then, he speaks, his voice steady, “what are you doing.”

you’re suddenly aware of your actions, and you fall victim to them, feeling small because of his stern, composed gaze while you melt under it.

your voice is frail, barely a whisper, too weak to sound as convinced as you truly are, and your words come out slurred, “wanna help you.”

he doesn’t break, doesn’t seem affected by your desperation, but his pupils are blown out, knuckles white from grasping the counter, “you already did enough.”

your hand is still on his dick, unmoving. no one dares break the moment, though. if anything, being this close to him, feeling him while you both search for something in each other’s eyes, is only spurring you further.

you get on your tip toes, your perky nipples brushing against his chest, your voice low while you tilt your head to the side, “what were you thinking of? i’ll be that for you.”

immediately, his hand flies over yours. he doesn’t move it, just holds it still. the look in his eyes is a lot darker, his eyelids droopy, his jaw clenched, “stop this.”

the electrifying spark that buzzes you the moment you feel his skin travels from your hand to your whole body, and it significantly weakens you.

you don’t know if you fall to your knees because they genuinely give up on you, but it’s how you find yourself facing his hardness, your eyes never leaving his glossy ones, highlighted by the dim light shining through the curtains of his kitchen.

“___. get up.” there’s a tremor in his voice, and the hand that was blocking yours now falls by his side, twitching.

you see it in his eyes. sense it in the tension of his muscles. he’s holding back. but you don’t want him to resist you.

“please,” your beg is muffled and quiet, your nose brushing against his length and following a torturous path that makes him hiss.

he groans deliriously, willing himself to tear his orbs off your big, pleading ones staring up at him, but he doesn’t do anything to move you away.

“fuck,” the chuckle that follows is feverish, his body on fire with the forbidden, but so wanted touch, “don’t make me have to reject you, doll.”

“you don’t have to,” you’re unexpectedly quick in your answers, your conscience coming back to you but letting it be taken over by a dark feeling, the one that makes you kiss his tip through the thin material, and lick along his length, finding his eyes, “i want you.”

jeongguk inhales, his lower lip bleeding with the harsh biting, and he swears his knees are shaking with the effort of keeping even the slightest, thinnest thread of sanity intact.

he wishes he could stop you. knows he should. but he can’t. he can only watch as your slim fingers hook under the hem of his light pants and lead them to pool down his ankles.

the way his cock springs free and brushes your smooth, pure face makes him huff out a deep exhale, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed as he takes in your eyes widening at the sight of his length.

mr. jeon is long. and thick. he’s veiny, and perfectly shaved. it looks almost unrealistic, but he’s in front of you in all his glory and he throbs. leaks pretty precum to coat his angry tip.

he doesn’t know how he manages to speak, especially when you look up at him through your droopy eyelids, pupils blown and tongue ready to take him.

his voice is rough, as if it wants to stay stuck in his throat, but he forces one last warning out, “___. don’t do it.”

any and all kinds of inhibitions are nonexistent the moment you attempt a kitten lip at his wet tip, and the simple action makes his head fall backwards, a way too loud growl escaping him.

his breaths are heavy, broad chest moving with them as he looks down at you again, too tempted to look elsewhere.

he curses as soon as he does, his lust-filled orbs swimming in your equally craving ones, and he believes this view is crafted by the hands of a god, not slightly comparable to anything his mind came up with back in his room, not too long ago.

the reason why he’s gotten rock hard under his covers, it’s you. the yearning he couldn’t suppress anymore, the hunger making him salivate, the need to be consumed by your love, the desire to be touched by you, to be cured by your innocence, only to taint it.

he’s thirsty, wants to drink all of you in. wants to finally have you, taste you, feel you. he’s tired of fighting it.

jeongguk doesn’t know how to decipher his heart doing literal flips in his chest when you fully take his cock in your mouth, and he lets out a sound he’s never heard his own self ever produce.

it’s high-pitched, whiny, delirious, and it leads himself to subtly push himself forward, to bury his length in your throat.

you inevitably choke at the new sensation, your eyes fluttering shut to keep the tears welling up under your eyelids from spilling out, but you go relentlessly, just as hungry.

you tentatively bob your head up and down his length, messily taking him as best as you could, probably accidentally scraping him with your teeth a few times, and you try to make up for it with your swirling tongue, slurping thirstily.

he almost coos at your eagerness, and as badly as he wants to bask in the sensation, having to keep himself from pounding into your mouth, he holds your silky hair in a ponytail and gently pushes you away.

when you find him again, your eyes are glossy and your eyebrows drawn up with worry.

you don’t want this moment to end. you don’t want your insecurities to be proven right, don’t want him to ward you off, to still think of you as nothing more than a childish girl with an evident crush. you’re on your knees for him to finally see you.

jeongguk instantly reads your thoughts.

his voice is quick to sooth you, a sweet smile painting his face with an expression you rarely see on him. it’s soft, just like his voice, “come up here, angel.”

you want to listen to him, want to follow his every order. but you’re not sure how to when he’s regarding you with a care you’d never thought would be directed at you, one that empties you of any strength. when the pet name rolling off his tongue that easily seems so natural, you want to think it’s all he’s ever seen you as.

with a delicate tug at your hair, he leads you on your feet again. but you’re weak, your chin falling on his chest as you look at him through your lashes like he’s hung every single star in the sky.

his hand leaves your locks only to cup your face, promptly helping you stand straight to study your features.

if he didn’t know better, he’d say you’re high off the strongest substance you could find. your pupils cover your orbs in a dark, wide circle, a lazy smile on your pink lips as you let yourself be handled by him, no control over your body, almost falling over his bigger one again before he steadies you by your hips.

he lets out an amused chuckle at the state you’re in because of him, and he hopes you know just how much you’re affecting him, too. he wants to swallow you, pill after pill, overdose on you.

when he’s sure you don’t need his help keeping you still anymore, leading your palms to rest on his wide shoulders, he takes your face in his big hands and forces you to swim in the intensity of his gaze.

his words are spoken slowly, a low whisper fanning over your lips, “if i kiss you now, i won’t be able to control myself anymore.”

your eyes jump relentlessly between his own orbs and his mouth, the latter winning the battle when you fixate on it, and speak just as weakly, “please, kiss me.”

you barely manage to get the words out before jeongguk is all over you. he devours you, pushing your lips open and finding your tongue, playing with it in a mess of slick and heavy breaths.

his fingers travel through every angle of your body they can find, pulling your face impossibly closer by your nape, leaving goosebumps along your bare arms wrapping around his neck, falling down your torso and squeezing harshly as they rest by your sides.

your moan is inevitable when his palms reach down the curve of your ass and shove you against him. you feel his hardness meet the softness of your lower belly, his wet tip poking at it and making him hiss on your lips.

he does his best to swallow all your sounds, your muffled whines and whimpers his favorite meal as of now. it’s a wince of slight pain that you let out as he positions you in between his body and the counter, the border pressing on your lower back.

when he moves from your kiss, even with your lungs being unable to breathe anymore and begging for a break, your head follows his movements to try and bring him back on you again.

the chuckle he lets out is almost belittling, the right side of your face being completely engulfed by his palm to put distance between your mouths, his other hand keeping you still by your waist, and his own hips push against you.

you quickly glance down to where your bodies meet, and you whimper when you take in the way his cock is just above your core, his balls brushing against your clit. you only need to lift yourself a little forward to fully feel him.

but it’s like he instantly knows what’s making your head spin, his grip tighter but still mindful not to hurt you. the sudden squeeze has your eyes finding his, feeling ridiculously smaller under the weight of his heavy gaze.

he makes sure you keep your whole focus on him, and as much as registering the way your orbs are glossy with anticipation and desire is making him almost regret his next words, he lets them out, steady but soft, in your face.

“you had your fun, baby. now, you’re going to listen to me. hm?”

this time, your reaction comes promptly following his request. you’re hanging from his lips, tracing their every move and sound, immediately nodding at the order.

but it’s not enough, and jeongguk ensures to sound a bit firmer, ”use your words.”

”yes, mr. jeon.”

the way your response rolls off your tongue with seemingly no hesitation, your pupils still on his, the words you choose to say, make him let out an amused chuckle.

your eyes widen, and he drinks in your state, cheeks flushed and lower lip trembling. you need to bite it in order for it to stop shaking when he narrows his eyes, his left palm rising from your hip and finding its way under your top, his remark making you startle, ”you’re such a bad girl. aren’t you?”

jeongguk makes up for the way more tears seem to well along your bottom lashes by cupping your small breast in his larger hand, swirling his thumb around your nipple, and you need to fight against the loud moan traveling its way up your throat, the chocked sound getting stuck as your mouth hangs open, your eyebrows furrowed.

but it only takes some more of his degrading tone for you to let out an unashamedly loud noise, his fingertips pinching your nipple, ”calling me that only because it gets you off. doesn’t it? you’re not so innocent after all, princess.”

he quickly swallows your sounds with his lips on yours, and both of you can’t help but hum lowly at the contact. jeongguk thinks he could keep kissing you for hours on end. but he badly wants to feel every other inch of your body, too.

unexpectedly, the kiss gets broken when he turns your body around with ease, your back now pressing against his front, and you steady your shaking figure by planting your hands on the counter.

the access to your ear comes effortlessly, he just needs to bend his head down to cover your height difference and make sure his whispered words meet you as close as possible, “i’ll give you what you want. but you need to be quiet and good for me, understood?”

you’re not sure if you should use your voice or stay silent, but your body doesn’t give you the chance to ponder over it before letting out a whiny yes. you’re not exactly being quiet, but can he blame you?

the man you’d get to talk to for more than five minutes only in your dreams is now promising you he’s going to give you what you want. and his cock is perfectly nestled in between your ass cheeks. you’re positive you’ll have to throw your shorts right in the bin after he’s done with you.

though, the scoff resounding in your ear makes you regret not even trying to lower your volume. you really want to be good for him. don’t want to disappoint him.

that’s why when he taps two fingers under your chin, without him having to express it for you, you part your lips open, tongue out. from the corner of your eye, you see the side of his face scrunched with a long dimple before he shoves the digits inside your wet mouth.

you instantly wrap yourself around his thick fingers, coating them in your warm slick, and you can tell it’s affecting him with the way the hold on your hip tightens, and he shifts between your thighs.

with your tongue swirling around the two digits, your eyes search for his face. looking up at him through your lashes, you clench around nothing when you take in the effortless way he towers over you, his body engulfing your whole smaller figure.

the sinful eye contact leads him to spur you on further, his voice rough with desire, “that’s right. suck on them like you would my cock.”

you hum deeply at the encouragement, fluttering your eyelids shut as you energetically bob up and down along his fingers. you think you can still feel the taste of his precum lingering on your tongue, and you whine, wishing you could have him again.

the noise gets cut from your throat when he forces his digits out, the slicky sound lustful, and it makes him groan lowly.

with his other hand, he delicately pushes your head forward to bend you over the marble counter, the same one where hours ago he passed you his glass of wine to take a sip from.

the surface is cold against your cheek and he’s out of your vision as he stands straight. not being able to see what he’s doing, the expression on his face as you lay folded for him, makes the anticipation flood even stronger in your veins.

you feel him pull your shorts down enough to reveal yourself to him, hear him hiss as he’s enthralled by the way your pussy glistens, all for his eyes to admire.

the curse that follows is instant, “fuck. no panties?”

you’re embarrassed for your straightforward bareness, whimpering at his surprise with your fist tightening and your nails imprinting crescents in your palms, but you’re also so impatient to feel his touch.

tentatively, you wiggle for him, hoping to brush against his length, but it’s to no effort as he instantly stills your movements with a hand on your lower back.

he scoffs incredulously, feeling your bare ass against his palm, “it’s like you knew this would happen. you dirty, naughty girl. always giving me those eyes.”

it’s light, the spank that meets the side of your butt, but you gasp nonetheless. you need to bite your lower lip harshly in order to suppress the loud moan from escaping your throat, and you’re sure it bleeds when he softly strokes the spot he hit.

the hand soothing you now travels to your front, torturously putting pressure on your sensitive stomach and following a slow pattern, only to reach your wet core.

he finally touches you where you’ve been needing him the most, and you both groan when he uses his already soaked pointer and ring finger to spread your lips, his middle one tracing your slit.

you inhale deeply as he repeats the motion, and when you exhale you can’t help small whines from leaving you, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

you feel like passing out when his body weight presses on you again, his mouth directly on your lobe, the intention in his voice dripping on your skin, “you think i wouldn’t notice? you know how hard my cock gets everytime i see you in these tiny clothes of yours, huh? you’re quite literally the death of me, doll.”

then, it’s like all your senses come back to you the moment he pushes his digit in, and he immediately reaches around you to put his other hand over your mouth the second he sees it opening, your eyes rolling up.

you scream in his palm, the sound muffled with his fingers tightening under your jaw, his body still leaning on yours.

he whispers sweet nothings in your ear and stills his middle finger inside you, getting you used to his presence, “shh, princess. good baby, you’re doing perfect.”

the contrast to his earlier shaming tone only makes you whine more, your eyes squeezing closed to try and keep the noises in. you’re sure you bite his palm when he starts moving inside you, the finger curling tentatively and soon being joined by another one.

you shake your head weakly, feeling yourself reach delirium, and you manage to stammer out, “can’t— can’t do this.”

“you can baby, c’mon. you wanna be a good girl f’me, don’t you?” his tone is still low, warm breath fanning over your nape, and you melt under the sudden change in attitude.

you nod, not because you believe you can actually get through this without your heart failing and the whole neighborhood hearing you in the process, but because you do want to be his good girl.

“say it.”

“wanna be good— your good girl.”

he hums, “that’s right. i need to stretch you out if you want to take my cock.”

you choke in his wrap, now looser around your face, surprised at his words, and you clench hard at the mention of his cock inside you.

you throw your head backwards in search for more of his proximity, and you mumble nonsense, your brain completely melted, “yes! want your dick.”

“i know you do, little one,” with your head nestled between the crook of his neck, his hand now falls to your throat, and he holds you gently by it while his fingers pick up a faster pace.

he’s ruthless as he moves them inside you, effortlessly finding your sweet spot with a curl of his long, tattooed digits, and you whimper at the foreign sensation, unable to moan like you really want to.

you feel like screaming the more he keeps going, the only possible reaction to what is happening to you. one moment ago you were dreaming of this, and now it’s your reality.

mr. jeon is fingering you and calling you his good girl. his large figure is behind your smaller one bent over the counter, his palm around your throat, his hard length pressing against your ass.

the moment he uses his thumb to flick at your clit, you arch your back into him and you hear him fight to suppress a surprised moan.

“shit. you’re so impatient, sugar. dripping around my fingers. wanna taste your sweet juice, can i?” it’s a rhetorical question, hushed slurredly in your ear, because after he lets it out his fingers leave your hole, and find a new home on his warm tongue.

he purposefully moves your chin to make you a witness of his sinful action, humming deeply around the taste of you, his eyes fluttering shut, his digits popping out drenched.

your mouth hangs, your tongue unconsciously peeking out as if asking to be made a participant, but jeongguk only smirks and stands straight once again, his wet hand leaving another light spank on your ass cheek, “turn around, sweets.”

you do as asked, making sure your palms are still steadying your weight on the counter now behind you, afraid your legs alone won’t be able to.

but you soon find out you won’t have to put much effort into that when jeongguk lifts you with ease and sits you on the surface, your slickness meeting the cold marble.

you don’t have to lift your head to look at him anymore, your heights now the same. but finding yourself directly in front of his hardened gaze makes you feel even more intimidated.

especially when he traces your inner thigh, his eyes never leaving yours, “every time you stand up to leave after dinner, you always leave a puddle on my chairs. and i’m left to clean it up.”

you swallow audibly at the accusation, and you can feel your eyes water once again, biting your lips to conceal the shame.

he only grins amusedly at your state, the tip of his tongue coming out to play with his lower lip. the hand on your leg now forces it to move to the side, his face only getting closer to yours, his tone deeper, “i’ve thought about licking it up, you know? but then i always stopped myself, because i knew i’d get to taste your pretty, wet pussy.”

you gasp, a shaky moan leaving you uncontrollably, and your fingers hover over his figure, wanting to find support in him but unsure whether to touch him.

he finds your mouth with a short kiss, almost reassuring, but he’s back to spitting sins the moment he lowers his face between your spread legs, and the way he looks up at you is almost scandalous.

he looks devilish, his orbs visible through his lashes, his tongue wetting his lips. he takes your uncertain hand and places it between his tousled hair, directing himself to you, instructing you how to use him.

he presses a peck above your clit, still drinking in your reactions, his smile wicked, “i knew you’d crumble soon. you little minx. going after your best friend’s dad. so naughty.”

your head is thrown backwards at his words, ones that only add to the pleasure that takes over you when he latches at your pussy, the wet sounds ungodly.

the shame and guilt mixing in the back of your mind generate a profane sense of bliss you’d never think you could reach, and even though deep down you feel dirty being confronted with the truth he sputtered out so easily, you can’t help getting off to it right now.

jeongguk is ravenous as he finds your drenched lips, lapping furiously at them and drinking the juice that continuously drips out.

he flicks the tip of his tongue up and down your swollen clit, and your hand that he himself put on top of his head now tugs at his curls, forcing him closer to you.

he’s trapped, your legs squeezing around his head, his nose nuzzled in your slit, and he can’t stop the hand that reaches to stroke his pleading dick.

you think you hear him mumble something along the lines of taste so good as he teases your hole with his wet muscle, and you’re a gone woman the moment you look down, your eyes fluttering open.

his own are closed, brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose relentlessly grinding against your sensitive nub, and the way he seems so affected by the act of pleasuring you breaks something inside you.

you feel it begin to crumble when his tattooed hand reaches up to lift up your top just enough to expose your breasts, nipples hardening with the cold air and the stimulation, and they hurt deliciously when he starts kneading at your boobs, fondling them with care.

the deep hum generated from his throat vibrates against you, and the flick of his thumb around the center of your tit matched with the way your clit is being continuously abused unexpectedly leads you to your orgasm.

it’s fast, unannounced, and you find support in his hair, your body taking over your brain and relentlessly grinding against jeongguk’s face, suffocated between you, unable to stop reaching for the heavenly, and so awaited high.

your whines are frantically high pitched, but the moment he feels you cum all over his mouth everything around him disappears except you, and all he cares about is slurping you, drinking you as you let it all out because of him.

he pants, breathless, opening his eyes to witness your climax, to admire you breaking under his doings, chest swelling with pride and a primal sense of protectiveness.

when he hears you whimper the more he keeps sucking on your clit, your slim fingers pulling at his locks, he finally lifts himself up.

on the path he follows to come back up to meet your face, he finds your nipple with a sweet kiss, his tongue teasing your nub, and he smiles against it, teeth gently pinching it, when seeking with his eyes for your reaction he sees your own rolling back.

next, his mouth is on yours, smearing your wetness all over your lips and mixing it with his spit on your tongue, connecting in a frantic, hungry dance.

his forehead is on yours when he breaks the kiss, his breaths heavy, the lazy grin on his face the only thing you can focus on, hanging on his gentle words, “did so good, pretty. came so hard all over me.”

your eyes inevitably fall down to his cock, painfully hard against his stomach, the tip angry and slicked with precum.

you feel your core buzz, kissing him to conceal the unshameful desire building up so fast again, but still you can’t help from mumbling against him, “wan’ you to fuck me.”

the hum of pleasure coming from his throat reverberates on your lips, and he smiles at your confession. even chuckles, one hand resting at your hip and sliding you closer.

“that what you want, baby?” your legs wrapping around him, he kisses along your neck and travels down to your collarbones, leaving small bites to keep himself from marking you like he truly wants to.

he slips his palms under your thighs and lifts you off the counter effortlessly, and you squeeze your hold tighter around him in order to keep yourself balanced.

the new position has his cock perfectly meeting your core, your slit brushing against his tip as he walks you two over the living room couch, his mouth promptly swallowing your whimpers.

when he lays you on the sofa, he straightens himself to fully admire you. you’re sprawled for him, your hair framing your head like a halo, the sweat pearling your forehead adding to your angelic state.

your hands are on either side of your face, fingers dainty and slender, and your tank top is lifted up enough to show him your small breasts, slightly spilling from the sides.

your shorts still rest under your ass, and with a swift motion he fully takes them off you, giving him access to your center.

but the attention is taken away from your wet cunt when he lets his eyes come back up to your face, your cheek resting on your shoulder, trying to hide your embarrassment at his ravenous observing.

he smiles, becoming impatient with the feeling that only grows inside him, and he walks out of his pants still pooled down his ankles, taking off his loose t-shirt and letting it fall on the ground.

your eyes widen at his sculpted physique, now finally in front of you, his buff dimensions intimidating you, especially when your orbs follow his v line and put you face to face with his huge cock, so close to your watering hole.

he teases it with his length, sliding it up and down your slit, then slapping it against your clit. you arch your back, groaning.

“am i the real man you’ve been waiting for? you wanna be fucked by this big man, don’t you?” his sinful words only make you nod dumbly, becoming potty under his control.

at your eagerness, he wastes no time. aligning himself with your hole, he enters you. the stretch is deliciously painful, his tip boldly splitting you open for him.

he knows your wail is coming, so he lowers himself on you to block your sounds with his mouth. but he’s the one that needs to be silenced.

the moment he feels your tightness around his bare dick, he growls. his sounds grow more desperate as he sinks himself deeper, the grip on your waist enough to wreck you, and you’re expecting it to leave a mark.

you hum roughly against his lips, your nails scratching along his shoulder blades in search for any kind of grounding you can find.

it’s too much, his dimensions way oversized for what your hole can take, and the fact that you can’t help but grip him even tighter isn’t helping.

he reads you, your broken whines and the tear falling from your left eye, and the moment he bottoms out he stills himself, his face in the crook of your neck, his nose nuzzling the warm skin in a reassuring manner, “shh, baby. i got you. let me make you feel good.”

the whispered words are the same ones that jolted you from your sleep, the dream almost too real, and paired with his middle and ring finger circling your sensitive nub they cause you to emit a pleasured squeal, your chest arching into his.

at this point, you’re afraid you’re still trapped deep in your slumber. that none of this is actually real, it can’t be.

you’re so convinced that it’s just too good to be true that you test it, scraping your nails harshly in his back, and when he bites the skin under your jaw in protest you gasp shakily.

it’s definitely real. jeongguk is fucking you. almost. not yet.

with the way your clit is being stimulated by his long fingers, the initial sharpness turns into more slick, and you impatiently groan, “fuck me, please.”

one final kiss is left on your lips before he lifts his torso up, his hands roaming along your sides and grasping a hold of your tits.

he teases you with a playful smirk on his face, your disappointed pout only resulting in a devilish chuckle from him as he massages your soft boobs.

but you can feel him throb inside you the more you swallow him in, and you know he’s just as impatient. you buck your hips up in search of friction, and the sudden motion makes the both of you moan.

he’s suddenly resolute as his palms fall to your waist and effortlessly hold you up as he begins fucking into you. with each stroke he picks up his pace, and he’s soon pounding your tight hole wrapping around him.

the two of you soon find out it’s impossible to be quiet. your sounds are stuttered and pornographic, and it makes jeongguk afraid he’s never going to be able to get them off his brain.

his own noises are heavenly, deep growls and surprised whines falling out his pillowed lips, slightly agape in bliss, brows drawn up.

your eyes roll back and never come back, your vision patched, and you think you weren’t build to survive this kind of pleasure. it’s almost deathly when he finds that one particular spot that makes you see stars.

your skin slapping is louder than his hushed speech, but he makes sure the words reach you and translate into wetness coating his length even more, drenching it, making it soaked in your juices, “that’s how you need to be fucked. that’s how my girl needs to be fucked, hm?”

“mhm, fuck, yes!” it’s breathless, but you want him to hear you. you feel yourself get closer just watching him smirk proudly at your state, his pupils blown out.

his palms are back to playing with your breast, kneading it harshly, and you enjoy the way he seems to be hypnotized by the vision, “fuck. love your tits. fit just right in my hand. you were made for me, princess.”

your head is thrown back between the cushions, your legs wrapping around his ass and pushing him even deeper, the anticipated sensation building simultaneously in both of your trembling bodies.

“i’m not gonna last long, baby. this pussy’s too tight. trappin’ me inside it,” jeongguk’s voice is rough, the words leaving him slurredly and all his effort put into snapping his hips against yours, his eyes focused on the relentless in and out motion.

you wail, mumbling nonsense, but at the same time the most sincere words you’ve ever sputtered to him, “it’s yours, jeongguk. f—fucking yours. forever. ah— fuck.”

he hums, feeling you contract around him the more he speaks to you, “that’s it. my pussy to fuck, angel. mine to play with, mine to fill up.”

your eyes widen at his territorial remarks, and when they meet his hazy ones they water with overwhelming ecstasy.

the possibility of his cum filling you up is what does it for you, your nerves undoing once again and making you spasm around his throbbing dick.

he talks you through your abrupt orgasm, praising you for cumming so good all over him, drinking in your blissful sounds and your hips rutting against his.

he’s just as close, and the realization that you came the moment he mentioned painting you in his seed makes him a crazed man, his motions stuttering sloppily, “fuck. aren’t you a naughty one, doll. you really want me to cum inside you? you want it, huh? i bet you do.”

your repeated nodding and the way your body is so pliant in his hold, letting it be completely handled by him with no functioning muscle, pervades his senses with a primal force that he puts all into fucking your sensitive cunt.

he smirks wickedly, “you’d look so pretty. all stuffed. want me to fill up this tight pussy? want my mature cock in so deep you can’t breathe?”

you think you scream at his continuous suggestions, but you can’t be sure when all your senses are clouded, the oversensitivity turning you into a literal doll for him, no power over your actions.

he looks just as fucked out, his lips parting as he basks in the feeling of being in control of you, his eyes fighting to stay open and keep you in his vision.

when he feels you contracting around him in overstimulation, his breath stutters and he feels himself reach the peak, quickly pulling out of you to spill his cum over your naked skin.

you gasp at the sudden emptiness and the warm liquid that keeps falling over your stomach, his cock being pumped in his fist and milked from all he can give you.

you both pant in exhaustion, your legs loosening their grip around him as he dips his weak knees on either side of you on the couch.

he hums when he fully takes in your figure, marked by his cum, and he smiles when he sees your eyelids struggling not to fall.

but you spasm once again when you feel his finger slide over your stomach, the wet liquid being collected, “now, you gonna clean this up for me. open your pretty mouth, baby.”

you don’t even ponder on the request, you just follow the order. your brain is reduced to thoughts that are only related to him, and it automatically complies to anything that he asks from you.

you engulf his digits promptly, swallowing his semen, looking up at him through your lashes and unashamedly clenching at his lazy smirk.

he makes sure every drop of his is collected and sucked by your hungry mouth, smiling when you don’t ever complain, “mh, good girl. get them neat.”

when he’s satisfied, he hovers over your face and finds your tongue in a sensual, slow kiss, both of you moaning at the exchange.

with a sloppy sound, he parts from you only to disappear between your thighs, his eyes mischievous, “gonna clean you up, too.”

you gasp at the feeling of his mouth wrapping around your core once again, slurping your juice and lapping at your inner thighs, and you’re not sure how this is going to help in getting you clean. you only feel yourself becoming even wetter, if possible.

leaving a kiss above your nub, he straightens up with a boyish smile softening his features, and with the fond way he’s looking at you, nobody could tell he just made you cum twice.

he moves your bangs from your forehead, closing the distance between you once again to leave small pecks over your still reddened face, “you did amazing, doll. made me cum so hard.”

you hum contentedly, snuggling closer to him, your body unconsciously gravitating toward his warmth. your hand lifts to thread through his hair, but before you can touch him, he shifts, pulling away.

the warmth he provided vanishes, replaced by the cold emptiness of the couch. panic surges in your chest, washing away any remnants of fatigue. you prop yourself up on your forearms, eyes tracking his movements.

you don’t want him to leave you here alone, bare and vulnerable, maybe a bit confused and uncertain, and deep down deathly scared of whatever will come after this.

your brows furrow, heart picking up a painful speed when you see he’s getting dressed—tossing on his shirt, pulling on his pants. and for a second, your heart clenches with dread. is he leaving?

but then you notice him picking up your shorts from the floor, his expression softening as he walks back to you with that same gentle smile that had made your heart flutter earlier.

relief washes over you.

he handles you delicately, as though you’re something fragile. his fingers brush your skin as he slips your shorts back on, pulling down your top before encircling your waist with his strong arms.

you squeal lightly when he pulls you onto his lap, settling back on the couch with you cradled against his chest. his hands never leave you, securing you to him.

you settle into him easily, sighing in appreciation as the warmth of his body returns, your legs draped across his lap, arms circling his neck.

for a brief, fleeting moment, everything feels like it’s in its right place, like this is where you’ve always belonged. it feels so natural, so easy, being wrapped up in him.

his deep, slow breaths lull you into a state of calm. his chin rests on the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing strokes along your spine.

you press even closer, breathing him in, feeling like you could get used to this, like you already have. like you’ve always known this is where you should be.

your fingers trace absentminded patterns along his tattooed arm, the one holding you secure under your legs. you feel the need to look at him, to admire the man that marked you as his.

but when you glance up, you’re a bit startled when you notice the shift in his expression. his face is hardened, jaw clenched tight. he’s not relaxed like he was just moments ago. his gaze is distant, staring intently at a spot across the room as if lost in thought.

yet his hands continue to cradle you, almost unconsciously, like holding you has become second nature to him.

but his mind is a whirlwind of emotions, and they only scatter all over the place as he feels you move closer, impossibly so.

you seek warmth, care. nuzzle your fragile body against his for protection, something more that he fears he can’t give you. love.

he once thought he’d drained himself of it, had nothing left to offer. but now, with you in his arms, the smallest spark flickers to life, burning its way up his throat until it feels like it’s going to consume him.

he wants to give in. he wants to hold you tighter, trap you against him, keep you with him. give you love.

but he can’t do that to you. can’t make you go through the same path that took everything from him. not without ruining you in the process.

he knows what comes next. love turns into suffering. it’s inevitable.

and could he survive seeing the look on areum’s face if she ever finds out? how would she react if she knew the truth about what he’s done, about how he feels? about how he truly wants to act upon his feelings?

the thought makes him feel sick, even as his heart beats steadily against yours, comforted by your presence.

but why doesn’t he feel disgusted? why isn’t there shame gnawing at him, making him pull away? there’s only bliss. the sheer joy of having you this close, of holding you like this, makes him forget everything else.

he wishes he could be immature, for once. wishes he was your age, and that nothing truly mattered. that he still could allow himself to make stupid decisions.

maybe then, you’d feel right in his arms, and reality wouldn’t catch up to him.

“jeongguk? are you okay?”

your soft, honeyed voice pulls him from his spiral, and he startles slightly, caught off guard. his eyes meet yours, wide and filled with concern, searching his face for answers.

he tries to hide the storm brewing inside him, forcing a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “huh? yeah. i’m okay.”

of course, you don’t believe him. an ugly feeling makes space in your stomach, and the weight of everything begins to press down.

you don’t want it to take over you just yet, want to be coddled by the illusion a little more, want to try and believe there’s nothing to be afraid of.

you offer a tentative smile, hoping to ease whatever tension is growing between you. “you… you seem worried.”

“i’m not, baby. i’m just thinking.”

“about?”

“stuff.” his voice is clipped, and the small wall he’s building between you becomes clearer.

the distance stings, and your heart sinks as you try to hold onto the moment that felt so perfect just a second ago. desperate to reach him, you place your hands on his face, tilting his chin down to meet your gaze.

your eyes jump all over his, but you manage a genuine, if small, smile. “you can tell me, you know. you can talk to me.”

one simple, small smile spreading across his lips makes you doubt all of your worries. it makes you want to believe that maybe, there’s truly no reason to be scared. that maybe, this can go well.

“i know,” it’s whispered on your face, his hand coming to play with the hair that frames your cheeks sweetly. “let’s get you to bed now, hm?”

before you can protest, he’s lifting you off the couch with ease, cradling you in his arms bridal style as if you weigh nothing at all. you clutch onto him.

you feel your insides fuzzy with the gesture, and you wiggle yourself closer in his embrace, looking up at him expectantly, “your bed?”

it breaks his heart having to disappoint you, tone firm as he tries to make up for it with his thumb brushing your thigh, “no, baby. you gotta go back to areum’s room.”

“but— but… i wanna sleep next to you,” you plead, your voice small and almost childlike as you pout up at him, hoping to sway him.

he looks away, focusing on the stairs as if looking at you would break his resolve. “we can’t, dove. you know we can’t.”

his words feel like a punch to the gut, and your voice hesitates. “we can’t?”

the silence that follows is louder than any answer he could have given, and it weighs heavy between you, suffocating. there’s no actual explanation to it, and the realization leaves both of you uneasy.

at areum’s door, he sets you down gently, making sure you’re steady on your feet. he’s careful with you, like he always is, his voice low, “go wash up. i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“no…”

“c’mon, sweetheart. don’t make this harder.”

you frown in protest, keeping eye contact, but he doesn’t break. his gaze is steady, resolute.

you want to argue, want to push, but the exhaustion settles over you, and you slump, defeated, but you still sway sweetly for him, your hands tied behind your back, “okay… can you kiss me?”

your voice is small, muffled behind your pout as you seek for him with anticipation, a shy smile making its way on your lips.

when he doesn’t move closer, you get on your tippy toes and lean in his direction once again, your eyes almost fluttering shut before you hear him clear his throat, and take an awkward step back.

you’re back on your heels with a thump, the same one reverberating in your chest with your heart falling, your mouth hanging open with confusion written all over your expression.

you go to say something but he’s quicker, his voice solemn, “goodnight, ___.”

jeongguk smiles, but it’s nothing like the ones that took over his whole face just minutes ago on the couch, his eyes full of you. you’re not even sure if you can define it as a smile.

it’s polite, almost too polite, and it only results in feeling tremendously distant from him. he’s completely disconnected from you.

he retreats, long legs carrying him away, his back to you as he slips into his room. the door clicks shut behind him, the sound final, and it echoes in the hollow space.

you stand still, the weight of his absence pressing heavily on your chest. the spot where he left you feels like a grave, your feet sinking into the cold floor as if it’s pulling you under. the warmth he offered, the fleeting sense of safety, is gone, and you’re freezing.

you try to breathe, but the air feels sharp, your throat tight with the effort to hold back the tears welling in your eyes. it’s useless, though.

your bare feet shuffle against the floor, but you can’t move forward. you can’t go back. you can’t do anything except stand there and feel the weight of it all crash down on you.

you’d been so afraid this would happen. how could you have been so foolish? even in the midst of the sweetness, you knew it was too good to be true. a part of you always knew.

and yet, you let yourself believe for a fleeting moment that something real could come from it. that you could be enough.

you’d have done anything to prove it to him. to show him your loyalty, your willingness to make it work. you still would. you’d give him every part of yourself, if he’d only take it. if he’d only look at you the way you want him to.

the full weight of your reality sinks in. in the end, none of it was truly real.

a sob breaks free from your chest, raw and painful. the sound echoes in the quiet hallway, bouncing off the walls that now feel oppressive, like they’re closing in on you. this house, every corner, it’s all stained now, tainted by the lie you let yourself fall into.

and you? you feel tainted, too.

[isaadore]

AS SURE AS THE SKY IS BLUE LUKE HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ pairing luke hughes x reader

SUMMARY luke has never been more certain about anything in his life. he wants to marry you, and he wants to do it now. never mind that he’s only 21 or that everyone around him keeps asking if he’s sure. he’s sure. he’s never been more sure about anything in his life. word count 0.8k

warnings fluff, mentions of marriage

note requested 🤍

LH43 MASTERLIST MAIN MASTERLIST

LUKE HAD ALWAYS been impatient when it came to things he wanted. His NHL debut? He had been counting down the days since he was a kid. Living on his own? He was practically throwing his bags into his new apartment before his mom could make him a goodbye breakfast. But this was different. This wasn’t just something he wanted. It was something he knew.

“I’m gonna marry you,” he had said one night, voice muffled against your shoulder as he lay on top of you on the couch. It was the off-season, and he had spent nearly every day like this, clinging to you like you were his lifeline, soaking up every second before he had to go back to New Jersey.

You had laughed, fingers softly threading through his hair. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” He lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest so he could look at you properly. His eyes were unwavering. “I’m serious.”

Your heart had stuttered at the way he said it. Not like a question, not like a possibility. He had said it like a fact.

“Luke,” you had started. He was 21, and you were barely older. People your age didn’t just get married.

He shut you up with a kiss. “I know what you’re gonna say,” he mumbled, lips brushing against yours. “And I don’t care. I love you. I want to marry you. Why should we wait?”

You hadn’t had an answer for that. You still didn’t.

The engagement wasn’t a huge, elaborate ordeal. No viral-worthy flash mobs or expensive candlelit dinners. Just the two of you, standing in the kitchen of your shared apartment, his hands slightly clammy as he pulled out a ring and said, “Marry me?” like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

And because it was Luke, and because you loved him, and because why should we wait? you had said yes.

Which led to now. Sitting in a booth at a restaurant, a dinner meant to celebrate the engagement turned into an intervention.

“You’re sure about this?” Jack asked, arms crossed over his chest. It was the third time he had asked.

“Yes.” Luke shot him a glare before looking around the table. His parents, his brothers, his teammates. All of them were looking at him like he had just announced he was dropping hockey to become a circus performer.

“It’s just…” Quinn paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. “You’re young, Luke.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “So?”

“So most people don’t get married at 21,” Jack cut in, throwing his hands up.

“Well, I’m not most people,” Luke shot back.

Beside him, you squeezed his hand under the table. You had expected this. Luke had, too. His family was supportive, but they were also realists. And realists didn’t get engaged at 21.

Ellen sighed. “Sweetheart, we’re not saying you shouldn’t marry her.” She gave you a warm, reassuring smile before turning back to her son. “We just want to make sure you’re thinking this through.”

“I have thought this through,” Luke said, exasperated. “For months.”

“Months,” Jack repeated like it was a ridiculous amount of time.

Luke groaned, running a hand down his face. “Guys. Look at me.” He gestured to himself. “Do I look like someone who doesn’t know what he’s doing?”

Jack opened his mouth. “Do not answer that,” Luke warned before he could say anything.

A chuckle passed around the table, but the concern was still there, lingering in the air.

“Luke,” Jim finally spoke, calm and measured, like he was trying to keep the peace. “Marriage isn’t something you rush into.”

Luke softened, taking a breath before responding. “I know that,” he said. “But I also know that I love her. And I don’t want to wait years just because people think that’s what we’re supposed to do.”

He turned to you then, eyes searching yours, needing you to back him up.

You squeezed his hand again and smiled. “I know it seems fast. But we love each other, and we’re happy. That’s what matters, right?”

Ellen exhaled, smiling softly. “It is what matters.”

Jack still looked skeptical, but he leaned back in his seat, conceding. “Alright. Fine. But if you ever need an out, just say the word.”

Luke rolled his eyes but grinned. “Not happening.”

And just like that, the tension eased. His parents let it go, Jack stopped grilling him, and the dinner turned into what it was supposed to be: a celebration.

Later, as you walked hand in hand toward the car, Luke tugged you closer. “You still sure about this?” he teased, bumping his nose against yours.

You grinned. “As sure as the sky is blue.”

Luke beamed, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Good. Because I can’t wait to marry you.”

Neither could you.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ LH43 MASTERLIST ✷ MAIN MASTERLIST

[kiestrokes]

Day 21: Star Lost | NSFW

▸ Idol: Lee Felix of SKZ ▸ Rating: NSFW. Mature (18+) Minors DNI. ▸ Genre: WIP, smut, neighbor's to lovers AU. ▸ Vibe: This is a much further excerpt of an eventual smut, gamer/model!Felix that is incredibly loosely (and lovingly) inspired by the comic Let's Play by Leeanne Krecic. ▸ Warnings: language, beginnings of an established relationship, brief body insecurity.

Sexually Explicit Content: slight body worship, encouraging Felix, morning after sex, sexual intercourse (penis in vagina), sight orgasm control, soft dom!Lix (I wrote this for @chans-room and their dom!Lix agenda), multiple orgasms,

🗝️ Note: Has not beta-ed by me or anyone else. THIS IS A WIP! (it is wipmas) It is not complete; this is very much a rough outline/first run through. Sorry its late, I am fucking exhausted at the tail end of this holiday season.

Disclaimers: This is a work of fiction; I do not own any of the idols depicted below.

「 25 Hours: Hard, Soft and WIP-mas Masterlist 」

You’re woken up the next day, nude and draped across his body. You go to move and Felix grumbles. Tugging you up his body for some lazy morning kisses that quickly escalate. He guides your hips to straddle him as you fumble around for a shirt.

“What are you doing?” Lix rumbles as he kisses your jaw.

“I need a shirt if I’m going to be on top.”

“No you don’t, I want to see you. If you're comfortable with that...”

You nod, the nervousness quickly being overtaken as his hands glide up your stomach to cup a breast while the other guides his cock to tease your entrance.

“Sit back a little,” Felix breaks off into a gasp as you instantly comply, his eyebrows converging as you tilt your hips to sink onto his length.

“Ugh fuck-” you shudder, bracing your hands on his chest to roll your hips to nestle him inside.

Your neck snaps back at the feeling, breasts thrusting forward in his face.

Felix grunts in approval, “again.”

You do, again and again until you chance a glance at Felix his eyes flicking between your working pelvis and breasts.

He feels your eyes on him and meets your gaze “you’re so beautiful.”

Heat crests across your cheeks as his baritone of approval goes straight to your cunt.

You widen your knees, watching as Felix clenches his teeth. Hissing. His hands dig into the flesh of your ass and valley where your thigh meets your hip. Urging your forward, quicker with a brute strength that still amazes you.

“That’s it,” he bucks up into you and you toss your head as his cock hits that one spot perfectly again and again.

Felix laughs softly, leaning forward to nuzzle his face between your breasts. Hand gliding up your back between your shoulder blades to grasp a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck. You cry out, body shuddering at the sensation as Felix drives his his hips upwards, thighs slapping lewdly into your ass.

“Do you like that?”

“Yes!” You whine.

“Good,” Felix sighs long and ragged as your bodies drive towards a mutual release.

His hand in your hair tightens and you moan at the feeling, his lips teases your ear as he whispers, “want you to come all over me, before I lay you down. Can you do that?”

Felix ducks his head to lick one softened nipple sending it into a stiff peak before repeating the same to the other.

“Yes,” your hips stutter as the rubber band of pleasure pulls tight, too tight.

“Look at me,” you do as you shake with tension, nails embedding in his back as you start to fall apart.

His piercing gaze, the usually massive pools of warm chestnut have been overtaken by an abyss of black as his pupils are blown wide displaying his blatant lust for you.

“Oh!”

The same intense tension that made your body shudder, causes your body to fall limp, but Felix has you. Laying you down and slowly stroking you through the reverberations of your orgasm.

His own body tense as he holds off his release, seeking more from you first. To feel you clench and gush around his stiff dick. To feel your body heat up and radiate against his. Felix moans at the thought, sitting back on his calves to circle his hips against yours.

You glance at his stomach, his abdomen littered with your release and understand. He did that. You did that.

© COPYRIGHT 2021 - 2024 by kiestrokes  All rights reserved. No portion of this work may be reproduced without written permission from the author. This includes translations.

[queenshelby]

Daughter Dearest (Part 11)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (47) x Step! Daughter (21)

Warning: Infidelity, Smut, Dysfunctional Family

Tag List will be updated soon! Please comment and engage!

The following few days passed like a blur. Cillian was in London, working and attending some meetings for another movie while you finally got rid of your ankle monitor, gaining some freedom.

You applied for a few jobs in the hope to save enough money to move out again, even before you were scheduled to relocate to New York to attend your photography course, while your mother was busy shopping for Award Season dresses with your sister who was keen to be a third wheel at the Golden Globes and Oscars that year.

"Why do you even want to go to these award shows with them? I mean, don't you feel weird about it?" you questioned your twin-sister Cliona one evening, as the two of you sat together in the kitchen, eating leftover pizza and chatting, while your mother was putting Sadie to bed. 

"Because it is fantastic for networking," she replied, chewing on a slice of pizza. "You never know who might be there and, besides, these events are great opportunities to show off," she added smugly, throwing a smug smile at you.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes and ignore her comment, allowing her to talk some more. Cliona had always been more interested in your stepfather's status than you had and, although you sometimes wished that you didn't care about her attitude towards his fame, it bothered you a lot lately.

In recent days, you had become particularly moody and being in a house with her and your mother, often alone, didn't help your nerves, despite the fact that you did love them.

On top of that, you had tried to push Cillian out of your head, telling yourself that what had happened between you two was a mistake and nothing more, but try as you might, you couldn't forget it.

You couldn't forget the way he had touched you, made love to you, or even just looked at you. You had never felt so desired in your life and although it scared you, it also excited you beyond belief.

It was a push-pull experience that made you yearn for his presence while, at the same time, you wanted things to go back to the way there were before, when you didn't have these feelings of guilt and shame constantly lingering over you when your mother and twin-sister were around.

"So you aren't coming to any of the awards then?" Cliona repeated her previous question with a pout, which mad you realise that, this entire time, when you were thinking about Cillian, she had been talking to you.

"W-what?" you said, snapping out of your daze. "Um, no, I won't be attending any of the awards shows with you guys. It's not for me and I have too much on my plate at the moment," you lied, even though you had no job and not much to do, other than wait for your course to start.

Cliona shrugged. "Suit yourself," she said, as if implying that you were missing out on a great opportunity, before finishing off her slice of pizza and standing up from her chair.

"Well, I'm heading to bed. See you tomorrow," she added, before walking out of the kitchen and leaving you alone in your thoughts.

You sighed and leaned back in your chair, staring out the window just as your phone  beeped, signaling a new text message. 

"You've got the job!" was the message written in big bold letters on the screen from the nice bartender at a local establishment to which a friend had introduced you to the day before. 

Excitement bubbled inside of you, and your troubles seemed to vanish at the sight of the single message. You were absolutely broke , so this opportunity couldn't have come at a better time. You would be able to start working within the next few days, which provided a sense of financial security and a diversion from the drama you had created with Cillian.

Cillian, himself, arrived back home later that week just as you were about to head out for your first shift at the bar.

You were dressed casually in a pair of dark jeans, a fitted grey shirt and your hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail.

"Hey," you greeted Cillian as he walked through the door, looking exhausted but happy to see you, his eyes lighting up as they met yours.

"Hey," he replied, retaining his distance which, in your opinion, made this encounter somewhat awkward.

Luckily for you though, you were an expert in the art of small talk and, even though you hadn't mastered it, your tone sounded light and casual.

"How was your flight?" you asked, as he placed his luggage down and unzipped his jacket.

"Long," Cillian replied with a weary sigh before his eyes met yours again.

The connection was undeniable, burning with a passion that refused to quell. But he had his integrity, and perhaps that was something he would never compromise. Not even for you.

"Where are you off to?"  Cillian inquired, his gaze falling on your outfit while you were fidgeting with the house keys.

"Oh, I've got a job now ," you informed him cheerfully, attempting to keep your tone light while trying to overcome the fluttering feelings in your chest.

"Where at?" Cillian asked, raising an eyebrow, and you wanted to smile at his enthusiasm, but you held back, taking a deep breath instead.

"Just a bar, in town. It's called O'Rielly's and is really nothing special," you lied, trying to downplay the significance of this job, but Cillian could see right through it.

"That's great though," he said with a warm smile, making your heart flutter uncontrollably. "Well done," he told you, knowing how you wanted to pay your own way. 

"Thanks. I really needed this. I was starting to feel like a burden around here," you muttered, not meaning to make the conversation heavy.

Cillian narrowed his gaze upon hearing that, sensing there was something more to your statement.

"You're not a burden, Y/N, and you never have been," he asserted, closing the distance between you, his hands resting on your upper arms reassuringly.

"Oh, I am sure my mother would disagree with you right now," you chuckled, not wanting to tell him about the many fights you had with her in recent days, all because you felt like a leech living in her house. "But listen, I really have to go. My shift starts at six," you said, zipping your jacket closed and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

"Do you want me to drive you?" Cillian offered, breaking through your thoughts.

For a brief moment, you imagined what it would be like to spend a few more minutes alone with him in the car. But you quickly shook off that dangerous thought.

"Thanks, but I can take the bus," you said, smiling weakly. "Despite, you just got off a six-hour flight,"  you added.

Cillian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off. "No, really. I've got this," you insisted, already moving towards the door.

Cillian sighed, looking like he wanted to say more, but he seemed to think better of it. "Alright, but call me when you get off work. I will pick you up. You shouldn't take the bus that late," he said, his voice firm.

You paused and looked back at him. "You worry too much,"  you said, but there was a small smile on your faces as you said it since you found his concern heartwarming.

"Only because I care," he replied with a warm smile before he allowed you to leave.

When you arrived at the bar for your shift, you found it bustling with people, eager to escape their daily routine. You took a deep breath to steady your nerves and walked behind the bar, where the manager was waiting for you.

"Ah, Y/N! It's good to see you. Here, put this on," she said, handing you a shirt. "I'll show you the ropes."

The first few hours flew by quickly, with you learning the ins and outs of the bar, how to make drinks, take orders, and keep the customers happy.

The pace was fast but exciting, and you found yourself enjoying the buzz around you, serving drinks, laughing with the patrons and relishing in the anonymity and the freedom that came with working at a separate place of employment.

When things started to slow down, you checked the time on your phone and saw it was already after midnight. There was no way Cillian would still be up, you thought to yourself, as you dried your hands on your apron and walked towards the front of the bar but, just as you were about to bring up the bus schedule again, your phone buzzed with a new message.

"I'm still picking you up," it read, causing your heart to skip a beat.

You smiled to yourself, thankful for his concern and hit 'Reply,' typing out a quick thanks and an estimated time for the end of your shift. You knew that there was still some cleaning up to do, which would take about thirty minutes or more.

You put your phone back into your apron’s pocket and got to work, finishing up as quickly as possible and the friendly bar manager, Jeremy, offered you a drink on the house after you finished lifting up all the chairs.

"You did extremely well today," he praised, touching your shoulder. "And thanks for taking the shift last minute, you really saved me," he smiled, noting that you weren't actually meant to start until the week after. 

"I am glad I could help," you responded before noticing him flirting a little with you.

"I enjoyed working with you tonight Y/N. I am serious," Jeremy added with a wink, making you blush slightly and laugh off his compliment. "And you can have as many shifts as you want," he went on to say, which caught you off-guard, since most places usually put new hires on a light schedule.

"Oh, really?" you asked, trying to hide your surprise. "I mean, that sounds good," you added hastily, before taking another sip of your drink.

"Absolutely. I would love to have you on the team, you are a star already," Jeremy complimented you again, causing your face to flush with heat.

You chuckled nervously and glanced down at your phone, checking the time, and saw a message from Cillian: "I will be there in a minute," it read, making you plan your exit. 

"I, uhm, I gotta go now if that's okay?" you  said shyly, biting your lip as you met Jeremy's gaze. His eyes lingered on your lips for a moment longer than necessary before he looked away, just as Cillian reluctantly pushed open the door to the bar, looking straight at the two of you.

"We are closed," Jeremy announced, trying to sound imposing, but you interrupted him.

"It's okay. He is just...uhm...picking me up," you stammered, shuffling your feet nervously as you broke eye contact with Jeremy. "He won't let me take the bus and now this is all really awkward," you then blurted out, causing Cillian to raise an eyebrow.

"I am Cillian. Y/N's..." Cillian paused before saying the word. "Stepfather," he clarified hesitantly, offering a polite smile and his hand to Jeremy for a handshake. There was a slight tension in the air as Jeremy hesitantly shook Cillian's hand, eyeing him carefully, before finally giving you a nod. 

"Oh, right. Of course," Jeremy said, seeming to understand that there was nothing more to this interaction, which made you feel more at ease. 

"I'll just...uhm...go and get my things from the back then," you muttered nervously before quickly scurrying towards the back room to collect your belongings.

You could feel both Cillian's and Jeremy's eyes on you as you gathered your coat and bag, your heart hammering away in your chest.

You had never been very good at hiding your emotions, and it seemed that both men had picked up on you feeling somewhat out of place right now. 

"Okay, I'm ready," you eventually said, brushing a lock of hair out of your face as you walked back out to the front of the bar and, after Jeremy thanked you for your hard work, you followed Cillian out of the door, your heart still racing.

"You know you really didn't have to stay up for me," you said as Cillian opened the car door for you.

"I know. But I wanted to make sure you got home safely. Besides, I was still up anyway," he replied, his tone serious.

As you sat next to him in his car, you couldn't help but feel a little self-conscious about Jeremy and how he had been looking at you throughout the night and, it was also something that Cillian had picked upon. 

"Everything okay?" Cillian asked, seeming to sense your discomfort.

"Yeah, everything's fine," you lied, forcing a smile.

"I can see the bar manager has already taken a liking in you," Cillian said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"Yeah, I think, maybe, he has," you confirmed, looking out of the window of the car as Cillian expertly drove through the quiet streets of the city.

"Then again, he works in a bar. I am sure he has taken a liking to many women who have worked there," Cillian replied in a matter-of-fact tone.

You remained silent for a moment, trying to decipher his intent, but you chose not to press further at that moment.

"Are you jealous?"  you blurted out, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left your lips. It was the last thing you wanted to imply, given the circumstances.

Cillian glanced at you and raised an eyebrow, causing you to quickly backtrack.

"I mean, not that you have any reason to be, of course. I am just your stepdaughter after all," you added hastily, your cheeks flushed as you watched Cillian's expression soften.

"No, I'm not jealous," he replied softly. "I am just concerned about you, that's all. I don't want to see you getting hurt."

"Sure, we will leave at that," you nodded, understanding his concern, and looked away, embarrassed that you had even brought it up.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, with neither of you speaking. But, despite the silence, the tension between you two was palpable. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to ignore the thoughts and images that swirled in your mind.

The memories of the connection you shared, the intimacy you both had experienced, and the desire that still lingered, seemed to be clouding your judgement, and you couldn't help but long for that closeness again.

The car pulled up outside the house, and Cillian turned off the engine, allowing the silence to envelop you. He shifted in his seat as he glanced at you, his gaze piercing through the darkness. You could sense that he was trying to read your thoughts, but you couldn't find the words to explain what was going on in your head.

Your mind was a whirlwind of emotions, conflicting desires, and unspoken truths that clashed together, creating turbulence you were struggling to navigate.

"We should go inside and get some rest. It's late," you  said softly, your eyes meeting Cillian's. There was a lingering tension between you both, as if his gaze could combust the emotions resparking within you.

"Yeah," Cillian  replied after a moment, his voice almost a whisper. He let out a long breath before he opened his car door, stepping out on the pavement.

Only after he had fully closed the car door did you realize that you had been holding your breath. It was then that you released it in a sigh, feeling strangely disappointed that the night had ended like this, with awkwardness and silence and no connection between you both, except the remembered one.

You quickly exited his car, feeling embarrassed at how much your feelings for him had control over you at times, now that he was ignoring them too.

"Goodnight, Y/N," Cillian muttered, almost under his breath after you both stepped inside, as if he was too afraid to say it any louder.

You turned to him, your eyes wide with surprised and confusion, before you replied with a hoarse "Goodnight" and walking up the stairs, leaving Cillian to stand alone in the hallway. 

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[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - December 22-28

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles for 50% off this month only! Starting in January, I’ll also be posting 5 extra news links to Patreon each week (for free since they aren’t my work)

1. These countries all scored major wins for LGBTQ+ rights in 2024

“Consensual same-sex activity became legal in Namibia [and Dominica…, c]onversion therapy was banned [in Mexico…, Greenland] made LGBTQ+ discrimination illegal […, and] same-sex adoption and same-sex marriage became legal [in Greece.]”

2. After trial and error, Mexican fishers find key to reforesting a mangrove haven

“So far, the project has planted more than 1.8 million mangroves that have a 92-94% survival rate, Borbón estimated. [… M]angroves can prevent coastal erosion, store carbon and provide a nursery for all kinds of fish and crustacean species.”

3. ‘Britain’s wildlife safari’: baby boom in Norfolk as seal colonies flourish

“More than 1,200 seal pups were born […] in November, and 2,500 more are expected to be born before the breeding season ends in January. […] “Mortality seems to be much lower than in other colonies[….]””

4. Barcelona's metro trains are helping to charge the city's EVs each time they brake.

“[…T]he energy from the underground trains' brakes is used to power the trains and the stations themselves, while the remainder is sent snaking through cables to the surface to power plug-in stations for privately owned vehicles.”

5. Scientists thought this whale could only live for 70 years – turns out it's double that.

“The data [from repeated “photo identification of individual”s] revealed that Southern right whales can live for more than 130 years, with some speculated to reach the grand old age of 150.”

6. Rural Power Co-Ops Gain $4.37B in Latest US Clean Energy Funding

“[… A power co-op in Florida] will use its funding of more than $1.3 billion to develop 700 MW of utility-scale solar and battery energy storage projects in rural areas, reducing greenhouse gas emissions by more than 3.5 million tons annually[….]”

7. Fish-friendly dentistry: New method makes oral research non-lethal

“[… T]he researchers successfully performed the procedure on 60 fish with no fatalities. […] "This new approach researchers to track tooth replacement and development [in living] rare species or museum specimens that can't be damaged."”

8. These Brooklyn Homeowners Couldn’t Afford to Go Green. Then Help Arrived

“The program aims to repair and retrofit 70 two- and three-family homes […] in the span of two years. […] EnergyFit staff work as case managers to help homeowners navigate the complicated technical and bureaucratic processes, coordinate with tenants and set them up for further upgrades down the road.”

9. 2024 was a fantastic year for energy storage

“[… California] became the first state to pass 10 gigawatts, back in April. [… In Texas and California,] when extreme weather events hit, batteries were able to shore up the grid and lower energy costs for customers.”

10. Amid concern over microplastics, a Maine company creates a kelp-based laundry pod alternative

“"The slurry we're creating is similar to that of paper milling, and […] with Maine there's a lot of old infrastructure from the paper industry [… which] can be applied to our process here[….]” If all goes to plan, Dirigo Sea Farms' first batch of 10,000 kelp-based laundry pods will be ready for online sales by next spring.”

December 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[chosetherose]

Updated as of 6/30

The Eras Tour *Surprise Songs*

Taylor said her goal is to not repeat each show’s surprise songs so I thought it would be fun to track them as the tour goes on! Black strikethrough is included in the main set list. Purple strikethrough are included in the main set list but have been switched up at some show/s. Blue songs Taylor played but might be repeated due to messing up.

Taylor Swift

Tim McGraw (3/17) • Picture to Burn • Teardrops on My Guitar (5/5) • A Place in This World (4/22) • Cold as You (4/23) • The Outside • Tied Together with a Smile • Stay Beautiful• Should’ve Said No (5/19) • Mary’s Song (Oh My My My) • Our Song (3/24) • I’m Only Me When I’m with You (6/30) • Invisible (5/20) • A Perfectly Good Heart

Fearless

Fearless • Fifteen (5/6) • Love Story • Hey Stephen (5/14) • White Horse (3/25) • You Belong With Me • Breathe• Tell Me Why• You’re Not Sorry (4/21) • The Way I Loved You • Forever & Always (5/13) • The Best Day (5/14) • Change • Jump Then Fall (4/2) • Untouchable • Come In With The Rain • Superstar • The Other Side Of The Door (4/28) • You All Over Me (6/3) • Mr. Perfectly Fine (6/16) • We Were Happy • That’s When • Don’t You • Bye Bye Baby • Today was a fairytale (4/22)

Speak Now

Mine (5/7) • Sparks Fly (5/5) • Back To December • Speak Now (4/13, Taylor restarted part of the song but did not confirm it could be played again) • Dear John (6/24) • Mean (4/15) • The Story Of Us (6/17) • Never Grow Up • Enchanted • Better Than Revenge • Innocent• Haunted (6/9) • Last Kiss • Long Live • Ours (3/31) • If This Was A Movie (6/23) • Superman

Red

State Of Grace (3/18) • Red (5/21) • Treacherous (4/13) • I Knew You Were Trouble • All Too Well • 22 • I Almost Do (6/9) • We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together • Stay Stay Stay • The Last Time (6/16) • Holy Ground (5/27) • Sad Beautiful Tragic (3/31) • The Lucky One (4/2) • Everything Has Changed • Starlight • Begin Again (4/23) • The Moment I Knew (6/4) • Come Back… Be Here (5/12) • Girl At Home • Ronan • Better Man (5/19) • Nothing New • Babe • Message In A Bottle • I Bet You Think About Me (4/30) • Forever Winter • Run • The Very First Night • All Too Well – 10 Minute Version

1989

Welcome To New York (5/28) • Blank Space • Style • Out Of The Woods (5/6, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • All You Had To Do Was Stay • Shake It Off • I Wish You Would (6/2) • Bad Blood • Wildest Dreams • How You Get The Girl (4/30) • This Love (5/13) • I Know Places • Clean (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again, 5/28) • Wonderland (4/21) • You Are In Love • New Romantics

Reputation

…Ready For It? • End Game • I Did Something Bad • Don’t Blame Me • Delicate • Look What You Made Me Do • So It Goes… • Gorgeous (4/29) • Getaway Car (5/26) • King Of My Heart • Dancing With Our Hands Tied • Dress • This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things • Call It What You Want • New Year’s Day

Lover

I Forgot That You Existed • Cruel Summer • Lover • The Man • The Archer • I Think He Knows (5/21) • Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince • Paper Rings (6/23) • Cornelia Street • Death By A Thousand Cuts (4/1, Taylor confirmed it might be played again) • London Boy • Soon You’ll Get Better • False God (5/27) • You Need To Calm Down • Afterglow • Me! • It’s Nice To Have A Friend • Daylight (6/24) • All of the Girls You’ve Loved Before

Folklore

The 1 (replaced IS multiple shows) • Cardigan • The Last Great American Dynasty • Exile with Bon Iver • My Tears Ricochet • Mirrorball (3/17) • Seven (spoken, 6/17) • August • This Is Me Trying (3/18) • Illicit Affairs • Invisible String (replaced by T1 multiple shows) • Mad Woman (4/15) • Epiphany • Betty • Peace • Hoax • The Lakes (6/2)

Evermore

Willow • Champagne Problems • Gold Rush (5/12) • Tis The Damn Season • Tolerate It • No Body, No Crime • Happiness • Dorothea • Coney Island (4/28) • Ivy • Cowboy Like Me (3/25) • Long Story Short • Marjorie • Closure • Evermore (6/30) • Right Where You Left Me •It’s Time To Go

Midnights

On 4/14 Taylor changed the rule: ALL SONGS ON MIDNIGHTS MAY BE REPEATED. I’m adding the dates to the midnights surprise songs but they will remain in black text since they can be repeated.

Lavender Haze • Maroon (5/26) • Anti-Hero • Snow on the Beach (3/24) • You’re on Your Own, Kid (4/14) • Midnight Rain • Question…? (5/20) • Vigilante Shit • Bejeweled • Labyrinth • Karma • Sweet Nothing • Mastermind • The Great War (4/14) • Bigger Than the Whole Sky • Paris • High Infidelity (4/29) • Glitch • Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve (5/7) • Dear Reader • Hits Different (6/4)

Other

I don’t wanna live forever (6/3)

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

‧აsagittarius season tarot readings ໒ ‧₊˚

november 22 - december 21

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𓍢ִ˚*ੈ♡

These tarot readings are meant to give you some information about how the energy of this season is going to affect you. Sagittarius season usually comes with a big burst of energy, specially channeled in matters that relate deeply to the slightly more childlike side of our intellect. This season usually comes with an enhancement of curiosity, the need to explore and expand our horizons, but also the energy to do so. Let's check what are the positives and the negatives of this season for each sign.

don't forget to check your moon and rising signs' posts just in case

dividers by @adornedwithlight & @cafekitsune, images by Kira Cyan

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

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ོ༘₊⁺⋆𝙰𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 {𝙼𝚊𝚛𝟸𝟷–𝙰𝚙𝚛𝟷𝟿}

𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 ✦ 𝐏𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 ✦ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐒

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬

You are going to be in situations where sooner or later you will realize how easy it actually was to get out of them. There’s a lot of limitations being imposed onto you, and these are based on ideas and values that do not resonate with the person you actually are. During this season you will feel as if you are forced into conformity for the sake of others, almost suffocated by norms and expectations that are not relevant to your personal development, but they are useful to keep you in the places where you need to be. It seems as if this is the moment when you realize you don’t need to repeat the same cycles over and over again just because you are comfortable with the results, as the outcomes from these situations are not exactly fulfilling yet they are good enough to keep you wanting to try again just in case this next time it turns exactly the way you want.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Your need to move forward and go beyond what you already know is going to manifest in a way that could be too impulsive, there’s a chance that after an impulsive decision to change you will be faced with a feeling of uncertainty due to not knowing exactly for what or what it is that you are changing exactly. There’s going to be plenty of opportunities, plenty of new paths to follow, and way too many options for you to choose from. Don’t lose yourself in the anxiety and overwhelm from this, your intuition and your passionate nature will lead the way to the best possible journey.

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

During this season it is possible that you are faced with the possibility to explore and reset your actual journey, this is something that will manifest rapidly and it’s very likely there’s not much from this time that will stick with you for the long run. But, I think it could be beneficial to go along certain impulses if you’re willing to figure out what exactly did that impulse try to communicate to you. There’s plenty of self imposed values and ideals that do not exactly belong to you, and plenty of needs stemming from them that are not yours. It wouldn't be too bad if you let go of a few imposed structures. This moment in time will provide you with opportunities to learn by experiencing the world in the way you are meant to, even if everything seems uncertain and unstable, you have nothing to fear about having to adjust to chaotic changes instead of having to adjust to a forced monotony.

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚ 𝙻𝚎𝚘 {𝙹𝚞𝚕𝟸𝟹–𝙰𝚞𝚐𝟸𝟸}

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐎𝐅 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 ✦ 𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐒 ✦ 𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐒

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬

This season is coming with plenty of abundance. You might feel as if it is a matter of luck, but in reality things are going your way because you are going your way. This moment in your life is meant to test your ability to stay in your lane and care for the things you have achieved at this point of your journey. It’s very likely you are now beginning to understand how much power you have over your own joy and your own prosperity, and this season will provide you with opportunities to learn how to navigate uncertainty and how responsibilities are not meant to be limiting, but more so a key part in your exploration of what independence actually is. You will become more aware of how you need a certain amount of order and limitations to fully embrace your individual essence, as these responsibilities are what keep you motivated to grow.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

There’s going to be plenty of satisfactory outcomes for you this season, which don’t involve being overly proud or overly confident, they have the potential to lead to new ambitions that might conflict with your comfort in living a pretty individualistic life . Your accomplishments will demand you to rethink your path and your long term objectives, as you are now committed in ways that at times might feel overwhelming. You are going to get a lot of what you always desired, but it will take you some time to get used to it, and to be properly grateful about this new life.

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

You will no longer feel alone or alienated, instead, you will take a lot of the protagonism in both new and old spaces where you might have felt left aside. People are catching up on how good you’re doing, and your creative energy is quite contagious. The current season usually feels overly unstable and uncertainty is riddling everyone, but you are actually in a pretty good moment in your life. Keep your priorities straight even if you choose to go out of your way to help others. You definitely understand the importance of generosity, but don’t let it come from your ego. Be mindful of how you present to others and be ready to deal with jealousy.

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳𝚂𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚞𝚜 {𝙽𝚘𝚟𝟸𝟸–𝙳𝚎𝚌𝟸𝟷}

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐍 ✦ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐊𝐒 ✦ 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 & 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬

This is your season, and it shows. Your creative energy and your wisdom will allow you to fully be in charge of the type of experiences you want to contribute to your personal growth. Maybe right now it's not the best time to seek out the life changing events, but instead it would be just as nourishing to your intellect and your soul to open up for the life changing people who will most likely show up to you this season. You will inspire and be inspired in ways that are unexpected, and also by facing challenges alongside people who share your values and ideals. Right now it is key that you don’t look for validation by asserting your position in any kind of hierarchical way, but instead by allowing your individuality to be the main source of power and drive to further allow your virtues to show themselves naturally.

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

In plenty of situations you will be challenged to find the balance between community and individuality, especially when it comes to conflict that's caused by miscommunication or an illusion of order breaking apart. This season will provide you with opportunities to learn how the greater good is just as necessary as your own wellbeing, and how you should be in spaces where your ideals and values are shared. You are not meant to submit to anything, but instead you are meant to cooperate in a way that's honest and genuine to your essence as a person.

𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞

There's going to be a lot to overcome, both in the material sense as in the more existential and emotional senses. You are beginning to find confidence within yourself, and your journey is becoming more and more complex, this brings out plenty of conflictive energies into your life, yet not all of them are meant to be seen as a mere inconvenience, some of them are actually necessary obstacles to overcome for you to go as far as you want to go in life. Although at the moment you could be feeling limited by an unfair power dynamic or by a restrictive sense of order, you have the capabilities to work out a way around most things in your life. It is very important that you don’t shy away from facing the adversities in your path as they will follow you if you don't solve them.

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[tgmsunmontue]

Season to Taste - 36/42 WIP

Explicit Hangster - Celebrity Chef Bradley and Naval Aviator Jake Seresin who have a relationship spanning the globe before they realize how tightly bound they are to one another.

PROLOGUE/1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 (interlude) 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (interlude) 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 (interlude) 31 32 33 34 35

CHAPTER THIRTYSIX

                “Okay. Listen up. My boyfriend is in town. I’ve got him on the chef’s table. Now… he fucking auto-condiments. It’s a character flaw, but also it’s so very much him that I don’t think he’ll ever stop. So… don’t get your hackles up worrying about it. Or worrying about what I might think. He’s either added ketchup to everything I’ve made, or said it’s too sweet, or that his mom and grandma can make it better… I don’t think he’s actually ever paid my cooking a compliment now that I think about it.”

                His staff are all looking at him in undisguised horror and Bradley knows he’s probably exaggerating a little, because Jake has been plenty complimentary, but he also knows what he likes and isn’t ever afraid of letting Bradley know in no uncertain terms.

                “Oh, also, he doesn’t really know quite how famous I am. At least I don’t think so. We met a decade ago and he knows me as Leonardo, so he gets to call me Leo or Leon or Leonardo if he’s really pissed off.”

                Jaws lower even further toward the floor and Bradley grins at them all.

                “Yeah, I know. I’m in a good mood. My boyfriend is in town. Let’s have a good service okay?”

                “Yes chef!”

…            …            …

                “How did it go?”

                “Fuck…”

                “Again? Seriously? Bradley!” she punches him on the arm and she doesn’t hold back any strength and he flinches away. “What does he do? Suck your brain out of your dick?”

                “Uh…” he not sure whether to confirm or deny, because the weekend had been… illuminating. And amazing. And exhausting both physically and a little emotionally, just with them talking about more things which they might like to try out.

                “Ugh! It’s your funeral. Just tell him over the phone, or through Facetime. I think this is going to be a bigger deal for him than your fame and fortune.”

                “I know! Which is why I want to tell him in person!”

                “Well next time you see him I’m coming as chaperone to make sure it actually happens. You keep beating yourself up over it and it’s not good for you.”

                “I know…” Bradley says, and from the look Vi is giving him he knows it maybe isn’t contrite enough. “I’m… I do know. Sorry. I’ll try to not let it bother me, okay?”

                She snorts at that and rolls her eyes, but Bradley knows he’s forgiven when she rests her head on his shoulder as their plane takes off.

…            …            …

                Jake looks at the email attachment and pulls a face.

                It’s fine.

                This is the life he signed up for, and he’s been spoiled the last few months with being stationed at Fallon. It’s not the closest he could be to Leo, but he’s still seen him fairly regularly. It’s been really nice and he knows he’s going to miss him even more than usual. He rings in his lunch break, know Leo will be deep in the prep stage in the kitchen. He never thought he’d understand so much about how a restaurant is run, but he could listen to Leo talk about it for hours. Has listened to Leo talk about it for hours in fact.

                “Jake! He’s just stepped out front. We didn’t want to ignore the call though… how’s it going man?”

                “Uh, Kieran right?”

                “That’s me! And don’t worry, I know you’re probably on a time crunch. I’ve sent someone to fetch Bradley.”

                “Thanks. I appreciate it. And I’m going good. You know. Pretty standard…”

                “Lather, rinse and repeat right? Same here. Same shit, different day!” Kieran says, the last few words a little louder and he hears other jeers and laughter, has met most of them now and they’re Leo’s squad. He’s glad he has a good bunch of people working with him.

                “Get back to work you bunch of reprobates…” Leo says, his voice loud and clear and happy and Jake can’t help the thrill at hearing his voice. “Hey…”

                “Hey. Uh. Can you give me a couple of minutes?”

                “Of course,” Leo says, and Jake can tell from the change in sound that he’s no longer on speaker, that Leo is moving somewhere quieter. “What’s up?”

                “I got new orders. Direct to Kitsap, then Ronald Reagan for about five months.”

                “Shit.”

                “Yeah. I know you’ll get you hand on the manifest and meet me when you can. Just… I’m going to miss you.”

                “Yeah. I’m going to miss you too. So much.”

…            …            …

                It’s fine.

                Not the end of the world.

                The first few months slip past quickly enough.

                It is grating that he can’t meet Jake in Brisbane when he has leave. The entire crew are slated to take part in the Talisman Saber, which Ice has been telling him about, because he’s involved now that he’s the COMPACFLT and Bradley tries not to think about telling Jake that. He’s going to be seeing Jake when he’s got shore leave in Japan, when the Ronald Reagan berths there after it has done whatever it needs to do in the Pacific Ocean. Bradley can, and will, finally tell him all about Maverick and Ice and he can stop waking up in a cold sweat thinking about Jake being hurt and upset that he didn’t tell him. He runs his finger over the gold band on his finger, knows that the ring he bought Jake is hanging around his neck right now wherever he is and it makes him feel grounded somehow, despite their distance.

                His phone rings then and he startle a little, not expecting anyone, a little wary when he see Ice’s contact name showing. Since finding out how much it hurt’s Ice to talk Bradley has insisted on video calls where Ice can type out what he wants to say. The fact that he’s calling is… worrying.

                “Hey Ice…”

                “Bradley…”

                The scratchy rough pitch does nothing to lessen the tone of Ice’s voice has his knees shaking and he grabs for a chair and lowers himself into it. Is reminded of the time Mav told him about Ice’s cancer, but right now he has Jake somewhere in the Pacific Ocean… Don’t go borrowing trouble a little voice in his head whispers, and it’s been a while since he even remembered his mom saying that.

                “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”

                “Maverick is missing.”

                He feels relief flood through him, quickly followed by guilt in equal measure, that it’s Maverick Ice is ringing him about and not Jake. Shit. Mav is Ice’s though, and while he might still be cautious around Mav he doesn’t want Ice hurting. And he doesn’t ever want Mav dead.

                “What? How?”

                “He was flying…”

                “He… Did he crash?” Bradley asks, because how is he missing if he was flying? A plane is pretty fucking thing to go missing. “Or is the plane missing as well?”

                “I…”

                “Shit. Sorry. I know you can’t talk much.”

                “Classified.”

                “Of course it fucking is… Do you think he’s alive?”

                “He’s Maverick.”

                Bradley lets out a long annoyed sigh, because that shouldn’t be an answer, or an end to a line of questioning, and yet…

                “Yeah. I guess he is.”

THIRTY SEVEN

[melbatron5000]

My murder board

Updated 4/22/24

I'll add links as I can, but here's what I've got so far on the Good Omens season 2 puzzle/game. I feel it's important to note that I think we've been given all the puzzle pieces and a bunch of helpful hints besides.

The continuity errors:

Crowley's hair (POV thing)

Crowley's sideburns (POV)

The Bentley, "our car" but then it is Our Car in 1941 also -- WTF (There is a line in the book about someone being powerful enough to make something change and then make it so the change always was that way, but damned if I can recall the line or context now. Need to re-read AND re-watch! Found it! It's when Crowley first meets Adam after he's come into his powers -- he reads Crowley's mind and history like it's a book and this is the impression it leaves Crowley with. Adam's power is very similar to how the Book of Life is described in the show. Curiouser and curiouser!) (POV!)

Eccles cakes when Crowley leaves the shop, it's still morning, the continuity of time is messing with me. When they get the eccles cakes, it's light out. When Crowley leaves, it's dark out. He throws a lightning temper tantrum. He comes back after 9 by the clock in the shop. I still think it's not unreasonable to assume Aziraphale simply tidied away the eccles cakes in that time. Nina would have liked her plate back, after all. But all of this begs another question: 4a. Why is it around 11:30 when Aziraphale leaves Maggie's shop with the record and says he knows what he'll be doing for 21 minutes, but after 4 pm when Gabriel shows up? What happened for those 4+ hours? See 6. Clocks are wrong. Time is wrong!! (4.b the eccles cakes are prominent in at least one promo poster. Even if they don't disappear, do they mean something else??)

Portal rug it's a faded rug right up until the ball, when it becomes a thick red rug, then it's back to faded once the ball is tidied away. It just got made pretty for the ball, then changed back. The change is a nothingburger.

Clocks are wrong -- all over the damn place!!

Cross on Gabriel's statue -- appears to disappear. (POV)

Honolulu roast sign -- appears out of nowhere. (POV)

Title/location cards -- but there are some spots where the S1 title cards are used, what's going on there? (POV clues? -- this needs a closer look)

Drawing of Gabriel -- the one Aziraphale draws in the shop is NOT the one he shows the pub owner in Edinburgh. Why? (POV)

Wet roads/series poster -- what is up with all the rain??

Lights at Marguerites -- on again, off again. (POV? Or is it just when she's closed and open? It's a cafe, after all, they won't be open in the morning.)

Aziraphale's chair position in the Final Fifteen

1941 photo, Crowely's hand

Repeating extras -- not just repeating, but acting oddly -- walking back and forth, touching things, not eating, dressed the same every single day, etc. Do the people on the street in Edinburgh behave the same way?? (POV?)

Resurrectionist sign at the pub -- one with a scalpel, one with a butcher's knife. And it makes me think -- was Mr. Dalrymple a surgeon and a scientist with a scalpel, or a butcher with a cleaver? (POV. Wait, Aziraphale is the only MC there -- whose POVs would we be seeing?? Crowley's. He calls to tell Crowley what he found, what we're seeing is Crowley's idea of what happened.)

Store front signs -- appear and disappear. (POV)

Whickber street as seen from Heaven vs. on location -- the one Saraqael looks at in Heaven is the Google Maps picture of SoHo from 2019 with the book shop added in. It's not even from 2023! There is a building being torn down in it. In person on the show, it's different -- and the building is long gone in actual Google Maps 2023. (I think Saraqael is trying to hide the big miracle. She's showing the arc angels the book shop when it got reset by Adam in 2019.)

When Shax talks to Crowley and he takes off driving. When she appears, he is parked further up the street than when he leaves. Noticeably so. (POV? Or scenes out of order and this is a different time than it looks like?)

Edinburgh castle -- when Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh, the castle is behind him. When the camera switches angles to behind him, Edinburgh castle is in front of him. The street he is on (streets, actually) are real streets. The castle was put in the first shot deliberately, but exists for real in the second shot. (POV)

Edinburgh streets -- when Aziraphale arrives in Edinburgh, the street he parks on is cobblestone. When the camera switches to behind him, the street is paved. (POV)

Weird sounds of all kinds?? (POV? Some of them yes.)

Crowley's sunglasses. Could this be explained by POV switches? If so, why do they change halfway through and then stay that way?

Questions about things the characters do:

Where did Crowley go during the Job flashback? And why was he wearing his spy turtleneck? (To meet up with Saraqael, perhaps? Seeing as Shax interrupted their meeting earlier that day?)

Where else did Aziraphale go in Edinburgh? And why did he go to the graveyard?

What did Gabriel need to bring to Aziraphale? What happened to it? (God's voice? A message from god? The Book of Life?)

Why does Micheal do the magician's "nothing in the box" display with the matchbox? It's a very specific action. Something's in that up with that damn matchbox. We're being asked to look at it, while something else happens that we're missing. And someone noticed that her nails are in terrible shape when she does it, but our eyes are on the matchbox.

What else did the Metatron say to Aziraphale? (Anything? Are we getting the whole, accurate story? Most of it? Any of it?)

How long was Crowley in Heaven, and what happened while he was there? (Did he sneak around and steal something? Did they harm him? He's acting a bit weird when he comes back.)

What happened to Aziraphale's briefcase? The one he took to Edinburgh. Where he did who knows what. (Is that a POV thing??)

What, if anything, is wrong with Crowley's memory? (Or is he just dissing Furfur and Saraqael?) (OR! Given the Gabriel removed HIS OWN MEMORY AND PUT IT IN THE FLY, so apparently angels ((AND demons??)) can affect their own memories, did Crowley deliberately do something to himself to get rid of unwanted memories??? He seems pretty untroubled by not remembering Furfur or Saraqael or why they made gravity -- almost as if he doesn't care the memories are gone. Okay, maybe he's gotten rid of some memories himself, but then WHY??) This could be a big old nothingburger. Or is he dissing Furfur and offering plausible deniability that he's met with Saraqael before -- like, when he was wearing his spy turtle neck??

What is Shax's mission? She says she's Crowley's replacement, but then she asks for "what she needs" from Crowley on the bench. Huh? What does she need?

How does Crowley know about hand washing in the Resurrectionists minisode? (This strikes different than the "lead ballon" remark on the wall. It's hard to say if Crowley knows about lead balloons, or if they're speaking an angelic language and it's being translated for us and the translator has a sense of humor or is trying to convey Crowley's sense of humor. The hand washing is actual, concrete, specific knowledge of the future.) Ah, I just re-read the book, where he mentions helicopters to DaVinci, and also Neil said this. It's something Crowley can do. He's a demon, he knows things.

What is going on with Maggie? I don't think she's a demon, but there is something up with her. (Also, one of the men in the graveyard in Edinburgh has a tattoo that says "no regerts." That's a real tattoo that circulates around the internet every once in a while -- I think it's a subtle reminder that humans aren't necessarily great at spelling, either.) But she has a Mason symbol on her necklace, and I still think the Masons are significant somehow; Aziraphale can't miracle-influence her; Aziraphale expects her to feel the arc angels arriving.

Why does Gabriel speak with god's voice? (Was that what he needed to bring? That message? But he says he needs to give Aziraphale something, and both times he speaks in god's voice, it's to Crowley. Hmm. IS that God's voice? It's a woman, but who is it?)

How did the pub owner recognize Gabriel's picture so fast? He says himself, "Look pal, I see a lot of people -- oh, yeah, I remember him!" ?? Was it just because Gabriel was weird at him?

Why is Crowley throwing books? It gives us a laugh, but is there a reason for it? He even seems confused as to why he's carrying them right before he does. (This is a POV thing -- the lens is "Aziraphale's" lens, so I think we're seeing Crowley tell Aziraphale what happened while Aziraphale was gone, and how Aziraphale imagines it would go.)

Why is Saraqael the only angel to react with fear before anyone else recognizes the Metatron? (Is it because she's been working WITH Gabriel, Beelzebub, AND Crowley and Aziraphale to thwart the second attempt at ending the world? Neil says he had some secret things for Sandalphon to do, but the actor wasn't available, so Saraqael does some of those things instead . . .)

Aziraphale gently laughs at Muriel's Inspector Constable persona, but then IMMEDIATELY adopts a just as over-the-top reporter persona. Is he doing it deliberately, or is he that un-self-aware? If he's doing it deliberately, why? Who's he trying to convince he's not that savvy? The pub owner? Anyone who might be spying? US?? Is that a POV thing? And if so, whose?? (AHA! I think this is Aziraphale telling Crowley what happened, and Crowley picturing Aziraphale being adorable in his disguise. Aziraphale is not that silly actually, but probably not as slick as he wants to think.)

Why the heck did Maggie and Nina go talk to Crowley while the Metatron was talking to Aziraphale? What they had to say wasn't important enough to leave Nina's shop during a rush, and I definitely don't think they derailed Crowley from what he needed to say to Aziraphale, though it might look at first as if they did. So what was that about?

When Shax stops Aziraphale for a ride, he says, "Oh, I really need to get to --" and then is cut off. He really needs to get to where? It's an easy assumption to think he means the book shop, or London. But is that all he means? Or was he on his way somewhere else? And if it was just the book shop, what does he mean he's late? Late for what? And that lens is still Crowley's lens -- Aziraphale is relating the story to Crowley. Crowley also knows where Aziraphale was going besides Edinburgh.

Crowley can tell something is wrong. Something. What?

Good God, this questions list just keeps getting longer. Why would the Metatron allow Beelzebub and Gabriel to leave, after trying to stop Armageddon 2.0, but come after Crowley and Aziraphale like that? Just because of the big miracle? (Which I'm not sure they did.)

Why does Crowley say "Oh, God," right before his confession in the final fifteen? To let Aziraphale know that he understands what Aziraphale is saying? That God (or the Voice) is there? Seems possible.

Why didn't Gabriel come down the lift in the Dirty Donkey? He also says he had to carry that box for sooo long. Where was he wandering around?

When Crowley leaves Heaven, he tells Saraqael and Muriel to come, too. But in the elevator, Michael and Uriel are there! When the fuck did they show up??

The whole time Aziraphale is in Maggie's shop asking about Every Day, he is looking out the windows and is VERY nervous. Is he just concerned about leaving Gabriel on his own, or is he nervous about something specific? He does react to the car horn outside as others have noted, but he is already jumpy and checking the windows repeatedly, the car horn isn't anything particular, he's just already fixated on the windows.

Why does Beelzebub tell Shax to attack the bookstore? Aren't they worried about Gabriel being harmed? And they know Hell is understaffed. Maybe that's why they command it? Because they know Shax won't be able to get the demons?

Questions about the world:

What about the Masons? It's such a specific thing for the pub owner to bring up, what is the meaning of it? And Maggie has a Mason symbol on her necklace. Did the Masons carve the statue of Gabriel? When did they see him?

The only narration we hear in the entire season is Aziraphale in the Resurrectionist flashback. Why? (Maybe to throw us off? I think we have multiple POV characters in season 2, not just Aziraphale, but we only hear Aziraphale so we assume he's the POV for the entire season. But still, why do we only hear him narrate 1 flashback? Argh, is he reading the diary to himself in the present day? That would explain the end, "And that was the last I was to see of Crowley for some time." If he is reading it in the present day, why? What made him think to go back to THAT entry?? Oh, duh! He JUST heard the story of the jukebox from Maggie. And Gabriel appearing -- same city that statue is in. Of course he thought of something important from that diary entry! Now, what did he notice?)

Is the Book of Life a real threat? We hear two stories about it, that it's real and that its ability to erase beings was something to scare the cherubs with, this is inconclusive. Crowley gets nervous after Beelzebub talks to him, but he could just be upset that their little break is interrupted, and now Heaven and Hell have taken an interest in them again.

Is reality fucked up? How? Whickber street bubble, Aziraphale's power turned up (how?), etc.? A LOT of it is POV shifts!

Job 41:19 on the matchbox: 1941?? YES. Bullet catch/kiss scene!

Where TF is God? "There was nothing for Her to do" my ass. She narrates. That's it. So there was nothing for her to narrate? Hm. (Because there was a host of other narrators? Are the Crowley/Aziraphale through the ages flashbacks in S1 narrated by God? I don't think they are, but I need to rewatch. They are not! And they aren't narrated by God because Crowely and Aziraphale are the POV characters in them.)

So many promo posters show Aziraphale, Crowley, and Jimbriel together, or symbols of them. Three feathers: two white, one black. Tea cup, cocoa mug, wine glass. The three of them. Not with Beelzebub, not with Muriel, the three of them. And all three of them have been Jesus-coded in some small way. No one else. Those three. What. Why. Are they the sacrifice required to bring about the new world? Why not Beez, then?

Wait. Two Crowleys?? WTF. There are two Crowley puppets in the magic shop, and Crowley doesn't remember Saraqael or Furfur. Is he dissing them, or is that the second Crowley that never did meet either of them? Am I insane? I have no theory here, just some wild speculation that needs a lot more time to simmer. Two actual Crowleys, or two ideas of Crowley? Or something to hurt my head?

Why are they in a cave in the opening sequence? The guy who made the opening sequence says they are in the fly that Gabriel stores his memory in. Okay, why? And Crowley lights a match to see. Hm. What else was in that fly that Gabriel didn't take when he got his memory out?

An album on the wall in Maggie's shop says "Rat Keith." This seems to me to be an allusion to The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents, by Terry Pratchett. In the book, some men have tied several rats' tails together to create a rat king that keeps the wild rats under control -- except that the rat king has too much power and is doing way more than just that. People die. So who's been given too much power and is now running the show instead of being a puppet? The Metatron, perhaps? Hm . . . Also, Keith is the young boy who plays the part of the Pied Piper for Maurice's scam. He leads all the rats out of town, never mind that the rats can talk and are in on the scam.

Things I think I know:

NEIL GAIMAN IS A LYING LIAR WHO LIES. Except when he's dropping hints or answering straight out. All of his answers to anything anyone asks about GO are suspect at best. (I cannot blame him or anyone else on the cast or crew -- they spent A LOT of time and energy building this very meticulous puzzle game for us -- why would ANY of them give ANY of it away? That would ruin all the fun!)

God has been removed/has vacated. Where did she go? I wonder if anyone knows. Is She just standing back and watching? In the book, Crowley says that anyone who can create a whole universe in six days doesn't let a war of rebellion happen unless they want it to. But that he and Aziraphale wouldn't understand, because if they understood, they wouldn't be them. It's INEFFABLE. He also then FORGETS what he was talking about a minute later.

God doesn't narrate because She's busy being Maggie. Aha!

The Metatron is working for himself. The dice on his tie seem to imply that while God does not play dice with the universe, this jerk surely does. Also, see the rat king observation above, #10.

Gabriel was bringing Aziraphale a message, the box is a red herring. But that brings me to another thing I suspect -- there was something else in the box, and the box is deeply important. Ah, damn -- is that what Crowley gave to Aziraphale in the kiss? Whatever was in the box? Was that what he found out while he was in Heaven? What Gabriel took? Did Gabriel put it in the fly with his memory?

Heaven did something bad to Crowley while he was there. That coffee is a red herring to draw our eye away from him. But that brings me to something else I suspect -- Crowley's knackered and a bit off when he returns from his TEN HOUR JAUNT in Heaven not because they did anything bad to him, but because he stole something very important. Maybe the thing he gives to Aziraphale during the break up?

Crowley and Aziraphale did NOT perform a huge miracle. I don't know what happened, but it wasn't them working together. (Or did they? Are angels and demons more powerful together? Did the Fall create a schism between them that weakened them all? Or are they and Saraqael hiding who did do the big miracle?)

This is a 2 man con. Of course it's a 2 man con. I read American Gods. Crowely and Aziraphale have a plan. This might be version B or C, they might be springing it sooner than they hoped, but that break up was a ruse. A hard, painful ruse, but a ruse. They knew their respite would be short-lived, they've been putting something together for years now.

Crowley put something in Aziraphale's mouth during the kiss. I don't know what, but something he had to swallow. obligateweirdo pointed out that he seems to palm something out of his mouth when he touches his lips the second time, and that Houdini's wife used to slip him the keys to his cuffs with a kiss before his shows. Whatever Crowley gave Aziraphale, it's physical. And Michael Sheen has said he doesn't want to share what's in Aziraphale's pockets -- because Aziraphale put whatever Crowley gave him into a pocket?? Was it the fly? (But didn't that go into Gabriel's eye and stay there?) And if it was the fly, what was inside it?

Gabriel went somewhere else before he went to the book shop. He didn't come down the elevator at the Dirty Donkey. Did he go to Edinburgh? Is that why the pub owner recognized that picture so fast? "Oi! That's that naked bloke was in here last week!" (Or was him walking down the street because we first see him from Nina or Maggie's perspective?? POV muckery?)

SECRET SONGS??? Why are the songs secret?? I'm losing my mind, what is happening??

Several narrators. I'm not even sure how many, but we're seeing the world through the eyes of characters, not God or a faceless narrator. This is part of why things are weird. I don't think that's the full explanation for the whole season, but I think it's a big part of the weirdness. A book that comes up often in the show is The Crow Road by Ian Banks. A brief description of the book says that it is written from the point of view of several characters and the story is told out of order and in no particular fashion, with changes from character to character POV coming at no particular interval and with no warning. AHA! (I did come up with the idea before I saw this post, but @highlandwhackamole beat me to writing it. Well done!) NOW I'm wondering if we aren't also seeing the story as told by the characters we see, but as heard but an as-yet unknown character . . .

The scenes are out of order. The DAMN SCENES ARE OUT OF ORDER! I don't know their correct order, but they are out of order. The Crow Road, again, is told out of order, forcing the reader to piece the scenes together (from a brief description, I'm thinking more and more I need to read this book rather than try to skim it). Is it as simple as watching the scenes in chronological order??

Our angel and demon have hidden something in the book shop. Something important. I have no current guesses as to what. Crowley still has his crank from starting up the nebula. What else might he have taken with him? Is that it? Or something else? HOLY SHIT ARE THEY HIDING JESUS??? Is THAT who did the miracle??

When Aziraphale tells Crowley that their Gabriel miracle set off alarms in Heaven, he sort of raises his eyebrows and says it in the same way he says other things he doesn't mean -- the same tone he says "I forgive you" after the Kiss, or how he says "He says he's Bildad the Shuite," in the Job minisode. It wasn't the Gabriel miracle that set off alarms in Heaven, it was whatever Saraqael was doing, or whoever Saraqael is hiding, and Crowley is well aware of it and whatever Saraqael is up to. Aziraphale just told Crowley that they have to take responsibility for whatever Saraqael did to allay Heaven's suspicions. They are talking in code through more of this season than we first think.

The rainbow lens flairs sure look like eyes. Like a pupil and iris. Is this a subtle hint that we are seeing through someone else's eyes?

When Crowley and Aziraphale argue about what to do with Jimbriel, behind Aziraphale is a privacy screen, and behind Crowley is an open door. Does this reflect how each of them feels, that Aziraphale believes they are speaking in private and Crowley believes they are being listened in on?

Repeating themes:

Beverages of all kinds -- tea for Aziraphale, wine or whiskey for Crowley, cocoa for Jim.

Time -- lots of clocks/mentions of time

Love/partnership/togetherness being stronger than separateness

Queer couples -- is literally everyone in season 2 in a non-cis-het relationship?? Even the guy in the graveyard says he uses his phone for Grindr -- a gay men's dating hook-up app. Nothing wrong with it, but it's an interesting writing choice. Why? Equality and representation -- or a Clue? (I think it's a POV Clue!)

Memories/forgetting/remembering

Payment -- money comes up in both the Resurrectionists minisode and the Flesh Eating Nazi Zombies minisode, but no one pays for anything in present. There is bartering, but no money.

Rising from the dead -- Job's kids (even though they weren't actually dead), bodies used for science, Nazi zombies, the Second Coming.

Unreliable narrators

Death in general -- but 9a., I'm a dirty pagan, why didn't I make this connection sooner, death always leads to REBIRTH, change, something totally new and 9b. there are tarot cards in the magic shop, and even if you're not a dirty pagan, the Death tarot card means transition, something must die before a new thing can be born. Hmmmm.

Morality and what is "good" and what is right

Recognition and identity

Repeating words and phrases OMG the list goes on:

Technically

Properly

Isn't it just?

Too late

Funny old world

Not as such

Made for each other

EVERYWHERE

Obviously

Hints:

Powell and Pressburg films

The Crow Road

Catch 22

The Amazing Maurice and his Educated Rodents, Terry Pratchett in general

Jane Austin

Book Good Omens

The titles of episodes, minisodes, places, etc. 7a. The Arrival: a book and a movie, though the book seems far more relevant. And lovely. The Clue: a movie. Companion to Owls: a line from a Bible story. I Know Where I'm Going: a movie. The Resurrectionists: two novels, each called The Resurrectionist, singular. Both look unhinged. The Hitchhiker: a Twilight Zone episode. Nazi Zombie Flesheaters: Literally no other reference. ?? Nazi Zombies do appear in a LOT of movies, comics, and video games, usually as a dark joke. The Ball: a video game. Irrelevant? It's a puzzle-based game, so maybe not. Every Day: a song AND a movie. Some themes repeat here: Puzzle games, being re-directed from one's path to find true love, death and being brought back to life in a gruesome and unpleasant way.

That's what I have so far. I'll try to update with new ideas and information, as well as links to things that support my theories as I find them.

[earnestattempts]

I started a story podcast! The first series is about people at high risk for covid-19, and what their (well, our) lives are like. Trying to capture beauty and meaning in lives often ignored! Transcripts provided for every episode. Check it out here.

Ep 1: MIRA - Mira is someone very accustomed to navigating the world with chronic pain and fatigue. From all appearances, she should be able to handle what the pandemic brings to her life. But she finds herself unprepared for the way the people around her changed. 23 mins. Ep 2: GREG - Greg and Kay live in a queer little bubble in the first years of the covid-19 pandemic. But when Kay's egg cracks, Greg is filled with mixed feelings. How does this change his identity as a gay man? And are his health needs holding her back? 21 mins. Ep 3: RUSS - Russ remembers his childhood of chronic illness and shame, as he watches his kids becoming more and more separated from their peers. As the world starts returning to the classroom, Russ and his wife Neive try to figure out what their family's future is going to look like. 23 mins. Ep 4: CORY - A brush with death made Cory committed to living her life to the fullest. But repeated covid-19 infections start to take that away from her. How could this happen to a seemingly healthy person like her? 19 mins. Ep 5: SIMON - This isn't the way retirement is supposed to go. After the loss of his wife, Simon has to process the life he'll never have. And now he has a sudden new roommate, a younger disabled relative who moved in to help out. Can they learn to adapt to the world together as covid-19 rapidly changes it? 26 mins. Ep 6: MAY - May looks in reflections and in blurry photos, for a self they loved before...They used to love the way they looked, but masking in a hostile world slowly undid that. When they first transitioned, they took photos of themself to find their way through dysphoria. Now they try to do the same, to learn how to like this new version of themself. 19 mins.

Ep7: SANDRA - How did everything slip away from Sandra, how did she let it all slip away. She didn't know what was happening to her. A fog rolled in over her mind, and a heaviness. 22 mins.

Ep8 ASPEN: "What, are they going to press masks together to kiss?" Aspen and Denis lived a lockdown love story at the very start of the pandemic. Years later, Aspen feels drawn back to him. But their lives moved in such opposite directions. Why did he feel this yearning? 22 mins.

And that's the finale for Season 1 (High Risk) of my podcast By The Wayside! But more stories about disabled & queer/trans people on the peripheries of life are coming, don't worry.

Listen to the whole season (~3 hrs of content) by subscribing on your preferred app, or RSS feed:

[laswells-ashtray]

Hello I hope you’re doing well ^^

You mentioned how Kate knows a freakish amount of muppets lore, has this ever lead to Laswell going off on a tirade after Shepard and or Price say something about the felt and fabric creatures.

I’m especially interested because we know that Price commonly calls folks muppets, I also just want Kate to scold Shepard for being an uncultured swine.

I really hope I’m not bothering with all these asks, I’m personally happy that someone sees Kate the same way I do. Just tell me if I’m ever annoying you, I fear being annoying to strangers online who I think are radically tubular.

=^.,.^=

You are never annoying me, I love asks especially Kate Laswell related asks. Also, I always look for an excuse to talk about the Muppets.

Making John work with an incredibly professional follow-all rules French man is probably not Kate's smartest idea but neither was the drunken karaoke she did in college so she moves on. John can't.

"Fuck sake, he talks like that stupid fucking frog from that bloody Muppets movie Soap kept playing the other night."

She barely restrains a snort, she'd heard about the sergeant's antics. He'd put on a Muppets movie in their common room and bolted with the TV remote to ensure that neither of the other three men could turn it off. It had been an act if protest of some kind, she hadn't bothered listening that much.

"Frog was Russian." She corrects him without thinking. She's an aunt, of course, she's seen Muppets Most Wanted.

John's head whips around to her with a speed that had to have hurt his neck. "What?"

"The frog was Russian." She repeats.

"Why do you know that?" He asks almost instantly.

She answers him with the same voice she uses to deliver intel of high importance. "His name was Constantine and he was serving time in a Siberian gulag. The frog was Russian."

"That's not what I- Nevermind. The frog was Russian. Frenchman is still a cunt."

"Noted."

Also, because I think I'm funny:

She doesn't like eating her lunch in the vicinity of Shepherd but this is the only time to eat with everything they have at stake right now, they can't leave in case John makes contact. And Shepherd is doing a fucking crossword. A crossword.

She watches Shepherd squint at the newspaper on the table in front of him, muttering under her breath. "The fucking Muppets? Jesus."

She glances over, reading the question as she swallows a bit of pasta. Country guest star on season five, episode 21 of The Muppet Show. Well, it isn't exactly a hard hint, is it?

"Johnny Cash."

Shepherd looks up at her with an uncharacteristic confusion, "What?"

"Answer is Johnny Cash, he was the guest star."

The man looks down at the crossword and she can see him mentally filling in the letters to see if she's correct. She is.

"Huh." The general fills in the answer before looking back to her with a curious expression that he fails to hide. "Would've thought it was Willie Nelson, how'd you know?"

"Willie Nelson never appeared on The Muppet Show, he only showed up in The Muppets in 2016. Cash did The Muppet Show in 1980." She answers, returning her attention to the half-decent pasta in front of her.

"How'd you remember that?" His tone is almost accusing, as if she was lying or being honest to spite him. Bald prick.

"He sang Ghost Riders in the Sky with Mrs Piggy, one of the nieces likes rewatching the show." That's a lie, Kate rewatched it on the rare occasions she indulged in a joint with Sarah.

"Your kids never watch it?"

He didn't talk to either of his kids, they both knew that.

"Hmph."

[theflowergothic]

Kelly Piquet Master Timeline - Amendment 1 (Some things I missed the first time around)

(Masterlist)

Hey y'all! Welcome to the first amendment for the Kelly timeline! In these amendments, I will be adding things that happened during already-published parts of the timeline, but did not add before for a variety of reasons (not knowing about it, not having proof for it before, etc).

Sorry this took a bit to release. I've been dealing with a bit of irl stuff this past week that took my attention away from working on Max/Kelly things aside from updates to the timeline. In fact, you might have seen me crack on Twitter over it! Yay!

By the way, you may notice some repeats from the official timeline. Those are events that I did cover in the original, but with new information/context that I initially missed.

Let's go!

As always, you can find the full timeline here.

A new person has entered the grid!

Christiano “Tuka” Rocha: A former Brazilian race car driver Kelly considers her first love. The two would remain in touch until his tragic death in a plane crash in 2019.

1999

March-October, 1999: The 1999 F1 season. Jos serves as a test driver for the Honda Formula 1 Project.

2000

Unknown dates, 2000:

Kelly and Tuka meet. She is most likely 11 and he is most likely 18.

2002

Unknown dates, 2002:

Tuka visits Kelly and her family while she is visiting France. She is most likely 13 and he is most likely 20. (Archive)

2004

May, 2004: The Jordan racing team considers Jos as a replacement driver for an underperforming Giorgio Pantano. But, a test drive is canceled after he discovers he is too big to fit in the car.

2012

November 10-11, 2012: Max has a series of flirty/amorous exchanges with former world karting champion Laura Tillett on Twitter. She is 21 and he is 15. (Archive) 

December 7-10, 2012: Max has more flirty exchanges with Laura Tillett on Twitter. She is still 21 and he is still 15.

2015

September 30, 2015: Max turns 18. He spends the day obtaining his road driving license. He would move to Monaco shortly afterwards. (Archive 1, 2)

Mikaela also posts on Twitter to celebrate Max’s birthday, calling him her “love”. (Archive)

2016

December, 2016: Kelly leaves her job at Formula E. Officially, she claims she resigned because of burnout, mentioning she “was literally on a plane every week” to a new destination. But, unconfirmed rumors claim she was fired for sleeping with a married man. (Archive)

2018

September 14, 2018:  Kelly likes an Instagram post by Victoria. This would be her first of many likes on Victoria’s Instagram.

September 23, 2018: Victoria likes an Instagram post by Kelly. This would be her first of many likes on Kelly’s Instagram.

September 30, 2018: Max turns 21. Lando makes an Instagram post wishing him a happy birthday. It is not liked by Max, but it is liked by Kelly.

October, 2018: Kelly likes several more of Lando’s Instagram posts.

Late October-Early November, 2018: Kelly and Daniil’s daughter is conceived.

November 13, 2018: Lando makes an Instagram post celebrating his 19th birthday. It would be liked by Kelly.

2019

January 8, 2019: Lando likes an Instagram post by Kelly. This would turn out to be one of several posts he would like on her account throughout 2019 and 2020, including a post about breastfeeding.

March 17, 2019: Lando makes his F1 debut at the 2019 Australian Grand Prix, driving for McLaren. He would finish in 12th place. At this point, he is 19 years old. (Archive)

On the same day, Victoria likes a post by Kelly. She would proceed to like several more posts on Kelly’s account throughout her pregnancy, with Sophie doing the same on some of the same posts.

November 14, 2019: Tuka is seriously injured in an airplane crash near Bahia, Brazil. (Archive)

November 17, 2019: Tuka succumbs to his injuries sustained in the plane crash at the age of 36. He is memorialized as a hero for trying to save the lives of others  in the same crash. (Archive)

November 19, 2019: Kelly makes a memorial post for Tuka on Instagram, calling him her “first love” and mentioning he made her “feel like the most special girl in the world” and “feel very special feelings”. (Archive)

December 4, 2019:  Daniil makes an Instagram post about the end of the F1 season. Kelly likes the post. It would turn out to be her last like on his account.

December 6, 2019 (Most likely): Kelly and Daniil end their relationship. While Kelly makes a since-deleted Instagram post implying she broke up with Daniil, varioussources claim it was Daniil who broke up with Kelly for a variety of reasons.

2020

Unknown dates, 2020:

Max and Dilara break up. Despite that, Victoria, Sophie, and Jos continue to follow her on Instagram. Daniil would also follow her at a later date.

January 31, 2020: Kelly likes another Instagram post by Max. This would turn out to be one of several posts she would like on his account throughout 2020.

2021

July 16-18, 2021: The 2021 British Grand Prix. During the first lap, Lewis attempts to overtake Max, resulting in the latter retiring and going to the hospital after a collision. Max would be released that same day.. Lewis receives a 10-second penalty, but ultimately wins the race. (Archive)

Initial reports would say Max was unharmed in the collision. But, in subsequent interviews, Max would admit he felt the after-effects of it in races, including blurred vision. (Archive 1, 2)

September 3-5, 2021: The 2021 Dutch Grand Prix. Max achieves poll position and finishes first, starting a three-year winning streak at the race. (Archive)

Kelly leaves the race altogether after qualifying, and Max spends a night at his motorhome on the track. According to speculation, Kelly and Jos had a fight over her sharing photos in his residence. Jos unfollows Kelly on Instagram.

2023

Unknown dates, 2023:

An anonymous Tumblr user makes a summary of the rumors and scandals surrounding Kelly to that point. (Archive)

2024

June 21-23, 2024: The 2023 Spanish Grand Prix. Max starts in P2 and finishes first. This would turn out to be his last Grand Prix victory until November. (Archive)

June 28-30, 2024: The 2024 Austrian Grand Prix. Max finishes first in the Saturday sprint race. This would turn out to be his last victory in general until October. (Archive)

During the second half of the main race,  Lando makes multiple attempts to overtake Max. This culminates in a collision when the latter tries to block him. Lando would retire from the damage, and Max would place fifth. (Archive 1, 2) 

Of note is that while Kelly posted about Max’s pole positions and sprint win, she would not say anything about the results of the main race.

[splatooshy]

what kind of music/artists/bands do you think the scooby gang + the originals would listen to in the early seasons?

OH OH OH

well we know from canon that even without humanity, damon can & will listen to taylor swift without complaint. even though he’s perfectly capable of compelling a music change.

& he listens to depeche mode so he’s automatically cool.

i think the salvatores have very wide tastes, but not much overlap. stefan loves bon jovi to an unhealthy degree, and would probably have been a BIG beach boys fan back in the day. he’s totally over it now though, those records in his cupboard are purely decorative!! damon would love ABBA, head over heels reminds him of katherine & he uses it to outsource his emotions in his no humanity era. stefan tolerates it for lexi’s sake (damon thinks it’s unfortunate that he and lexi have similar music taste. it’s probably the only thing he likes about her). also the cure.

i think stefan cries to bon iver’s ‘roslyn’.

both stefan and damon would be into stevie nicks & florence + the machine & paramore & david bowie (damon in fact knew him rather well back in the seventies…) but in totally different ways. damon loves anthems & grooves, discordant sounds and triplet beats, while stefan digs a good beat & steady rhythm. with a fabulous guitar riff ofc.

bonnie is also a big paramore girly. also hozier. i think she and damon bond over similar music tastes.

caroline listens to taylor swift (fearless is her fav, red & 1989 are 2&3), one direction, jonas brothers, miley, britney etc. she bullies politely asks jeremy to let her use his tech stuff to make her own mixes. she also has a hot pink boombox that she takes to every cheer practice. it’s covered in stickers that won’t come off no matter how hard she tries. yes, vampire strength has been applied.

elena spent the three months between the crash & stefan blasting dean lewis in her bedroom. hozier, bon jovi to seem cool to stefan, janis joplin, probably some british pop like dexys midnight runners, ed sheeran, bastille. but that’s a secret she’ll take to her grave.

jeremy listens to 21 pilots, mcr, p!atd, bleachers (later seasons tho. don’t think they existed til 2015 or something), the neighbourhood, arctic monkeys, fallout boy, etc. probably listens to sheppard on repeat. geronimo just really speaks to him, okay?! absolutely does not copy damon’s taste in music, that’s just a coincidence!!! he’s also the source of elena’s secret love for british pop.

matt listens to elevator music. nah he just plays whatever’s on the radio. my truck is my girlfriend & my dog has fleas kind of country music? idk.

tyler has all of those mix cds like sofresh, each 00s / 90s genre, really does not care what he listens to as long as he can nod his head along.

alaric listens to 80s rock in a dad way & whatever damon plays because damon has dj rights everywhere & will push his way onto the aux.

not really in the gang but katherine listens to male manipulator music. and female manipulator music like ethel cain, fiona apple, etc.

the originals?

klaus listens to smooth jazz. and instrumental covers. he’ll text stefan a link to the lamest love song ever (instrumental) with the caption ‘this is our song’.

kol also listens to smooth jazz, but in a cool way. as well as 00s pop. he and rebekah fight over who discovered what song first. he would absolutely LOVE musicals. has the glee & hamilton soundtracks on his little ipod. BOY BANDS OMG kol has a backstreet boys poster confirmed. also 90s-00s hip hop / rap / pop hybrids. especially nelly furtado.

OH OH THE SHREK SOUNDTRACK. that’s his jam fr fr.

rebekah is a speak now girly through and through. ‘innocent’ is literally her song. she’s just so taylor swift. she would LOVE suki waterhouse, but that’s not for another few years. OH WAIT REBEKAH’S CANONICALLY ALIVE IN 2024. she absolutely listens to chappell roan and it DEFINITELY does not make her think of hayley, why would you say that???

elijah listens to eight hour long symphonies and concertas, but won’t complain if one of the others is hogging the aux. he will not be so childish as to dagger his siblings over music disputes, (klaus), or break their arms (rebekah), thank you very much. he only demands control of the music when damon’s trying to seduce him (succeeding), because elijah knows how to woo & be wooed in return. that includes the romantic playlist. also, damon has a very annoying habit of singing along & playing air guitar when the bridge hits just right, usually whilst there is a cock in his ass.

finn likes renaissance fair music. he considers it to be contemporary, as he was daggered during this period.

[creatingnikki]

Dear you at the start of 2024,

Hello, I'm here with insights and tea. You will have a lot of main character moments this year. Flying all the way to another city to meet a man you met online because you're this bold and hopeful woman who loves love and can actually take care of yourself even if things don't work out. Don't ever regret being that woman — the courage to believe in love despite all the prior bad experience, despite all the trauma and baggage you still haven't been able to clean your way out of, despite the shitty people out there — you are a sparky, smart, sweet person with so much capacity for love. Don't let people who break your heart shame you into hating you for your strengths and for taking a leap of faith.

Also, remember, sometimes people only break your expectations, not your heart. Love...it is something so vague and intangible and different for all. But for you? It's showing up. It's prioritizing the person's needs and emotions, being in sync with their thoughts and caring. Endless caring. So, if you take a minute and think about it, that boy you travelled over 500 miles for never loved you and baby you didn't quite love him either. You were on the path, both of you, yes. But neither got very far and it's frustrating and it sucks. But don't let yourself marinate in the misery of broken expectations for too long.

You will also make out with this really tall and hot guy in the middle of the dance floor at the club with everyone stopping and staring and you won't care because in those few minutes of drunk ecstasy everything will quiet down and it will feel like it's just you and him and all that sexual chemistry in between.

You will spend yet another week in the Summer in Delhi with your best friend and you will drink soju and eat tteokbokki and you will read many interesting lit fic books — this time from some v cool Indian authors too.

The space you were so restless for, you will be blessed with. And then you won't know what to do with it or yourself. You will keep feeling broken thinking that void, that God-shaped hole inside of you, is way too big and you will feel depressed and beyond repair. But when the seasons change you will give a reading club in a park in your neighbourhood a chance and you will make new friends. The 동네 친구들 (neighbourhood friends) like you had as a child you had been wanting again.

You will bake brownies at 2 am in the night and have your home smell like comfort. You will get that promotion at work and realize you've been in the workforce for long enough to be a reporting manager and it will feel amusing because you still sometimes feel like that 21 year old fresh out of college starting your first job. You will buy sunflowers for your friends and your mom and sometimes forget to buy flowers for yourself.

Patterns will keep repeating and you will struggle to break them. You'll want to get a hammer and smash them because the consistency with which you will fall back into them is frustrating and appalling. But that way you will only end up smashing your own crutches. So, you will have to learn to get out of them the way you learned to get out of the pool at seven — slowly, without haste, without slipping, and with grace.

My love, you will feel like ending this life but in a way you would turn off the computer at 10 when it was glitching — from the main switch. But you can't do that no matter how much you wish sometimes you could. Because you could always start the computer again the next day. And you always would. Hang in there because instead we are going to hit refresh.

I love you. I am getting better a loving you. When you are in December, you'll see. My words to you are kinder and there's so much less shame and guilt and disgust. So, you may not experience any major milestones in 2024, but you do know that this too is a pretty big thing? Being softer and more patient with yourself. And so I'd say it will end up being a pretty good year over all. Net good.

Love, The me at the end of 2024

PS You'll get through every single thing you feel like you won't. I promise.

[curlyhairedbooklover]

This is the second post of three collecting data about NBC Hannibal. This one details the times that Will, Hannibal, Jack, and Alana say each other’s names, the first focused on just Will and Hannibal and the third is actually about the gender split of the murders committed in the show! So check out the other two if you enjoy this one!! 

Very quickly I’ll go over the format! I was particularly interested in what form of name people used so it’s split into first name, title, and full name (slightly varying depending on the needs of each table) as well as whether the character is speaking directly to the person whose name they are saying or if it’s to anyone else!

Adding a disclaimer that I did this for fun so I haven’t double checked it meaning there may be some mistakes, but I tried my best! 😌

Starting off with Will again (he is my favourite) he says Jack’s name A Lot (ultimately less than Hannibal’s but it’s closer than you’d think…) coming to 84 times across the entire show! Astoundingly 73 of those times are his first name, which for Will is unusual!! He also says most of those while speaking to Jack himself, mostly in s1&2 at 21 times both seasons and then only 10 times in s3 when he starts to become more withdrawn from Jack…. In fact the only time he calls Jack by his full name while talking to him is in s3!

Will uses Alana’s name comparatively less (and actually I was surprised by how little the other three said her name… they did not win at feminism on this day.) He uses her name only 14 times over the entire show and doesn’t even use her first name while talking to her until 2.7, which he only does 6 times in the show. The other two times he addresses her by name are as “Dr. Bloom” during s2. When talking about her he only uses her first name once (in s1), he uses her full name three times, once by just her title, and then in the pilot he calls her simply “Bloom” (which he also does to Jack that episode so obviously the writers were figuring something out there and decided it did not work, thank fuck!) 

Hannibal on the other hand does increase those name counts though not by much!! He uses Jack’s name 90 times across the show, again mostly in s1&2 at 40 and 34 times, he also drops in s3 going down to only 16 times. He is also more likely to use Jack’s first name while talking to him staying fairly consistent across the whole show and the same can be said when he’s talking to others except in s3 where it drops down to 2 times with both occurring in the last episode! In fact the only other time he uses Jack’s name while talking about him in s3 is his full name in a letter to Will in 3.8 (the other note on the data in 3.4 also indicates a letter.) He is the only character to call him “Agent Jack Crawford” though he only does so 3 times, all in the first 3 episodes of the show. He did throw out an “Uncle Jack Crawford” in the pilot which while enough for me to give it it’s own column was then never repeated again 🤷‍♀️.

Hannibal also rarely uses Alana’s name. In fact it's only 16 times over the course of the show, though at least he always uses her first name while talking to her! However only one of  those times was while they were having sex... On that train he unsurprisingly uses Will’s name 6 times either immediately before or after kissing/having sex with Alana, and the one time he uses hers in that scenario is when he realises that she has been using a gun and no longer trusts him…. That is also the only time that Alana brings Will up first in these conversations. But back to just Alana, he mostly uses her first name when talking to her in s3, where he’s likely tying to rile her up, which happens 5 times! When talking about her across the show he’s pretty evenly split between her first name, title and full name at 3, 2 and, 2 respectively. But none of those times are in s3 and mostly occur in s1! He simply no longer cared enough to talk about her...

Jack actually follows the established pattern, using Will’s name the most, then Hannibal’s and lastly Alana’s…. He says Will’s name 143 times in the show and 98 of those times are his first name! He uses it slightly more when talking to people than while talking to Will but only by 4 times! Though they were mostly in s1, when talking to Will he used it 27 times and 21 times when talking about Will to others, with 14 of those times being in the last two episodes of the season! He also uses Will’s full name 22 times while talking about him to others that season, which drops to 11 times in s2. Notably 2 of the 4 times he uses Will’s full name in his presence are when introducing him to other characters in s2, the other two are in the first and last episode of s1 when he was unfamiliar with him and then distrustful of him. By s3 he only uses Will’s name 19 times though at least almost half of them are his first name while talking to him while he only uses his full name 3 times and all while talking to others as even here he prefers to use Will’s first name when referring to him.

In comparison Jack uses Hannibal’s first name only 23 times over the course of the show. When talking to Hannibal he uses his first name the most in s2 making up 4 of the 5 times he does that. Whereas he uses his first name 8 times in both s2&3 in conversation about him (although one of those times is “Hannibal the Cannibal” in 3.4….) He is also prone to calling him by just “Dr.” while talking to him so much so that I had to create an entire column for it though he mostly does so in s1, going from 12 times to 6 times to just 2 times over the course of the seasons. When collecting this data initially I was actually very interested in how many times Jack would call him simply “Lecter” which he only did while talking about him and only 4 times in the entire show! I’d thought it would be more but alas! Though apart from the pilot episode they are all at least after he know about the murder and cannibalism 😌. 

Unfortunately Jack also rarely said Alana’s name and in fact didn’t say it one time in s3! Outrageous!! The few times he does say it it tends to be while talking to her (11 times) and her first name (7 of times) so there is at least that! He also calls her “Dr. Bloom” 4 times and most of those in s1. But while talking about her he only ever uses her full name or title and never her first name, again all but one of these are in s1! Sadly that’s really all there is to say there! 

Now we come to Alana who has been so unfairly treated by the other characters!! Though in keeping with that she says their names the least of any character as well! She uses Will’s name 54 times over the series, only 15 of those times are while talking to him and 2 are his full name!! (Though those are during the trial in s2a.) She uses his first name the most in s2 while talking both to him and about him, coming in at 7 times and 20 times respectively. Interestingly she was using his first name while talking to him more in the first half of the season and doing it while talking about him more in the second half of the season, which is also when she starts to use his full name most. One of those times was after having sex with Hannibal, in fact she uses Will’s first name 4 times in those conversations, which really shows us that their romantic relationship was more about Will than it was about them (and also about getting an alibi on Hannibal’s end…)  

She (like Will) says Hannibal’s name the most compared to the others at 65 times! The bulk of these are in s3 at 33 times however she uses it 22 times in s2 and a measly 10 in s1. 40 of those times are his first name when talking to others which follows the same pattern while she only uses his first name while talking to him 12 times over the series….. But the only other time she addresses him by name is in 1.4 and it’s by calling him “Dr.”! She occasionally uses his full name or title when talking about him and only full names him in s2&3 but unlike Jack never calls him by just “Lecter”.

She only uses Jack’s name 36 times and they do tend to be his first name. She only uses his full name 4 times and they’re all while talking about him spread sparingly across the seasons. In s1&2 she uses his first name the same amount while talking to him and talking to others, 6 times each in s1 and 7 in s2, whereas in s3 she only uses his name while talking to him once opposed to the 5 times she does so while talking about him. 

Overall this table has taught us that the three guys are always saying each other’s names and leaving Alana out of it!!

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3)