#pls let me know if you need me to change anything ! ]

[runariya]

Part 2 of this | shout out to @sleepingzzzimp who made this happen lol part of the prompt game pairing: vampire!Jungkook x f!reader genre: vampire!AU, yandere, dark romance warnings: compulsion and being held captive, obsessive and possessive JK, OC’s rather…special in regards of what JK did to her, allusion to dubcon/noncon, blood drinking, foul language, explicit sexual content, smut, OC’s ovulating, oral (m. receiving), ‘good girl’, a lot of saliva, deep throating, size difference, a lil bit of fingering, doggy, unprotected seggs, a lil bit of aftercare, a lil bit of fluff, lmk if I forgot smth pls word count: 2.573

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Jungkook didn’t think much further than keeping you by his side, using you not only as his personal blood bag but also as a warm, perfectly suited pleasure-giver for his dead soul. It’s not like you have much of a choice, with the compulsion firmly in place to stop your fragile self from doing anything that might harm your mortal, precious life.

He knows, though, that even under compulsion, humans tend to remain aware of what’s going on. He’s seen that subtle flicker of consciousness more times than he can count. But with you, he never finds resentment, hatred, or sadness—none of the things he might expect, even when he himself would admit he’s gone too far.

It’s impressive, really, and makes it all the more fun and fulfilling to have you around. You’re like the perfect doll, tailor-made just for him. Amazing.

Weeks have passed—maybe months? Jungkook doesn’t know anymore, nor does he care to keep track of mortal time. What he does know is that a routine has formed. And part of that routine is watching you make breakfast in the old kitchen of his mansion. Because despite everything, you’re still human, and you need nutrition to keep being his personal supply.

Jungkook’s noticed for days now that something about you has changed, though he’s not entirely sure what it is. It’s like the compulsion has worn off, not working on you the way it used to. But that shouldn’t be possible. At least, not in his understanding of things.

Sometimes, as he watches you humming around the kitchen, occasionally singing along to the crackling radio on the top shelf, he daydreams of you being here by choice, not because of compulsion. It must be nice, he thinks, to have someone who loves him.

Could he even love? If it was with you, he might try. Or maybe this possessiveness is love, the only kind he’s capable of feeling.

Like every morning, Jungkook sits at the nearby table, watching you prepare a high-protein breakfast, as if you’re willingly keeping yourself strong for him. Then, it happens. Your eyes meet his, and for the first time, they’re crystal clear, fully conscious, without any trace of the haze he’s used to see in them.

His face would go pale if he weren’t already deadly white. Carefully, he stands up, every sense on high alert. The kitchen knives are just within your reach, which he’s absolutely not a fan of. 

“What’s wrong, Kook?” Your voice is soft, melodic, and he can’t tell if you’re playing games or if he’s dreaming.

“You tell me.”

“I’m fine. But you’re not. You’re scaring me, Kook.”

He knows why you’re scared. He’s never acted this wary with you before, never approached you like you might be his literal downfall. But he can’t help it. Even though he knows you can’t really harm him, he refuses to let his guard down.

“I know the compulsion’s worn off. Stop pretending.” His voice is dangerously cold, stepping closer, eyes flicking between you and every potential threat—the knives, the hot pan, even the salt that could burn his eyes.

“I’m not pretending, I know it’s worn off.” You smile up at him, brighter than ever, like you’re happy to be free—though not from him, specifically.

“And why aren’t you running? Or fighting?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to indulge in some fantasy where you’ve magically fallen in love with your captor. But despite his caution, your words make him feel something—a fuzziness he hasn’t felt in centuries.

“Why would I?” You sigh, turning off the stove and setting down the spatula. “Jungkook, you’ve treated me well. It’s not like I would—”

“Cut the bullshit. I know you’re lying.”

“But I’m not, Kook. There’s no one out there waiting for me. And if there is, they’re only out to hurt me.”

Your eyes are glassy now, almost pleading, and he’s not sure what to make of it.

“And now, you’ve suddenly fallen in love with the one person who’s used you in every evil way imaginable?”

“It was never evil, and you know it.”

Your confidence throws him off. He’s always seen himself as the monster he is. He’s used your body, fed off you—blood and arousal—without ever asking for consent. How could that not be evil?

“But it was.”

You purse your lips, shaking your head disapprovingly as you turn back to the stove, reigniting it to finish your breakfast.

“It wasn’t. Did I give you permission for all that? No. Would I have if you’d asked? Probably not. But—”

“See!”

“I’m talking now. Shut up.” You point the spatula at him, and it’s so cute that he genuinely smiles for the first time in what feels like forever. “All I’m saying is, even though your ways are… unorthodox, you were never harsh with me. It never hurt, and I could feel how much you cared for my wellbeing.”

A silence falls between you, and Jungkook isn’t sure what to say. You’re sort of right. He never wanted to truly break you. He wanted to keep you safe, keep you useful for as long as possible. You’re too precious to waste.

“All I’m saying is, now that I’m fully conscious and making my own choices, I’d rather stay with you than go back to the humans.”

“I don’t trust you.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You giggle, and despite himself, despite every reason not to, Jungkook chuckles too.

“Eat up. You’ll need it.”

Jungkook turns to leave, still processing, his mind racing. He needs time to figure out what to do next.

“Can’t wait,” you call after him, your tone teasing, and he’s pretty sure that if he could blush, he would.

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

There’s no way in hell he’s able to figure you out. No. Way. Why are you all smiles and happiness, sitting like always on his giant bed, offering your neck to him like you always did?

He’s standing a good distance away, arms crossed over his sturdy chest, head tilted to the side. It’s not like he isn’t hungry—he’s starving, actually—because he’s never had his full fill of your blood, always making sure you’re alright after, leaving his hunger partially satisfied but never completely.

Saliva is collecting relentlessly in his mouth, his fangs protruding without much effort. Yet, he can’t make a move. What if it’s a trap? What if there’s a hidden dagger in your clothes, something that’ll kill him?

Should he just make you leave and find someone new? But he doesn’t want to. You’re just too sweet, too perfect for him to resist.

“Strip bare,” he commands, and the words alone make your thighs rub together as you immediately comply. Odd. 

You waste no time, each piece of clothing falling soundlessly to the floor, your nipples hardening in the cold.

“Turn around.”

You do. And he finds no threat on you. Odd again.

“Sit.”

You comply again, and he’s kind of aroused by your eager obedience. It’s refreshing, and he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to resist you if this keeps up—willingly walking into whatever doom you might be for him.

But still, he’s unable to move, even though the pulse of your neck is tempting him beyond reason.

“Kook,” you mewl softly, and he’s gone. Jungkook’s gone in the sweetness of you. He lets his arms fall, strides towards you, and practically tackles you to the bed, licking and breathing against your neck.

“So good,” he murmurs, saliva dripping from his lips onto your skin as you grind your hips against him. He’s not sure why you’re this eager—he hasn’t bitten you yet, so his bite’s usual effect can’t be coursing through your blood making you horny.

“Why so eager?” he muses, grazing his fangs along your artery.

“Ovulating,” you moan, your hands threading through his hair.

“Hmmm… I can smell it on you.” The intoxicating scent of your body wraps around him like a vice, and he can’t resist any longer. “Gonna make you feel good, doll.”

You only moan his name as Jungkook finally sinks his fangs into your delicate skin, your blood flooding his mouth, his entire being. It makes him feel high, high in a way that tells him he’ll never want anything or anyone else. He’s addicted to you.

Jungkook feels your arousal intensify, your dopamine and oxytocin levels skyrocketing as your juices drip from your perfect little hole, soaking his clothed thigh with a dark wetness.

“Yes, Kook, need more, please.”

Jungkook pulls back in surprise, the confirmation so new he’s unsure if he heard you right. But you grab his head, pushing him back to your neck while your other hand fumbles with his chest, trailing down to his abs.

“Please, Kook. I’ve been a good girl. Please.”

Jungkook feels like he’s in heaven—a demon allowed into paradise. He’s fully sated, despite not drinking much of your blood. He reckons it’s the awareness in you that magnifies the effect.

He licks the wound on your neck to help it heal, then leans back on his knees, admiring your flustered, tiny frame. You’re looking up at him with sparkly eyes, lips parted, neck still smeared with your blood—you’re a vision he’ll never get sick off.

“You’ve been a good girl?” There’s nothing more satisfying than seeing you this keen, and he plans to savour it.

“Yes, a good girl for you. Always for you.”

As Jungkook stands to strip off his own clothes, you’re watching him for the first time, drinking him in rather than lying there passively.

“Sit up. Open up.”

Obedient as ever, you do as told, opening your pretty mouth and sticking out your tongue, waiting impatiently.

Jungkook pumps his cold, rock-hard cock a few times, marvelling at the sight of you. He runs his thumb over his glans for an extra kick. And though he knows you can somehow take him, he’s always impressed by the sheer size difference. But you’re a good girl, letting him in, suppressing the gag as he hits the back of your throat, muscles pulsing violently around him.

A primal moan escapes his lips as his head falls back, savouring every second of you sucking him off like your life depends on it. He can’t help but thrust into your throat, his pace increasing with every push as you grab his hips to take him deeper, moaning around his cock. Your saliva drips down your chin, your eyes, aware, locking onto his as if to reassure him to give you all he's got. 

He doesn’t hold back after that, pushing his hips flush against your face, your nose pressed into him until you can’t breathe anymore as he lets go, shooting his load down your throat. He stays there a moment longer, riding out his orgasm before pulling back.

It’s pleasing to see that, even though you haven’t climaxed yet, your skin glows ever so lovingly.

“You good?”

You’re still catching your breath, but the smile on your face disarms Jungkook completely. “Yes, of course.”

For some reason, his heart swells at your words and at the person you are, someone he hadn’t truly seen until now.

A trail of arousal drips down his sheets, ending in a pool on the floor, which he hadn’t noticed before. The sight reignites his hunger as he flips you over, pushing your face into the bed and kneeling between your legs.

“Should I reward you?” Jungkook runs his fingers over your cunt, circling your entrance before moving to your clit, giving it a few rough pets.

All you can do is moan into the sheets, your hips pushing back desperately.

Jungkook always thought you were perfect, made for him—the reason he captured you all that time ago—but seeing you now, more perfect and conscious than you ever were, is something else entirely. He loves it. He loves you. And he doesn’t care if it’s possible or not—he’s never felt like this before, and he’ll move heaven and earth to keep it that way.

“I think you’ve been such a good girl, you deserve the big reward, don’t you?” Jungkook drags his fangs down your ass, ending at your inner thigh before sinking them into your soft skin for a little sip, your arousal adding a tantalising spice.

“Yes, Kook, been so good for you,” you pant, and that’s all he needs to reward you properly as he gets to his feet after licking the bite closed, lining his still-hard cock up with your weeping cunt.

It’s a tight fit, so tight he feels like he might pass out, his vision doubling and tripling as your pulsing walls grip him mercilessly. “My beautiful doll, my beautiful, beautiful doll.”

Jungkook can’t stop praising you with every word he knows. You’re perfect, moaning, drooling, and pushing back against his hips just for him.

“You’re mine, doll.” He sets a brutal pace, needing the confirmation that no compulsion is required for you to want this as much as he does.

“Yours, Kook. Always,” you cry, fists clutching the sheets as you push back even more desperately.

“Fucking right, mine.”

Jungkook grabs your hair without slowing down, pulling you up against his chest while his other arm holds you steady not to collapse right back to the bed. 

“Never gonna let you leave.”

“Don’t want to,” you moan, your glassy, love-drunk eyes locking onto his red ones.

“Never gonna stop fucking you.”

Your swollen, parted lips scream to be kissed.

“Never gonna want anybody else,” Jungkook confesses between pants, knowing and accepting there’s no turning back for either of you.

For the first time since he captured you, you kiss him back, sucking his tongue like you’ve been starved. It’s as if all this time, you’ve wanted to reciprocate, to give, not just receive.

And despite still tasting his cum on your tongue, there’s a newfound sweetness, making him wish the compulsion had worn off sooner.

“Kook, I’m close.”

He doesn’t need your words—he can feel it in your pulsing heat, your quickening heartbeat.

“Come for me, doll. Show me how much you want this.”

You scream his name as he fucks you through your orgasm, your walls clamping down on his cold cock. He doesn’t mind, wanting to feel every contraction, hear every scream, taste every rush of blood in your body.

His own orgasm builds, and he lets himself go, chanting your name as his thrusts grow irregular until he paints your walls bright white.

You both remain like that, catching your breath, though only your heart beats violently, only you are drenched in sweat, only you truly spent.

Jungkook eventually pulls out, cleaning you up with tissues from the nightstand, all while you watch, glowing ever so ethereal in your afterglow.

As Jungkook reaches for your clothes to dress you as he always does, you stop him with a hand on his tattooed arm. The boyish look he gives you is oddly endearing, and he senses you’re gathering all your confidence for your next words.

“Please don’t send me away.”

Your honesty hits him hard, and he straightens, realising he’s truly hit the jackpot with you.

“I won’t,” Jungkook promises, and with that, you leap around his neck, legs wrapping around his tiny waist, thanking him over and over as if he's you're knight in shining armour.

[samxbradford]

closed starter for @orionxblakely where: downtown, wherever their apartments are

The scenery drowned in the muffled sound of music playing. The door leading to his apartment was only partially shut, barely keeping the warmth within the confines of his home as he stepped over the threshold, out into the cold corridor. Feet were wrapped in two different pairs of socks as his knuckles connected with the door to the neighboring abode. One. Two. Three. His knocks were loud enough to call for anyone's attention, loud enough to make one thing clear - this was urgent. A borderline emergency.

[renatusest]

@geidonteispostergirl

When she'd heard of a market, Cheryl thought of something simple like a farmer's market or small cluster of booths; however, instead the Opalarian market town was just that-- a bustling, overwhelming expanse of different businesses. The only thing she could compare it to was an outside mall, simply on a giant scale.

Cheryl wondered how anyone would build something like this, and just how big this island actually was, as she walked through the market town's streets. So many different people, so many things for sale that seemed right out of a fantasy movie or novel...

Yet, what soon caught Cheryl's immediate attention was another young woman, one that was, undeniably, gliding through the air effortlessly. The sight of someone flying in broad daylight was so much of a shock that Cheryl could only stop and stare, her eyes following the other person until she finally touched down to the ground. Cheryl blinked, even going so far as to pinch her own arm.

Somehow, it was all still reality.

Cheryl couldn't stop her curiosity from getting the better of her, and walked right up to the other woman (she wasn't that far away, after all). She didn't even try to be subtle.

"Did you just fly here? Seriously?"

[billieblackwclls]

day of the call, early night, their place. with ; gabriel gallo — @carrved

the door behind her just closes, shoes barely had the time to come off that she makes her presence known, bag falling into its usual spot, ready to go at a moment's notice. " question for you, lover. " no need of a hello to even confirm his own presence, the aura in the room enough for her to recognize when he is or isn't taking up a space he fills so well. there is a magnetism he commands anywhere he stands, slouches or lays. one that still leaves her impressed, no matter the years used to its orbit. the day had been long, evening longer. depending on his answer, the night could stretch the longest.

" actually, maybe a little game. guess who disrupted the middle of a settlement meeting ? " finding him on their couch, it's overly easy to walk a path behind it. easier to let her hands fall on his shoulders, trailing down his arms as she's leaning in, lips to his ear to whisper some more hints to guide him through a possible answer. " it was the weirdest phone call i've ever received, topping any of your drunken ones. " holed up in her office the whole day, she didn't have the time to assess the wide spread of this incident.

but she did not actually intend to play anything, honeyed demeanor and sultry voice contrasting the much more solemn subject of the inquiry. " i trust you did not, in fact, give out my personal number to one late giovanni moretti ? " of course, she would be upset if he had, death of a man aside. it made no sense for that line to ring at the time it did, much less who the speaker tried to impersonate, as he had been retrieved from the river mere days ago. she knows gabe to be far more intelligent than a lot of people make him, trusts he keeps her as an ace up his sleeve and not displayed into his casual hand. still, he is the fastest link to the late head moretti, it's more than fair of her to ask. she simply hopes she was not part of his gang leader's little black book.

[outofthiisworld]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ @mystiquent field work fiascos

[🧪] Deep within the outskirts of the wild, far from the farmhouse and the workshop— Doc had busied himself with another personal pet-project (add it to the ever-growing pile; incidental retirement was both a blessing and a curse).

This time, his venture led him to vehemently recording various foragable (and not-so-foragable) goodies that grew in this neck of the ‘neighborhood.’ A perfect expedition to test out a new invention, one that was shaped as a mushroom to find… you guessed it: mushrooms. 

Except, the lil’ mushroom bot stumbled upon something else instead: a poor rabbit with a busted leg! <- Now, what sort of irredeemable LOSER would Doc be if he let this little guy succumb to a cruel fate? He was under Hippocratic oath after all (never mind the loss of said medical license).

Just then, he noticed another far out in these wilds. With the rabbit carefully in one hand, he waved the other toward the stranger dressed in bright hues of pink.

“HEY!” The rabbit jolted— oops, too loud. He tried again, this time a stage whisper.

"HEY! You— yes, yes, you! C'mere! Do me a favor and hold this guy for a sec? I need to make a temporary splint and I don't need 'em trying to hop off on a busted foot..."

[maricabrera]

WHO: @coltonatwater WHERE: The Side of the Road Somewhere

Mari had been on her way to pick Colton up- well, if you could call their little ritual picking him up. She usually drove to meet him, honking twice and then climbing into the passenger's seat of the old truck and allowing the blonde to drive from there. Which was the plan tonight for their dinner plans, except... well, except Mari was driving from one town over and if Mari was driving for more than five minutes there was more than likely going to be some kind of incident. Except, by the grace of the universe or someone, this incident wasn't her fault.

She'd been sitting at a red light when the car came up quickly behind her, swerving at the last minute and only clipping the back corner of her car, which caused her to panic and hit the gas. Luckily, Mari hadn't hit anyone else- just ran her car up onto a curb and hit a light pole. There was no driving it to Colton's, but there were also no injuries, which she was grateful for. But it did mean she was going to be incredibly late...

"Before you say anything, it's not my fault." She began, cutting off the man's greeting when he answered the phone. "But I'm gonna need you to come pick me up. Please." She added the word of gratitude a moment later. "And maybe bring a tow truck? Ol' Betty... she's..." Letting out a sigh, Mari turned to look at her truck, still pressed against the unmoving pole with the hood and grill crumpled around the metal. "She's in a state. I promise dinner after, on me. And dessert. And drinks. I'll even sing you a song." She mused. "I've already dropped you a pin for the location." Chewing on her lower lip, the brunette leaned back against the wrecked vehicle and let out a sigh. "I'm sorry. I can Uber home and we can reschedule if you want. I'm sure you're sick of playin' my knight in shining armor."

[lunaetis]

▸▸ [ @yueiyun || changli one-liner call ]

─「长离」─  " you are a long way from home, dear stranger. " the instant she laid her eyes upon the other, she could feel it. the LURKING power underneath his veins, one so similar to their sentinel but at the same time so strikingly different. the vermilion bird regarded him with respect. a LONG, he reminded her of. " may i inquire what business you might have within huanglong ? if i could be of assistance, i shall. "

[fmdjace]

◤so what?

❝ people that soaks into heart what kind of person am i? am i a good person? or a bad person? @minjungfmd

​jihoon feels like he is holding onto every single thread of sanity he has left. he feels like a little kid being scolded, for something he isn't entirely aware of. he understands where minjung is coming from. he was a dick last time they spoke, but he was honest, as honest as he could be to salvage some of their friendship. if anything, jihoon thinks he did really good, compared to any previous discourses he's had, he is impressed that minjung had the guts to approach him in a public setting.

let alone to call him out for being as friendly and cheery as ever. maybe if she looked a bit fucking deeper, she would notice that wasn't the case. maybe he should have bared his teeth more, scared her off and make her leave him to wallow in self pity. just like she did about juyeon, maybe even worse than that.. oh, it was definitely worse than that. they've had plenty of friendly interactions through the event, he was being as civil as civil could get. so he doesn't understand why minjung expect him to tear into her in a public setting with cameras and people lingering at every corner?

he is chewing on his lips as he listens to her, eyes scanning the perimeter every few seconds because he feels the need to get out. he doesn't care how disrespectful it is, he wants out.

"if you would like to lecture me on being civil in a public setting, pass the feedback onto my manager." jihoon finally spits out, after noticing the silence between them had gotten ever so slightly suffocating. "or maybe, you should take a hint and act the same, stop harassing me in public about doing my job at keeping our images in tact." the words come in the same tone and urgency, a bit through gritted teeth because the male thinks he might explode if minjung pushed anymore. asked anymore.

[angclnumber]

CLOSED STARTER FOR: @fruitpoem ! BASED ON: this plot !

"I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND WHAT THE FUCK you're doing with them ." dawn's nose wrinkles with the words, her brow arching as she looks them over . "with the fancy fucking tesla and daddy's trustfund and — those stupid boat shoes ?" the disgust on their face is apparent for a few moments even through their frustration . "we literally make fun of people like that and now you're —" dawn fumbles for words . "what, into it or something ? "

[clemencetaught]

"Thank you so much for introducing me into your busy schedule," Hermes says and he's oh so very polite, epitome of status and class, of the Capitol, complete with something less polite glistening in his eyes, making his stare resemble the kind worn by someone curiously waiting to see whether the distracted mouse will see the lurking cat in time. He comes up around Patrick, offering his hands. "Let me take your coat, hm? Care for a drink?" ((btw if Patrick is more of a jacket kinda peep here pretend it says jacket >:3333333)) || a year late but here we are ( unprompted w/ @mythvoiced )

One would think at his age, the stream of clients on his end would be slowing down by now. The copious amounts of surgeries and skin care routines Capitolites undergo would indict so– he’s already past his prime and with the pool of victors always growing larger and larger each year, he would assume the Capitol’s attention on him would fade. The Capitolites are like crows in that respect, eyes drawn to what is shiny and what is new, their attention spans that of goldfishes.

One would think then, that he’d be discarded by now, being OLD now and therefore in the Capitol’s eyes, as good as dead.

“But of course,” Patrick says astutely, flinching when he realizes the client has managed to sneak behind him. Well that’s new– most clients wait for him in their bedrooms. Most clients would have their avoxes let him in, the task of welcoming a guest apparently too arduous for those of their class. And most clients wouldn’t offer to take coats either. Perhaps this one was raised with a military background of sorts.  “Your father has a great deal of connections to the games and President Snow certainly didn’t want to disappoint his son. You know our president holds the games to the highest esteem.”

The coat stays on for a moment longer. He tries to savor it, his armor, as he looks around the foyer. It’s ornate, just like all the ones that came before. And all the ones that will come afterwards– at some point when you’ve seen one interior of a mansion, you’ve seen it all. The heirs of the elite aren’t much better and with the way his newest client looks at him, like he’s supposed to provide some sort of entertainment at the moment, Patrick can only bite back a sigh. Only three hours, Patrick tells himself. Slowly, he forces a smile. Three hours and then he can get on a train and go back home. Back to Sun. 

“It would be my pleasure,” Patrick says, finally offering Mister Hermes his coat. His stomach turns. “I suppose we all need a drink before the main event, hm? And a chance for me to get to know you, my dear.”

[requiemofrebellion]

@multianime - starter

A soft sigh left the blue haired male as he slowly stood up from the ground. His body was a bit sore from the training he was trying to do on his own before he had to reluctantly go home. Nagisa gathered up his things around the forest before heading out and back towards the class E building. He was sure a lot of the students had gone home by now. He wondered if the teachers even went home, knowing Koro-sensei though he was probably off across the planet to attend something. So, Nagisa didn’t think there was much use to check inside the building to say his final goodbyes until he saw them tomorrow. So, he turned away from the building, ready to head out towards the main campus when his eyes laid on a familiar redhead. 

“ Karma? ” At first it was a question, before a smile formed on his lips and he started up a walk to get closer to his friend. “ Hey, Karma. I didn’t think you’d still be around after school, what are you doing? ”

[samxbradford]

closed starter for: @ameriechen where: bus to primrose heights

Was it enough to count as a tradition after such a brief period of time? Unlikely.

He had been no stranger to community service since his adolescence, his teenage years when he had followed difficulties and trouble in all the wrong places and knew it well enough to know how very little he enjoyed it. And yet, Sam caught himself almost looking forward for the hours spent on the short commute, up to Primrose Heights. Occupying his usual seat on the bus, he glanced around, surprised to see the surrounding seats as vacant as they were today and for a moment, he thought she may not show up today. Amerie. The person making the commute all the more bearable and easy on his troubled mind. And when he saw her getting on, a smile crawled up to his lips in spite of the shallow anxiety that she may not pick a seat nearby, like she usually did. Though, mere seconds were enough to ease these concerns and wash them away with a gentle tide, as she took the seat adjacent to his, just on the other side of the aisle.

Was it enough to count as a tradition after such a brief period of time? Maybe.

"You know you don't have to keep me company."

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[hidesinhisarchived]

@courtesons asked: “ look at me." [from or to mark / your muse choice]

mark's heart skipped a couple of beats as owen's fingers firmly grasped his chin, forcing the filmmaker to look at him. he wasn't even sure how he'd ended up in this situation. the original job had been simple: take footage to be used in promotional materials for owen's new club. not quite his usual thing, but mark had needed the money and had happily gone along with it. things had gone smoothly up until now where a couple of drinks in during a conversation had brought forth a bit of a rant and a confession of attraction to the older man.

his heart was now pounding so loudly that he wouldn't be surprised if owen could hear it. mark was unable to pull his gaze away as color flooded his cheeks. his fingers absently fiddled with the hem of his sweater as he scrambled for the ability to speak again. "i-i'm sorry. that was...that was incredibly inappropriate of me. i'm sorry."

[interxstitial]

@giventakes sent: “ sweating trying 2 remember who i did send for... um um um 59 from sara!!!! ”           — #59: astronomy by conan gray

it makes sense. from the moment she approached the table, all of jiwon’s questions had been answered and his doubts validated. there is a magnetic air about her, something undeniably attractive in her smile, and jiwon can’t help but smile back. in truth, he doesn’t know much about wine—its history, the most revered vineyards, which bottle pairs best with what dish—but she makes the entire process as smooth as the carrot and ginger purée surrounding his miso-glazed cod. with intelligence and confidence in spades, the sommelier has been delightful company throughout all four courses of jiwon’s meal. now, mulling over a spoonful of orange blossom panna cotta, jiwon rests his chin on a palm and allows his gaze to drift far, far away. years have passed, but the memories hurt just as bad as the day they were forged.

it all makes sense now. thomas was right to break up with him for her.

when sara arrives to re-fill his glass, jiwon is already in tears, a little bit tipsy and a lot heartbroken. and yet—he still smiles, because sara is so nice and smart and pretty. “oh, no, that’s all right. i think i’m good for the night, but... i can take the bottle home, right? since i’ve bought it and all?”

spotify wrapped starters: ACCEPTING!

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          ♡.    zach    &    ??

                              ♡.       “bet you still won’t forget me.” @unbichiyal​