#mind and soul 's parts are coming shortly

[ccruelgods]

[ HMS. WHAT DO YOU THINK THEIR FEAR ALIGNMENT IS. -👁️ ]

i might break this down into 3 separate posts to get my thoughts together; so here's Heart's.

Heart -

Eye. Unironically. And that's not a joke about his blindness, though the blindness is apart of it.

Heart would be scared of being watched, since he wouldn't be able to see who or where, but he'd also be afraid of being judged. He's emotional, and he doesn't always have everything under control, he's afraid Soul or Mind would judge him for that.

Even moreso because he knows Mind is judging him constantly.

On the topic of knowing, he'd definitely be afraid of not knowing that he's being judged or otherwise criticized. He can feel when someone's looking at him, sure, but he can't feel if they're talking about him where he can't hear. It's a constant worry of his, one that also fuels his frustration and stress and therefore emotional instability to a degree.

He tries to keep himself together, and yet even when he's doing his best, he's terrified that the others are still judging him, watching and waiting for a slip up so they can criticize him for it. Because the fact of the matter is that, no matter what it is, be it an angry outburst or a breakdown or even if he's just happy, he knows that one of the others will be just waiting for him to slip up. Even if he could see, that fear would still be there, if not amplified because he'd be able to see their expressions and tell just what they're thinking about him.

take the ending of Good Day for reference.

Fine I'll play the happy version Free from sadness and perversion Eyes be blocked from devastation All to see is self-elation Birds and bees and television Cardboard boxes, x-ray vision You don't want to see the truth What's convenient will do Telephones and silly games Periods and lots and lots of question marks

Oh no

if you think about it, it could be taken as Heart putting up a facade of happiness and being fine, a "sunshine and rainbows" illusion to keep the others for judging him for not being the most stable,

("Fine I'll play the happy version Free from sadness and perversion Eyes be blocked from devastation All to see is self-elation")

but he quickly realizes that it's pointless, not only because it hurts him, but because they're still going to be judging him. no matter what he does to try and avoid it. sure, him pretending to be happy is convenient for them, because they'll probably view it as less stress on "Whole". but it still changes nothing, and it's a painful reality that he doesn't know how to accept without just becoming overwhelmingly frustrated about it all, and so the cycle repeats.

i actually dont have ideas for the other two.

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

Story Chapter list

23. 𝓑𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓦𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓻

The night had been long and exhausting, but this mattered little to him. Now that he had brought his child back and turned her, everything was well. Shortly after her first feeding, (Y/n) had fallen unconscious, the exhaustion brought by her transformation finally taking over her.

As a coffin had yet to be made for her, the child had nowhere to rest.  She wasn't human anymore, a bed certainly wouldn't do. These things were too uncomfortable for greater beings like them. Dorian brought her to his own coffin and let her rest next to him for the time being.

Killian remained silent since (Y/n)'s transformation. He hadn’t uttered a single word since. His eyes lingered frequently on the youngling, but he presented a vacant expression, his mind adrift. Dorian didn't mind; he understood that, despite Killian's stoic exterior, the blonde vampire felt a sense of responsibility for the newly turned child. Now, he would have to think of (Y/n) before trying to leave. (Y/n) would now factor into both their lives, a reminder that Dorian intended to keep at the forefront of Killian's thoughts.

A heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with tension as Killian's accusatory words sliced through the room like a dagger. His dark gaze bore into Dorian, carrying with it a weight of both anger and disappointment. 

"You should have left her. You never should have turned her," Killian stated firmly, his voice dripping with a foreboding darkness that resonated through the chamber.

Dorian couldn't suppress a growl of frustration that rumbled deep within his chest. He loved his companion, a bond that had been forged over countless years of shared experiences and challenges. Yet, their differing philosophies had always sparked discord. With a sarcastic hiss, he retorted, "Of course, Killian, you are absolutely right. I should have left her to wither away and crumble into the abyss of old age." The irony in his words was palpable, a thinly veiled mockery of Killian's unyielding principles.

The girl in question, still adjusting to her new existence, remained cradled in Dorian's arms, her eyes closed. Dorian hugged her tightly, his hands tenderly covering her ears in a protective gesture. He wished fervently that the newborn vampire didn't hear the words that had escaped Killian's lips, for in her eyes, he was the embodiment of virtue and goodness.

"I do not care how much you dislike this situation," Dorian sneered, the bitterness evident. "Rant and rave about it as much as you want, but don't you ever — and I mean it — say it in her presence again." The warning hung heavy in the air. “I was able to get my hands on a stake once and I will not hesitate to do it again, but this time– and I swear to all that is holy and unholy– I will make sure to complete the job.”

She didn't need to know the depth of the internal conflicts that had arisen within the very beings she would have to look up to for guidance. They were her guides, and Dorian intended to shield her from the shadows that lurked within their immortal souls.

⊱ ────── {⋆𖤐⋆} ────── ⊰

The night unfurled around (Y/n) as she awoke, grappling with the disorienting transition from a human world to the reality of her new existence. She emerged from the coffin, the memories of the nunnery, the massacres, and her transformation flooding back. She distantly realized she couldn’t feel any more pain in her leg.

The once mundane aspects of her surroundings now pulsed with life—the scents, sounds, tastes, and sensations overwhelmed her heightened senses. The onslaught of sensations became too much to bear. Blood pounded in her ears, her hands trembled, and her feet tingled. It was a whirlwind of clarity and chaos, leaving her desperate for reprieve.

She needed it to—

She gulped as her stomach churned. She felt as though a hand of ice had reached inside her chest, gripping her heart with a vice-like hold. She covered her ears, shutting out the cacophony threatening to engulf her. She just wanted it to stop.

Stop, stop, stopstop—

"(Y/n)," a voice, loud and grounding, called out to her. She winced in pain.

"Child, can you listen to me?" The voice, a lifeline amidst the turmoil, asked gently. Hesitant, she nodded, still overwhelmed and scared. "I want you to take three breaths with me. Can you do that?"

Hesitant but compliant, she followed his lead. Breathe in, breathe out—a rhythmic attempt to regain control. The creaking door and the aroma of food wafting from downstairs threatened to disrupt her focus.

"Breathe in... breathe out," he instructed, accentuating the motions. Slowly, through repetition, (Y/n) began to regain a semblance of calm. Trembling persisting, she clung to Killian, a strange calm intertwining with an unfamiliar sense of resentment.

As she followed his instructions, focusing on the simple act of breathing, the chaos within her began to subside, if only momentarily. The scent of food from downstairs, once a distraction, now mingled with the comforting presence. With each inhale and exhale, she felt herself slowly coming back to herself, the trembling lessening as a sense of control returned. Yet, beneath the calm facade, a knot of resentment twisted within her.

"I'm a monster," she confessed in a whisper, scorn lacing her words as tears traced down her face. "He made me into this."

Killian rolled circles in her back, a silent pillar of support. Dorian wasn't in the room, there was only her and the other vampire.

"I never wanted this," her voice cracked.

He enveloped her in a comforting embrace. "I know, child," he assured, his tone echoing the different emotions that enveloped them both.

The sound of approaching footsteps reached (Y/n)'s enhanced hearing moments before the door swung open. Her gaze, a defiant glare, met the vampire who entered. Despite Killian's protective arm around her shoulders, Dorian paid it no mind, smiling while cupping her face in his hand.

"How is my little fledgling tonight?" he asked in a singsong voice. "Show me your fangs, dear."

(Y/n) clenched her jaw and turned her head away in defiance. Dorian, undeterred, tightened his grip, forcing her to meet his gaze again. "Now, don't be—"

Instinctively, she bared her teeth and attempted to bite him, a surprising action even to herself. Dorian retracted his hand just in time to avoid it. Rather than anger, (Y/n) sensed amusement radiating from her sire, who rewarded her with a sharp grin, practically cackling in delight.

"Quite a feisty one, aren't you?" he commented gleefully. "Father is so proud." She glowered. "Freshen up; it is time to eat."

She left their room to go to her own quarters without a word. Anything to not be in direct contact with him. A maid had already prepared a bath for her and left, a fortunate occurrence. She was bloodied, her clothes stained by blood that had dried. The origin was unknown to her. Was it from Dorian, herself or even the nuns? She clenched her jaw, preferring not to think of that. 

She just wanted it all gone. With meticulous care, she lathered her hands with soap. She thought of Sister Gloria and of the pain she must have felt as her sire sank his fangs in her neck, draining her life force. Or maybe, as he sliced her open– or as he ripped her apart ruthlessly. Her mind buzzed, each possibility running through her head. She could still hear the screams, could still see the red. The same red covering her. As the soap bubbled between her fingers, she scrubbed furiously. It had to leave. Did he play with them before slaughtering them? Did he make them partake in his twisted version of hide and seek? Hiding until he found them and spilled all their life fluids across their haven? Was it the same fluid she had on herself now? She scrubbed, her nails digging into her skin with a desperate intensity. She needed it gone. Was that what she was forced to become now? Would her existence revolve around spilling all that blood? Would it be consumed by the red? She scrubbed, she could have missed–

Someone knocked. “Miss,” a soft, almost inaudible voice called, “the duke is requesting you.”

She looked down at the blood tainted water and stood up. She paused for an instant. With a sigh, she reached for the hand towel, her movements slow and hesitant. Once she finally dried and dressed herself, she was ready to go.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Timeless - Part 4: "In The 1500's, Off In A Foreign Land"

"If I first saw your face in the 1500's off in a foreign land, and I was forced to marry another man, you still would've been mine..."

Summary: It's the kind of love you find once in a lifetime, the kind of love you don't put down, and somehow, you know you would've found each other in every life.

'Timeless' Chapter List | The Grumpy Sunshine Series

Your eyes flutter shut as the summer breeze fills your lungs. You grip the stone balcony with all the strength you can muster.

"Your highness," Bucky announces himself.

"James, please, spare the formalities," you halfheartedly beg of him. You both knew what was coming. You couldn't bear the cold formality in his voice reminding you. "We're alone out here."

Spare the formalities, he does not.

He softly inhales, holding his head high and his jaw tight, "Your highness, the guests will be arriving shortly."

You pay him no mind, instead, you stare out into the garden. The one that held all those stolen moments, lingering touches, and longing glances. "The garden looks particularly beautiful this time of night, doesn't it?"

"Your betrothed," he pointedly remarks as though to remind you that you were never his to begin with, "...will be here shortly."

"James... please."

He can't stop himself from taking his place by your side when he hears the plea in your voice. He knows he'd be killed if someone caught him here in this moment with you. Still, he takes your hand, grazing over your fingers in tender strokes.

It's the last time he'll ever have you like this. He may as well make the most of it.

He glances over to you, his gaze soft and swimming with despair, "We've always known this would happen."

You shake your head so softly, Bucky can't be sure that it isn't just the warm summer breeze playing tricks on his mind. You hold your head high, but your voice wavers, betraying the regal facade, "Please, don't."

It breaks him. It tears him apart that he's hurt you because he wasn't strong enough to resist falling in love.

He took the most sacred of oaths. He was supposed to protect you.

Mind, body, soul.

Mind, body, soul, and heart.

He broke that. It was his turn to be strong, to walk away so you didn't have to. He tears his own hand away, "I'll let your ladies know you're ready for your evening gown."

"James," you call after him. "James!"

Your only response is the door snapping shut followed by a loud resounding silence. And then, there's just nothing. A nothingness that sweeps over everything, your world becoming a shade of bleak you've never known. 

You stand so still on the balcony, silent tears streaming down your cheek. You hardly notice your ladies entering your room. You don't move from your spot on the balcony, the spot where he left you for the very last time.

One of your ladies taps on your shoulder, she curtsies before you, "Your highness, are you quite alright?"

"I suppose I'm anxious," you halfheartedly chuckle, wiping away the tears. "I don't - I don't truly know what will become of me tonight."

"He's a good man from what I've heard. The servants say that he treats them well, he has a good heart. He will be a good ruler and a good husband."

You look over your shoulder, offering a soft smile, "Thank you."

"We should get you dressed. They'll be expecting you shortly."

You nod, allowing them to slip the off white gown on you. It's a beautiful gown, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't select it specifically for Bucky's eyes.

There was a time not long ago, a time when you were young and naive, full of hopeless love and a head full of fantasies of a triumphant, timeless love, that you would dream together.

Hand in hand, you would lie in your private meadow and dream. Dreams of one day walking down the aisle to Bucky. Dreams of wearing a gown that would take his breath away. Dreams whispered for only him to hear. Dreams carried away in the night.

Going through the motions off getting prepared make your chest feel more hollow than you thought ever possible. If you listen closely, you swear you can hear the summer breeze whistling through the hole torn through your heart.

By the end of the hour, you stare at yourself in the mirror. You look beautiful. And yet, you feel more empty than ever before. 

It feels like a death march, walking from your bedroom chamber to the ballroom. You've never met the man you were promised to before. You don't know anything about him except what your ladies in waiting knew.

You know it wouldn't matter anyway. You could know everything about him. You could know him from head to toe. You could know his heart, his mind, his soul, and he would never compare. He couldn't compete with the man that held your heart.

Your guards trail you behind with one notable absence. Bucky. The head of your security. Your most trusted protector. One of the most senior members of the Royal Guard.

Long before either of you knew civility, you knew him as that bright eyed little boy. Once a little boy wandering the grand halls of the palace, he followed in his father's steps, becoming an invaluable knight. It was somewhere in that time he became your own knight in shining armor.

He held your heart long before he commanded soldiers, long before your father appointed him to your security detail. He was the person you trusted most. Your confidante. The one person who spoke freely to you. 

You walk past the garden. It was always your favorite place in the palace. The place where you first saw those blue eyes. Even at such a young age, your heart knew. He would always be yours.  Even if fate would not allow it, even if destiny tore you apart, your soul would always belong to him. All those nights, sneaking out to the garden. You would be dead if anyone knew. He would be dead if anyone knew. 

You don't even realize you're being presented to your betrothed until your name is bellowed through the ballroom. Gilded from top to bottom, you can the ballroom from the very top of the grand staircase, Bucky is nowhere to be found. 

You walk down the staircase alone. Your heels click against the smooth marble. You hold your head high, face unflinching and stoic. The face of a future queen. The face of a woman that just lost the great love of her life. 

There is nothing remarkable about the man you're to marry. Nothing but the crown resting atop his head - a crown you weren't the least bit interested in. His words sound like a dull buzz in your ear. His eyes flat and dull. Even his kind smile is but a spark to the flame you shared with Bucky. Perhaps, in another life you could learn to love him. It's a lie, you realize. In those other lives, your heart belongs to Bucky too.

You can't do this, you decide in the moment the dinner is finished. You can't promise yourself to another man knowing that you'd lose the love of your life. You could do without the crowns, without the jewels, without any of it, you would give it all away if it meant you could have him. You can't go about your life without Bucky. 

You wait until the cloak of night. And then you go after what you can't live without. 

You stand in his room all alone. He's not here. Nowhere to be found. You curl your hands into fists, determined to wait for him all night. Consequences be damned. You're not but a few moments into your rumination when you hear footsteps in the corridor.

The moment his lantern illuminates the room, he gasps, his hand flinching towards his sword. He sighs, sheathing his sword when he sees it's you. His face is cold and distant as he speaks to you, "You shouldn't be here, your highness."

"I do not love him."

"You will learn to love him," Bucky dryly insists. "We must get you back before-"

"No," you forcefully interject. "I will not. My heart belongs to another. My heart belongs to you."

"We can never be," he speaks through gritted teeth, his trembling hands tightly clenched. "You are the princess. You will one day be queen. I am sworn to protect the crown that will rest on your head. That is our duty."

"Tell me," you softly exhale. "Tell me you do not feel the same."

"I -" He can't bring himself to say the words. 

"Please, so that we may fulfill our duties," you beg. "Tell me."

"You know I cannot."

"Then tell me why you run."

"You know why."

You furiously shake your head, "I do not."

"I cannot give you the life you deserve. Even if I could, your future does not lie with me, a mere commoner. I am but a man sworn to protect you. My place is not and will never be by your side."

You bitterly chuckle, "You truly think so lowly of yourself?"

"No." He shakes his head. His eyes flash over to you, finally his gaze softens, "Perhaps I think of you only in the highest regard, in the highest esteem, far higher than I could ever reach."

"You do not see yourself clearly. You are what I cannot live without. You are what I cannot bear to lose."

Bucky takes your hand, squeezing it tightly, "You love your people. You love this land."

"I love you."

"As I love you..." He cups your face, tenderly stroking your cheek, "There is no other heir. With your mother passed on, what will become of our people if we leave them defenseless and without a ruler?"

"I've read our constitution, there is nothing proclaiming I must marry of royal bloodline."

"Your father would never allow it. I would lose my head for even thinking of such impropriety."

"I am the sole heir. I will be queen."

"Yes."

"I will not allow myself to be torn between my love for my people and my love for you."

"We all have our cross to bear."

"Then let me bear mine. I will speak to my father. I will make him see. I will rule with you at my side or I will rule alone and our bloodline will die with me."

"You cannot -"

"I can."

"Am I truly worth risking the wrath of your father, the wrath of our king?"

"You are worth everything to me." 

You find your father first thing the next morning. He sits surrounded by his advisors, the same advisors that convinced your father to promise you to the neighboring country.

You knew you were not unique in this situation. You were not alone when your heart and duties were pulling you apart at the seams. You knew few loves ever triumphed. Few could overcome such pressure. And even fewer survived with two intact.

You shudder at the thought of Bucky paying the price for falling in love with you. You were both so young when you first saw him. So young and so naive.

Regardless, you stand tall. This was a love worth the fight. A love that would endure. A love that would be timeless.

"Father," you curtsy before him. "I must speak with you at once."

"Leave us." He raises a hand in dismissal. As gentle and benevolent as your father could be, he could also be stern and unflinching in his mind. People don't question your father. People don't question the king. The advisors scurry out of the throne room without another word."Is something troubling you, my dear?"

You nod, swallowing your fear for Bucky's sake. "There is something I must discuss with you."

Wonder burns in your father's eyes. "Go on."

"I am afraid I cannot proceed with the betrothal," you firmly state, your voice as cool and unwavering as steel.

He quirks an eyebrow, his eyes blown wide, "I beg your pardon?"

"I cannot marry him. I do not love him."

"You will learn to love him."

You can't count how many people have told you something similar. Hundreds since your betrothal over a decade ago. Even then, you were hopelessly in love with Bucky. "My heart belongs to another."

"An infatuation is not - "

"It is no infatuation," you explode. "I spent life loving this man. I love him with all my heart. I will not lose him. Allow him to rule beside me when the day arrives."

Your father leans forward, his gaze bearing down on you, "And what of our alliance? Your betrothal? Imagine the scandal!"

"We can ally ourselves without my hand in marriage," you reply, speaking each syllable as calmly and carefully as your most revered diplomats. "Our land is bountiful. Our people are strong."

"You love this gentleman?"

"I do."

"And who, pray tell, is this man?"

You lower your head. This was the part you feared most. Risking the life of the one you love with every fiber of your being. You reminded yourself that there was a plan. One you spent all night constructing. He was waiting on the outskirts of your meadow, if it didn't go well, you'd run away and leave it all behind. For him. "James. James Barnes."

"The head of your personal guard?"

You don't allow your voice to waver. "Yes."

"And what if I had him executed for this treason?"

"This was no treason, Father!" you speak with an intensity that you've never dared to before. Your chest heaves with panic. This was it. The moment where you lost or gained everything. "I have loved him from the moment I saw him when we were children. I would never forgive you. You would lose your sole heir."

"You would forsake your land, your people, for him?"

Without a breath of hesitation, you nod, "Yes."

Your father sucks in a breath. It was unlike you. You were the perfect portrait of an heir. With the death of your mother, people looked to you to see a steady hand and a reasonable mind. He almost forgot that somewhere buried in your sense of responsibility, was a heart that was entirely your own. "I see."

You reach for your father's hand, holding it tightly, "He is a good man. A good man who has devoted his life to the Crown."

"You cannot marry an untitled man."

"Father, please -"

"Let me finish," he stops you. "You cannot marry an untitled man, but I cannot lose my only daughter."

"Thank you, Father." You don't bow to him this time. This time, you rush towards him, throwing your arms around him. "Thank you."

"I loved your mother the way you love him," he whispers for you to hear. "I would have given it all away for her. Everything except you."

Tears well in your eyes. You squeeze his hand one last time. "Thank you."

You don't waste another moment before you run to Bucky. You find him anxiously pacing the meadow, the sunlight making his blue eyes look more brilliant than any flower you've ever seen.

His breath catches the moment he sees you running towards him. Down the cobblestone path he's spent years watching you from. He run towards you, meeting you in the center of the meadow you turned into his haven.

The moment you're close enough to touch, his hands grip your waist. His wild eyes rake over you, "Your highness..."

You throw your arms around him, "I love you."

"Your father?"

You nod into the crook of his neck. "He understands."

He breaths a sigh of relief. And for the first time since your betrothal was announced, he feels hope bloom in his heart. He pulls back, his hand pushing away the stray hair from your face. His chest heaves, his heart overwhelmed with the one dream he never dared to believe would come true. His eyes bore into yours gleaming and twinkling, so inviting you have no choice but to jump in. "Our love will be timeless, I swear it."

And it was.

On the dreaded day your father's long reign ended, and you became the queen you were born to be. He was there, holding your hand, holding you steady, by your side where he belonged.

Yours was a story of triumph, a story of hope, a love story turned into folklore, destined to be passed down from generation to generation.

Your love would last forever. A tale as timeless one could be.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

As always, let me know what you think! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated! 💛

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[willows-escape]

Hell Hole. - Tate Langdon

Pairing: AHS Tate Langdon x GN!Reader

Summary: Secrets can’t possibly stay hidden in a home that was built on the betrayal of deceit and ruin. Tate had figured that out by now.

ALTERNATIVELY:

Violet tells you about what Tate did, and you can’t look at him the same again after.

Warnings: if you could handle watching AHS, you can handle this i thinks. Angst, no comfort, kind of a cliffhanger ending. A part 2 may be in order if requested lol. This is very not proof read pls forgive it i just wanted to write s o me th in g.

He should’ve known. Really, very truly should’ve known that he wouldn’t have been able to move on so easily. That he wouldn’t have been able to escape the wrongdoings of his past, the horrors of the sins he committed against the innocent. It was only right he was standing where he was right now, mind racing miles upon miles a second as he tried to grasp the reality painfully painted in front of him.

You, who was standing in front of him, tear stained cheeks that were burning red like rubies. Eyes puffy and undeniably sore, strained and stinging as you wiped away the salty manifestations of your grief. It broke him to see his angel so distressed, his saviour in such a state of loss and hurt. He thought he’d been damned the day Violet told him to leave for good, damned to pay for his evil ways; cooped up in the basement with the other poor souls crying for what they had lost.

But then you arrived.

Many families had come and gone before then- ones that were broken, strained and whole. Mothers, fathers, daughters and sons, infants and pets had walked the halls of the house, only to be shortly chased away not long after. Nothing ever was permanent, and nothing ever seemed permanent for Tate, not until you came along. Ben and Vivienne were done chasing homeowners out, they no longer wanted to dedicate their deaths to preventing others from a similar fate. They’d grown tired, like everybody else had. This had only wrongfully convinced Tate further that your arrival was meant to be.

Tate almost wanted to laugh at how stupid he’d been. This light, this saviour, this god, this cruel demonstration of fate, you, were just the world’s way of tragically repeating history all over again. Less in terms of casualties, but in terms of heartbreak? Tate was almost sure he was about to drop dead all over again, if it wasn’t for the sliver of desire he held deep in his heart. What if you did forgive him? Could you be able to look past what he’d done, accept it and love him for all of what he was? Unlikely.

“Violet told me,” you choked, hair a mess and clothes crumpled from the strength of your fists clutching onto them for dear life, “she told me everything, Tate, everything.”

He swallowed the fear building in his throat, eyes nervously darting around the room. He was desperate to approach you, to get closer and cocoon you in his arms and act like this wasn’t happening right now. He shouldn’t have ever come out of the basement, he thought bitterly.

“Come on,” he begged, panting even though he didn’t have functioning lungs to fill. His chest pounding even though he didn’t have a heart capable of beating. “Please, what I did wasn’t me. Believe me, you gotta.”

“Believe you? I saw your fucking picture on the articles, Tate. You fucking killed those students in cold blood,” you hissed, running a shaking hand through your hair. Your temper was rising, didn’t he have shame? Was he even sorry?

“But it wasn’t me!”

“How was it not you? You were the one with the gun! You were the one that pulled the trigger! You were the one who assaulted and killed Violet’s mother! The one responsible for two other people who are doomed here!”

“No, no not like that. I mean-“ he sobbed, “please, i know i did it. All of it. But it wasn’t me. I’m so sorry.”

You scoffed. Tate visibly winced, eyes building up with tears as he shook violently. You couldn’t help but feel disgusted, stomach turning and nose scrunching as you took in his state. How could he have the audacity to be in such despair when he’d ended and ruined lives?

Somehow, you could still see the Tate you knew in him. The Tate who wouldn’t hurt a fly, who would do anything to see you giddy and smiling, who was yours. But knowing the reality, also meant you knew you had to toss that bullshit behind you. You couldn’t feel this way towards him anymore. Your stomach turned just thinking of the monster he was under all the lies he meticulously fed you. He wasn’t innocent and he knew that this whole time.

“I’m going,” you said hastily, hands flying up in defeat as you stormed out of your bedroom. The bedroom you now realised previously belonged to the now dead school shooter and also your recent ex, Tate Langdon. “Don’t fucking show yourself when I come back.”

You didn’t entirely understand everything, I mean, how could you? You’d gone from believing you had a perfect goofy, adorably-odd boyfriend, to finding out he was dead with a criminal record and multiple bodies under his belt. At first you didn’t fully accept Violet’s babbling as she rambled off about all the suffering he’d caused, until she snatched your phone and pulled up what had confirmed your fears. The truth was right in front of your eyes, and there was no option for you to avoid it for it was blinding- and, what was more devastating, a measly google search away this whole time.

You were a fool.

“No! Please, you can’t!” he cried, hands coming up to yank at his blonde strands, his demeanour visibly closing in on himself. His body language screamed frightened, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care.

You ignored his protests, although your tears continued to stream as you listened halfheartedly to his pleas. It wasn’t your place to forgive, and you’d certainly never be able to forget.

And with those last thoughts, you stepped out of your bedroom door and flew down the stairs. Your parents were both at work, so nobody was home to question why you were so frantic to leave the house. You’d have no choice but to be home later, but everything in the moment seemed to be screaming at you to leave.

“You’re all I have! Stay! Please!” he bounded down the stairs after you, pitiful screams narrowly escaping his aching throat. “You promised me! You fucking promised me! You can’t leave!”

Your breath hitched in your throat, door swinging shut as you practically ran out of the suffocating walls of your house. Could it even be considered your home now? Did technicalities even matter when nothing that you’d just experienced was even remotely logical?

You chuckled miserably, kicking the stone littered pavement as you tracked further from the hell hole you’d just stepped out of and closer to some peace and quiet. You’d worry about the rest when you got back.

[deadrayg2mf]

Dead Ray's Nightmare Gauntlet: Melanie Nyx

I don't even know where to fucking start with this review. I knew going into this that I was in for a bad time. I was just unaware how bad of a time... "Never judge a book by its cover!" Well, I should have, and harshly at that. This won't be a long text post of my written-out thoughts and summary like the other reviews as this is a six for one since all the books are generally less than 30 pages (the longer ones are the ones with three books crammed into one) so I will just list them from worst to best with bulleted points, but to start; a small list of things that spanned all the books.

All dicks that are not tentacles are as long as the female leads forearm and as thick as her wrist.

The use of "virgin asshole."

Saying the dick or tongue reached places previously untouched.

Juices running down thighs and into ass cracks.

Different, but ultimately, the best tasting cum to exist. (TBH it all sounded like it would send me running to the bathroom as fast as a glass of milk)

Mind control??? Like there has to be??? I simply cannot be convinced that upon laying their eyes on, what appears to be the average size, a giant dick all of a sudden, each female lead is down to clown.

Badly and shortly written smut, all bad porno scripts, like really bad, I'm talking even bad porn producers would throw these in the reject pile.

Reigned In by the Reindeer Man 0/10

Trigger warning for attempted sexual assault and overall, general nasty man.

Starts out with her in what I wish wasn't a common situation for woman but, unfortunately, most definitely is with a disgusting man being disgusting towards her

Pervy Santa she works with gets aggressive, chases her through the mall attempting to assault her, she runs out into traffic and almost gets hit by a truck (truck-kun almost coming in for that isekai save)

Oh Whoa, she gets whisked away by something furry and antlered

It's Blitzen

but like

a ten-foot-tall, super muscular and humanoid Blitzen

You'll never guess how huge his dick is, because it is out and demanding

Would have definitely dubbed this a noncon situation if, at the very last second, she hadn't decided that giant deer dick was worth getting a taste of

Blitzen's cum tastes like all the best parts of Christmas if you were wondering

He also goes down like a champ, and plows like a champ, just an absolute beast in the sheets (◔_◔)

Laughed at the line "you invoked the Santa"

Blitzen does take offence to being called Vixen - he's kind of a douche tbh

Bad

Given to the Groundhog God 0/10

Trigger warning for potential pedophilia and rape being an aspect

A smutty, fantasy Hunger Games rip?

That line about odds being in favors is pretty fucking close

And the whole drawing names until your 18 and free from the selection

Um

Pedophilia?

Maybe?

Definitely nothing is said to not make this potential claim invalid

It says that woman are in danger for their first 18 years from getting their names drawn

And later the Groundhog God makes it clear he's gotta bone 'em to get their life force

I think

Crime was committed

If not pedophilia, definitely rape

So... disgusting, all the crime ones get 0's

She volunteers for her sister whose name gets drawn and goes for her (female lead is 21) to the Groundhog God

Oh, btw, it's fucking groundhogs day :|

She is entranced by his groundhog god dick

Turns out she's his mate (thank god he doesn't have to take any kids to fuck ever again)

She turns into a furry groundhog lady

Gag me with a spoon

Lusty Lost Souls 1/10

Girl who had three boyfriends who all tragically died on their way to a high school dance is facing her fears and returning to hometown ten years later

Oop, former classmate wants to kill her cause she still blames her for their deaths

BOOM, dead, how? They're ghosts or fog monsters or something along those lines

Now that main girl is back in town their all riled up and ready to get back in the sheets with her/protect her from the people trying to kill her

If I had a nickel for every time someone tried to kill the main girl, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice

Anyways, after the second attempt made by former classmate who was in love with her, the boys make their appearance (this is the end of the book btw)

They then have a steamy (foggy?) fuck session and her old high school best friend watches from the sidelines but really just see's fog envelope the main girl and then all of a sudden she disappears forever

Not sure if she like died and also turned into fog or what happened there

It was boring

Tentacle Games 1.5/10

Just a horny squid games rip

Three books in one

They all sucked

This televised event where people compete for money but if they fuck up they get dragged off by tentacles

If you pay a subscription you get to see what happens backstage ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭

It's sex... they get fucked by the tentacles

That's it...

The third book is the scientist who created the horny tentacle monster getting fucked by one

The other two are just contestants on the show (losers)

Shout out to the size queen in the second one... though size isn't exactly hard to come by in any of these books :|

Groped by the Grinch 1.5/10

Her name is Holly Jolly

The Grinch is an invisible being that just gropes people probably

She can see him because she harbors true holiday cheer

Canon mind control in this one, but the Grinch chooses to seduce her the old fashioned way

By taking her clothes off and rubbing his giant grinch dick on her

At least this one has embellishments

There's Christmas lights under the skin and they spin when he gets real jazzed

The Grinch is ripped, absolutely shredded, complete babe magnet (if they could see him)

Ass of a god

Missed the chance for the perfect rip from the movie with the lines "You're the... the... the" "the, the, the, the Grinch!"

Absolutely wasted opportunity (but if you can get sued for that then I get it)

Also has Christmas cum but not the same as Blitzens'

The first, and possibly only, one we get a kiss in I think?

How romantic of Mr. Grinch

It was bad, still really really bad, but better than some

Seduced by Santa's Elves 2/10

Literally had to google the title to make sure I got it right and the 5th search result was pornhub (・_・ヾ

Jumped the gun and messaged multiple friends that this book was Santa getting cucked by Mrs. Clause and his elves

Was incorrect, kinda

Santa did get cucked by Mrs. Clause BUT it was with the easter bunny and the female lead of this is actually his sister

So, Santa leaves to go deliver Christmas presents, Mary, the lead, goes to her room to get frisky with her toys and Christmas themed porn that does not involve images of her brother (apparently hard to come by - someone direct her to previously listed Christmas books)

Dildo, hilt deep, oh what's that? Mary feels her breast get fondled?

Elf

Three elves, eventually; Bowie, Snowie, and Tinsel

Don't worry, their names are unimportant because not even the author could keep track of them

In one paragraph, Bowie's getting head, Snowie's going for that virgin ass, and Tinsel has touched places previously untouched with, you guessed it, a ginormous dick

In the next? Bowie is balls deep, Tinsel is at the back door, and Snowie is suddenly restricting her air space...

Literally consecutive paragraphs

Honestly, the dick size is unprecedented and frankly uncanny for these being three-foot-tall furry gremlin like things that are not at all reminiscent of the cover image

They also have Christmas cum... but not like Blitzens or the Grinch

BTW they have her bound and hanging above her bed with curtains

The only male characters who aren't shredded beefcakes?

Maybe the author just missed her chance at getting Mary to lick Snowie's washboard abs

Call me a scrouge but this fucking sucked

Amityville Tentacles: The Series 2.5/10

Another three books in one, but all revolving around a central point

A house that has a tentacle demon in it and it must fuck

Honestly, did not mind the first one

Not the most offensive thing I'd ever read

The second one was also fine?

They each had like some sort of backstory that I could live with

The third one was the worst

They are obviously mindless stories revolving around the smut aspect

Inherently, that makes them pretty bad

But the smut in these ones was much better than the previous books listed

My head did not hurt reading this

I can live with the fact that this exists

Seduced by the Pumpkin King 3.5/10

Sue me

I actually liked this one

Enough that I was like...

Flesh it out? Write it better? Give us more plot and backstory?

I'd read it again if these conditions were met

Main girl finds boyfriend cheating on her, somehow gets lost on her way home, ends up in this town and asks for help, the towns people chase her into the woods as a sacrifice for the dark one

I think that's what they called him

He's the king of nightmares and is just a super tall, super ripped, pumpkin-headed bloke

TBH, was into him

He was nice and I think he had a good design for a monster

His forearm length, wrist thick dick also had embellishments

He had little vines that wrapped around it

I'd fuck him (shakes my head with my silly little ace/aro lies teehee)

They ended up married

Short, simple, kind of cute little story

Still not great, but the best out of a bad bunch

I won't even get into the other story of Melanie Nyx's that I read, it's the giant skeleton one that can be found on the list of "books that belong in jail" list from tik tok. I did read it, and my poor, sweet, innocent friend, who watches as I drown in a suffering of my own creation, had to open the multiple snapchat videos (sent at 1 am) of me lamenting and begging for me to never commit to a bit like this again due to the horrors and atrocities I made my stupid little brain compute. I will warn, if you choose to dip your toe in this forbidden pool of trash, it is noncon and just plain bad.

Overall, don't fuckin read these. It's absolute trash and I hate myself for making me do this.

Will I ever do another nightmare gauntlet again? I don't know... I was dubbed a masochist for going through with this and while I am a glutton for punishment, I did also feel my soul leaving my body on many occasions. When I look in the mirror now, I see a broken person... which isn't much different than before but like, the light in my eyes has died just that much more.

Would I read again? Not in this life or the next or the one after that or any again.

Would I recommend? Read this post and ask me that again, look me in my cold, dead eyes and think it through. Please for the love of it all spare yourself from this

[4-more-winks]

Updates Abound!!!!

Every Saturday, my Deca podcast releases on spotify (Wednesdays on the website :P). Today is that day.

Part 3 of 'Chronicles of Deca', as well as Part 4 of 'The Pendulum of Abaddon and Other Twisted Fairy Tales' (18+) have both been released! Feel free to come and meet Case and Hope, Abaddon's newest additions! See the Cast of Characters in the Author section of the website come to life as new names are placed with the character biographies we already find there, not having yet met in story, and some not to be met for months yet. Chance a guess at what kind of character traits would match the bios thus far presented. Wonder at how they fit together. Ask how refusing a gift from a child can destroy a human soul (hint hint, the child isn't human, and the gift isn't something a human can truly use). Find a thread. Remember that cast of characters is LIVING, and will update as the stories come to pass, creating an analysis of and narrative surrounding each subject!

The train is moving, characters are becoming realized. Small threads begin to become apparent. The secrets lying in wait are there, and will be revealed regardless of tact. Follow the threads, for when they change, you will have been of a mind to follow the change they make. That’s the secret.

Chuckle at the fumbling of Deca’s 3rd part, but know that you may find yourself pleasantly surprised in the not too far future. Know that part 4 will return part 5 to the pace that it should follow: alone, cold, in the flickering torchlight, which obscures your vision as you pray the spots you see in the distance are light-borne artifacts in your eyes, and not the glint of torchlight in the eyes of a monster ahead of you. Imagine “Alien” ’s ventilation scene, but fantasy.

Await in trepid (yes, tumblr, like most of my words, trepid is a word) anticipation at the horrors soon to abound in Abaddon (18+ still) as we draw slowly closer to being taken into the gates of Hell by a three-headed demon who seeks to sell souls on market, this aspect of Hell, which is where half of the rest of the novel will reside, for certain characters, is on the horizon. For the Pendulum will shortly begin to swing left, and that is our first location visited. But that is fair, as the last Pendulum swing will be to the right, and toward salvation. I wonder where that swing might lead...

I also hear another story being told elsewhere, and something mischievous is brewing beneath the fold. So come in! Welcome! This is when the magic really begins.

Edit:

Also please start at the intro. Im trying to get you into a certain mindset for the tale.

[praeteritus-memories-muses]

Name: Ryou Bakura

Series: Yu-Gi-Oh!!!

Continuity: Anime

Age: 16-19 (RP dependent)

Height: 5'8"

Birthday: September 2nd

Birthplace: Kyoto, Japan

Orientation: Bisexual

Species: Human

Occupation: Student / Freelance figurine painter

Father: Unnamed

Mother: Unnamed (deceased)

Sibling(s): Amane Bakura (deceased)

Bio:

Born in Japan but raised in England, Ryou lived with his sister and parents. His father an antiques dealer and his mother a simple housewife, Ryou's life was relatively uneventful until the age of ten where he went with his father on a trip to Egypt. It was there that Ryou's father tried to endure a test to become the wielder of the evil spirit within the Millennium Ring, where a young Ryou had picked up the ring instead. Unknowing, his innocent and kind heart had caused the evil spirit within to completely control his mind where he suddenly blanked out. It took him nearly a decade to remember what he did when Yami Bakura had possessed him, but he had inadvertently killed someone when he was possessed.

Shortly after this incident, Ryou felt as though a curse had fallen on him. Specifically, he would have gaps in memory and was often in trouble at school for 'delinquent behavior'.

The worst would come when his sister and mother died in a car accident. Ryou was so distraught by this horrible tragedy that the spirit began to take over more and more without his knowledge. At fourteen, the spirit processing Ryou had trapped his friends' souls inside of their game figures which caused rumors around that Ryou was cursed or downright evil.

At some point, Ryou and his father would move back to Japan where he transferred to Domino High School. He would be introduced to Yugi Moto and his friends and finally felt like things were going right for him instead of nothing but evil. Though he was frequently bullied for his appearance, accent, kindness and shy demeanor. This only further aggravated the spirit who had completely taken over by the time Yugi Moto would go to Duelist Kingdom.

After Duelist Kingdom, Ryou would repeatedly try to throw away or destroy the Millennium Ring, only for it to come back and wreck havoc on his mind. The evil spirit would trap him inside his own mind, begging to be let out while he would never see what this spirit was doing to his body and friends.

Ryou would only have brief moments of consciousness at that point. He would remember hearing Tea mention that Yugi's puzzle was stolen, only for the spirit to take over and him coming back into consciousness atop a blimp facing off against Yugi in a duel. His arm was bleeding and in intense pain, only to completely lose consciousness again when the spirit took over. He would awaken again after Battle City had ended, at least relieved the spirit would quiet down for a while.

Ryou did everything to try and get away from the evil spirit. He tried Ouija boards to talk with him, cleansing rituals, praying in church, trying to seal the spirit within a teddy bear, etc etc. His deep love of the occult got him nowhere and it would end in another takeover by the spirit.

He doesn't know but he would end up all the way in Egypt to join the pharaoh in his quest to regain his memories. Yet even when the evil spirit was pulled out of his body, it still left Ryou too weak to take over again and thus was passed out.

He doesn't fully understand the next part, but he would eventually awaken with the ring's spirit finally gone and finally free of the evil spirit that had been possessing him for years at this point.

Now able to do what he wants, Ryou can finally live freely without fear of the spirit anymore. Particularly, he enjoys two hobbies - the occult and Dungeons and Dragons prop design.

He loves creating little figures for games, and frequently studies on knowledge of the occult. In his bedroom, he owns a ouija board that he hopes to someday contact his sister with. His love of all things macabre came as a way to process the grief in his heart over the death of his mom and sister, as well as an attempt to discover the spirit that once possessed him.

Ryou is incredibly sweet and soft spoken. He's friendly and very polite to speak to, but is often shy so he isn't one to engage in conversation easily. He is also incredibly naive and will often run with something out of the kindness of his heart.

He also has a habit of writing his sister letters and sending them into the sky via a balloon in hopes they'll reach heaven. Though due to his love of the paranormal, Ryou often does worry he'll someday encounter an evil spirit like that one.

Unlike Yugi, Ryou never developed or talked to the Yami of himself possessing him. He is deeply afraid of him and due to his soft nature, he let the evil spirit all but bully and abuse him. Despite being so similar to Yugi, the spirit never bothered to teach him true inner strength.

Growing up in England, Ryou has a strong British accent that comes through when he speaks Japanese. Although fluent, his pronunciation is rather lacking which would often end in him being bullied by classmates for his poor pronunciation.

[tedgabbard]

Episode 1: New Boys, New Girls, New City

Terrace House is a reality show that is different from most and before getting into the meat of this episode blog there are some things that should be explained. Terrace House features a house of six people, three men and three women. These people come from all different backgrounds and join the house with different intentions. While the focus of the show tends to be on dating and the romantic aspects between housemates, not everyone is there for that reason. Some housemates want to advance their careers and be around like-minded people, others want to soul search and find themselves, and some are simply there to assist the other housemates in their goals. Perhaps the most unique trait of the show is that there are no prizes to be won and housemates are free to leave the show at any time, only to be near-immediately replaced with a new housemate of the same gender. In this way, the show stays fresh and a single season can run for over fifty episodes. The show also features two distinct phases per episode. Rather than having the show focus purely on the housemates, the focus will often switch to a panel of six vivacious and stylish panelists. These panelists give their own commentary on the dealings of the housemates, providing a dimension that American based shows often don’t have. The first episode of each season starts similarly: One housemate enters the provided luxury lodgings and sits in the living room to await the arrival of the other 5 housemates. It’s a particularly awkward affair as one after the other they enter, a few minutes apart, just long enough to give the housemates who were already there enough time for a small bit of polite pleasantries. This season, the starting six housemates are Yuki/Tap, a professional Tap Dancer, Mizuki, an Office worker and part time barista, Makoto, a college student and baseball player, Minori, a college student and model, Uchihara/Uchi, a hair stylist, and Yuriko, a medical student. During their first conversations I’m immediately drawn Mizuki from the women and Uchi from the men. Mizuki seems casual and a bit more outgoing than the other women who are noticeably reserved, while Uchi seems like a creative type, bringing a sewing machine with him to the house mentioning it’s a recent hobby he’s picked up. After the housemates meet, they dive into one of the more fun regular segments at the start of the series, and that is exploring the luxury home they’ll be living in. The group of six first examine the kitchen and dining room, and as they do Tap oddly asserts that it’s where the women will be doing the cooking, a bit of an off-putting remark to be sure, but interestingly it’s one that no one seems to bat an eye at. The group splits into two, with the women checking out their shared bathroom and bedroom, and the men checking out their bedroom followed by the “playroom”. Given this is my second viewing of the show, the novelty and sheen of being exposed to something for the first time has worn off, and small things are sticking out to me that didn’t on my original watch: the ladies room being brightly lit, open, and painted white. The men’s room being exceptionally small, dark with no windows, and furniture colored brown. The playroom is quite sparse furniture-wise with only two cheap chairs, huge empty shelving units, one small table, and one small TV. The house itself lacking in many decorations, with minimalistic furniture filling the majority of the home. 

The groups finish their explorations of the home and begin to reconvene in the kitchen area, with the men following shortly behind the women. Seeing the Women in the kitchen, Tap once again asks if the women were cooking, what they were cooking, proclaiming that he is hungry, and once again these comments go largely unaddressed, save for some of the women stating they don’t really cook. After a short conversation, the group splits into two with Makoto, Mizuki, and Minori going grocery shopping, while Tap, Uchi, and Yuriko stay behind. The splitting of the groups comes across mainly as a reason to mix up the group and get some social dynamics going. During this time Uchi and Yuriko get a little time to get to know one another, their conversation ending with Uchi asking Yuriko to make her cooking speciality, simmered traditional Japanese, for him sometime. The shopping trip is largely uneventful, though notably Minori proclaims Uchi to be a bit “peculiar”.  Once the cast returns home for dinner they waste no time getting into their “types”. Uchi is the most open, or rather, the other men, specifically Tap, at the table call him out first explaining that it would make sense for him to be the most popular. At this point, I’m unsure what to make of Tap, his actions continue to cast him in an usual light, and this calling out of Uchi, while seemingly friendly, makes him appear almost threatened. Uchi and the rest of the cast state the type of person they like, and almost all of them say their type is “cute”. It’s a broad descriptor, fitting of people who really are unsure of what they are looking for beyond that they want to be physically attracted to someone.

In one of the two final segments of the show, the commentators give their analysis as assumptions of the cast. Uchi, of course, is called out as being too appealing, specifically by commentator Yamasato. This is par for the course for Yamasato and his “role” as the “mean one” who actively roots for people to be unlucky or unappealing. Interestingly, some of the most scathing commentary comes from commentator Baba-chan, who is typically quite joyful, calling Yuriko selfish. Why does she call Yuriko selfish? Because she keeps saying she’s hungry. Personally, the connection isn’t there for me, but I chalk this up to cultural differences.

Finally, we return back to the house starting with the girls. They chit chat a bit about who they like (all three women say Makoto) while Mizuki searches her messy bag, Mizuki very much giving off “relatable” vibes. The combination of her messy bag (which Yuriko points out), her stable jobs as an office worker and barista, makes her the most down to earth of the women so far. The segment the returns to the men, discussing who they like best after the first day, again Uchi takes center stage with Tap and Makoto insisting that he was making a play for Yuriko. Given the questions he asked her during their dinner, anyone would be led to this assumption, but instead he answers with “Mizuki”.

The episode closes there and next up is Episode 2 “Three Crushes”.

[on-the-shelves]

on my shelf: soundtrack to MA year 2 - summer

HAPPY 50TH POST APPARENTLY! My last post feels like forever ago, but it's only been a couple months. Classes went back to being fully offline which meant constant commuting and no time to do any of the work I needed to do... but somehow I managed to get through it. More important, though, is that since my last post I finally started going to concerts again! It's been so so so fun being in that environment again, being part of a crowd of people singing and dancing along to music you all love. My first show back was actually KPop Flex festival day 1 which was.. interesting. The artists were all amazing and the vibe was wonderful but the organisation was a bit chaotic. The other shows were Lorde (finally!!!), Coldplay (my second time!), and Loona (12-3). Though I always swore I would never, me and my friend stood at the back of the crowd for all of these shows, and we still had the absolute best time. 10/10 would recommend. Wearing a mask wasn't uncomfortable at all either and has helped me evade the plague so far, so 10/10 would recommend, too.

Okay, I think that's enough intro now - let's get into my summer soundtrack (everything since my last post until now):

BTS: Proof (2022)

An anthology album that features all of their lead singles on disc 1, one solo and one sub-unit song chosen by each member on disc 2, demos on disc 3, and 3 new songs throughout. It's so cool to hear how they evolved musically but stayed true lyrically, all in one compact place. There are some true gems among the CD-only demos, like Jin's alternate version of "Epiphany" and SUGA's "Seesaw" instrumental demo. I'm glad we have the final versions we now have, but being able to hear what other directions some of my favourite songs could've gone into is so cool. The three new songs are both unlike anything they've done before and unmistakably Bangtan. "Yet To Come" is hopeful and comforting, "Run BTS" is cool and driving, and "For Youth" is soulfully sentimental. They're a great interlude as they (and we) move into chapter 2.

Fav: "Run BTS"

j-hope: Jack In The Box (2022)

Speaking of chapter 2, j-hope started the more "me" focussed era with a truly outside of the box album. While 2018's Hope World was both bright and a smidgen darker hip-hop, all in all danceable and what we know Hoseok to be like, Jack In The Box does its name justice. Genre-wise it moves around between rock ("More"), old school hip-hop (basically every song) and some soulful moments ("Safety Zone"). Lyrically, he's never been this raw and open, touching on being stuck between feeling like he's worked too hard and not worked enough, feeling like he has no place of respite, but also feeling fairly sure of his own identity between all of it. His hopeful demeanour isn't gone, he's just showing it in a new way and reflecting on it more. j-hope also headlined Lollapalooza in Chicago shortly after the album's release and the only word to describe that performance is MIND-BLOWING. He commands the stage and crowd like no other.

Fav: "Safety Zone"

Tomorrow x Together: Minisode 2: Thursday's Child (2022)

Though they have showed a darker side at various points in their discography, this EP has been the most consistent at running with the theme and does it in a new way for them. It's well-crafted, telling a story from one song to the next, but each song can easily stand on its own. The story of a boy who gets his heart broken moves from the devastating, pull-at-your-hair emotional "Opening Sequence" to angry and energetic "Good Boy Gone Bad" to sad and beautiful ballad "Trust Fund Baby" to low-key, trap-based sub-unit track "Lonely Boy", ending on a euphoric high note with Beomgyu produced sub-unit track "Thursday's Child Has Far to Go". Their vocal skills have been amazing since their debut album, but they really show off what they can do here. You can't help but be pulled in by them.

Fav: "Thursday's Child Has Far To Go"

Red Velvet: The ReVe Festival 2022 - Feel My Rhythm (2022)

This EP feels very much like a natural progression from last year's Queendom EP, with a similar more mature but still undeniably Red Velvet sound. Title track "Feel My Rhythm" masterfully incorporates Bach's "Air on the G String", giving the song a fresh but also eery vibe - the quintessential description of Red Velvet. I had fun spotting all the nods to art works in the music video, especially the Hieronymus Bosch references, since I wrote a paper about him almost exactly a year before the MV was released! The album artwork partially has the members dressed up as ballerinas in music boxes, which I LOVE. I'm not entirely sure why the album title references their 2019 album series The ReVe Festival, since the music isn't very similar. This EP is more understated, but still rich. The Bach reference really influences the rest of the songs in attitude: they all share a kind of elegant confidence, which suits the members well at this stage in their 8-year career.

Fav: "Beg For Me"

LOONA: [Summer Special] Fl!p That (2022)

This EP was released very shortly after LOONA's participation on the girl group competition show "Queendom 2" (which they should have won imo BUT ALAS) and showed a completely different side to them than on the show and their previous EPs. The other contestants often criticized them for not doing the strong performances they've become known for and then they release this EP that is full of the opposite of what people have come to expect. I love that. Their discography is so diverse and this EP adds yet a new flavour. It's quite understated (except for "POSE", their final song from "Queendom 2"), yet full of heart. Especially "Playback" stands out, as its heartfelt lyrics were written by members HaSeul, Kim Lip and Yves, a first for the group. The show showed how involved they are (and have to be) in so many aspects of their performances, so seeing them involved in the songs itself gives me hope that they'll get this chance more often. Considering the LOONAVERSE lore, it's interesting that intro instrumental "The Journey" and title track "Flip That" sample "Frozen" by the sub-unit yyxy's 2017 album. I'll leave what it might mean up to the lore detectives among Orbits. Amidst a stressful year for fans and the group, I'm glad that at least all 12 members are on the EP.

Fav: "Need U"

fromis_9: Midnight Guest (2022)

I got into this EP a couple of months after it was released. I loved title track "DM" immediately and have been karaoke'ing it consistently, but didn't listen to the full EP until the spring. It kicks off with the bold R&B of "Escape Room", which is easily my favourite song on the EP. It also includes the pretty ballad "Love Is Around", bouncy but smooth "Hush Hush" and city pop inspired (even referencing the genre's most famous song "Plastic Heart") "0g", ticking off so many of my favourite things. The girls have great vocals and the instrumentals are so satisfying to listen to.

Fav: "Escape Room"

NewJeans: NewJeans (2022)

One day, I get a notification from the HYBE YouTube channel: the official music video for "Attention" by NewJeans has been uploaded. Hold up. Who is NewJeans? I thought I knew everyone who's under HYBE?! Well. "Attention" is the perfect title for the first song released by this new girl group because they immediately had mine (and apparently many others' too). The sound is clearly inspired by girl groups from the early 2000s with the lush vocal harmonies and lowkey instrumental, which is something you don't hear in K-Pop, where the credo is the more the better. NewJeans, through all 4 tracks on this EP, are like a breath of fresh air. The members are very young, so I hope the company goes easy on them workload-wise. But looking at their styling, which is quite trendy according to current teen fashion (which is also inspired by the 2000s so it works well) but not too exposed or too cutesy, it seems like they're in good hands.

Fav: "Attention" (but all 4 songs are so so great)

---and here's some more that I'm not gonna write a whole thing for:

Kep1er: Doublast (2022)

Le Sserafim: Fearless (2022)

Mamamoo: I Say Mamamoo: The Best (2021)

(G)I-DLE: I NEVER DIE (2022)

STAYC: WE NEED LOVE (2022)

BTS: Dark & Wild (2014), Skool Luv Affair (2014)

---and some singles:

benny blanco, BTS, Snoop Dogg: "Bad Decisions" (2022)

Psy feat. SUGA of BTS: "That That" (2022)

Crush feat. j-hope of BTS: "Rush Hour" (2022)

Balming Tiger feat. RM of BTS: "Sexy Nukim" (2022)

Jimin & Ha Sungwoon: "With You" (2022)

ADORA: "Trouble? Travel!" (2022)

Sunmi: "Heart Burn", "Childhood" (2022)

[georgiaheartsdilfs]

sneaking in | bucky x reader

my masterlist ↪M A S T E R L I S T

prompt ↪ "i wish you didn't have to sneak in, i love waking up to you in the morning"

warnings / other notes ↪ 

Bucky sat across from me biting his lip, we had been in this meeting for hours. It was mainly Tony and Steve bickering over who had to go to the next mission.

"Ladies, I'm sure we'd all love to watch you fight... again, but as it turns out we all have hero duty and a life." Natasha stands up dusting her hands off before tossing the folder we were given on the table.

"It's almost 12 am aswell." Clint yawns "my family don't sleep well without me" he rubs his eyes, grabbing his coat before exiting the room shortly after Nat.

Sam and Bucky looked between each other, Bruce and I had trailed off into another conversation whilst Vision had fallen asleep on Wanda's shoulder. Thor had left long before the meeting even started and rightfully so, we hadn't covered anything.

"Vision" Wanda said quietly, Steve and Tony continued bickering as the rest of us stood up "i'm off to bed." Sam yawns "can I join you in your bed" I chuckle jokingly and he walks around wrapping his arm around me.

Sam always walked me to bed, it made sense since he slept on the same floor as me "no you're suppose to sign it rogers." Tony spat "no one will sign anything, everyone is going to bed." I mumble, Bruce, Wanda and Vision all got up and left.

As Sam and I wait for the elevator Bucky jogs up behind us "hey" he says trying not to smile at me.

We had been secretly dating for 7 months, he and I both weren't sure about telling the team since our whole thing was that we didn't get along aswell as anybody else, when in fact we got together quite well.

"Hey Bucky" I say looking up at his, he was far taller than me maybe by 5 inches which in reality looked like a whole foot was missing from my height "What're you doing tonight?" Sam asked Bucky.

The elevator door opened and we all walked in, Sam to my left, Bucky to my right. Bucky had slept on the floor below us so he pressed his level and Sam pressed ours.

"probably reading, maybe a bit of sleeping since that's what people do at night, Sam." Bucky says giving Sam a displeased look "right well I guess you don't want to come to my room and watch a movie." Sam folds his arm "you're right, I don't" Bucky says before the door opens.

He walks out and I secretly wave him goodbye as he walks off "why don't you get along well with him?" Sam asks "like you do?" I ask "I get along with him more than you." Sam says "and?" I say laughing "who would want to get along with someone who can't keep a conversation" I say and Sam laughs as he agrees by nodding.

The doors open to our floors and Sam walks me to my room "goodnight sammuel" I say and he laughs "goodnight y/n/n" I wave goodbye as he walks down the hallway to his room.

"Jarvis, does anybody know?" I ask before closing the door "Know what Ms y/l/n" Jarvis says "you know about Barnes" I clear my throat speaking quietly "No Ma'am I have not told a soul" the AI responds.

"What is he doing?" I say laying on my bed, staring at the roof waiting for his response "Mr Barnes is currently having a bath and also reading." my mouth drops, he was actually reading, he didn't mind reading not that it phased him as much as the hobbit.

"Right, and what about Steve and Tony." I ask and it didn't take long for Jarvis to respond "They are in the meeting area, discussing about signing records, Ms Y/l/n" Jarvis responds and I chuckle to myself.

Jarvis wasn't particularly human, but he understood how private I wanted my life to remain. Well the relationship part of it anyways. Whenever someone asked for my whereabouts in the tower, Jarvis always asked me before immediately telling the person, maybe it was because I was the second youngest in the tower to Wanda.

Despite being an AI, I think Jarvis and I were friends, he's very loyal to Tony though.

Jumping up off my bed, I walk towards my bathroom. "I could do with a shower aswell" I huff taking my clothes off and running the shower.

Towards the end of my shower I grab a towel wrapping my hair "what's the time Jarvis?" I ask the AI wrapping another towel around my body.

"it is 1:37 am, Ms Y/l/n" he responds and I walk over to my closet, I hated staying up past 3 but if I really had to I would.

After putting my clothes on and letting my hair down I lay down in my bed, my door swings open and immediately closes "Jarvis, you tell no one." Bucky looks up at the roof and I chuckle.

He takes off his shirt jumping in bed next to me wrapping his arms around me "hi baby" he says quietly in a low voice before kissing me on the lips "mm hi Bucky" i chuckle kissing him again as he moves one hand up to my cheek.

"i was waiting for you." smiling at him he gives me a shocked face "wow, really?" he says sarcastically and I laugh hitting his chest, my hand running along his beard.

"how was your day?" he asks burying his face in the the crook of my neck "well half of the day was just Tony and Steve arguing all night and somehow, all I could think about was you hugging me like you are now." I say and he laughs "really?" he asks and I laugh "yeah what about you."

"well my girlfriend had a mission today, when she got back we all had a meeting and I couldn't take my eyes off her... all meeting because she just looked, so fucking hot." he chuckles.

"god i love you" I smile as he pulls his face out of my neck, kissing my cheek "i think i love you more, i'm the one sneaking in at night." he says making me laugh "what you're old man back can't handle it anymore?" I ask him.

"you've been doing it for seven months" I egg him on "I could have easily gone to watch a movie with Sam" he says pulling me closer "But you wouldn't have, because, he made you jealous which was the reason why you said no in the first place." my hand reaches his hair.

Running my hand through his hair he looks up at me smiling "what, am i warming up your bionic arm too much metal man?" I ask him chuckling "no, no." I say "then what is it?" I ask him gently.

"am I not allowed to stare into my girlfriend's eyes lovingly?" he says running his thumb along my cheek "i love your eyes." I say, my voice trailing off as I get lost in his steel blue eyes.

"my mother said they'd be the reason i got a girlfriend." his voice went low again "yeah i only love you for the steely blue eyes, nothing else" I say sarcastically "i love you" he holds me in his arms.

"i wish you didn't have to sneak in, i love waking up to you in the morning" I groan, his abs rubbing up against my hip "i wish i didn't have to either doll, but the way everything is going especially with Stark and Steve, I don't know how they'll react." he mumbled sitting up.

I look up at him, "sit" he says opening his legs and patting the space in between them, getting up I adjust my position to sit in the empty space between his legs, leaning my back against his stomach.

His hands being braiding my hair "do you think, if i had met you in the 40's you'd even notice me?" I ask him "you've asked me this before, y/n." his voice sound concentrated like braiding my hair was the most important thing he had done.

"yeah but it plays on my mind, you've never answered it before." I say playing with my fingers "of course i'd notice you, it would be hard not to with beautiful eyes and a bold personality like yours. you're exactly my type." he says still concentrated.

"you would have loved me back then, y/n y/l/n, it's a shame that was 60 years before your time" he chuckles "yeah, what a shame." I say looking down "hey, hey, hey my braid miss you're ruining it." he says and I laugh "right sorry".

"Ms Y/l/n, Mr Rogers is wondering if he could visit you, he is at the door." Jarvis says and Bucky lets go off my hair "don't touch it" he says grabbing his shirt and running to my bathroom closing the door.

"Sure Jarvis" I smile walking over to the door, opening it slowly "Hey Steve" I smile "Hey y/n, uh can I come in?" He asks in a gentle manner "sure I was just braiding my hair" I smile moving out of the way of the door.

Sitting on my bed he sits next to me "it looks nice" he said pointing to my hair "yeah, it's taken a while." I smile "what did ya need, Steve?" I ask politely and he sighed "I just wanted to apologise, Tony and I we don't mean to ruin meetings like that. We did have something planned." he said "oh im sure of it." I chuckle softly.

Looking over to my bathroom door, I hear Bucky's movement.

"Also, I know." Steve said snapping me out of my thoughts "About?" I hum "You and Bucky." his face changed from a gentle smile to a smirk "What, Steve, Bucky and I can barely make it through a mission." I make up an excuse.

"You think I don't know when my best bud is in love, I see it in his eyes y/n, i've known for a month or two." Steve claps "but you did try to hide it" he continues.

Bucky walks out of the bathroom "tell anyone and I'll kill you" he points his finger at Steve "I knew it, I knew it, I knew it, you are in love with her." Steve jumps up clapping "so you sneak in every night to see her." Steve says excitedly.

Bucky sits next to me with his shirt on, his flesh arm wrapping around my shoulder as he gives me an awkward look "not exactly" Bucky says "you so do" Steve laughs "I can't believe it." he covers his mouth.

"My best bud finally loosened up for a women, how long?" he asks and I sigh "what?" Bucky says "how long?'.

Well there goes the whole plan with my boyfriend.

[teyvat-imagines]

Hello! I read your last post about Diluc, Childe, and Kaeya cheating on their pregnant S/o and I was wondering if I can request the three of them meeting their child years after the whole event?

To make it a bit more angsty, the child explains to them that their S/o died after giving birth?

Hey there! Sorry this took such a long time to answer! D: I hope you still enjoy this! (If enjoy is the right word when it comes to angst at least? XD)

Original Post

TW: Cheating, Reader was cheated on, Character death

Part 2: Meeting Their Child

Diluc:

○ For Diluc, the memories of that day stayed with him. His choices haunted him for a long time, even more so when you chose to move away from Mondstadt as a result. You were heartbroken and it was entirely his fault.

○ The day you left, he watched you go. He had no right to try and stop you, not after what he had done. Diluc had made his choices and now he had to live with them. By some small miracle, you never told a soul what he had done to you, so no one ever blamed him for your leaving.

○ He tried to live a well-adjusted life. Donna moved in with him shortly after you left, which caused rumours to swirl of course, but nothing ever solid. Just idle gossip. Still, it stung, nonetheless. And they were right. His tryst with Donna had been the reason you left. He had cheated on you and no longer deserved to be part of your life.

○ Many years passed since that fateful day. Diluc carried on as best as he could. Donna eventually lost interest and the two went their separate ways. He never coupled with anyone else, constantly looking for you in the shadows of the city, praying to catch a glimpse of you.

○ One day it finally happed, he spotted you walking away from Good Hunters. Finally! A chance to apologise for that horrible mistake! He ran after you as fast as his legs could carry him, reaching out to grab your shoulder and-

"Who the hell are you!?"

○ Disappointment. A young adult glared back at him, shrugging off his grip. They looked almost exactly like you. A near perfect copy of you bar one feature. The eyes... They were exactly like his. Then this must be...

"Are you (Y/N)'s child...?"

○ Diluc was almost afraid to ask, but he had to know. There was confusion on the youth's face, until they finally realised who he was. Then, nothing but pure hatred and anger.

"You're Diluc I presume. Yeah, I am (Y/N)'s kid. Not that you care. You didn't give a shit about us then, why should you give a shit about me now. Or do you want redemption? Is that it? Well, it's too late. Far too late. So, leave me alone."

"Please, what do you mean by that?"

○ Clinging to desperate hope, Diluc grabbed onto his child once more. There was an ache in his chest, a fear waiting in the back of his mind. But, surely he was over thinking this... Surely he was wrong... Please let him be wrong.

"(Y/N)'s dead."

○ And just like that, Diluc's world shattered once more. He let his child walk away after that, too hurt and far too ashamed to pursue them anymore. He never thought this could happen. Never realised just how badly he had messed up all those years ago. Diluc lost you once that day, and now he's lost you again.

Childe:

○ Sometimes, Childe thought about you. When he was in the middle of a fight, when he woke up in the cold mornings and especially when he was with other lovers. He couldn't shake the image of you from his mind.

○ Does he regret what he did to you? Does he pity you? He's not really sure what this feeling is. But no matter how many years pass, you still come to his mind from time to time.

○ There were days when he considered trying to find you. It wouldn't take him long, not with the funds the Fatui offered him. Even without them, he was a dedicated warrior. With his senses there was no doubt he could track you down.

○ So why didn't he? Guilt? Fear? Who’s to say. Childe didn't really want to put too much thought into it if he could help it. So, he didn't. He ignored your presence; let you live out your life while he lived his. There was no need to make things messy now. What happened had happened.

○ Childe spent so long thinking he was free from his consequences he hadn't expected them to come back and hit him in the face. Quite literally at that.

○ Taking a stroll around Liyue Harbour, he'd had to vague feeling someone had been watching him. But he'd decided there wasn't much of a threatening presence to them so best to just ignore it and continue his day.

○ Just as he was leaving the city, that's when he was struck. A surprise attack, hitting him square in the face and knocking him off balance. He looked up at his attacker with an excited grin. It'd been a while since he'd had a good fight after all and-

"(Y/N)...?"

○ It couldn't be... It was you? You were coming for revenge after all these years? Really. He hadn't figured you for the petty type. Not that you ever had a hope of beating him. Still... Despite this, he made no efforts to raise his hands in retaliation. Childe just sat there, stunned. Even more so when his opponent spoke.

"Shut up. You don't get to say that name! Not after you left us! You Fatui scum! You're the reason this all happened..."

○ That voice wasn't yours, it wasn't anywhere close... So, this must be his kid. Despite the circumstances, Childe felt pride bloom in his chest. He had always hoped his kid would be a fine young warrior just as he was. But one thing was bothering him...

"What do you mean...? All of what happened?"

"(Y/N)'s dead. No thanks to you. I grew up alone. No family to help me and the only surviving parent was a deadbeat father who cheated on the only person who loved his stupid ass!"

○ Childe felt his world go cold. All that time he spent thinking of you and you were... You were gone... He... Had he really caused it...? There was no fight left in the Harbinger. Certainly not as his own flesh and blood drew their weapon, revenge burning in their eyes. Regardless of what happened here, whether he would live or die, Childe couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Not without you.

Kaeya:

○ Not long after you left him, Kaeya withdrew from the Knights of Favonius. He cited health problems as the reason, but it didn't take a trained eye to spot he was completely fine. Despite his nonchalant attitude when you walked away, there was a pain deep inside him that seemed to grow with each day.

○ Besides, this was surely the better option for you too! Surely you didn't want to see his ugly mug every day, right? So, with his mind made up and a soft farewell to his friends.

○ It stung a little to realise you weren't coming to see him off. But honestly, he couldn't blame you. He had hurt you after all, and quite badly at that. No, all he could do was move on and carry on with his life.

○ So that's exactly what Kaeya did. He travelled Teyvat. Running from his problems. From his mistakes. Kaeya lost track of how many years he stayed away from Mondstadt, but eventually he felt the need to return. Whether out of obligation or the assumption that it had been so long his crimes would be forgotten, either way Kaeya finally returned to Mondstadt.

○ He greeted many old friends upon his return, but there was one face he hadn't been able to find. Yours. No matter where he looked, you were nowhere to be seen. Had you left Mondstadt as well? Were you avoiding him somehow? Were you... Ill...?

○ Kaeya shook the last thought from his head, turning instead to the drink in front of him. Now was the time to celebrate, not get caught up in silly thoughts, right? Right! With that, he downed his mug and turned back to the barkeep, bumping into someone in the process.

"Watch it-! Wait... It's you... Kaeya..."

"Do I know you?"

○ Kaeya stared at the stranger and pondered. Their face was familiar sure, but he couldn't quite place it. Had it really been that long or was it the booze having an impact his memories... Either way, there was a feeling deep in his chest that told him he needed to remember who this was. It was important... The stranger scoffed, venom lacing their tone.

"Of course, you don't recognise me. Why would you. I bet we didn't cross your mind once when you left. Maybe you remember (Y/N). The person you cheated on. I'm your kid in case you were wondering."

○ Kaeya felt shock hit him like a mitachurl's axe. This was... So then, where were you? Why weren't you here? Could he get to see you finally? What would he even say? Could he even say anything at this point? So many thoughts raced and swirled in his mind, that the next words from his child's mouth froze him in place.

"(Y/N)'s dead by the way. Not that you'd care. You never did."

○ Anger boiled over in his kid and they lashed out, striking him square in the face. The dull ache in his cheek was nothing compared to the pain in his chest. You were dead... He would never get to see you again... The last memory he had of you was of the pain in your eyes as he betrayed your trust and love. And nothing was ever going to take this pain away.

[selenesheart]

astonished // d.m.

word count: 1.9k words

warnings: smut, oral sex (male receiving), innocent looking reader, best friends au, dirty talk, wet dream, praises, naughty thoughts.

summary: draco never thought the innocent y/n would give such an amazing blowjob.

a/n: thanks to @silverdelirium for telling me to write ily

—————

“oh yeah! just like that,” draco groaned as he held your hips tightly, the side of your face pressed against the mattress harshly by his hand. his hips coming in contact with yours, clapping sounds could be heard from where the two of you connected.

heavy breathing, sweaty hands, and a very visible boner. those were the things draco woke up to. lately, he’s been having these sweet dreams that involved you getting naked at the end.

the blonde groaned as he rubbed his eyes tiredly, he couldn’t control it, the thought of shagging you until you were breathless, it always came back. even it the worst times possible.

he felt guilt swirl at the pitch of his stomach, embarrassment fulfilled his body at the many times he’d dreamed about you, on that little skirt of yours.

he felt bad, yet he could help but imagine those little innocent eyes of yours, or how you would look with your fingers going in and out of you repeatedly.

he was sure that you had little to no experience in the sexual world. considering the fact that he had watched boys and girls give you useless hints, and joked about their sex life, yet you gave no reactions to those conversations, having no clue of what any of that meant, or so he thought.

────

“why don’t you shag her, then?” blaise spoke shortly after draco explain his situation to his best friend. “shh! no, I’m not doing such thing.” draco shushed blaise, he wasn’t really trying to get humiliated in the middle of breakfast.

“you know y/n,” draco sighed “she’s not really into that type of stuff.” said draco, the thought of telling you rushing in his mind, but quickly waving it off as he saw you walk in the great hall, with that bright smile, and those angelic features.

“how do you know?” asked blaise.

“pardon?”

“how do you know if she’s not into that type of stuff? I mean sure, she looks like she wouldn’t kill a soul, but again, it doesn’t mean she’s has a limited sex life.” he advised draco, who seemed to be deep in thought.

draco watched as you took sat with your friends, a few tables always from his.

blaise could be right. but he was too much of a coward to actually talk to you about such things, despite the fact that you know him like the back of your hand.

draco never imagined that his sweet, innocent best friend would even dare to be on her knees for someone. he felt his pants tighten at the thought of your beautiful body, sinking on your knees for him, glassy eyes looking up at him, mouth full of his heavy cock.

he took a deep breath as he gripped his silver spoon, he felt dizzy, and with shaky hands, he dismissed himself from breakfast. this girl would be the death of him.

────

“y/n!” your friend called “you’ve been staring at the same spot for more than thirty minutes,” they spoke quietly. blinking a few times, you tore your eyes from the blonde’s empty chair. wondering why would draco miss his favourite class? only if you knew.

you were worried for him. these past few weeks, he’d been avoiding you, acting a bit odd. sometimes you’d catch his eyes looking at you, analyzing every move you made. still, you would deliver him a sweet smile before returning to whatever your current task was.

sometimes, you wished those warm smiles, and the glances the two of you shared across the room meant something and the times where he would hold your hand under the table made you feel warm inside. you would be lying if you said that you didn’t think of the handsome blonde while your fingers were inside you.

often, you would think about how his mesmerizing eyes would hold eye contact while his dick would enter you roughly and fuck you senselessly until all you could do is mumble a few breaths of malfoy’s.

maybe this was wrong. yet you couldn’t help but have wild thoughts about your so-called best friend.

────

you took a deep breath before knocking on draco’s door, hoping that he would be alone at the moment. you played with your fingers while waiting, you bit your bottom lip slightly as you saw the dark door open with a tired draco behind it.

merlin, did he look good.

with slightly wet hair, pajama pants on, accompanied by a simple white shirt. if you didn’t know better, you would say that you could see the outline of his abs through his thin shirt. you let out a breath before speaking again.

“can— can we talk?” you asked quietly, you watched as draco’s jaw muscles flexed. he let you in his cold dorm as he eyed you for a second, taking your appearance in.

you had a night slip covering your body, considering that it was almost curfew, you just wanted to have a small talk with him before heading to your room. it took all of him to not stare at your cleavage for more than a second.

“what do you want to talk about?” he said nervously, maybe you had used the legilimency spell on him and read of all his naughty thoughts about her getting naked with him. or perhaps…

“why are you avoiding me draco?” the way his name left your mouth was intoxicating. he furrowed his brows, walking closer to you. you felt small under his presence.

“i’m not!”

“yes, you are”

“no, i am not”

“what did i do wrong?” you questioned your best friend, maybe it had something to do with the way you treated him in the past.

“what? nothing, you did nothing wrong. it’s just that—” his voice died as he closed his eyes, he took a deep breath. he didn’t really want to tell you how he felt about you. what if you left and never came back to his life? he didn’t want to risk it.

“it’s just what? tell me draco,” you raised your voice unexpectedly “tell me what’s wrong so I can help you.” you said sweetly. he hated the way you could still be sweet even when you just finished yelling at him.

“it’s nothing, I swear!” he raised his voice immediately “how about we talk in the morning, hm?” he hummed, trying to save his embarrassment for the next day.

“just tell me what’s going on so I can go!” you yelled, anger and frustration building up in your body. your eyes looking directly at his. you were extremely close now.

“fine!” he yelled, you could practically see the smoke coming out of his ears “I’ve had wet dreams about you and… I still do, okay?” he admitted, he groaned as he rubbed his temple in frustration.

“and I know you’re not quite familiar with—” he tried to explain himself before you cut him off.

“draco” you breathed, you took his face in your hands. hesitantly, you brought your lips to his, kissing him slowly but firmly. after the two of you parted lips, he looked lost of words.

“do you trust me?” you asked with a tiny smile on your face. he nodded, still dumbfounded by the breathtaking kiss you just gave him.

soon, the two of you were devouring each other. lips, tongues connected as you took your time taking off your night slip dress. when it was off draco wasted no time on caressing one of your soft breasts, rolling your hardening nipple between his fingers. finally feeling the tits he always imagines while stroking himself at night.

you disconnected your lips from his as he took his shirt off, muscular, smooth chest on display. your hand traveled from his chest to his lower stomach. palming his growing cock through his pants.

he breathed out your name when you got on your knees, holding his long legs for support. he began telling you that you didn’t have to do this if you didn’t want to before you shushed him. you placed small kisses over his crotch, smiling slightly as you felt it twitch against your lips.

you hooked your fingers in his pants, bringing his pajama pants down along with his underwear. you observed his heavy dick with parted lips, it looked delicious. your hand came in contact with the tip as your eyes went up to his face. innocent eyes looking up at him.

the fact that you still looked innocent drove him crazy, it made the desire for you grow. he felt filthy, yet he couldn’t help but made him want to destroy you and that little innocent face.

“you have no idea how long I’ve waited for this,” you spoke so close to his dripping tip, he could feel your breath against it. he fought the urge of grabbing the back of your head and shoving his whole length down your throat.

your lips came in contact with his tip, sucking on it roughly, taking draco off guard. you were doing so good, mind-blowing good actually. he never imagined you would be so skillful with your mouth.

you took more of his cock in your mouth, your hands working on the rest of his length. then, you took all of him in, his tip pressed against your throat as his fingers made their way down your head, guiding you up and down while he threw his head back.

“you’re doing— oh— so good” he groaned lowly, one of his hands flew to his bed’s poster for support. you moaned against him at the praise, his word making you clench your thighs.

the blonde thrusted his hips, making you gag loudly, tears threatening to escape your eyes. draco caressed the side of your face lovingly like your mouth wasn’t full of his dick.

your hand made its way to his aching balls, folding them, as you hollowed your cheeks, making draco moan loudly.

“fuck! you’re so good to me,” his mouth opened, however, there was no sound coming out of it. he felt his high coming quickly.

you released a hand from him, taking it up until you were feeling his abs, you could feel how his muscles flexed against your skin from the pleasure. he was cumming soon.

you grabbed one of draco’s hands and guided it down to your chest so he could feel your desperate breasts. he saw stars the moment his fingers tips came in contact with your hard nipple, he grabbed your tit roughly as his prick twitched uncontrollably.

before you knew it, your best friend’s cum was dripping down your throat, stuffing your mouth with his warm cum as he moaned loudly from the pleasure you gave him.

your tongue collected all of the remaining liquid. draco felt like he was dreaming, his kind, innocent best friend just sucked him off like a fucking goddess. even if he was dreaming, he would surely wank off to whatever this was in the future.

with his hands still on top of your breasts, you opened your mouth to show him that you had swallowed all of his cum. his eyes grew dark.

“oh merlin,” he sighed as he felt his dick hardened once more.

—————

[the-hidden-pages]

Pesky Feelings: Part 1 - Earth-2 Harrison Wells x Fem!Reader

Part 1 is all an excuse to write this man utterly railing the reader in the next part, and I’m not sorry for that. Still, wouldn’t be me without 2000+ words of world-building.

Synopsis: Despite being the team's resident empath, it would be your feelings towards the Earth-2 genius that would prove to be your downfall.

Warnings: None in part 1 beyond a lot of unnecessary feelings. Also this has not been parsed or edited, apologies.

When the Harrison Wells of Earth-2 arrived in S.T.A.R. Labs, you were as shocked as the others. There, standing in your midst was the face of the man who had caused so much trauma for the team…but it wasn’t the same man.

It was completely understandable that the team was so wary around him – the Wells that was actually Eobard Thawne had betrayed Caitlin, killed Cisco in another timeline, and was the reason both Barry’s mother and Eddie Thawne were dead. The face of Harrison Wells was not one that was to be well-received on this earth…

But that didn’t seem to keep you away from him.

You had your doubts, surely. But went it came to the original Harrison Wells, the Thawne version of Harrison Wells, there had always been something…off about him that you couldn’t explain.

Your meta-human ability could be thanked for that.

Empathy itself is hardly a rare human trait. Any person with half a brain, you believed, could become empathetic under the right circumstances. But somehow when the particle accelerator exploded, you found yourself going beyond the normal limits of that. You truly FELT the emotions of those around you, coming off them in overwhelming waves that all clashed with each other until your brain was overloaded with thoughts and feelings that were not your own.

The original Wells taught you how to filter out the emotions to find your own again.

But within that training that he offered; it went without saying that you felt his emotions. And what put you off wasn’t rage, wasn’t sadness or, as Cisco asked you one day, “evil vibes”.

No, it was his lack of emotion. His pure, unnerving emotional control.

Everyone around you so often would have bursts, their feelings would change endlessly at any given moment of every day…except for him. He had near perfect control.

And when he didn’t, the rage, the hatred, the pure venomous destruction within his soul was overpowering.

You almost weren’t surprised when he turned out to be a murderer.

And it was from that logic that you found yourself trusting Earth-2’s Harrison Wells – now known simply as Harry – before anyone else on the team.

He was…well, a dick, surely. He seemed to have little-to-no bedside manner or understanding of emotions, which in many ways made him your antitheses.

But unlike his predecessor, he was filled to the brim with feelings.

Sad ones, mind you. Anguish, despair, loathing, loneliness, rage, and longing were some of the key sentiments you could identify, and their constant repetition in his mind had you cornering him in Cisco’s lab one day once everyone had gone home.

He was working, as always. Working to escape the emotions, you had wondered.

You knocked lightly on the entryway to announce your presence, though he hardly glanced up, only nodding up towards you to indicate that you get on with whatever you were here for.

You felt the irritation flash through him but pushed forward anyway.

“Harry…” you started, before an unrelated thought took over you and propelled itself out of your mouth. “We’ve all been calling you Harry since you got here, but no one’s bothered to ask if it bothers you at all. Do you prefer Harrison, or Doctor Wells, or…?”

Another flash of irritation came from him.

“Is that really why you came here? To ask what name I want to be called?” He questions shortly, blue eyes darting up to glare at you before turning back to his work.

“No, no, not really, but it’s still important in its own right.”

A huff leaves the older man. “Harry is fine.”

“Okay, good, right…” you hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to properly phrase your thoughts.

The silence doesn’t suit Harry, however.

“Anything else?” he prompts impatiently.

“Yeah, um…” you fidget in place for a moment. “Look, I can’t read minds, that’s never been my power. So, I don’t know why you’re feeling the things that you’re feeling. But I feel so much anger and loss in you, motivating you forward, that I just wanted to offer…”

A derisive snort leaves the scientist. “Wanted to offer, what, a shoulder to cry on? You thought you’d come in here and we’d be best friends, that I’d tell you everything?”

You manage a small smile, which seems to catch the angry man off guard. “No, actually, I expected an outburst almost exactly like this.”

Whether he’s noticed or not, Harry’s stopped working entirely by this point, instead just staring at you warily.

“And I fully realize that just because I don’t distrust you, doesn’t mean you trust me in return,” you continue. “I just wanted you to know that…I feel you. I can feel that you’re hurting. So, if there ever is something I can do for you, Harry, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

You leave him be at that moment, not wanting to push the man too far. What you don’t realize, as you leave the older man behind, is that he’s less focused on your offer, and more on what you revealed to him in it.

You trust him.

It took some time before Harry revealed to you what was wrong, but eventually, he did.

Everything regarding his daughter being taken by Zoom was shared over a late-night Big Belly Burger run after a meta-attack.

And everything he revealed found a way to affect you. Your soul pained at his anguish over being unable to protect Jesse. Your heart warmed at his determination to do anything in his power to save her. And your respect for him grew after watching his clear conflict between wishing to do anything to save her, and his not wanting to betray the team to help Zoom.

You were silent after his confessions, processing everything that he told you, processing the affection that seemed to bloom from you during it.

Your silence lasted so long, however, that Harry began to grow nervous. Patience did not seem to be a virtue of his.

“Are you going to tell the team?”

You meet his eyes, the blue once again holding nothing but wariness.

“No. It’s not my story to tell. I’ll tell you what I will do, though.”

Harry nods slowly, waiting for you to continue.

You measure your words carefully. “I’m going to do everything in my power to help you get her back, and to take down Zoom. You’re approaching those two goals as separate entities, but I see them as one in the same. You have my word, Harrison, we’re going to save your daughter. And if we can’t accomplish it my way, with the team, then it’s important to me that you know I’ll hold no judgement if you do betray us for her sake. Because she’s going to come first, and not one of us can blame a man for wanting to protect his kid.”

It was a genuine shock when Harry actively reached out to grab your hand, squeezing it for a moment before walking away. After all his expressing to Cisco that he didn’t want to be touched, you hadn’t expected him to initiate physical contact.

What might’ve shocked you more, had you bothered to parse his emotions in that moment, would be the hints of affection blending into the waves of gratitude and desperation.

After that moment, some tension between yourself and Harry had seemed to melt. He would speak to you in a couple of sentences as opposed to the odd short word or grunt. You would bring him food and coffee to keep him going on his hunt for his daughter. While you had never felt like a core element of Team Flash, not being a genius nor an outstanding fighter, providing the emotional support that you did for Harry as well as acting as a bridge between him and the rest of the team on occasion had left you feeling accomplished in a way you couldn’t not describe.

But you found yourself beginning to curse the very thing you thought you had power over.

Pesky feelings.

Because even with a murderous speedster on the loose, and his own daughter being kidnapped, you found yourself falling hard for the Earth-2 scientist.

And as a result, you began to avoid him if you could.

You’d still help when he needed it, but your late nights in his lab as moral support had begun to wane, and any Harry found it to just be you and him remaining at S.T.A.R. Labs, he found you’d quickly make an excuse to leave.

You also swore to avoid reading his feelings if you could – you knew, now that you felt this way, that you’d be parsing every single one of his emotional swings to determine if he felt remotely the same way. And you couldn’t do that, to yourself, or to him. So, you kept away.

Harry noticed, however, and decided couldn’t avoid him forever.

He corned you one night, in a twist of events. As Cisco packed up to leave for the night, you quickly began to follow his lead, but a hand on your arm and a gruff request that you stay behind a few moments was difficult for you to get out of without any excuse.

Cisco left without you; apologies apparent in his eyes as Harry held you back. You felt oddly like you had been called to the principal’s office.

When the coast was clear, Harry turned to you, arms crossed and frustration clear on his face.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

The words caused heat to flush in your cheeks, and you began to stutter out meaningless words, flustered by being caught.

He held up a hand, stopping you immediately.

“There’s no arguing it, you have been. I just want to know why.”

“Harry, I-“

“You don’t trust me anymore, is that it?”

Your frantic stuttering stops short at that, which he seems to take as confirmation.

“Of course it is,” he goes on, a hand coming up to run through his already messy hair. “Doesn’t take a genius to figure it out. I created Zoom, and all his little minions. I’m willing to help Zoom to get my daughter back, even if that means destroying your Earth as well as my own.”

Amidst Harry’s self-deprecated ramblings, you feel the familiar flickers of a nearby person’s feelings – his feelings.

You never figured out if it was frustration at his accusations, desperation to finally have an answer, or pure curiosity in what feelings could be emitting so strongly off of the scientist, but you broke your promise to yourself and tuned in past his words, into something deeper.

You felt the familiar rage, the familiar self-hatred and desperation. But stronger than that came waves of betrayal, of hurt, of disappointment, and stranger still of…affection? Longing?

Harry’s ramblings continued.

“I mean, you’d have to be insane to trust someone like me, even crazier to still want to help me after all this time - “

He’s cut off when you surge forward, hands coming up to cup his cheeks and pull him downwards to meet you. Your lips meet his mid-sentence, cutting him off as you try to convey every ounce of conflict within you.

At your actions, Harry flounders. You can feel the confusion coming off him in waves, his genius brain unable to comprehend what was happening.

As soon as you started kissing him, however, you pull away, trying not to take too much glee from the flash of disappointment that flared from the older man.

Stepping back, the pair of you pause, assessing where to go in the conversation.

“So, uh,” Harry’s hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck. “You, ah…I mean…”

“I wasn’t going to tell you,” you blurted out, turning away to look anywhere but him. “With Jesse gone and Zoom on the loose I…I never wanted to push anything on you. Fuck knows you have enough going on. But you are wonderful and in all your time here I just…couldn’t not start falling in love with you. So, I have to stay away from you, Harry, I have to unless I’m helping you find Jesse, because unless my brain is one hundred percent focused on finding her, then all I do is get distracted by you.”

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but you interrupt.

“No, don’t say anything now, let me talk. We’re going to find Jesse, I promise. you. And then, if you want to, we can talk about this. Like I said, I wasn’t going to say anything or do anything until then, and the only reason I did so today was to prove to you that I trust you. I believe in you.”

You whirl around at that, leaving the Cortex with Harry in it, yet to be recovered. But as you turn the corner to make your exit, you pause for a moment and feel once again for the emotions around you.

Conflict, like you had expected, exactly the thing you wanted to avoid. That ever-present rage and hate. A dash of confusion. But there, amidst it, you felt the smallest spark of something. Relief? No, it felt different from that.

Victory, maybe.

You collect yourself, still a bit thrown by your sudden move, and leave the lab for the day.

You and Harrison had managed to recover somewhat easily from the events that transpired. Work between the pair of you was completed efficiently, and he still spoke his few gruff sentences to you every day, and so you had figured he didn’t completely hate you.

And then came the day that Jesse returned.

When the team returned from their trek to Earth-2, emotions were utterly haywire.

Barry’s conflict and determination, along with sadness after exiting Earth-2. Caitlin’s despair at losing Jay. Cisco’s fear of Killer Frost. Residual fear, fury, and fatigue stemming from Zoom’s existence.

But there, in all the darkness, was the pure ball of joy and relief coming from Harrison Wells.

Jesse was safe.

You were sitting in Cisco’s lab when you heard footsteps behind you. You didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was, based purely on the waves of relief washing over you.

“Where’s Ramon?” the gruff voice came.

You glanced up to see the scientist standing there, gun still slung over his shoulder, hair still a mess. You felt a wave of affection and joy come off you as you looked at him but bit it down, attempting not to express how thrilled you were that he came back safe from Zoom’s lair.

"Cisco’s with Caitlin. Figured she shouldn’t be alone after Jay…”

Harry nodded, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

You push lightly. “Are you okay? After whatever happened –“

“I don’t think any of us should talk about Earth-2.”

You pause.

“Oh. Okay.”

Harry waves a hand, backpedalling. “Not just with you, I mean – I just think it’s safer if we don’t talk about anyone’s doppelgangers or what might have happened. We don’t need anyone here starting to define themselves by who their counterparts are on a completely different universe.”

“You mean like how yours was a psychotic killer here?” you offer slyly.

The corner of Harry’s mouth quirks up at your understanding. “Precisely.”

“Makes sense to me.” You went to turn away, but you were stopped by a hand on your arm. Turning back, you see Harrison had lurched forward, the hand not holding the gun as far as he could away from you grasping on to your arm tightly.

“Just because I don’t want to talk about Earth-2 doesn’t mean I don’t want to…um…talk.” Harry clears his throat awkwardly.

“Talk?” you prompt.

He’s silent for a moment, floundering, and his pause allows his words to sink into you properly.

“Oh, you mean…talk, talk?” you ask, remembering your frantic confession.

“Yes, I,” he sighs, determined to look anywhere but in your eyes. “Look, I need to get Jesse settled, and everything needs to calm down. But…I won’t keep you waiting for much longer.”

“You haven’t kept me waiting –“

You’re stopped short when, in a twist of events, Harry leans forward and places a quick, gentle peck on your lips.

It’s over faster than it started, so fast you could hardly process that it happened, but it did.

And when Harry walks away, you’re left standing with warm cheeks and a silly grin, with nothing but the reassurance that the man of your affections might someday be willing to return them.

[angellissy]

Hey :) I’ve never requested anything before so I’m sorry if i do it wrong hahah

But could I request something where instead of ward faking his death it’s rafe who has to do it and none of the pouges know about your relationship until it’s you crying in the dock instead of Sarah. And when you and the piggies go on the “rescue” mission to get Sarah off of the boat you see rafe and eventually end up staying with him and leaving your friends

I’m sorry if this is really long xx thank you for taking the time to read my request

R E A C H I N G  F O R  T H E  S U R F A C E

SEASON TWO SPOILERS!

rafe Cameron x Reader

warnings: angst with a big a, canon rafe (maybe a bit softer), toxic relationship, rafe playing the victim card, death and talks of suicide.

a/n: I feel like it is of importance that I tell you all that I have done everything in my power not to romanticize the rafe cameron character and if I have then please kindly let me know because sometimes it can be hard. However I still need to say that I am writing through the eyes of the “reader” who very much still cares for this boy, which also means that the way the reader deals with things might not have been your way. If any more warnings should be included in the beginning, feel free to let me know. I hope you enjoy this fic which I am actually very proud of. A big thanks to @snkkat​ who is my proof reading buddy. Also thanks for sending in the request, I LOVED writing it! <3

They say that when you die your life flashes before your eyes, but how about when you watch someone else die? For as you watched him die, the life and moments the two of you had shared flashed before your eyes like a string of reminders of a life and love lost. It felt as if there was no air for you to breathe, you weren’t even sure how long it had been since you managed to take a full breath. Your mind was running in circles, trying to grasp what had just occurred, replaying the scene over and over again until you were not even sure what reality you were in. With a hammering heart and a split soul, you were kneeling on the dock, just minutes after watching your first love take his own life. You could not even remember how you had gotten out here in the first place, you just wished that you would have stayed behind as all your friends rushed toward a disaster in waiting. Perhaps that would have spared you some of the heartbreak, spared you from hearing him scream that he loved you one last time, spared you from seeing his boat go up in flames. But no, you were sure that for as long as you lived, you would see that blazing inferno whenever you closed your eyes.

There were arms around you, an attempt to soothe your shaking body, it only made you feel more trapped in a memory you would never escape. Those arms lifted you up and suddenly you were walking, mixed in all the anger and sadness there was a surprise that your body was even able to function. It felt as if you were outside of your body watching everything occur, you watched as Kiara and JJ helped you sit down on a sofa and as they draped a blanket over your shoulders. You watched it unfold, but you couldn’t feel it and there was no way that you would be able to respond to their worried questions. Instead, you were stuck in a mind that replayed everything Rafe had ever said or done to you as if that somehow could manifest him back to life. That stuck-up boy with the golden hair had been your first boyfriend, complicated as the relationship may have been, it had been the first time you ever experienced something close to love. Just days ago you had stood before him, tears in your eyes and heart in your throat as you called the relationship off. For a very long time, he had not been the boy you fell for, but rather a ghost of who he once was. Where he had once been sweet and tender with you, there had only been cold stares and words sharp enough to cut through ice. You were not oblivious to the fact that he struggled with issues you could never comprehend, but you refused to be an accomplice in his undoing. Time after time you had tried to be the person he could cling to when the world sat heavily upon his shoulders, but you soon realized that love and affection could not solve all problems. Oh, and you had loved him so much that you would have done anything for him to smile at you the way he had when he uttered those big three words for the first time. He had watched you with eyes that held so much adoration that you thought that they would never dim, that they would shine brighter for each time his eyes found yours. But eventually, they had dulled, and so you had realized that you would not sacrifice yourself no matter how much you cared for him. It did not matter that you had called things off with him or that you had decided to leave him in order to save yourself, for the knowledge that he was actually gone made it feel like someone was clawing at your heart and trying to rip it apart. It felt like no time in the world would be able to heal the pain in your chest or dry the tears falling from your eyes.

Time was indeed a funny thing, how seconds turned into minutes and how then those minutes became hours. Hours that you spent reminiscing over a life you thought you had given up before it was lost forever. You clung to the memories of him as if they were the lifebuoy keeping an anchor from pulling you down in a sea made up of your own sorrow. You knew that you were staying in your own made-up memories of a relationship with more bad times than good, but a part of you felt that you could not grieve the person he had become. For he had been vile and horrid, and if you acknowledged that, you would feel guilty for the sadness overwhelming you. So yes, you stayed in your made-up reality and wept for the boy that could have been. As hours turned into days, your friends made every effort to comfort you and try to get you out of the room that had become your place of mourning. Their tries aggravated you, for they did not understand the feelings rushing through your body at such speed it made you lightheaded. Each one of them had hated Rafe Cameron with at least one bone in their body and you knew how some of them had looked the day he died as if they were content that he was finally gone. Relieved that he could no longer plague them with taunts and threats that might have become reality was it not for his passing. You might have understood this, had it not been for the grief and guilt plaguing every bone in your body.

As days turned into weeks, you eventually came to appreciate their efforts to help you. It was like your vision was starting to clear and you could finally start trying to live your life again, and the first step to doing that was always to surround yourself with people that made you roar with laughter. Their ventures to try and find the Cross of Santo Domingo, were helpful, to say the least. Those adventures were as distracting as they were terrifying since the outcome was never given. Your mixed friend group of pogues and kooks had actually found that damn cross as well. Who would have thought that a bunch of high school kids would be able to find a historic relic? The answer would have been no one, and that is why you don’t underestimate kids with no limits. The cross had been in your grasp until a greedy and manipulative Ward Cameron came along and grabbed it. Ever since that particular happening, things started going south fast and it all ended up with Sarah being kidnapped by her own guardians. It also ended up with the rest of you stowed away like cargo on the ship she was on. While John B and Pope carried out their plan to find Sarah and the famous cross, you, JJ, and Kie sweated from every pore as you waited to hear from them. You had zoned out, staring mindlessly into one of the walls of the container, in the background you could hear your two friends talk about their dreams for the future. Something about going on several surfing trips at various destinations with each other, and that part made your heart ache. Sure, after everything he had done, a future with Rafe had not been one of your dreams. Still, as you listened to your friends talk, you could only remember a time where he had been everything you wanted in life. You pressed your palms upon your face as if you somehow could force every memory of him to remain in that little part of your brain where you were hoping they would become forgotten. A loud clank dragged you out of your thoughts and you looked up just in time to see Pope and John B climb in through that small window opening, followed by a woman you had never ever seen. Shortly after that, problems started to arise and soon all of you were scrambling out of the container in hopes of not being detected by the workers on the boat. They were in obvious search of all of you, which made you sweat even more than you had done inside the container. All of you received different plans on how to tackle the situation, yours was to act as a lookout for John B as he searched for Sarah.

You followed him down to what you could only assume was the boiler room since steam was thick in the air and you took your place by the door as he ventured further down. His desperate cries for Sarah echoed through the room and you dearly wished for a response to be heard, but there was nothing except the sound of his shoes against the floor. Thump, thump, thump and then utter silence until John B utters a name that made it feel as if the floor was pulled away from under your feet.

“Rafe.”

One of your hands finds the doorframe, a poor attempt to steady yourself as you try to figure out if this is a trick played by your grieving mind. You take a few breaths and as the silence is once again interrupted by two raised voices, you follow John B’s path down into the room. The heart in your chest is beating so hard that it feels like you are going to throw up, and it only gets worse the nearer you come. At first, you only see your friend, but then you look past him

and

your

heart

stops.

Rafe Cameron had died in front of your very eyes, so either the gods were playing a nasty cruel joke or you had lost the battle with your mind. You shut your eyes just to open them again, and no matter how many times you did it, he still remained. What happened next was a bit peculiar to you, for weeks you had drowned in grief where sadness was the constant emotion, but as you looked him in the eye and saw that he was very much alive, rage and anger crushed into you with the force of a thousand waves. You stepped toward him, only for an arm to shoot out to stop you, and John B added to his gesture by saying “Don’t”. Laughter bubbled in your throat, for who was he to tell you what you could or could not say to your “dead” ex-boyfriend who seemed to never stop causing you grief.

“Find Sarah.” John B hesitated for a few moments before following your unspoken order to leave you and Rafe alone. It wasn’t surprising considering that his worry for Sarah would always overpower anything else. Once again you looked into Rafe’s blue eyes, remembering a time when you used to stare in them for so long you would see specks of green and grey. Had you searched for those colors now, you would probably have found them. However, you were trying to decipher whatever feeling that was shining in them, was it anger? No, his other features were too soft for that and the hand holding his weapon had gone slack as he watched you. Maybe it was relief? No that was not it either, for why would he be relieved to see you? You were not the one who had died and left the other behind. You stepped even closer to him, the simmering anger inside of your veins made your hands shake and he looked at them briefly as if he wanted to take them in his. Your hands clenched into fists and you watched as his shoulders dropped the tiniest bit, and suddenly you knew exactly what was shining in his eyes.

Love, and sadness. Your heart started to speed up again, and you knew that once you opened your mouth, the anger and grief that had become part of you, would tumble out in words that you would never be able to take back. But he had done something much worse, so he would listen, you would make sure of it. Your lips parted slightly and he must have seen it for his words came first.

“I- fuck I am sorry okay? But I had to do it, you wouldn’t understand but I had to do it, it was the best for everyone.” As he says this you can’t help the sound that slips through your lips, it was supposed to be a laugh but it sounds more like a sob. His eyes flicker between you and everything else in the room as if there was anything in here that could save him for this conversation. You move your hands toward your chest and his eyes watch as you press them hard against your chest, against the heart that won’t stop breaking.

“Best for everyone?” Your voice is the combination of a whisper and a ragged breath “Did you have my best interest in mind when you let me believe you had blown yourself up?” He winces and makes an attempt to say something but you hold up a hand to stop him. “Did it ever occur to you how your little stunt would affect the one person who still, despite everything, loved you?” This time, your voice has started to rise towards something like a scream, and how could you not scream when there is so much sadness inside of you that it felt like just looking at him would turn your body into a pool of water.

“You broke up with me, so don’t start acting like a victim where you aren’t one.” His features are starting to morph into those he carries when anger overcomes him, but you will not back away from this. Your hands are in your hair, pulling at it as if that would help you make sense of this situation. “You broke my heart long before I broke yours.” You can’t help the way your voice breaks or the tears that start falling from your eyes.“You needed and still need help and until you receive that help, you are prone to hurt anyone in your vicinity.” Now it is his turn to drag his hands through his hair and his breaths come faster and faster until you realize that he is starting to hyperventilate. He sinks to the floor and you follow, not sure how to help when it feels like his state is mirroring your own. With cautious movements, you place your hands on his shoulders, and the shaking of his body sends trembles throughout yours. For a while nothing happens, you just sit there with your hands on his body and watch him fall apart. Perhaps you should have been glad that he was suffering, after everything he had done to you he deserved it. But you couldn’t feel anything other than anguish and as a sob escaped his body every restraint you had kept on yourself broke and you hugged him towards your chest. You could never save him, but he clung to you as if you had the power to undo every wrong he had ever done. After a while, he looks up at your tear-streaked face and one of his hands reaches up to cup it. You want to look away because you can see everything in those eyes of his, every regret and every wish he has ever had. His forehead leans towards you and you feel his hot breath against your skin. As you breathe in the scent of cologne and feel his skin against yours, you feel overwhelmed by the fact that he is actually here. You notice that his lips part and for a second you are scared that he is going to kiss you, but he must know that there is a limit to your patience with him so he just whispers words with the promise of what could have been. “I wanted to be good for you.” A small smile takes place on your lips and you close your eyes as you try to restrain the well of emotions inside of you. “I know Rafe, I know.” He breathes out a little, almost as if he is relieved that you are aware that he tried in a world and with a mind constantly working against him. You knew, but you also knew that there was someone else out there for you. Someone who would love you in a way that Rafe would never be able to, in a way that would not send the two of you to the bottom of the ocean. Whoever was out there would make you swim. For so long you had wanted to believe that Rafe was the one, despite all his flaws you would have given anything for him to be your future. It was a relief to know that you could and deserved to have more. But you also knew that you needed to do something before that could happen.

“I will stay-.” Before you could even finish your sentence he whipped his head up to look at you with such hope you never wanted to continue talking. You swallowed hard and forced yourself to go on. “I will stay with you just to make sure you receive the help you need.” His whole body deflated and you had to bite your lip in order not to cry again. Eventually, he nodded and you closed your eyes in relief. You knew that this had to be the right move, no one else would listen to him or make sure he got help, so you needed to be the one to did. Just enough so that you finally could start swimming towards the surface.

[yeojaa]

( DEVIL IN A NEW SUIT. )

Money’s something that makes the world go around.  There’s absolutely nothing wrong with securing the bag.  You don’t shame anyone for doing what they need to do.  

That is, until you come face to face with the poor guy that’s being suckered out of both his heart and cash.  You simply can’t let it go on.

pairing.  jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  idiots to lovers.  fluff, angst, smut.  the holy trifecta, babies!  explicit, obviously.  

tags / warnings.  mentions of infidelity, kook being adorable and sad, reader being a bit of a tactless butthole, a satin playsuit (very nsfw), kook does a 180, smut in the form of: a slight oral fixation, too much spit, overstimulation, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (pls don’t be irresponsible).

wc.  12.2k of nonsense.  pure nonsense, i tells ya. 

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​ did what she always does aka read through this and made me a better writer and @yeoldontknow​ dealt with my big dumbass and let me cry about my pea brain to her.  i love you both sm!!!  ✨💜

author note.  the long-awaited fic is here!!  i really hope you enjoy it.  if you do, please maybe leave a comment or something?  i swung back and forth between loving and hating this so it’d really, really mean a lot.  anyway, thanks as always for reading and i adore you!  stay safe and happy and healthy!

He’s a sucker.  That’s what you think of him, despite the fact you’ve never met him.  It’d be impossible not to, given what you’ve heard. 

His girlfriend - or something - is in every other week, flashing his black card like she has something to prove.  Sometimes, she’s by herself;  often, she’s with another gaggle of girls that fawn all over themselves and shriek a little too loudly for your taste.  They’re vapid, snooty in a way that makes you cringe every time they step into the boutique.  Still, you’re nice because this is your job and you have to be.  You can’t exactly tell a paying customer to get lost - even if you think it at least six times each visit. 

“He has no idea.”  It’s always the same thing, a story that pulls at your heartstrings yet has you scoffing in equal parts.  “I told him we were doing a girls’ trip but Hyunjin’s going to meet me on his way back and we’re spending the week at the Ritz.”

How can he possibly be this dumb, you wonder.  How can’t he see past the pretty pink lipstick and perfectly coiffed blonde hair?  It isn’t even that nice of a colour job - too icy and reminiscent of Malibu Barbie. 

(She’d bragged about it once - how she’d gotten an appointment at one of the most coveted salons in the city, spending hours in the stylist’s chair to get this “perfect shade”.  Her words, not yours.)

You figure he must be some lonely schmuck, some poor old sap who can’t possibly get what he’s looking for anywhere else.  Maybe he had some weird spoiling kink - if so, where was your man like that - or he just wanted companionship and found it in the arms of girls who paid him any sort of attention.  Truthfully, you thought a lot of things about him.  Kind of had to, given how often his girlfriend was in, rambling about her exploits and snickering behind his back.

You’d never expected him to be like this.

Jeon Jungkook shows up on a Sunday afternoon, shortly after lunch and with the dopiest smile on his face. 

Your colleague notices him first, nudging you to attention because you, unlike her, actually do productive things while you’re at work like go through layaways and make sure items aren’t sitting in the back gathering dust.

“He’s cute,”  she very poorly whispers, voice carrying because it always does.  She’s a younger girl - maybe a few years your junior, who’d gotten her job through pure nepotism - but she’s sweet enough.  Zero tact, though.  Never notices when she’s being just a little too forceful with her sales but her sweet smile and full rack seem to keep her from getting into any trouble.  You consider her a vaguely annoying sister, someone you love even when you don’t necessarily like her.

You glance up from the iPad balanced in your hands, disinterested.  “Who?”

There’s an older couple striding past the entrance, hand-in-hand with three Hermes bags.  (God, what awful taste.)  There’s another couple standing at the mouth of the Louis Vuitton boutique, bickering about which belt will best match the boyfriend’s tux best.  (The answer is neither, because those belts do not belong with a classic black tux.)

“Him.”

Yejin all but points him out, jerking her chin in his direction.  You don’t know how you hadn’t really clocked him in the first place.  Maybe because he’s so unassuming that you’d just brushed over him, noting his outfit before moving on.  When you look at him - really look at him - you can’t look away.

You think he’s handsome in that off-kilter kind of way, too-big teeth and too-wide eyes.  He’s terribly innocent looking, despite the fact that he’s wearing a gleaming gold Rolex and sleek black boots you recognise from Prada’s 2019 RTW.  Everything he wears is tailored, fitting him to the point you wonder who his seamstress  is.  

But then he speaks, and it’s not the suave, sultry voice you’d expect.  It’s featherlight and almost shy, bashful in its delivery.  

“I’m here to pick up a bag for my girlfriend?”  He upspeaks.  It’s stupidly adorable.

Bless her soul, Yejin throws a glance in your direction first.  A silent ‘yours or mine?’ that’s answered when you step forward, blindingly bright customer service smile in full effect.  “What’s the item and the name it’s under?”  You keep in mind he’s said girlfriend very clearly, even as you can’t help but trail your stare over his shoulders, the dimple that digs itself into his cheek when he speaks again.

“Oh, it’s under mine.  Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook.” 

You’re floored.  This is Jeon Jungkook?  This specimen draped in leather and fine Japanese silk is the poor idiot wrapped around Barbie’s finger?  You’ve got to be kidding.

You wonder whether the surprise is evident on your face.  It must be, given how quickly Yejin interrupts, piping up in that saccharine sweet voice of hers.  “I’ll grab it!  The Box bag in cloud, right?”

Jungkook can only nod dumbly.  He has no idea what he’s there to pick up - only that he needs to because his girlfriend is away on a trip with her two best female friends.  He tells you as much, chuckling at his own ignorance.  It’d be cute if it weren’t so sad, his eyes twinkling like the jewels set in your ears.  There’s so much love in his eyes it’s frankly sickening.  

It comes before you can help it, snapping off your tongue - an oil spill ready to drag him to the depths of hell.

“Oh - you’re Kiko’s boyfriend?  I thought you’d left for Hong Kong already.”  Your head tilts - the picture of innocence as you continue to spew things you shouldn’t, staining the innocence of his expression with each word that drops off.  “She said she was leaving on Friday.”  Even while you’re tearing this poor man’s life apart, you’re racking your brain for the off-handed comments she’d made.  “She kept going on and on about how she was so excited to be staying at the Ritz.”

It’s almost like you gain some sick sort of satisfaction in watching his face fall.  You’ve never seen someone crumble so quickly, every ounce of affection swept up and spat out in the time it takes you to take a solid, proper breath.  

You do feel bad.  Not for saying it, but for being the person to do this.  For hurting this stranger.  (At least he knew?)

“I think you have me mistaken for someone else.”  Gone is the sunny friendliness, the blissful geniality.  He’s very much uncertain, bunny teeth digging into the full swell of his bottom lip.  He’s pigeon-toed and round-shouldered, thick brows drawn neatly over his stare as he focuses on some indeterminate point somewhere by his feet. 

If Yejin were on the floor with you, she’d tell you to knock it off.  Chastise you for getting involved in something you had no business being in.  (She’d be right, but you’ve always been an advocate for tough love.)  As it stands, she’s still in the back finding that stupid girl’s bag and you’re here, shaking your head, weakening Jungkook’s resolve with the edge of your teeth.  “No, she definitely said she was going away with her boyfriend.  Did you maybe give us the wrong name?”

Maybe if he weren’t so upset, he’d be more offended by the insinuation he’s stupid.  Instead, he only falters further, head mimicking yours.  Poor guy.

“I—I think there’s been a mistake.”

Yeah, you dating that gold-digger, you want to say.  Instead, you meet his stare like you haven’t just dug a thousand holes in his foundation.  “Oh, maybe.  I’m sorry.”  The apology is honest, even if the meaning behind it isn’t.  That’s a thing, right?  Apologising to make someone feel better, even when you don’t necessarily agree with it?  

God, you’re an altruist. 

“It’s fine.”  When he stutters, adorable lisp coming out to play, you know it’s not.  You applaud him for his brave face, even if it’s very poorly offered - a makeshift mask you think you could tear off with just another well-aimed word.  (You won’t.)

“Here it is!”  Yejin’s back, bouncing out from behind the counter with the giant white bag in her hands.  If she notices the atmosphere, she says nothing.  You remind yourself to tell her good job once Jungkook leaves - and you know he’ll leave the moment he’s got those silk handles in his hand.  He looks about ready to cry - or ready to fight, you’re not sure.

Once the purchase is passed over, he nods his head furiously and you swear you see a tear go flying.  You don’t have time to ask before he’s hoofing it out of the store.  

He doesn’t even notice he’s left his wallet on the counter.

By the time you snatch it up and round the corner, he’s nowhere to be found.  Probably because running in stilettos is next to impossible and he’s gotten an embarrassed head start.  Well then.

“I guess we’ll have to call him,”  you hum, turning the Prada bi-fold over and over in your hands.  It’s practically brand new, stuffed with large bills, his driver’s license, and few credit cards, including a Hyundai black card.  The same one on file that his girlfriend - maybe soon-to-be ex-girlfriend? - uses shamelessly.

Yejin’s watching you carefully, silently.  You’re counting down how long it’ll be until she asks - because you can see the curiosity swimming in her eyes, practically bulging her cheeks with the effort of keeping her questions caged behind her teeth.

Finally, after a good three minutes, she’s at your side, bony point of her chin digging a grave into your shoulder.  It’s probably not the most appropriate thing but she’s never much been one for decorum.  (You either, but still.) 

“So… what was that about?”

You don’t bother to turn when you speak, back to running through order details and matching them with customers.  “What?”

“You know— that!”  She waves her wrist in a circle, gesturing toward the space Jungkook had occupied not five minutes ago.  “He ran out of here like he was scared for his life.”

“Scared of the truth,”  you correct. 

You hadn’t thought it was possible for her to get more pale - she’s already fine porcelain, perpetually slathered in sunscreen - but she somehow does, balking at your response.  There it is. 

“What?”  There’s a reproachful edge to her words, an uncertainty that tells more than the single syllable. 

“What?”  It’s mimicry and a challenge all in one, meeting her stare from the corner of your periphery.  You can read every emotion that runs through her expression:  shock, displeasure, confusion.  

She retreats a step, bottom lip caught between her teeth.  (She really does remind you of your little sister.)  “So, you told him?”

You shrug, a noncommittal gesture that disrupts the curtain of silk that falls over your shoulder.  You hadn’t laid it out for him but surely he had an idea now.  There was no way he didn’t. 

“I pointed out a few conflicting facts.  That’s all.”  You’re not ashamed about what you’ve done.  You’d want to know if you were him.  Consider it an act of goodwill. 

The silence that meets your ears isn’t surprising but you don’t pay it any further mind.  What’s done is done.  Now he knows, or something close to it.  The chips would simply fall where they were meant to. 

You have to admit - you’re rooting for him. 

Whatever Yejin’s thinking, she keeps it to herself for the rest of the shift.  She knows better than to berate you about something like this, not that she would anyway.  Obnoxious as she can be, you have an understanding.  It strengthens your not-quite-close-friends-but-more-than-colleagues relationship. 

It’s only at the end of your shift that she brings it up again, drifting over to you as you complete your cash count for the evening. 

She holds Jungkook’s wallet in her hand, mouth pursed thoughtfully as she taps it against the edge of the counter.  “You have to call him.”

You almost lose your count, finishing with a pinched expression.  “Whoever works tomorrow morning can call him.”  You’re not brushing off the responsibility - you really could care less - but simply passing it along to the next person.  Sensible. 

As it turns out, you’re the person who works the next morning, called in because another associate has come down with a cold.  

You’re two lattes deep when you remember the wallet, tucked neatly behind the counter with a yellow sticky note posted to the front.  You suppose it’s your responsibility now.  You know if Yejin comes in tomorrow and sees it, she’ll give you her childish brand of hell. 

The line rings twice before it picks up, that oddly familiar voice crackling through the speaker.  “Hello?”

“Jungkook?”  

There’s a beat of silence followed by a careful confirmation. “Yes, that’s me?”  Upspeaking again. How cute. 

“I’m calling from the CELINE boutique.”  You can practically imagine the look on his face, eyes as wide as saucers as he recalls the awful-to-him encounter.  “You left your wallet here and I wanted to make sure you got it back.”

“O-oh, uh—“  It’s like encountering a baby bunny - or deer or something equally adorable and vulnerable.  “Thanks.  I didn’t even notice.  Um, I can come pick it up today?”  There’s another pause, the sound of fingers over a screen, and then he’s back.  “Is that okay?”

Leave it to him to have lost his wallet and yet be worried about putting someone else out.  He truly was a sucker. 

“That’s fine.  We’re open until six tonight.”  

“I’ll be there before dinner.”  As if realizing how vague that is, he continues, words running headlong into each other like he can’t get them out fast enough.  “Before six, I mean.  Um, is around five-thirty okay?” 

You want to tell him to just come whenever, that it really doesn’t matter to you, but that probably isn’t going to help the situation.  Instead, you hum a quiet sound of confirmation.  “Of course.  We’ll see you then.” 

He hangs up immediately. 

The second time you meet Jeon Jungkook, he’s just as endearing as the last.  It’s actually surprising, if you’re being honest.  You’d thought he’d be resentful or mean or any other emotion better fitting someone whose entire world had turned upside-down.

As it stands, he’s just the right-side of anxious, a hundred little sparks of uncertainty flaring beneath his skin and lighting him up in neon.  You can see him from a mile away he’s lit up so bright, seemingly uncomfortable in his own skin.

Your heart aches for him - and then it skips, almost trips over its own two feet when he wanders into the store with his hands dug deep into the pocket of his pants.

How he looks tonight is nothing like how he’d looked yesterday.  Somehow, you like it more.  The undone head-to-toe Balenciaga, the unruly curl of his dark hair.  It’s effortlessly chic - though you think it might have something to do with the fact that he’s just an attractive person.  (Good-looking people could get away with anything - even god-awful fashion faux pas.)

At the sight of you, he seems to further lose steam, eyes widening to such an extent you briefly worry for him.  Surely they’ll fall out of their sockets one day.  

“O-oh.  It’s you.”  The moment the words come, he’s blushing the colour of your red-soled shoes, horrified.  “I m-mean, just—”  He takes a deep breath, finds his footing and tries again.  “You’re the girl that helped me yesterday.”  Spoken like you, the exact girl who helped him yesterday, wouldn’t remember that fact yourself.  

“That’s right,”  you say evenly, expression neutral.  It’s almost as if that surprises him more - as if he’d expected you to shy away from the knowledge.  

The two of you stare at each other for longer than is strictly speaking necessary.  Well, you stare at him and he kind of bounces his eyes around the room.  You know he can’t be that interested in the croc stamp Belt bag behind your head or the selection of small leather goods in the glass case.  

He’s so awkward.

(You did kind of ruin his day though, so you can’t blame him.)

“So, um, my wallet?”  He’s made barely any headway, still lingering awkwardly by the front of the store.  You can’t help your smile - it’s more of a smirk - as you raise the item in question.  

“Right here.”

Jungkook glances from it to your face, then back again.  He makes the same trip twice more.  “Can I have it?”  To your surprise, he’s taken two whole steps toward you, brow furrowed.  He’s still terribly soft, rounded edges and innocent eyes, but he’s making progress.  Good job, you think.

“Of course.”  You mirror him, moving out from behind the counter.  Somehow, that’s not the right move, because his features are breaking and rearranging, big bunny teeth worrying a hole straight through his bottom lip.  You’d think he’d be more confident, more demanding, more… everything.  (You quite like that he isn’t - a complete anomaly - but you also imagine it’s also to his detriment.  Too much honey, not enough vinegar.)

This time, he closes the distance with three long strides.  It hadn’t escaped you how tall he was, the length of his gait - after all, you’d tried to run after him - but you’re still a little surprised when he’s in front of you, not a foot away, arm extended.  Palm out, he asks again, all while refusing eye contact.  “May I have it, please?” 

You hand it over with a soft laugh, pressing the grained leather into his hand.  You expect him to retreat immediately and he does - but then he turns and his expression is inscrutable.  Is he going to say thank you?  Berate you for what you’d done yesterday?

Neither, it seems.  “Why did you do it?”  There’s no anger, just an abiding sadness that laces his words, turns them the saddest shade of blue.

“Do it?”  You know what he means.  You ask anyway.

“Why did you tell me?”  Jungkook’s doing that thing again, alternating between biting his tongue and chewing his cheek as he stares at you.  You can practically see the melancholy rolling off him;  it shines dark on the depths of his irises, how his fist trembles just barely at his side.  For all his good looks and leisurely charm, you can see the effort it takes to hold himself together now.

Guilt ascends, starts somewhere deep in your stomach and turns stomach acid to butterflies.  It creeps higher and higher over your spine, locking each vertebrae until you’re immobile, unable to tear your gaze from his.  “I thought you deserved to know.”

“But why?” 

“What do you mean?”  

It’s almost comical, how both your expressions descend into bewilderment - like looking into a fun house mirror.  He’s trying to wrap his mind around your actions and you’re just trying to make sense of his confusion.  

You anticipate a response - can see it tittering on the tip of his tongue - but he seems to think better of it, shaking his head.  It dislodges a wayward curl from behind his ear, silver twinkling with the movement.  

“Thank you” is all he offers before speed-walking away.

You don’t expect to see Jeon Jungkook for a third time.  

He’s waiting for you when you end your shift on Thursday, standing somewhere between the two boutiques, loitering like some kind of gremlin.  (Except he’s dressed exceptionally well, slick black jeans and a Balenciaga tee shirt that rivals the cost of your shoes.  Of course he’d get away with hanging out in the store without being told off.)

“Excuse me.”  For once, he doesn’t sutter.  The lisp doesn’t present itself, either.  Was this the same Jungkook?  You’re not sure until you meet his stare - or try, his own skipping away the moment you make contact.

There he is.

“Yes, Jungkook?”  He flinches, as if he isn’t expecting you to know or say his name.  How can someone so big, so broad across the shoulders with a face that belongs on billboards, look like such a terrified rabbit?  It makes no sense to you.

“Can we talk?”  The stare he levels you with is unfair, too sweet and coaxing for you to even consider saying no.  You’ll still mess with him a bit though.

“We are talking.”

He sputters at that, hacks out a cough that makes you snicker openly.  It’s just so easy with him, like taking candy from a baby.  

“I mean like— talk talk.”  The set of his jaw gives away the whisper of frustration, the fleeting touch of exasperation that doesn’t allow itself to live anywhere else.  His eyes are still soft, round and glossy beneath the fluorescent storelight.  

“Sure, we can talk talk.”  

“Did you, um, want to grab dinner?”

You don’t mean to mock him (at least, not really) but he just makes everything so easy. You hope he doesn’t take it the wrong way.  “Are you asking me on a date?”  

“W-what?  No!”  Despite the immediacy of his response - the look of utter shock that cracks the careful facade - he’s burning bright, cheeks aflame with colour that licks up and over his ears.  “I just— I thought you’d want to talk somewhere else—”

“I’m kidding.  Let’s go.”

You move first, stepping past him and onto the elevator without a backwards glance.  He scampers after you, trails like a lost puppy in the wake of your shadow.  Even while you stand in the corner, waiting for the lift to meet the main floor, he keeps a careful distance, hands jammed into the pockets of his jeans.  

“So, what do you want to talk about?”  It seems you have to take the initiative, throwing him a curious stare as the floor number ticks down.  His gaze is trained on neon digits, unmoving.  You repeat yourself, glancing up at him, half-tempted to nudge him out of his reverie.  It’s almost like talking to a really hot brick wall.  “Jungkook?”

He tears out of his thoughts like a wayward bullet, head swivelling wildly.  “Huh?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  

“Um—”  He hesitates, not as if he doesn’t know the answer, but rather that he’s hesitant to speak it into existence.  There’s a tidal wave in the depth of his stare, a cresting wave that looks on the edge of breaking.  “—m-me?”

Brows furrow then amusement spills out.  “You want to talk about… you?”  

“That sounds bad.”  The shape of his grow prominent over his bottom lip, his mouth pulling and pursing with whatever maelstrom exists inside that pretty skull of his.  

“It’s fine.  We’ll talk at dinner.”  

He nods.  You think it means thank you.

Sitting across from each other in the Michelin-starred restaurant - a sought after spot that takes reservations weeks in advance - it’s easy to imagine Jungkook is just another guy.  Another bachelor with too much money and not enough sense, eager to sink his teeth into his next victim.  

It’s hilarious how far that is from the truth.

“What did you want to eat?”  He’s speaking into the pages of the leatherbound menu, half his face hidden.  Whether it’s a defense mechanism or just how he woos pretty girls, you’re not sure.  (You have a feeling it’s the former.)

“Whatever.”  Everything here is incredible.  You really don’t mind.

Jungkook’s face falls, folds in on itself like wet paper and you sigh a sound that further breaks apart the pillars keeping his composure in place.  His right cheek is hollowed, interior being shredded by enamel.  You take pity on him then, flipping open the menu with a great flourish. 

When the waitress - a lovely little thing whose gaze lingers on your dining partner for too long to just be polite - comes to take your order, you rattle off your usual order, doubling certain selections.  Soft-spoken as he might be, you have a feeling the size of his stomach makes up for all the mumbling and half-hearted glances.

“So?”  You level him with a stare over the rim of your glass, lavender and lemonade bursting across your tongue.  

He echoes you, wide-eyed and Bambi-like and stupidly cute.  “So?”  

“What did you want to talk about?”  If you’d had a worse day, if you were a lesser person, you might be irritated by having to repeat yourself so often.  As it stands, you’re only curious, your inquisitive nature outweighing your naturally short temper. 

“Oh.”  Poor boy looks like he’s been asked an impossible question, like what’s the meaning of life or the secret to eternal youth.  He fumbles with the edge of his sleeve, turns the plaid over and over in his fingers as if it were a puzzle.  You stare at him the whole time, unflinching, unrelenting.  He’d asked you here so you damn well expect an answer.

You’re about ready to repeat yourself - fourth time’s the charm? - when he finally finds his voice.

“I wanted to say thank you.”

It’s not the answer you’d expected.  It whacks you in the face, smacking your usual confidence out of place and shooting your carefully threaded eyebrows into your hairline.  “What?” 

He’s terribly uncomfortable, unhappy with being on the spot.  You watch the flicker of emotions through his face, the ones that creep into the delicate skin beneath his eyes, the wobble of his bottom lip.  Try as he might, he can’t keep the light from his eyes - twinkling stars that bloom like newly minted stars.

“Thank you.”  It’s just that much harder when he repeats himself, edges he builds with his bare hands and a clearing of his throat.

You’re silent for a long while - long enough for the first few plates to be set before you.  You gather up shredded radish and perfectly charred beef with your chopsticks, chewing thoughtfully on the morsel.  Jungkook doesn’t move - doesn’t even reach for his chopsticks - and simply stares at you.  You might find it off-putting if it were anyone but him.

You get through half the bowl of green beans, well on your way to finishing it, when he finally begins eating, deftly transferring little bites to his bowl.

The only sound is crunching - king oyster mushroom tempura, ice from your cocktail - and you’re pleasantly surprised to find it’s not uncomfortable.  A little different, sure, but altogether nice.  Like dining with an old friend.

You finally answer when half the plates are gone, another three laid out in their wake.  You’re careful not to speak with your mouth open - you notice Jungkook doesn’t either - and take a long sip of your water.  “You’re welcome, I guess.”  

Something tells you you’re always surprising him - whether intentionally or not.  His eyebrows have a tendency to shoot up, making him look even more shocked than he normally does.  (Seriously, how big are his eyes?)  You find that funny but don’t comment on it, opting to pop a silken piece of black cod into your mouth.  Your stare never falters, trained on his face as you chew thoughtfully.

“What?”  He’s had enough of your quiet observation, apples of his cheeks reminiscent of the tree in your parents’ backyard.  

“What?”  You parrot back, shameless, dark eyes twinkling at him.

“Y-you’re staring at me.”  

“You’re sitting in front of me.”

The line of his mouth hardens then, tongue rolling against his cheek in a gesture that stands out.  It’s the first glimpse of something rude, something not doe-eyed and innocent.  Oh?

“You don’t have to stare.”  Said with a speared piece of sashimi, the end of his chopsticks assaulting the poor piece of bluefin tuna like it has personally offended him.  

You reach for the same place, knock ornate wood against his, and quirk a brow when he meets your stare.  “Does it bother you, Mr. Jeon?”  The inflection is drawn out, almost mocking, only softened by the smile you offer.  

“That’s not my name.”  The bite disappears past his teeth.  You expect him to continue three chews later but he only goes for another, filling his plate and then his mouth.

“Sorry— Jungkook.  Does my staring bother you?”

It feels a little like playing with fire - holding your hand too close to a flickering flame, curious what it’ll do.  Juvenile in a way but enticing in another.  You’ve never met anyone quite like Jeon Jungkook.

“It’s rude,”  he reasons, glossy eyes meeting yours for perhaps the fifth time that evening.

“Maybe I’m just rude.”

He shakes his head then - dislodges untamed strands from behind his silver-lined ears - and sets his chopsticks down.  (Perfectly matched up, propped against the provided rest.)  “You’re not.”

You can’t keep the surprise away, the emotion threading through your brows to tie them into a little knot of consternation.  He says it so readily, as if he knows you and this isn’t one of a handful of very short, very unexpected conversations.  He’s not even looking away, meeting your stare with a confidence that surprises you.  

It lasts for all of five more seconds before he clears his throat and sips at his tea.  Anything to busy his hands, you think.

“You don’t know that,”  you finally return, after what seems like too long.

“I do.”  He nods - almost to himself - and continues, matter-of-fact.  “You care about people.  You’re… hard around the edges but you don’t mean to hurt anyone.  You want to do what’s right.  Sometimes it means you have to do things that aren’t easy.”

For once, you’re at a loss for words.  Really and truly silenced, unable to articulate anything that might beat back the kindness he’s offering.  

How the tables have turned.

He likes waffles with chocolate syrup rather than honey.  He doesn’t like whipped cream or citrus-flavoured desserts.  He has a tailor he’s gone to since he was a child, the same elderly woman he sometimes calls halmoni because she’s watched him grow up.  He decorates his apartment with the most random things:  limited edition KAWs figurines and the guitars he still hasn’t had the most practice with, one of a kind paintings from the gallery one of his best friends curates.  He buys the most expensive bottles of wine at any given restaurant not because his palate is so evolved it matters, but because it’s what he’s been taught to do.

He’s been in four serious relationships in his twenty-five years.  All of them have ended poorly, though his latest with Malibu Barbie is the first where he’d been cheated on.  (Somehow, you doubt that but you don’t voice this disbelief.)  He tends to lean towards long-term relationships with women who baby him (your words, not his).  He scoffs when you call him a serial monogamist, insists he isn’t even as you list out all the facts pointing otherwise.

“I just… don’t like wasting my time,”  he insists from behind his coffee cup.  

“You mean you don’t like the potential to be hurt.”  

Jungkook blinks at you then, Bambi eyes so big and bright you almost want to laugh.  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”  He seems confused - as if his reasoning is solid, irrefutable. 

“High risk, high reward, Jungkookie.”  It’s something your father had taught you years ago, the crazy old sap.  It’s probably why he’s had three divorces since you were seven years old, but you suppose it’s worked out for him now.  He’s been happily married for the last ten years - the longest relationship he’s ever had.  Youngin is good for him, though.  You like her - even if you sometimes wish she weren’t young enough to be your older sister and not his wife.

“You say that a lot.”

“I mean it when I say it.”

He’s quiet then, shoving a corner of his croissant past his lips.  When he speaks - starts to, anyway - his mouth is still full and you level him with a look that silences him until all traces of the pastry are gone.  “Girls are scary.”

You laugh.  Cackle, really.  You can’t help it.  He says it with a pout, the expression so utterly at odds with the offensively revealing shirt he wears, the smooth unblemished skin of his chest almost too much for such a quiet afternoon.  He glares at you across the table, shoves another piece of the flaky golden treat into his mouth, and waits for you to speak.  He knows you’re going to give him a piece of your mind because you always do, rebuffing 99% of the things he says.  (Sometimes for fun, often with good intentions.)

“Heights are scary.  Death is scary.  Leaving your wallet at home when you’re low on gas is scary—”

“Don’t you have Apple Pa—”

“Don’t interrupt.”  He clamps his lips shut, folding his arms across his chest.  From anyone else, it’d be a defensive gesture;  from him, it’s patient.  “Girls aren’t scary.  Having real feelings for people is scary, but that doesn’t mean you should just stay with people who don’t deserve you.” 

“Not all of us have cheater-sniffing noses.”  

You suppose he’s right but the fact still remains that he’s too nice for his own good.  Too trusting, too lenient, too blind to all the red flags.  Like he’s living life in greyscale. 

“Well, that’s what you have me for.”

The look Jungkook gives you then is incredulous, screwing his pretty face up as if he’s about to sneeze.  Instead, he laughs.  “I’m not hopeless.”

“Oh, but you are.”  You’re adamant, insistent.  He’s more comfortable with you now - sometimes teases you in a way you’d never have expected weeks ago - but he’s still so soft.  An absolute marshmallow dressed in designer duds, a heart of gold wrapped up in a bubble gum package.  

You want to protect him, teach him to fly.  Be his wingwoman until he’s soaring the skies on his own.  

You know it’s not his pride that keeps him from saying yes.  He doesn’t have an abundance of that, far too gracious to ever deny help when he really needs it.  He’s just shy, doesn’t know what he wants until it’s staring him right in the face.  

“Fine,”  he agrees after you’ve stared at him for too long.  It’s one of his weaknesses - his inability to handle attention when it’s laser-focused.  It makes him sweat, prompts his nervous habit of chewing at his bottom lip, long fingers picking at the peach fuzz on his cheeks.

“You won’t regret it.”

Jeon Jungkook has gone on six dates over the last ten days.  You know, because you’ve helped him pick out outfits for each of them, seated at the edge of his bed with your knees folded and a bag of white cheddar popcorn in your grubby little paws.

It’s not that he isn’t stylish - you both know he is - but there’s a certain finesse to dressing for dates, to knowing the likes and dislikes of your potential partner and playing to those.  

He, to no one's surprise, does not have this finesse.  If it were up to him, he’d wear his favourite clothes every day, different jeans and joggers in medium-wash denim and impossibly soft cotton.  He’d swap his Balenciaga separates in and out and stick with the finely tailored Gucci suit he calls his lucky ticket (ew).  He’d live in those stupid two-toned sneakers and barely do his hair, allowing it to become a powder puff reminiscent of old Hollywood movies.

The girls would probably still love it.  (It’s easy to love him.)

“What do you think?”  It’s low-cut black, relaxed in the shoulders and flattering in the torso.  It holds him just right, hugging the muscle that threads across his shoulders like armour, coils around his upper arms and makes his tattoos stand in stark relief where the sleeves end, mid-forearm. 

It looks good— but then again, a lot of things look good on him.  He wants great.

You answer honestly, because that’s what you do and that’s what he has you there for.  To knock him down when his (admittedly small) ego gets a little too big, remind him of his hubris like the summer sun upon his candle wax wings.  “Not bad…”

You don’t even need to finish the thought for him to be tugging the shirt over his head, back flexed, ink-strewn fingers gripping the hem.  

Not for the first time, you’re reminded of just how unfair life is. 

How had Jungkook - bona fide dork, certifiable shy guy - been gifted one of the best bodies in human existence?  (You wish you were joking.)  It was utterly absurd, a complete waste on someone who’d only learnt to utilise his good looks in the last five months you’d known him.  

“This one?”  He’s grabbing another hanger, all but thrusting it into your face.  Medium-weight cashmere.  Probably too hot for a night like tonight but you’ve seen it on him before and it hugs him like a lover, displaying his best assets (titties) and drawing attention to the narrow shape of his waist.  It’s the equivalent of a little black dress.

“Look at you go,”  you tease, mouth full of mirth and popcorn kernels.  “Throw that Juun.J trench you have overtop and you’ll be set.”

Jungkook nods sagely, as if your word is law.  You suppose it is.

“Thanks, ____,.”  He says it in that sweet way of his, eyes lost to the weight of his gratitude.  

Your response is a shrug.  “Bring me back some dessert and we’ll be even.”  You don’t know where he’s going tonight but you figure it’s one of the many restaurants you’d recommended earlier in the week when he’d started lining up his various dates.  You know there’ll be something good on the menu.  

He promises he will as he slides the turtleneck on, tucking it into the dark trousers he’d picked up days ago, and redoes the slim black Rag & Bone belt around his waist.  You have to admit - you’ve done another great job of styling him.  Simple yet painstakingly attractive, playing at all the little bits of Jungkook’s best qualities without outlining them in bright red ink.  Understated but elegant, effortless yet seriously hot.  

Maybe you should quit your day job and become the female Hitch.  That was a viable plan, right?

You’re mulling it over when you realise your walking Ken doll is making toward his bedroom door, wallet clasped in one hand and phone in the other.  “Hey!  You’re leaving already?”  It’s polite surprise that colours your words, stare drawn to the screen of your iPhone.  It’s only 6 PM and the reservation isn’t for another hour.

There’s a sheepish look creeping over his features, painting itself in delicate strokes that you spy past the line of his smile, how the skin crinkles around his eyes.  For a moment, he’s the shy Jungkook you’d met in your store and not the one that now bleeds careful confidence, filling his little black book (read: phone contacts) with names as easily as he breathes.  “I was, uh, going to stop and get f-flowers.”  A silver-lined hand scrubs across his nape, dislodges the carefully styled waves he’s settled for.

Flowers, huh?  Well, that’s certainly something new.  Good for him, you think. 

“Jeon Jungkook, going all out.”  It’s heavy on the teasing, playful mockery lending a warmth to your words.  “She’s special.”

Which you’d figured, given he was seeing her.  Repeats were rare for him now that he’d learned how to weed out the bad seeds, held his hand a little closer to his heart (at least, sometimes).  Since he’d started dating again, this would be the first time he’d be going on a second date.  It’s a big deal. 

“Yeah—“  Nervousness sparks across his face, lights up his stare like the stars in the night sky.  “I guess she is.”

You smile fondly, like a proud mother.  “Go get ‘em, tiger.”  

“I will,”  he promises, looking so giddy it makes your heart swell ten sizes.  

You don’t even think anything of it as you follow him out of his room, bag of popcorn neatly rolled under your arm and your socks slid back into place.  It’s only when he levels you with a strange stare, pauses in the shrugging on of his coat, that you return his look.  “What?”

“Where are you going?”

“Leaving?”  

“Why?”

Wasn’t that the million dollar question?  

You don’t normally leave, usually waiting here at home for him until he returns to give you a rundown of his date (and the promised appetizer/dessert/whatever).  It feels somehow wrong to stay, though, as if you’re taking up space that doesn’t belong to you.  He’s going on a second date, after all.  Soon enough, he won’t need your help picking out clothes or deciding on a restaurant.  You won’t get to curl up on your usual corner of his sectional, wrapped up in the obnoxiously soft blanket you’d convinced him to buy one night while online shopping.

But it’s fine.  Totally, one hundred and ten percent fine.  The two of you are friends.  You’d always expected - anticipated, hoped - this day would come.  Baby boy was growing up. 

“Y’know.”  You answer a second too late and he’s still wearing that odd expression, handsome face flooded with something that looks like disappointment.  It flickers in the bits of his stare you can make out past his fringe, partially concealed by the dark silk that you know feels as soft as it looks.

“I know?”  He never tries to read your mind - knows it’s utterly useless.  

You wiggle your hand dismissively.  “Second date and all that.”  

Jungkook giggles - the same deceptively sweet sound he always makes - and finishes tugging his jacket on.  It fits him so well it should be illegal, falling to his knees and ending just shy of the intricate laces of his boots.  “Just stick around.  I’ll drive you home when I get back.”

It’s something he always does - his way of saying thank you for putting up with all of his first date jitters, his outfit changes, his worrying over how to first approach a girl on Tinder - so you don’t doubt him.  “Fine.  I’ll stay.”

He beams, caught halfway out the door.  “Tell me to break a leg.”

“Go break her back,”  you retort to the sound of his laughter.

You’re almost asleep when your phone starts going off, the vibrations jolting you awake.  It rattles across the glass table, won’t shut the hell up until you’re slamming your hand atop it, glaring at the screen as it lights up with notifications.

It’s almost 2 AM and they’re from Jungkook.  This can only mean one thing.

from jeon jungkook:  Hey. from jeon jungkook:  I’m really sorry but I won’t be home tonight. from jeon jungkook:  If you want to stay over, I can drive you back in the morning. from jeon jungkook:  Please don’t be mad.

Leave it to him to apologise for getting his dick wet - to feel bad about having a successful second date.  It makes you laugh as you stare down at the texts, tap a quick response you know will have his heart racing.  (Even after months of friendship, it’s hard not to tease him just a little bit.)

to jeon jungkook:  i officially hate you

The typing notification gives him away immediately, but the moment you do the same, he stops.  Of course.  He hates confrontation - would rather leap off a cliff-face than deal with negative emotions.  (He’d told you that once, over a night of beer and fried tteok.)

to jeon jungkook:  it’s fine!  have fun! to jeon jungkook:  turn her world upside down 😏

He doesn’t answer after that but the read receipt pops up.  Good, you think.  About time he finds someone nice.  You wonder what she’ll be like when you meet her.  

Jungkook’s third date comes with another third - you.

He drags you along to dinner, insisting there’s nothing at all weird about the fact.  He has to repeat it at least four times during the drive there, head nodding like a plastic bobblehead as he weaves in and out of traffic. 

“I want you to meet her,”  he mumbles, like that makes it better.  As if bringing a friend along to a date with that reasoning means it’s totally acceptable and not on the list of Hard No’s When Dating.

“Don’t you think that’s kind of weird?”  He’s too focused on changing lanes to answer you, signalling before seamlessly drifting over.  (He’s an impressively responsible driver, but that’s unsurprising.)  You repeat yourself.

“It’s not… weird.”  But you have a feeling that he knows how odd the request is.  Knows and doesn’t care, unfortunately.  “She wants to meet you too.”

(When had Jungkook turned into this person who argued with you?)

You somehow highly doubt that.  No girl in her right mind would leap at the chance to meet her potential beau’s wingwoman.  It’s something reserved for official status, when the foundation is set.  Still, you play into his hand, level him with a stare he should recognise.  It’s the one you throw his way any time he’s too nice, gives a mile when he shouldn’t even offer an inch.  (It doesn’t come as often anymore, but it still makes appearances once in a while.)  

“What does she even know about me?”

“That we’re friends.”  His vague response speaks volumes.  The look changes - grows into a glare that has him furtively peeking at you from the corner of his periphery.  When he speaks, it feels like a dead giveaway.  “That I really value your opinion.”

You groan, a noise so loud it rattles around in the car and interrupts the ballad playing through the speakers.

“She’s trying to figure out if I’m competition or not!”  Of course.  It’s obvious.  She wants to know what she’s getting into it before things get too serious, determine if her Prince Charming is really all that.  (He is.)  “I’m not coming to dinner.”  

“You’re already in the car,”  he reasons.  

You note he doesn’t deny your first statement, mouth rounding into a pout that should crush your resolve.  Instead, it drives you mad, irritation bubbling in your throat.

“I just won’t go in.”

“____,.”  When he says it like that, it’s hard to deny him.  Jungkook might not utilise his charms often but when he does, it’s lethal.  Undeniable with those dumb Bambi eyes of his.

“No.”

“____,,”  he repeats, almost pleading.  You can’t look at him.  You won’t.  The moment you do, you’ll be sucked into the swirling vortex that makes up his stare - a million pretty little lights caught in the brown of his iris, so many possibilities you’d lose yourself trying to explore them all.

You last a whole ten seconds before his staring becomes too much, those round eyes tracking you in the rearview mirror until you’re relenting, softening in the way that only he can cause. 

“Fine.”  You hate how it sounds rolling off your tongue, terse and a little pissed off.  You’re not actually mad.  Just worried.  You’ve seen situations like this play out - not that you’ve been in this position before - but female friends and potential girlfriends just don’t go hand-in-hand.  It takes a very special kind of person to facilitate a meeting this early and you are not that person.  You’re ragged edges, uneven temperament, distrust that you can’t help.

Jungkook knows that.  Should, anyway.  You’ve grown close over the last nearly half a year.  

When he mumbles a quiet sorry, turns to rest his chin against his knuckles as he drives, you know he means it.  He’d never put you in this position if it didn’t mean a lot to him - if his own happiness wasn’t somehow also on the line.  (Truthfully, it’s your fault.  All that self-love encouragement was coming back to bite you in the ass.)

You grumble an obligatory acceptance as the streetlights fly by.  You’ve got a reputation to uphold. 

“You’re paying for my dinner.”

“Of course.”

How many times have you pictured this same situation, watched it unfold on your television screen as the protagonist gasps wildly, hand at their throat?  How many times have you laughed at the exchange, snickering into your palm as the romantic interest makes some wild declaration of love and wins the protagonist’s heart?

Answer:  you’ve lost count.

Still, it doesn’t prepare you to be thrust beneath the spotlight, half-dreaming and terribly confused.  

“What’re you doing here?”  At any other time, it might be as reproachful as you want, full of disapproval and sleepiness.  Here and now, it’s slurred speech and the lines of your pillow dug into the softness of your cheek, lashes dusted with sleep and breath freshly minted.

Jungkook’s oddly surprised, considering he’s appeared unannounced at your doorstep at the crack of dawn (not really).  “C-can I come in?”

You don’t budge.  It’s not because you’re about to say no, but because you’re still really tired.  So tired you stare at him for a moment too long, zoning out as you drink in his appearance.  He’s wearing the clothes from last night - the same animal-print silk shirt that hangs obscenely low and reveals too much skin.  You recognise it because you’d picked it out for his date.  

(The one where he was supposed to ask Jiwon to be his girlfriend, you fail to note.)  

You repeat yourself around a yawn, ignoring the way your vowels crash into each other and barely make it to the light of day.  “What’re you doing, Jungkookie?”

“Please let me in,”  the doe-eyed prince at your door mumbles, gaze bouncing somewhere beyond your shoulder, over your face, to the wayward strands that’re the result of sleeping too well.  Everywhere but your eyes.

“Fine,”  you huff, stepping back to allow him over the threshold.  You don’t miss the way he smells - his signature cologne and something else.  If you had to guess, it’s her perfume.  It’s distinctly floral, drawing you into a garden of roses.  You don’t know if you like it.

Without a second glance, you’re shuffling away from him, dragging your slippered feet into the kitchen.  

You move on autopilot, spooning coffee grounds into the Chemex filter.  You don’t bother asking whether your surprise guest wants any - assume he does, because the fiend somehow lives on caffeine - and settle against the counter as you wait for your kettle to whistle.

You’re still so tired you feel like you might fall asleep standing up but you think you do a good enough job of levelling Jungkook with a solid stare.  “So?”

“W-what?”  

It’s been so long since you’ve last heard his stutter that it surprises you, recentres your attention from your own exhaustion and has you frowning.  Something’s happened.  Must have.  There’s no other explanation for it - for how he looks at you, so uncertain like all those months ago when you’d smashed his glass house to pieces.

“What’s going on?”  You’re demanding, full to the brim with concern as you round on him.  He flinches away as if your words have burnt him, leaning into the stainless steel side of your fridge.  

(Silly Jungkook - that won’t protect you.)

“What do you mean?”

The early hour has, luckily, dampened your usual aggression.  He’s stalling, you can tell.  You hate when he does this.  You tell him as much, glowering at him as he tries to shrink his nearly six foot frame into something small.  “You’ve showed up at my house unannounced.  What do you mean ‘what do I mean’?”

He looks as if he’s on the brink of repeating himself, biting it back behind his neat white teeth when your expression grows darker, more frustrated.

It’s impossible to stay dressed in red, lethargy swathing you up like a cocoon and softening your edges.  You sigh heavily - perhaps a little overdramatically - and go about completing your coffee ritual.  Patience works best with Jungkook, you’ve learned.  (Though, he sorely tests your own sometimes.)

With a steaming mug in your hand and the other passed over to him, you gesture toward your living room.

He nods once - a small up and down of his head.  

“So.”  You try again, softer this time, warmed by the heat that permeates ceramic and settles your sleep-ravaged nerves.  You’re seated cross-legged on your couch, facing him with your back pressed to the arm rest.  He’s half-turned to you, coffee cup slotted between his thighs.  Feet turned in, mouth wobbling with the intensity of how hard he’s chewing into his bottom lip.

“I couldn’t do it.”  The words rush out too fast, tumble into each other in such a way you have to take a second to comprehend what he’s said.  Couldn’t do… it?

You stare at each other for a long while, you trying to understand and him refusing to meet your stare.  

When realisation dawns on you, you can only imagine how you look.  It must be terrifying by how Jungkook practically tries to crawl into the cushions of your couch, shoulders rising around his ears like a turtle.

“You didn’t ask her?”  It explodes out, a question that demands an answer. 

He’s staring past your head, unblinking.  You’d almost worry he was a robot if his voice weren’t so damned human, full of melancholy and rounded by his lisp.  “I c-couldn’t.  It was just…”  The shrug he offers is half-assed at best, not nearly good enough to excuse him.

“Just what?”  

“Just—”  There’s the wiggly hand gesture you do that he’s adopted, his ink-strewn hand waving through the air like a floppy chicken foot.  He thinks it’ll earn him a pass but your unrelenting glare indicates otherwise.  He deflates, hand falling back to his lap, clutching his mug like it's a makeshift security blanket.  “It didn’t feel right.”

What did that even mean?  Feel right?  

Love didn’t just appear, fully-formed and complete.  It took work and dedication and the understanding it could all come crashing down.  Didn’t he understand that?  Hadn’t you drilled that into his head?

You exhale through gritted teeth, push breath past enamel that acts like a solid steel gate.  

“Jungkook, it’s not going to just ‘feel right.’”  You’re air quoting, all tact thrown out the window.  “You like her, don’t you?”

You expect him to nod immediately.  He doesn’t. 

“Jungkook.”

“Yeah?” 

“You like her, right?”  

“I think so.”

You want to tear your own hair out.  Instead, you press the pads of your fingers into your temple - apply pressure in hopes of alleviating the tension that settles there.  “So, you like her.”  It feels a bit bad, condescending in a way;  you don’t mean it in any way but supportive.  You just want him to be happy.  “But you couldn’t ask her out because it didn’t feel right?”

“She’s not you.”  

He’s looking at you now, looks like he might have a heart attack if he does so any longer.  But he doesn’t tear his gaze away when you meet it, entire expression warped into something you don’t recognise.  Hope, maybe?  Fear?   

“What?”  You wish it were hard rather than feather light, almost lost to the cacophony in your head.

The hollow of his cheek is thrown into stark relief, the line of his jaw clenched tight.  He repeats himself even as you’re the one looking away, shaking your head as if that might will away the irksome answer.  (It won’t.)

“Don’t say things like that.”  

It’s hurt that flashes through his expression and strikes you right in the centre of your chest.  His face crumbles, brows knit together beneath his mop of shiny hair.  He looks so terribly sad - a kicked puppy, an abandoned deer.  Bambi, through and through.

“You asked why I didn’t do it,”  he reasons in a voice far more solid than he looks.

“I didn’t think you’d say something so ridiculous.”  It’s cruel.  “You’re making a bad choice.  You’re into this girl.  Don’t be dumb.”

His features rearrange, then so do his limbs, entire body lifting from his seat in jerky, disjointed movements.  “I’m not dumb.”  There’s a reproachful quality to his words, a distaste he doesn’t bother to mask.  It’s not something you’ve ever faced, surprising you enough to draw your eyes to his face.  

He doesn’t look like the Jungkook you know.  

When he leaves - sets his cup in the sink and storms out the way he’d come before you have time to stop him - you wonder if you ever knew him at all.

“Okay.  Spill.”

Yejin’s tired of your abrasiveness, tired of having her head bitten off every time she tries to approach you with a question.  You can’t blame her.  You’ve felt like shit the last week, sleep-deprived and generally pissed off.  

All because of a doe-eyed idiot.  

“What?”  It’s less snark, more sigh.  You’re counting down the minutes until you’re free, until you can curl back up in your bed and try to sleep like you’ve done the last four days.  

“What’s going on with you?”  

“Nothing.”  

“Bullshit,”  she hums, trailing after you as you move behind the counter.  “You’ve been in a bad mood all week.  I’ve never seen you this upset like, ever.”  She’s right, of course.  You’ve always been very careful to keep business separate, pushing the customer service agenda no matter what.  “Did something happen?”  

You grit your teeth.  An expletive careens off your tongue when you slam the tip of your finger within the drawer you’d just shut.

“____,”  she tries again, concerned.  

“Nothing happened.”

“See, I don’t believe that because like, look at you!”  She gesticulates wildly, adorned wrists clinking loudly.  “You look like hell—”

“Thanks.”

“—and you’re being clumsy and like, I think I know you well enough.  So just tell me?”

You hate that she’s right.  It doesn’t mean you’ll relent, too caught up in your own strange brand of strength to unload.  (Maybe it’d be helpful.  Probably.  But you’ve never found comfort in other people.  At least, not like this.)

“Yejin.”  Her name stops her in her tracks, hurried and insistent as you pull your coat on.  “It’s fine.  Really.”  You’re swallowing your pride - practically choking on it - as you offer what you hope is a reassuring smile.  “I just need to get some sleep.”  And figure out what the hell to do about Jungkook, but that’s a can of worms you refuse to open and certainly not here.

Maybe at home, over a glass of wine, fueled by liquid courage.  

The bottle of Côtes du Rhône has aided you more than you’d hoped, offered an armour that slinks over your shoulders and drives your fingers to action.  It’s prompted something - started the ball rolling.

(Idly, you think that might not have been a very good idea, but it’s too late to care now.)

“You’re here.”  You being him and him being Jeon Jungkook, hair damp and imposing frame draped in an oversized sweater.  He looks terribly uncomfortable standing in your doorway - more so than he had days ago - hands shoved into the kangaroo pouch of his hoodie, dumb sneakers pigeon-toed as if he’s ready to take flight.

“Y-you asked,”  he mutters, refusing to meet your stare.  At least, you think he’s refusing.  It’s a little hard to focus when there’s this fine film turning everything hazy, the bitter taste of wine heavy on your tongue.  

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

He looks at you like you’re crazy then, though he never quite meets your eyes.  It’s a smart tactic - level you with a look then immediately bounce it away.  It has you coming back for more, eager to refocus his fretful gaze until it’s locked with your own.

“Will you come in?”  You sidestep, give him enough space that he can enter without feeling suffocated.  He still hesitates, takes a second too long in deciding.  “I won’t bite.”

You don’t miss the better promise that comes under his breath.

“So.”  This feels oddly familiar, him backed into the corner of your couch again while you settle across from him.  He hums a noise but offers nothing further.  

This is how it’ll be then.  Fine.  If he wants to be this way.

“You like me.”

He sputters - doesn’t mean to, by how big his eyes go.  He hadn’t expected it to come barreling out of your mouth.  “I—  I don’t—  I didn’t say that.” 

If it were anyone but him, you’d take his reticence as rudeness.  

“Tell me why.”

The poor boy blinks, stares at you full on now.  Can’t look away, locked in the intensity of your stare.  

“W-what?”

“Tell me.”  You sip carefully at the liquid in your glass, swirl it ‘round and ‘round.  “You said that girl wasn’t me but you haven’t made a case as to why that matters.  What have I got that she doesn’t?”  

“You’re serious?”  

“As a heart attack, Jungkookie.”

The brunet swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing with the motion.  You think he might say no, outright refuse.  You don’t expect him to start rattling things off like the list lives in his head, answers printed against the darks of his eyelids.  

“You’re funny.  You’re honest.  You speak your mind.”  You don’t mean to scoff but his reasons are so shallow - so easily found in other people.  He must read the doubt in your expression, pushing on to cut you off from doing the same to him.  “Y-you care about people even when you pretend like you don’t.  You’re just as scared of being hurt as I am.”  

For the first time in a long time - in years and years - you feel seen.  As if he’s pulled back the cover of your unpublished draft, memorised the redlines and notes in the margins.  

“I don’t—”

“You have this face you make when you’re proud of me.”  He’s turning his own fingers over in his lap, knuckles white from the strain of locking them together and undoing them again.  “When I do something you approve of or when I make you laugh.”  

There’s something thick in your throat.  

“You make me want to try.”  He clears his own, speaks so softly you have to strain to hear it.  “Y-you make things not so scary.”  

It grows heavier, harder to breathe as you stare at the man sitting across from you.  He’s focused wholly on his hands, too caught up in his words to help the way he plucks at his skin, fiddles with the silver chain that loops around his wrist.

“You know what I need, even before I know myself.  You make me laugh.”  He laughs, an almost choked sound that fizzles and rattles bashfully. “You look really, really good in your work skirt.”  You know the one he means - all black, pencil-fit.  Makes your legs look a mile long, despite the fact that they aren’t.  

You can’t help but join him, a little breathless, with a strange sensation behind your ribs.  Like sunshine on a cold day, filtering past the walls you’ve put up, streaming through the windows that’d replaced drywall when Jungkook had waltzed into your life with his fluffy hair and boyish laugh.

When you speak, you don’t even believe your own words.  They come of their own accord - a defense mechanism.  “I can’t.”

As if he knows - as if he’s got a polygraph going, Jungkook shakes his head, meets your eyes and holds you there with the intensity of his attention.  “Can’t or won’t?”

“I—”

“I’m not asking for the world here.  Just a chance.”  He’s got a peculiar look on his face.  “Don’t you think you owe it to me?”

“Excuse me?” 

All of a sudden, he’s close.  Closer than you’d expect, far closer than he should be.  There’s nothing beyond his expression, the way his eyes twinkle under the dimmed apartment lights as he stares you down.  The scent of his cologne is cloying now, the fading nectarine hint of his shampoo making your mouth water.  

“You kind of ruined my life.  I think this makes us fair.”

You sputter, gasp, make sounds that careen off your tongue and fill the air with nonsense.  You’d ruined his life?  (You’d made it better - made him see the light, you thought.)  You’re working to find your voice, ready to tear into him for this abrupt accusation.

Then he’s giggling, nose scrunched and delight filtering past his teeth.  

“I’m kidding.”  

It feels like whiplash.  You’ve created a monster.  

“But you do owe me, I think.  So why not?”

You only have yourself to blame when you say yes, conceding to his pretty eyes and sweet smile.

Dating Jungkook is easy - as effortless as breathing.  He’s a bona fide dreamboat plucked from your wildest dreams. 

He texts when he says he will and picks you up every night, stamping a kiss to your cheek the moment you’ve clocked out.  He holds your hand and refuses to let go, rubbing soothing circles over your wrist when you’re tired or stressed or annoyed.  He brings flowers to every date - insists on them even when you tell him they’re a waste of money.  He knows your coffee order, has learned the art of the pour over when he wakes up before you.  

You understand now, why he’d stayed with women who were terrible for him (to him).  If you were them, you wouldn’t have let him go either.  Would lock him up in an old tower like your own personal Rapunzel.

(You say that because you’ve been on a Disney movie binge.  He is, unsurprisingly, very into these sorts of things.)

“Open it,”  he pleads, pushing the luxurious pink box towards you.

You stare down at the lid, the Agent Provocateur label glaring back at you.  You can’t help how you laugh, sound bouncing around his bedroom.  “Are you trying to tell me something, Jungkookie?”

Your lover - not boyfriend, because you haven’t had the talk and it’s still new and you’ve never been this careful before - rolls his eyes, pushes the box closer with a huff.  It’s adorable.  

“Just open it.”

You finger the soft bow strapped across the top, play with the neatly cut ends.  You can feel the impatience radiating off Jungkook, feel those pretty doe eyes boring holes into the top of your head.  You take your time even more now, unravelling the ribbon with slow, measured twists of your wrist.  

Whatever you’d expected to find nestled among the tissue paper, this isn’t it.  

You’d imagined he’d be into something feminine, all pristine white lace and scalloped cups.  Something he could brush his cheek against, run his fingers over.  

Tucked within the box is something that doesn’t even earn the title of lingerie, a few flimsy straps bonded together.  Blush pink satin and dressed with buckles, you turn it over in your hands, trying to make sense of the way it all connects.  Surely there’s more to this.  Surely, darling innocent Jeon Jungkook doesn’t expect you to wear just this?

“Do you like it?”  You can sense the eagerness in his voice, that desire he has to please that seems to never go away.  

“What is it?”

“It’s a playsuit.”  

“A playsuit?”  You’re no stranger to experimenting in the bedroom but this— this looks like it’s meant to harness a dog in.  Would it even fit?  Soft as it is, it seems terribly restrictive, made for someone with model proportions and no body fat at all.

He nods, round eyes so bright, so hopeful, you can’t voice your concerns.  “Will you wear it?”

It fits you better than you’d expected.  Or at least, you think it does.  If Jungkook’s reaction was any indication, it’s heaven sent - the perfect gift wrapping for a present he’s been dying to claim. 

The buckles you’d studied earlier - that had taken you too long to strap together - dig into the tender flesh of your hips, the shape of his fingers imprinted along the metal.  He grips you so tight you think you might bruise, left with a reminder of his love for weeks.

“S-so wet,”  he groans, sound dropping into an almost whine as the swollen mushroom head of his cock brushes through your folds.  The satin of the playsuit has been long since tugged aside, stained with your arousal as it cuts into the softness of your thighs.  He repeats the motion once, twice, coats your clit in pre-cum that leaks out of the slit and adds another layer of slick.  “So ready for me, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

You nod dumbly, drool around the two fingers he’s got slotted against your cheek, ring finger pressed down over your tongue.  

“Use your words, gorgeous.”  As if you can, as if you’re not riding the high of your last orgasm and about to come apart beneath his playful teasing.

The palm of his hand meets your overstimulated clit with a sharp smack, the cold of his teeth bared against your neck.  He doesn’t like when you don’t answer - much prefers to make an effort even if it’s indiscernible.

“What did I say?”  

Something garbled comes, a plea as much as a sob.  Another hit lands, just shy of the pearl that throbs with need and pain, landing instead on the sensitive, already red skin of your inner thigh.  He soothes it this time around, massages your own wetness into the roses that bloom beneath his touch.

When he speaks again, it’s so utterly sweet, tender as can be.  The Jungkook you’ve known for months and not the devil in disguise.  

“You like this, don’t you?”  His kisses are searing, laced with reverence that feels at odds with the way he forces your gag reflex, taps his curved cock against your pussy.  “You like what I’m doing?”

“Y-yes,”  you cry, spit pooling past the sides of your mouth, dripping lewdly across your breasts.  The hand cradling your chin is all but drenched, dark ink thrown into stark relief by the way it slides over his skin.  Jungkook hums against your cheek, licks a fat stripe from shoulder to ear.  

“Good girl.”  Two fingers spread across over your heat, pointer and index sliding over your lips.  You’re spread obscenely - can see it in the mirror that rests against the far wall.  Can see how the head of his cock peeks between your thighs, runs the same path over and over with each languid, slow roll of his hips.  “Such a good girl for me.  My perfect girl.”

Your shoulders shake with the effort you put into nodding, throat clenching on reflex when the three fingers in your mouth flatten over your tongue, hold you steady in place.

“Pretty girl wants more, doesn’t she?  Wants me to fill her up?”

He’s teasing you, the bastard.  Dragging his aching erection against your cunt as you writhe against him, desperate.  It’s amusing to him - you can read the delight in the reflection, see it shining bright like a beacon when he pulls his hand away and recentres it across your chest.  Digits tease at the already pebbled buds, swollen and sensitive from how hard he’d sucked them into his mouth earlier.

“Say it.  Say you want me.”

You do, without hesitation, without fear.  You know he’ll catch you.  “I want you.”  

He sinks into you the same instant the words fall, holds you tight against him when your entire body begins buzzing and threatens to do the same.  Your walls feel like a vice grip around him, greedily sucking in his cock as he slams home, ruts into you like a wild animal.  

Strong as he is, he’s weak to the noises you make - the broken sobs that spill off your tongue and make up the prettiest sound he’s ever heard - and how you feel absolutely perfect, wet and warm.  The muscle in his thighs strain, pleasure vibrating up the notches of his spine, setting every nerve ending alight with its ascent.

“B-be mine,”  he returns, practically begging as he spreads you wide, making you take everything he has to offer.  Heart and soul and stupidly huge, perfect cock.

“I am.  I am.  I am,”  you chant, tears welling along your lash line.  They fall when his rhythm stutters, when the heat overwhelms and you’re coming for the third time that night, crying his name like it’s the only word you know.  

They continue to pour, carve trails down your reddened cheeks as you reach nirvana, wait for moment he’s right there with you.  It doesn’t take long - a few more punishing thrusts into your fluttering heat - and then he’s found his bliss, crying into the silk of your hair, spilling inside you. 

It doesn’t happen how you thought it would - a shy question poised over dinner, sealed with a sweet kiss on the way to the car - but it means just as much.  Breaks you apart as it rebuilds you, fills you up as it splits your seams.

You’re his and he’s always been yours. 

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle @shaybtsforever @we-found-wonderland-in-1989 @justanothergirlfromeurope @jalexad @bonnyskies @coffeeismylife28 @haeilove @purplespaceymermaid @sunsetsnsirens-blog @beingbeings​ @veronawrites​ @notmontae97​ @papillonsgf​ i’m really hoping i didn’t miss anyone e___e

[shegatsby]

Fire on Ice

Summary; Tom Hiddleston is a vicious mob boss who is looking for his father’s killer, his reputation is depending on it and he won’t give up until he finds that man, and you my sweet little Y/N is the weirdest and the best thing that happened to him all his life.

Genre; Romance, smut is here, mob, gangs, slow-burn,

Pairings; Tom Hiddleston x F!Reader

Words; 2.835K

Warnings; Oral sex, vaginal sex, wrap it before you tap it! SMUT! fingering. 

A/n; I’m a dirty slut but so are you my friend ;) Text me if i forgot to tag you. Sorry for any typos. Love you all. 

TAG LIST IS OPEN!

(gif isn’t mine)

Chapter Six

Tom out did himself with this, he found people inside to do it. Before he came to America, New York he heard that there is an old black woman who gives jazz concerts at her house on every Saturday, it was for free but donations were accepted and since the concert takes place at her house the audience numbers were limited but he got in. He always admired Harlem and its culture of jazz and he wanted to share it with his girlfriend. As you two were climbing the stairs to this woman’s apartment he was explaining the concert, ‘’ Every Sunday for more than a decade, rain or shine, with no vacations, a jazz concert has taken place in the parlor of Marjorie Eliot's home on what she calls the northern tip of Harlem. Her weekly free concerts in the living room of her apartment are legendary in Harlem and an institution for jazz lovers citywide.’’ The concert takes place between 3:30 PM and 6PM, he was so giddy and child like that you couldn’t help but smile. You loved jazz music but no one took you to a jazz concert before so you didn’t know what to wear and ended up wearing a yellow sundress and comfortable shoes, Tom also looked comfortable with his blue shirt and jeans. His hair was pushed back, he had black sunglasses, –he took them of when you guys entered the building- ‘’You said there were no tickets to pay?’’ climbing the stairs was tiring because there wasn’t any elevator in the building, ‘’Yes, it’s for free but donations are highly appreciated. I’m planning on writing a check.’’ He shortly explained guiding you to the brown door, his large hand was on the small of your back. Oh the things you wanted his hands to do to you.. ever since that passionate kiss your mind was in the gutter.

It was a small flat with colorful furniture, only 20 people were inside, it felt like you entered a friend’s house who promised to give you a show, so warm and welcoming. You smiled at everyone you met and talked, before the concert began a young man offered you drinks and you didn’t say no. Tom surprised you actually, you never thought that he would take you somewhere like this place, driving hours away from his penthouse etc. You noticed that he was silent usually and observing his environment which was a good thing but when he wasn’t looking at you or his focus was somewhere else, you saw a grim shadow in his ocean eyes, something wanted to come out but Tom was pushing it far behind. He still didn’t give a proper explanation about the phone call and the thing he said but for today you didn’t want to ruin the mood, he did something nice for you.

When the lady of the house came to give the concert you and Tom sat on the light green couch, you’re back was on his chest so you couldn’t see his face but his hand was playing with your soft hair, you were both relaxed on the comfortable couch.

This woman’s voice was divine, it made you experience your soul on a new level, it brought you to places… holy. Tom was enjoying himself too, ‘’Do you like it?’’ he whispered, ‘’I loved it.’’ You said and turned to give him a kiss, his lips met yours like a missing part of the puzzle, you could smell the ice cream you guys ate before coming here, you had to pull away before things got heated, you were in public. Tom kept playing with your hair, if you were not too caught up in the moment and that woman’s divine voice, you would have noticed Tom kissing your head or smelling your sweet shampoo.

After the marvelous show Tom didn’t forget to write a check, you were waiting for him outside of the building, it was 6:45 PM and the sun was setting slowly, printing the walls of the streets with the red and orange colors and you allowed yourself to breathe deeply, your eyes were shut and you sent a message to the universe, ‘’Thank you for today.’’ Lately you felt lucky, it wasn’t just because of Tom, you had a bestie who always backed you up, you got good tips from your job and you were saving money, things were looking up for you.. or were they?

Tom came with a smile on his lips, he put his glasses on, ‘’Tom, Thank you so much! It was an amazing concert.’’ You started to walk hand in hand, his car was a bit far away from the building, ‘’I hope I made things up for you love. Yes, the concert was perfectly splendid.’’ You were swaying your hands together as you were walking, you felt safe and loved. His presence filled you with joy. ‘’Wait.’’ He said, he pulled his hand away and looked at you, since there was a height difference you had to look up to meet his black sunglasses, he held your shoulders and pushed you to a near wall, you thought he was going to kiss you but he told you to stay put and he backed away few steps, knelt on one knee and took a picture of you, you could feel the setting sun’s warmth on your cheeks, ‘’You look divine under the sun my love.’’ He said and showed you the picture, he was right, you looked happy. ‘’T- thank you.’’

Tom was losing his reason that’s for sure, he wanted to slap his face hard. ‘’What am I doing?’’

While he was driving you were on the passenger seat looking cute and trying to decide on a song, what bothered Tom was that the same car kept following him for hours, it was a black Toyota RAV4, a regular car. First time he saw the car he didn’t think much of it but as you guys were leaving Harlem the same car was behind you. In his line of work Tom knew that this wasn’t a good sign so without letting you know anything he called one of his workers, a fine man named George.

‘’Hello George, are you close to my house?’’ before he called George he suggested that you could listen music on your air-pods, he told you that he had to make a business call and you would get bored, you did what he told you. When he was sure that you weren’t listening to him he told George that he was being followed. He gave the license plate, it was unfortunate that he couldn’t see the driver because of the setting sun. ‘’I will get back to you in a second Sir. In the mean while please choose crowded roads.’’

You noticed that something was off, Tom looked displeased and on edge, ‘’What’s wrong?’’ you asked innocently, in these moments he just felt this urge to hold you and never let go, he cleared his throat, ‘’Work problems as usual. Nothing to worry about.’’ He kept checking the mirrors of the car and you noticed it. ‘’What kind of a work problem?’’ you asked.

‘’Should we get dinner and go to my place?’’ Tom suggested so that you would stop asking, he grew tired of lying to you, ‘’I have work tomorrow and its getting late.’’ Your voice came out sad, ‘’I can drop you off to work love. We can watch a movie and relax, together.’’ He sounded tempting, you said yes because he was an interesting man to be around and you definitely wanted to see his penthouse again.

Until you reached to his house Tom was too.. how should I put it? Scared? Annoyed? You didn’t know if it was because of you or his work problems, I mean if he didn’t want you right now he would suggest that you should go home. It started to rain outside and you guys were on the living room of the first floor watching Addams Family and eating pizza. You loved the Addams family because they were a perfect family, since you didn’t get to have that you consoled yourself with movies like this. ‘’I love this scene.’’ You said, at the beginning of the movie Gomez Addams says ‘’Look at her, I would die for her, I would kill for her. Either way what bliss.’’

‘’So you like their relationship?’’ Tom asked raising an eyebrow, ‘’Yes, don’t laugh at me but I’ve always wanted a relationship like theirs. Passion and their respect for each other.. the idea of giving yourself to someone completely. Sorry-‘’ you blushed deep red, ‘’No, keep going. Please.’’ Tom encouraged you to speak, ‘’I want a soul mate, someone to share the rest of my life with and be buried side by side.’’ You spoke eyes fixed on the big TV. Tom gently touched your chin to make you look into those soft ocean eyes, without saying anything he leaned in for a kiss, just like in a romantic movie you heard a thunder and the rain got worse, hitting the tall windows. As the kiss got heated you slithered towards him and sat on his lap, his large hands went to rest on your thighs, he was unsure of what to do, he needed consent before moving forward and when he looked into your Y/E/C eyes all the promises he made to himself about you jumped out of a window, ‘’Do you want this my love?’’ he asked. ‘’Yes, Tom, God, yes!’’

You kissed him deeply, tasting each other intimately, he started to massage your ass cheeks and thighs, your body had a mind of its own and was dry-humping Tom’s crotch, you could feel yourself getting wet and his semi-hard cock. He attacked your chin and neck, biting kissing. ‘’Bed? Or here?’’ he asked between kisses. ‘’Take me to your bed.’’ It was your first time with Tom and remembered his huge mirror on the ceiling of his bedroom. He bolted to his feet and you were still on his lap, he climbed the stairs with a speed you’ve never seen before, it made you laugh.  He gently laid you on the bed and took off his shirt, his pale chest excited you, he helped you get rid of your sundress, thankfully you had dark red matching underwear. His blue eyes got wide when he saw you in your sexy panties, ‘’You look so beautiful darling.’’ He climbed on top of you, as you were kissing his thin lips your hands moved to his black belt and you managed to take it off, he pushed his pants down with his boxer, his cock was free and aching. Pre-cum made the pink tips look shiny, you wanted to taste him first, ‘’Can I-‘’ you never asked something like this before, he was standing at the edge of the bed looking at your body and his hand lazily jerking himself off, ‘’Can what darling? Use your words.’’ His attitude became more dominant and it sent shivers down your spine. ‘’I want to taste you.’’ You knelt on his bed, came to the edge of it, ‘’As you wish.’’

You first kissed the tip of his cock, teasing him with light kisses, little licks here and there, his chest was moving up and down rapidly, when you took him in your mouth the animalistic growl he gave you made you moan and you pulled out, later took him in fully, he was big and juicy. His hand came to your hair, harshly pulled and started move your head for you, before this he was imagining to fuck your pretty sassy mouth and finally he got what he wanted. Your vision was getting blurry, he never hurt you but he wasn’t gentle either. You didn’t forget to pay attention to his balls, Gods he was huge! You could feel the vein of his cock in your mouth, ‘’S-stop!’’ he said out of breath, you though you did something wrong, ‘’I want to feel you Y/N. Please, I- I can’t stand it.’’ He confessed, you get the feeling that just like you, he have been dreaming this moment to come. He knelt to give you a kiss and tasted himself in your mouth, his scent on your body almost made him cum, he growled to stop.

He removed your bra and panties and without losing a second started to suck your nipples and give you kisses, you knew that you would have bruises on your boobs the next day. His hand came to play with your wet cunt and clit, you whimpered under his magic touch, ‘’Fuck darling, you’re so wet for me. Do you want me to fill you to the brim? Do you want that?’’ while he was talking to you with his low husky voice he kept playing with your cunt, the wet sounds sent blood to your cheeks, you wanted him so bade it made you look stupid. ‘’Yes, please Tom.’’ He positioned himself between your delicious thighs and he teased your entrance with his cock, he didn’t care that he had no condom and you seemed fine with it, he slowly pushed himself into your sleek folds, making you shiver and scream a little because it had been a while since you had sex and Tom was huge. 

‘’Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.’’ He pushed a strand of hair out of your face to look into your eyes, ‘’Look at me Y/N. Watch me as I fill you up.’’

It was the sexiest scene you saw your entire life, he was slow at first, breaking you open, when he was fully in your legs were shaking with lust, he kissed you to calm you down and pulled out completely, and then pushed back in, by now you got used to it, ‘’Move harder Tom.’’ You said but he looked uncertain, ‘’Please.’’ You added.

He liked the way you begged, it was a dangerous thing because he started to like every small thing you do. His heart was pounding, cheeks red, a thin layer of sweat covering you both and the wet sounds filled the big room. You looked up to the ceiling mirror and the way his back muscles moved made your cunt shrink, Tom moaned into your ear when you did that.

He was so beautiful that it brought tears to your eyes, you were mesmerized by the way he moves on top of you, so rough yet not hurting, you could feel he was close because his movements were sloppy now, ‘’C – can I cum in you?’’ he asked because he wasn’t sure.

‘’Yes, Tom please. Please just fill me with your seed.’’ Tom couldn’t believe his ears to hearing you say stuff like that. It was enough for him to send him over the edge, he spilled his seed into your used cunt like there was no tomorrow. Tom didn’t pull out, he laid on top of you, you could feel his seed in you, hot and wet. Both of you were panting hard, you could feel his frantic heartbeat, Tom knew that you didn’t get to cum so he pulled out and used his fingers. You were about to say that it was okay, you could do it later but he shushed you by pressing his lips and his long fingers were in you. Soon you came undone, hot wave of ecstasy washing your body, he didn’t stop fingering you though, ‘’That’s it, keep it going love. I know you can.’’ With his fingers and his mouth on yours you came again.

When you fell asleep in his arms Tom was wide awake, thinking of what you guys did, was it a mistake? Should he break up with you and find your connection to his dad’s killer in different ways? He watched you sleep, you were an angle and he couldn’t bring himself to think that you had a part in his bloody business. He slowly left the bed and went downstairs to his office, his George called him to inform that the owner of that car who followed him today was a member of the Queens clan. Later he got a phone call, he wasn’t going to answer it because it was an unknown number but he thought that it could be work related.

‘’Hello?’’

‘’Hello Tom. Welcome to my city.’’ A rich tone of a woman’s voice came from the other side of the phone, ‘���I’m sorry, who is this?’’ Tom had a scotch in one hand, watching the city through the big window, it was dark and rainy, just like his home.

‘’We will meet soon, don’t worry about that. What you should worry about is that,’’ she stopped for a second maybe she wanted to choose her words carefully, ‘’If she gets hurt I’m paid to kill you, and I won’t hesitate.’’ Before Tom could reply she hung up the phone.

Chapter 7

Thank you for reading. :)

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