#she's so eloquent with her descriptions too!

[stayininmylane]

Healy has two lines of dialogue and I'm absolutely obsessed with him. It's embarrassing.

At least Morgan had an entire conversation >____< I mean bro...

...Ok that's not fair actually, Healy has his own connections to the main plot and is the near sole focus of one of Carl's most heart-wrenching episodes in the whole series, while Morgan was adopted and has 5 different colors on her outfit.

...still, I love them both as much as Carl himself, which I find very funny considering Healy will appear in 5 episodes max and we will never see Morgan again.

[kumkaniudaku]

Withdrawal Period

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 3.8k

MASTERLIST

Chicago was off the table. No harm done. Crisis averted. 

Enthusiastic courting waned into copy-and-paste follow-up emails a week after Kelvin pushed back against their initial offer with stiff negotiation terms. His mentor always told him not to take the first train coming. You're a black man in a white industry. Make 'em see your worth. They certainly saw something when he returned with an ask for around $10,000 more than the initial salary plus relocation compensation. 

Kelvin didn't hate their offer. It was more than he'd ever made in his life, and it felt fair for his level of experience. But, as he looked up at Asia with her head thrown back in ecstasy while she bounced in his lap, he could think of more than a few reasons to consider other options. 

Call it self-sabotage or plain ol' stupidity – Kelvin didn't care. She was worth a short-term loss for long-term gain. 

Late morning rain pattered against Kelvin's 6th-floor balcony, drowning out the constant ping of work notifications on open laptops. Cold breakfast dishes were abandoned on the counter, hoping their owners would return and finish what they'd started. 

Kelvin sat naked and wide-legged in the center of his couch, totally transfixed by the slow jiggle of Asia's breasts beneath a flimsy tank top she called pajamas. His left thumb dug into her hip crease to keep her rocking body steady, leaving his right hand free to sneak under the soft cotton and satisfy the intense desire to palm one of her fleshy distractions. 

"See, you didn't need me. You got it," Kelvin complimented, guiding his right thumb around her pebbled nipple before letting his jaw fall slack to match Asia's incoming moan. He swallowed to regain waning composure. "Right there, baby. You gon' cum for me?" 

Asia felt her stomach flutter and flip, ushering in a flood of heat between her thighs. She opened her mouth to speak but found nothing but "Ah…" in place of fully formed thoughts. After six days of unrestricted exploration, whole sentences were like needles in a haystack. 

Kelvin wanted to tell Asia how pretty she was, with her lips parted and swollen, while she practiced riding him into the sunset. He would've loved to say something so perfectly and descriptively nasty it put those Zane books he found in his mother's room to shame. If his mind wasn't so clouded with counting every thump, thump, thump of her throbbing core ripping the fabric of time and space, he could've blabbed on and on about how he thought he might be falling in love. 

He wished he could eloquently wrap his myriad feelings into a neat verbal bow, but his usual loquacious nature packed up and left with his common sense. All he could think to do was tug the top of her thin camisole down to free a pair of breasts he needed to get his mouth on. 

Hips bucked in his firm, one-handed grasp, the friction of thigh on thigh creating a deliciously painful burn to mix with a crescendo of pleasure bound to end in two raspy voices hitting the very edge of their vocal ranges. 

Like a Jack in the Box being wound too tight turn by turn, Asia prepared to shoot up in the air from pent-up pressure. Calculated swivels devolved into frenetic humping to satisfy her aching clit. She palmed the back of his head for leverage, pushing more of her nipple into his mouth. 

Kelvin's eyes flitted up to admire the beauty coming undone on top of him. It was cute, but not enough. If they were going to risk Teams bubbles turning from green to yellow, it'd better be worth the hassle of explaining their whereabouts. 

A bear hug with his wrists crossed at the small of Asia's back helped Kelvin keep her body in place as he rutted up into her like a man possessed. He bit into her shoulder, hoping to muffle the peculiar sound fighting to embarrass him in the worst moment possible. 

Broken moans became muffled with a searing kiss dominated by probing tongues until separate but equally explosive orgasms turned healthy 30-somethings into heaving, short-of-breath adults unable to contain competing loud sighs. 

Asia continued to rock into Kelvin, keeping his nose pressed into her clavicle until overstimulation made her thighs quiver beyond her limit. "Okay," she panted. "That one was better than last night." 

"But not better than Wednesday, right?" Kelvin asked as his palms roamed her backside. He put his back into that midweek tryst. No way it'd be usurped before the end of the week. 

"Mm," she hummed, thinking back a few days. "Wednesday loses points because you made me catch a cramp."

Kelvin huffed out a short laugh. "I didn't make you do anything. You gotta start stretching, babe. Eat your potassium. Something. Because I'm not stopping."

"Oh, really?" Asia's voice and eyes were low again to match her lazy grin aimed down at Kelvin. 

He smiled back before leaning up to kiss her lips. "Mm-mm. I like you too much."

"And I love that for you."

Sweet kisses pressed to plush lips in private had become their favorite way to communicate the feelings quickly ballooning past mild fondness. They moved like a couple without official recognition. Union was understood, but they still needed the explanation if either dared sidestep uncertainty and dive head first.

"You love me?" Kelvin asked, his eyebrow arching playfully. 

Asia verbally backpedaled to clarify. "No, no, no. I said I love that for you," she giggled. "I guess you're cool too, though."

Kelvin turned his lips up to hide a budding smile. "Yeah, yeah. Get off me. Some of us have real work to do." he joked before carefully separating their bodies. 

A light tap to her half-naked backside from her lover helped send Asia on her way toward the primary bathroom with giddy laughter and loose hips. Kelvin watched her until she disappeared, so enamored by her hips swaying he nearly forgot about the obligations screaming for his attention across the room. 

He'd felt the unexplainable tingle of joy before. Who hadn't experienced their heart soar from a baby's cherub-faced smile or finding money in their front pocket? The emotion wasn't new, but it was different this time around. Ubiquitous. All consuming like southern humidity in the middle of August. Having Asia in his life was nothing short of the kind of whimsy found in children experiencing the world for the first time. With her, everything was brand new and exciting. He'd go through hell and high water two times over to turn love's embers into a raging bonfire. 

Time apart to make themselves presentable brought them back together for more kisses and fondling that threatened to derail their second attempt at starting the workday. 

A left hand full of ass and a right haphazardly holding an expensive laptop kept Kelvin suspended between two worlds as he stood beside Asia. She leaned into soft kisses on her clothed shoulder while trying to make sense of missed messages. "I need to go home around lunch to get more clothes," she mentioned over quick tapping noises from her fingers dancing across her keyboard. "Need anything while I'm out?" 

"Nope. Make sure you get enough to stay longer this time. No sense in going across the city every two days." 

"You sayin' I should leave clothes over here?" 

Kelvin shrugged once Asia looked back at him to confirm. "Would it be easier for you?" 

"Sure," Asia answered, pondering the appropriate response to such a loaded proposition. "I guess so. Don't let me put you out of your space, though. It's okay for us to be separate sometimes."

"Who said we can't be? Leave some stuff, just in case. Either way, the drawer's gonna be empty if you wanna use it." 

Having spare undergarments and pajamas would make for a less cumbersome commute. More money going to her pockets and not into her gas tank was never a problem. There was certainly no harm in being prepared. Just in case, of course. 

Asia leaned close enough to kiss Kelvin's nose. "Okay. I'll bring a few things back." 

Victory. Kelvin completed an internal happy dance, the only physical manifestation resting in a megawatt smile as he stood straight up to pluck cold hashbrowns from a baking sheet on the stove.

"Make sure one of those is something for tonight," he called over his shoulder. "Still up for the game and a late dinner?" 

"Yeah, of course. Who knows? I might get tipsy enough to let you bend me over the edge of the bed tonight."

Near frigid shredded potato flew to the back of Kelvin's throat, temporarily blocking air from entering and leaving. Asia turned slightly to watch him in amusement until he could choke out a response. "Tonight?" He questioned, eyes practically bulging from his head. "You want to?" 

"Yeah. We can make a stop for extra…supplies. I didn't think we'd run out so fast." 

"You killin' the hell out the turtles, girl. Latex all in the ocean." 

Shock stretched Asia's jaw into an oblong oval. "Wow, so you gon' make me take all the blame? I should –"

Shrill ringing turned Asia's laptop into a blaring siren, reminding her she was a working woman with a long list of responsibilities despite being hours away from the weekend's short-lived freedom. 

Frantic hands shooed Kelvin and his shirtless body out of the camera's view while Asia previewed her surroundings in the pre-meeting waiting room. He reluctantly obliged, shuffling to the other side of the island on his way toward the bedroom to prepare for his own slate of back-to-back virtual connects. 

"Hey, hey." Savannah's familiar monotoned greeting filled the room once Asia connected, her voice far off while she rearranged windows between her monitor and laptop. When she finally looked up, her eyes squinted behind blue-light-blocking glasses. "Oh. I didn't know you were on vacation. What the hell are you doing online? Nice spot, by the way." 

Asia tried to remain cool. "I'm just working away from home today. Trying to get a different view. You know how it goes." 

Across the room, Kelvin complimented Asia's quick thinking with an approving head nod. She kept her face neutral to appease Savannah and to hide the stiff middle finger emphatically shot in his direction.

"No, totally feel that. I swear I've seen those exact cabinets before, though. All these buildings look the same now."

"I know, right. It's like, be original. That's how people get caught up." 

Silent laughter and a sarcastic thumbs-up greeted Asia once her eyes flickered up, working hard to snatch down the veil and expose her off-the-cuff ruse. She shooed Kelvin away without stumbling over her preamble, but not before noticing an air kiss tossed in her direction. 

She pretended to catch it and covertly pressed it to her cheek with a smile. "Alright. Let's jump in."

Home team wins paired well with fruity cocktails and starters shared over Top 40 radio playing far too loud for a restaurant. The only thing missing was the dessert requested before a second round could hit the table.

Asia and Kelvin shared peculiar yet tasty fusion dishes side by side, practically draped over each other, in a dimly lit late-night spot that Kelvin highly recommended. 

"How do you know about all these places? You're like the Black Guy Fieri." 

Kelvin chuckled in between chews of a popcorn shrimp. "I've moved around a couple times. Been a couple places. Might as well explore, right?"

"Ooh, Kelvin lore. My favorite!" The chance to learn more about him had Asia wiggling in her seat like an excitable child. "Tell me more."

Kelvin smiled back at Asia, taking time to admire all of her beautiful features under dim light. She was the girl of his dreams and didn't even know the half. He reached out to brush one of her double bangs out of her face before speaking. "After high school, I didn't know what I wanted to do. My dad was pushing seminary, but I knew I didn't want to be a pastor like him. I thought about music school, but music was just a thing I liked. I didn't love it," he recalled. "I moved to Houston to live with my sister for a year. Ate like crazy out there. Then I let some folks I met convince me to work in Portland before it was cool."

"What was that like," Asia asked, amazed by his journey.

"Shit weather, solid food," Kelvin laughed. "After that, I was a pescatarian with a girl I met during a summer abroad in Brazil. Full on vegan for another girl when I found some work in Miami. Then I came here and buckled down. Found copywriting then…you."

Asia grinned over her glass of water. "What do you plan on being for me?" 

"Honest." Kelvin's candor and steady eye contact stirred Asia's soul in a way she'd never encountered but didn't want to imagine losing. They met each other halfway, lips locking with no regard for patrons and what they might think about two people necking in public. Pulling away, Kelvin wiped away traces of him from Asia's bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "You got any more questions for me? 

When can we get the check? "You ever thought about leaving here?" 

His decision to be an honest man wasn't supposed to yield an immediate test. Kelvin immediately and visibly tensed, knocking Asia off-kilter for a millisecond. "Yeah," he answered without much added flare. He leaned forward to grab his glass of water, hoping a long sip could cure his raging bout of anxiety. "I, um…I interviewed recently for something in Chicago." 

"How recently?" 

"Like a week or two ago." Before Asia could ask the question playing behind her eyes, Kelvin stepped in to offer an explanation. "It was before we said what we said last week and hasn't gone anywhere. Nothing to worry about. I promise." 

Asia let her thoughts briefly shift her eyes to a spot on the outdoor patio, then back to Kelvin. "Why didn't you say anything?" 

"I didn't want to bring it up until I was sure. Plus, we've been kind of busy since then." His joke helped deflate the tension balloon between them, earning an eye roll and smile from Asia. Kelvin gripped her knee and flashed a reassuring smile. "I wasn't trying to hide anything from you. We're good."

"I know. I get it. You're supposed to find something that fulfills you." Equally lovestruck smiles turned into puckered lips pressing against each other once, twice, then a third time to seal in deepening attachment. Asia's fingers danced across worn upholstery and up thick cotton to rest her hand on Kelvin's thigh. "Just make sure you don't go too far from me." 

A twinge of something he couldn't place turned Kelvin's low eyes and soft smile into a pensive expression. He could promise monogamy and effort, but sticking to one place was less certain. The constant search for inspiration wouldn't let him settle for long – not while he was still free to roam without the responsibility of family obligations. 

Kelvin watched Asia pull a loaded nacho from a plate at the center of the table, trying to convince himself to breech a difficult topic. "Is that a deal breaker for you?" His question came out as an incomplete thought, forcing him to quickly clarify. "The distance, I mean. Is long-distance a deal breaker for you?" 

"Deal breaker is strong, but I don't think I'd be interested. I think I like having my person a short drive away, you know? I wouldn't want to give that up." 

"Hm." A short grunt, not even a sentence, was all Kelvin could muster from a mind flushed with equal parts relief and dismay. 

Asia didn't seem to catch how he shifted in his spot, and Kelvin didn't allow himself to linger in racing thoughts. Chicago wasn't happening. No need to stew. No need to ask the question burning the tip of his tongue. 

"We could've tried, though. Right?" A mouth that liked to run far too much betrayed him before he could think.

An answer trying to break through all the noise in the room was quickly engulfed in a spectacle of dazzling sparklers and scattered murmurs as a carefully constructed plate of praline mousse and cornflake peanut butter crunch was escorted to their table. 

As she clapped and wiggled in excitement, the childlike joy in Asia's eyes reminded Kelvin that the night wasn't meant for complicated discussions. He had a more pressing question to ask. 

Will you be my girlfriend? The words written in milk chocolate on bright white porcelain weren't enough on their own. They needed a drawn-out monologue shouted on the tabletop with trumpets as a soundtrack fit for a woman who'd knocked the air out of his lungs and put it all back before he could make sense of what exactly they were doing. 

Kelvin leaned in to kiss Asia's cheek and rubbed his nose against the spot before speaking. "Is the drive between my place and yours short enough?" 

"Mhmm," Asia answered. Taking his chin between her index finger and thumb, she leaned in for a kiss he returned with deliberate softness. "I love this. Thank you." 

"You love it enough to say yes?"

"Yes! Yes!" 

Skin slapping against skin sounded like resounding applause in a room fortified with thick cement walls. Thank God for refurbished builds. 

Asia lay flat beneath Kelvin, her face contorted in needy pleasure against one of the pillows she'd claimed as hers while he plowed into her from behind. He'd long lost any semblance of the sweet, gentle Kelvin planning extravagant proposals in swanky establishments. This Kelvin was focused on using his pelvis to put the sweaty, tensing body under his through an expensive pillowtop mattress. 

He pressed his palms deeper into the space on either side of Asia's head for added leverage. "Yeah? You gettin' what you need, baby?" 

"Uh-huh," she moaned out, delirious from a range of sensations. The fullness. Her clit rubbing against the pillow lifting her hips to the perfect height. The precise push and tug of his body inside of hers. The feeling of his lips against her ear once he lowered onto his forearms to grind into her. 

Measured breaths transitioned into shudders quietly released directly into eardrums, feasting on every sound. 

Kelvin mentally cursed the thin material keeping him from fully experiencing the truly mind-numbing effects of good pussy.  The combination of her arousal and a half-empty bottle of tingling lube got him damn close, though. Close enough to edge him toward premature release as he hunched into her until his legs started to give out from exhaustion and the damp spot below them expanded.

He dug into his energy reserve, riding her wave and his with frenzied strokes, rocking their bodies and the bed. Light, airy sighs and a barely audible squelch greeted his senses. "You hear her talkin' to me?" The question came in a low rumble only Asia could hear, turning her brain into mush as her eyes started to roll back. Kelvin smiled. "You think she like me? Hm?" 

"Yeah," Asia answered in a drawn-out breath. 

"I can tell. Look how wet she is for me. I like her, too." His lips found hers to speak directly into her mouth. "Shit, I might love her." 

Sloppy, open-mouthed kisses and pulsating walls pushed Asia and Kelvin over the edge within seconds of each other, sending shockwaves from crown to soles and back again. Oxytocin surged. Once lucid, thoughts felt like the loose liquid inside a hot lava lamp. Moans released in tandem became labored breaths from lungs gasping for any air left in the room. Skin grew hot from a lover's embrace. Tight muscles felt sore from overexertion. Still, neither of them was willing to end a night slipping away by the second. 

Asia gulped hard under Kelvin's weight and turned to see more of his face. "I need some water." Her raspy voice made them both laugh. "You got me sounding like fuckin' Doc Rivers." 

"Timeout!" A near-perfect impersonation of the famed NBA coach sent them into a gut-busting fit of laughter amid thick sexual tension. They knew this was only an interlude as Kelvin pulled out of Asia's warmth to roll over on his back and let her free. 

Already missing his touch, Asia shuffled over to rest her naked chest on top of his. He affectionately caressed her behind while she kissed the corner of his mouth. "Don't fall asleep while I'm gone." 

"I closed my eyes one time the other day! It was like two in the morning," Kelvin chuckled. The hand resting on Asia's backside lifted and came back down in the stinging smack she'd grown accustomed to. "Grab me one of those GU packets from the counter? Any flavor." 

"Of course." Tender kisses and a lasting squeeze against one cheek sent Asia on her way, leaving Kelvin to bask in the afterglow of a day growing more legendary by the second. 

Rational thinking would've told him to ignore the tempting glow emanating from his phone resting on the nightstand had he listened. Notifications littering the screen were nothing more than basketball final scores, text messages from his friends wanting the scoop on his night, and emails he'd get back to at some point. A sale reminder from his favorite art supply retailer caught his attention first. That 15 percent off was a godsend; he still had three days to take advantage of in-store savings. 

Kelvin should've put the phone down, closed his eyes despite his promise not to, and listened to Asia slam cabinets like she'd lost her mind while he waited for her to return. He shouldn't have continued to scroll. Stopping short would've saved him from seeing a response to his negotiation email sent during the fourth quarter of their night out with an opening line that looked a little too jovial for a rejection. 

His breathing paused for a second too long, sending him into a coughing fit loud enough to alert Asia in the other room. 

She called out to him. "You okay in there?" 

"Y-yeah," Kelvin sputtered out before tossing the phone to the floor as far away as possible. "I just – oh, shit – I could use that water right now." 

Bare feet padding across hardwood floors reminded him to fix his face before Asia appeared at the threshold with everything needed to keep an unforgettable night going. "Now. Where were we?" Hearing her carefully rehearsed line finally enter the atmosphere made her cringe. "That was corny. I'm sorry. Did I ruin the mood?" 

"Not with you standing there looking like that," Kelvin answered, a smile gracing his face despite the turmoil twisting his stomach in knots.

He beckoned her over, carefully retrieving items from her hands as she lifted herself onto the bed. He needed a distraction, and from the way Asia's body responded to Kelvin's slow kissing against her neck, she was more than willing to take his mind off the truth becoming abundantly clear. 

Chicago was still on the table. Harm may be done. Crisis not averted.

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[cloudbug08]

Pious Hands

Caitlyn Kiramman x fem!religious!reader

Men DNI

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

TW: Religion, Religious guilt and trauma, descriptions of violence, abuse from a parental figure, mentions of blood, descriptions of wounds (black eye, split lip, lashes on the back) not super detailed though, brief internalised lesbophobia, fear of sinning.

Synopsis: After a violent argument with your oppressive, pious father, you run to the safety of your girlfriend, Caitlyn, she offers to care for you, her anger boiling as you tearfully explain what your fathers done.

Your feet pad against the cold marble floors of the Kiramman house, Cassandra having opened the door for you, her eyes tired as she tugs her sleeping gown around her shoulders tighter, fighting off the autumn chill. She wakes up slightly when she sees you, quivering on her doorstep, dressed in only a silk night dress, your feet dirty, eye swollen, red blood dripping down your chin; your fingertips, toes and face glowing with the cold.

She ushers you in, a lithe hand pressed to your shoulder, the door shuts and the warmth of the homes hearth eases the freeze of your hands and feet. She pressed her hand to your hair.

“Whatever happened dear?”

Your glazed eyes well with tears, you hiccup, your lungs choking on the suddenly warm air.

She frowns, her face tight with sympathy

“Caitlyn is still awake, would you like to see her?”

You nod, blinking through the tears, she moves her hand back to your shoulder, carefully guiding you through the halls of her home, stopping when you reach Caitlyn’s closed door, she knocks, gently, but enough to be heard.

“Come in.”

Caitlyns voice rings out, calm and eloquent.

Cassandra pushes the large door open, Caitlyn is laid back on her lavish bed, flicking through her journal, a thin blanket is strewn across her legs.

“Caitlyn”

She lowers the journal, leaning up against her pillows, long hair thrown over her shoulders, her eyes widen when she sees you, the book is tossed carelessly, and she rises from her bed, tall.

It doesn’t take her long to get to you, lithe, gentle hands catching your shoulders, her eyebrows furrow, eyes glowing with worry.

She thanks her mother quietly when she leaves you.

“What happened?”

You gasp brokenly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you clutch at her nightgown.

“My dad, he found photos of us.”

You choke out, slumping against her

“I’m a filthy sinner, I shouldn’t be here, I’m so sorry.”

She grits her teeth, your father, she’s met the man, thankfully briefly, he was a pious man, as was your mother, and by extension so were you, but you were different, kinder, you weren’t intolerant, you didn’t look down upon the people of the city. You didn’t adhere to most of your father’s beliefs. But she knew your father was a skillful manipulator, convincing you that you were tainted, dirty, thankfully, he hadn’t managed to twist your mind into hate, and Caitlyn intended to keep it that way.

She rubs a hand against the back of your neck, breathing heavily before speaking.

“Do you believe that I am dirty? A sinner.”

You hiccup, shaking your head

“Then why do you think you’re a sinner? If I’m not, why are you any different.”

You stare up at her, your eyes doe like, she thumbs under your open eye, careful of your swollen one.

“Your father lies, how can love be sinful?”

Your cracked lip quivers

“You must know, God will still love you regardless of who you love, God doesn’t hate, why would he punish you for something so pure?”

More tears stream down your face.

“Do you understand?”

You nod, your head falling to her chest

“I think I love you.”

Your voice trembles, Caitlyn smiles

“I think I love you too.”

She lifts your head, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth, you smile gently up at her

“Come, we must clean you.”

She smiles slightly, her hand grasping yours gently. She leads you to her bathroom, the porcelain shines, her mirror still steamed, she runs a hot bath for you, the water sloshing up the sides of her claw foot bath, spilling oils and salts into the water.

“We must warm you up, I’ll clean your eye after, Ok?”

You nod, smiling at her.

She kneels down, gently rifling through her well organised draws, pulling out golden oils and lotions, before she rises, a splatter of red catches her attention, she peers down, there’s blood smudged on the tile under your feet

“Lift your foot, my darling”

You oblige, she holds your manicure foot gently, grasping the ankle, her eyes widen at the state of your soles, they’re littered with cuts, luckily there’s no glass wedged in them, but dirt clings to them.

“Oh my dear, can I clean these for you?”

You hum, blinking with one eye.

She swiped the dirt and blood away with a wet cloth, before she cleans the cuts, she walks you over to the tub.

“Would you like me to turn away?”

You shake your head

“No, you’re gonna see it either way.”

You smile, laughing slightly through your nose, she smiles back, her eyes filled with nothing but fondness.

You pull your night gown over your head, letting it fall to the ground

“May I?”

Her pianist fingers reach out, questioning, nodding, you watch her hand gently grasp your hip, her touch out of nothing but love and admiration.

“You’re breath-taking”

You flush, feeling blood pulse in your ears, you look away shyly, carefully reaching your hands behind your back to unclasp your bra before slipping your underwear off.

She just stares at your face, her face relaxed, smiling leisurely at you. You breath shakily before you turn, facing your back to her.

You can hear her gasp sharply at the lighting strikes of scars down your back, lashes from your father, they’re not fresh, scarred over and pink, she runs a gentle finger along them.

You turn your head when you hear her choking around a sob, her eyebrows are knitted and her eyes glow with sympathy, her palm splayed across your spine.

“How can someone be so cruel.”

It’s your turn to wipe away her tears, she grinds her teeth when she thinks about the evil creature that gave you these marks, leaning over your young, scared form, and lashing at you until you bled, she needed him dead, for how much he hurt you.

She bends slightly to wrap her arms around you, pressing fluttery kisses to your ear and neck.

She breathes deeply.

“I’m sorry, dove.”

“It’s not your fault.”

You hum, running your fingers through her silky hair, she breathes shakily. Focusing on the bath that’s still running, she holds you against her, turning the nob of the tap. She guides you to the tub, easing you into the hot water.

You ooze into the steaming water as she scrubs gently at your skin, humming an old song her mother used to play to her when she was young.

When you emerge out of the tub, she helps towel you off, before she’s rubbing sweet oils on your skin and working moisturiser into your joints.

She dressed you in a pair of sleep shorts and a camisole from her wardrobe, she smiled at you as she tied the fastening of the top, pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. Caitlyn snorts at the way the top hangs off of you, her taller stature making the borrowed clothes appear much to large on you.

She leaves a handful of candles lit to light the room, giving it a comfortable glow, she pulls you close under her blankets. Your body between her long legs, her arms criss-crossed over your back.

She whispers into your hairline, thumbing over your spine.

“I love you, nothing will change that”

You nose into her chest, smiling sleepily up at her before you doze off, curled up on your beloved girlfriend, no fear clutched at your heart, you’re not worried about what your father will think, you just feel loved, content.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed my first Arcane work, and I hope it wasn’t too ooc. Reblogs and Comments are always appreciated.

My request are open, please feel free to send me an Arcane request, I Only write WLW works, all men steer clear! This is a lesbian space.

[christmasjade]

My thoughts on Married in Red+ My general thoughts on Studio Investigrave !

So I really like this game

It was fun to be able to play it on my own with no help from Youtubers and stuff ^^

The game has 1 ending, though you can have 2 different kinds of game overs lol (I'll get to that later)

The mc (Bok-su) and her relationship with the bride (Da-Jeong) is sad , but not shocking lol. You can kind of tell from the promotional art (and the theme of atonement said in the itch.io description) that Da-Jeong and Bok-Su are not on good terms.

I like that Bok-su was able to get her revenge on Da-Jeong. Obviously her way of doing it is horrible, and the groom (Myeong-hoon) being a main part of her revenge is sad, because he had nothing to do with this.

However, I dont feel that bad for Da-Jeong at all. Yeah, two wrongs dont make a right, and people panic, but she essentially ruined Bok-Su's life and reputation to save her own ass, so I really can't bring myself to feel too bad for her.

Sure you can argue that the situations are different, with Bok-Su purposefully killing Myeong-Hoon meanwhile what Da-Jeong did was a mistake, but I personally am a firm believer of getting your lick back, so 🤗..

I also like how the deaths and reactions are the exact same lmao.

The patient Da-Jeong killed was a man, and his mother said something along the lines of like.. "You killed my son" (I dont exactly remember, depsite me literally just playing LMAOO) and Myeong-Hoons mom literally says the same thing/something adjacting to that too Da-Jeong.

Da-Jeong runs off and during her break down says "I didn't do it-", which is what Bok-Su says when shes retelling the story of what Da-Jeong did to her.

Bok-Su had to goal of getting her payback to make Da-Jeong atone and she accomplished it. And the crazy thing is, despite everything that happened, Da-Jeong never said sorry.

She never said sorry. Not when Bok-Su showed up to the wedding, not when the two of them where alone in the garden, and damn sure not when Da-Jeong had "enough" of Bok-Su being there.

She never said sorry, not even when she pointed the blame onto Bok-Su. In fact, Bok-Su repeats a line that Da-Jeong said to her when (I'm assuming so anyway) the incident happened. Da-Jeong told her that she didnt have anything to worry/be mad about.

The ending of the game, obviously, isnt really a happy ending. Bok-Su gets her revenge and makes Da-Jeong go through what she did but 10× worst. So sure its happy for her,but its still horrific lol

Which is why I love endings for the games that Studio Investigrave makes. With the exception of Cold Front, all of the endings across all the games arent truly happy ever after kind of endings.

With Dead Plate, Rody either has to kill Vincent after finding out his ex was killed and turned into food by him AND after he tried to do the same to Rody.

Yeah Rody makes it out alive, but theres still a horrible and traumatic incident that happened. He knows why Vince did it, and was able to get rid of him, but it doesn't erase the fact that Manon is still dead. (Or with the other ending he leaves the restaurant and never find Manon, because shes in the fridge "missing".)

With Elevator Hitch, the cycle repeats for Protag. When he finally gets the chance to leave the Elevator and the building, hes stopped by some..guy ?? (Who looks like an alternate lmao) and is convinced that he needs the job. The exit doors then open up into the elevator again. He never leaves that building, and is probably stuck in a time loop.

With Eloquent Countenance, Angelica either gets the ritual redone on her by the cult, or is stuck in the cult with the knowledge that shes not the only one in her body. But that she shares it with an angel pretending to be the dead wife of the cults pastor.

Yeah, she lives, but she has to wait until Forcas can fully save her from her possession by said angel. The ending, like Dead Plate and Married in Red, is horrific.

And then with the other ending of Cold Front , if you push Winnie off the stairs, he dies in the crash and Auggie takes his place. It's a happy ending for Auggie, sure, but he never gets the closure or the realization that Winnie was never the wicked and mean person he made him out to be in his head. Its disturbing how content he is with it, with the fact that his former best friend is dead and how he replaces him.

But yeah, erm... the game was fun, 10/10 ^^

[acetypeface]

The New Mutants Play DnD

They're still in my brain soup.

DANI: Is the DM. A fantastic storyteller, although she can be a bit of a stickler for the rules. Loves to prep days in advance, and includes as many elaborate schemes and puzzles as she can. Prefers to run a game that's evenly 50% roleplay and 50% combat. Brings lots of drinks and snacks so people (Roberto) won't leave the table mid-session with the munchies.

SAM: Plays a Human Fighter (Champion). Played the most basic character because he didn't want to challenge himself too much at first; has become the party's most talented member. Wants to be the leader of the party (no one listens to him). Somehow got knighted in their first session. The best at accents when roleplaying, but gets increasingly more southern when he gets frustrated during a session. Accidentally married a dwarven princess and can't figure out how to divorce her.

XUAN: Plays a Half-Drow Warlock (Great Old One). Has no idea what a drow is, just thought they sounded cool. Came up with an elaborate and tragic backstory for her character, which has fucked her over multiple times. Prefers deception and trickery to direct combat; has soothed over multiple of Roberto's accidental fights that way. Is really good at remembering all of the tiny things about each player's character. Is the resident healer of the party (the only one who remembers to grab important items, like food and healing supplies).

ROBERTO: Plays a Fire Genasi Bard (College of Eloquence). LOVES the roleplay aspect. Wants to be the face of the party, but tends to start fights. Talks a little too much; Dani has to remind him to give others a turn. Has successfully seduced the dragon. In charge of the party's money. Tends to power up when he gets too excited. Has "accidentally" led Doug into a trap more than once.

ILLYANA: Plays a Tiefling Paladin (Oath of Vengeance). Doesn't like to roleplay, but drops absolute bangers when she deigns to join in. An absolute beast in battle; has killed the most enemies to date. Was banned from being the party's face after starting an interdimensional war. Isn't afraid to engage in a bit of friendly fire. Has almost broken her oath several times. Gets really worked up and competitive during the tiny side quests.

AMARA: Plays an Earth Genasi Monk (Way of the Sun Soul). Loves elaborate descriptions of her character. Has already commissioned drawings of her character several times. One of the more cautious players; has saved Roberto alone upward of five times. Loves to dress up for each session, artful body paint included. Has mastered the eloquent speech of the fantasy realm.

DOUG: Plays a Human Wizard/Artificer (Order of Scribes/Alchemist). Takes too long choosing his spells and has to be reminded he would not be allowed to pause and contemplate mid-battle. Gets really excited by the terminology and world-building. Tends to have a panic attack when his character is about to die. Is known to "accidentally" cast area spells around Roberto. Loves solving all of the puzzles and riddles. Takes notes during the session, to the bewilderment of all.

WARLOCK: Is Doug's construct. Gets confused when they can't solve battles by talking things out. Is prone to running off to save Doug if his character is in danger. Incredibly distractable mid-game, but will always have his friends' backs. Gear hoarder who picks up absolutely everything, in case the party needs it later.

RAHNE: Plays a Human Druid (Circle of the Moon). Spends most of her time in Wildshape. Refuses to kill any animalistic enemies. Gets squirrelly whenever clerics or gods are mentioned; has been known to pray for forgiveness after a session. Gets genuinely frightened by some of Dani's descriptions. Strangely enough, is one of the party's best faces. Usually has a wolf following her at all times, and she cries if it dies.

[lowkeychenle]

Irrevocably [ZCL] (2)

Description: His decision has been made, but sometimes even Zhong Chenle can question his choices...

A/N: Thanks to popular demand, we have part two! I'm thinking this will be a three-parter. Do let me know if you would like a new one.

Genre: Angst, smut (no real sex but like smutty enough ig)

Content Warnings: Chenle is manipulative as hell in this!!! he is not a good guy in this fic!!! Do not read if you don't like it!!!!! This has gone into infidelity territory. Chenle is a bad dude in here, but the reader becomes a lil manipulative too. it's dramatic okay?

Word Count: 4,677

Pairing: Zhong Chenle x Reader | Mark Lee x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Juliet's Masterlist | Requests

Not hearing from Chenle for a while hurt, but you expected after he left. You knew better than to assume your spot in his life anymore, and when you heard from Mark that Chenle and his girlfriend had gotten back together, it stung more than you thought it would.

You had nowhere to direct your anger. After all, you had no real reason to be angry in the first place. Chenle never promised you anything. He never once said he wanted to be with you in any other way besides what you already had.

Embarrassingly enough, you’d tried to reach out to him. None of your messages went through, not even making it to the ‘delivered’ status.

“So, he came over to see you, screwed you, and then left you in the morning after she called?” Mark raises his eyebrows, blinking in surprise. He sits on the floor between your couch and the coffee table.

“So eloquently put.” You roll your eyes. Sighing, you lean back against the cushion. “But yeah, that’s what happened. And now he has me blocked on everything.”

“I guess I’m just confused,” Mark says. “Why would he do that?”

You grab a decorative throw pillow and cover your face with it. “This is Chenle we’re talking about. I stopped asking about motives a long time ago.”

“Was he like this before?”

“No.” Your chest deflates. “Honestly, he used to be a really good friend, even when we were…you know. Are you mad that I slept with him?”

“Why would I be mad?” He frowns. “I mean, you know I like you. But I’m not gonna tell you what you can and cannot do with your body just because of that. If we were exclusive, it’d be different.”

“I almost stopped him. He’s just…familiar, if that makes sense.” Your cheeks heat up as you bite your tongue to stop yourself from continuing. The last thing you need to do is make any of this worse.

“I think we all have that person we’re weak for.” Mark gives you a half smile. “I get it.”

You cradle your pillow in your lap and rest your head in your palms. “This is probably the last thing you want to talk about.”

“I’ve had more favorable conversations,” he agrees. “And…if you don’t want something with me, that’s fine, you know? You just gotta be honest with me.”

The stark contrast between him and Chenle almost makes you question everything. Mark treats you the way you’re meant to be treated—kindly, with respect, like you matter. Chenle, on the other hand? He was nice to you when sex wasn’t involved…for the most part.

Back before he’d met his girlfriend, he was as close to perfect as he could get. He was respectful of you, he didn’t push your boundaries, he took care of you. Now it was manipulation and heartache and lies. Chenle lied to you. He said he missed you, that all he thought about when he was with her was you, and you couldn’t even try to believe that anymore. It made no sense.

Actions speak louder than words.

But if Mark is perfect, why the hell are you still thinking about Chenle?

“I can do that.” You sit there for a moment, contemplating what you’re even going to say to make any of this better. “I…I like you, but I like him, too.”

“So it wasn’t just sex.” Mark tries to understand, confusion plastered across his face.

“It was. But when he was here the other night, I kind of realized I didn’t think that way anymore. Everything he said to me…It just doesn’t feel fake, I guess.” You fidget with your fingers, unsure of why you’re giving so much detail to him.

“That changes things a little bit.” He shifts, resting one of his arms on his knee. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m still not mad. But I think you need to figure things out. I’m not okay with being a second choice, (Y/N). And I hope you know you deserve better than the bullshit he’s been putting you through.”

“I’m trying,” you tell him.

“Right.” He stands, brushing his jeans off. “Do me a favor and call me when you figure things out, okay?”

“I–”

“It’s alright. I’ll talk to you later.”

You can’t even get another word out before Mark is out of the door. Shock courses through you, and you wonder if you made a mistake by telling him about your feelings for Chenle. Yes, his actions have been questionable lately, but that’s not the Chenle you knew. The Chenle you knew is the sort of guy who falls on the floor laughing, the over competitive to a fault sort, and whoever the hell left your apartment that night was not him.

Fantastic. Now you don’t have Mark, either.

The rest of the day is spent sitting in the exact same spot. You try to find something to keep you occupied, but without hearing from Mark, your phone is drier than the Sahara desert. Not to mention nothing seems interesting to you anymore. Staring at the ceiling has become quite the hobby.

You didn’t realize how often you spoke with Chenle until he was gone from your life completely. The two of you used to text constantly, not about anything in particular. Feeling the lack of his company hurts deep in your soul, in a way that shakes you to your core.

When you head into your kitchen to throw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, you don’t even get the bag out of the plastic before you hear a knock. Frowning, you check around to see if Mark had left anything, and maybe it was him coming back for it.

You don’t find anything, but you walk over and throw the door open. Everything inside you shifts, the blood apparently draining from your body at the sight of Chenle standing in your doorframe.

You barely even have a second to think before he’s lunging forward, a hand grasping the small of your back as he leads you back into your apartment and kisses you like his life depends on it. Shock courses through you, and by the time he’s pulling away, you’re at a loss for words.

You should be mad at him. You should push him away and ask him why the fuck he’s suddenly back.

Except that’s no longer on your mind when you catch the look in his eyes. You quickly realize Mark was right—everyone has someone they’re weak for, and for you? It’s Chenle. His chest heaves from the abruptness of the kiss, his tongue darting out to wet his full lips.

“God, I need you so fucking bad right now,” he groans, pulling you flush against him.

You don’t question it. In your mind, this means his girlfriend must’ve left again. She no longer exists in your mind. Chenle would never do that to someone.

“I saw him leave,” Chenle whispers, trailing his lips down your neck to where it meets your shoulder. “Every time I see him with you, I want to kill him.”

“Chenle, I—”

“You like getting me strung up like this, huh?” He nips your skin. “I hate thinking about anyone else fucking you.”

Your world spins around you, and you’re half-convinced this is a dream, but you feed into it regardless. You’ve craved him the entirety of his absence, so if this is all in your head, you’ll thank yourself when you wake up.

“You can’t leave again,” you say, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I won’t, baby,” he hums, resting his forehead on yours. “Can’t stay away from you.”

You tug him back to you, mouths smashing together. Every logical thought you’ve ever had has quickly exited, leaving you alone with a next to primal desire for the man before you. When you pull on his hair, he moans into your kiss, sending excited chills up and down your spine.

Remembering Mark briefly, you push Chenle away, turning toward your kitchen and aching for oxygen. You hate the way you want to forget the past two weeks. Like everything he’s done to you doesn’t matter anymore because he suddenly wants you again.

It’s not okay. You know it’s not, but somehow, it’s not enough to change your mind. You have to distance yourself from him, or every ounce of self-respect you’ve ever had gets flushed down the drain.

“(Y/N), where are you going?” Irritation tinges his voice.

“Better question,” you say, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Where the hell have you been?”

His eyebrows pinch, creasing his forehead. You swear you see a hint of guilt, but it disappears from your view when he turns his head.

“You think you can disappear for weeks and then when you show up at my door, I’ll just drop my pants for you?”

“That’s not what I said,” he replies with a scoff. “I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? I saw you and it just…I need you.”

“No.” You shake your head. “You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“What the hell is your problem?” Chenle’s voice raises. “You were never like this before.”

You freeze, a laugh of disbelief escaping your lips as you slap a hand over your mouth. “I’m the one that’s different?”

A shaky breath follows, and then you break into a psychotic laughing fit, gripping onto the counter as actual tears well in your eyes as you try to regain your composure.

“Your girlfriend broke up with you because you left pictures of me in your phone,” you remind him. “And then your first response was to come to my house and tell me how much you missed me and how much you need me, but then you went running back to her the second she was willing to talk about it.”

“That’s—”

“I’m not done,” you snap. Your fury grows, and red clouds your vision. “I warned you. I warned you she would make you choose, and you left without any hesitation. And I haven’t heard from you this whole time, so what the hell was I supposed to think?”

“Are you done now?” He narrows his eyes at you, crossing his arms over his chest.

You run your tongue over your teeth, nodding slowly. “You know what? Yeah. I am. Get out, Chenle.”

“Hey, that’s not what I meant—” He takes a step forward, and you take a matching one backward.

“Does she know you’re here?” You raise your eyebrows. “If I texted you right now, would I still be blocked?”

Chenle glances up at the ceiling. He doesn’t even need to tell you the answer—you already know.

“Oh, my God.” You stumble a little further back. “You just barged into my apartment, tried to get with me, and you’re still with her?”

“It’s not like that.”

“Oh, then please do enlighten me. How is it?”

“Why do you have to do this right now?” he asks, tugging his fingers through his hair as he turns away.

You don’t know him anymore. That much is clear to you—you will never be his, he will never be yours. Nothing about this situation is going to work, not that you ever truly thought it would in the first place. Could you really even be mad at him? You knew what you were getting yourself into when everything started.

“What do you feel about me?” you ask, folding your arms over your chest.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he shoots back, recoiling.

“Am I even your friend anymore?” You scoff. “Be fucking serious right now, do you see me as anything other than an easy fuck?”

“There’s nothing exactly easy about you, (Y/N).” He narrows his eyes at you. “I’m not letting you go.”

“Your girlfriend doesn’t want you here, Chenle.” You try to stay as cool as possible, letting your anger dissipate. “If you’re not going to leave her, you need to leave me. She made you pick, and now I am, too.”

“Are you serious?”

“Clearly.” 

“Not really sure where this fucking ego came from, but I don’t even know you anymore.” He shakes his head, turning away from you.

“Yeah,” you agree. “You’re too busy saving face in a relationship you’re clearly not too attached to. Does she not fuck you good enough?”

His silence is all you need. You imagine the way he closes his eyes, like his emotions are becoming too much for him.

“Or, I bet she hasn’t touched you at all since you got back together. Poor Chenle, can’t stand not getting his dick wet for a fucking month. You realize you’re doing exactly what she expects you not to do?”

“Yeah, because you’re such a saint, right?” He lets out a bitter laugh. “Hanging out with Mark and leading him on when I’m clearly the one you want.”

“If you don’t leave, I’m calling your girlfriend to come get you,” you threaten him, cocking an eyebrow.

“You’re gonna regret this,” he says.

“I don’t think I will.”

He leaves you alone, and all you can do is crumble to the floor when he shuts the door behind him. You trace over your lips, guilt sinking in at the thought of kissing Chenle when his girlfriend already thinks so low of you. How could you do this to her? She never did anything wrong to you.

As much as you know it’ll hurt, you steel your resolve. You deserve better, and this is exactly what you needed to catapult you toward Mark. He’ll be good to you, and eventually, you’ll get over Chenle. Hopefully, it’s not at Mark’s expense.

Jaemin was throwing a party. He invited Mark, who obviously decided he would take you. It’d been almost a month since Chenle burst into your apartment, so you figured you would be mostly over him in case he decided to show up at the same place.

Jaemin’s place was huge—hence why he’s always the host of these parties. The three story home is like a mansion, complete with dozens of empty rooms upstairs and vast space on the downstairs level for hundreds of people.

By the time you and Mark arrive, it’s already full. There are a few separate living rooms with giant couches, and random chairs strewn about for extra seating arrangements. Jaemin’s group usually sticks together. Years ago, when Chenle originally met them, he was the one who introduced you to the group. Everyone understood the dire situation between the two of you, but no one except Mark knew the full truth.

Since Chenle’s not there when you and Mark sit down, you hope that means he’s not coming at all.

Your relationship with Mark has gone well. You agreed to make it official, and the two of you proceeded to do normal relationship things. Even though you still have yet to sleep with him, you’ve done other things, and you were enjoying the slow pace you were taking. It was a nice contrast to the way things were with Chenle.

You sit on Mark’s lap, dropping your head into his neck while you laugh at something Jaemin said from across the room. His hands are latched around you firmly.

“No, that’s not even how that happened, dude.” Mark shakes his head, excitedly pointing at Jeno. “That motherfucker is just faster than me, okay? How was I supposed to know that?”

“You can just say you suck at sports,” Jeno retorts, grinning as he sips his drink.

Jisung stands from the other end of the couch. “Chenle’s here, gonna go grab him.”

You tense, and even though Mark feels it, you hope it’s not obvious to everyone else. Your boyfriend’s grip tightens on you, and he rubs his thumb on your hip in an attempt to comfort you. This’ll be the first time you’ve seen Chenle in a while, and you have no doubt in your mind that his girlfriend will be here too. You’ve met her plenty of times, but now it was different. She won. And she knows it, too.

“Are you okay?” Mark whispers in your ear. “We can do something else if you don’t want to be around him.”

“I’ll be fine.” You run your fingers through his hair and smile at him. “Thank you, though.”

“You sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? You know I don’t want him anymore.” You cup his cheeks and press a quick kiss to his lips. “You’re all I need and more.”

“Let me know if you change your mind. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He squeezes you once, and then the two of you return to your conversation with Jaemin and Jeno.

Renjun brings drinks for everyone, and you gratefully accept yours. As you tip the cup to your lips, three figures make their way through the darkness and into their spots on the couch. Jisung, Chenle, and his girlfriend.

She sits between him and Jisung, leaving Chenle only a few feet away from you. You make brief eye contact, and the only acknowledgement he gives you is a quick raise of his brows. His gaze sweeps over how you’re positioned on Mark, and you’re almost certain you see a scowl on his face right before he sits.

He rests against the cushion, crossing his legs before he puts his arm around his girlfriend and tugs her close to him. She doesn’t even seem to notice your existence, and you feel hate bubble in your gut at the thought of them being happy together.

Mark pokes your side, making you laugh as you curl further into him.

“What are you doing?” you ask, grabbing his hand. “You know I’m ticklish.”

“I just like touching you.” He winks and takes a large sip of his drink.

“You’re pretty good at it, too.” You watch the smile on his face widen, and only when Jaemin says your name, are you shaken away from Mark.

“(Y/N), last time I had a party, didn’t you and Chenle get so drunk that you convinced him to dance on top of the pool table?” Jaemin’s voice is filled with laughter at the memory. “Guys, he wouldn’t get down. She had to go up there and try to get him down. They’re fucking crazy together. Makes a party.”

“Ah, yes, too bad you got rid of the pool table.” You set your drink down and shuffle on Mark’s lap.

Jaemin frowns. “No, I didn’t—”

“I’m sure you’ve got better stories than that trainwreck,” Chenle joins in.

You’ve been doing relatively well. Honestly, you thought you were making decent progress in getting over Chenle, but his words still sink into your gut and churn there until it turns into anger.

How can you make him hurt the same way he’s hurt you?

A plan forms in your mind, and you hide your smirk with your drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch the way his girlfriend is staring at you. Her gaze drags over you as if she’s assessing which parts of you Chenle ever liked.

Well, it’s not like she hasn’t seen them. He only kept them saved for a year.

Time for you to put on a show. You want to piss them both off, and you know exactly how you can do just that.

You lean in to whisper in Mark’s ear. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”

“No, of course not.” He pulls away to look at your face. “You know it doesn’t.”

“Good. Then you know that I want you.”

He smirks. “Keep squirming this much, and you’ll know how much I want you, too.”

Mark gets a little more confident when he drinks, and you enjoy it. He reaches down and squeezes your ass quickly, but all that does is make you move more. The two of you laugh together, and he leans forward like he’s going to kiss you.

“Yo, if you two are gonna fuck, can you at least take it upstairs?” Jaemin throws his empty cup at the two of you, but since it’s a red solo cup, it ends up barely making it half the distance.

Mark’s lips brush your ear. “Kinda like the sound of that.”

You can’t even hide the shiver that runs down your spine. Instead of answering, you slide off his lap and hold your hand out to him. He gets up quickly and wraps his arm around your waist and tugs your back to his front before placing a kiss on your neck. The other boys whoop and holler as he guides you toward the stairs, both of you giggling the entire way.

You look over your shoulder, giggles fading when you catch the glare on Chenle’s face. If looks could kill, you’re sure both you and Mark would be eviscerated by now. He’s almost taunting you, daring you to move forward and go upstairs with Mark. Chenle’s girlfriend is scowling for a different reason, irritation plastered on her face while her arms are crossed over her chest.

After a few seconds like that, Chenle disappears from your view as Mark hand dips to squeeze your ass again. You intertwine your fingers with his and lead him all the way to the end of the hall. The door is unlocked, and the room is empty, so you close it behind you.

Mark smiles as you wrap your arms over his shoulders. You barely take time to appreciate it before you press your lips to his. He hums against your mouth. He walks you backwards, hands on your butt, until the back of your knees hit the mattress.

“You’re sure this is okay?” he mutters, gently kissing down your neck. “I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long.”

Your breath shudders, and you nod. “It’s more than okay.” You refuse to waste anymore time. Reaching beneath his shirt, you nudge it up his body.

He pulls it off in a swift motion, allowing you time to trace your fingers along his muscles. You push him onto the bed, and he backs up until he’s sitting against the headboard. Without hesitation, you join him in taking your shirt off. The lace of your bra is practically non-existent, but he gulps as you climb on top of him.

You guide his hands to your breasts, sighing when he squeezes them. Grinding down on him, you hold onto his shoulders. You feel his hardness through his shorts, and you lunge forward to kiss him. His tongue battles with yours, and you start to slowly lift yourself from his lap and sink back down as if you were riding his cock. Groaning, he kisses you harder, grasping your hips and helping you grind down on him, back and forth in rhythm with the way his mouth clashes with yours.

The straps of your bra fall down your arms and you tilt your head back at the deliciousness of the friction. Mark nips your collarbone, thrusting up to gain more friction.

“Fuck,” he moans. “Want you on my cock so bad.”

“God, me too.” You move faster, your body shaking and heat infiltrating every inch of you. It’s about time you took this step with Mark, and despite the way the glare on Chenle’s face as you went up the stairs with Mark excited you, you know Mark is everything you want.

He unbuttons your shorts, and you lift up to allow him to pull them down. Before his fingers can even latch onto the belt loops, the door slams open. Mark reacts quickly, flipping you over so he covers you with his body until he can get the throw blanket at the edge of it over you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Mark hisses, quickly grabbing his shirt from the floor.

You clutch the blanket to your chest as you let your gaze travel to the door, and when you make eye contact with Chenle, your stomach twists.

“I…” Chenle pauses, glancing between Mark and you. “I don’t know.”

Tears well, but you refuse to let them fall in front of Chenle. You can’t lie and say you weren’t hoping this is what would happen, but now that it’s here, you have two men looking at you for answers.

“You’re a shitty person, you know that?” Mark says to Chenle. “What is she to you? A fucking toy? You think it makes you fucking cool to ditch her and then not want her to be with someone else?”

“What, and you treat her better? You were about to fuck her at a party—”

“Better than fucking her while I still have a girlfriend,” Mark snaps.

“What?” A soft voice sounds from behind Chenle, and he grimaces.

“No, that never happened, I—” Chenle frantically looks to you for support, fear in his eyes as he silently begs you to help him.

But you refuse to. It’s his own fault he’s in this situation.

Footsteps retreat, but Chenle stays put, panic rising as he tries to figure out whether or not he should stay or if he should go after his girlfriend.

“You’ll never fucking be anything to her,” Chenle spits at Mark. “You think she’ll ever think of you the way she thinks of me? She’s mine, and you’re an idiot if you think you stand a chance—”

Mark’s fist connects with Chenle’s jaw, and you scream. Launching up from the bed, you push yourself between them before Chenle can retaliate. You pant as you pull the straps of your bra back up and face Mark, putting your hand up.

“Mark, I—”

“Oh, fucking forget this.” He laughs, slapping his palm to his forehead. “He’s right, isn’t he? No matter what I do, it’ll always be him?”

You take a step forward. “It’s not like that—”

“He just insulted you, and you stood in front of him. You stood in front of him.” The anger on Mark’s face is new to you, and you feel shame prickle in your gut.

“Please, let me—”

“I wasn’t the one throwing punches,” Chenle says. “So it’s not like she had anything to protect you from—”

“Fuck this. I’m done.” Mark pushes past both of you, stopping to turn back and point. “You two are both fucked up. I don’t want to hear from either of you ever again.”

“Mark—” You start to follow him, but Chenle grabs your wrist. Glaring at him, you try to jerk away from him. “You’ve done enough, leave me alone.”

“It’s not…not like that. You’re half-naked, (Y/N), at least get dressed before you follow him.”

You curse loudly, running back into the room to grab your shirt from the floor. Tears blur your vision as you tug on the fabric back on and button your shorts. You try to ignore Chenle’s presence—considering that’s how you got here in the first place—but the emotions become too much.

You fall to your knees at the edge of the bed, Chenle’s form a blur as he moves toward you. Your fists clench into the bedding, and your body shakes as you truly realize what you’ve done.

Chenle’s embrace feels natural, easy to melt into, but you push him away with such force, he sits down on the floor next to you.

“Don’t touch me,” you hiss at him. “This is all your fault. Why can’t you just fucking leave me alone?”

“It’s okay,” he replies, nodding. “You should be mad at me. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what just happened.”

You grip his shoulders and start shaking him. “What’s wrong with you? What happened to you? Where did Chenle go?”

For the first time in months, you see the old him. The one who actually cared for you. Guilt and shame cover his face as he takes in the state you’re in. You eventually become so weak, you crumble. He catches you, stroking the top of your head.

“I’m so sorry.” Chenle squeezes you tightly. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

[cto10121]

Book Bella vs. Movie Bella: Or, Yeah, Let’s Do A Ginny Weasley and Remove ALL Her Personality, Shall We?

Today’s post is brought to you by:

Because clownery is clownery, even if I do like Kristen Stewart as an actress. But Book Bella, she wasn’t. At all. And I just happen to have receipts.

Twilight

Book Bella is described as slender, though not in an athletic way, with brown hair and eyes, a heart-shaped face, full lips (the top lip a little fuller than the bottom one), and very pale, translucent skin. Edward describes her as “fragile-looking” and “silk in glass”; all in all, a very classically feminine description. Much of her big dick energy comes from her interests than her appearance. Movie Bella is indeed beautiful, but in a statuesque, angular, and yes, athletic kind of way. She is way too tough-looking and stoic, and most convincing during the action sequences

For that matter, Book Bella is much more emotionally expressive. She cries when she gets angry, she’s sassy and sarcastic, she has tantrums on the while, she has the fiercest temper when her loved ones are threatened…it’s never-ending. Movie Bella is either stoic, sullen, or a nervous wreck, there is no in between

Book Bella did not have that many physical tics!!! She bites her lip. That’s literally it. Calm tf down, Stewart

For that matter, Book Bella isn’t as socially awkward, she’s just introverted!!!! She is shy on her first day of school. She gets tongue-tied when she first meets Edwards. But her dialogue is consistently assured and eloquent, to the point where Edward complains that she takes everything so coolly. Movie Bella is awkward from start to finish

Book Bella cooks and cleans for Charlie. Before that, she took care of her mother, even paying the bills and running the household. She is a parentified teen used to taking care of her own parents. Movie Bella tags along with Charlie to some diner and cooks only one time in the whole series

Book Bella: *in response to Edward’s “Shame about the weather”* “Not really”>>>>Movie Bella: “oh, N-NOO, I don’t—any cold or wet thing, really—” 🤮

Book Bella *to Edward in the hospital*: “You owe me an explanation, tell me how did you stop the van, and don’t lie!!!!” 😡 >>>>> Movie Bella: “Edward, how did you stop the van? You were so fast. Pretty please, I won’t tell” 🥺

Book Bella: *sings along to boy band songs with Jessica and Angela, enjoys shopping with them, and helps them get dresses*>>>>Movie Bella: *reads a book throughout and is just uninterested*

Book Bella: *figures out on her own that Edward is a mind reader and tells him so*>>>>Movie Bella: “You can read minds????” 🤯

Book Bella: “Everyone, shut tf up, YES, INCLUDING YOU, EDWARD, I have a plan to stop James”>>>>Movie Bella: “What do you MEAN, James wants to kill me????” 🤯

New Moon

Book Bella never jokes about Edward’s age. In the books, of course, he is emotionally 17. Meanwhile, Movie Bella has this ~tease: “Maybe I shouldn’t be dating such an old man. It’s gross” 🤮 RIP Stewart

Book Bella: *didn’t start being friends with Jacob until after Edward left*>>>>>Movie Bella: “hEY BICEPS.” RIP Stewart

When Edward asks Bella why Jacob and others are allowed to give her gifts, Book Bella and Movie Bella have different responses. Book Bella says explicitly that Edward has already given her so much already—himself. Anything else just “throws us out of balance.” Movie Bella says she "has nothing to give back to [him].” Which is so non-canon, I must cry

Book Bella: “[The actress] is very pretty”>>>>>Movie: “Juliet is perfect, if you like that obviously beautiful sort of thing” why, movie

Book Bella: *horrified and furious over Edward admitting he contemplated suicide and forbids him from ever contemplating that again*>>>>>Movie Bella: “What’s the Volturi?” 😑

Book Bella: *went into a coma for a week, flew into a towering rage when they tried to get her to go to Renée, but then actually went through the motions for Charlie, becoming a straight-A student*>>>>Movie Bella: *sulks on her chair and staring out the window 🎶 THERE’S A POSSIBILITIEEEEEE 🎶*

Also, Movie Bella writing to Alice for no reason. Why would the Cullens even have email? Not that I think Book Bella would write to them even if they had.

Book Bella approaches the men on the street, thinking they are the ones who almost raped her, but then returns to Jessica when she finds out they aren’t. You know, like a normal person. Movie Bella rides with the guy on a motorcycle because she is that idiot

Book Bella changed drastically after Edward left. She couldn’t listen to music, threw out her books, avoided TV and movies. More importantly, she would hug herself whenever she thought of Edward because of a figurative hole in her chest. Jacob would go to mention how awful she looked. Movie Bella also has nightmares, but otherwise she is pretty much her normal self. She doesn’t even hug herself, looks presentable, and barely reacts when Edward and the Cullens are mentioned. That’s because the film never establishes her interests and even her personality, ha, oops

Book Bella: *only vaguely notes when Jacob took off his shirt because, y’know, she is bleeding everywhere*>>>>>>Movie Bella *gawking*: “You’re sort of beautiful”

Book Bella *figures out Jacob is a werewolf and goes to confront him about it, she then meets the rest of the pack with him*>>>>>Movie Bella punches freakin’ PAUL in the face and tells Jacob to run just before he changes

Book Bella comforts Jacob when he talks about Sam’s supposed cult. Movie Bella: “Well, maybe you should just avoid him” 😑

Book Bella: *nearly screams when Jacob appears at her window because she is frightened of Victoria* Movie Bella: “You scared me. The hell are you doing?” 😑 Also, Book Bella initially refused Jacob’s apology and tried to push him out

Movie Bella: “You can’t really run with vampires. ‘Cause they’re fast.” RIP Stewart

Book Bella could not stand Sam/Emily because they reminded her too much of her and Edward. The hole in her chest would literally begin to ache. Movie Bella has no discernible reaction

Omfg, Movie Bella was really going to kiss fucking Jacob!!! Book Bella was literally paralyzed with indecision and was only contemplating passively accepting. The films were so Team Jacob, it’s disgusting

Book Bella excitedly telling Alice to bite her and turn her into a wholeass vampire in the middle of an airplane full of humans. Movie Bella doesn’t, but y’know, time

Movie Bella *to Edward*: “I can let you go now” What. the. Fuck. Book Bella never even had the desire to let go of Edward. She even mentions that if she became a vampire, she could follow him wherever he went. When she went to rescue him, it was because of her love for him. Not because this shit would grant her closure!!!! Fuck you, movie!!!!!

Book Bella had to be RESTRAINED by ALICE to prevent her from going to Edward when he was being tortured by Jane. Movie Bella went into hysterics (not at Jane’s torture, but at the Edward vs. Felix scene) and offered her life in exchange. Which isn’t at bad or OOC per se, but c’mon, Book Bella being ready to go was superior

Edward: “I lied when I said I didn’t love you” → Book Bella: “I knew it, I KNEW I was dreaming” 😭>>>>>>>Movie Bella *believes him almost immediately and makes out with him*

Technically Movie Bella forgives Edward. She kisses him and still wants to be a vampire. So it’s heavily implied. But she never says the words. Book Bella not only tells Edward explicitly that she still loves him, but is flabbergasted that he even needed to ask

Movie Bella tells Edward to shut up during the vote scene. She is officially a different character. Fuck you, movie

Book Bella *to Jacob when he says he doesn’t want her to be a vampire*: “That’s NONE of your business!!! 😡”>>>>>>Movie Bella: “It’s not up to you” 😕

Movie Bella *to Jacob*: “I love you. So please...don’t make me choose” 🤮 Book Bella was very much up the river in Egypt when it came to her love for Jacob, so this is OOC to the extreme

Eclipse

Book Bella has a much more visceral reaction to the idea of marriage than Movie Bella. Incredulity, disgust, fear, shame—the works. Movie Bella just…doesn’t. She looks more amused than anything else

Book Bella is also much, much angrier at Edward for taking out her car’s engine. She didn’t even speak to him, just slammed the car door

Movie Bella admits to Renée that she is going to miss the sun. Book Bella by contrast claims that she is used to the cold. She also handles Renée much better than Movie Bella. It doesn’t help matters that Movie Renée is a regular cool mom who actually gives Bella a graduation gift (a quilt of their old road trip T-shirts...Book Renée would never) and not a lowkey narcissist who let Bella raise herself

Movie Bella gets on the motorcycle with Jacob. Book Bella stays with Edward at school to demand an explanation. This change even had Meyer calling it out for being OOC. The film does it to a) save some precious film time by combining the two scenes and b) to give Movie Bella more agency (I also suspect the filmmakers are mostly Team Jacob). My take? Bella would not and should not have gone with Jacob at this point in the story, especially since she needed to find out about Victoria returning, which is a priority

Jacob: “I’d rather you’d be dead than one of them” Movie Bella: 🥺 Book Bella: 😡😭

Movie Bella: “Stop! I’m tired of this. From now on, I’m Switzerland, okay?” 🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮🤮 Book Bella, honey, I’m sorry they did you so dirty

Book Bella being so furious at Jacob kissing her without her consent was everything. So of course they robbed Movie Bella of her fury and had her spend the sequence placating an angry Edward instead. Of course. Fuck you, movie

Not Movie Bella liking Jessica’s speech about making mistakes and changing your mind because "nothing is permament"...when she is about to become a vampire, a literally permanent change. 💀 Book Bella would never

Movie Bella is worried about people getting hurt because of her. Book Bella is more than worried, she was going prematurely gray

Book Bella connects both the intruder, Victoria, and the newborn army while Alice is giving her her blouse. Movie Bella gets a prophetic dream about Maria and Jasper and that...somehow...makes everything click into place. 🫠 Even when it’s following the books, the movie manages to fuck it up somehow

Book Bella guilt-trips Edward into staying with her and away from the fight. She feels guilty, but it was still her idea. Movie Edward suggests it first, and Movie Bella is resistant.

Book Bella was happy to be alone with Edward in the house. Movie Bella...is Movie Bella. Very 😑

Book Bella was so sad when Edward rejected her advances. As in, she cried, poor bby. Movie Bella “understands,” though, and is barely fazed

Book Bella barely and I mean BARELY accepted marrying Edward, and almost didn’t let him put the ring on her. Movie Bella did not even put up the semblance of a fight. Awful, movie, ten points from Gryffindor

Book Bella did not wear Edward’s ring because she has a fear of marriage and rings. Movie Bella did not wear his ring because she did not want Jacob to know

Book Bella doesn’t get at all angry at Edward for letting Jacob know of their upcoming marriage. Movie Bella, however, does, snapping at him and leaving immediately. At this point, does she even like Edward?

Movie Bella finally gets emotional when Jacob threatens to join the fight. A little too late, and of course it’s for Jacob.

Book Bella gets manipulated by Jacob into kissing him. Movie Bella tells Jacob to kiss her out of her own volition. Movie's Team Jacob stance is as obvious as it is sickening

Book Bella was so devastated by her cheating that she begged Edward to be angry at her. She couldn’t even look him in the eye. Movie Bella is just mildly upset. Fuck you too, movie

Movie Bella actually piercing her arm and successfully distracting Riley and Victoria vs. Book Bella about to do it, but then Edward interferring is indeed a big change...that I actually don’t mind. Rare W on Movie Eclipse’s part. 🎉 Or it would have been a W if the movie didn’t do Edward so damn dirty in the process. What do you mean, he was getting wailed on by Riley AND Victoria???? Book Edward had the fight in the bag. The fight scene was much more interesting in the book, and it showed Edward and Seth’s teamwork brilliantly

Book Bella literally faints at just having Jacob’s injury confirmed. Movie Bella is, once again, only concerned

Movie skips Book Bella’s breakdown and recovery of losing Jacob, I see. Fuck you too, movie

Movie Bella’s mini speech about choosing between Jacob and Edward was really the choice between two different life paths is not just Meyer’s notes to the director fortuitously making it into the script. It’s something Book Bella would not say because it’s something she already knows AND something Edward already knows

Movie Edward: “So it’s not just about me?” Movie Bella: “No, sorry.” Movie Bella being a completely different character #454545454543. Once more, fuck you too, movie

Breaking Dawn (Parts 1 & 2)

Not Movie Bella looking longingly at Jacob's dreamcatcher the night before her wedding. 💀At this point she loves him more than Edward

Movie Bella’s pre-wedding dreams are fears about her losing control as a vampire and drinking human blood. Book Bella’s pre-wedding dreams are about the immortal children, foreshadowing Renesmee. I honestly prefer Book Bella’s, since she is never truly afraid of losing control—she thinks Edward and his family would prevent her should that occur. Also, Movie Bella’s dream wedding dress>actual wedding dress. Not by much, though; they’re both nice

Movie Bella looked glad to marry Edward and their kiss was nice. Actually, she just seems much more happier in these last two films. But just a reminder: Book Bella literally threw herself at Edward and they kissed for an uncomfortably long time. Definitely much less restrained

There were some Bella/Jacob clowns that tried to claim Bella didn’t enjoy her wedding and was only happy when Jacob showed up. No idea where that came from, because Movie Bella was laughing with Movie Edward all throughout the speeches and Book Bella was happy as a clam and only happier when Jacob showed up.

That said, Movie Bella did look much happier at Jacob’s arrival. Their reunion is framed as romantic. She clearly loves him more than Book Bella and for that I say, nope

Book Bella was much angrier at the “real honeymoon” conversation with Jacob than Movie Bella. Again, Movie Bella seems to love Jacob so much more. That said, she does manage to shake him off, whereas Book Bella could not escape Jacob’s grip

Book Bella *remembering her wedding night*: 🥰🥳🤩>>>>>>>Movie Bella: *remembering her wedding night* ☺️

Movie Bella: “Why can’t you see how perfectly happy I am?” Because you literally looked happier seeing Jacob than you were remembering sex with Edward, maybe. God, who directed Stewart? Why did she choose this

I will give Movie Bella this, though: She is more deliberate or at least more obvious in her seduction of Edward. Book Bella was more *gives passive-aggressive hints in the hopes that he’ll give in and bang again*

Movie Bella cries at the good sex dream!!!! Finally!!!! Meanwhile Book Bella was downright sobbing

Movie Bella cooks something!!!! Finally!!!! This film is really giving Book Bella

Movie Bella ate chicken, barfed it up, remembered her late period and boom, she knows she is pregnant. Meanwhile Book Bella had been wrestling with symptoms for at least a few days

Movie Bella: “It’s a miracle, I guess” You guess, Book Bella knows

Also, it must be said. Even while visibly dying, Book Bella was still cracking jokes and diffusing the tension. Movie Bella...doesn’t

Book Bella is explicit why she is carrying the half-vampire hybrid: Because it is Edward’s child. It is not because she has suddenly become baby-crazed. Movie Bella offers no explanation whatsoever. We are left to infer only her love for the kid, no more

Movie Bella: “You can hear him?” Meanwhile Book Bella: “HOLY CROW, YOU CAN HEAR HIM”

Movie Bella: *when she first sees Edward post transformation* ☺️ Book Bella: *when she first sees Edward post transformation* 🥵

Book Bella 🤝 Movie Bella: “You nicknamed my daughter after the Loch Ness Monster????!!” That said, Book Bella didn’t hurt poor Seth deliberately! Movie Bella was awful for that

Movie Bella likes Renesmee, but she is much less motherly overall than Edward. Meanwhile Book Bella was obsessed with Renesmee, she practically took over the whole half of BD

Not Movie Bella wearing a sleeveless black tunic dress during her meeting with J. Jenks while Book Bella wore an oyster satin cocktail dress beneath an ivory trench coat. 💀 The one time Book Bella chooses to dress up, and the movie squanders it

Movie Bella *to Edward*: “I can undress myself, you know” Fool, that’s not the point. The point is the Volturi are going to murder you all, and you and Edward have only a month to love each other while you still can. Book Bella took full advantage, why can’t you? Oh, right, because you’re a #girlboss Hollywood protagonist now

Book Bella was the one to order fake documents for Jacob and Renesmee, quickly deducing Jenks’ side hustle. In the movie, however, Jasper was the one to place the order with Jenks, and Movie Bella merely picked it up. The movies are still continuing that ~fine tradition of removing Book Bella’s agency, I see

Book Bella protected their entire group with her shield and was instrumental in the Volturi’s retreat. In the movie, while Bella does use her shield, it is Alice who shows Aro her vision (which breaks canon, since she wouldn’t have been able to see hybrids or werewolves) and that led Aro to back off.

And finally, after the Volturi left, Book Bella embraced Renesmee, with Edward embracing them both. She kisses Edward with so much passion the forest could have been on fire and she wouldn’t have noticed. In the movie they all embraced each other, but with Bella making eye contact with Jacob as Edward and Renesmee hugged each other. For the last time, and I cannot say this enough, fuck you too, movie

[gretavanlace]

Poppins (part 9)

Josh Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, illusions to sex & oral sex, angst, language, brief discussion of suicide, dirty talk, deception, alcohol consumption, etc

The wine has loosened his tongue only slightly, while yours remains nearly untouched, and your tongue bitten quiet. The glass in your shaky grip having been reduced to something to merely occupy your hands - lest you grab him up to dramatically demand answers that, in truth, you really aren’t owed at all.

“I don’t even know where to start,” he chuckles softly, staring at the golden liquid he is now sipping on for courage.

How very unlike him. He is normally so well spoken. Even when touching upon subjects he knows little about, he is eloquent and honest, posing well thought out questions, eager to engage, hungry to banter, excited to learn.

His voice, always so soothing and pacifying; almost tranquilizing in its melodic cadence…now carries a small tremor. Does he fear your reaction to the truth? Or does he simply fear speaking the words aloud might solidify a truth he wishes wasn’t so?

Rather than ask, you remain hushed, and wait with painted on patience.

“The night I slept with her wasn’t the worst night of my life.” He finally sadly sighs, leaning back against the couch as though getting comfortable for the long haul. “In fact, I was so drunk I don’t even really remember it aside from bits and pieces. Doesn’t that make me sound like an asshole?”

You choose honesty, “Yes.”

He smiles over at you, thankful you refused to deny him, warts and all. “The next morning is what I really can’t stand to think about. Sometimes even now, it’ll all come back to me out of nowhere - how it felt when I opened my eyes against the pounding in my head to find her lying there beside me. When I realized what I had done to him. When I knew nothing was ever going to be the same. I have never, ever, considered taking my own life, but in that moment, if I had held a gun in my hand, I think I might have used it.”

The thought alone ruins what little appetite you might have had, and you know with certainty that the sushi rolls are doomed to spoil on the table.

“Probably on her first, and then on myself.” He shrugs, “I hated her almost as much as I hated myself for it. Hate myself for it. How could we fucking do that to him, you know? Monsters. Both of us.”

“‘He never has to know.’ She said, staring at the ceiling, refusing to look at me - which I was absolutely glad for. Her voice was innocent, like she was friends with woodland animals and dwarves. It made me sick that she could sound so sweet while we were still naked beneath my sheets. It made my stomach turn like I’d just stuffed myself full of a cake baked with too much sugar. I wanted to vomit. I wanted her to shut up.”

How differently they’ve spoken of her voice. Selfishly, you prefer Josh’s loathsome version over his brother’s wistful description.

“And I agreed, like a fucking coward, I agreed. I said, ‘Ok.’ That’s all. O-fucking-kay. Like she had just suggested a new diner for lunch or something equally mundane.”

You want to reach for him, to stroke his face, smooth his curls, to tell him everything will be alright. To somehow convince him it was all a bad dream, simply to erase the anguish that has vibrated to life in his eyes. Instead, you sit still and quiet, and let him go on.

“Betray my brother worse than I already have? Okay.” He scoffs, self disgust heavy on his tongue. “I said, okay.”

It’s silent for a few beats while he goes off somewhere alone in his head. Somewhere you don’t care to visit. Somewhere he wouldn’t allow you to follow even if you begged him to.

If you asked, he would shake his head and tell you you don’t belong in those memories, gritty with treachery and the ugliest of things. No one goes there with him, not even Jake. Jake visits a hell all his own when he thinks of the way his chest was ripped apart, and who was responsible for the wounds.

“Anyway, you know all that.” He taps your knee with a soft, sorrowful smile. “And while I don’t know exactly how much he told you about what went down, I do know that he told you that I eventually did confess my sins. I know this, because I know he could never stand to make me out to be the bad guy for very long…even though it’s what I deserve.”

You grab his hand up and offer it a squeeze. “We all make mistakes. He’s forgiven you…maybe you should forgive yourself.”

How strange. Last night you had been so furious with him for breaking Jake’s heart. It had seemed reprehensible, unforgivable, horrific…and it is still all those things, but now it has been rendered clear that it is all far from in your hands. There is nothing to be done. It is all just part of their history, which has nothing to do with you. They have navigated waters in which you will never swim, and that’s alright.

It’s okay to let go of what happened then, and consider who they are now, only.

“Yeah.” He nods slowly, “I have, mostly. Sometimes though, it's hard to look at myself in the mirror.”

The refrigerator kicks on, driving home the quiet, and how alone you truly are in the house…a rarity so foreign you aren’t sure how to handle the sudden, dawning realization.

“Anyway,” he sighs, at last, dragging his palms up and down his thighs - a gesture so like his brother’s you might be able to believe you’re sitting beside Jacob if you didn’t know better. “He waited it out. Lurked around in the grass like a fuckin’ snake until he found his moment. I earned the strike, though…and I deserved the venom, so…”

Soft as a whisper hushed in a theater, you find the will to pry “What happened, Josh…will you tell me?”

“Damn, sweetheart…” he grins, jutting in chin upwards in order to glare lovingly down the perfect bridge of his nose at you “You know how to get what you want, don’t you?”

“I don’t—“ your confusion scatters your thoughts for a breath “I don’t know what you mean.”

He leans forwards and drifts his lips across your cheekbone softly, tenderly, delicately, as if he worries over breaking you. “‘Will you’, you said. Like you want it…and I can’ t deny you. You want, you ask, I give…it’s just that simple.”

You can feel heat coaxing an embarrassing pink to life in your cheeks, “Okay, tell me then, don’t deny me.”

Should you use his devotion against him? Maybe not. Definitely not. But, this is why you’re both sat upon this couch, after all, isn’t it?

He grabs a sushi roll and shoves it in his mouth, likely to buy himself a little time. Finally, after a dramatic swallow, he shakes his head. “That fuck broke my heart right back. Eye for an eye was always kind of our motto, so I guess I should have seen it coming. I didn’t though, because what he thought was his revenge wasn’t the arrow in my heart he thought it would be.”

On you wait, as he gathers his thoughts, or plucks up his nerve. The grandfather wall clock that hangs in the hall, gifted to him after his grandpa passed, keeps time with its incessant tick, tick, ticking. He hates that clock, says it reminds him too much of his own mortality, the way it ticks the seconds and chimes the hours…but it would sadden his father to know this, so on his wall it will hang.

That is the Josh that makes sense to you. Selfless and fierce in his love for those lucky enough to bask in it. He is so much more familiar than the imagined Josh, lying in bed with his brother’s whole world beside him.

“I was in Flint for the weekend for a conference, and she stayed to keep an eye on the place for me. He showed up here, and I doubt she put up much resistance. Jake has this way about him, always has. He can just look at a woman and make her long for him. I’ve seen it a hundred times.” His gaze shifts to you with a gentle half-smile, “Some of those times have hurt worse than others, though.”

He’s speaking of you, and you feel ashamed. How many times has he watched you swoon over his twin, how many times has it made him angry? Worse, how many times has it made his heart ache?

“When we were younger, we used to do this dumb thing to mess with our mom,” he laughs softly and you feel yourself relax, “We’d sneak off into one room or another while she was busy with something else and we’d turn all the pictures on the wall upside down. It was stupid, and sometimes it would take her a day or two to notice, but it drove her crazy. We thought it was the funniest thing, watching her get so pissed off.”

“Idiots.” You laugh with him, picturing how pleased they must have been with themselves. “I don’t know how your poor mother put up with you two.”

“We did it with the furniture once, too.” He confesses, smiling wide at the memory. “Turned the couch and the end tables upside down. The coffee table, loveseat, the whole deal. Anyway…”

His sunny smile fades, “That’s how he let me know where he’d been. I came home Sunday night and noticed a single picture on the bedroom wall had been turned upside down.”

You’ve been in his room enough times to know that a picture still hangs that way, though you’ve never asked why.

He sees your gears turning and nods, “I left it like that not to remind myself of what he did to me, but of what I did to him.”

���I never brought it up to her, but I saw him a few days later - stopped by his place because I missed him more than I hated what we had done to each other. He looked like shit…almost as bad as when he’d learned that she maybe didn’t love him as much as he loved her.”

The memory of Jake describing the hole he had crawled into creeps into your head and you want to claw it out.

“What I said to him really isn’t important,” he shrugs, looking at you as if he’s pleading to be let off the hook. He doesn’t want to share, and you won’t ask him to.

“The long and the short of it was that he really did nothing that was too terrible. We’d always been that way with each other; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. But, I didn’t love her. He didn’t hurt me by sleeping with her. It stung a little, but that’s only because I’ve got an ego to coddle, that’s all.”

He swallows the last of his wine as his hand, warm and steady now, finds yours. “What hurt came later.”

“Lily?”

“Lily.”

“I hadn’t seen her mother in weeks when she called to tell me she was pregnant.” His eyes are distant and misted, but his thumb sweeps back and forth along your own to prove he’s still with you. “I couldn’t be certain the baby was his, but I was damn sure certain it wasn’t mine. Didn’t tell her that, though. And maybe I should have. Maybe I should have said something right away, but I just couldn’t. If she was going to lie and say the baby was mine, I was going to run with it. I wanted Lily from the second I knew she was on her way. Wanted her more than anything I had ever wanted anything before, even though I knew the truth.”

Your confusion spurs you on, and you can no longer stay mum “But how could you know? I mean, sure, she might have been Jake’s, or whoever’s, but she could've just as easily been yours, right? I mean,”

“No.” There’s a finality in his tone that quiets you instantly. “She isn’t mine, and I knew it from the start.”

“But…”

He talks over you, but he does so gently, “I hadn’t told anyone, mostly because I didn’t want it to be true…all I’d ever wanted was to be a dad, to have a little family to come home to every night. A boring, lovel, little life. Even now, Jake is the only one who knows. I should have told you, especially given how I want things to be for you and I, and I’m sorry for that.”

You think you know where he’s headed with this, but to misread anything in this moment is something you can’t risk, so you wait him out while he struggles to find the words.

When he finally finds them, they tumble out in a rush before he loses his nerve. “I knew she wasn’t mine because I can’t have kids. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry…I should have told you. You deserved to know that before things went as far as they have, but I just…I just couldn’t, and I don’t know why. I still can’t stand the thought of people knowing. For it to be fact. For it to be real.”

A million and one questions are racing through your head. Why can’t he? How does he know? How long has he known? Is he sure? Why he’s apologizing for something so devastating and completely out of his hands? Why he’s apologizing to you? Does he see you that way? As someone who he’d give his babies to if only he could? Does he love you that way? Do you love him that way?”

But the agonized shadows in his eyes tell you that this is hard enough for him. That he might fall apart if you unleash an interrogation upon him in his cozy little living room over wine and a neglected dinner.

“Say something.” He finally whispers, taking your hand in both of his now. “Please, say something.”

“I’m so sorry, Josh…” you squeeze your fingers tighter between his, lacing them further to ground him “I didn’t know. I’m so, so, sorry.”

You watch the terrorized tension drain out of his body. Had he expected you to be angry? To tell him that whatever this is between the two of you is over? You don’t know it, but yes, he did. He expected that, and worse.

“Sweetheart,” he blinks away tears as he calms and attempts to offer you a smile.

He’s trying to find a way to explain how much it means to him that you’re still sitting beside him, but you shake your head, silently promising that he doesn’t need to say anything at all.

“So now you see why I went along with it.” He continues, at last…words shaking and raspy with emotion. “I loved that little girl from the moment I knew she existed, and I wanted her. God, how I wanted her. I didn’t give a shit about biological this and that, she was mine from the word go.”

The love that undulates from every cell in his body when he speaks of her is maternal. The fierce, instinctual, protective devotion is palpable. He would ride straight into the fiery, miserable pits of hell to find her without a second of hesitation. He would die in her stead a thousand times over. He would do anything, anything, for her. It’s a love like you have never seen, and it is beautiful.

“So, like I said before, I moved her in straight away.” He shrugs, “She wanted to lie, and I wanted her to lie. Everyone was happy. The first ultrasound told me all I needed to know. Something about the way she moved, floating around in there, was so Jake. But, still, I didn’t say a word.”

“When did you finally tell him?” You hush, reaching up to stroke your fingers along the sharp curve of his jaw.

“At the hospital.” This memory in particular is a difficult one for him, you can read it clearly in his expression. “She looked exactly like us. She looked like him. Still, I hadn’t planned on telling a soul what I knew to be true until he showed up to meet her. Watching him hold her, the way he looked at her…”

He falters with a shuddering breath, “I just couldn’t keep that from him. He knew it was a possibility, he isn’t an idiot. But, she was his and he deserved to know. So I waited until we were alone, watching over her through the nursery window, and then I just told him. He looked at her for the longest time, so tiny and fragile, so real, and then pulled me into one of those crushing hugs of his - you know the ones - and he said,”

Now the words are so caught up in his tightened throat he has to fight to speak them, “He said, ‘congratulations, brother, you’re gonna be a fucking fantastic dad’.”

He laughs a little, “Then he knocked on the glass to get the attention of the nurse and demanded another visit with his niece. That was that.”

“He knew she was yours.” You whisper, in awe of their bond, of their tempestuous love for one another. “He knew where she belonged.”

“Or,” he argues just as softly. “He just couldn’t stand to take my only chance away.”

“Yes,” you agree, “maybe so.”

“He tried to stay away, I could tell. I could feel it from across town, the way he’d be holed up in his apartment fighting not to come over and see her…so I’d call him with excuse after excuse just so he could live with being here so often.”

The love in Josh’s heart, the empathy, never fails to floor you and make you weak for his strength.

“Then, after Lil’s mother left, he practically moved in. He helped with everything. We took turns waking up with her, not that it was that far of a stretch since she slept in either my arms or his. He gave her a bath every night in the kitchen sink, and I swear to god I’ve never seen him happier than when he was shampooing her little head. It all changed when she started to talk and directed one of her first little ‘da-da’s’ at him.”

He leans forward to refill your glasses, and you’re grateful for it, the haze of a tiny buzz might cushion the emotional blows being dealt.

After a long pull at his resiling, he goes on, “I argued with him when he told me he was going back out on the road. Told him everything would work itself out, but he fucking leveled me one night. She’d been sick, running a little fever, so we were both awake to keep an eye on her and he said ‘I can’t do this anymore, Josh. She’s yours, but every fucking day I wish that wasn’t true a little bit more. I need some distance, and I need it now.’ So, I let him go without a fight, how could I not?”

“She was lucky to have so much love, “ you offer, honestly. “She still is.”

“And you say I’m the eternal optimist.” He watches your mouth, but only for a blink. “No one knows, or even suspects. Honestly, I don’t think either one of us ever expected to tell another soul. And, you know, maybe I shouldn’t have laid this on your doorstep…but like I already said, he would have told you eventually. I don’t know how I know that, but I know that.”

“You’re right,” you lean in closer, pulled by the magnet force of all the truth he’s trusted you with, nose to nose, but there’s something innocent in the proximity. Something that says, this might lead somewhere tonight, this might lead nowhere tonight. “He told me he would have.”

His hand is wrapped loosely around the side of your neck now, holding you in place, “You asked him about it? What did he tell you?”

“Nothing.” Your lips are nearly touching, breathing one another’s air, words falling against each other's mouths. You savor him, he’s never tasted more like Josh than he does right now, with everything laid bare. “He told me nothing. He said it was your story to tell.”

“And so tell you the story, I did, sweetheart,” he’s crawling over you now, guiding you back on the couch, staring down at you as he moves with the strangest mixture of something gentle, and something inherently predatory. “And here you are.”

“Yes,” you nod, submitting below him with your hands reaching up to bury themselves in his curls, shivering at the velour drag of his closely clipped sides brushing over your palms. “Here I am.”

When he covers your body with his, pressing you into the couch cushions until you feel hidden and safe, he’s impossibly hard, rocking between your legs until he works a muted gasp from your lungs.

“So pretty, baby,” his praise sets you on fire, “I’m gonna make you sound like a song tonight. I’m going to make you fucking cry. Do you want that, love? Do you want me?”

“Yes,” you nod feverishly, forehead to forehead, “I want you, Josh. I want your fingers, I want your mouth, I want you. Want you inside me.”

“You want my mouth?” You feel his lips curve into a smile that is now flush against your throat. “That sounds perfect. You want me to taste you? To kiss you right here?” He snakes his hand between you and cups at your heat through your pants. “You want me to suck this beautiful pussy until you can’t stand it anymore? You want to cum right on my tongue, sweet girl?”

“I don’t care,” you’re writhing and squirming like a whore and you can’t find the will to worry about it, “just want you, baby…c’mon, Josh, please.”

“I like it when you beg,” his confession rides out on stuttering breaths, “But I can’t seem to deny you long enough to indulge in all that whining for very long. It’s a shame.”

His fingers are working at the button on your jeans as you pump your hips into nothing beneath him when the knock comes at the door.

“Who could…”

He cuts off your wide-eyed question, groaning out a name as he shakes his head in the crook of your neck, “Jake.”

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @jakesgrapejuice @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @gretasmokerising

[armpirate]

Anti-romantic || JJk | Ch. 13

Pairings: Boxer!Jungkook x fem!reader || Enemies to lovers, neighbors

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, curse, illegal boxing, violence

Warnings: fuckboy!Jungkook x reader, smut, dirty talk, curse, mention of tarot and fate

Summary: Jungkook had always been carefree when it came to love. He always believed he was worth sharing himself with everyone, and thought it was selfish of him to ever think of keeping himself exclusive to just one person.

And maybe that was exactly what got him into the big problem he was in.

A curse that kept him away from love didn't seem an issue for him. The fact that his ex-girlfriend thought he'd be affected by the idea of the girls he slept with running away from him after sex was ridiculous. She actually did him a favor, and took a burden away from him.

At least that was what he thought at first.

He had never found himself thinking of the possibility of repeating with neither of his hook ups, because they disappeared before he was able to even think about it. But when he makes the mistake of sleeping with the sexy neighbor that lives in front of him, he finds himself hoping to get the chance for a second round every time their paths cross.

Y/n hated him the second he set foot inside the building by the way he started making her life a miserable mess for no reason. Sleeping with him was a big mistake she wasn't thinking of repeating. At least not until he came up with the excuse that she rejected him for a curse. Not only she thought he was annoying, but she was also convinced he was crazy. 

There was no way she could take him seriously.

Aprox. time of reading: 28 minutes

Chapter warnings: Smut, dirty talk, protected sex, oral sex (female receiving), female masturbation, pubic hair, teasing

Previous || Next

MASTERLIST

His hand was almost rubbing her shoulder, embracing her back as she moved closer to him to give him no space to think about anything else that wasn't her. Jungkook had been working almost all night to get her attention.

He knew women like her were difficult to find, and even more difficult to keep engaged. He played nice and funny, his conversation was eloquent until he saw in her eyes how hooked he was. And then, he made the tactic move of telling her he didn't want to bother and that he'd go back to his table, only for her to insist him to stay a little longer.

Her fingers made the quick move of sliding in his locks, moving through his scalp as she approached her lips to his.

Until his ringtone interrupted.

—It'll be quick —he assured her.

His right hand left her thigh over her trousers to reach the back pocket of his pants and take the phone out.

Peter's name on his screen made him sigh, wondering why he was calling so late into the night, and why he was even thinking of bothering him out of training hours.

—What?

—There's a girl that looks exactly like your girlfriend here.

—My girlfriend? —he quickly smiled at the girl, who frowned at that word.

—Yeah, that petty girl that entered the gym like she owned it a few weeks ago.

Jungkook sat straight, moving away from the girl he was ready to hook up with, when the description sounded a little too familiar.

A petty girl? That acted like she owned places? And that was in his gym? That could only be Y/n.

—Are you sure it's her?

—It looks like her for sure —he sighed—. She's wearing boxing gloves, and one of the trainers is with her. But I'm not sure if she's here to fight.

Jungkook was convinced all those hits at his head were paying a tough consequence faster than it should.

—Well, so what? —he chuckled— She isn't my problem. Focus on your things, and ignore her.

After hanging up, Jungkook turned to the girl that was giving him a rough look after that call, expecting an explanation.

—It's a misunderstanding —he started—. It's just someone who's obsessed with me, and goes around telling people we're dating.

—I mean, I'm not surprised —her fingers moved up to his chest—. I'm obsessed, and I've only been around you for a few hours.

His hand went back to that spot in her thigh, leaning over her to go for that kiss he was interrupted from getting, only to be interrupted again. His thought froze him on the spot, stopping just a few millimeters from her face, and barely feeling anything when she linked their lips together.

What was Y/n doing in a place like that? And why the hell was she even thinking of fighting? So that was why she had those boxing gloves in her house the other day?

Jungkook shook his head, trying to focus on the kiss that he barely corresponded to. Y/n wasn't his problem.

But they'd eat her alive in that place? She could seem to be rough, but she wouldn't last a round.

The girl lost her balance when Jungkook moved back quickly, letting his thoughts win and his worry take over him. He wasn't doing it because of her, that was right, he was just worried that his conscience would make him feel guilty because he had the chance to avoid it. That was the reason.

—You're amazing, so hot and sexy —the girl smiled, sinking her shoulders with fake shyness—. But I need to go.

He got up and started making his way to the door, stopping when he realized he had no way of getting to the place the fight was taking place. The girl sat straight, faking pride -even if her heart skipped a bit- when she saw him walking back to her.

—Perhaps... Did you come here by car? I really need someone to drive me somewhere.

She got up, and for a quick second he genuinely thought she'd agree on taking him where he needed to be. His face quickly moved to the side after she slapped his face, and walked away from his mumbling several insults.

—"No" would've worked —he complained, rubbing his cheek with the palm of his hand.

Well, he had to get there by uber or taxi. Not only did she cost him a fun night, Y/n also cost him whatever price the drivers settled for the night.

She was so determined when she first agreed to the fight, thinking that she'd find a way out before she actually had to go up in the ring, that she didn't even think of the possible problems that could come up and that could avoid her from dodging being beaten up by another woman that was twice of her body in muscles.

Her blood pressure went down to the tip of her toes when she saw that fighter, keeping her hair away from her face with two boxer braids.

She hadn't even been training for a week.

Of course she knew how to hit a punch on someone, or how to dodge a hit before it actually reached her face. Her brother taught her before he died. But that situation was completely different. She had never had to think so fast and react at the same time the thoughts were kicking in her system.

She agreed to the fight, thinking she'd overhear some information that could be useful to her, thinking that someone important would show up and show the face so she could try to expose him as part of that web of illegal fights. But there was nothing she could use.

Nothing.

—How am I supposed to win? She looks like she'd eat me with one bite and burp all of my bones out —she whispered, hating herself for being unable to hide the way her voice shook.

—Oh, don't worry about that.

A ray of hope fell on her with those words coming from her trainer, thinking that maybe she was better at fighting than she thought -he agreed on her showing up at the fight due to something-, or maybe the other fighter was all appearance and she was indeed as bad in boxing as her.

—You're not supposed to win.

Y/n opened her eyes wide, turning to her trainer, who was looking at her with a calm smile.

—I'll earn more if my fighters lose than if they win —he whispered—. Just take the hits. Pam, pam —he simulated the punches—, and stay up until the fourth or fifth round.

—I should just allow her to punch me until the fifth round? —she hysterically asked.

—You got it right —he patted her shoulder—. Don't think about it too much, because you're next.

It all happened so fast, that she didn't know where the other fight came to an end until she saw that other young boy almost being dragged out of the improvised ring. She gulped thick, seeing what her future would look like in the next fifteen minutes.

—Wait —she urgently spoke, trying to stand her foot on the ground as hard as she could—, couldn't you give me two minutes more to think about it?

—Two minutes more? Of course —but his fake smile quickly dropped—. What do you think this is? Let's go.

She was already ready to face her fate, dealing with the consequences of her own decisions that took her there. Until another bigger hand got a grip on her forearm, next to her trainer's hand, and a wide back almost covered her whole body, barely allowing her to see further than it.

—Why am I not surprised? —the middle-aged man scoffed, looking away before his eyes fell on Jungkook— Get out of my way.

—She's not fighting, Ramon —Jungkook slowly spoke.

Y/n looked lower on the hand holding her, frowning when she thought of how familiar those tattoos looked. And that voice... Usually, she was so annoyed just seeing Jungkook, that she was always tempted to do the opposite of what he'd like her to do, but that day he showed up like a guardian angel, making her feel like she had never been happier to see him before in her life.

—At least I'm here supporting my fighters —the man answered with a cocky tone.

—You know nobody from my business is fighting today —he hissed.

And it wasn't like he ever sent any of his fighters to fight, unless he had no other choice. And he always made sure they were prepared to confront any fight they were signed on.

—Let her go unless you want me to break each bone of your body.

—If I let her go, you know they'll do more than just break each bone of your body, Jungkook.

—It's alright —Y/n interrupted, finally making him turn to her—. I'm here because of that, and it isn't like I need your help.

Y/n moved her arm away, getting rid of both of their grips to be able to walk past her neighbor. She turned again, looking at him one last time.

—Calm your dick down while I get on the ring. Just let what happened the last time happen again.

Her voice and body language were saying one thing, but her eyes were asking him to do another.

His brain was working at full speed, looking around to anything that could help him come up with something to help her. Those fights are never stopped. No trainers oppose, no fighters step back, no one from outside can come in between. The only few times it was ever stopped was because cops suddenly popped up.

And he saw the light.

Moving around the crowd, he looked for Peter, until he found him supporting his weight on one of the columns as he saw the ring from afar.

—Hey, Kook —the young boy greeted.

—I need you to do me a favor.

—Sure, what is it?

In a hurry, Jungkook leaned over the boy, able to whisper what he was planning to do in his ear, so nobody around would know.

—Get out of here, and call the police.

—What? Why?

—Just do what I'm telling you —seeing that Peter wasn't moving still, he spoke again—. Now.

Once the young man disappeared among the crowd, Jungkook turned his back to the ring again, hoping his idea would work out.

At the sound of the bells, Y/n could only feel her stomach sinking deeper and her legs feeling as weak as jelly, before she started running around the ring to escape her opponent. She wasn't fast herself, and right in that moment she was regretting not being in shape, just like one of her coworkers had recommended her.

—Why don't we pretend you hit me? It's the same result —Y/n tried to convince her.

But another punch flew her way, quickly making her run back to get as far as possible from the tall woman.

—I'll give you fifty bucks —she begged—. Sixty? I can go up to seventy, but that's my limit.

Her negotiation stopped when the first punch laid on her face, making her lose balance and fall to her knees. She thought that the smartest would be not to get up, and stay there until the time passed and the fight was lost on her side, but she received another hit that made her fall to her side.

She forgot where she actually was when she thought that, being on the floor, would stop the other from touching her.

Jungkook saw everything from the crowd, wishing for Peter to have understood his order and done them properly - even feeling tempted to send him a message to confirm he actually did what he was asked.

Until he heard those familiar alarms and all those loud shouts that tried to keep everyone in their places.

It was his sign to run to the ring and run to Y/n.

—Please, tell me I'm dead —she begged when Jungkook made her roll on her body.

Jungkook knew that in her state she wouldn't be able to move properly, and they probably would get caught. Either by the people behind those fights, or by the cops that were running after them. He opted for lifting her body, carrying her up his shoulder to run away from there.

Y/n felt dizzy, finally waking up from her momentary commotion when the chill breeze hitted her exposed arms. She lifted her head from his back, seeing two men running after them, suddenly making her enter a new panic that had her hitting Jungkook's lower back as if she were hitting the loin of a horse.

—Fast, they're catching us —she panicked—. The car isn't that far.

—Why the fuck did you park your car so far? —he complained.

—Exactly because of this —she replied back, trying to lift her body to see him—. Go faster.

After a few seconds that were eternal for the two of them, she finally cheered when she managed to see Allan's car not that far from them. To earn time, he left her on the ground and looked for the bag she had hidden in the bushes to be able to open the car. Jungkook almost threw her on the backseat to not waste time surrounding the car when he heard a thick male voice calling them out, and got on the driver's seat.

The rest of the way back home was in silence, only filled with the roaring of the engine and their shaky breaths as they tried to understand everything that had happened.

—Well, my plan worked out —he sighed, finally able to calm down.

—Your plan? I was the one who gave you the idea.

—You? When? Do you seriously have to take my merit away? —Jungkook complained, taking a quick look at her through the rear view.

—I was the one who gave you the idea. Dick, slang for cops? Just let what happened the last time happen again?

—Who the fuck would've ever thought you were referring to that?

—You, clearly! —Y/n answered back.

—So you think you saved your own ass?

—No, of course not —Jungkook almost smiled when he heard her saying that—. It was teamwork.

—I did all the work —he turned to her—. I thought about it all, I carried you to the car...

—It was sixty, forty.

—You did nothing.

—Alright... Seventy five, twenty five, then.

Jungkook simply sighed at how stubborn she was, deciding not to speak up again until they reached their building. He had been carrying her bag all the way to their places, hanging it up on her neck and making her think they'd separate their ways after the elevator reached their floor.

But his hand on her wrist again stopped her from doing so, guiding her to his apartment.

—I can clean it up —she assured him—. I've actually dealt with this more times than you think.

—Have you seen your face? Just let me do it.

He helped her take the boxing gloves off, throwing them over his couch so she'd have the mobility of her fingers back. While he left, Y/n just shyly moved around the coffee table to take a seat in his leather couch, looking around as if she hadn't been there before.

When Jungkook turned, he sat at the edge of the coffee table, in front of her. Her throat completely shut in surprise when his fingers hooked around the back of her knees, separating her legs and dragging her body to the edge of the couch to pull her closer to him.

She was used to having him so close unprompted. It had been like that since they saw each other for the first time, and that only got worse after the first time they slept together. But, somehow, that night something felt different.

—Thank you for tonight... shhh —she tried to hold back her whine by clenching her teeth together, as he cleaned up the wound on her lower lip.

—I guess this makes up for the spice incident —he sighed.

—How did you know I was there?

—I have ears and eyes everywhere —Jungkook tried to play mysterious, giving a vague answer—. One of the guys I train was there to get familiar with all of that —he finally answered—. But the real question is: what were you doing there?

—I needed to come up with another way to write the article —she justified herself.

—Sure, because letting someone break your face would work so well for it.

—The editor said I needed to make it more personal, and what's more personal than that?

—Are you seriously going to justify it? —Jungkook shook his head in disbelief— Is this only for that article?

Y/n squinted her eyes at that question, trying to understand where he was trying to get with it. Was he actually wondering if she had any other reason to go through all of that?

—Yeah, what else would I be doing all of this for? —she nodded, coming up with the fastest excuse— With this, I was able to see how they choose the fighters, how they get the locations, and how it works —she shrugged—. If you had helped me, I wouldn't have had to do this.

—There you go again blaming me —his eyes rolled while his head was thrown back.

—I'm not blaming you, I'm saying that talking with you was the easy way.

—I was serious, Y/n. Drop it. You don't want to deal with those people —he tried to warn her.

—I know exactly what those people are capable of, I know what I'm getting myself into, and it's exactly why I think I need to go on with the article. Ah! —she complained when he pressed his fingers harder on her wound, moving the cotton coated in alcohol— You're so gentle —she ironically said.

—Oh, sorry. I thought that since you were so tough and brave, you'd be able to handle it.

Her tongue clicked in discomfort, looking him up as he sighed, leaving all the things he had used back on his left.

—I can handle that, but it hurts —she whined, touching the corner of her mouth carefully.

She quickly moved back as she saw him leaning over her way too close, having her looking back confused.

—Didn't you say it hurt? Stay still.

She couldn't explain the way her whole body reacted when the cold air coming out of his mouth in a blow reached her lips. It was as if she was waking up, she could even hear her own hormones boiling by having him so close to her. Jungkook was aware of her gaze, looking at him with such intensity that it was making him nervous.

He was aware of the way she was slowly approaching him, cutting the distance between their lips. And he just let her act. He didn't move back, he didn't move with her, he just waited for her to come his way.

—Shouldn't I be the one rejecting you now? —he whispered, stopping her advance.

—Why do you always have to open your big mouth? —she huffed.

His comment almost made her move back and make her way out of the trap his body and the couch formed, but his hand moved faster, hooking her chin with two of his fingers to cut the small distance that there was left between them.

That first kiss led to another one, that had her wrapping her fingers around his neck and moving closer to him, hanging completely at the edge of the couch. Jungkook groaned when he tasted the metallic taste of her blood mixed with the bitter savor of the alcohol she had used to cure her.

As the tip of her tongue sneakily moved in between his lips, Jungkook supported the weight on his body on each side of her, sinking his knees on the edge of the couch to completely cover his body with his.

He could only hope that wasn't one of his daydream fantasies that had him in more than just one trouble.

A pop sound echoed the four walls of his living room when he broke the kiss to move down her neck, hearing how she took a deep breath when he sucked on that spot between her jaw and throat as he slowly laid her body down against the backrest. His fingers moved the elastic of her black top up, exposing her perking breasts and moving his mouth down as soon as he got the first sight of them.

Y/n wasn't thinking, she slowly allowed him to intoxicate her system so she could allow herself to lose herself to him at least for once. Her back arched when his warm mouth wrapped around one of her nipples, feeling the other tightening painfully as it begged for the same attention from him every time his tongue swirled around the button.

—Have I ever told you how much I love your tits? —his husky voice praised her, sucking on the swollen button one last time before he started moving lower in her torso.

Once his lips reached the elastic of her shorts, she realized the situation she was in, and the little problem she had down there.

—Stop.

Jungkook looked at her confused, making one last move to be sitting on his knees in front of her.

She had been so busy with the article, so focused on anything else but herself, that she didn't worry to keep herself trimmed down there. With any other hook up, she probably would've tried to come up with an excuse or a valid reason to stop it all and try to keep some of the information to herself, but it wasn't like she cared about her image with Jungkook. That rivalry situation they had going on allowed her to not to care about what he could think of her.

—I didn't shave —she stuttered.

Jungkook simply scoffed, feeling even more relaxed after hearing that. If that was the only problem that night, then so be it.

—And do you think I care?

There was no way he'd give up on that chance for something so vain as hair.

His fingers hooked on the elastic of her shorts and her panties, pulling them down her legs and throwing them next to the boxing gloves on the couch. As he kissed her belly, he could smell how aroused she was, sending a message straight to his shaft. He moved his digits through the wet curls, opening her slit with two of his fingers. His cock tightened against his pants at the vision of her leaking pussy, giving it no second thoughts as his tongue moved from her entrance to her clit to get a first taste of her.

A gasp escaped her mouth like she had been holding it for a lifetime, being the first time she opened her mouth, not knowing she wouldn't be able to close it for the rest of the night.

The tip of his tongue traced eight-shaped lines on her clit, getting the first reaction from her. Her fingers sank in his scalp before he changed those movements into small circles and kitten licks that had her hips grinding against his mouth for more.

He was teasing her, testing the waters with her, examining each one of her reactions to know what she liked and what she loved.

—Suck it —she demanded with a heavy voice, turning into a short moan when his mouth captured her swollen button.

Trying to get rid of anything that could limit her movements, Y/n took off the top, sinking deeper on the couch to spread her legs a bit more and focus all of her attention on how his head moved with soft bops in the middle of her thighs.

One of his fingers slid into her, stretching her out for the second finger that would come right after, pounding in and out of her with a lower intensity, decreasing the way he pulled from her clit for a moment before it went back to the way he was doing it. Y/n quickly turned into that moaning mess that made him regret ever wearing those tight black jeans for his night out.

—You look so good keeping your tongue busy —her voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, when his teeth softly trapped her clit.

—And you look so hot when you just moan.

He moved his flat tongue against her bundle of nerves before trapping it again, sucking it in between his lips to flick his tongue from side to side while his fingers kept working inside of her, curling them up to rub against a spot that had her pulling his hair so tight that he was sure he'd rip some locks apart.

Y/n was needy, but not the type to beg. She encouraged him to go on when she was close. He knew it by the way her pussy clenched around his fingers, but he loved the way she slowly lost herself to the pleasure he was giving her. It was like being rewarded with a power she always denied him.

He moved his face away when she cummed for the first time, admiring how perfect her neck looked completely stretched out as her head fell back. But his fingers kept moving, stroking her through her high and demanding another one from her.

His hand was supporting his weight on the backrest, next to her head, where she found another support as her fingers digged on his tattoos. With her digits still hooked on his wrist, his hand to her jaw, forcing her to look at him as her second orgasm approached her.

He never thought seeing that woman so close to the edge would be so satisfying, but she for sure topped his expectations with that naughty look he was giving him back instead of looking away.

She was lost in him, but she still was completely conscious of what was happening and who she was with. As much as she loved what he was doing to her, she loved even more letting him know she was in command just as much as he was. Until her high hit her again fast, enabling all of her senses the few seconds it lasted.

Even if she hadn't recovered yet, and with her legs still trembling, she managed to sit on the couch, reaching for his belt to undo it and just have him the same way he had her just a moment ago.

But Jungkook stopped.

—If you suck me off right now, I'll cum in your mouth and I won't even get to fuck you first —he justified himself.

As he bent over, her hand pulled him closer by his nape, linking their lips together before she started taking that black shirt off.

—Who did you dress so well for? —she teased him, raising her eyebrow when she broke the kiss.

—It's what I wear on Saturday afternoons at home.

Jungkook picked her up easily, as if she weighed nothing, locking his hips with her legs before he kissed her again. His room was the main objective, but he ended up pinning her up against the wall roughly, making her gasp against his lips.

—I need you so bad, 3A —he heavily whispered.

—Then take me to that damned room and fuck me.

Despite cumming two times already, she sounded just as desperate for it to happen as he was, and that was driving him insane.

The mattress squeaked under her when he threw her body onto it, almost ripping his clothes off to get rid of anything that kept him from feeling her directly against his skin. And Y/n did the same, taking off the boxing boots and the socks to drag her body in the middle of those black sheets.

Jungkook's growl filled the room when he finally pounded into her after putting the condom on, feeling how perfectly she wrapped around him, taking him in like he was never meant to spend so much time without filling her.

His movements started slow, trying to get her to get used to him and his size, holding onto her thighs to rub his thumbs on her sensitive skin, before she spoke.

—Go faster —she asked, lifting her hips for him.

He went in faster, and deeper, hitting her hips faster with each thrust, just like she asked him to. That was exactly how she wanted to see her the other night. Her hair spread all over his pillow, her face breaking all of the emotions he was making her feel, her breasts bouncing in sync with the rhythm his hips marked and his cock disappearing in her pussy and coming out completely coated in her juices. His thumb moved further, reaching her clit to rub it in circles and give her the last push she needed to start moaning out loud.

—Fuck, you're so tight, baby —he groaned, just when her walls gulped him in tight.

Jungkook was so annoying, but at the same time was so addictive, that Y/n was sure she'd be thinking about that night for weeks. He moved so deliciously well that it seemed like he wasn't even trying.

—You feel so good —she moaned, feeling her eyebrows sinking on the bridge of her nose.

And when he changed the speed and the angle of his thrusts it was game over for her. Having his tip hitting and stroking that spot made her pull the sheets in her fists, while her eyes went blank. He went in as deeper as their hips allowed him to, slowly pulling out before he moved back in again.

—Do you know you sound better live than when you're just touching yourself? —before she had time to ask him what he was talking about, he pointed with his eyes to the small hole she made on his first weeks there— And every fucking time I have to end up stroking my cock because of you. Aren't you tired of being like this?

She smirked, lifting her body up a little, supporting her weight on her elbows to be closer to his face.

—Maybe that was why I was doing it?

The frustration of not even wanting to find someone outside always left her alone with the thoughts of her neighbor doing the nastiest things to her. And it always ended up with a better orgasm she would have if she had gone out to meet somebody.

Was she too loud to tease him? Most definitely, yes. Just the idea of Jungkook hearing her moans was another push to her orgasm.

—Hmm? Let me show you how you can sound even better, then.

His movements were animalistic, out of control, he was hard and fast, barely allowing her to process anything that wasn't pleasure.

—Touch yourself while I fuck you, honey. Let me see how you do it.

Her fingers rubbed her clit with the same energy his hips collided against her -and that made her think they'd leave a mark the next day. She could feel her juices leaking out with each thrust, only driving her closer to that heavenly place she misses, after being there not even that long ago.

—Jungkook —she moaned his name for the first time.

—Say that again.

—Jungkook —the desperation in her voice made her crack in the middle of his name.

How needy she sounded and looked while his name left her lips gave him that one last push he needed to feel like he was floating. His thrusts started getting sloppier and arrhythmic, but he still pounded into her, twirling his fingers with hers to rub on her swollen clit.

Until she stopped hearing, and sight went blurry, feeling all of the hairs in her body raise as she lost control of herself.

Jungkook fell next to her, trying to gain his calm nature back as he controlled his shaky breathing and his fast heart beating, which only went faster when he looked at the woman next to her. Y/n had her eyes closed, moving her locks away from her face, before she finally opened them.

—Are you going to stay the night?

Y/n frowned, quickly turning to him to confirm whether he was kidding her or not, surprised when he looked completely serious.

—You want me to spend the night here?

He just nodded, looking at her with big brown puppy eyes.

—Did they hit you instead of me? —she looked at him surprised, lifting her upper body to look at him properly.

—Last time you made a scene because I left.

—So it's not because you want me to stay here, but because I called you out the last time? —she squinted her eyes, seeing him nodding again— Do you even know why I got mad?

—Because you look tough, but you're a romantic either way —he smiled—. You need a bit of love. It's alright, I'll give it to you.

Why did he always have to speak?

—It's... Are you serious? —she sat up on the bed.

—You don't need to hide it. You grew a crush on me, which it's totally normal —Y/n could only scoff at what she was hearing—. You were right: I need to be a bit more sympathetic with those who like me.

—Those who like you? Are you going to act like you aren't literally begging for this to happen every two business days?

—You don't need to hide it —he sighed, getting up from the bed.

—I'm not hiding anything! —she raised her voice out of exasperation— Is there a camera filming me? Because I really can't believe you're real.

—Oh, a camera... Next time we should try it —Jungkook winked at her.

—There would be no next time, Jungkook. This is the biggest mistake I could've ever made —she whined.

—Sure, sure. Last time you said the same thing, and see where you ended —he chuckled, acting like she was pretending not to like him—. I'll get cleaned up, you can go later.

When the door clicked with him inside, Y/n huffed, dragging her body out of the bed to pick up all of her clothes and her bag to get out of there. She complained when her feet hit something hard on his pants, feeling tempted to pick them up and throw them against his bathroom door, until he touched it and felt a familiar shape.

She only chuckled when she was able to unlock the phone by just sliding her finger through the screen. Not only did she get three orgasms, and a good night -despite Jungkook's big mouth-, she was also going to get rid of the only thing that kept him from helping her.

Jungkook smiled victoriously when he looked through the peephole to find Y/n completely dressed, wearing a simple t-shirt and tight jeans, while she waited for him to open his door. Her face looked a bit swollen, and there were a few bruises on her cheeks, and the wound on her lip took a darker red color, but she still looked as good as always.

He knew it was a matter of time before she came back.

He understood why she escaped to her place and decided to sleep on her own. He didn't mind seeing his room in silence after he took a quick shower -although it made him feel a bit uncomfortable with himself when he found himself a bit disappointed over not being able to spend the night with her.

—What brings my favorite neighbor here? Do you need a bit of sugar?

—No —she pushed him away, stepping inside his house without asking for permission.

—Come in. Make yourself at home...

—I came to talk about what happened yesterday, but not about what you think.

—So you aren't here to talk about sex? —he guessed, seeing her shake her head— Then what is it about?

—The article —she answered before continuing—. I don't care about that video you have. Post it online, do whatever you want. I need your insight on those fights. You have more to lose than I do if you don't help me...

—I'll do it.

—I knew you'd say that. Check your phone and change your mind... What? —Y/n looked at him confused at that sudden change of mind.

—I said I'd do it.

Seeing the lengths she was going to write that article, Jungkook couldn't just let her deal with it by herself. He knew that the previous night's fight was only a start, and she'd only get deeper in all that world she had no business in.

He had nothing to lose, it didn't cost him anything, and no one would know it was him. He didn't know why that article was that important, or if there was something deeper in all that issue that had her digging for it, but it was something she wouldn't be able to do by herself.

—When you abandoned me yesterday —he accused her, making her roll her eyes—, I had a lot of time to think.

—In the ten minutes it took you to fall asleep?

—How do you know?

—You snort like a bulldog. And that hole not only lets you hear my moans, but also your snoring —she pointed out.

—Anyway —he continued—, I'll be the better person and help you. It'd be a waste not to do it. By the way —he stopped—, why should I check my phone?

—Last night I deleted my video while you were in the shower.

Unbelieving of what she said, Jungkook took his phone out to check by himself that the video was indeed gone from his gallery, making him feel so dumb for not making a copy of it.

—Well, thank you for that —she sighed—. I'll tell you how we'll work on it tomorrow —she smiled widely.

—Wait, are you going? We aren't celebrating? Yesterday we left it at...

—Nowhere. We left it nowhere —she interrupted him.

As she closed the door, Jungkook smiled. She tried to hide it, but he was able to tell how much it excited her to have him agree on something she had insisted on so much. He quickly grimaced at himself, shaking his head and taking himself out of that web of thoughts.

He was doing her a favor to be the bigger person in the future, not because of her. 

Taglist: @jk97bam @ttanniett

[starlightandfairies]

Pain ~Elijah Mikaelson~

Description: Reader's wedding day does not go to plan

Warnings: she/her pronouns, fluff, angst, mild stabbing

Key: Y/N = Your Name, POV = Point of view,

Word Count: 1,354

It was supposed to be a happy day, a really happy day, both you and Elijah were looking forward to getting married. For years you both had been pining for each other, through so many hardships and complications that the supernatural life you were a part of threw at your way. Yet, after dealing with so much and fighting through so much. Here you both are, ready to get married, a day that was meant to be so bloody happy but centuries worth of enemies desired to screw the Mikaelsons over once more. 

The day before the wedding, you were walking around the compound, smiling at the items of your dream wedding that were already being set up in preparation for the next day. You jumped feeling arms snaking around your waist, a tender kiss being placed against your cheek, the familiar scent of your soon-to-be husband feeling your nostrils with delight and joy. 

"My beloved, you look gorgeous." He whispered, smiling instantly once you turned around to face him and wrapped your arms around his shoulders, a blush forming against your cheeks, staring at the man who held your heart and made you feel super safe and cared for more than anyone else in your life. 

"Thank you, my love." You whispered, standing on your tippy toes to rest a soft kiss upon his lips, smiling and patting down his suit to get rid of the crinkles that you just caused. The Original Vampire took your hands, raising them to his mouth and kissed them lovingly. 

"Always looking after me." He whispered, staring at you with admiration and care. 

"Well, the first day that I met you, you screwed yourself over and now you've set a standard for absolute perfection with your clothes and I as your bride-to-be cannot be the one to ruin your lovely suits," Elijah smirked, a lustful look filling his eyes, his hands gripping your hips the slightest bit tighter than before. 

"Well, I would not mind if you were the one to ruin my perfect suits, as you so eloquently put it." Your eyes widened at his comment, his smirk and look indicating to you that you knew exactly where his mind drifted. 

"Elijah!" His chuckle filled your ears, causing you to smile at the sound and shove him lightly. He twirled you around, dancing with you and smiling joyfully as the two of you imagined what tomorrow's happiness would bring your way. Unfortunately, tomorrow would not bring any happiness, the pain that would be felt would be awful and destroy the happiness that was supposed to be coming. 

Elijah left you alone, leaving you to take your spot in the library, reading the book you hadn't touched in a little while due to the chaos that started whenever you seemed to be reading the book. Pain filled your body, wincing, you dropped the book and succumbed to the vervain that was entering your system and the world went black. 

You awoke with your arms chained above your head, your body tired and weak like you had been forced to swim into a pool filled with vervain and the hazy feeling in your entered seemed to be getting more severe the more you acknowledged it. 

Elijah's POV

I entered Y/N's and mine room, expecting to find her in there, only to see a note on her pillow along with a rose. Dread instantly filled my bones, I picked the note up, leaving the rose in its' place and could feel all too many emotions come loose upon realising the reality of my current situation. 

If you want her back, you have three days to come find me and give yourself over to me, if you do not your wife dies. 

"Brother! I've been looking everywhere for you!" Niklaus' voice penetrated my ears, I turned to him, shoving the note into his chest and waited for his reaction. Almost instantly, his eyes darkened, the once joyful smile erased from his lips and his heart set in the place that my mind was currently in. 

"We'll get back, this wedding will happen and you two will be together. You will not give yourself over to these imbeciles that wish to destroy this family." 

2nd Person's POV

"So, you're telling me, that you want my fiance to trade spots with me so you can dress him up like a little doll?" A sob escaped your lips as you were stabbed with a vervain blade right near your heart, heaving you glared at them, trying to channel the pain through anger directed at your captors. 

"Not to play dolls, please! I have more class than that. I just wish to convince my noble son to switch affiliations which will then bring Niklaus along with him and then the others will join." 

Esther voiced her plan, you had to refrain from sighing at the frustration of having to deal with this again after years of being rid of Esther's problems and hijacking. 

"Well, Finn's dead, so there goes your obedient son. Kol has his lovely little witch girlfriend, Davina... which I'm sure you know all about seeing as you knew about my wedding, so he's gonna be useless to you. Freya, well- she hates you so she'll be working her butt off to locate me and help Elijah and Niklaus. Rebekah can't come to the phone right now, oh I would love to see her right but you know since I'm here and you are somehow alive again! We aren't going to get what we want!" 

"You get quite wordy when you're in a panic." She pointed out, seemingly ignoring every word that just escaped your lips in regards to her family and if things would've gone the way they should of, your family. 

Elijah's POV

"We know who has her brother, we know it's our cockroach of a mother coming to ruin our lives, yet again. We'll get Y/N back, alive and you won't need to worry a bit once I destroy our mother for thinking of ruining your chance for happiness." We had been working all day and night to locate Y/N, we had a plan forming and we just needed this to work. 

If everything were to go wrong, I would take her place within a heartbeat, I would not allow the love of my life to die and certainly not at the hands of my mother. Esther will not win, not this time, not even for a moment and with our allied forces, I can hope that we get the win and I get to have my beloved back in my arms in no time. 

Davina, Kol, Marcel, Jackson, Vincent, Hayley, Josh, Niklaus and Freya all had a place in the plan to rescue Y/N from the torture I can surely imagine she's experiencing right now. 

2nd Person's POV

Two days of torture left you limp and close to death. Very briefly, you could hear sounds of battle outside the hole you were trapped in. Esther was having her way, part of you feared that Elijah wouldn't make it in time, that was manipulation due to her screwing with your brain and putting doubt into your mind. 

Feeling hands upon your cheeks, you groaned as your lips were parted and blood forced into your mouth to strengthen you to health. Your eyes met Elijah's, his worried eyes staring into your soul and instantly breaking you free from the chains that held you in place. 

"'Lijah, you came." You whispered, your arms snaking around him and holding onto him for dear life. He was your life force, everything horrible that happened disappeared and he made the pain go away from just holding you securely in your arms and making sure you were free from any curses or things that could screw you over in the near future.  

A month later, you both finally got the wedding day you deserved. 

[laforzadelvoila]

Interlude (Chrollo x Pakunoda)

Notes: I have my own headcanons about the HxH world and its characters and I include them in my fanfics, so I know they maybe be proven untrue in the future, but whatever. Just a warning: there are some descriptions that are a bit violent, they are not graphic or anything, but they might be uncomfortable to read.

I have other ideas to continue this series of Kuropaku fics, but I want to wait for more chapters of the manga to be released because there is some information I would like to know before writing.

Other stories: | Reunion | Contact | Farewell |

“Good morning, young man, how can I help you?” asked the kind old lady who owned the bookstore where Chrollo had entered.

“Good morning, I would like to see books for first-time parents,” he replied, a little embarrassed by the elderly woman’s excited attention.

“Of course! Follow me!” the old woman led him through the vast shelves with impressive agility, as if she knew that huge establishment like the back of her hand, and Chrollo had to hurry to catch up with her. “I’m sure your wife is a very lucky woman!”

The young leader of Phantom Troupe did not bother to correct her and explain that he and Paku were not married and that, considering that, being from Meteor City, neither of them existed on paper and did not have any type of documentation, they would never be able to officially get married at the registry office — although, in the future, the couple could still have a symbolic ceremony.

Suddenly, the decrepit owner of the store stopped, and Chrollo almost bumped into her. She removed a book from the shelf and handed it to the man.

“As a mother of four children and grandmother of ten grandchildren, let me give you some advice,” said the old woman, while Lucilfer leafed through the copy in his hands. “Of course you can be guided by books, but children are not born with a manual; the most important thing is that you need to have the patience to learn from your children and enjoy your time with them, because babies grow up too quickly.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate your wisdom,” Chrollo politely smiled. “And I don't want to be a bother, but do you also have books focused on prenatal care for my wife?”

“Oh, it’s not a bother at all, on this same shelf there’s a great book that I recommend on the subject,” the woman happily shook his hand and went ahead to look for the book. Chrollo was perfectly aware of the power that simply being a handsome and friendly man had over people, that elderly woman was so enchanted by his manners that she hadn’t even noticed that he didn’t have a wedding ring.

The elderly woman quickly returned and extended the other book towards Chrollo, who accepted it cordially.

“I am very grateful for your help, I was lucky to find someone so erudite like you,” he thanked, with the two books in his hands, already imagining what the answer to his next question would be. “How much should I pay for these two?”

“Don’t worry about it, consider it a gift for you and your wife,” the kind lady waved.

As he left the store and headed to the rented apartment where he had been living for the last few weeks, Chrollo smiled to himself, remembering what he had learned as a teenager that the best thieves don’t even need to steal to get what they want.

Inside his apartment, the man left the books on the kitchen table and with the remote control in hand, he turned on the small television in the living room, sitting in the comfortable armchair while he searched for the news channel.

“Things are bad in Yorknew City: both elites and ordinary citizens are panicked by the constant shootings and fights between rival factions that intend to take control of the Underworld’s base of operations since the massacre on the night of September 3rd from last year, which culminated in the death of the Ten Dons,” the eloquent presenter of the program announced. “The police refuse to comment on the matter, but we know that the global mafia is collapsed—”

Chrollo switched channels, satisfied, removing the bandage that hid the tattoo on his forehead. Unbalancing the hierarchy of the mafias that exploited Meteor City was one of the Troupe’s objectives with the Underground Auction robbery, but there was still a lot of work to be done — not only because eventually the structure of the mafia community would be remade, but also because there were still criminal syndicates operating in other countries, some even with unofficial support from their respective governments. The important thing is that the Spiders should always be ready to eliminate and take revenge on any threats to Meteor City.

Colorful lights filled the TV screen, starting a new episode of Power Cleaners, making Chrollo sit up straight in his seat. There was a channel that, at that time, showed old anime, and although he recognized that there were other cartoons with better writing, Power Cleaners would always be one of his favorites out of pure nostalgia.

At the beginning of this episode, the Red and Pink Cleaners were on what appeared to be a date, and Chrollo was surprised to notice the resemblance between the Red Cleaner and one of Chain Bastard’s friends, that strange boy dressed in green who asked him how the leader of Phantom Troupe was capable of killing people who had nothing to do with him.

The question left him stunned, not only by the child’s uncomfortable innocence, which reminded him too much of his own painful past, but also by the fact that he himself wasn’t sure what the right answer would be. Chrollo chose his words carefully at the time, deciding to be purposely vague, guessing that the boy wouldn't understand him properly anyway.

“I don’t know. It might be because they have nothing to do with me”, was his reply. Thinking about it, this was a way of thinking that he and his friends had learned since childhood: no one in the world cared about Meteor City, about what mafias and vile attackers did to the inhabitants of that place, which served as a garbage dump whose existence was unknown to the majority of the population; why, then, should the outcasts living in Meteor City care about the rest of the world?

In fact, it reminded him of when The Chain Bastard asked Chrollo and Pakunoda why he should have mercy for their child, when they had no mercy for the children of Kurta clan. At that moment, the dark-haired man thought that Paku and the baby were doomed, but Kurapika decided not to curse her with the Judgment Chain and just continue with the hostage exchange. He wondered what the Bastard’s thought process had been like.

Would his future son or daughter like Power Cleaners? The random thought that occurred to him was just one of the thousands of doubts, some more serious than others, that he had been having since he found out he was going to be a father. For example, he liked to think about who the baby would look more like, him or Paku; he was also curious about how the rest of the Troupe would interact in their presence; about what the child would think about them and about the world in general.

It was strange how he felt a connection with someone who hadn’t even been born yet, but perhaps it wasn’t that surprising, after all, Chrollo had always been very protective and attentive towards his bonds — everything he had done in life was to, in one way or another, protect those he loved and his homeland; it couldn’t be different with his own child.

A shiver ran down his spine. What about Uvogin? What about the other members of The Spider who had died over the years? Not even his unwavering dedication had been able to save them, so what right did he have to talk about preserving his bonds when he had failed in his primary duty as leader? It was entirely possible that one of their enemies would threaten his unborn child and he wouldn’t be able to prevent the worst.

Chrollo had years of practice hiding his anxiety, so any outside observer would just think he was calmly focused on the television, but dark thoughts and fears flooded his mind full of eternal contradictions.

It couldn’t all be in vain. Since he was a child, he had been destined to be the savior of Meteor City, that’s what the elders had told him during his childhood: being a prodigy with talent and a miraculous mind, Chrollo needed to find a solution to their problems. Now, as an adult, he could understand the kind of unfair pressure that those old man, who didn’t really make relevant changes to improve their land, were putting on him; however, he still felt responsible for Meteor City, for what happened to Sarasa, for what happened to Uvogin…

Interestingly, Chrollo never intended to be a leader, it just happened. Even when their Troupe was just a group of kids dubbing anime, perhaps precisely because he took the initiative to start that activity in the first place, the others naturally treated him as the director, and in practice he actually started directing them. After Sarasa’s funeral, after explaining to Uvogin his plan to avenge the dead girl and prevent something like this from happening again, he asked the older boy to lead them, but Uvo refused: “Chrollo, you will lead us. And with you as our leader, I will follow you until I die.”

Uvogin. Shalnark. Nobunaga. Franklin. Machi. Phinks. Feitan. Pakunoda. They all swore to follow him, trusting their lives to him. Chrollo accepted the responsibility of guiding them, and later the next members of the Troupe, to defend Meteor City and be the world’s greatest villains.

Chrollo closed his eyes tightly, his head spinning. He feared he was more sensitive after Uvogin’s death and the fact that he was going to be a father, which was probably why he felt so disoriented and distressed. He would need to be more careful from now on, at the moment he would have to stay away from the Troupe, including Paku, like a real dead weight.

After the events of the night of September 4th, he had temporarily settled in a city on the eastern coast of the Yorbian Continent, where he had established an agreement with Hisoka: the infamous Spider traitor would negotiate with a Nen exorcist from Greed Island who would remove the Judgment Chain from Chrollo’s heart, and in return, the head of Phantom Troupe would fight the magician.

Greed Island was a prestigious and extremely rare game, which could only be played on the outdated JoyStation console, but luckily, Chrollo already had these items in his collection as a result of past thefts. He smiled as he remembered Paku and Machi calling him a “nerd” for keeping these objects and not even using them, but finally they would be useful.

Hisoka was on Greed Island looking for the exorcist, but he himself had already warned that the mission could easily take months. Chrollo would wait patiently, though he hoped the exorcism would happen in time so he could witness the birth of his child.

When he lifted his eyelids again, he saw the credits rolling on the screen. He was so focused on his internal restlessness that he hadn’t paid attention to the cartoon, which had already finished. He turned off the television and stood up, rubbing his eyes. Chrollo looked to the side, viewing the bookcase where the JoyStation console rested on the top, and on the bottom shelf was his manga collection next to his loyal Holy Bible.

He had owned the same beautiful bound copy of the Bible since his youth, which he had received from Father Lisores when the boy first left Meteor City to complete his training journey. The young prodigy had already read the Bible before, but after Sarasa’s death and deciding the path he would follow for the rest of his life, he began to cultivate a new interpretation and philosophy of its teachings.

In Yorknew, Chrollo commented to Uvo that he did not consider Judas Iscariot a traitor, but did not elaborate on his position. His unpopular belief was the result of his axiom that people are just actors in a play with an already defined destiny: in his interpretation, Judas betrayed Jesus not for his own benefit, but out of devotion, understanding Christ’s role in returning and becoming the savior of humanity — one of the reasons why Chrollo didn’t resent Paku for betraying The Spider.

He himself was following a role that, although not ideal, was the one he was destined to assume: the role of The Devil, the reason he adopted the surname “Lucilfer”, much to the chagrin of the parish priests. The radical change of the little boy so devoted to the Church was related to a secret that he never shared with anyone else, not even with Pakunoda or the other Spiders.

When he closed his eyes, he was easily transported back to that dark and rainy forest, the weight of the bag that was hanging from the tree branch falling into his arms, making him lose his balance and fall to the wet ground, the desperate screams of his friends, the putrefied stench that hit his face when he opened the bag, the sight of the blood and torn limbs of a little girl who, until then, had been smiling so full of life. And that note.

Even at that time, Chrollo already knew that there were bad people in the world. But that was the first time he discovered the level at which human perversity could reach. It was also when he discovered, reading those terrible words, that there were things much worse than death; Sarasa meant nothing to her killers, she was just an object to relieve their disgusting sadistic fantasies, they clearly enjoyed the pain and suffering that the poor girl certainly felt when being subjected to such brutality — the detailed descriptions traumatized the little boy, in disbelief how someone could reach such a level of creativity just to destroy the body and mind of an innocent child.

The final two sentences of the note, however, were the ones that left the most horrible impression on him, the first being the one that led him to devise a plan to capture Sarasa’s killers: This was our greatest work of art. Chrollo had always loved all types of art, being horrified by what such a distorted perspective of “art” looked like, and the fact that his friend had to be a victim so those bastards could perform their horrendous “art”.

The last part, however, was what forever changed the future of him, his friends, Meteor City and the entire world, altering Chrollo’s way of seeing life and himself: Only the Devil can judge us.

What horrible sin could someone commit that not even God is able to judge them, a task that needs to be passed on to the figure of primordial evil? The boy now knew, having witnessed it with his own eyes.

If only the Devil could judge them, Chrollo decided, then he would be the personification of Lucifer, so that when he found Sarasa’s killers and all those who victimized Meteor City, he could condemn them on Judgment Day.

Since that day, the leader of Phantom Troupe came to understand that the Devil, antagonizing God, also had his own role.

~ ✥ ~

“Hey, Paku, look what arrived in the mail,” Machi entered the room carrying a package in hand.

Pakunoda turned her head, the pink-haired woman handing her the package whose surface only contained the recipient’s address, without any information about the sender — which meant it was a gift from Chrollo, who had avoided writing more than necessary so that it wouldn’t count as direct communication.

The chalet where Paku was living during her pregnancy was a modest refuge lost in the middle of Gordeau Desert, on the remote outskirts of Yorknew, where the Troupe had met a few times in the past, and certainly the best of the group’s hideouts where she could rest safely and prepare to give birth.

Chrollo correctly deduced that this was where Pakunoda was taking shelter, so last month, at Christmas, he had sent a huge box, with no dedication or details about the sender, full of gifts for her and the rest of The Troupe, including countless baby products.

Machi often came to visit Paku, bringing her food and news about the search for the Nen exorcist, who was on Greed Island. Chrollo had hired Hisoka, who was being accompanied by members of Phantom Troupe, to negotiate with the exorcist who would remove the Judgment Chain from the heart of the Spider’s head. No one in the Troupe trusted Hisoka, of course, not after he deserted the group and revealed to Pakunoda that he lied about the prediction he had received and gave information about them to The Chain Bastard. However, at that moment, they were working together towards a common goal, although for different reasons.

It was already January, Paku was five months pregnant, her belly was beginning to show visibly. The child would be born in May, and she really hoped that Chrollo could be by her side during the birth, which would be carried out in the chalet by Machi, the Troupe’s healer.

Pakunoda tore off the wrapping paper, seeing a large book about prenatal care for pregnant women. She smiled, in a rare moment of lightness, almost forgetting all the worries she had been accumulating over all those years; even though she was a young woman, she felt as if she had already lived to exhaustion.

Like her friends, after Sarasa’s death, the cheerful and even hopeful child that was Paku closed herself in her own bubble of suffering and cynicism, taking on the role of a ruthless thief and killer. She hated to admit it, but the truth is that, at the very beginning, despite having sworn to follow Chrollo and join the newly formed Troupe, the idea of ​​descending in such a spiral of darkness scared her a lot — however, believing in the cause of The Spider, she dedicated years to training her Nen and developing her abilities.

During her training, the restriction she chose for herself involved never again touching the person she loved most — in this case, Chrollo. Forcing herself to physically and, in a certain way, also emotionally distance herself from him was her way of proving her dedication and enhancing her skills, desperately seeking to help and be useful to Phantom Troupe.

It was impressive how that weak and skinny girl had become such a strong and lethal woman in a matter of a few years, although her greatest contribution to the group was her very rare skills and not her physical strength strictly speaking. She was willing to give her life to the Spider for what it meant for her: defending her bonds and her homeland.

That night, so many years ago, when those desolate children of Meteor City discovered the remains of their dear friend Sarasa, Paku remembers falling to her knees on the muddy ground, covering her mouth in sobs and tears, even before that terrible bag was opened: she had already understood what had happened. It didn’t take long for the girl’s crying to evolve into a loud scream of pain, feeling completely helpless as she tightly hugged an also crying Sheila. Why did an innocent child like Sarasa have to suffer so much? Why did the inhabitants of that place have to be so vulnerable to such vile people? Why didn’t anyone there protect them?

Despite her initial insecurity, there was no doubt about which path Pakunoda should take: she trusted Chrollo more than anyone, and he was right about the need to do something about what happened. However, the girl thought that she would never have the courage to actually take someone’s life, even if she had trained with the revolver countless times, until the day she killed for the first time — and realized, astonished, that she hadn’t felt anything, not even adrenaline or regret; it had been just another performance in her role.

She had also promised herself that she would not allow herself to cry or show her emotions so openly again. It was silly, but she felt like she couldn’t afford to expose herself like that as a member of Phantom Troupe, so she adopted a cold and indifferent facade, even though she was still a sensitive person inside.

Since the trauma of her childhood, Paku had not believed that she would ever be truly happy. She had moments of temporary tranquility and euphoria, like after successful robberies or simple relaxed conversations with other members, but she always felt a worry, an anxiety always alert in her chest, the weight of the responsibility she had accepted to assume and the weight of her corrupted soul constantly haunting her.

However, when, months ago, Paku was able to touch Chrollo again after he borrowed her abilities, the woman felt something like a slight inner peace, and after discovering she was pregnant weeks later, she almost felt as if she could be a normal person like anyone else — even if it was a merely illusory perspective that she never expected to actually pursue.

Pakunoda caressed her belly, happy because she was going to have a child and, despite knowing she wasn’t a good person, she hoped to at least be a good mother.

“Have you dreamed about the baby again?” asked Machi, interrupting her thoughts.

Thanks to her Psychometry, Paku began to have access to the thoughts of the child growing inside her, although they were not cohesive or developed enough to make sense, sometimes when she slept her dreams seemed to take place in the darkness of her own womb, and although she wasn’t sure those images were figments of her imagination or truly samples of her skill, it was still strangely bizarre and fascinating.

“Yes, but you know I don't like talking about it, it's a little too weird,” replied Pakunoda. “And, I could be wrong, but I’m almost sure it’s a girl.”

“This is wonderful!” Machi exclaimed, giving one of her rare genuine smiles. “Me, Kortopi, Franklin and Shizuku bet that the baby would be a girl, Nobunaga, Phinks, Feitan, Bono and Shalnark bet that it would be a boy.”

“So how much did you four win from the bet?” smiled Paku.

“Two hundred jenny each,” said the woman proudly, crouching down to talk to her friend’s belly. “Thank you, little one!”

It was amusing how the serious and ruthless Machi Komacine was joyful with Paku and Chrollo’s future firstborn: in addition to helping the pregnant woman, she had also been knitting clothes and stuffed animals for the child. The other members of the terrifying Phantom Troupe were also quite protective of their friends’ baby, acquiring (in other words, stealing) gifts and making sure Pakunoda was safe and calm.

“And how is the new member of The Troupe?” Paku wanted to know, referring to Kalluto Zoldyck, who had recently joined The Spiders, replacing Hisoka. Kalluto was only ten years old, and even though he was the youngest of a famous family of professional assassins, he was still just a child.

“He has helped us a lot, the boy has a lot of potential,” said Machi.

“It’s good to know,” commented the blonde. She didn’t know if it was because of the events in Yorknew or because of those stupid pregnancy hormones, but for some reason Paku had been feeling more sensitive lately.

Pakunoda definitely didn’t want the pregnancy and the childbirth to weaken her in any way, she wasn’t in a position to become a useless burden to The Troupe and, being a woman in the criminal world, she couldn’t show herself vulnerable under any circumstances. Paku and Chrollo would have to step away from criminal activities for a while, but then they would return to work while taking care of their daughter — who, she hoped, could live in peace in Meteor City without having to take the same path as her parents, although the most likely was that the child would have to learn how to defend herself.

The woman had many hopes for her daughter, the main one being that she could have a less tragic existence than theirs. The members of Phantom Troupe, as their name suggested, spent their entire lives feeling as if they were disposable ghosts, only being relevant to the world when they spread chaos, and Paku wanted her daughter to find a meaning to her own life that didn’t involve such self-destruction.

The problem is that Paku knew that there were many reasons why her daughter would need to be careful: they had made too many enemies over the years, and even though the underworld knew the risks of messing with someone from Meteor City, there would still be those looking for revenge; the Troupe’s work kept many hostile groups away from Meteor City, but it also ended up attracting others that were just as dangerous; as Chrollo and Paku did not officially exist, their daughter was also doomed to be born as an invisible human being, with all the consequent risks and injustices that this brings.

Pakunoda insistently tried to push all these negative and distressing thoughts out of her head. At times like these, the only thing that helped her clear her mind was to practice target shooting furiously with her pistol, something she had avoided doing in recent months due to her pregnancy.

She was torturing herself for nothing, she tried to reflect; both Paku and Chrollo would protect their daughter to the death if necessary, and she would also have the blessing of the other members of The Troupe and Meteor City itself. Not to mention that, being the daughter of two powerful Specialists, the girl would certainly have the potential to make anyone who got in her way deeply regret it.

Paku wondered if, at that very moment, Chrollo was also feeling as tormented as she was, and knowing him so well, she could easily assume so. Even though the couple were so far apart, the woman consoled herself with the faith that they would eventually meet again, this time as a small family.

“I’m going to return to the Troupe’s hideout to see how things are going, if you need anything, call me,” Machi warned, serious, helpful as always.

“Thank you, don’t bother with me,” Paku was still a little embarrassed with the other Spiders treating her with so much concern and care.

After Machi left, Pakunoda decided to take a nap — her pregnancy had been leaving her exhausted —, her mood constantly fluctuating between melancholy and hope.

Suddenly, she felt a discreet jolt inside her: it was the baby moving. It was always very surreal and wonderful when this happened, it made her think about how her daughter was not a concept or a ghost but, rather, a future person who would have dreams, joys, sadness, and her own life story.

Over the past few months, Paku continued to keep an eye on news about the underworld, including the bloody faction fights in Yorknew and any activities involving Meteor City, to keep in mind what the Phantom Troupe’s next steps should be — and criminals who fell into the Spider’s web would be promptly torn apart by the merciless arachnid, and the thieves’ future daughter would be safe.

Phantom Troupe, despite their sinister reputation, also performed acts of charity in Meteor City, including helping orphaned children, moments when The Spiders allowed themselves to be kinder — although some members, such as Phinks, Feitan and Machi, didn’t know how to act properly in front of the contagious innocence of the little ones —, and seeing those children in better conditions than the ones they grew up in, alongside the recent development of Meteor City aided by the work of The Troupe, was the reason why they kept fighting.

(In fact, remembering how affectionate and attentive Chrollo and Paku acted towards the children of Meteor City made her think that, after all, maybe the two would really be good parents. Not to mention that they were already practically the “parents” of Phantom Troupe, the other members constantly looking for their guidance and orders, in addition to the efforts of the couple to bring order to such a diverse and chaotic group.)

The simple fear that something like what happened to Sarasa could happen to their daughter was more than enough to justify their continued loyalty to The Troupe. The fruit of the love between Chrollo and Paku would represent their hope for a peaceful and happy future for all of them and Meteor City.

[hibischush]

a shipment of flowers

description; Adeline is reminded of what happened between her and the farmer the previous day.

notes; I told y'all I'd be posting. Enjoy🌺💗

word count; 878

warnings; references to The Princess Bride; minor in-game spoilers (festival)

Her head is throbbing. 

Adeline sighs as she slams her fountain pen down on her file-covered desk. Normally, the leader-in-waiting enjoys the thoroughness of official papers. With the New Year’s Eve celebration coming up, she had been busy ordering supplies for the manor and planning for small activities for the townsfolk to partake in at the party. Recently, however, she’s found it hard to focus with her slothful mind always stumbling back to the farmer. 

The farmer, for whom all they do, still finds the time to sit down and have tea with her. The farmer, despite having an endless list of arduous tasks, of which require thousands of tesserae, seemingly set aside the budget to give Adeline peaches & cream once every week to “celebrate her many accomplishments.”

They will do almost everything that she asks of them. 

And every time, speaking quietly enough for only Adeline to hear, they whisper:

“As you wish.”

It’s that very phrase that makes her knees weak. 

Maybe it’s been a while since Adeline has thought of pursuing someone romantically-- she ascertains that she pushes away the feelings as she hasn’t yet known the farmer for a year, and she’s not even certain they return said feelings. However, with the gentle sprinkling of snow against the window of her office, it reminds her that a year is coming up. And it has become much, much harder to mask her feelings.

She begrudgingly recalls the previous day when the farmer made their usual rounds to the manor, stopping by her office with the sweetest grin gracing their features. The bite of winter frost made the tips of their nose and round of their cheeks a pleasant pink. Bundled up in winter attire, Adeline didn’t think it was possible to be more endearing, but her most trusted ally had a way of surprising her.

“Lady Adeline, I’ve completed your request for the shipments of Poinsettias,” They exclaimed, unwrapping their snow-flecked scarf to reveal their face, “you just give me the signal for when you want me to ‘deck the halls’ for the party, so to speak.”

Looking up from her mass of papers, she sighed dejectedly, “I told you to call me Adeline,” she shook her head with a gentle grin. “Thank you, though. I believe they will bring some much-needed color to the foyer and ballroom.”

Even if Adeline said nothing of importance of all, the farmer permanently held a sparkle in their eyes as she talked to them. Maybe her sleep deprivation was getting to her, though. Were those snowflakes on their eyelashes?

Perhaps she was staring too long in silence, because the farmer looked down bashfully. Her face heated. Did she make it awkward?

“It would be rude if I said otherwise, Lady Adeline,” and before the baroness could scoff and repeat her wishes more firmly, the farmer continued, “I also came to gift you this…”

The farmer shyly revealed a bouquet-- jasmine, crocus, snapdragon, and even a few twigs of plum blossom, all wonderfully arranged and wrapped in a pink paper and tied together with a white ribbon. 

Adeline could feel her breath get caught in her throat as her face refused to cool down. A bouquet? Flowers, specifically a few that the farmer knew she liked? For a moment, it felt like time stopped, with only her erratic heartbeat pounding in her ears. This was a romantic gesture, was it not? A few moments had passed, but it felt like an eternity. She needed to respond.

“I--I don’t even know what to say! But in a good way. Not in a bad way! It would never be in a bad way with you-- it’s always perfect. You’re just perfect--”

Oh my god. Bad. Bad response.

She mentally slapped her forehead. Did her years of speech lessons not teach her how to speak eloquently? She didn’t even know it was possible to blush more, she thought nervously, wringing her clammy hands together to compose herself.

The farmer’s face was red as well (from the cold or from second-hand embarrassment, she wasn’t sure), but they still had a comforting smile on their face.

She cleared her throat, gently taking the bouquet in an embarrassingly robotic manner. She brought them closer to her face (totally not to hide from shame, that would be undignified), the sweet fragrance wafting in the air. 

“Thank you. They are beautiful.”

Their smile softened more, their eyes pouring into Adeline’s. “Of course. I’m glad you like them,”

They kept their gaze on her for another moment, perhaps maybe a second longer than they should have. With one last tick from the clock on her wall, they turned to leave.

“Well, it’s always a pleasure, Lady Adeline.” She shivered, and clutched the bouquet tightly.

Adeline panicked. 

“Wait!”

They looked back with a curious tilt of the head.

“You will be attending the New Year's Eve party, won’t you?” She said quietly, with a desperate amount of hope, she might add.

They took a second to formulate a response, looking to the ground for an answer. With a breath, they set their gaze confidently back on her. “Do you wish me to attend?”

She swallowed thickly. 

“I expect you to attend, dear farmer.” They grinned, “As you wish.”

I started writing this a few months ago after watching the Princess Bride. I hope y'all like it, even if this one is a bit self-indulgent lol. I just got the time to play fom yesterday and I missed it sm. Over break, I should be posting more, so stay tuned!

[beskars]

ichthyological studies; chapter two

pairing: silco x reader, modern au rating: mature word count: 3.7k warnings: swearing, detailed description of silco's hands [ao3] [dividers: @saradika] [beta: @avarkriss]

“Well, if everything is in order, I won’t take up anymore of your time for today,” he said, tucking his pen back into his overcoat. “Thank you for your assistance—”

He stopped abruptly, and you realized you hadn't ever given him your name. Offering it in response, you extended your free hand. His palm met yours - cool and dry, his grip precise like everything else about him. You found yourself noting how his hands possessed a particular grace that would be challenging to capture on paper - the elegant architecture of bone and tendon, the way each movement seemed carefully choreographed. The kind of hands that would require dozens of studies to get right, and even then you might not quite capture the eloquence of their controlled motion.

chapter two: the elegant architecture of bone and tendon Undeterred by your failure as a handyman, you wrapped up your work for the day and began setting up your classroom, greeting students as they began to trickle in and took places behind their respective easels. You were just about to begin a brief lecture on the techniques you would be focusing on for that evening’s assignment when the studio door opened, admitting a sharp-featured girl with two waist length blue braids. She clutched a sticker-adorned sketchbook to her chest almost protectively, chewing nervously on her lower lip as all eyes turned toward her. 

“Hi,” you said brightly, taking a small step toward her. “Are you here for class?” 

She nodded, and you gestured to the unclaimed easel closest to her.

“You can set up right here,” you told her, relieved to see the tension in her shoulders dissipate slightly as the rest of the class fell into conversation while she settled in.

After making sure she had all the supplies she needed, you introduced yourself, urging her to let you know if she had any questions.

“I’m glad to have you here—” you broke off uncertainly, realizing you hadn’t caught her name.

Her mouth quirked up in a fleeting smile so similar to her father’s that you were entirely unsurprised when she told you,

“It’s Jinx.”

Well, you could hardly hold the fact that her dad was one of the most pompous and insufferable men you had ever had the misfortune of dealing with against her, so you managed an echo of her expression in response, hoping it didn’t look too forced.

“Great to meet you, Jinx,” you said, before returning to the front of the classroom, wondering all the while if you were going to have to see him again before the day was over. 

The scratch of graphite on paper echoed in the quiet studio as you demonstrated the techniques utilized in that evening’s greyscale exercise, the familiar smell of pencil shavings and that particular dusty warmth that space heaters always produced filling the air. Once the class was immersed in their work, you slumped into your desk chair, pulling up your dreaded to-do list to see what was left. Resigning yourself to another late night of working on commissions to supplement the meager salary you took from the center, now made later by the addition of Valeria Stormweaver, you contemplated sleeping in your office to avoid wasting time on the commute back to your apartment. As long as you were up early enough to make a trip back home to shower and change before Ava showed up, you would be able to spare yourself from being lectured on the dangers of overworking yourself. And, as a bonus, you wouldn’t have to worry about running into Creepy Craig in the hallway, where he seemed to habitually linger in hopes of trapping you in stilted conversation. Mind made up, you tucked your phone back into your pocket and started to weave through the easels, pausing to offer feedback and encouragement to each student on their progress so far. You paused behind Jinx's workstation, impressed by how she'd approached the value study. The piece was strikingly monochromatic, showing a careful attention to light and shadow in the suggested form of the vase, transformed into something far more complex with intricate textural details. She turned to look at you apprehensively, awaiting your assessment, and you offered her a reassuring smile before inspecting the drawing closer.

“I love this,” you told her softly. “The sense of depth in the material of the vase is really well done, especially the highlights here.”

“Really?” she replied, perking up slightly. “I don’t usually do stuff like—” she broke off, waving her hands in the general direction of the easel, “this.”

“What, greyscale?” you asked, and she shrugged.

“Greyscale, still life stuff,” she said, returning her pencil to the drawing pad. “Actually, most of my work is kinda the opposite of this. But I want to get better at some of the more traditional techniques.”

You watched as she added a few decisive strokes to the piece, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

“Well, you’re off to a great start, even if this isn’t your usual style,” you responded earnestly, “which I would love to see, too.”

“I could show you some of my sketchbook after class,” Jinx nodded enthusiastically, “if that’s okay? I mean, if you have time?”

“I’d love that,” you replied, meaning it, and she offered you a small smile in return. 

“Cool,” she said, and you smiled back.

“I’ll let you get back to it. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” you told her, and she gave you a thumbs up before her brows drew together in concentration, her full focus returning to her work.

You made another quick circuit of the room before returning to your desk, trusting that your students were comfortable enough to ask for your help if they needed it, and let them continue to progress on their studies as you pulled up Procreate to start on one of the commissions in your queue. The rough sketch was nearly complete by the time you glanced at your phone again, startled to see class was nearly over, and you stood, grimacing at how stiff your upper back muscles felt after spending so much of the day hunched over screens. As students began to pack up their work, returning the materials they had used in the shelves along the wall, you thanked each of them for coming and reminded them of the following evening’s open studio hours for anyone that wanted to work on projects outside of class. Jinx lingered by the storage area as you finished up, inspecting the supplies with mild interest, waiting until you had paused beside your desk to approach.

“I love the stickers,” you said as she set her sketchbook down, giving you a quick smile before opening it and indicating that you were free to look.

Each page was densely packed, most of them centered around a realistically rendered focal point before exploding into wild interpretations, each piece a riot of colors—​​neons bleeding into jewel tones in ways that shouldn't work but somehow did. She had been right that the exercise that evening was the antithesis of her signature style, but you could see the technical proficiency she had displayed in the rendering of the vase evident in the rest of her work as well. You were about to tell her as much when there was a single, sharp knock on the doorframe, causing the words to stick in your throat when you saw who was standing in the hall.

“I’m almost done,” Jinx told her father, who nodded once in response to her and once in acknowledgment when he glanced at you. 

Her earlier apprehension returning, Jinx watched you closely for a reaction, teeth worrying at her lower lip again.

“Jinx, these are amazing,” you said enthusiastically, turning a page and taking in the next piece for a moment. “They kind of remind me of Marina Velcroft’s work, the way you combine these more structured pieces with all of these graffiti-style elements. Your color choices are even more unconventional though, which I love.”

She gave you a shy but pleased smile, gathering up her sketchbook as you came to a blank page. 

“Thanks,” she replied softly. “I don’t think I’ve heard of her.”

“I think you’d really like her work,” you told her, “I have one of her books here if you want to borrow it.”

She nodded. “That would be awesome.”

“Great,” you smiled, doing your best to ignore the man leaning against the doorframe as you made your way to the storage shelves, running your finger over the spines of the book collection until you found what you were looking for. “Here,” you said, offering it to Jinx. 

“An unauthorized collection of street art & sundry works, compiled & commented upon by the artist,” she read aloud from the cover, flipping it open to a random page and scrutinizing it for a moment before hugging it to her chest with her sketchbook. “This looks really cool. Thank you.”

“Of course,” you responded. “We have open studio tomorrow night if you want to come work on anything. There aren’t any assignments like in class but I’m always happy to help come up with projects if you don’t have something in mind.”

She nodded excitedly before seeming to realize something and turning to look at her father, whose angular features softened slightly as he returned her gaze.

“Can I?” she asked, and he inclined his head fractionally.

“Of course,” he told her, sounding almost indulgent, and she beamed. 

“Great!” you exclaimed, grabbing a copy of the center schedule from your desk and handing it to her. “All of our other classes are listed there, too. And some upcoming field trips we have planned.”

She scanned the sheet of paper eagerly before proferring it to her father, who gave it a cursory look and murmured his thanks in your general direction, not bothering to make eye contact.

“Thanks!” Jinx echoed, much more enthusiastically. “See you tomorrow!”

“See you then,” you replied before adding, “great work tonight.”

She smiled at you once more and slipped past her father into the hallway, seemingly oblivious to the way he lingered on the threshold.

“I’ll be right there,” he called toward her retreating back, though she gave no indication that she had heard him.

He turned back to you, traces of fond exasperation quickly giving way to an impassivity as he met your gaze.

“So,” you said, growing uncomfortable as his silence stretched on. “I suppose we should be flattered that you chose us over the Piltover Academy for the Fine Arts.”

The words came out sounding more irritable than you intended, exhaustion fraying your patience.

“Jinx chose you,” he corrected coolly, “and I will respect her decision regardless of whether it’s the same one I would have made.”

“How charitable of you,” you commented dryly, crossing your arms over your chest. “So was there something I could do for you or did you just want to make sure I knew we weren’t your first choice?”

The corner of his mouth curved up slightly, though there was no warmth in it. 

“I know you’re quite… lax in how things are structured here,” he replied smoothly, pausing just long enough to give you time to take affront, “but I assumed there would be some sort of paperwork for me to fill out in order for Jinx to be formally enrolled.”

"There is," you told him, moving to your desk to retrieve a single sheet of paper, "though we’ve intentionally kept it pretty simple. Or lax , as you put it. Basic contact information, emergency numbers, any allergies or medical conditions we should know about. That's it."

You held out the form but didn't release it when he took it, making him meet your eyes. "We don't require guardian signatures or proof of residence or financial documents. The center is meant to be accessible to everyone, regardless of their situation."

The implications hung in the air - that some students might not have guardians to sign, or stable addresses to list, or the means to provide financial records.

"I see," he said after a moment, sounding remarkably less haughty than he had moments before. "That's...unconventional." "Yeah, well," you shrugged as you let go of the form, returning to lean against your desk. "Our attorney probably wanted to strangle me by the end of the process. I kept pushing back on every requirement, asking what was actually legally necessary versus what was just... traditional bureaucracy." 

He considered you, a flicker of interest in his expression. "You deliberately sought out the minimum legal requirements."

"The absolute minimum," you confirmed. "I'm sure it's not up to Piltover's exacting standards of documentation."

His mouth curved slightly again, and this time there might have been a hint of genuine amusement in it. "No, I suppose not. Though perhaps that's not entirely a criticism."

You found yourself caught off guard by what almost seemed like approval in his tone.

"Well," you said after a beat, falling back on professional courtesy, "just return that whenever is convenient. Jinx is welcome to start attending classes immediately."

He studied the form for a moment before reaching into his jacket and withdrawing a pen. To your surprise, he moved to your desk and began filling it out right there.

"Silco," he told you as he wrote, and you blinked at him.

"What?"

"My name," he clarified, not looking up from the form. "Since we'll likely be seeing more of each other, given Jinx's...enthusiasm about your program."

“Right,” you replied stupidly, floundering for a moment. “Well, I’m really looking forward to having her here. She’s incredibly talented.”

“She is,” he murmured as he handed the form back to you. 

His tone was devoid of the sort of proud arrogance you would have expected from him in response to such a remark, and you found yourself grudgingly appreciative that he didn’t seem to take any credit for her abilities, as so many parents were wont to do. It would have seemed like a neutral observation were it not for the affection contained within those two simple words. Glancing down at the sheet of paper, you confirmed that everything was filled out, unsurprised to see that his understated elegance extended itself to his efficient yet graceful penmanship. 

“Well, if everything is in order, I won’t take up anymore of your time for today,” he said, tucking his pen back into his overcoat. “Thank you for your assistance—”

He stopped abruptly, and you realized you hadn't ever given him your name. Offering it in response, you extended your free hand. His palm met yours - cool and dry, his grip precise like everything else about him. You found yourself noting how his hands possessed a particular grace that would be challenging to capture on paper - the elegant architecture of bone and tendon, the way each movement seemed carefully choreographed. The kind of hands that would require dozens of studies to get right, and even then you might not quite capture the eloquence of their controlled motion.

After a single, firm shake, he turned and disappeared into the hallway, leaving behind only the fading echo of his footsteps against the worn floorboards. You fought the urge to follow him, commending yourself for having enough self-restraint to not check whether he was thwarted by the front doors again, then turned to the task of tidying up the classroom. Once you had done a cursory inspection of the rest of the center, you rummaged through the kitchenette for something filling enough to qualify as dinner, settling on some stale crackers and a granola bar alongside a cup of mint tea. 

Grabbing your emergency pillow and blanket from your office closet, you made yourself comfortable on the sofa and set to finishing the first of your commissions for the evening. Your retinas were burning by the time the piece was completed, and you set your iPad down to give yourself a tiny break, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes until phosphenes appeared. Slumping backwards, you heaved a sigh, staring up at the cracks in the ceiling for a moment before opening your to-do list and resignedly shifted the remaining work to the next day’s tasks, too exhausted to berate yourself over it. There was a nagging thought in the back of your mind that you had something else you needed to complete before passing out, but sleep overtook you before you could figure out what it was.

You woke to the sound of Ava's sharp intake of breath, followed by a very loud, very pointed sigh. Right. That nagging feeling you had ignored last night had been trying to tell you to set an early alarm to avoid this very situation. Fuck.

"Please tell me you did not sleep here again."

You peeled your face off the sofa, wincing at the stiffness in your neck. "I didn't sleep here again?"

"You're a terrible liar." She thrust a coffee cup at you with more force than necessary. "This is getting ridiculous."

“Actually, I got more sleep than I would have if I had gone home because this way I didn’t have to deal with the bus delays and getting trapped by Creepy Craig in the hallway, so…” you tried, taking a sip of coffee to avoid her withering gaze.

“This isn’t sustainable,” she said, entirely unconvinced by your attempts to mollify her. “And I don’t just mean you avoiding your apartment so you don’t have to see that asshole, although that’s gotta stop, too. You need to dial it back before you burn yourself out completely.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted, grabbing your phone and suppressing a groan at the number of emails already waiting for you. “It’s not forever, it’s just the end of year craziness. I’ll dial it back once the fundraiser’s over, okay? Promise.”

She narrowed her eyes, giving a skeptical hum.

“Fine. But I’m not above blackmailing you into taking some time off,” she told you eventually, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, I know,” you mumbled, taking another long sip of coffee before forcing yourself off of the sofa and setting the mug down so that you could put away your makeshift bed.

“Go home,” Ava commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument. “Take a shower, eat an actual meal, and come back when you’re at least semi-human again. I’ve got everything covered here.”

“But—” you protested weakly before she cut you off with a sharp look.

“Wasn’t a question,” she said, all but shoving you toward the office door. “See you in a few hours.”

You relented, quickly gathering your things. “Thanks. And thank you for the coffee.”

She nodded, following you out into the hall, waiting until you were nearly at the door before calling after you, “Oh, and if Creepy Craig tries to talk to you, just tell him you have explosive diarrhea and have to go!”

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, turning back to yell, “not going to be doing that.”

“Why not? It would definitely get him to leave you the fuck alone,” she replied, laughing at the revulsion in your expression. 

“Sure, but at what cost?” you asked, and she shrugged.

“Fine, but don’t come whining to me when you get trapped in an hour-long conversation about Soulforge,” she told you, ducking back into the office before catching the glare you sent her way. 

Wrenching the door open, you shivered, bracing yourself against the wind chill as you made your way to the bus stop. By some stroke of luck, your route was running on time today and you made it back to your apartment without incident. Sure, you had to tiptoe past your neighbor’s door in order to ensure he didn’t hear your arrival home, but that seemed a much smaller price to pay than pretending you were suffering from extreme gastrointestinal distress. Choosing to ignore that issue for the time being, you instead took a long shower and ate a bowl of instant oatmeal, after which you almost felt like a functional human being again.

Almost.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Spring, 2020 - San Diego, California

Chapter 7 Part 2 of You Are My Soulmate

Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Description: Bradley's in love. One night with Tinkerbell has already been like no other experience in his life. And he wasn't even alone with her! Now his soulmate's agreed to go on a date with him - and the pressure is on. It has to be perfect. He has to make her smile. Bradley's not sure there are very many first impressions left to make on his soulmate. This date might be the last first impression they've got.

Disclaimers: Misogynistic speech. Mentioned Homosexual Relationships. Angst. Flagrant disregard for protocols or Authority. Angst. Anguish.

This content presented in this story is for audiences age 18 and over only. MINORS DNI. I will not be accepting tag-list requests from Blank or Ageless Blogs for this story.

Warnings: Female!Reader

Word Count: 3207

A/N: All aboard the slow-burn train! It's Roo and Tink's first date and they're so fluffy I could die

<insert Despicable Me gif of Agnes with Unicorn here>

Thanks to @desert-fern who beta-read this chapter and made sure it was all flowing right. Your girl got stuck in Angst Central (TM) and got lost trying to write fluff again.

AO3: Cross-posted Here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted Here!

My Masterlist

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Rooster

Inviting Tinkerbell to his dad’s birthday celebration had been a better choice than he’d ever imagined. She’d agreed so readily, in a way that was balm to his bruised soul, sitting there on the beach. He’d spent the night split between two foci, caught between his family and his soul, cataloging the emotions flitting across her face just as hungrily as he sucked up the stories of his parents from the people who knew them best. As worried as he had been to invite her into the center of his messed up life, seeing her make herself at home, charming his family as easily as she’d charmed him, had been a balm to his soul. His family adored her. He’d been a little worried, standing in his dad and Pop’s colossal kitchen, that she’d feel lost and alone. Instead, it felt right, seeing the smile on her face, as sweet as the first rays of the sun on a spring morning. All night, Bradley felt his parent’s presence on the ocean breeze. He’d felt their approval, their joy as the wet, salt-laden breeze brushed over his skin.

His heart had lurched painfully when Tinkerbell asked him why he’d aimed words meant to hurt like a shrapnel-filled bomb the night he met her. He’d been less than eloquent, stumblingly explaining his feelings and his fears, trying to distill the rage in his chest, crouching like a disgruntled, hastily awoken hibernating bear. She’d let him chatter on, unblinkingly serious, reminding him of a museum statue, an eldritch being carved from the stone with a brow furrowed in thought. She’d forgiven him just as easily as breathing, too. It was an easy forgiveness made a hard pill to swallow. Bradley’s not sure he deserves it.

There will never be anything but forgiveness between us, darling.

Standing in his small apartment on base, as the morning sun slants in through the windows, weak and watery through clouds, Bradley’s only got Tinkerbell on his mind. Her words resound through his mind, coupled with the resolute look on her face. She said the words like they were facts like she’d be a fool to do anything other than forgive him. Her easy agreement to a date shocked him, too. That his soul would be so easy to trust him when he’d never shown her a reason to? 

It makes his decision of a place to take his soulmate on their date even more important. Maybe he’s putting too much pressure on himself. This is just a first date, after all. He’s been on hundreds of first dates before. But this isn’t just any other first date. This is the last first date of his life, and hers, if he’s got anything to say about it. This is the last opportunity to make a good impression on his soulmate. After so long being antagonistic, Bradley’s sure there’s no way he could make a worse impression than he has in the months since Tink came to North Island. But he can make an effort.

If he had the time to plan a bit more, he could have made reservations. But there isn’t time. There are only hours. How can he make today special? Dinner at a restaurant would be ideal. But every place he calls has been booked for months. He’d tried texting Nat, hoping his best friend would have an enlightening idea. The response he got back is less than ideal: I’m sure she’ll like any place you take her, Roo. He’s driving himself crazy, mind running in circles. Pent-up energy crawls through his veins, and the more he thinks, the less he wants to. 

Maybe getting out of the house will help? He’s out of the house before he can think, sneakers tied tight as he pushes through the humid air. His lungs burn far sooner than they would have before the accident, twinging in concert with his weakened muscles. He’s got his crutches jammed under his armpits, walking in a slow, wobbly cadence in the sand. It’s as he’s stumbling up the steps to the boardwalk that he sees the flyer. It’s not special by any means, but it should be fun, something Tinkerbell will adore.

The nerves are still crawling up his spine a few hours later when he’s standing on the stoop of the address Tinkerbell texted him last night, facing her green door. He rings the doorbell in a burst of confidence, holding a bouquet in his sweating, clammy hand. The flowers were the first thing he’d ordered when he got back to his quarters, asking if the florist could make something to denote his love and an apology. The resulting arrangement of purple-blue asters, bluebells, white tulips, baby’s breath, and green myrtle is what he’s cradling in his hands. There’s a note included in the bright white butcher’s paper wrapping, asking her to look up the meaning of the flowers. Bradley wants his soul to know what he’s saying, especially since he’s not sure he can say the words without making a fool of himself.

When the door opens, he swears his heart skips a beat. His jaw drops and he couldn’t keep his eyes off his soul if he tried. She’s wearing shorts and a flowy top. Her hair is in a braid, a signature look of hers, and all he wants to do is bury his fingers in the lush strands. He needs to know if she smells like oranges because of her perfume or because of her shampoo. Tinkerbell is just as awestruck and silent, which makes him preen over his choice of a white button-down and dark jeans. He blinks a bit more and then practically shoves the bouquet into her face.

Her nose scrunches as she laughs, her mirth making him chuckle too.

“Let me put these in water, Bradley.” She steps back and tugs him in with one delicate hand on his forearm. 

“You look a little nervous, Roo.” Her voice is teasing.

“Well, can you blame me? When I’m taking a girl out who looks as good as you do right now?”

Tinkerbell’s steady hands nearly fumble as she’s filling the vase up. He’s content to watch, drinking in the sight of her moving in her kitchen. His mind is filled with visions of sleepy mornings with Tink puttering about in the kitchen, with him draped over her back, of cooking dinner together, of kissing her skin as she smacks his knuckles when he tries to steal a taste. It’s a dream he’s still not sure he’s going to get to have.

When she turns around and chirps, “All Done!” in that upbeat tone, he pulls her into his arms. He’s been barely an arm’s length away from her since she opened the door, and in that moment, even the short distance feels like it’s too far from his soulmate. She smells even more like oranges in his arms, the scent blending with his favorite cologne, sandalwood, and citrus blending in the air like they were meant to. 

“C’mon gorgeous. I promised you a date.” 

Her hand finds his as she locks the door behind her and follows him out to the Bronco. He opens the door for her, just as he did last night, and is enraptured again at the sight of his soulmate marveling at his car. 

“I love this car.” The words spill out of her voice in a near moan as he starts the Bronco with a rumble of the engine.

The entire drive, he has to force himself to pay attention to the words she’s saying and respond to them like he’s supposed to. She’s talking about his car, asking when he got it, where he got it, and how he’s taking care of it. It’s difficult when all he wants to do is bury his face between her thighs until she’s moaning over him instead of his car. Tonight’s going to be torture. The way her eyes light up and she bounces in the seat when they pull into their parking spot half an hour later just cements his feelings. The only parking spot he found was up at the top of a hill near a big tree. Down below is a sea of cars, shining chrome and polished finishes glinting in the sun.

“Are we at a car show, Bradley?” 

He has to thank his lucky stars for the body of the Bronco, hiding his embarrassing, unexpected hard-on at the sight of her excitement as he gets out of the car and opens Tink’s door for her. His futile attempts at calming down don’t help, though, because he’s met with an armful of his excited soul the minute the door opens. He feels like he’s drowning in the scent and heat of Tinkerbell as she yanks him into a messy, filthy, wet kiss. Her hands slide through his hair, short, blunt nails raking over his scalp as he drags her closer than is decent.

When he pulls away, she’s breathing heavily, eyes glazed, and skin hot to the touch. He’s not much better. His dick is rock-hard and aching. All he wants is to whisk her away and make her scream his name, a feeling intensified by the kiss they shared and the whimper leaving her kiss-slicked lips. 

We’re taking this slow, we’re taking this slow. It’s a mantra his brain is quickly grinding into dust from over-utterance, a mantra that is not helping the situation he’s encountering. But he has to get himself in check. This is his soulmate. It’s high time he makes a good impression.

“Yeah, Tink. We’re at the car show.” 

Bradley has to grin, chuckling a little bit under his breath, as he gets hugged again in a mess of orange-scented hair and warmth. She’s practically bouncing once he pays for their tickets, dragging him in her wake as they flit from car to car. Tinkerbell’s in her element, soaking up every crumb of information from the owners as they show off their cars. Her eyes are wide and child-like in joy as she oohs and aahs over the vehicles.

Three hours later, the sun has set over San Diego. Bradley has his crutches jammed securely under his armpits, and Tink’s bought a commemorative tote bag stuffed with merchandise. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, and Tinkerbell’s rumpled and gorgeous, her hair escaping from her neat braid as the afternoon passed by in a blur of shining metal and exhaust fumes.

Tinkerbell is also holding a bag containing their dinner in one hand and a carrier with drinks in the other. He'd offered to take something from her, but his firecracker soul just glared at him until he backed down. The bounce in her steps still hasn’t faded away. Some of her boundless enthusiasm gives way to exhaustion when she’s sitting on the picnic blanket he pulls out of the trunk of the Bronco. The grass is fragrant and warm, and they’re far from the only couple to have the idea of a picnic underneath the stars.

“I don’t know how you did this, Bradley, but today has been perfect.”

Her eyes seem to reflect the stars as they take in the vista. 

“Yeah?” Bradley’s tongue tied at the look on her face. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to do today.”

His voice is raspy and low as he whispers the words into his soulmate’s ears.

“I loved today, Bradley.” She curls into his side like she was meant to be there. “A car show? You spent hours today listening to me talk about cars, Bradley. Hours.”

“Of course I did. I picked this place because of that cherry red convertible you drive to base.” He presses a kiss against her temple as he hands her a fork. “C’mon, start eating, pretty. I’m starving, and I know you have to be, considering how you’ve been bouncing around in excitement all afternoon.”

He waits until she’s placed a forkful in her mouth before continuing. It might be a little bit sneaky and underhanded, but there are a few more things Bradley needs to tell his soulmate.

“I never thought I’d have this.” Her brow furrows at the words, eyes widening even as she chews and swallows. “I never thought I’d deserve to have this with my soulmate.”

“Why is that?” After a day spent with a wildly curious Tinkerbell, Bradley can tell when she’s got more questions than answers.

“Bradshaws don’t spend very long with their soulmates, or well, not in recent memory.” As always happens when he’s talking about his mom and dad, Bradley feels the pit yawning in his stomach, and his throat close up as his grief threatens to yank him under again. His heart stutters in its steady beat when Tinkerbell crawls into his lap. With her head over his heart and her arms curled around his back, he feels stronger than ever.

“My dad was younger than I was when he passed away. 24. He was 24 years old.” Tink presses kisses across his face, seemingly content to stay in his lap. “I barely remember him. I don’t know how to treat a soulmate, I don’t know how to make you happy, how to keep you happy.”

“What makes you think I know how to make my soulmate happy, either?” Her quiet question is so at odds with her bubbly, confident personality that Bradley isn’t sure how to respond. “I- I want to make you happy. I want to love you.”

“But I don’t know how to.” It’s a bold statement, spiraling out into the night air. Bradley can see the pain, the worry creasing her face. Her brow is furrowed as her big brain analyzes his words.

“Shhhh.” He tries to smooth the furrows away with his fingers, a gentle caress cupping her cheek. “I don’t mean to worry you. Sweetheart, this is a promise.”

“I promise I’m going to take care of you. I promise to love you, to make you happy. No matter what happens, even if I die tomorrow, I never want you to doubt that I love you.”

This time, Bradley can’t figure out who starts the kiss. It feels like he’s free-falling, synapses firing behind his eyes in starbursts of color and zaps of electricity. Tinkerbell’s warm and solid in his arms, moans slipping out of her mouth as he traces kisses down the firm, supple skin of her neck. Goosebumps rise up across her skin as his mustache rasps over sensitive flesh. He steals the opportunity to suck a hickey against her breast, slipping the neckline of her blouse down until he can smell more of that delectable orange scent emanating from her flushed skin. When he captures her lips again, he swallows the sweetest sigh. 

Her lips are spit-slicked and puffy. “You’re not dying on me so soon, Bradshaw.” Her voice is breathy and soft as she settles back down on the blanket, toying with the fork in her meal.

“Oh yeah?” His question, coupled with how he starts to scarf down his own meal, prompts Tink to eat too. For several minutes, only the rustling of the leaves in the tree above them punctuates the silence. 

“Yeah.” Tink’s smile is soft as she looks up at the sky. “I have plans to grow old with you.”

Once again, his soulmate takes him by surprise. She’s planned a life with him. She wants to spend her life with him.

“So what do those plans entail?” Bradley needs to know, watching as Tinkerbell’s eyes flutter as she sets her bowl to the side and sips on the bottle of ridiculously overpriced sparkling water she’d ordered.

“You and me, mostly.” She murmurs, tipping her head up to watch how the colors mingle in a riotous mix of red, yellow, indigo, and violet. “But also so much laughter and love.”

Her voice is quiet as she lays down on the blanket, eyes reflecting the skies above. “Maybe a family?”

The grass is cold and damp under the blanket as Bradley settles down next to his soul. She’s got her right arm under her head, eyes wide and wondering as her face is illuminated by the silvery light of the moon.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, Bradley?” She’s still looking up at the stars, shivering as the cool ocean breeze drifts across her skin, illuminated in the silvery light of the moon.

“Yeah, it is.” Bradley is not looking at the stars. He’s only looking at Tinkerbell. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her lips part as she gasps up at the vista.

The night is quiet and still around them as they chat with each other, their voices barely loud enough to be heard over the rustling of the leaves. It doesn’t bother Bradley. Nor does it bother his soulmate. In fleeting moments, he marvels at their positions. As the night deepens around them, Tinkerbell moves closer, hands against his chest, head pillowed against his bicep. In the dark, all he can see is her silhouette, smell her orangey perfume and feel the heat of her skin against him. Even lying on the hard ground, he feels more at home than he's felt in a long time.

Bradley wakes up to weak, watery sunlight and fat raindrops splattering across his face. Tinkerbell’s still fast asleep, her face buried in his chest, her weight more comforting than a weighted blanket as her limbs entangle with his own.

“Hey, Tink.” Her nose wrinkles as she clutches tighter to his shirt and nuzzles even further into his chest.

“C'mon, sweetheart. It's 7 A.M. We have work today.”

Her head jolts up so fast it nearly impacts his chin.

“Shit!” Braley's not sure he’s ever heard Tinkerbell curse before. Now all he wants to do is hear her curse some more.

She's mussed and indescribably gorgeous as she chivvies him up off the blanket and into the Bronco. 

“I'll get you home in no time, Sweetheart.”

Tinkerbell’s smile is like the sun filtering through rain clouds, golden and gorgeous. “Are you going to kiss me at the door, too, Bradshaw?”

That's exactly what Bradley does. He presses his soul up against her dark green door and kisses her until her lips are swollen and her eyes are lidded. She whines, quiet and strung out when he pulls away.

“I'd come join you in the shower, Sweets, but we need you clean, not dirty before work today. It'll also make us both late. I don’t think we need any more demerits after the past few months.” 

Her laugh curls warm in his chest. “We really don't, Bradley.” With a snick, that pretty green door opens and his soulmate leaves him with that heart stoppingly sweet grin.

They're both a little late on base that morning. Commander Grayson glares when he sees Tinkerbell walk in, Bradley following behind her like a lost puppy. Mav just sighs and orders Bradley to do a hundred pushups as Tinkerbell giggles. In the grand scheme of things, there are worse things he'd do for his soulmate than one hundred pushups. His arms hurt like hell that night though. 

Yeah. 

He didn’t regret it one bit. 

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, OR AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN ON TUMBLR, WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[filthforfriends]

idk if you use twitter/instagram but there’s been hugeeee dramas(?) regarding both thomas and ethan and i love ur opinions so i need ur opinions on the matter

idk about Thomas and I don't love that anon referred to the situation as "drama" since the allegations are very serious. However there is so little credibility and specificity in the situation that I get it. Everything is to the best of my knowledge.

A couple days ago, an instagram user sent serious allegations about Ethan to several Maneskin fans (and we don't know who else). "I know stories related to Ethan that are quite problematic." That sentence is how the user prefaced the concerning details, which I won't be sharing for that very reason. Knowing "stories related to" someone is way too many degrees of separation for any level of credibility. The account was quickly deleted and never disclosed their identity.

Enter a small Italian instagram account which claims to create a safe space to call out abuse by influential figures. The page is less than 3 months old, however the person or people running it are experienced with social media branding. They are organized and eloquent social activists/feminists who are absolutely sure they are doing the right thing here.

The "reports" are just screen shots of DMs that describe allegations. Each set of messages is prefaced by a description of the accused, instead of a name. I don't see how this is effective at anything besides creating a tornado of gossip and avoiding a defamation lawsuit. Two days ago they posted a detailed collection of allegations attributed to "il batterista di una nota rockband italiana." Translation: "the drummer of a well known Italian rock band." The details in the call out are consistent with the dubious messages to fans. So people assumed it was about Ethan, which was very likely the goal of the description.

We can't know if these allegations came from the same user that messaged fans because the call out account keeps their sources anonymous. The fact that they post screen shots does not inspire confidence that the accuracy of their content is being verified. The only step they claim to take is waiting to post a "report" until they receive messages from two victims. This single protocol is inadequate authentication of career ending allegations where Ethan isn't even named. To quell your curiosity, the gist is that this person is volatile and manipulative within his romantic relationships. He notoriously never wears condoms, even if he's entered a safe sex agreement with his partner, never mind the consequences.

I'm not gonna waste time debunking the Twitter account who was using the label "grooming" more liberally than lube on a straight man's sphincter. Trust it was the opposite of credibility. (And use the dictionary definition when accusing someone of a crime ffs!)

So we're left with 3 streaming piles of nothing until @/lauralfonsic likes the call out post. That handle belongs to Laura Alfonsi Castelli, Ethan's ex-girlfriend. (They do still follow each other). Her motivations for liking this post about "the drummer of a well known Italian rock band" seem obvious, but with allegations this serious it's important to acknowledge that we don't actually know.

Credit: @/ilballodivic

Then Damiano's ex Girogia Soleri released a statement that was purposefully nonspecific, but sided with Ethan whom she's known for 6+ years. Her and Laura are friends which makes them being on opposite sides of this strange.

What's even stranger is Giorgia's best friend Federica Fabrizio posting the call out on her story. Not only has Giorgia taken a stance against the call out, she's done it in a way that doesn't lead back to the source. She limited the call out's exposure so that fewer people would see it. Federica did the exact opposite, which is unexpected because her and Giorgia are also partners in social advocacy.

The statement isn't overt, but Federica appears to be taking some responsibility for creating the call out. Its like she's posting a finished project with a clever one-liner to express that she's proud of herself without seeming too boastful. It's improbable, except that the call out account, which self-identifies in social justice and is Italian-speaking, functions with the help of activists.

Buckle up. Federica's next instagram story was this bathroom selfie with a bold caption.

Obviously shit is hitting the fan back in Rome with former members of Maneskin's inner circle, but we have zero facts.

Ultimately, there is no evidence that Ethan is guilty of anything. You've probably noticed I haven't made it simple to find the post or account, which is intentional. Please pontificate less and research more. A person's reputation is fragile. Once broken, the pieces never quite go back together.

[essjaywrites]

sunscreen.

Is this what I think it is? If so, inject it into my veins

If you think it’s Imogen rubbing sunscreen on for Garrick for no real reason (other than his sensitive skin) then yes that’s exactly it 😎

He sighs, and says “I’m going swimming.” The lure of the sparkling turquoise water is too tempting to not jump in. He pulls his sweaty shirt over his head and tosses it aside.

Imogen doesn’t move or even look his way, but she does say “enjoy your sunburn.”

Garrick shades his eyes against the glare of the sun directly above them. She is, of course, (annoyingly) completely right. He’s going to be roasted alive if he doesn’t put some sunscreen on. He bends down and fishes around in his flight pack. “Aha!”

She glances towards him, an eyebrow raised.

“Sunscreen,” Garrick explains. “I finally remembered to pack some.”

“About time.”

Garrick ignores this and holds the small vial of cream out towards her. She looks at it, back at him, back at the little jar. He waits.

“That is absolutely not in my job description,” Imogen says, making no move to take the cream from him.

“We’re on a mission together. If I perished from sunburn you’d be all alone. This is your duty as my comrade.”

“Ugh,” is her eloquent response. She snatches the jar from him, kneeling up to reach it. “Fine. Sit down. Turn around,” she orders, making a little turning motion with one hand.