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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 months ago

Text

bonfire. l Joel Miller

Summary: some things just happen

Warnings: fluff, angst (tones of sadness), Ellie is mean to Joel, Maria and Tommy are like that too, blood, clinic, tw: miscarriage

A/N: two chapters in two days. sorry. in my defense, i had this one written for a while, but i finished it today. a nice person asked me to break her heart. i'll just say this chapter is sad. if any of you have experienced a miscarriage, i'm so sorry. i can't imagine your pain. i hope you have support around you and you're not alone in this. maybe you'll hate me after this chapter… i expect that.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

The soft clinking of cutlery filled the living room of Tommy and Maria. The evening sun was streaming in through the large windows and you were all sitting at the table eating a really delicious roast. It was a nice evening.

"What's funny?" Joel asked, glancing at Ellie who was clearly trying to stifle her laughter.

Everyone's eyes focused intently on the girl who was chewing a bite of meat. "This is the third day you haven't tried to get rid of your stomach." she said, glancing at you.

"Ellie!" Joel groaned rolling his eyes but then he looked at you because you were clearly trying to stifle your laughter.

A chuckle spread through everyone and only Joel seemed disgusted.

"I'm sorry." you said once you calmed down. "I didn't think you counted that?"

"Of course! That was disgusting!" Ellie took a sip of water and put more baked potatoes on her plate.

"Maria had a similar one." Tommy mumbled and shrugged when Joel gave him a reprimanding look "What? Sometimes it's just like that!"

"Do we really have to talk about this over dinner?" Joel sighed resignedly.

Tommy winked at Ellie and the girl smiled broadly.

"What week are you in?" Maria asked, trying to feed her son who was sitting in a high chair at the table.

"Eighth? I think so." You answered uncertainly "I'm due in the middle of winter."

"It's not that bad." Maria wiped the baby's dirty wake "The little one will be quite big in the spring. You must be excited."

You and Joel exchanged quick glances. This issue still had the status of "it's complicated". Although you had already come to terms with what had happened to you to some extent, you still had many doubts and fears in your head. However, with Joel by your side, you knew you would cope.

Soon Tommy brought up the subject of Mr. Brosman's roof renovation and the conversation changed its course, allowing you to breathe a sigh of relief. Dinner went on at its own pace and only when you offered to help clear the table did Joel quickly get up.

"I can do that, no need for you to be worrying about that." he said, taking the plate from your hands.

"But I wanted to..." you started but quickly gave in.

"Man, I already knew you were obsessed with her but now that she's pregnant this stuff is a whole next level." Ellie snorted and Tommy grinned.

"He also has this stupid little smile that I have never seen before. When he looks at her, right?" Tommy added and you felt heat creep up your neck.

"Oh, please!" Maria groaned "Get off them! You're awful!"

Joel didn't answer, hastily collecting the dishes and taking them to the kitchen. When Ellie took his nephew for a walk, and you and Maria engaged in conversation, Tommy was next to him, handing him a glass of whiskey.

"So it's good?" he asked quietly "Between you two?"

Joel nodded. "She's still worried. So am I. But it's better." he took a sip "The doctor wants to see her next week."

"It'll be good, you'll see." Tommy tapped him on the shoulder "And how's the work on that thing going?"

Joel's thoughts ran to his studio, which he had at home. One of the rooms on the ground floor was designated as his own place. He hid there whenever he needed to think or rest. Between the pieces of wood and tools, he found peace and relief. You and Ellie rarely went there, respecting his space. But Joel had taken Tommy there recently to show him something.

The cradle he was building still needed a lot of work, but Joel had time - or so he thought. He tried to make even the smallest elements nicely decorated, so that the wood was suitably smooth, and the cradle itself was functional. He wanted to ask Ann to prepare bedding for the baby, maybe in a nice pattern, something that you would also like.

"I had to cover it with a sheet." Joel replied. "She was looking for a hammer recently and stormed in there."

"Oh! I get it." Tommy laughed, glancing at you and Maria sitting on the couch. "You know, I didn't think I'd ever see you like this again. Like I remember you back then."

Joel shifted uncomfortably, as if confused by his brother's words. He still felt uneasy when they talked about the past, about their previous lives. Tommy had to see that.

"I know it's not the same. But Joel, it's rare for someone to get a second chance at life. And you have it in your hands."

He watched as his brother finished his drink, then twirled the empty glass in his fingers as he spoke quietly. "I've been dreaming about her again lately. About Sarah." he mumbled quietly. "But this is different. She's different there. She's there too." he added, nodding his head in your direction. "Sometimes I wonder..."

"Sarah would love her, I'm sure of it." Tommy replied. "She'd be happy that there's someone who cares about you, that you're still alive, that you're happy. Because you have the right to be happy, Joel."

Ellie felt like her lungs were burning, but she didn't stop for a moment. Mr. Brosman’s house grew before her eyes, and on the roof she saw a man. She guessed it was Brad, because he was much more agile than Joel should be in such a place. The girl ran to the stairs when she heard a familiar voice.

"Ellie! Is something burning?" Tommy smiled at the sight of the girl, but when he saw her face he frowned "What's going on?"

"Joel!" Ellie gasped, struggling to catch her breath "Where's Joel?"

"Back of the house, but..."

Ellie ran off the porch and ran around the building. She saw Joel, preparing the boards that were to be installed on the roof, but when Ellie appeared in front of him, he froze.

She didn't have to say anything. Three words fell from his lips. "Where is she?"

He didn't remember the way to the clinic, which he ran halfway through with Ellie right behind him, who nervously told him the whole way what had happened.

"I was coming back with Dina when I saw her. She was kind of weird..." she said, gasping for breath, strands of hair sticking to her sweaty face. "When she saw me, she just said she had to go to the clinic, that she needed a doctor, and that I should find you."

"Was she hurt?" Joel growled.

"I don't know!"

Fuck! He shouldn't have left you. What didn't he foresee? What could have happened in those few hours?

The door slammed as he ran into the clinic and immediately spotted Ruth, an older woman who worked as a nurse. At the sight of Joel, she straightened up abruptly.

"Mr. Miller." she said, then glanced at the closed door. "You can't go there right now."

"What about her? What happened?" Joel panted, feeling the sweat running down his back.

"Doctor Morris is checking her out. I'm not sure..." she glanced at Ellie, who rushed in after Joel, gasping for breath. "We have to wait."

Every minute dragged on forever. There were no sounds from behind the door, only the floor creaked under Ellie's steps as she sat down on one of the chairs. Ruth tried to occupy herself with something, but the atmosphere was not helping. It was only after ten minutes that the door opened and Joel saw the doctor's familiar face.

"Mr. Miller." he sighed when he saw the man, then glanced at Ruth and nodded, "Please, get everything ready."

The woman must have known what Morris meant, because she quickly disappeared into the hallway. The doctor looked at Joel now.

"What about her? What's wrong?" he asked, feeling as if his tongue was refusing to obey him and his hands were icy cold.

"Joel... She came here with heavy bleeding. There were also severe cramps. She told me it started at home, but she managed to come here." Morris threw a quick glance at Ellie, who covered her mouth with her hand. Her dark eyes widened in fear. "I examined her. I didn't hear the baby's heartbeat. It must have stopped a few days ago. I’m so sorry."

"She hasn't had any nausea in a few days." Ellie blurted out.

"The symptoms that were going away were the beginning. Her body needed time to spontaneously miscarry."

He lost his breath for a moment, not understanding the doctor's words. When he spoke, his voice sounded distant. "Can I see her?"

Morris nodded. "We need to prepare for the procedure. We should try to avoid infection. Sure, sure... Come in, she needs you."

Step by step, he moved toward the door, whispering a quiet "Stay." to Ellie. He wasn't sure what he would see on the other side. He wanted to see you, but he wasn't sure if he would be ready for all of this.

You were there, sitting on the couch where you had listened to the heartbeat for the first time a while ago. He noticed your blood-stained pants lying on the floor. Ruth had to give you a towel, but it was already a little dirty with blood.

However, when you raised your head and looked at him, Joel felt as if someone had put a gun to his head.

"Joel..." you groaned, and he quickly approached you.

He took your face in his hands, looking at you carefully. Eyelids swollen from crying, your fingers showed traces of trying to wash the blood off. His head was empty.

"I don't know how it happened." you sobbed, and more tears ran down your cheeks. "I was darning Ellie's shirt, and when I got up... There was so much blood, so much blood..."

"Sweetie." he tried to interrupt you, but you tightened your fingers around his hands and didn't stop talking.

"I just changed and came here, but the doctor said... It's a good thing Ellie found you... He said the heart must have stopped beating a while ago. I didn't notice it. How could I not feel it?!"

"These things happen..." he said quietly, not knowing if you would even hear him.

"Morris said the same thing, but... Fuck!"

He hugged you tightly. It was all he could do. You clenched your hands in the t-shirt on his back, sobbing louder and louder. He couldn't find the words to say. His cheeks were wet with tears as well.

How was he supposed to help you now? He couldn't, he didn't know how. What had happened hit him with such force that he wasn't sure how he was supposed to become a pillar and support for you.

His hands were still shaking, so he clenched them into fists and closed his eyes, trying to calm the thoughts swirling in his head. In an instant, you had lost what you had been given. And now Dr. Morris was trying to keep you from getting infected, so you would survive.

How were you supposed to survive what had happened? And how was he supposed to be by your side? For a moment, he thought that Maria or Ann would be a better choice here. Any other woman, but not him.

His heart was still pounding in his chest as the door at the end of the hallway creaked open and Dr. Morris appeared. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, then he even tried to smile at Joel to reassure him.

"Everything looks good. I'd like her to stay here tonight though. Just to be safe, okay?" he said, and when Joel just nodded he walked over and sat down next to him, "Joel... Listen to me. These things happen. It's none of your fault and don't even think about it. We live in hard times. She's strong…" he paused for a moment, then sighed, "You'll get through this, but you have to be together and support each other. She needs care right now, she needs you..."

"What should I do? How should I talk to her?" Joel asked quietly, feeling his throat burn from the emotions he was suppressing.

"Allow yourself to feel the emotions. All of them. I will pray for you..."

When Tommy showed up at his brother's house, he didn't expect what he saw. His brother, one of the strongest guys he knew, was a wreck. His eyes were swollen from tears and he accepted the bottle of whiskey that he had brought with him with relief.

"She had to stay there, in the clinic. She's... She's devastated." Joel spoke, each word struggling to get through his throat "Morris said that things like this happen, but... Fuck. I can't understand it, Tommy! I just can't!"

"I don't know what to say..." he mumbled, squeezing the glass in his fingers and staring at the wall in front of him "It's just not fair."

Joel rubbed his face with his hand. He took a few sips and immediately poured himself more.

"Where's Ellie?" Tommy asked, noticing the strange silence in the house.

"At Dina's. It's good, she has support. It's hard for her too." Joel replied "When I got home I found traces of blood. Jesus Christ! She got upstairs and then went to the clinic. Alone! I should have been with her then and..."

"You couldn't have predicted this!" Tommy raised his voice even though tears appeared in his eyes "None of us considered this! The doctor is right!"

"Bullshit!" he stood up and nervously walked through the living room, then turned his back to his brother. Tommy noticed small spots of blood on his shirt that had to be yours. A quiet sob reached his ears.

He saw how his brother was suffering and would do anything to take this pain away from him. But he couldn't. Helplessness was eating him up.

That evening a bonfire lit up behind the house marked with a mailbox with the name Miller. Tommy didn't stop Joel. He didn't see the point. They both watched as the unfinished cradle was consumed by the fire until it turned to ash.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist, i think: @picketniffler @orcasoul @bbyanarchist @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @somedayheaven @underneath-the-sky-again @callmebyyournick-name

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #short stories from life #short stories from life series

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bunny-jpeg · 7 months ago

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hi, can i please order a profiteroles and a peanut butter bar with a side of a bloody mary for george russell? 🧛

bakery menu!!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! i'd love to hear from you, i love the orders i've gotten thank you to everyone who has submitted something!! i am very interested to do a vampire au, esp with the spooky season upon us!! <3

profiteroles: "come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go." + peanut butter bars: “scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.” + bloody mary: vampire au

cw: smut/pwp, vampire!george, gentle sex, human!reader, reference to blood & wounds, missionary position, praise

"what's that on your neck?" a friend asked while you were out to lunch. you made a face, knowing immediately what they were referring to. even with the make-up you applied, it still wasn't enough to cover the puncture holes and the bruising.

you simply covered your neck with a laugh, "oh c'mon, never seen a hickey before. and i thought you were the more experienced one." you tried to joke your way through an explanation.

your friend looked to your other friend on her right and raised her eyebrows. both women looked at each other for a moment before the first friend turned back to you, "alright then. next time i think you need a different shade."

you felt your cheeks grow hot, "thank you." you were going to kill your vampire boyfriend.

the first thing you noticed about george was those red eyes. you had never seen someone with red eyes. they pulled you in and rather than george being a master seducer, he was rather comfortable with making you laugh all evening until your face hurt from all the smiling.

you two quickly fell in love and the notion of him being a vampire didn't scare you off in any way. you thought it was cute when you saw his little fangs, you did feel bad that he had a habit of getting horribly sunburn.

"maybe it's because you're british." you said as you applied aloe vera on his shoulders after one afternoon at the beach. he held back a chuckle, you were a funny one.

he still loved to bite you, to taste the sweet crimson blood that coursed through your veins. he loved watching heat bloom in your face, he could feel the warmth even if he couldn't see the blush.

“scratch me, bite me, just mark me sweetheart. show them I’m yours.” he said one evening, the city was alive outside your apartment as your boyfriend's hand was up your skirt. he rested it on your thigh. like with entering a home that wasn't his, he needed to be allowed to touch closer to your heated core.

"is that because you make a mess of my neck?" you asked as you pinched him in the cheeks for a moment, "you want me to bite you in return?"

"it's only fair, isn't it?" he asked as his hand snaked a little further.

"how about you take me on a vacation. i've never been to rainy england, i'd love to see where you grew up."

"where i grew up is buried under new buildings or torn down. you know i've been alive for a long time." he kissed you on the cheek, "but you should come away with me. for a week, together. anywhere you want, we'll go. even england, but it'll look very different from when i was alive."

this man was supposed to be a monster, a creature of the night who ate up poor virgins. but he was gentle, kind. a compassionate lover. the years of being a vampire have made him kinder than most. he had seen beauty, but none quite like you.

so when you leaned in closer to kiss him on the cheek and said, "you can touch me, george." he was able to visibly relax a little. his large hand groped you behind while you were pulled to him and kissing him deeply.

your hands on the front of his shirt as the two of you kissed. you squirmed a little bit but he kept you close to him. his perfect girlfriend, most vampires were often possessive of human lovers. but, george loved you passionately. not with a level of possession. you weren't an item, you were his lover.

eventually you two ended up in the bedroom and george was more than happy to help you out of your clothes. even the little gold chain he gifted you. and you returned the favour, your delicate hands got the buttons of his shirt undone and his belt off. once he was naked along side you, he got you into bed. his hands took a hold of your face as he made you with you deeply. he watched you squirm a little and melt into his touch. you were beyond perfect, perfect in a way that he couldn't really put into words. you were a divine beauty who pulled him in.

"you have an ageless beauty." he smiled close to you, "the kind of beauty i am just simply drawn to." he rubbed up against you, "i'd say that it's the kind of face i've seen over so many lifetimes. but, i'd know if i had seen someone so beautiful before." he smiled at you.

he kissed the apple of your cheek and felt the heat under his lips. he was tempted, to taste such sweet warmth. he could only akin it to honey on a cold day, but he decided against it. he had already made enough of a mess to your pretty throat.

he laid you out on your back and admired the shape of your body. he licked his lips delicately, "more beautiful than midnight. stunning beyond words.' his words made you hot all over. he watched you squirm a little and he beamed.

"please, george. don't make me blush too much." you whined a little as he got his cock up against your slick cunt. he rubbed it a little to tease you, which only made you hotter.

he chuckled, "such a beautiful angel." he soon slid his cock into your achy cunt and watched your back arch a little. it was a beautiful sight, you looked divine under him.

"george." you whined.

he started to move at a comfortable pace. not hard, but faster that it made you feel hot all over. you felt the electricity in your body as he thrusted against you. his hands on your hips as he had a good hold on you.

"george." you said as you held over the covers under you. the comforting feeling of the blankets only added to the heat in your gut. you love the feeling of being so close to him. this wasn't how you imagined your life, making love to a vampire. but you'd never complain. not when the feeling of being with him was so intense.

"i love you." he said, after all this time on the earth. all this time, seeing so many sunrises and sunsets. so much of the planet. to be in bed with you was the more beautiful experience he could have. his kisses became hungrier, but not enough to sink his fangs into your lips. he didn't want to bruise such soft skin.

his pace picked up and he heard your muffled moans. it only encouraged him to keep going. he noticed how tightly you were holding onto the covers and really started to work your achy pussy. he loved the movements and sounds you made. they echoed in his mind as he shifted your hips a little to get at a better angle.

"i love you so much, george." you said with a tightness in your voice, you could feel the inferno in your stomach as he fucked you happily. the feeling of you two together was amazing.

"i love you more." he replied. you two would often 'argue' over who loved who more. but george knew you loved him. that you cared for him deeply. you were the personification of the humanity he had.

the pace became a little less focused and he groaned against you. he was chasing that high, the feeling of climax that made everything in him run painfully hot. you were perfect for him, beyond amazing. he loved you so much.

you held onto the covers tightly as he continued to move against you. you felt the thump of pleasure in the back of your mind as he moved against you. you whined and moaned as the pleasure washed over you. you tensed up against him and let out a loud moan.

you came with a sweet moan and it only spurred george on. he knew he was close to. his movements fast as he yearned for your sweet cunt. with a few more heavy thrusts he finished inside of you with a groan.

he looked at you, hands took a hold of yours as he held them down on the covers. he leaned in and gave you a searing kiss. the kind of kiss that made your stomach to a flip. you melted a little.

when he pulled away, he laid out beside you and rubbed your arm. he could feel the heat under your skin and relaxed at the feeling. it felt comforting, sweet almost. he said, "you're too good for me."

you giggled, "no way. you make me feel like a princess."

"why wouldn't i? you are a princess to me." he took your wrist and kissed it softly. even though he had a small urge to bite, but he wouldn't do it without your consent. so he would be content with the feeling of your pulse.

he looked at you and you looked at him. his red eyes called to you and soon you were kissing him once more. his eyes went wide for a moment before he closed them once more. he held you tightly. <3

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dejareves · 1 month ago

Text

the left side

from @human-otp-prompt-generator's Nightmare Comfort Dialogue Prompts

#4 - "Touch me. Feel my skin. I'm real, see?"

Words: 1,200

Rating: G

Pairing: Lucanis x Rook (x Spite)

Warnings: Endgame spoilers!

Once he notices the nightmares, Lucanis takes to always sleeping on the left side.

Rook is grateful but unyielding, whenever Spite offers to handle them. Well, "eat" them, which Lucanis supposes may not be the most comforting phrasing to open negotiations with. Regardless, her refusal is firm. "I think I'm just about set on having my head messed with for a while."

"We are not. the wolf."

"I know. It's not you. I just… I'm alright. I promise. Thank you, though."

So instead, Lucanis sleeps on the left. When she jerks upright in the dead of night, gasping, reaching blindly towards her hip—it is him she finds instead of the dagger she looks for.

Tonight, a sudden smack against his stomach, and Lucanis is awake.

"Rook."

She's trembling, skin goose-pimpled and damp with cold sweat when he reaches out to lay his palm against her back. A bad one, then. She doesn't answer. "Rook."

A held breath, and then the taut muscle beneath his hands relaxes. Barely.

"I'm sorry." She curls in a little when he sits to wrap himself around her, draws her knees up to her chest. The cadence of her breath is still too fast. "We really should switch sides."

"I like this side." A kiss to her shoulder, her temple. He waits until, at last, the tension begins to bleed out of her and she relaxes back against his chest.

We could end this. Spite, more and more frustrated with this every time it happens. Why does Rook not let us help? Let me help?

Internally, Lucanis sighs. They've talked about this, even if… well. It doesn't matter, if he and Spite agree. She doesn't.

Rook lets Lucanis ease her back down. She curls into his side. He thinks he'll never tire of it, the way she fits beneath his arm, the press of her cheek against his shoulder. Even like this, pensive in the dark as her breathing slowly evens out.

But he'd take it from her, if he could.

"The prison?" he asks, after a time.

Rook sighs. "Yeah."

"They seem to be coming more often, lately," he offers, carefully. If they are going to bring it up again, it'll need a… light touch.

"Do we have to?" she asks, monotone.

Lighter than that, evidently.

It's becoming increasingly familiar, now—the little catch in his throat when Spite wants to use their mouth to speak. So much easier than the choking, clawing feeling that had plagued him for so long. If Spite wants to try and argue with her—well. Better him than Lucanis, he supposes.

"Why do you. want. to keep them?"

Rook's head snaps up, whirling on them. "I do not want to keep them."

Lucanis holds the hand not settled on her hip up placatingly. He is but a messenger, amor.

Spite is insistent. "You do not. let. us help."

"They're just dreams, Spite." The twist of her mouth is weary. "They can't hurt me."

"But you do. hurt."

Spite who says the words. Lucanis who raises his brows. "He's not wrong."

Her eyes narrow, very slightly. On second thought, perhaps Lucanis should stay out of this.

"I don't—" Rook begins, but then she stops. Lucanis can feel it on his face, the… plea Spite has stumbled over, night after night, not quite able to understand the sentiment. Maybe it's overdue, letting them settle it directly.

Something flickers in her expression. She strokes her thumb across their cheekbone. Her lips twitch in a smile when one or the other of them turns just so slightly towards it, instinctively. "I do," she admits. "But it's real. As real as dreams get, anyway. I spent a long time not knowing what was real. I just…can't."

Lucanis understands. Spite does not. "Blood magic," he spits, indignant, the flare of anger spilling over the part that's him into the part that's Lucanis. Lucanis takes a deep breath, tempers it. "Not like us. We are not. him."

"I'm not saying you are," Rook says, remarkably level for someone who was shaking like a leaf not ten minutes ago. "I told you already. It's not about you. I didn't know what was real. I couldn't trust my own mind, all that time, and I had no idea. No one did. What if—"

Lucanis who frowns, now, when she cuts off abruptly, lips pressing thin. Who shifts to prop himself up on his elbow to look at her directly. "'What if', what?"

Rook's brows draw together briefly and then smooth again, too quickly. Her eyes shift just slightly to the side, mimicking contact without making it. "This is hardly fair," she says, tone falsely light. "We should have some ground rules about how many of us are allowed to argue at once."

Another time, he would probably let the deflection be. Tonight, the tightness at the corners of her eyes, the way she's subtly working her jaw as if chewing on a thought she doesn't want to speak, unsettles him. "Rook," he says, more than half a request.

She is still for a moment, and then sighs, straightens up to sit facing him, crosslegged on the bed. She still can't quite seem to meet his eyes again. "Lucanis, he's holding back the fade. He had me having full conversations with a dead man for months and months. How am I supposed to trust myself with anything, after that? How am I supposed to know for certain there wasn't more, that any of this is—" Her voice catches. She looks down at her hands, clenched tight together in her lap.

Lucanis is very, very careful as he shifts his body until he is seated opposite her, mirroring her posture until their knees brush. Spite has withdrawn—watching, focused, but distant. Quiet.

"I didn't know you worried about this."

"Every day," Rook says to her hands. "It's still hard to believe sometimes that all of this is real. Some days I'm not sure if I should."

He doesn't take her hands. Instead, he rests his in the space between them, open. "Touch me. Feel my skin."

She hesitates. He waits. Gingerly, her hands unclasp. She brushes her fingers along his palm, does not pull away when he curls his own to catch hers in a loose hold. "I'm real, see? Whatever Solas did or didn't do—this is real."

"Lucanis," she whispers, sounding broken.

"You don't have to believe it. I'll still be here when you do. Still real."

"I don't want to hurt Spite's feelings." Her eyes are bright when she looks up at him, welled without spilling over yet. "I know he only wants to help. I'm just—I…"

"You're not there yet." Lucanis twists his wrist to change the angle, just enough that he can interlace his fingers with her own. Rook sniffs, blinks, but does not cry. Stubborn, as usual. "That's okay."

She gives his hand a squeeze, offers a small, grateful smile. "Maybe one day."

"Maybe."

And until then, he'll sleep on the left.

#dragon age veilguard #lucanis dellamorte #dragon age rook #lucanis x rook #lucanis x rook x spite #prompt response #snippet #writing #rookanis #spite dragon age #spite dellamorte #datv #veilguard #my fic

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minus-plus-zer0 · 9 months ago

Text

Working at Bakugou's Agency Headcanons - Part 2

| Part 1 | ♡ Genre: Fluff ♡ Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Ever since you broke the ice with Bakugou, he's been finding more time to talk to you at work. You're less likely to call him by his hero name now out of habit.

You feel a little bad though for the co-workers he still yells at though, so you ask him if he could be just a "smidge" nicer to them.

His first instinct is probably to say "NO FREAKING WAY!" but he's been thinking about all the things you said to him before this point and he's at least considering your suggestion, albeit begrudgingly.

That's a victory of a sort.

You're learning a lot about the inner life of a Pro Hero, given how much time you spend working around the agency.

You joked to Bakugou before about surpassing him as a Pro Hero but really, if you put your mind to it, maybe you could do it. Your experience as a secretary could only help and not hurt you. It's a lot of work though.

The idea is still put on hold for now. Especially considering what happened recently. There was a new villain on the streets and they caused a ton of trouble for the Pro Heroes. Bakugou in particular was pretty banged up...

You were worried sick over him during and after the fight. You visited him in the hospital and although you heard he was in a bad mood, he seemed more alert when you entered the room.

He couldn't stand to see you cry. He told you it wasn't your problem and that you should only focus on your work. But you insisted that as a friend you should care.

He doesn't disagree with that, so he lets you stay. He says it'll be easier to keep watch on you this way and he needs to know how the agency's doing anyways.

The agency is not nearly as worried as you are, at least not on a personal level. They're not callous, but they're not close to the man. So you're the only one who visits.

Regardless of the good or bad news, Bakugou enjoys listening to you speak. It's better than being alone in the dull hospital room. You end up talking quite a while and time passes by before you know it. Bakugou's smiling more and more as time goes by.

When Bakugou eventually returns to work, you're talking to him in private about the status of his wounds. He lets you help him with first aid and also with moving around the place. You're literally a shoulder for him to lean on when his issues are at their worst.

Eventually he heals up and you don't have as much of an excuse to talk to him at work, so you go back to your usual amount of interactions. It still nice but never enough...

Bakugou ends up reaching out to you more as a result and this time around, Bakugou is the one to invite you out for dinner! But instead of the fancy restaurant you attended last time, you suggest a more low-key, humble cafe nearby.

He agrees, even though this means he's gotta disguise himself somewhat. There's some private tables in the cafe and it's not too busy with people, but the fancy restaurant was more guarded against the usual common fans and reporters than a simple cafe would ever be.

You poke fun at his disguise and find a good table for you both. As you're making your orders you notice him staring at you from your table and it's very clear he didn't think he was going to get caught looking. You stick your tongue out at him and that leaves him seething at your teasing.

You return with the food and you give it to Bakugou before he can complain about anything. Your careful recommendation on what he should order was right on the money. He likes the food and you can tell by his expression.

You say that to his face, and he screws up his expression so now you can't tell what he's thinking or feeling. He looks deranged.

You want to take a picture to show all your co-workers, but he's got a hand on your phone before you can do anything. Damn him and his fast reflexes!

Since his face isn't screwed up anymore you still want to take a picture, but this time for yourself. You don't tell him that last part, you just ask if you can take a photo of him and his food, for posterity of course. He agrees and he initially keeps his typical grumpy face for the photo. But then a thought occurs to him and he gives you a small smile and you know you just HAVE to take the photo ASAP.

If you didn't have to go back to work, you would've forgotten that he was your boss. He's too close to you now, so many smiles and secrets you didn't think you'd get out of a man like this. But you need something more. You don't want things to stop progressing here, not when it's getting good. However, there's no good way to broach the subject.

Hours later after having a good time together at the cafe, Bakugou is walking you home, all the way to your doorstep.

When you finally reach the place, he tells you he has something to talk about.

He looks like he's a bundle of nerves. He ends up blurting what's on his mind just to get it off his damn chest, and it's just easy for him to talk to you about these kinds of things.

He admits that he doesn't always see you as his secretary, but as his close friend. He knew he had feelings for you at the start, but he thought he could manage that in private so as to not make you uncomfortable.

But he does love you, and he's thinking he's been reading the signs right and that you feel the same.

You just kiss him to confirm his thoughts and he kisses back even deeper than you ever could. He's inexperienced and rough, it's obvious to a T, but it's everything you would want. He's pulling you into his chest and making sure he's tasting every last bit!

Finally you break for air and his smirk is shaky, his body is shaky, and his voice is also shaky when he tells you "You're mine."

"No YOU'RE mine."

He quite likes that!

Though he admits he can't let you work for him anymore if you're together. He'd be letting you go as his secretary, because he would really rather have you as a girlfriend!

Sucks that you're out of a job though. But you heard that Deku is hiring...

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hollowed-theory-hall · 7 months ago

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Hi! I want to know your head canons on SLANG! What sort of things to wizards say to sound cool or evoke thoughts or feelings? What sayings might they have? Do we maybe have any in common with them?

We know that “to have a hairy heart” means to be aloof or cold. (Fm Tales of Beedle the Bard)

I once read a very compelling headcanon that Americans would never use no-maj (for non-magical) as a term cuz they like to shorten things so much, and so American wizfolk would use either ‘noma’ or ‘nomie’. As an American I agree tbh.

I hc that the Hogwarts motto “Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus” [never tickle a sleeping dragon] to be a kind of slang for “don’t do that”.

Like, your friend is getting ready to sneak out of her dorm to go see a guy even though she knows Peeves has been feisty lately. “….Draco dormiens, Molly,” you whisper as she sneaks out the door.

Yeah! Any thoughts?

I love this, and I definitely think there are wizard versions for some common phrases we have (and we actually see some in the books). In my fic I try to add magical variations of phrases to make the world feel more real.

I'd say which shortened version of no-maj would be said would depend on where in the US the wizard is from. I imagine some areas would say "noma" some would say "nomie" and I'm sure there would be other variants. I think it'll just really depend on location.

But most of the idioms and slang I have headcanons for are for the UK.

Some examples I've written into my fic:

Hit him like a bludger - would mean having a strong emotional reaction, like "hit like a ton of bricks"

You look like a dementor’s got you - generally to mean one looks upset or down.

Eating away at his brian like the Fwooper’s song - to mean something is occupying your thoughts, but like, to obsessive levels.

I also like the idea of:

"Confunded" - being used as the word "befuddled"

"Demiguise" - used to the same as calling someone a wallflower, since they become invisible.

"Keep the egg under the toad" - references the process of breeding a basilisk, which is illegal. Means to keep something quite or on the downlow.

"Are you yanking my wand?" - used like saying "are you joking me?" and is an extension of the saying "yanking your wand" that appears in Deathly Hallows.

"Polishing your wand" - is a real thing Cedric and other wizards apparently do, but I am convinced it also refers to jerking off.

"Until the Jobberknoll sings" - kinda like "it isn't over until the fat lady sings", since a Jobberknoll only sings on the moment it dies.

Similarly, saying "Joberknoll song" instead of "Swan song"

"Swearing like a Jarvey" - Like "Swearing like a sailor" since Jarveys are known for being rude and swear a lot.

I have a few more I wrote/thought of, but these are some off the top of my head.

There is also this wiki page that has a list of wizard idioms used in Harry Potter and it's extra semi-canon content (like the video games and pottermore). I don't consider all of this list canon, but there are some I like there, like:

Breed like gnomes (From DH) - meaning breed like rabbits and said by Muriel about the Weasleys

Different kettle of Grindylows (from Hogwarts Legacy) - like saying "different kettle of fish" or "another can of worms"

Dodged a bludger - like "dodged a bullet"

Don't count your owls before they are delivered (from HBP) - like "don't count your chickens before they hatch"

The fire's lit, but the cauldron's empty (from DH) - like "the lights are on, but nobody's home"

I could eat a Hippogriff (from GoF) - like "I could eat a horse"

I'll take Cadogan's pony (from pottermore) - roughly means to make the best of a bad situation

Knockturn Alley's litter epidemic (from GoF) - means something obvious/boring

Yanking your wand (from DH) - means to joke around.

Anyone who has more of these wizard common phrases headcanons, feel free to add more!

#harry potter #hp #asks #anonymous #wizarding world #wizarding society #wizarding world of harry potter #hollowedheadcanon

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bonzos-number-1-fan · 19 days ago

Text

TMAGP 39 Thoughts: Meat Dreams

It's a rare Alex and Jonny co-written episode this week. It's also a very short and sweet one, although I am told that's to buy time for some longer episodes that are upcoming. However, it'll also be a short and sweet post from me because the nature of this one does mean I've precious little to say. I thought the episode was pretty good over all. I'm not a huge fan of the statement here but I do think it was well-written and well acted, it just didn't do much for me. As always though, there are a few things to pick at for the show's wider mythos.

Spoilers for TMA , and TMAGP episode 39 below the cut.

This is probably the simplest episode of the show so far. While there are scenes they're all contiguous and, as such, does make this episode fell quite small. Which is good and bad. It gives the episode an air of intimacy — which is apt for the content — but it does also leave little unseen and unsaid which is bad for these things.

I don't have an awful lot to say about this one. I think the takeaways and themes here are either very explicit or will be up to personal interpretation. Meaning you either don't need me to explain, or I cannot explain, the various goings-on in this episode. Although of note the official affix to denote who is a TMA character is now PL [name]. So this was PL Alice, as opposed to regular Alice. PL meaning primeline, as in prime timeline. And talk of the timelines is interesting to me because a prime timeline is a different thing than a prime dimension. Lots of things can change dimension to dimension but a series of timelines suggests some sort of common starting point. Timelines are different because events are different rather than the fundamental nature of things. I don't necessarily think that's the case here given the scope of the changes in regards to things like the Fears but we know the underlying metaphysics are at least compatible. Which might suggest that the only reason things are different in TMAGP is because people did different things. The Fears are different, or non-existent, because they were never fed or never born rather than simply not being a factor of the world. It's hard to know how much any of that will matter but they're at least framing it in terms of choice and consequence rather than a different set of rules from the get go. Although as Sam's appendicitis shows it does appear as though these timelines are trying to converge on some sense of uniformity.

Post-statement Sam and Georgie make it halfway down the road before finally clocking the very statement-y nature of Alice's statement. Which I'm taking to mean that [Error]'s abilities do involve a level of passivity or obfuscation when they're pulling these statements out of people. At least when the tape recorders are the vector. If that isn't the case Georgie has gone from telling the Wardens to be very aware of people statementing to letting Alice monologue for 6 unbroken minutes. I'm curious to know if we'll be seeing more of this sort of thing, or if it's more of a one off. I do also think it's quite odd Sam didn't ask Alice some of the more pressing questions. Sam knows the Magnus Institute is a fairly large deal in both universes. He's got first hand experience with one of them and in the primeline he knows it was the centre of the Change and that the event that ended it is named after it. He knows it turned into a big tower, knows everyone could see the big tower, and knows they blew up the big tower. Given Sam and PL Sam both had appendicitis, and both got together with Alice, you'd think a "weird question: did your Sam ever go to the Magnus Institute and see a dude turn into a skellington?". It might not elucidate anything, what with them being in different places, but it does seem like the sorta thing you'd at least ask about given all that context. But it does seem like they'll be stuck together in the next PL ep, so maybe he'll ask then.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Incident/CAT#R#DPHW Master Sheet and Terminology Sheet

DPHW Theory: N/A

CAT# Theory: You know the drill. See episode 34's post for thoughts on this.

R# Theory: N/A

Header talk: See episode 34's post for thoughts on this.

#the magnus protocol #tmagp #tmagp theory #tmagp speculation #the magnus archives #klaus = kl4-u5

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shinyrhinestones · 24 days ago

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Hii I saw that you needed requests and I was wondering if you can write 2025 bill with a younger Gf (him being 35 and his Gf being 25-26) who’s super insecure with how she looks and believes she’s not pretty enough for him and he comforts her? Tysm and have a good day! (Also I’m sorry if this is completely vague and not a lot of detail or the age gap is weird 😭😭)

finally a request.

also sorry for mistakes, english isn't my first language and i wrote this in one setting so here ya go.

In all honesty, you shouldn't have felt like this. When you look around and see all that you've got, what is there to be down about? But then again you're still human. Tonight had been rough. For the past couple of days, it had felt like everything was against you. You kept messing things up or you just felt bad. With the media being invasive didn't help. Dating someone who has been famous for the past 20 years certainly made the media play a huge role in your life. Well, Bill himself said it's better now than back then. But he of course has lived that life more than you. It was interesting. But you didn't feel interesting. No, not really. When you look at Bill, you can tell he could date pretty much anyone he likes. If it'll be authentic that's another talk, but what bothered you the most is the fact that Bill had so much more than you. At an early age too. Bill has always been pretty, and could have someone on his own level of beauty. Weird, right? So why was he with you?

You were trying on clothes that had been lingering in your closet, to see if you just hadn't been out much. Maybe that's why you all of a sudden didn't feel worthy of all the good stuff in your life, all because of your look. Heels, boots, sneakers, tights, pants, skirts, jackets - everything was tried on, laying around your floor, bed, closet and desk even. You sat down defeated on your bed with a heavy sigh. Just staring at the mess youo made, that you didn't even wanna clean up, because what would it matter? You'd just lay in your bed and hide from the world forever. Then no one had to see you and you didn't need to be reminded of your imperfections and flaws. And then no one had to look at you, and make you feel sorry. So you just crawled underneath the covers and let your tears and sobs exhauste you and put you to sleep.

Now, your body unfortunately couldn't sleep forever, like you had hoped. Atleast not when your boyfriend wakes you up. Bills hand laying loose on your shoulder, shaking you lightly awake as your eyes fluttered open. You groaned, and shuffled more under the covers, noticing that you were still wearing black tights and a dress from the day before. To say you were uncomfortable could probably cover it. Bills long nails slowlys massaged your head, sticking out from under the covers. "What's up?" He bit his lip, not unnderstanding why you were like this all of a sudden. He could certainly feel the shift in your mood, behaviour and honestly just the atmosphere in general.

He raised his eyebrows as his eyes widened when you spoke up. "Don't touch me, Bill" You said quite low, and your tone was just sad in general. He looked off to the side. Around the room. When he first entered the room he was worried that something bad happened to you, but physically you seemed fine. But he could something was still wrong. "What's with the mess?" He really didn't know how to sound. If he should sound natural, worried, confused. Maybe all three, if that's even possible. He could sense he had to be careful. He retracted his arms to himself, and rubbed them flat against his knees. You closed your eyes, trying not to let more tears escape you. You were basically hugging yourself underneath the duvet. "What are you doing here?"

Bill held his breath for a second. He sighed, moved his arm to lean against the madrass on the other side of where your legs were resting. He furrowed his eyebrows. 'Cause he was your boyfriend, would it really be weird for him to be in your room? He's been here so many times before.

You heard his shuffling but as you still felt so outcasted you didn't know if could face him. You opened your eyes to the dark underneath your covers, with a little bit of daylight shining through them. You could barely even breathe at this point, so you peeked up to look at him. Letting your nose free and actually get some air.

"Oh Mein Gott". He looked shocked and almost pale, to see your leftover make-up, red nose, red eyes and cheeks from at the crying. Messy hair and how you were still in your dress. "What...what happened?" He went to caress your face but you rejected it. Avoiding his somewhat soft hand by moving your face away from him, and putting your hand up to 'warn' him. Bill was getting frustrated with you but he didn't know if it was justified, 'cause he didn't know what was going on at all. Bill had been in the middle of a few projects this week, and so you couldn't expect him to sense how you'd felt so down the past couple of days.

"Sorry." You whispered and sat up, but still avoiding eye contact with Bill. You were on the verge of tears, you wre certain that if you made eye contact with deep brown eyes, you were gonna collapse.

"Sorry?" If you had just taken a look at him, you would see how heartbroken he looked. He didn't know what your 'sorry' meant, but Bill has been betrayed so many times in previous relationships, that he sadly made a very drastic conlusion. That you had betrayed him. Whatever that could be. In Bills mind it could be from cheating to lying to the press. But based on how you looked, and how your room was such a clutter, he thought mostly about the first one.

"Yeah" You muttered, whiping your left eye quickly, as your bottomlip wanted to shake, as you tried to hold yourself together. You let your legs sit up by you know, your knees in infront of you kinda. You rubbed your legs as a way to comfort yourself. "I'm sorry, I'm not enough for you" Bill was just staring at you. You quickly glanced up at him, but quickly avoided his stare again. It was too overwhelming.

"What do you mean?" He reached out for the hand of yours, laying on your knee. You let him even though you felt weird about it in the moment. "I just don't understand why you're with me. I guess, I look alright, but wouldn't you rather be with some super hot model" You let out a breathy laugh at the end of your sentence. You didn't want to sound completely pathetic, even though you felt like it. You might've felt stupid saying all that stuff, but you didn't know exactly how to open up to him. You could sense you needed to, 'cause Bill is a stubborn man. He wouldn't leave without an explanation, and you did care about him. You didn't date him for nothing.

"What?" He almost laughed. "What do you mean? You could be a super hot model, you know." He said and sat next to you. He smiled at you even though he could see you were still frowning. "Yeah whatever." You exhaled once again, and layed your head back against the wall behind you. He took a hold of both of your hands, holding them in his, as he gave them both a few kisses. "I mean it. You know I'm not only dating for looks. I love every bit of you. Your appearence and style for sure. But you're also more than that. I love you no matter what, I thought you knew that. I mean, you know i'm serious about love and romance." He explained, and kept explaining but you tuned out even though the words that were coming out of his mouth meant a lot to you. You knew you should be thankful. You were just a random woman in the world, and then after a bunch of nervousness, awkwardness and so on you somehow still managed to end up in a serious relationship with a worldwide famous singer/musician. And what made the road bumpy to an official relationship was also the age gap, that you didn't know if he would be okay with. But here you are. Having BIll Kaulitz sit and explain his love, care and appreciation for you. You turned to your side and let yourself melt into his embrace as he kept going. "I mean, even I was nervous when we first met even though I can see why that would be you." You smiled weakly, and traced your finger down his arm. You just let him keep rambling as you melted more and more into his embrace.

#tokio hotel #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz x reader #georg listing #fluff #fanfic #gustav schäfer #tom kaulitz #00s #band #tokio hotel fanfic #bill kaulitz fanfic #bill kaulitz request #bill kaulitz fanfiction #tokio hotel fluff #fic #music #rock #german

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skyloftian-nutcase · 9 months ago

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I kinda like your chronicles of the domain story thing if you wanna do something with that for the prompt event. thx!

(@silvrash-797 this one’s for you ❤️)

Link was sick.

It wasn't anything too alarming, Abel told himself repeatedly. The chidl had a stuffed nose, a bit of a fever, and a wretched cough. Captain Tomall had assigned Abel to guard the Hylian quarters to help him care for his boy, which the young knight greatly appreciated. He spent the morning with Link in his arms, comforting the poor child, who was quite miserable with his situation. Abel's touch wasn't as gentle as Tilieth's, but his soft words of encouragement and love seemed to help either way.

He pointedly ignored the fear in his heart, like a tiny needle trying to undo him. He pointedly didn't think about how Tilieth had been sick before their departure, how Link maybe somehow had it now. But that couldn't be the case - it had been two weeks since they'd left Hateno, after all.

Still, Link coughed and moaned, and Abel worried.

Ekan, Abel's teammate in guard duty today, offered to take care of everything so Abel could just rest with his son. Abel was somewhat annoyed with the offer - Ekan was by far the weakest fighter in the group, and he did not take his duty as seriously, so leaving him in charge would be a disaster. Although the man had a good heart, Abel didn't trust the Zora enough to leave protecting Hylians up to Ekan alone.

It was strange, though. Having spent roughly a week here now, Abel was... not entirely sure what to make of the Zora. He'd heard of them, of course - a mysterious and elegant race of water loving people, with strange appearances, beautiful aesthetic, and strong magic.

When they'd been briefed for this mission, they had all been told briefly of the political landscape, at least enough for them to grasp the importance of protecting their ambassador, Cilda. The Domain and Hyrule had clashed in the past, though not too recently. Nevertheless, tensions remained high, and trust low. The late Zora Queen had not liked Hyrule much, but with her death the Queen of Hyrule saw a new opportunity to establish good relations with the heir apparent, Dorephan.

Dorephan. The man had been kind enough when Abel had met him. But he could also very clearly see distrust and disdain in the upcoming king's advisors, and it made him wary.

He hoped everything would go well, though. If nothing else, for Link's sake. The boy had really started taking a liking to some Zora children, and had even interacted with the little princess, Mipha. Abel wasn't entirely sure how appropriate that was, and tried to keep it to a minimum, but he couldn't control his son while he was on duty, much as he tried.

None of that really mattered now, though. Not with Link being sick.

Speaking of the Zora, however, one of the little Zora children did stop by to ask if Link could play. Rivan, if Abel recalled correctly. The little boy was greatly disappointed when he heard Link was ill, and he asked that Abel pass along message to get better soon because we were gonna go see Ploymous Mountain (to which Abel pointed out that children should not be wandering to random mountains by themselves since he hardly knew the terrain or how dangerous this area was).

As Abel checked on his little boy in the afternoon, having left him in bed to rest, he found the child clutching his cow plushie and sniffling. The knight's heart twisted a little at the sight of it, and he knelt down to be at eye level with the child.

"Feeling any better?" he asked quietly, gently brushing hair away from the boy's face.

"My head hurts," Link whined, voice breaking halfway through the sentence.

Sympathy tugged at the man's heart, and he leaned in to kiss the child before saying, "It'll get better, son. Drink some water and rest, okay? I'll be back with dinner."

He felt a little bad for leaving the child, but to be fair, he'd carried him around with him most of the morning. As much as he loved Link, he didn't need to coddle him too much. The boy would have to learn to become more independent someday. Abel found himself constantly debating how to go about doing that - Tilieth would treat him like a baby all the way up to his adolescence if she could, but Abel didn't agree with that. But he also didn't think it was fair to just throw the boy into the world as he himself had been, forced to parent his little sister, forced to run the house when their mother deteriorated and passed away.

He'd comforted Link plenty today, right? And he would tell him a bedtime story with dinner. He couldn't be with the boy all day. He hadn't been their entire stay here.

But Link was sick. And Abel was worried.

He sighed heavily, returning to his post, ignoring Ekan's gaze. When his teammate tried to start conversation, hand restlessly running over his dark cornrows on his head, Abel tried not to be too snippy in response. There was nothing wrong with Ekan trying to be friendly; Abel simply was too stressed to play along.

The next day, Link's fever finally seemed to break, giving Abel immense relief. Captain Tommell mentioned that there would be some sort of serious meeting between the heir apparent and their diplomat, Cilda, and many Zora officials would be there, meriting tighter security. Abel hadn't really seen the soon-to-be-king since his initial meeting with him - most of Cilda's interactions were with Zora officials beneath him, after all. This was important.

Which meant he would be assigned to guard her. And Link would be alone, sick.

Abel swallowed his remorse on the matter. Duty was duty. He spent breakfast in his room with Link.

"I'm going to be guarding the diplomats today, son," he explained gently. "I asked Sir Ekan to make sure you're okay."

"Braids soldier?"

Abel's mouth twisted a little in amusement. "You have to learn their names, Link. They're our... our friends here."

"But I don't want Braids Soldier," Link whined. "I want you, Papa."

Abel sighed. "Sometimes we can't get what we want, Link. Our duty always has to come first, remember? Others are relying on me, too. You're safe here. Our ambassador is not."

Link hugged Mrs. Moo more tightly, lip wobbling, but he nodded. Abel smiled proudly at it. His little boy would be a good soldier someday, and he told him as much before kissing his forehead and steeling himself for a long day. Link was on the mend, though, so no matter what, it would be fine.

And it was fine. Until the next day, when Abel woke up with a runny nose and a headache.

He groaned. Of course I got it too.

Whatever this obnoxious feverish nightmare was, it was clearly contagious. He prayed it didn't spread to the other soldiers. Goddess, what if he passed it on to the captain, or the ambassador?

Link wiggled in the bed a little, clearly far more energized, jumping up and down in excitement. "Papa! Papa I'm feeling better! Papa, look!"

Abel swallowed, feeling his throat scrape against itself, raw and swollen. He mustered a smile, nodding. "That's good, son. Maybe you can go play with your friends today?"

Link nodded eagerly.

The little one's smile fell, however, when Abel started coughing harshly as he stood.

"Papa?" he asked, beady eyes wide with worry.

"I'm okay," Abel assured him, pointedly ignoring the look from their roommate, Norri.

When he coughed again, though, world spinning slightly as his head pounded, Link immediately shifted uncomfortably. "Papa, you're not okay."

"Link--"

"Papa, you're sick!"

"It's okay, son."

Link's eyes were filled with tears, and Abel was almost baffled at the reaction. Surely he couldn't look that ill, right?

"I made you sick," Link whimpered.

Oh.

"No," Abel hastily tried to appease him. "No, sweet child. It--I got this from--from Norri."

His roommate's expression grew affronted, and the younger knight huffed, freshening up and stepping out of the room.

Link seemed a little less horrified, but no less worried.

"Son," Abel said gently, picking him up and kissing him. "I'm a grown up. When we get sick we're okay. We don't really get all that sick. My body's bigger and stronger, so I can handle it, okay? I'll be fine."

Settling him on the ground, he nudged him along. "Go eat some breakfast. I'll be out shortly."

When he stepped out into the hall, he nearly jumped to the ceiling when Norri materialized beside him, saying, "I am not pretending to be sick just to assuage your child's worries. Unlike you, I am dedicating all my energy into doing my duty."

Abel's patience wasn't what it should have been. Not with as ill as he was feeling. Instead of taking the words with a neutral expression, he snapped, "Don't take my care for my child as shirking my duty. You know nothing of responsibility until you have someone in your care. Some of us aren't self centered brats who wish to climb the ranks."

He really should have held his tongue. Especially since Norri had occasionally tried to look out for him. The man wasn't a bad person, just... immature. He had his opinions about Link's presence, and Abel bristled at it. It wasn't as if he himself weren't aware of the inconvenience having a four-year-old caused; he didn't need it rubbed in.

Before Abel could retract his words, their superior arrived to corral them into the den and hand out their assignments. Abel would be with the ambassador alongside the captain and, of course, Norri.

Great. This was going to be a great day. Abel held back another coughing fit as he said his goodbye to Link and told him they would spar in the evening. Ekan, kindhearted as he was, promised he would keep an eye on Link and told Abel to take care of himself.

Goddess, how obvious was this illness? Abel felt miserable but he thought he was hiding it fairly well.

Well. Until he wasn't.

It wasn't entirely his fault. But he supposed that didn't matter. Lack of food and water mixed with whatever was tearing his body apart, and it turned into the perfect storm.

At least Abel managed to excuse himself from the meeting hall and made it into some innocuous corner before the dark edges of his vision caught up to the rest of him.

He wasn't entirely sure how long he'd passed out, but the sunlight didn't seem to have moved too much when he awoke. His shoulder ached--he must have hit it when he fell--but thankfully his helmet protected his head from any major impact. Now he just needed to find some water and get back to his post.

Shakily, Abel pulled himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall, when he realized he was being watched.

He reached for his blade automatically, feeling far too vulnerable, but a strong voice said, "Steady, Hylian. I don't mean you any harm. You're hardly a threat in your state, anyway."

Abel bristled a little at the implication of his ineptitude, but he sheathed his sword nonetheless. He didn't need to cause a diplomatic incident. The Zora in question was a sergeant, Seggin, who was known for his pride and prowess in battle. He was head of all the Zora military as well, which made this particularly unnerving.

Abel was exposing himself as a weak link in the Hylian forces, and he hated it. He wasn't entirely sure how to get himself out of this situation, so he just tried to stand tall and proud and strong, despite having just passed out.

"Hylians are so delicate, aren't they?" Seggin continued, walking towards him with his arms crossed. "Your kind live such short lives. You hardly understand anything of how the world works, and I wouldn't exactly call your people capable. How Hylia favored your race is beyond me."

Abel steeled himself for a fight, face carefully neutral so as not to be the one to start it, but more than willing to end it.

Seggin sighed before reaching for something and holding it out. "Drink. Get back what little strength your feeble Hylian body can muster. I'll not have you dying in my prince's halls and causing a problem."

As much as he wanted to punch the sergeant, Abel opted to just take the offered water flask and drink. He also promised himself to spar somewhere public when he was feeling better so as to prove this sergeant wrong.

With a nod of thanks, he made his way back to the meeting hall, ignoring Seggin's watchful eye as the sergeant also walked there. The two had a silent face off the rest of the day, sizing each other up, though Seggin hardly seemed concerned by Abel.

When the young Hylian knight returned to the barracks, he felt absolutely wretched, but he tried to put it aside as Link eagerly asked about sparring and talked about his day. Abel indulged the boy, wanting to also stretch and fight as well, and the two went at it briefly with wooden training swords. Link's prowess still surprised Abel, and honestly, with as sick as he felt, the child genuinely did almost defeat him.

Honestly, the joy of seeing his boy's abilities really did make him feel better. As he undressed from his armor, he felt his trousers get tugged and looked down to see Link holding a tray of food and what looked like five glasses of water.

"I brought dinner," he said, holding the tray up as proof.

"I... already ate," Abel replied, confused. "Remember? I had dinner with you."

"But it wasn't enough, Papa!" Link argued. "And you need water when you're sick."

Abel sighed heavily. There was little point in arguing with the child, so he nibbled on the offered food, ignoring Norri as he entered the room.

Link watched him uncertainly, holding his plushie tightly. When Abel smiled at him, he held the toy out hesitantly. "Do... do you want Mrs. Moo?"

Abel tried not to choke on his water. "W-why?"

"She helps," Link explained seriously. "When you weren't there she made me feel better because she's from you and Mama."

Abel lost his appetite in a heartbeat, guilt gnawing at his insides. He swallowed, putting the tray down on his lap. "I... sure, Link. Thank you."

Link smiled eagerly, taking the tray and putting it on the nightstand before handing Mrs. Moo to his father. Then he started fussing over Abel, insisting he tuck him in (and pat his cheeks with his grubby little hands, and goddess if it didn't take all of Abel's willpower not to laugh at the silly child). When Abel's pillow was fluffed, blanket pulled up to his chin, and Mrs. Moo secured snugly in his arms, Link was finally satisfied.

Abel smiled as his sweet boy crawled under the blankets to snuggle with him. Mrs. Moo smelled like soggy cloth and spilled food, and he noted he should probably wash the thing in the morning. His headache didn't seem to pound quite as much with some water, and the general ache that had been creeping through his body wasn't enough to keep him from trying to get comfortable.

In the end, Link's care was far more healing than anything else, and Abel felt his heart warm as he fell asleep that night.

#you ask skye answers #lovely anon #chronicles of the domain #breath of the wild link #botw link #abel #ajifeowajfklsajfieow I LOVE BABY LINK #mrs. moo deserves her own tag #mrs. moo #she's an obviously important character #Seggin does not like Hylians in case you didn't notice #but he also isn't gonna just walk by and see a man stumbling and not help #at least he didn't see Abel pass out or Abel would've woken up in a Zora infirmary and had a meltdown #writing

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clubdionysus · 10 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #57] Buttons

warnings: the big gallery auction!!! wahooo!!! the entire plot was building to this!!!!!! he is on his knees begging!! rooftop escapades <3, semi-public, oral (f), fingering, phonecall??? during??? jungkook is insane????, readers underwear in jungkooks mouth?? readers underwear in jungkooks... underwear?, a v horny jk lmao

a/n: all currency is in korean won!

wc: 11K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Gallery days always feel a little more placid than they really should do.

Where you think there should be chaos, there is calm; testament to how meticulously you plan. It's the weeks leading up to the shows that are the real stress. Endless errands are run, and countless logistical issues are checked. You work damn hard. The fact you can breathe normally right now, a few hours before doors open, is proof of it.

"You're a lifesaver," Shinwon, Jina's assistant (and Ryu Gallery's stand-in head coordinator), breathes out a sigh of relief. Having taken over her role since Jina left for maternity leave, he's been finding the adjustment hard. The responsibility of orchestrating shows weighs heavily on his shoulders. He hadn't realised quite how much of the heavy lifting Jina had been doing. "I don't know how you do it."

Shaking your head, you laugh. "Ah, it's easy once you get used to it. Get a few more shows under your belt, and you'll be grand."

It's not like you're vastly more experienced than him, it's just that you've built your way up to this. Started small. Learnt the ropes.

Shinwon had connections that put him on a high rung in the ladder, not accounting for the fact that it's damn well scary up near the top. The fall from grace is far less forgiving. Don't look down is the advice he'd always been given for this very reason.

You've had the luxury (or misfortune) of working your way up.

The levels beneath you don't scare you in the same way they scare Shinwon. If you end up back down there, you know how to climb back up. He ran before he could walk; just a product of his privilege. It's nothing you can really hold against him.

Still, it does fill you with a little bit of pride. You've worked hard, and it's paying off.

"Doors are in an hour and a half," you tell him, passing over a stack of auction guides. "Can you be an angel and put these around the place?"

Everyone in attendance will get one upon their arrival, but you know what people are like once a flute of champagne has passed their lips. Won't hurt to have spares available.

With a nod and smile that says a silent thank you for taking the lead, Shinwon is on his merry way.

Looking around the place, you take a second to appreciate all the work that has gone into this show. In the middle of the main gallery area is an empty easel and Taehyung's supplies. A pole is set up directly opposite it.

The idea is simple: Taehyung will do a live work inspired by a routine performed by Danbi. It's all very romantic, how terribly besotted with her he is. Destined to be a muse, nothing could make you happier for her. It'll also be a good money maker—people will be blind bidding throughout the night. The highest bid at the end of the auction will win the work.

It's one of multiple Kim Taehyung originals on offer tonight. He's been making waves on the art circuit lately—you've even got an international line set up for foreign bidders. The fact he's giving up his time and his art to help Jeongguk out is selfless.

"DB, I wouldn't even have international fans had it not been for you pushing me so hard to expand myself," he had reminded you after you'd thanked him for the hundredth time that afternoon. "It's the least I can do—plus Jeongguk has promised he'll import my favourite wine for the restaurant once it opens, so it's a win for me, too."

Maybe you're being greedy, but you hope the night will be a win for you, too. A lot of hard work has gone into this. With Shinwon's continuous second-guessing of himself, you know that the likelihood of a spot opening up on the Ryu's curation team is high. Think that perhaps this could be the thing that really solidifies your presence; that you can not only draw in punters, but profits, too.

You're taking in the room around you when a hand sneaks around your waist, a familiar presence intruding on your personal space in a way that never really feels like an intrusion at all.

"Hey," you whisper, not needing to turn around as Jeongguk presses a kiss to your hair, squeezing you tightly against him. "You're early."

Having been caught up at Dionysus, Jeongguk had wanted to finally finish off the renovations he had been doing to the outdoor area of the bar. Once that was done, he'd have no more obligations with the bar other than casual shifts.

The tides really are turning. It scares him. Excites him, too.

"Managed to rope Yoongi in," Jeongguk says softly, punctuating his sentences with even more kisses pressed against your hair. Told you once that if you were his girlfriend, he'd kiss you in this room, right in front of everyone. The room is empty, now, but you are his girlfriend, so he'll take his victories when he can. "Got everything sorted in, like half the time."

There's a tenderness to the way he holds onto you. Close is never close enough. It's not like he gives it much considered thought; is just how he naturally gravitates towards you.

"Does it look good?" You ask of the bar. "Happy with it?"

Nodding, Jeongguk smiles. "Unrecognisable. Kinda sad, though."

"Hm?" You question. "How come?"

"I just... I've spent a lot of time in that courtyard," he mumbles. "Always makes me think of you, though."

"Of me?" You chirp with a little confusion, as if you don't also have incredibly poignant memories there that linger like the silage of Jeongguk's aftershave through the hazy smoulder of freshly cracked fireworks.

"Of you," he doubles down. Pulls away a little, turning you to face him, and you sort of wish he hadn't. How you'll ever be able to focus now that he's here is beyond you.

Smart in his dark slacks and leather shoes, Jeongguk's white shirt is buttoned mid-way up his chest. The silver chain he so often sports rests against his skin like it was made to adorn his body; so inherently his that it's unfathomable he's ever without it.

In the corner of his charming smile lays his silver lip ring, sparkling under the gallery lights.

It's his eyes though, framed by loose strands of his lightly waved hair, that always render you a little speechless. No other artwork compares.

"New Years," he simply offers. "It's all I can ever think about when I'm there."

So imperative is the memory of time spent with you, it eradicates any memory of Hayun there. He simply doesn't consider it. Now that the dust has settled, you don't think of it, either.

"Maybe there's a little magic in that courtyard," you offer. "Now that it will be open to punters, maybe they'll have their own version of our new year in it."

A lovely thought, it is, that perhaps there's something spectacular about that little space.

In reality, the magic came from stardust that had settled on your skin like glitter, and wrapped Jeongguk up in your cosmic chaos, too.

And so he just shakes his head. Smiles. His lip ring does the thing. You die a little inside, in the most pathetic of ways. "Impossible."

With a laugh, you swot him away. "I've still got a few things to sort out."

"Need a hand with anything?" He asks, always happy to help out.

Shaking your head, you really don't think there is anything he needs to do. "Tae will be here, in, like, five. See if he needs a hand with anything? I need to go and get changed."

In all black, you're casually dressed but know that the night ahead demands something a bit more spectacular. You've a few options with you, but one particular dress is in the forefront of your mind—just worry that it's a little too much.

The thing is, you're playing multiple roles tonight. You're not simply a curator, or a hostess. You're responsible for making people open their purse strings. Looking the part is important.

"Alright," he nods, dark eyes soft. There's a tenderness to Jungook today; his adoration for you quite literally pouring from his very being. "Go. I'll keep myself busy."

Pulling you in for a quick kiss, he sends you on your way. Regrets not telling you he loves you. Will just do it when he sees you next. Revels in the fact that he can just do that now. Doesn't have to go back and forth between his feelings. Is forward with them, 'cause he's secure.

Being together is just easy. It works. Makes sense in a way that nothing else has ever done before. You could chalk it up to the stars, or to some sort of invisible string that had looped itself around you both with a pretty little bow, but nothing would ever do it justice. Not divine intervention, not destiny nor manifestation.

No romance film has ever portrayed a love like the way he feels for you, and no love song could ever soundtrack the way you laugh together. Both holy and unholy in the same breath, no religion could ever make him worship in the way that he devotes himself to you.

If he were alive in the ancient times, he would have made shrines for you. Temples. Castles. Gilded in gold, everyone who visited would have known the sincerity of how he felt.

Instead, he has to settle with modern conventions of dating. Will give you a bouquet of flowers when he really wishes he could plant you a garden full of wildflowers; beautiful unconventional blooms that everyone will adore.

He half figures that maybe he should just blow caution to the wind. Build you a temple anyway. Fill it with glitter and gacha machines. Anyone who ever visited would leave with just as much admiration for you as he has.

By the time you've changed your outfit and checked yourself over a hundred times, Jeongguk is nowhere to be seen, but the door leading up to the rooftop has been left on the latch, so you take it as a safe bet.

Much like you hadn't turned to face the sound of Jeongguk's footsteps earlier, Jeongguk doesn't turn to face yours. The click of your heels echoes on the flat roof of the ceiling, and he knows that to take in the sight of you would be incredibly dangerous. His eyes remain on the city ahead of him. He knows the direction of home. His. Yours, too. Wonders if one day you'll share a home together.

Slinking your arm around his back, you hold onto his waist as his arm drapes over your shoulders. The city is growing darker as the dusky light of late spring sunset lays a thin curtain of pink over the skyline.

"Watcha doing up here?" You ask, squeezing his waist.

He doesn't reply immediately. Could tell you about his mindless thoughts about building a home with you. Could tell you he feels nervous about the night ahead; about whether or not they'll hit their goal, or if your ex will show up.

"Just wanted some air," he says, conveying everything that he needs to. There's a lot on his mind, and you aren't gonna push him to open up so close to the big event.

"Want me to leave you be for a little bit?" You offer, knowing that he seems to be hung up on his thoughts.

Jeongguk's grip on you doesn't ease, even as he shakes his head. "No."

A comfortable silence settles between you both, neither of you needing to say any words. You understand that Jeongguk shares when he's ready. Know that he's probably thinking of the right way to phrase his worries, or deliberating whether or not he even wants to share them at all.

"What if it doesn't work?" He quietly says as the light-speckled horizon glistens in front of you both.

With a small frown, you press your lips together. Know that he doesn't mean to be pessimistic, but it's natural to have worries.

"There's no reason why it shouldn't. Anything we earn tonight will help, even if we don't reach the total goal, Gguk." Turning your head to the side, you press a kiss to the side of his hand that's draped over your shoulder. Instinct-driven, he strokes against the side of your neck with his thumb. "We've got this."

Grouping yourself in with him, the responsibility is shared. The burden falls not on him, but on the both of you. It's always been this way. From the very inception of your birds, you've been a team.

Jeongguk takes solace in this. Has never really felt alone since that first night in Dionysus. Has been consumed by you ever since.

Pressing a kiss to the side of your head Jeongguk quietly admits, "I think I'm scared, B."

"Of course you are," you say softly. "You really care about this. I'd be surprised if you weren't a little scared."

Pulling back from him, you clasp his hand and begin to lead him away from the edge of the roof.

As he takes you in for the first time, Jeongguk thinks he might just die.

The dress you're wearing is one he knows well. One he picked out. One you've been saving for a special occasion.

You're sparkling in a way you never really have done before. Look like that damn disco ball he always used to tell you that you were, except far prettier than he could ever describe.

The fabric slinks over your body, and finishes a little higher up on your thighs than it really should. Your cleavage—dusted in shimmer—is visible, and Jeongguk might just choke when he remembers you're his girlfriend. It doesn't seem possible. How he managed to catch his very own shooting star is beyond him.

It's a dress that doesn't beg for attention—it commands it.

And if there's one thing Jeongguk is good at, it's following your orders.

Shaking his head, a grin blossoms on his pretty pink lips. In the corner of his mouth, his lip ring flips ever so gently. Light glistens on him in the most gorgeous fashion, your disco ball aura dousing him in eclectic energy that neither of you quite understand. Jeongguk just knows he's better when he's with you.

He encourages you to spin beneath his raised arm, fingers still loosely clasped together. Letting out a soft whistle, Jeongguk is speechless as the dress shines even under a dusky veil of early evening skies.

The fabric drapes over your body in a way that he's almost jealous of. Shorter than he thought it would be, but also far sexier than he'd realised, Jeongguk is certain that death will be the only outcome for him if he has to watch you schmooze other men while wearing it.

"You're gonna be breaking hearts tonight, Byeol," he promises you with eyes just as sparkly as your dress.

"So?" You grin. "There's only one I care about."

He could think of some flirtatious retort. Could joke with you. Could banter in the way that he usually would.

But he knows you'll have other men leering at you tonight.

Wants you to know that none of them compare to him.

Pulling you in for a kiss, hands on either side of your jaw, Jeongguk is so incredibly sincere as he mumbles against your lips, "I love you so much." He doesn't let you reply. Kisses you again. And again. Again, again, again. "So fuckin' lucky."

He's a little careless in how often he tells you of his affection. Doesn't care to hide it, nor pretend like it isn't how he feels. Spent so long denying himself of such simple human pleasures. Revels in it, now.

"Shush," you hush him with a smile. "Love you, too—but do you not think the dress is too much?"

You're a little cautious as you pull away. Feel insecure, even with his constant praising. Know that no one else will be dressed quite like this. It's a black-tie event, and most women will be in cocktail dresses, so it's not like you'll be totally out of place; you'll just be demanding attention.

"Since when do you ever care about being too much?" Jeongguk grins. Knows he's never given you any reason to feel that way. If anything, he'll always encourage you to demand more attention. "And no. You look gorgeous, B."

Rolling your eyes to hide the way you blush, you can't help but get a little smiley at such a compliment. "Yeah, but you have to say that."

"No, I don't," he says firmly. "You think I'd lie to you?"

"No."

"Exactly. So, stop fretting."

Tugging on your hand, Jeongguk encourages you towards the staircase leading back down to the gallery.

He guides you until you reach the very top of the stairs—then groans. Tilts his head back and squeezes your hand. Laughs through his wailing, standing totally still.

He'd been so confident, so keen, and now it seems like he's faltering. Squeezing his hand back, you silently let him know you're with him, no matter what.

"It's just... God, it's all out of my control, isn't it?" He asks when you question his sudden change in demeanour.

"Well, yeah," you reply. "But it doesn't have to be a bad thing, Gguk. Letting go of control is healthy."

He shakes his head. Realises now that his stomach is in absolute bits. The butterflies he got when he looked at you had disguised it for a moment. He much prefers the butterflies. Cast his eyes back to you, and finds himself cured.

Tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ear, Jeongguk is ever so gentle. Isn't looking in your eyes as such, just at your face. At his hands. At how perfectly poised you are for him, like his very own star suspended in the cosmos for him.

"Hey," you say quietly, the silence between you not uncomfortable but indicative of the fact that Jeongguk isn't entirely at ease.

"Hi," he whispers back.

Edging away from him, but keeping your hands clasped, you get your back up against the wall. Pull him close.

Brows furrowed, there's a haze of confusion haloing around him. He's curious about what you're doing, but trusts you in such a way that requires no clarification.

As you lift your wrist above your head and delicately cross them over, you keep your eyes on his. Whisper, "Take back control."

The way that Jeongguk's large hand wraps around your wrists and keeps them pinned above your head is innate; as if he was put on the early to catch a star.

His hips press against your tummy as his nose nudges down to stroke against yours.

"Yeah?"

Nodding, you let your lips brush against his. "Yeah."

The weight of his hips traps you in place, your body naturally succumbing to what feels right. His aftershave seems stronger, grip tighter. Everything about him is amplified, yet it doesn't come close to the chorus your heart is just dying to cry; declarations of love wrapped up in the sweetest of melodies.

A whisper would be enough. He's the only one who needs to know.

The pressure of his piercing against your lips as he presses down into a kiss always sends you a little bit insane. Today is no exception.

His tongue swipes against your bottom lip, and you give him the access he so desperately craves. Whimper into the sensation of being with him. Reciprocate his hard kisses with your soft lips.

Once upon a time, when the tigers still smoked, this was forbidden; folklore of your former selves. Funny, how you know a love like this will become the stuff of legends. Eternal. Written in the stars to be marvelled upon by mature astronomers for decades to come.

No one will know who put the constellation of you in the sky. They'll study your shine for years, yet won't be able to fathom that you were willed to be that way by a mere mortal man; loved so purely that your legacy will remain in the cosmos forever. It's a beautifully foolish idea. Whimsical Impossible. Implausible, even. But with him? Somehow it feels feasible.

Though his kisses have strength behind them, Jeongguk's tongue is gentle as it strokes against yours. A mess of lips, and meeting of tongues, neither of you care to keep quiet. No one's gonna find you up here. This is a space in time reserved for you and Jeongguk alone. The rest of the world can wait a moment longer.

You'll retrograde, and unlike Saturn or Pluto, it'll be better for everyone—'cause you'll also inevitably go direct again, and it'll be so much more fruitful if Jeongguk's mind is at ease.

You do, however, regret giving him leverage, 'cause all you want is your hands in his hair. The hand of his that isn't keeping you secure squeezes at your waist, and you're reminded of just how much you like giving up control to him.

Curved into a smile, Jeongguk's lips leave yours far quicker than you hoped they would. With a casual shake of his head, he decides that he's ready for the orbit to continue. Doesn't mind if he gets a little dizzy in the process.

"C'mon, B," he says as he positions you in front of his body, and encourages you down the stairs. "Save it for later. Best behaviour tonight."

You whine a little, regretfully far too turned on than you really should be at a time like this.

Still, you accept his encouragement down the stairs, and make sure your fingers are intertwined with his as you walk on down to the exhibition hall.

"Oh, I can pop this in the cloakroom for you," you chirp without much thought when you notice his bag tossed down by the podium at which you'll be conducting the auction later on that evening. Black leather, you recognise it from your time spent in his room. It's usually tucked beneath his desk.

"Actually," he interjects. "There's something I wanna talk to you about—we don't have to do it, but I kinda just had a passing thought, and maybe it could be helpful—"

He begins to ramble, but it's cut off by your laugh. "Just tell me."

A little bashful, and somewhat nervous, Jeongguk reaches for his bag. The zip scrapes open, and he retrieves a small box from a nearby printing shop. "Now they're nothing fancy, and I just kinda mocked them up because I wasn't sure if we—"

"Gguk," you laugh. "You're rambling. Tell me."

"Sorry," he grins, passing you over the box, figuring that he may as well just show you his idea.

Lifting open the box, you're greeted with the familiar scent of fresh ink. It's always been one that you've loved: newspapers, books, magazines. There's a nostalgia to it. Inside sit a wedge of business cards—except when you pull them out, you realise they're something different entirely.

"So what I'm thinking," he begins as you study one of the cards. "Is that people can buy these cards, right—" he points to an empty space on the back of the card "—and however much they spend is written on here. When the restaurant opens, it can be redeemed. So, like, put in 50,000 now, and then in like six months' time, if they come for a meal, we comp through however much is on their token. Like a gift card, or a voucher, or I dunno, even a bar tab. Just to build a little extra capital up and also give them something tangible in return. Build brand loyalty."

"This is smart," you tell him with a smile.

"It's just something we discussed at uni once," he says a little sheepishly. "Some festival did it to raise funds for booking acts. I just figured it wouldn't hurt to try?"

"It wouldn't hurt at all," you tell him, wanting him to know that his ideas are just as valid and worthwhile as yours. Feel guilty for not just including him right from the start. "We could set up a stand near the cloakroom? There's space for it, and it'll mean everyone will pass it."

"Yeah?" He says, a little unsure of himself.

"Yeah, Gguk," you encourage. Stand on your tiptoes and give him a gentle kiss before pressing the box to his chest. "Go. Tae is near the cloakroom. You guys have full control. Set it up how you like."

"Are you—"

"I'm sure," you promise. "Go. I'll see you in a bit."

With a silent nod but a smile so bright it's practically blinding you, Jeongguk walks backwards for a few steps. Doesn't want to take his eyes off you. Pursing your lips, suppressing a grin, you blow a kiss in his direction, which is enough to satisfy him. He blows one back, then turns to head down the hallway.

Sighing so deeply the tides could change, you look around the room. Mutter to yourself, "Let's do this."

You always think you're not quite right for the glitz and glam that comes with the artistic industry, but come show nights, it's a surprise just how at home you feel.

Surrounded by art, and people who appreciate it, you're able to discuss your passion at length. As much as you love the art cafe, there's so much you can say about paint strokes with couples who come in for a fun date activity.

Watching on from across the room, Jeongguk thinks you shine brightest like this.

His view of you is obscured by the easel Taehyung is working at, and the routine Danbi is performing on the pole. Though Taehyung has seen Danbi like this a hundred times over—how her muscles work and flex beneath her skin, and the concentration yet serenity on her pretty face—he's never painted it so explicitly.

The stroke of his brush comes with ease, just like Danbi's movements appear to be. They really do make the perfect match, Jeongguk thinks.

When he glances back over to you, noticing how you're holding the little charm on your necklace, he wonders what people think when they see you together. It doesn't matter, really, but he hopes you're the kind of couple people grow envious of. He knows damn well he'd be jealous of himself.

And as the space beside him fills with a looming presence he would rather not acknowledge, he knows he's not the only one.

"Cleans up well, doesn't she?" A voice that Jeongguk had forgotten was quite so arrogant says.

Swigging back his drink, Jeongguk deliberates whether or not a reply is owed. If he felt like the dig was about him, he'd ignore it, but you're the one being spoken about. Of course he's not gonna just let it slide. Will be a petulant little brat about it.

"Seokmin," Jeongguk grimaces, deliberately getting his name wrong again.

"We both know you know my name," Seokjin smirks, adjusting his posture and broadening his shoulders. Lowering his voice, there's something sinister about the way he mutters, "No doubt you hear it in her sheets from time to time."

It's sort of funny how you considered roundhousing Hayun with a chair the last time you saw her. Jeongguk is thinking of doing something very similar to Seokjin.

"I know your name 'cause you're a clingy ex who won't stop sending her flowers," Jeongguk scoffs. Considers being vulgar. Mentioning the way you whine his name. Respects you too much to do it, though. All he really wants is for Seokjin to leave, so he lays it straight. "The auction tonight is for my start-up, so don't waste your time. I'm sure you won't want to lose your money to me, and frankly, I don't want it."

"You're right," Seokjin nods. "I'd rather not give you a penny, but I'm particularly interested in one of the listings."

Opening up the pamphlet, Seokjin pretends to skim through it until he finds the listing. Doesn't need to. Already knows which number it is. It's also right at the front. He's making a big old song and dance out of things just to piss Jeongguk off.

"Ah!" He continues. "That's it. Number one."

Jeongguk grates his jaw. Keeps his eyes on you. Is hard in his gaze. He doesn't want you to look his way and see the state of him, but he knows that his breathing exercises only calm him so much. You're the one thing that really grounds him.

" Experience for two at Pot & Paint Art Cafe ," Seokjin reads aloud. " Expertly hosted, it says, but we both know who'll be looking after the winners, don't we? Would be a waste for me not to win it."

He's deliberately trying to push Jeongguk's buttons. A few months ago, it might have worked.

But a lot can change in a few months.

"I might not bother taking anyone with me," Seokjin continues like the vapid narcissist he is. "Just me and her. I always hated that cafe, but there's that chair of hers—the one in the corner, her favourite..." he trails off. Smirks. "Yeah, I hate that cafe, but it can be fun when it's just me and her."

Jeongguk knows he should be angry. Knows that the 'correct' response to Seokjin's baiting should be red-hot fury.

But instead, Jeongguk just laughs .

It's not sarcastic. Not cruel.

If anything, it's hearty. Loud. Makes his head lean back, shoulders lifting to his ears. Has you glancing in his direction, smiling too—until you notice who is standing directly beside him.

Brows raised, you recognise the expression on Seokjin's face well. Knows that he'll be scoffing soon. Rolling his eyes, maybe. A year ago, you might have cared.

Now, all you can do is find your eyes dragged back home to a smile you never want to lose.

"Ah, that's funny, man," Jeongguk says with a shake of his head. "No, really. That's, like, the most deluded shit I've heard in weeks, and trust me, you should meet my ex. You'd get on like a house on fire. 'It can be fun,' " he imitates Seokjin, voice all goofy. Laughs, again. "Oh, fuckin' hell, man. That really tickled me. Good joke."

If he were to psychoanalyse himself—which he won't, not now that he has a therapist to do it for him—he'd probably realise he's developed a nervous response to stressful situations. Did the same exact thing when you told him you wanted to end things back in the Dionysus cloakroom. Had laughed and told you no.

The idea of Seokjin being with you, especially in the art cafe, makes Jeongguk feel sick, quite frankly.

And so, even if he seems unphased, Jeongguk has no qualms in asserting his dominance. Sure, he may be younger. Might not have his shit together.

But you love him in spite of it all.

He doesn't need Seokjin's approval.

"Look, I dunno why you insist on chasing around a girl half your age," Jeongguk says with a flippant arrogancy that can only ever be charming from a man like him. Though you're only a couple of years younger than Seokjin, Jeongguk reckons it's his youth that Seokjin is really envious of, so he plays into it. After all, it's the only thing money can't buy. "But I've been doing exactly what I said I would back at the tennis club: putting that youth of mine to good use. She's not interested, mate. So, if you don't mind, old man, stop looking at my girlfriend like she's yours."

Patting Seokjin's arm just to ensure that salt is rubbed into the wound, Jeongguk smiles as he walks away. Doesn't care to play nice. In fact, he doesn't care to play at all. Whatever game Seokjin wants to play, he can play alone.

Jeongguk slinks through the crowd that's watching Taehyung paint, and heads straight for you. He places his hand on the small of your back, joining your conversation. His spare hand reaches out to shake hands with the associate you've been talking with.

You're all smiles as you introduce him.

" Ah, the man of the hour graces us with his presence," You beam. "This is Jeon Jeongguk, the founder of the restaurant we're raising funds for this evening."

"Unique," the older gentleman you've been speaking with says as he shakes Jeongguk's hand. "It's an innovative way to get investments. I'm impressed."

Knowing him as well as you do, you're sure Jeongguk will throw it all back to you, so you don't let him.

"He's a sure bet," you assure the gentleman. "Hands of Midas, this one."

"Oh, I'm sure," he kindly agrees before you excuse yourself and leave Jeongguk to chat with potential investors.

As you depart, you subtly rub his back just to give him a little boost. He doesn't need you hanging on his side for the whole night. Will do well to speak with the art snobs independently of you.

After all, he's building a brand and needs to be the face of it—not just known as the curator's partner.

"Doing well, isn't he?" Seoyeon purrs, passing you a champagne flute as you join her by the bar.

Taking a sip, your eyes are locked in on him. He's laughing, now. Cracking jokes. Is so charismatic it's hard to forget how shy he can be.

"Incredibly well," you fondly praise. "He never would have done this a year ago."

"And who do we have to thank for that?" Seoyeon giggles, nudging against your shoulder. Her hair is loose, tiny plaits scattered throughout. Yoongi is across the room with the boys, a single plait secured in his hair, too. They really are a perfect couple.

It's interesting that you'd think that of them.

You, a cosmic entity; Jeongguk, stars for eyes. You're just as perfectly aligned as the Mins are.

"He'd have done it eventually," you smile. "Just needed a little push."

"Well, aren't we glad you were there to do it," she kindly says, then begins to ask about some of the auction listings.

You're thankful for the excuse to ramble on about it.

In a way, you're practising your pitches. Are a little bit nervous about standing on stage in front of everyone there and beginning an auction. While you won't be the one actually calling the bids in—you've hired someone from the local auction house for that—you still have the duty to present all of the items first.

It doesn't take long for Jeongguk to excuse himself from his conversation. Had gone in search of you earlier, but like the shooting star you are, you'd evaded him. Seoyeon squeezes your arms as he approaches you and makes her own excuses. Wants to give you this moment with Jeongguk alone.

His eyebrows raise upon seeing this, but a smile also graces his lips.

"Am I really such terrible company?" He playfully asks you, reaching for your hand. He lifts your knuckles to his lips and presses a sweet kiss against them, knowing better than to be so outwardly affectionate with you in a professional environment.

"Oh, the worst," you nod. "I only stick around for the money."

"A gold digger and a man without a penny to his name," he assesses, standing shoulder to shoulder beside you. Both looking out to the sea of people in front of you, it feels like you're on dry land when you're together. "What a pair we make."

"The stuff of Hollywood films," you hum in agreement. "Next time we're at a motel, that can be our cover story."

"Next time?" He smirks. "Thought you said it'd never happen again?"

"Well, beggars can't be choosers now, can they?" You sigh as if you're really bothered by the lack of financial stability your relationship offers you. Maybe it's naive, but you really think it's inconsequential. You'll be stable one day; for now, you're stable in so many other ways. "If it's the only way we can afford to hook up, then I guess we'll have to."

"And they say romance is dead."

Glancing up to him, you're amazed at how flippantly you speak of such matters, now.

"Let's not pretend like it's the worst place we've ever—"

"Byeol," he quietly scolds you, but he just can't help that damn smile of his. "We're here for business, not pleasure."

"Tell that to Jeongguk up by the roof a couple of hours ago."

"Still thinking about it?"

Your subtle grimace is hidden well. "Regretfully."

He smiles when he hears this. Is vindicated by your relentless desire to be with him. You're so flippantly vulgar when it comes to your desperation, and he finds it far hotter than he thinks he should, as if human attraction has never known such a karmic pull before.

Gaze hard on the crowd of people all mingling and chatting, he wonders how long it would take for anyone to notice you weren't around. If anyone would look for you, and upon failure, would look for him too. How easy it would be to work out exactly what's going on.

And yet he can't help but ask, "How long until the auction?"

"About twenty minutes," you guess. Haven't checked the time in a little while, but pride yourself in your judgement of time passing. Still, you reach for his wrist. Check his watch. Smile. "Yeah, twenty minutes."

Jeongguk weighs up his pros and cons. Tries to give it considered thought. Clasps your fingers with his, then says, "I need your opinion on something."

The way you let him guide you out of the room is damn near comical. Anything he asks of you, he'll likely get. Plus, you like that he values your opinion. Makes you feel seen. Heard. A lot of the things he does make you feel that way.

He's dastardly confident as he leads you down the hallway and back to the stairwell that takes you up to the rooftop.

"Something out here," he tells you over his shoulder.

You're not really sure why you don't protest. Don't tell him that now isn't the time to be going up there; that you're expected to be in the main hall very shortly.

His pied-piper grip on your attention has you following him regardless. Off you trot, up and away.

The inky-black skies have already spilt into the horizon. Lights spread through the valleys that surround the city, like whispers spreading far and wide. Rumours. Much the ones you could envisage trickling through the city's artistic elite if they noticed the Ryu's darling and some rogue tattooed charmer galavanting away together.

In all likelihood, no one would care.

It's just fun to pretend like you and Jeongguk are something worthy of the story books; as if the New York Times would have to cease its chart, for all the tales would be of Jeongguk and his star. Your adventures, far and wide. Paperback, hardback, special editions. Devoured by masses, adored by those who just got it.

But you're none of those silly little stories you dream up together. You're not wanted by Interpol, you're not star-crossed lovers, and you're definitely super spies, either.

You're just a guy and a girl.

Yet when Jeongguk has you alone on that roof, back pressed to the far wall, and his kisses feel as cosmic as they do, it'd be easy to pretend you're so much more.

"My opinion?" You mumble through the kisses you really don't want to stop. Whine a little as his strong hands begin to roam your body, squeezing and stroking wherever they can with little regard for the dress you're wearing. He might've been the one who bought it, but he wants it off just as much as he wanted to see it on. "You wanted it? On what?"

"On how quickly you think it'll take for me to make you cum."

"Gguk," you groan, as if your hands aren't working your way down his shirt. Miraculously, through no fault of your own, his buttons end up threaded through their loops. Undone. Oh, no . His chest is far more exposed than it was. Totally has nothing to do with you, or the fact that you like his chest just as much as he likes yours. "We can't."

"We shouldn't ," he corrects you. "But we most definitely can ."

As you laugh, he pulls back slightly. Tucks hair behind your ear. Gets his eyes on yours, and it's only then that you realise he must have planets in them now. Entire solarsystems. They just shine in a way that can't be earthly.

"You know how pretty you are after we fuck? You literally glow, Byeol," he praises. "I reckon people will want to bid more if they see you like that."

"What?" You laugh, bashful at the idea of people seeing you in a way that's reserved for Jeongguk and Jeongguk alone. "Fucked out?"

"Nah," he smirks into your lips, pressing down into a soft kiss. "Just pretty—but I can make a real mess of you if you'd rather? Ruin you, if you want."

"They'd never let me back here," you assure him, pushing him away, and then pulling him right back.

"Fine," he smiles, his body moving entirely up to your will. If you want him away, he'll go. Will respect your wishes. Be the gentleman you know him to be. But you haven't told him 'no', yet. Chess remains unspoken.

As his lips find a new home in the crook of your neck, chess is the last thing on your mind.

"I can play nice, too," he mumbles against your throat, wet kisses being pressed to your skin. He's obsessed with the scent of your hair, nose stroking against you. Groaning as he does so, Jeongguk doesn't care to hide the way you make him come undone. He's weak, and he wants you to know it. You gave him control earlier, but he doesn't want it. "I can be a good boy for you, hmm? Would you like that baby? Like me on my knees for you?"

Tall, broad, Cruel Summer-coded Devil; Jeongguk on his knees for you is the last thing you need at this moment.

Yet somehow it feels like it's the only thing you need, now that the thoughts have been planted.

They'll blossom in your head. Ideas of him, and his catastrophic eyes looking up at you. The feeling of him taking ownership of your sex with his mouth, and your heart with his eyes. Like vines of ivy, you'll become ensnared by him. Will realise too late that it's poisonous—and by that point, what else is there to do but succumb to a little death?

"You're literally gonna make me cum in like 5 seconds if you keep that up," you tell him. "I might die."

He doesn't mention it, but he does smile when he realises you've started talking like him. So integrated into one another's lives, it's getting harder to remember a time when you weren't utterly besotted.

"Keep what up?" He plays dumb, just as bratty as you so often like to be. You're not the only one mirroring. He's just as influenced by you as you are by him. "I just wanna make you feel good."

"You do," you softly moan into his touch. His lips are intentional against your throat, but it worries you. "No hickies, Gguk."

He nods, sucking just a little longer than he should but not hard enough to leave a mark.

Though he apologises, he's boyish and brass when his vulgar lips beg, "Just let me suck on your clit, instead. Please . I'll be so quick. I promise."

"Gguk," you whine, as if your body isn't one or two terms of endearment away from folding.

"I'll make you cum so hard," he whispers against your lips. "All on my tongue. You want that, huh, baby? You want the taste of your gorgeous cunt in my mouth?"

"I don't think you'll be quick enough," you reply between frantic kisses. This is a blatant lie, and you both know it.

"Let me try," he pleads.

Pressing kisses along your jaw, Jeongguk skillfully works his lips down your throat, chest, valley of your breasts. Is interrupted by your dress, and takes it as an invitation to skip it entirely. Crouches. Holds your hips as he kisses up your thighs.

The rooftop isn't private. Anyone could walk up at any second. The danger of it all excites you just as much as it terrifies you.

"I'm on my knees," he states the obvious, his hands creeping up the front of your dress. "I'm begging ."

Pathetically, all you can do is gasp a little as he pushes the fabric up. Curses when he's greeted with your lace-covered cunt. Lets his nose nudge up against you, just 'cause he can think of few scents he loves more. He knows it's the pheromones that make him this insatiable, but he doesn't give a fuck. Would wear you like a perfume if he could.

"Five seconds," you compromise. "That's all you get. Just a taste."

He doesn't argue against it. Knows you well enough now to know that timing just isn't your thing.

Instead, he pulls back. Hooks a finger beneath the fabric of your underwear, and tugs it to the side. Almost fuckin' whimpers as he watches strings of slick arousal cling to the lace.

He spreads your pussy apart with his fingers, and swears he might die at the sight of it.

Desperately wet, Jeongguk loves just how keenly your body responds to him.

If you had control over it, you'd hold back. Wouldn't give him such satisfaction—but you can't, and so you both have to live with the knowledge that sex will only ever be this good with him. You'll just have to stay with him forever, or something dumb like that, you guess. Shame.

"Gonna waste your time," you warn him.

"Just looking," he mumbles while his nose strokes up against your clit. "Doesn't count yet."

"You're bending the rules, Koo," you gently tell him. "Behave yourself, or you won't get anything."

"No," he whines. "Please. I just... God, B. You don't understand how fuckin' hot you are." And then he smiles. Shakes his head. Presses a single pouty kiss just above your clit. "My pretty girlfriend and her gorgeous cunt. Fuck. I love you."

Part of you thinks he's just saying it to buy time.

But you know it to be true, too.

"I love you, too," you whisper, stroking your fingers through his hair.

His tongue gently traces against your clit. Once. Twice.

"Doesn't count," he says again, voice hushed against you, the warmth of his breath cooling his spit.

"Five," you begin to count down.

Afraid he'll miss his chance, Jeongguk wraps his lips around your clit, latching onto you with such incredible force it's impossible to keep counting. Immediately, he just sort of takes your breath away. It'd be romantic if it weren't so sordid. Hands tangled in his hair, you keep him pressed to your pussy.

"Oh, fuck," you moan. "Feels so good."

But Jeongguk is dressed like a gentleman tonight. Will follow your rules, just like he always has done.

He pulls away before you've even really begun to acknowledge the sensation of pleasure he commands through your body. He's catching a quick breath, too. Looks up at you, eyes devastatingly doe-like.

"More?" he poutily asks.

And you just can't stop yourself from nodding, fingers still raked in his hair. "Yeah, baby. More, please."

He doesn't need telling twice. His lips press kisses against you, tongue stroking. With long, flat licks, and sharp, direct flicks, he varies his rhythm like there's music in his veins. Is an expert at the melody of you. Can play along without any sheet music. Just needs you as his conductor.

And conduct, you do.

"Fingers," you whimper after no more than a minute.

"Hm?" Hums against you as if he isn't desperate to do more. He just wants you begging, now.

"Finger me, Gguk."

Again, he doesn't need telling twice. His long middle finger pushes into you, curving instantly. He knows your body well enough now to know all your weak points. When your legs do a little involuntary shake, he knows he's found what he's after.

"So fuckin' good," you whine, head tipping back, one of your hands reaching back to hold onto the wall for support. "Keep going."

A second thick finger is pushed into you with ease. So desperate for him, you know that you'd probably even be fine with three. It'd be no match for his cock, and how perfectly it stretches you out. The thought of it alone is enough to make you moan.

"Oh, god," you breathe out as the sensation of building pleasure washes over you. You're so much closer than you really ought to be. Just a natural consequence of the honour you think comes with fucking a man like him; knowing that you make an earth-bound deity like him weak, too.

"Hold that thought, baby," Jeongguk whispers, pulling away from you, fingers still stroking up against your g-spot. His lips are covered in your arousal, the sheen of moonlight making him look ever so pretty. "Phone."

Your eyes are locked on him, even as he takes his phone from his pocket to check the caller ID.

And to your fucking shock, he answers it.

It's more than that, though.

He answers with a smirk. Looks up at you as he says hello—and then silently lets his tongue slowly drag up your cunt.

"B?" He questions down the phone a second later, the pace of his fingers increasing. "She's just walking off some nerves, I think."

And his tongue is back on you, phone held an inch or so away until he hears the person on the other end finish. You're so scared that the stop-start nature of his teasing will push you over the edge. It's the textbook play to make you cum just that little bit harder, just how Jeongguk really loves it. He's already had a few glasses of champagne tonight, but he'd rather have yours any day of the week. There's just no way in hell you can let it happen, not when he needs to go and face people afterwards.

"The rooftop, yeah," he says, smirking as you widen your eyes. "Nah, you don't need to grab her, I'll go."

He mouths at you to shush, his pretty smile shining just for you.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he says down the phone. "Typical isn't it? Climax of the evening, and she's nowhere to be found. Don't worry, though; I've got this, Hobbes. Yeah, yeah, I'll make her come. No worries."

When he hangs up, his lopsided grins doesn't even think to utter an apology.

"Hear that?" he teases. "Gotta hurry up and cum, baby."

"He's gonna disown us both," you tell him, but Jeongguk just shakes his head. Nudges his nose up against you. Presses a kiss to your clit, then gets back to business.

It's like an old dance at this point. Jeongguk knows all the steps. He could make you cum so easily if he wanted to—and now, he does want to. He's had his fun. Knows that no matter how hard you cum, you won't be fully satisfied until he fucks you.

"Cum before he starts looking for you, and he'll never know," Jeongguk shrugs his shoulders, then begins to rub small circles on your clit with his other hand. It's a combination he knows has lethal outcomes.

Your legs are frail and limp as he begins his relentless pursuit of your pleasure.

"That's it, babe," he husk. "Cum for for me."

Like the collapse of a damn, the sensation of Jeongguk's fingers spills you over the edge. The trembling of your whines and the shaking of your legs give it away. Your grip on his hair is painfully tight, but he kinda likes it.

"Attagirl, baby," he praises, then wraps his lips around your clit for the final few pulses of your orgasm. Moans against you. Nods. Pulls away from you slowly. Laughs. Rests his head against your thigh. "Just cancel the auction. Let me fuck you, instead."

Laughing now, too, you shake your head and encourage him to his feet. He's about to nudge his nose against yours when you stop him in his tracks.

"Uh-uh," you shake your head. "I've gotta go schmooze people."

"But I just made you cum."

"And you know I love you for it," you promise. Hold his chin so he can't sneakily divert his lips as you press a kiss to his cheek, then whisper in his ear, "But you also know I'm gonna return the favour later, Gguk."

"I'll die before you get the chance," he whines.

You sigh with a smile. Glance behind yourself to check that the coast is clear, before you do something you would have never dreamt of doing with anyone else.

Hooking your thumbs beneath either side of your underwear, you quickly shimmy them down your legs, until they're by your ankles. Stepping out of them before they reach the floor, your elevated heels act as a saving grace, you're sin dressed up in a pretty dress.

Jeongguk watches on, wholly bemused. Licks his lips when you stand directly in front of him, then silently lets them part as you press the soaked fabric against them.

He welcomes your underwear in his mouth. Sucks the taste of you from lace, his heavenly eyes closed, lashes splaying on his cheeks.

Without a word, you pull them back. Begin to fiddle with his belt buckle and find it incredibly easy to loosen. Unbuttoning his trousers, you're well aware that you're pressed for time, but you don't care. Nothing else matters.

He groans as your hand dips down into his boxers. He's so hard. It's gonna be damn hard for him to hide it. Might have to send you back down alone.

But when you start jerking him off with the same hand that's holding your soaked underwear? The wet fabric pressed against him as your other hand grips his hair to keep his eyes on yours?

God, he thinks he'll die .

But then you've got that look on your face—the one that Jeongguk know means no good. Wrapping the fabric around his thick shaft, you pump his cock once more. Twice, because you just can't help it. Readjust him. Get his desperate desire for you obscured. He's in boxer briefs, which helps. They're tight, and if you angle things just right, he can hide the fact he's two damn strokes away from coming undone.

You do his trousers back up. Belt, too.

"I'm literally gonna cum in my pants," Jeongguk groans, all pathetic and stroppy.

"No, you won't," you grin, though you'd kind of love it if he did. Turning to walk away, you call after him. "C'mon! I need to run to the bathroom, quickly. Can you tell Hobes I'll just be a minute?"

Jeongguk is right behind you. Lifts your dress as you walk ahead of him just to squeeze your ass cheeks. You let him. Just sort of ignore it, because it's not exactly an unusual occurrence with him.

Part of you is worried about this whole no-underwear thing. It's a short dress; all it'll take is a little stumble to flash an entire room of people you're trying to impress.

It's painfully clear that your desperate need to fuck Jeongguk at all times will surely one day be detrimental, but for now, you'll hope for the best.

"I'm so fuckin' hard I'm gonna die," he tells you again. Is a little sterner. A little more convicted. Has fully convinced himself that mortality lingers on undelivered orgasms. "I can't talk to Hoseok like this. What if he thinks it's for him ?"

"He'd probably be up for it as long as Joon could join in, too," you tease him, then add, "But it'll probably help if you stop touching my ass."

"Okay, firstly, what's yours is mine. And secondly, please don't put that mental image of Joon into my head—"

"Kinda hot."

"Byeol."

"What? He's got great thighs."

"Keep this up, and I'll bend you over mine," he threatens, as if the prospect of getting spanked doesn't excite you even more.

"Oh, nooo," you feign distress. "Please, don't do that! I hate it when you do that!"

Laughing, Jeongguk does give you a light spank just before you start heading down the stairs. "You're the fuckin' worst."

"S'why you're with me," you beam. Even if Jeongguk can't see your smile, he can hear it. Knows how radiant you must look right now.

Gently brushing the front of his trousers, Jeongguk checks to make sure his cock is as disguised as it can be. Hopes it just looks like he's packing—of which he most definitely is, but that's beyond the point.

Once you reach the bottom of the stairs, Jeongguk squeezes your side just before you head in opposite directions. It's a silent comfort. He touches you so often, not because he likes to be a nuisance, but because it eases that part of his brain that really is a nuisance.

Picking up one of the complimentary mints by the front desk, Jeongguk bites into it as he heads towards the main gallery hall. He knows that as much as your taste is his favourite thing in the world, it's not exactly appropriate for such an occasion.

Then again, nor is having your wet thong wrapped around his cock, but that's neither here nor there.

"Find her?" Hoseok asks as Jeongguk tries to slip into the room unnoticed.

Nodding, Jeongguk also reaches for a champagne flute on the tray being carried by a server.

"Yeah, she's just checking herself over in the bathroom."

"Okay, good. Oh, also—" Hoseok reaches over to tweak one of the buttons on Jeongguk's shirt. Looking down, Jeongguk realises he'd left far more undone than he thought he had. "—If you're gonna tell white lies about what you're up to, don't get caught red-handed. Or glitter-handed, would be better, I suppose. Maybe you should have gone to the bathroom, too. Checked yourself over, Cassanova."

Scrunching his face up, Jeongguk doesn't have time to respond before Hoseok swans off again. It's far better than his boner being noticeable, but it's embarrassing nonetheless. Better Hoseok notice rather than anyone else, though.

One day, the pair of you will be able to control yourselves, but it is not today. Likely won't be tomorrow, or the next day, either. In fact, it probably won't ever happen, but you can pretend like dignity will one day be a trait in your repertoire.

Still, when Jeongguk notices you smiling and chatting with important people in suits a few minutes later, he can't help but think you look incredibly dignified.

Then he remembers you're without your underwear. Considers dying again.

Through the speaker system, Shinwon's voice calls the room to attention. Unbeknownst to you both, it's perhaps the third time he's given a small indication for people to gather in the main hall.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the skills auction is about to commence. Please join us in the main Gallery Hall. Auction directories are available at the back of the room."

The chatter quietens down, and it's up to you to lead command of the room.

There's no stage, thank god, just a podium for the auctioneer to stand behind. The underwear situation would have been dreadful otherwise.

Jeongguk watches on with unbridled adoration as you work the room. It's one thing to see you command a conversation amongst friends. Another, amongst professionals. But this? All eyes on you? Everyone sparkling in your presence? It's an honour.

He wonders how many people will begin to adorn themselves in glitter as a result of you. Wonders if you realise just how captivating you truly are.

The audience laughs when you're a little bit awkward in the most charming of ways, and they cheer when you reveal the first ticket item to be one you personally submitted.

"Now, I may be slightly biased, but even though this is the first item of the night, I think it's just as valuable as some of our later items. Someone always has to go first, though. It's an honour to kick off the auction with a private evening for two at Pot & Paint—arguably the city's finest artist establishment," you joke, knowing damn well that you've got nothing on the Ryu. The audience laughs with you, which does settle your nerves a little bit.

"Hosted by yours truly," you continue, "It's the perfect opportunity to unwind and indulge in your own artistic talents. Included are all the materials you'll need, four hours reserved off just for you, and complimentary drinks throughout the evening. Hosted by yours truly, I'll be there to assist throughout the night. Perfect for a date, for friends, or family. This is a money can't buy experience, as we don't typically do private rentals. There's a reserve of 50 thousand won."

Pitch complete, you pass control over the auctioneer to kick off the bidding process. Taking a deep breath, you'd been able to hide just how nervous you were while you were speaking. Your body language is far more reserved now that you're no longer performing.

Glancing up, you find Jeongguk in the crowd, and it all just sort of melts away.

He pouts his lips together. Presses a kiss into the air. Smiles, when you smile, too. Nods. You did good, B.

The auction starts with ease. Ten thousand, then twenty. Before you know it, the fifty thousand threshold has been hit. Your first real victory of the night. Sure, fifty thousand won won't buy you much—some cutlery, or maybe just a couple of pizzas for the team after a hard day of working at the restaurant—but it's a start.

You haven't been keeping an eye on Jeongguk's bar tab idea, wanting to leave that to him, so you really have no idea how things stand at the moment.

The bidders are random audience members. There's not much buzz around this listing—after all, people are here for the big items like Yoogni's custom furniture and Taehyung's art—but it's a nice way to ease the crowd into bidding.

Your eyes follow the raised papers when new bids are called.

But then eighty thousand won is called, and the elation that's been simmering in your veins freezes over.

Standing towards the back of the crowd, hand raised, smirk present, is Kim Seokjin. Every bit the asshole he always has been. Has that look upon his face you always used to hate; I win.

"Ninety thousand," calls a far more comforting voice from across the room, and just like that, your blood feels warm once more.

Gaze hard; Jeongguk is locked in on you. There are stars in the space between you, but it feels like a black hole is about to swallow you right up.

"A hundred thousand." Seokjin's voice booms through the room, but it isn't enough to shatter the vibrational pull Jeongguk has on you.

"A hundred and fifty thousand," Jeongguk calls out, raising his hand. Doesn't care how ridiculous the price might be. What he's doing isn't making a bet. Not really. He's making a promise.

I've got you, baby, his slow nod and furrowed brows tell you.

"Two hundred," Seokjin calls without missing a beat.

Jeongguk glances across to Seokjin. Glares. Briefly considers throwing his champagne flute at Seokjin's head.

Instead, he refocuses on you. Ups his bid. "Two fifty."

"Three hundred."

"Three fifty."

Anyone who doesn't know you would most likely think nothing much of the unfolding bidding battle. It's an auction. It's what happens. They just really love painting, apparently. The best—or should that be the wealthiest—man always wins.

The issue is that Jeongguk can bid all he likes, but you both know he doesn't have the money to pay for it. The only person he'll be cheating is himself when the night's earnings are tallied, and he'll have lost out on however much a genuine bid could have been for the private use of the art cafe.

This place is full of art lovers, critics, and collectors. Though it was never a high-ticket item, it was still one that you know you could have made money from.

Everyone can see Jeongguk and Seokjin battling it out. Nobody else is even gonna bother.

Their bids inch up and up and up. You wish you had never mentioned that you'd personally be at the winners' beck and call for the duration of their time spent in the cafe. You know that's what's motivating Seokjin right now.

"Five hundred thousand," he says, hand raised, an arrogant smirk being rightfully ignored by you.

"Six hundred," Jeongguk counters, growing impatient with this stupid fuckin' game of cat and mouse.

And so Seokjin decides to really rub salt in the wounds of Jeongguk's financial instability. He doesn't know much about him, but he knows he's just finished school and is relying on fundraising for his business.

It's cute, Seokjin thinks, that Jeongguk believes he can satisfy a girl like you.

"One million won."

There's silence. A gasp or two.

Until, all rather suddenly, there's a sigh. A cough. A hand raised towards the back of the room, far behind both Jeongguk and Seokjin.

Husky as he speaks, the new bidder draws a stunned silence from the room when he simply says, "One hundred million won."

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modelbus · 2 years ago

Text

This might be more on the angst side… oops? Also, this is like 3k words… There are POV switches!! And this was inspired by an ao3 story with a similar premise but that was with Kaz and Wylan so there’s that.

There is alcohol and suggestiveness in this! Be warned, it’s a bit different than my usual!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

Flufftober 4 - It’s All An Act (Spies)

"Sorry, what?" You stare at Kaz, and he stares back evenly.

"It's a simple mission. You don't have to do anything."

"Then why do you need me?"

He sighs, gloved hand tightening and loosening on his crow cane. Without a doubt, he was upset at you for not getting it, but forgive you for being a little startled when he asks you to pretend to date him!

"It'll be too suspicious if I show up alone. All I need you for is pretending to date me. But carry some weapons in case things go... awry."

"You want me to go with you to a party, pretend to date you, and... that's it?"

"That's it."

You stare at him for a few more moments, trying to figure out if he had any other angle. Most times, Kaz Brekker kept his crows in the loop. But there were times when he didn't, and you knew him too well to not try and figure out if it was or wasn't.

Although you were the second newest crow (thanks to Wylan for taking the newest title) you and Kaz actually somewhat got along. You’re certain it's because he values you ability to kill without hesitation. That's what you are to him: his assassin. Your role, your one job, was to kill and to kill efficiently.

He didn't question why you were able to kill so easy, and you didn't question his aversion to touch and water. You got along, and things were fine.

Or, they were, until you had to go and start noticing stupid things about him. Like the way he looked mid-fight, slamming his cane into someone. Or the way his lips would barely twitch when one of them said something particularly funny. It took you a bit to realize, but when you did you knew you were royally fucked.

Because, of course, you started to develop feelings for Kaz Brekker. Feelings that, as long as you were sane, would stay quite hidden. Which only made this whole job harder.

He wanted you to pretend to date him. It might just be the hardest thing he's asked of you yet, and he doesn't even know it.

"Take the job. Wish I could go to a party." Jesper grumbles, and you glance at the sharp shooter sitting next to you.

"Unfortunately, no one in their sound mind would believe we were dating." Kaz says cooly. "That, and everyone knows your face around here."

You grimace. Your own insurance, coming to bite you in the ass. Most people only saw you face before you killed them. It was easier to sneak around in plain sight that way. Obviously the crows were the exceptions, and maybe a few others out there.

"You're sure nobody else wants to do this?" You try.

"Wylan and Jesper are far too in love for me to take Wylan, Inej is out hunting slavers, and Nina..." He shakes his head.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll do the stupid job."

You sigh, knowing this job very well might be the death of you. Emotional death, that is. But then again, it was Kaz. Surely he wasn't the type to be a touchy fake date, not with his touch aversion.

"Good. Meet me down here at nine sharp tomorrow night. Dress nice, have concealed weapons."

Kaz walks off, not waiting for you to confirm you understood his directions. You scowl at his back before sighing.

"This will be a disaster."

"I'm sure it'll be fun!" Jesper exclaims. "It's a party, how bad can it be?"

"I have to fake date Kaz Brekker." You deadpan.

"Yeah, but he wants you for arm candy. To draw the attention away from him. That's the closest to a compliment you'll ever get out of him."

You can't help but sigh again. "We take what we can get with him, don't we?"

Kaz is waiting for you outside the Crow Club when you arrive. He isn't dressed any different from his normal, except a pocket watch with a fancier chain than you’re used to. His gaze is level as he gazes at you as you walk towards him.

And you knows you looks good, but that isn't why he's looking at you. You’re in a nice outfit for once, flowing sleeves down to your wrists, and black gloves up to your elbows nearly. The gloves and long sleeves were carefully planned, knowing exactly what role you’d be playing tonight.

"How many knives do you have?" Kaz asks, looking behind you, almost like he's checking to see if you were followed by anyone.

"Seven." You grin. You may be a pretty distraction tonight, but you’re just as dangerous as you are pretty.

"Good." He nods. Not approval, but close enough. "Let's go."

You walk next to him as they go through the streets of Ketterdam, slowly heading to the more expensive places. The streets widen, becoming more and more lit as they go, and you realize that maybe you should've asked whose party this was.

"So, Brekker. Lovely night, isn't it?" You ask conversationally. From the very start You’ve always used his last name, and haven’t even thought of changing that despite how he always ground his teeth at it.

"What do you want?" He snaps.

"Come on, be nicer to your date." You can't help yourself. Kaz might not react much, but it's funny when he does react.

"This was a bad idea."

"But we're too far into it now."

Kaz's jaw clenches, and you can't help but laugh quietly. "So, the plan?"

He sighs, and you wait a moment. Although he's sometimes an asshole, and mostly keeps things to himself, he's always told you everything you needed to know in a plan.

"Just look pretty and act stupid. Do what I tell you, for once." He finally says.

"Oh, yikes, that'll be really hard. I mean, listening to you?" You joke.

Kaz pulls up short, slamming his cane out in front of you. "I mean it, assassin."

And just as you called him Brekker, he called you by your job. Assassin.

"You can't call me that tonight." You respond calmly. "It'll give us away."

"Say it."

You groan. "Fine. I'll listen to you."

He nods sharply, continuing on. "Good."

"You're a little paranoid, don't you think?"

Kaz doesn't even justify you with an answer at that one, leaving you to walk alongside him quietly.

"This is it." He announces suddenly, and draws up short.

You let your eyes flicker over the building—tons of windows—then return to him. "...are you sure?"

"Yes. Inside. Now."

The second you take a step in, you shrink yourself. Shoulders curling in, angling yourself towards Kaz. You can feel his eyes on you as you do so, raking over you.

"Loosen up." He instructs you in a low voice.

"Easy for you to say." You murmur back. "You're not the one pretending to be the crow's whore."

"Someone's said that to you before."

It's not a question. Of course it isn't. Kaz's eyes sharpen, hardening into something mean in front of you.

"Not now." You say dismissively.

He glares at you but gives you a curt nod, and together you walk into the party. You, just for tonight, let yourself revel in the eyes being drawn to you. You give a taunting grin to someone they walk by, playing up your role a little.

Look pretty? Yeah, you can do that.

"Mr. Brekker." A merchant says, his eyes sliding from Kaz to you. "And..."

"Alex." you purr, tilting your head.

Like hell you’re giving your real name out to anyone here. Instead, Alex, a random name, will have to do.

"My date." Kaz cuts in smoothly. "Don't mind them."

"Pretty." The merchant says appraisingly. You should be flattered, but you’re more disgusted.

Kaz tilts his head, studying you. "Yes." He agrees coldly. "Get a drink, we're going to talk business. Loosen up."

You pause, but this certainly isn't the time to mention that youve never drank before. Instead you give him a graceful nod, floating off through the crowds.

The bar is an open bar, you can tell that from the lazy way the bartender is flashing his watch. Nobody here is expected to get drunk, or to steal it. Unfortunately for them, you and Kaz are here, so no watch is safe.

"I'll have a drink." You say lightly, leaning on the counter.

"Of?" The bartender asks, snorting.

Shit.

"Make me what you're best at." You answer, looking at him through your eyelashes. It should be a safe answer.

By the way the bartender smiles and starts to make something, it is. A second later a glass of something is slid your way. Here's to hoping this won't fuck with you too much.

Kaz Brekker

He's starting to get a little worried. Not too much, he knows you can handle yourself perfectly fine, but it has been a while since he sent you off. You weren’t at the bar: he's been checking it every few moments.

It's starting to piss him off. One job, one easy job, and you can't even follow that. There was no point in bringing you if you was just going to vanish.

"Come on, Assassin." He murmurs, still scanning the crowd.

Truthfully, he shouldn't be calling you that here. Alex was the name you gave the merchant earlier, and Alex was the name he should be calling you by. He isn't sure where Alex came from, actually.

It doesn't matter. What does matter is what he came here for, and finding you.

Of course, right as he's about to turn back to the real reason he's here, there's a clatter of decidedly sour guitar strings. Most don't turn towards the noise, but Kaz does. And when he sees, his entire body freezes.

Because where else would you be except talking to the guitar player. And, from the looks of it, flirting with him.

"There you are." Kaz says, striding to you, feeling like yelling. "I've been looking for you."

"Sorry." You chirp, grinning brightly at him.

At that, he falters. When was the last time he saw a smile that bright, that genuine? Actually, scratch that, when had you ever apologized to him?

He leans closer, whispering in your ear, words coming out more as a snarl than anything else. "What are you doing, Assassin?"

"Me?" You ask, looking genuinely surprised. "I'm talking to the guitar player! I used to play guitar, you know, before my father broke it."

He flicks his eyes over you. Not once have you ever divulged information about your personal life, and not once did Kaz ever ask.

"You're drunk?" He asks, incredulously.

"Me? Drunk?" You gasp, stumbling.

With a lurch, he grabs your arms to stop you from hitting the floor. Even through his gloves, it sends a jolt up his spine.

"Three layers." You slur, and he realizes you’re comforting him while drunk. "Don't panic."

"How much did you drink?" He demands lowly, dragging you to a darker corner.

"Three. Maybe four."

"Three what?"

Only three drinks shouldn't have messed you up this much, not unless they were straight vodka or something ridiculous.

"I don't know."

He stares at you. It isn't like you to be so... careless.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He snaps.

"I've never drank before." Kaz's jaw goes slack. You’ve never drank before? This is your first time drinking? Ever? "Hey, anyone ever tell you your eyes are nice?"

"Shut up, I need to think." Kaz growls, drawing a hand down his face.

His eyes dart around, landing on a nearby door. Without a second thought, he shoves you in, closing the door behind you and locking it. It's a bathroom, and for that he's incredibly thankful.

"Splash yourself with water." Kaz orders, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Why?"

"To sober you up."

"Will it really?"

Kaz is starting to like you a lot more when she's sober.

You

An explosion rockets through the building, shaking the walls a little. "Woah." You laugh. It’s funny for some reason. "One of ours? Wylan's?"

"Yes." Kaz says, eyes flicking between you and the door. "Water, now."

"Why are we bombing the party?"

"Near the party." He corrects you impatiently.

There's a sudden pounding on the door, and Kaz swears under his breath violently.

"Anyone in there?! Open up!"

You lift yourself onto the bathroom counter, sitting next to the sink. You watch Kaz, his scheming face on.

"What are you doing?" He asks, still glaring at you.

"Get over here."

"What are you doing?"

"Kaz." You raise your eyebrows. "Get caught or get over here."

Kaz clenches his jaw, striding up to you. "Now what? You're drunk, we're in a bathroom."

You run your hands through your hair, messing it up. You move back further to lean against the mirror, spreading your legs.

"Hands on either side of my head."

Immediately, Kaz stiffens. "Pardon?"

"We either make it look like you're about to fuck me or we get caught."

His eyes go cold, but he leans in, placing a hand to right of your head. His left hand, though, goes to your waist.

"Three layers." He murmurs, almost to himself. "You're drunk, which means I'm yelling at you later for this."

"Please don't-" You cut yourself off with a gasp when the door slams open. You’re close. Not enough to touch Kaz, your mind isn't that foggy, but enough to certainly imply some things.

"Oh." A strange voice says. "Oh. My- my apologies, I didn't-"

"Get out." Kaz growls, turning his head away from you to glare at whoever is at the door.

The door shuts quickly with a loud "thud" noise. Both Kaz and you stay there for a moment, waiting to see if the intruder was actually gone.

"Wasn't that fun?" You say weakly.

"No." Kaz snaps, turning his head back to glare at you.

"Don't be pissed at me. I just saved our asses." You complain, meeting his eyes.

"Who said I'm pissed at you? Frustrated, certainly. I can't fault you too much for being drunk when I asked you to get a drink."

"You have a nice voice." You say honestly.

"Close your mouth before you say something you'll regret."

you stare at him for a moment, mind swirling with thoughts you can't truly sort out.

You’re suspended for another second, neither of you having moved from the quite intimate position. You wasn't a short person, but you were smaller than Kaz, meaning he's practically covering your body with his right now.

"Could you get off me?" You say quietly.

"You're the one who put us in this position." He responds, raising his eyebrows. "If you were uncomfortable with it, you shouldn't have done it."

Either way, he removes his hands, but doesn't step back. Your head swims, having entirely forgotten his hand was on your waist in the first place.

"No, it's because I liked it too much."

Kaz closes his eyes, rubbing his temples with gloved hands. "This is why I don't deal with drunk people."

"What, drunk people are too honest or something?"

"No. Secrets get spilled that nobody wants to hear."

"You don't want to hear my secrets?" You pout, a little upset. You must truly be nothing to him if he didn't even want your secrets to use against you.

"Why are you sad at that?" Kaz asks, and if you didn't know better you’d think he sounds incredulous.

"Because that means I mean nothing to you, which is depressing."

"Where did you get that idea?" His eyebrows furrow.

"You want everyone's secrets." You point out, still leaning against the mirror while sat on the counter. "Why not mine?"

"Trust me, I want them. I just want them out of your own free will."

Hell if you know what that means, but... "Nobody is holding a gun to my head."

"You're drunk. You have no filter."

"Correct. And? When did you care about morals?"

"I don't." He levels his cool gaze at you. "But when it comes to you... I know I wouldn't want my secrets getting out because I'm drunk."

"When it comes to me?" You echo, jumping on the lose thread in his words.

"Get off the counter."

"Explain."

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, what happens? A collision so grand, so huge, that everything else pales in comparison.

But they aren't unstoppable or unmovable. You are drunk, Kaz has his own problems.

So he steps back, and you slide off the counter, fixing your clothes.

"Let's go." Kaz says gruffly.

But even now, even in the dim lighting of a bathroom, even with a foggy mind that is slowly clearing, you know. Hell, you both know.

Something has changed.

#six of crows #soc #kaz brekker #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #soc kaz #six of crows kaz

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