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angel-eyes05 · 1 year ago

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to leave the warmest bed i've ever known

pairing: spiderwoman!reader x miguel o’hara

summary: after miguel’s fight with miles, you confront him in his office

warnings: this whole thing is basically one big argument there’s SO much angst, implied suicide attempt, HUGE ATSV SPOILERS DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THIS MOVIE, im projecting a little in some parts of this ngl (i cried writing a certain section of this, you'll know it when you read it lmao), mentions and descriptions of blood, gore, and death

word count: 4.1k

notes: i watched the movie yesterday…and miguel is on my mind. but i remember reading this namor x reader fanfic after i watched wakanda forever of a similar idea to this and i loved it so this is HEAVILY inspired by that fic, but just make it miguel. i would link it but ngl that was so long ago and i dont remember the author. if i end up finding it again ill put it here. also, just pretend miguel has been doing this whole spider society thing for a couple of years at least, it just needs to work like that for this ik its probably not canon but just roll with it lmao. and yes the title is a taylor swift lyric im so glad you noticed (im so sorry she's in my brain rn with the eras tour)

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The anger boiled up inside your chest as you stormed your way across the lobby. Hundreds of different Spider-Man variants were scattered across the area, some more injured than the others. It sickened you sometimes. How he had so many people under his grasp and just decided to throw some of them at the walls sometimes, not caring how hard they hit the floor because they were all just ammo to him. How despite his denials of it, that’s probably what your role was to him as well. Nothing more than a bullet in his massive machine gun.

You normally tried not to think about it, how his determination towards his goal sometimes meant lack of care for others. But this time he had just gone too far. You always had a soft spot for Miles, watching closely on him whenever Miguel would let you go though scanners of all the different variants. You admired his struggle, but eventual success to taking up the previous Peter’s mantle, and always hated how Miguel talked about him. You knew there was no way Miles could’ve asked for any of this. For the pressures and struggles of being a Spider-Man, for everything causing such a strained relationship with his parents, for the death of his uncle, and for what will be the eventual death of his father. You definitely didn’t.

Ok lets do this one last time. Eh, whatever, there’s probably gonna be 50 other introductions after this one so it doesn’t really matter.

Being Earth-837’s Spider-Man has never been easy. Especially since you were bit when you were only 13 (another reason you sympathized with Miles and Gwen). Your life had followed the order of canon events to a perfect T, your older brother killed in a fight with a robber only two months after you were bit. You tried to overcome the burden of your powers by trying to live as normal of a teenage life as possible, but it was mostly in vain, having to give up multiple friendships and relationships in fear of those you love getting hurt. This was only elevated when your boyfriend Peter was murdered in the crossfire of an encounter with Doc Ock. You didn’t understand. You couldn’t. What you had done to deserve all of this. All you did was just be in the wrong place at the wrong time. You wonder sometimes what would happen if someone was in the same place you were when you got bit. If someone else went to the closed down area of that museum and ran into that spider. That stupid spider that ruined your life. Those thoughts slowly started to disappear for a bit. For a few years things were easy. Things seemed like they were finally going in your favor.

You were 25 when it happened. The last canon event. Ever since you were a little girl you hated your mother’s job. Losing nights of sleep over if she would come home or not. She always did though. She was good at her job. Too good though. Good enough to get promoted to police captain, which for who you were, was basically sealing her fate. She saved so many people that day. You were too busy fighting Venom to notice how much collateral damage you were causing in the process. Your mother’s job was to evacuate all the citizens away from the fight. She died shielding a child from incoming debris. A noble way to go. But god was it gruesome. You found her after the fight was over, two metal poles impaling her. One through her stomach and one straight through her face, pools of blood growing bigger below her as she was left there, all the paramedics busy trying to save the heavily injured. You froze when you finally recognized her, unable to at first due to how mutilated her face was from the pole. Suddenly, you were transported back to being a six year old, falling asleep outside the door to your mother’s bedroom so you would know exactly when she would come home. Purposefully falling asleep in her arms so that she couldn’t go anywhere.

When you used the key she had given you to get into her apartment that night, and you slept in her room, desperate to intake anything left of her before she was fully gone. You doused yourself in her perfume so it still felt like she was standing right behind you. You had always loved her smell. The smell of vanilla, curl product, and fancy perfume. They were attached to memories you had of her. Trying on her heels when you were a kid to try and be fancy like her. Smelling her hair in the morning before school to comfort you before she left for work. Despite all of this bringing you comfort, all it really did was cause further denial in your heart. That one day you were gonna hear the keys clacking in the keyhole to your apartment one more time. That’s all you really wanted. You would give everything up in a heartbeat just to hear her police scanner go off one last time. But it wasn’t going to. And it was your fault. Deep down you knew it was. You should’ve done a better job controlling the debris. You had always been a messy fighter, but you didn’t know it was going to mean anything until it was too late.

How you got up to the top of that building is still a blur to you to this day. But next thing you know, you were looking at the New York City skyline from the very top of the Empire State Building. And at the very edge too. You heard some sounds behind you, but you just decided it was the wind howling from how high up you were. You were just so tired. Everything and everyone you loved was cursed all because of you. And with your mother as the most recent victim, you decided you finally had enough. You took a deep breath, eyes overflowed with water, as you set your foot forward.

Your plummet was interrupted by a sudden contact you felt to your forearm. Shock filled your body as you turned around to look at what had stopped your attempt. The blue hand was massive, nearly wrapping back around onto itself as it held onto you for dear life. You finally looked up at face that the hand belonged to. The mask that covered the massive figure was a strange one. Blue with strange red silhouettes for the eyes. It kind of reminded you of…your own costume? That couldn’t be though there was no way. This must be the afterlife or something. You already jumped and that's why you didn’t remember your way up to the top. This was some kind of creature trying to stop you from jumping down to hell below. His breaths were heavy and loud, almost like he was desperate to stop you. This convinced you that this was real, which caused you to try to escape from his grip. He was stronger than you, and was putting up a huge fight. You were slick though. Once you were out of his hand, you closed your eyes and quickly made your jump. Everything flashed before your eyes. Your brother, Peter, your mom. You were hoping to see them soon. This was very quickly interrupted again when you suddenly stopped falling. Something had attached itself to your stomach. You opened your eyes. A web? This web was much different than yours though. It was glowing a bright, neon orange.

The man was holding onto the end of it tightly with both hands. His mask then disappeared to show his face. His was long, matching how big the rest of his body was, defined cheek bones sticking out. Brown wavy hair slicked back with a few loose strands flying out in the wind. The look of desperation on his face stook out most of all. Why did he care so much? He didn’t know you, and you definitely didn’t know him. “Let me pull you up. Please,” he said to you between shaky pants. You stared at him for a bit before nodding. He slowly pulled you up with the string of his web, each move more careful than the last. As soon as your feet were planted safely back on the roof of the building, he wrapped you up in his massive arms. You appreciated the gesture, but you didn’t return it, still very confused about why he was so concerned. He was so big around your body though, you couldn’t help but feel a little comforted, feeling his still shaky breaths against the hairs of your neck. Soon after, he clicked on some buttons on his neon orange watch and led you into a portal.

The rest is history. You’re grateful he found you that day. It allowed you to meet so many people, Peter B., Jess, Gwen, Hobie, Ben, Pavitr, Margo. They all related to you and you felt like you could share things with them that you couldn’t do with anyone else. You had grown especially close to Peter and Jess, both of them having been in the game for a long time, just like you. They both knew how you felt, having lost so much and growing so tired after so many years. Peter even named you as Mayday’s godmother when she was born, a gesture that caused you to nearly kill him with your hug. Miguel though was different. He wasn’t nearly as social as the rest of your friends, but you found yourself having much more intimate moments with him (in more ways then one). You eventually found out why Miguel was so concerned for you the day you met. He had taken interest in your abilities early into looking for variants for his little “project”, but refrained from roping you into something so dangerous while you were still in your teens.

Once you were old enough though, he started paying more and more attention, hoping to catch you in a fight and recruit you then. But he was always pulled away with more important duties to attend to. That was until he witnessed your canon event. He had seen it happen so many times before through his scanners. It was going to happen. It had to in order for your universe to not collapse in on itself. But for some reason, yours hurt more than the rest to him. Especially how you coped with it. Seeing you wrap yourself up in her blankets and clothes broke his heart. He knew where this would lead to. That’s why he was there that day. To save you. He had to, or he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. You got your own watch immediately, along with your own room in the Spider Society headquarters. He stayed close with you for the first month of you being a member of the team. When he wasn’t out on missions, he was with you. You didn’t really know what to label you two as, but whatever was going on, you liked it. And he did too.

That is until Miles came into the picture. Once Miles was bit, all hell broke loose for Miguel. He was always in some alternate dimension catching some Spider-Man villain who got out and rangled them back over here, falling back over to you more beat up and bruised than the last time. You couldn’t imagine how much stress he was under, the fate of the entire multiverse up to him. You had some ways of helping him relieve his stress, but you wish you could convince him that he wasn’t alone in this. But nothing ever got through to him. He had become distant, aloof even. You tried bringing it up to Jess every so often, but she would just brush it off.

“That’s how he’s always been.” Not to you he hasn’t. This week has been hell though. With Spot making it over to Miles, Miguel had been going into rages all week. You had put up with it for now, but that was all about to stop. Watching how harsh he was being on Miles, throwing so many Spider-Men at an innocent boy, risking all of their lives in the process. Disregarding everything Gwen and Peter were feeling and then throwing Gwen back into her broken world with nothing. He had gone too far. No one else was going to stand up to him about it, so you knew it had to be you. Maybe he would listen, maybe he wouldn’t. It didn’t really matter. He just needed to hear it.

“It’s not worth it you know.” The voice snapped you out of your thoughts, stopping you in your tracks. “You know how stubborn he gets over these things,” said Jess, trying to convince you to save your breath. “I don’t care. I have to at least try,” you responded, monotonically. “I just don’t understand how you can follow him so blindly and not see what he’s doing is wrong.” “Because he isn’t wrong. I don’t know about you, but I’m not just gonna stand by and let some kid’s stupid decisions destroy another Earth,” Jess argued. “He’s just trying to save his dad, I can’t understand how that makes him such a bad person,” you said, finally turning around to face her, shocked when she was closer to you than expected.

“You know exactly why. Don’t be so naive, y/n,” she shot back. “You can’t stop me,” you said staring straight into her. She shrugged. “Then I can’t help you.” She began to walk away. You did to, until you heard her say. “You don’t know how much he cares for you.” You turned around to face her again, but her back was still to you, her head tilted ever so slightly to look at you. “If you really do care for the kid, watch what you say to Miguel right now. Cause you might just give him the final push he needs to do what needs to be done.” You didn’t give her a response, and just simply kept walking. You felt Jess’ eyes on your back as you entered the elevator to get up to Miguel’s office.

The elevator ride up felt longer than it should’ve, as you tried to gather all of your thoughts and emotions together so even if he didn’t listen, your words would still stick with him in some way. You didn’t necessarily want to hurt him (though your fists were telling you otherwise), but you did want him to be aware of what he’s done. Once the doors finally opened, all of that work flew out the window as rage took over your body again, seeing Miguel up there looking at the scanners. The fact that he looked just as normal as he always does made you furious. It’s like nothing happened.

“You know, I could hear you coming in from the lobby,” he said, almost stopping you in your tracks. You hated when he did that. Claiming that he knew what your every move was going to be. Like you were under his control or something. “Yeah, well then you must’ve heard me talking to Jess, which means you know exactly what this is about,” you shot back, stopping to where you could see him perched up there. “Why don’t you just save me the conversation about morality and just come up here and kick my ass already. It’ll save both of us time,” he said, not even taking his eyes off the scanners to look down at you. This only added to your fury. “That’s not what I’m here for Miguel, so don’t you dare try to twist my words here. What you did to that kid was fucked up and you know it.” “Oh yeah, then why didn’t you try to do anything to stop me?” he questioned.

“Because I’m not stupid Miguel. I’m not gonna try to take down hundreds of Spider-Men at once.” “Oh, cause you’re so much better than that?” This wasn’t like him at all. That gentle, kind, and caring Miguel you once knew was gone, taken over by some sort of personal vendetta he had against Miles. “Listen, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but this all needs to stop before it gets taken too far. You’re getting into a fight you can’t win. That kid’s strong and so are his allies. And if you go any further into this, I won’t be here to help you.” He stayed still and only turned his head to look at you. “And what makes you think that you’re so important to my plan that it’ll fall apart if you leave? Have you really become that pretentious?”

Your body froze. Have I really? No no no, that’s exactly what he wants. If you begin to doubt yourself now, you’ll stay and nothing will change. You knew you were right. He was trying to crumble you down, but you wouldn’t let that happen. “And you really think that one kid is going to ruin something that you’ve been working for for years? How insecure you’ve become.” “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said, turning back away from you. You did the same, wiping off your face in anger. “I hate it when you do tha-,” you said as you turned back around, but were cut off to find Miguel standing there right in front of you. He was close. Too close to your liking, although in any other circumstance you would’ve found this attractive.

He tilted his head up, but his eyes were down staring daggers into yours. You hated how much he tried to make himself seem more superior to you. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he repeated, this time slower as if you were a child. “He’s just a kid Miguel,” you said in a low, quiet voice. “An anomaly. And a dangerous one at that.” “God Miguel, all he wants to do is protect his dad, do you know how insane you sound right now?” you said letting out a slight laugh when you finished. You backed away from him a little. “He doesn’t know how much damage he’ll do with this. Saving his father will only prolong the inevitable. His world will be gone within hours if he does this. All I’m trying to do is make him understand,” he tried to explain. “By trying to kill him.” “You always have to exaggerate the situation,” he said palming his face. “But that’s essentially what you’re trying to do isn’t it? Why not snuff out the problem entirely by taking him out!”

He signed and began to walk away while you were talking, bringing up your anger even more. “Yeah, use all the power you’ve accumulated over the years and just take out the small problem! Except this isn’t just a fly on the wall Miguel. This is a child! An innocent boy who didn’t ask for any of this to happen to him, just like how we didn’t. I get it, I’m sorry that this job is stressful, I really am. But that gives you zero right to act the way you are!” You were screaming at him at this point. You didn’t want to. You didn’t want your emotions to get the best of you. But he was being too stubborn. This was the only way you thought you could get to him. You might not have wanted to, but you needed to hurt him now. It was the only way.

“You can’t be so power blind that you refused to accept the fact that there could be a way around Captain Davis’ death. You said we saved Earth’s before, I’m sure we could do it again.” Your anger only kept rising when he kept walking away and didn’t respond. “This is a personal thing isn’t it?” you asked calmly. You knew it was working now when he stopped walking. “Yeah, it it. You won’t let Miles get his happy ending. Because why should he be pardoned of his burden while the rest of us have suffered so much. While you’ve suffered so much.” The answer to your question was confirmed when Miguel stayed silent. “Just because you didn’t get the life you wanted Miguel, doesn’t mean you have the right to stop other people from getting theirs.”

You knew you overstepped the line when Miguel turned around and started walking towards you, fury burning in his crimson eyes. “Yeah, so what! What if that is what this is all about! You should know better than anyone how much this job takes away from you!” he screamed at you, backing you up into a wall. “Why should he get to be let off so easily, while people like you and me have to suffer so much? Don’t try to turn me into the villain here when I know you’re thinking the exact same thing, y/n.” He wasn’t entirely wrong. You had wondered it at some points. “I won’t let you turn this onto me Miguel, this is about you,” you fired back. “Oh no, you’re not getting off that easily. I know you’re thinking it. And you’re right. Why should Miles get let off so easily when you’ve lost so much.” He held your hands in his, trying to connect to you. “And you have mi vida. You’ve had so much taken from you and it’s unfair. Why should he only have lost one person when you’ve had three taken from you. Your brother, Peter, your moth-.”

He was cut off by your hand striking against his face in a harsh blow. “If you’re smart, and I know you are, you’ll keep those three out of them. I won’t let you drag their names through the dirt for something as stupid as this.” You both stood there for a while, both of your eyes looking towards the ground, hoping it would open up to swallow you both as an escape from this god awful conversation. You never wanted it to come to this. In all honesty, you cared for Miguel. You might’ve even loved him, if you were even capable of doing such a thing. You hoped he felt the same way about you, but in a job like this, he always had at least one wall up around you. It just wasn’t worth it anymore. You were too tired to keep trying for something that was most likely going to fall apart in the end.

“You’re still going after him aren’t you?” you asked, finally breaking the silence. Miguel looked back up at you. “You can’t ask me not to. You know better than anyone why this is so important to me.” He moved his hand up to cup your cheek and kissed your forehead gently. You let it sit there for a minute out of habit before pushing it off your face. “And you must know why I can’t stay anymore then.” His shoulders dropped. “Whatever this thing between us is. It’s over. I can’t stay beside someone who can’t see what he’s doing is wrong.” Miguel’s dropped hand turned into a fist of anger. “Fine,” he spat in your face. “I don’t need someone like you in my way. You’re just a liability to this anyways.” He began to walk away from you back to his scanners. “Just don’t come crying back over to me when your little plan doesn’t work out, cause I won’t help you.” He used his webs to pull himself back up to the platform to keep looking for Miles. You stood there for a second, gathering yourself.

Five years. Out the door just like that. It bewildered you how easily a bond like you two had could be broken all because of one teenager. You began to make your way for the door before you said. “When this is all over…don’t try to find me.” He didn’t respond. Once the elevator doors opened, you rushed inside, desperate to get away from him. So many thoughts rushed through your head as the doors closed and you sunk down back to the lobby to leave. You didn’t have much of a plan. This could end up being a horrible idea. Your gut told you it was the right thing to do though. And that was enough for you. You walked out of the headquarters lobby with a new heart and a new mind, ready to take action for your new plan.

First though, you had to find Gwen.

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a/n: god that took longer than it should've. dw dw i'll do a part 2 if enough people ask for one. im not 100% sure how im gonna do a part 2 cause yk....idk how beyond the spiderverse is gonna go so tbh, we're just gonna make it go the way i want lmao. thanks for reading, ik this was kind of a long one lmao

NEXT CHAPTER

#miguel o’hara #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #into the spider verse #spider-woman reader #across the spiderverse #fem!reader #fanfic #fanfiction #spiderman #spider man #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderverse

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hainuwelle · 7 months ago

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The third man theory

Note: This theory takes as starting point Aurora's Fun theory. It states that the invention in which Gaster fell was a new version of a warp door that would have allowed the monsters of the underground to escape to a timeline in which the war against the humans never happened. If this experiment were to work, it would have allowed for a happier ending than the True Pacifist one, because more accidents and deaths would have been prevented.

Sadly, Gaster's experiments went wrong and he was scattered "across time and space". The only other time in Undertale this expression is used is when we call Papyrus in Sans's room, the one that gets us lost in a seemingly endless darkness when we enter it, with a door that suspiciously looks like Mystery Man's grey door and Deltarune's warp doors. This key expression used by Papyrus tells us Gaster's creation and untimely demise should have something to do with these doors.

If this theory is correct, the invention in which Gaster fell would have been under our nose the whole time.

With the FUN theory video in mind, something about Mr. Elegance's dialogues caught my eye.

Evidence 1 - Mr. Elegance, if we didn't previously talk to Jigsaw Joe:

Evidence 2 - Mr. Elegance if we previously talked to Jigsaw Joe:

For a flaming teleportation door one would assume to be magical, the vocabulary used to talk about it sure sounds mechanical and mundanely machine-like : « Fix up », « working on it », « got this door workin’ », « it might break », « fixed that door », « it should work without any issues ». Intriguingly, it looks old, and yet, it is new to the Darkners, who have never seen it before. Is it really Darkner technology?

Of course, to an experienced Undertale player, it looks familiar, similar to the one to Sans's room.

This brings us to my question: Why did Toby Fox add these two different Mr. Elegance dialogues about this door? What purpose do they serve?

It can't be to alert the player that they could malfunction if we haven’t previously talked to Jigsaw Joe, since they always work properly regardless. It’s not like this triggers a side quest asking you to talk to the puzzle man if you don't want a 1/6 chance of the door teleporting you into the void. And they don't serve a comedic purpose either. There is no joke, no punchline. So why warn us about the breaking hazard, if the warp doors never break in the first place ? Why specify that 3 people are needed to get them to work smoothly?

Because this isn’t really about the Scarlet Forest shortcut. The door might not break in the game, but it might have broken somewhere else. This is really about what went wrong with Gaster's experiments.

Time to bring in evidence 3:

First, let's note that this tweet isn't exactly talking about the same situation as in evidence 1 : Mr. Elegance talks about a door that two people got to work and that might break, while Toby Fox talks about a machine that's already broken and that two people could never repair.

However, evidence 2 tells us that when three of them worked on it, the machine should work without a problem. So if we assume that these dialogues are really about the creation that led to Gaster’s demise, this means that the reason things went wrong is because one person was missing.

Two people worked on the machine instead of three, which led to Gaster's disappearance. Yet, we know that two people were trying to repair the machine once it was broken. This means that after Gaster's disappearance, the missing person came back.

Now let's imagine that Gaster formed a trio with two other colleagues that we'll name X and Y. The Royal Scientist is working on a door-shaped machine that would free the monsters from their imprisonment. As the fate of the Underground lies in his hands, a lot of pressure is resting upon his shoulders. The role that X and Y had in this creation is unknown. Gaster could have even built it on his own. But thanks to Entry n°17, we know that shared his experiments with two other people. And thanks to the Japanese translation, we know he was rather close to them.

After the construction of the machine, Gaster and X try to get it to work, but without Y. Maybe they walked away from the experiment, maybe the other two didn't trust them enough, we don't know.

Despite this, they manage to make it work with just the two of them. However, what Mr. Elegance predicts happens, and something goes wrong. Two people just wasn't enough to assure that the machine would work properly. It's too unstable. It malfunctions. Gaster falls inside, is shattered across time and space, and the machine breaks.

Now let's come back to the end of Toby Fox's tweet. ”Neither of them could fix the machine, no matter how hard they tried. No one can." Notice that "neither of them" means precisely two people.

After the incident, Y comes back, but Gaster disappeared. The trio is now a duo. Y and X do everything they can to repair the machine, but can't. No one can. Because Gaster, the person necessary to its reparation, is no more.

If this theory is right, what are X and Y’s identities? And why was Y absent during the creation of the shortcut door machine? A lot of questions have yet to be answered...

#deltarune theory #warp door lore #deltarune #gaster #utdr

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queenshelby · 1 year ago

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Chemical Reactions (P. 4)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Smut in later parts, Age-Gap, Infidelity

Words: 2,567

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3

Two weeks later…

Just over two weeks had passed since you took up your scholarship at Berkley and it has been seven days since you began researching for your thesis about dark matter under the supervision of J Robert Oppenheimer who, unfortunately for you, appeared to be somewhat preoccupied with more important matters these days.

For the weeks and days, he had been visited by a man of statue who appeared to be a general of some sort and, whilst you were curious about this man’s visits to Berkley, you already some idea about what this may be about.

For months there had been some talks in the scientific community about the fission reaction of atoms which ultimately gave rise to the possible creation of a new innovative bomb. It was only a matter of time until the army caught on to this idea and you knew from your time at Harvard that several professors had already been lobbying for an atomic bomb project in this regard.

You thus assumed that, finally, the program was going to implemented, especially since now Germany had just invaded Poland. You knew that, an atomic bomb like this could end the war and your presumption was that the army was recruiting scientists, including J Robert Oppenheimer, to build this powerful nuclear weapon before the Germans did.

As such, you did not bother him much these days with minuscule issues about dark matter and Dr Oppenheimer certainly kept to himself whenever he could until Tuesday evening came around and he finally decided to check on you in the lab.

Your POV

Unlike your very own professor, in the lab, you were an ace and experimenting to prove a theory someone else or yourself has come up with excited you a lot even though the theoretical part of physics was what you desired to be involved in the most.

Unlike many other students in your department at Berkley, you had a high attention to detail when it came to experimental physics and since working with hazardous chemicals at high or low pressures required some planning and special precautions, you enjoyed to use the laboratory after everyone had left.

You often spent hours in the lab following your lectures for the day and today was not any different when, at 7 o’clock at night, you were still occupied by your attempts to create a chemical reaction similar to that of a star exploding.

Thus, when Dr Oppenheimer approached you from behind, just as you put the centrifuge you were using under negative pressure and connected it the exhaust system, you startled.

You were concentrating too hard and did not expect to see anyone at this hour in the laboratory, especially not him, your very own supervisor who had been too busy for your research in the past two weeks.

“Holy shit, you startled me” you thus spat as you dropped one of the glass vials on to the concrete floor which, luckily for you, did not contain anything but some pH solution.

“I don’t believe that I ever heard you swear like this, Miss Y/LN” Dr Oppenheimer said with some amusement in his voice before gathering a small broom and helping you to clean up the mess you made because of him, which was a gesture you appreciated.

“My apologies Dr Oppenheimer. It’s just, you don’t seem to be here often these days and I am behind with my research already, so…” you stammered as, together, you cleaned up the broken glass and, before you realised it, his hand was on top of yours, caressing it gently.

Immediately, you felt that same tingling again on your skin which, just a few weeks ago, you felt on your neck when Dr Oppenheimer adjusted the clip on the back of your necklace. It was an intense and rather pleasurable sensation which, ultimately, made you blush.

“There is no need to apologise. If anyone had to apologise, it should be me, for neglecting my engagement as your thesis supervisor. Unfortunatly, there have been some more pressing matters that required my attention” Dr Oppenheimer then said as he was letting go of your hand and raising back to his feet before helping you up as well by using his right hand.

“I figured” you barely stammered while allowing Dr Oppenheimer to pull you to your feet before, with a slight blush, walking towards the utilities room to dispose of the broken glass vail and to obtain a new one.

“You figured?” Dr Oppenheimer then asked somewhat confused by your statement as he followed you into the utilities room.

“I have seen an army general visiting your office twice last week and my presumption is that you have been recruited to build this goddamn bomb, which every physicist in this country has been talking about for months” you asserted with little to no reluctance before also voicing your concerns about it. “Do you really think that this is a good idea?” you wanted to know, seeing that such bomb could easily be a device of mass destruction and, just as you spoke the words, Robert pushed you further into the corner of the utilities room while closing the door shut behind you.

You then suddenly felt his warm but strong arm pull you against him before covering your mouth with the palm of his other hand.

“Shh” he whispered before shaking his head, indicating for you to stop talking and, by that point, your heart was pounding hard with adrenaline.

He must have thought that someone was listening in on you and presumed that the laboratory was bugged by government officials, but none of this mattered to you now as you felt heat everywhere now while his body was touching yours.

The feeling of his body against yours was so intense that you couldn’t even murmur a response into his palm and thus you simply nodded, which is when he spoke again.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, but you sure have a creative imagination” Dr Oppenheimer said, brushing off what you had alleged while still holding his arms around you and embracing the sparks of electricity emanating from each other's bodies.

“Now, about your research on dark matter, how does Sunday sound for a catch up?” he then asked as you looked up into his bright blue eyes while he looked down at you with a look of concern and a hint of desire.

“Sunday?” you murmured in response as you could not even manage to speak proper words just yet as you stood there like this for what felt like hours, but it could not even have been more than a minute or two.

“Yes. Sunday. I am away until then” Dr Oppenheimer then said as his arms finally fell from around you and he cleared his throat.

“And, I am leaving for a period of two weeks after that for which Dr O’Connell will be taking over as your supervisor. He will be a good mentor for you but I want to see where you are at with your research before he gets involved” Dr Oppenheimer then announced which broke your trance and you quickly stepped back, almost tripping over your own feet.

“Dr O’Connell?” you asked with surprise while you looked down at your feet, trying to avoid those magnetic eyes of J Robert Oppenheimer.

“Yes. I am afraid so” he confirmed, which is when you finally managed to look at his face again. His eyes were clouded with indescribable emotions and, clearly, so were yours.

“I understand” you eventually confirmed nervously. “Sunday it is but, since the university facilities will be closed, we will need to meet somewhere else” you managed to point out while your eyes began to water slightly from the overwhelmingness of everything that just happened, making you look like a fool.

Dr Oppenheimer, of course, noticed and his face changed from indiscernible to concern once more.

“You will do just fine Miss Y/LN. I have no doubt about it” he reassured you before suggesting the library as a meeting place which meant that, unbeknownst to him, you would have had to copy your calculations from your big chalkboard in your room to several pieces of paper.

“How about the Chevalier residence instead?” you thus suggested, causing Robert to furrow his eyebrows.

“I do not consider this to be a good idea Miss Y/LN. It would be highly inappropriate” Dr Oppenheimer pointed out, but you interrupted him.

“Haakon and Barbara are in San Jose for the weekend. You are friend of them both, so I have no doubt that they wouldn’t mind you visiting me in their absence. That is, of course, if your wife allows it” you explained with a little smirk on your face and your sudden sense of confidence surprised Dr Oppenheimer.

“My wife too, is away, staying with her mother for the time being” he explained before agreeing to your suggestion, but you would not just leave it that.

“Did you and your wife have a fight?” you asked out of curiosity, which is when Dr Oppenheimer shook his head and chuckled.

“We always fight, but that is not the reason. She is staying with her mother because I am busy and am travelling a lot these days and she needs help with our son, Peter” he then explained before stepping away from you again, increasing the gap between you.

“Now, I am afraid, I must go. I have another pressing engagement this evening” he told you and you had a sneaky suspicion that your professor was making the most of the time his wife was away.

“No doubt you do, professor. I shall see you on Sunday” you said with a slight chuckle, seeing that you already knew about his numerous affairs, including his on and off relations with Jean Tatlock.

Robert’s POV

It was later that same day, at around 8 o’clock that Robert went to a place that he had not visited in about three weeks, namely the apartment of Jean Tatlock’s in downtown San Francisco.

Ever since meeting you, he avoided her and whilst he did so subconsciously, he gave it some thought after Jean had addressed the fact that he had been ignoring her calls.

After almost three weeks, she now expressed a great desire to see him again and, considering her poor mental state, Robert reluctantly agreed.

As always, Robert brought her flowers which she disposed of rather quickly and just as she asked him inside, Robert began to explain to her that he was not there to see her for the usual reasons.

This was meant to be his final visit and he knew that, by ending their affair, he would likely break her heart. She would be devastated and that was something that concerned him a lot.

“I am not here for that Jean” Robert thus said just as Jean attempted to kiss him in a haste while pulling against his tie and suit jacket.

“And yet, you finally answered my call. Why?” she asked almost angrily, rolling her eyes before pushing Robert aside and pouring herself a drink. Clearly, she was confused and Robert had to provide an explanation to her.

“Because we need to talk Jean. This has been going on for far too long” he told her while adjusting his tie and jacket again. His facial expression was more serious than usual and that, in itself, concerned Jean.

“Oh my god Robert, after all those years you want to end it?” she asked as tears shot into the corners of her eyes. She shook her head in disbelieve and then smashed the glass she was holding onto the hard wooden floor, spilling her drink along with it.

“Jean, please…” Robert said calmly, trying to console her by reaching for her hands, but Jean pulled away.

“There is someone else, isn’t there?” she asked angrily, causing Robert to sigh deeply.

“I am a married man Jean, so yes, there is someone else, my wife” Robert tried to explain but Jean shook her head angrily and pointed her finger at him.

“No Robert! I am not talking about your wife and neither are you” she said sternly as slowly, but surely, her emotions got the better of her. She began to yell at Robert and, seeing that Jean was so upset, he did not know what else to say to her. He was lost for words.

“Who is she?” she then wanted to know and this is when she received yet another response from her lover that both, confused her and made her fume with rage.

“She is a woman who will help me change the world” Robert acknowledged somewhat reluctantly, causing the tears in her eyes to increase rapidly.

“You know that I love you, Robert. In fact, I never stopped loving you even after you married Katherine" she pleaded while trying to comprehend the situation. For years, Robert had maintained his affair to Jean even after he married Kitty and now this was going to be over because of someone else?

"And I have loved you too, but you have destroyed that love for me Jean. You pushed me away repeatedly and now I am finally it. I moved on” Robert said a little too honestly and with a lack of emotion in his voice, causing Jean’s reaction to worsen.

"I have said I was sorry, Robert!” Jean screamed almost hysterically while stepping one step towards Robert and pushing her hands against his chest, forcing him against the wall.

“So am I Jean. I truly am” he told her while cupping her face. Her tears were clouding her eyes and he sealed her faith with one final kiss before leaving her apartment for the last time, until she would call him again several months later.

Note: Unlike in real life, Jean will not kill herself in this fic. In fact, she will reappear in a few later parts, causing some havoc for the reader.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

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milfhunter6698 · 1 month ago

Text

Under pressure pt8

synopsis: Upon joining the NYC firm as a new associate, you quickly find yourself facing the pressure of working under the firm’s star senior partner, Victoria neuman. With a reputation for excellence and an eye for potential, she was searching for a junior partner who can meet her exacting standards. You, with your impressive credentials and unwavering ambition, seemed like a perfect fit…until the pressure of meeting those high expectations started taking their toll.

Warnings: 18+ eventual smut, no use of (y/n), cursing, no describing reader’s appearance, explicit language, fluff, angst, teasing, hurt & comfort, power imbalance, slight AU, some similarities to cannon, mentions of the boys characters (Hughie), slight age gap, rival associates, young!reader, older!Victoria, slow-burn, infidelity.

Notes: Wake up it’s the first of the month!! happy wednesday people, I’m planning on wrapping up this series soon, I’ll be posting the last two chapters next week and then It’ll be over, they’ll be some angst before we get there so ya’ll better be ready cause it’s bouta get real soon.

previous chapter

wc: 3.4k

It's been weeks since Victoria and you finally gave in to what you’ve been fighting for months. It wasn't sudden, not abrupt more like a slow-burning fire that had finally reached its blazing peak. Dealing with it had been surprisingly smooth, at least within the walls of the office.

Outside, appearances remain the same. You work together as closely as ever, but there are moments when you’d sneak off to a storage room or the files room, away from prying eyes. Risky, yes, but the thrill that it brought to you was undeniable.

To everyone else, it was business as usual. Between you, though, there's a shift. You don't try to hide it, nor do you air it out to everyone else at the firm. It seemed normal to the rest of the team, though Victoria doesn’t really care about the opinions of others anyway.

For you, the change was significant. Every glance, every exchange—it's all layered with a new meaning. Victoria's presence is different now, her smile holds a secret, and you can't help but feel it every time she's near.

You don't discuss it openly. It's like an unspoken pact, a silent agreement to let it unfold naturally. Yet, it's there, a constant undertone that only the two of you were aware of.

The office hums along as usual, the rhythm of your work unchanged. But for you, every moment shared with her is charged with a new electricity. It's subtle, but it's there, and it's real. You find yourself looking forward to your interactions, even the mundane ones.

In the early hours of the day, you were at Victoria’s office, pouring over briefs as you worked through a particularly tricky case. You leaned against the desk, arms crossed, while she stood beside you, seemingly absorbed in the work.

But you knew her well enough by now to catch the subtle shifts—the way her eyes lingered on you a little too long, or the soft, amused smile playing at her lips when you made a point.

As you wrapped up your discussion, her gaze flickered to your collars, slightly askew after a long morning. Without missing a beat, she reached forward, her fingers deftly adjusting them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Her fingers brushed lightly against your chest as she straightened a knot, and for a moment, your eyes locked. There was a heat in her gaze, a silent invitation that was impossible to miss.

“There. Perfect,” she said, her voice low and almost playful.

Smirking, you licked your lips, eyes darting to the door. The office was eerily quiet for this early in the day, but the risk was always there. Leaning in closer than you should have, your eyes fell to her lips, and your voice lowered to a seductive whisper.

“I’m gonna kiss you, like right now." You breathed, hovering mere centimeters from her.

Victoria's laughter filled the room, and in anticipation, you reached for her. But she evaded the touch, her lips ghosting yours as she pulled back, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Nah uh, no," she chided, her fingers playfully slamming a file onto your chest.

You gave an exasperated scoff but held onto her hand, using it to pull her closer until your bodies touched. "Yes," you spoke softly, before you claimed her lips in a swift, stolen kiss.

Pulling away, you grinned, feeling a hint of triumph. Victoria's eyes widened, and her fingers traced her lips. “Wow..” her heart pounded loudly in her ears, and she laughed breathlessly before commanding, "Get the hell out of my office."

You watched as she tried to suppress a smile, while also fighting back your own, you saluted her silently, mouthing "Got it boss,” before turning away and making your exit.

Later that afternoon, you grabbed a quick cup of coffee in the break room. It was quiet, most of the team still at their desks, busy with their work. You leaned against the counter, sipping your coffee as you spoke to Victoria about the case you were still working on.

She stood across from you, listening, but there was a different kind of focus in her eyes. She wasn’t just listening to you talk about the case; she was watching you, her gaze soft but intense in a way that wasn’t professional at all.

She didn’t even try to hide it, not from you, at least. And you were painfully aware of how close she was standing, the way her fingers toyed absentmindedly with the buttons of your shirt, and how she laughed at almost everything you said.

From the corner of the room, Hughie was there watching you with narrowed eyes, his suspicions growing with every passing second. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the way you were standing, the way Victoria’s attention seemed too focused on you, made him uneasy. And he knew that there was something going on between you two, something more than just work.

It was one of those afternoons when the city seemed to be moving faster than usual. You were rushing through the front doors of the firm, juggling an armful of case files, trying to catch up with Victoria, who was already out on the sidewalk, waving down a cab.

“Damn it. Wait!” you called out, your voice breathless as you fumbled with the papers in your hands.

Victoria, ever the efficient one, had already spotted a cab pulling over to the curb. She didn’t seem to hear you—or maybe she did and just didn’t care, because she didn’t even look back. You quickened your pace, struggling to keep the files from falling out of your arms as you weaved through pedestrians.

By the time you reached the street, Victoria was gracefully sliding into the backseat of the cab, cool as ever. You, meanwhile, were sweating, panting, and one misstep away from a complete disaster.

Just as the cab was about to pull away, you lunged forward, knocking on the window. “What the— Victoria Don’t leave without me!”

She rolled down the window and gave you an amused look, her lips curling into a smirk. “Oh, did I forget someone?”

You shot her an exasperated glare as you yanked the door open, practically collapsing into the seat beside her, the files barely staying intact. “I swear you do this on purpose.”

Victoria shrugged, her smile widening. “Well, maybe if you didn’t bring half the library with you every time we went to court, you’d move a little faster.”

“We need these for the case!”

“Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You rolled your eyes as the cab pulled away from the curb, but you couldn’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

After long arguments and witness testimonies, you finally exited the courthouse, victorious. Your mind was still buzzing with legal points, but Victoria seemed far more relaxed as you walked through building ready to head back.

“You did well in there, Counselor,” she said, nudging you slightly.

You tried to suppress a smile, as you brushed off the compliment. “I had good support.”

Victoria raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching with amusement. “Support? Is that what you call me glaring at you every time you got sidetracked?”

“I wasn’t sidetracked. I was emphasizing the finer points.”

“Sure, because quoting a Star Wars character during closing arguments is totally professional."

"Hey, it fit the context!" you replied. Before accidentally bumping into someone passing by, you mumbled a quick apology, and hurriedly strode to catch up with her steps.

She let out a short laugh, “Yeah, I’m sure the judge appreciated your ‘never tell me the odds’ speech. Very convincing.”

You grinned, rubbing the back of your neck as you replayed the moment. Okay, maybe it wasn’t your finest legal hour, but the look on the client’s face had been worth it.

“I had to keep it entertaining somehow. Not everyone can keep a straight face while being… you.”

Victoria shot you a playful glare, nudging you again as you walked. “I swear I’ll leave you to catch a cab by yourself next time.”

“You already do that.” You chuckled as you left the building, sliding into the car that was waiting to take you back to the office.

She gave you a sidelong glance, her expression softening for just a second. “Touché.” She followed behind slipping into the seat, “You know, next time, I might bring popcorn to court if you’re going to turn it into a movie.” she added.

You glanced at her, a hand on your heart feigning a hurt expression. “Come on, my Star Wars reference was gold. Besides, I’m pretty sure the judge cracked a smile.”

“She looked like she wanted to throw her gavel at you.”

You grinned, shrugging. “You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it first.” you playfully poked her on the shoulder. “I know how much you secretly love The Empire Strikes Back.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile on her face. “If I ever quote Star Wars in a courtroom, I want you to fire me.”

“Noted. But I’ll be quoting Han Solo at least twice a week now.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes at you, but the teasing in her expression gave her away. “Careful, or I’ll start quoting Lord of the Rings at our next trial.”

“As long as you don’t do the Gollum voice.”

She laughed, shaking her head and looking out the window, “You’re impossible!”

You leaned back in your seat, stretching your arms behind your head. “That’s why you keep me around.”

By the time you reached the office, striding through the lobby to the elevators, Victoria pressed the button and turned to face you.

"So... what movie are we referencing at the next trial?" she asked, just as as you opened your mouth.

"Let me guess, 'Clever girl'?" she continued, reading your mind with uncanny accuracy.

"Exactly. See? You're getting the hang of it," You replied, a smile tugging at your lips. She shook her head, her own grin growing, as you two stepped into the elevator.

It was late, the city outside of your window quiet for once. The soft hum of music played in the background as you sat on your couch, sipping on a beer after a long day at the office. The tension of the past few weeks had begun to ease slightly—things were good with Victoria, better than you’d expected. It was the first time in a long while that you felt… settled.

And then, the knock on your door shattered that peace.

You frowned, setting your bottle down on the coffee table as you crossed the room. You weren’t expecting anyone. When you opened the door, your heart nearly stopped. Your ex-girlfriend stood there, her expression unreadable, but the sight of her made your chest tighten.

“Oh… what are you doing here?”

She stood in the hallway, arms crossed, her face hardened but not angry—more like resigned.

“I’m not here to talk. I just came to pick up a few things I left behind.”

Your heart sank. You thought everything had been sorted out between you, but apparently, there were still pieces of your past lingering around your apartment, just like in your mind.

“Yeah… sure, come in.” You cleared your throat stepping aside for her to walk in.

She walked past you, her movements brisk and purposeful. There was no lingering nostalgia in the way she glanced around your apartment, no sign of hesitation. She knew exactly where she was going, heading straight to the hall closet where she had stored a few of her things.

You stood there, awkward and out of place, not knowing what to say. It felt strange—wrong, even. This woman, who had once been such an integral part of your life, now felt like a stranger invading your space.

As she packed, the silence between you was suffocating. Your mind raced, wondering if you should say something, but every possible sentence felt inadequate, forced.

“I won’t be long,” she said, not looking up from the box she was filling.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, even though it wasn’t.

A few moments later, she was done. She stood at the door with a large box in her arms, her keys and a couple of other items balanced precariously on top. She looked at you one last time, but there was nothing left to say.

“Goodbye.”

Before you could respond, she turned and left, the door clicking shut behind her. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding.

You stood there, frozen for a moment, the room feeling emptier than it had in weeks. Everything with her had ended, you’d come to terms with it—or so you thought. But now, with her abrupt visit, the emotions you had buried started to rise to the surface again.

Just as you were about to sit back down, something caught your eye. A small piece of paper had fluttered to the floor near the doorway. You frowned and walked over to pick it up. It was a Polaroid, slightly crinkled from being stuffed between things in her box.

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked at the picture.

It was of you and her, taken during a summer trip you had once gone on together. You were both smiling, carefree in a way that felt strange to you now. She had her arms wrapped around your neck, her head leaning against your shoulder. You looked… happy. Really happy.

The image sent a wave of emotion crashing over you. For a moment, you were back in that time, when things had been simple—when the biggest worry was choosing where to go for dinner or what movie to watch. Seeing your faces, so content and untouched by the complications of real life, made your heart ache.

A knot formed in your chest, tightening with every second you stared at the photo. You hadn’t thought about your relationship in that way for a while—not since things started developing with Victoria. But now, with this reminder in your hand, it was hard not to be swallowed up by the what-ifs and could-have-beens.

You sat down on the edge of the couch, the Polaroid still in his hand. Your thumb brushed over the edges of the photo, and suddenly, the apartment felt too quiet, too big, and far too lonely. For a second you considered calling out to her—stopping her from leaving—but when you glanced at the door, she was already gone.

Your gaze returned to the photo, and an overwhelming sense of guilt washed over you. Not because you still had feelings for your ex, but because for the first time in weeks, you weren’t sure if you could fully let go of that part of your past. Could you really move forward with Victoria while holding onto these fragments of what you once had with your ex-girlfriend?

You sighed heavily and placed the Polaroid on the coffee table, turning away from it as if it had burned you. The suffocating feeling lingered long after her departure, and no matter how much you tried to focus on something else, the memory of that picture stayed with you.

A few days later, Hughie found an opportunity to corner Victoria in the hallway outside her office. She was coming back from a meeting, her expression neutral, but he couldn’t shake the frustration that had been building since that moment in the break room.

“Hey um, I wanted to talk to you about something… someone actually.”

Victoria let out a weary sigh, her eyes darting to her watch with a hint of impatience. "Look, Hughie," she began, her tone a mixture of exhaustion and mild irritation, "Whatever it is, I'm afraid it'll have to wait. I'm running late for another engagement."

She took a step forward, ready to brush past him, but froze in her tracks when he uttered your name. Her eyebrow arched slightly, a flicker of curiosity passing over her features before her expression settled back into its usual unreadable mask.

“What about her?”

He crossed his arms, trying to keep his tone casual, but there was an edge to his voice.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with her lately. More than usual.”

Victoria’s gaze sharpened, and for a moment, Hughie regretted bringing it up. But he couldn’t back down now.

“We’re working on a big case together. That’s what happens when you work closely with someone.” She said flatly.

He clenched his jaw, obviously not buying it. “It’s not just the case, and you know it.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but her silence spoke volumes. She met his gaze with a steady, unwavering look, the kind of look that always made him feel like he was being measured, weighed, and found lacking.

“Is there a problem, Hughie?”

Her tone was cool, but there was a hint of warning in her words. He hesitated, unsure whether to push further or back off.

"You know what, forget it. It's nothing." He said, his voice trailing off as he realized the futility of his confrontation.

Victoria narrowed her eyes at him for a moment, her gaze piercing and analytical. After what felt like an eternity, she simply nodded, her face returning to its usual mask of professional indifference.

Without another word, she turned away and strode down the hallway with confident steps, leaving him standing there, feeling both relieved and somehow more conflicted than before.

As the early evening settled in, you trudged through the door of your apartment. Making your way towards the kitchen, you set the grocery bags on the counter, your mind adrift for a moment. Then the door's thud brought you back to the present.

Victoria entered the kitchen, doffing her coat and placing her keys on a nearby table. You focused on unloading the groceries, unaware of the polaroid she held. Her voice startled you, "That's your ex?" The image caught you off guard, your heart racing. You lunged to take it, only for her to tease it just out of reach.

"Oh you’re not supposed to—" you protested, words cut off by her insistence, "What, see it?" Her eyes narrowed, appraising the picture. Your anxiety spiked. You licked your lips, frustration clear as you ran a hand through your hair.

You tried to reach for it again, but she held up a hand in the air, gaze fixated on the picture. "It’s fine, actually-"

“No listen-“ you tried desperately but she wouldn't listen. Firmly, she spoke, "I said it's alright." But it wasn’t the undertone told a different story.

After a moment she added her voice quieter. "It's a nice pic by the way." she watched, your stomach churning, as she slammed the photo against your chest and strode past.

You took a deep breath, crumpling the photo in your pocket. Victoria's nonchalant demeanor met your gaze.

After a few moments a silent plea left your lips, "Hey Vic.. you sure everything's alright?"

"Just a pic.” She shrugged, seemingly unfazed, “Now you gonna help me make dinner or what?"

You nodded then joined her in the kitchen, the discomfort hanging heavy in the air like a thick fog. You busied yourself with chopping vegetables, while Victoria silently seasoned the meat, the tension filling the air.

The rhythmic sound of knife on cutting board and the sizzle of oil in the pan filled the silence, neither of you daring to broach the subject of the photo.

As you sat down to dinner, the meal stretched on interminably, each minute feeling like an hour. Quite persisted broken only by the clink of cutlery against plates. You stole glances at her, trying to gauge her mood, but her face remained an unreadable mask.

#lgbtq #victoria neuman #the boys #victoria neuman x reader #victoria neuman x you #fluff #au

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rea-grimm · 10 months ago

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Sleep protector Luffy

"You look awful, what happened to you?" a friend asked you when you met at a coffee shop. It's been almost a year since you last saw each other. She hadn't changed at all, while you were almost unrecognizable.

You had giant circles under your eyes and your whole body looked like a giant painting that someone had painted using red, blue, yellow and purple. You wore so many bruises that you lost count.

You had the impression that you were cursed. Bad luck was sticking to your heels, and you also suffered from nightmares that kept you awake.

You thought slipping on a banana peel was just a TV joke. That is until you did it yourself. You had no idea how many times you tripped or were almost struck by lightning, or forgot your umbrella in the biggest downpour.

It was the little things that you wouldn't mind if they weren't happening to you 24/7. What irritated you the most was when people told you not to worry about it, that it would get better if you slept. As if it were possible. Every time you fell asleep, you found yourself in an even worse nightmare than before.

Initially, you didn't want to discuss this with your friend, because it was quite possible that you wouldn't see her again for a year or so. You wanted to enjoy this day with her.

But you couldn't hide anything from her either, and you confided everything to her under her pressure. Also about the fact that you slowly began to fall into depression.

After this, your friend gave you a small gift bag. She wanted to give it to you anyway. She also had a similar one at home, and as soon as she bought it, all the bad dreams disappeared. Plus, when she saw this one, she remembered you and just had to get it for you.

After coffee, you spent almost the rest of the day together. When you said goodbye, you returned home, where you could finally calmly look at the bag you had received.

You opened it and inside was a teddy bear. He had black fur, a red vest, blue shorts and a straw hat on his head. He was cute and soft to the touch.

You didn't believe much in talismans and charms, but you took a stuffed animal to bed with you. After a long time, you fell asleep without any problems almost immediately.

It was an even bigger but pleasant shock in the morning when you woke up full of energy and without any nightmares. You couldn't even remember the last time you slept this well.

You didn't believe it, but it had to be true. Ever since you got the teddy bear, the nightmares have slowly faded away. You were always saved from them by a young man wearing the same outfit as the teddy bear.

He easily defeated all your nightmares and with a carefree smile, he then took your hand and led you into the unknown for an adventure. Be it sea battles, an island of giants or an island full of meat. He always managed to come up with some stupid thing by pure chance that ended up being good and you still laughed.

Thanks to that, you looked forward more and more to sleep and what new things you will do. You were especially looking forward to seeing him because he exuded a cheerful energy that was very contagious. You had the impression that even if he was only in a dream, he could recharge your batteries like no one else.

Since then, your mood has improved and your bad luck has disappeared. You would never believe that a good night's sleep could solve all your problems.

Even your bad luck suddenly disappeared. Instead, you found money here and there, you won, for example, some little thing for free, people were nicer to you, everything started to go well for you, and things turned out better than you expected. You never expected to experience such a turn for the better.

You were in the mood for some quick food, maybe a burger or something, and you headed into town. You went to the chosen establishment and ordered food. While you were waiting, you noticed a young man at the counter who reminded you of a teddy bear.

The young man was getting upset because he wanted to order a lot of food, but apparently, he didn't have enough money to pay. Despite all this, he did not give up.

You felt quite sorry for him, so you decided to buy him food. You went over to him and paid for him. It's already happened to you several times that they blocked your card out of nowhere, so you couldn't pay, so you wanted to make him happy.

"You're the best! Thank you very much!" the young man in the straw hat was beaming with enthusiasm and before you knew it, he was hugging you. This moment felt very familiar to you, but you couldn't remember from where. You just smiled and waved it off that it was a small thing.

You originally thought you'd grab your food and head home, but you were so captivated by his cheerfulness that you decided to stay. You ate your meal together. You had already eaten your portion while he was still stuffing himself.

After the meal, he took you to see his friends. You were glad about that because you didn't have many friends or they lived far away. That's why you sometimes felt alone. He saved you from that loneliness and after eating, you went to his group.

You originally wanted to go home after eating, but something just pulled you towards him. All his friends accepted you and you were with them until the evening. You probably never laughed so well and you even felt a little sorry when you said goodbye to them.

When you finally got home, you were tired, but at the same time filled with positive energy that you didn't want to go to bed yet. You made yourself a warm drink and sat down on the couch with plans to watch a nice movie.

You prepared everything when you had the impression that something was missing. You got up and went to the bedroom where you wanted to take the teddy bear with you. Maybe it was childish, but you wanted him with you.

You went into the bedroom but you didn't see him anywhere. You looked under the duvet, the pillow and even under the bed, but he was nowhere to be found. You searched the rest of the bedroom as well, wondering where you could leave him. Instead of a movie, you ended up spending the evening looking for a teddy bear.

You were slowly starting to panic. If you couldn't find him, did that mean bad luck and nightmares would return? Will you go back to the bottom again? Will you be afraid to get out of bed in the morning again? You fell to your knees in a panic and held your head.

How could something like this even happen to you? Was it just a dream and you will wake up in the morning to a harsh reality? Was this just another nightmare? Just a figment of your troubled mind?

Strange footsteps interrupted you from your train of thought. It couldn't be your friend, she was long gone. Would they be thieves? You really couldn't care less. It would just suit your miserable situation.

"Why are you on the floor?" a familiar voice asked you, but it lacked the classic cheerfulness. Instead of it, he was full of worries. You looked at him with tear-filled eyes. You didn't even know you started crying.

“Whoa, why are you crying? Did someone hurt you?” he asked in surprise, looking like he was ready to beat up anyone who tried to harm you in any way.

“No,” you replied in a husky voice as you wiped away your tears and shook your head. At first, you were hesitant to confide in him, but it was your dream after all. That's why you told him about the teddy bear and your fears.

"I was already afraid that someone hurt you," he breathed and smiled. "You don't have to be afraid of anything. I'm Luffy, your sleep protector,” he replied as if it was obvious.

“Huh?” You didn't understand what he meant. “But that teddy bear…” you trailed off.

"That was me," he jumped into your speech proudly. "So I protected you in your dreams, but I wanted to protect you here too," he replied with satisfaction.

You watched him and tried to make sense of it when his hands stretched out and he pulled you to him like nothing. He hugged you and rubbed his cheek on your head.

"I like you a lot more when you're happy. Tears don't suit you,” he said while cuddling you.

Everything was so real and pleasant that you believed it. And if this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up. You looked at him and kissed him. You haven't felt this safe and loved in a long time.

Luffy Masterlist

Sleep Protector Masterlist

#one piece #one piece x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #sleep protector #sleep protector luffy #teddy bear #luffy #Monster Piece

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shockinglyangel · 20 days ago

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THE BEGINNING OF THE IRRESISTIBLE - TOM RIDDLE x reader

MATURE, Warnings, Virgin!Tom, Virgin!Reader, Unprotected sex, Shit ton of narration.

SUMMERY: You’re doing your DADA homework with Tom when all the sudden he becomes a little less interested in hexes, and a lot more interested in you.

NOT PROOFREAD

You were sat at the desk in Tom's dorm, an organised chaos painting the delicate wood, parchment splayed out, some ink dribbles showing the intension and concentration of what you were doing. You scribbled down another few things, dusting off the side of your hand with your other hand's fingers, not wanting to further smudge the words on the paper.

It wasn't necessarily uncommon for you to be in Tom's dorm, you two were put together in a Defence Against The Dark Arts project, so you'd been spending a fair amount of time by his side throughout the past few weeks. Tom's dorm was always very well put together, he had a lot of space since he had no one to share it with, the walls decorated in a dark shade of green to show the commitment to his house — although Tom rather disliked the scheme. His bed sheets were dark, black to be exact. He'd come into a large sum of money unexpectedly during the summer, when asked about it he told people that it was an inheritance from his late grandparents. With this money he had been able to cover the expensive of some nice silk sheets for his bed, along with some pillows to accompany it.

You turned to look at him, your eyes traveling over his face as he stares at your handwriting on the paper, something he was trying to learn was what someone's writing style could mean — he was critical and observational like that. "Well I think that shall do it for our hexes section, is there a spell you would prefer to focus on for the jinxes?"

Tom lifted his eyes from the paper, moving his head to face yours. His eyes never quite gave away what his emotions were hiding under the mask of his face, but they were a rather nice sight to see. "Impedimenta could be of our interest."

"A spell to slow someone down to prepare an attack?" You paused, bringing the feather of the quill to your lips, brushing it over the pigmented hue in contemplation. "I am not against the suggestion."

The Riddle boy — or more alike to a man, nods his head with one simple movement, not wishing to overdo it and show too much involvement in the work you two are doing together. "Then that shall do it."

"Although," you begin, turning your body on his chair to face him better, wanting to have him a more invested part of the conversation, and figuring your attention was the only way to get him to be so. "I rather enjoy Levicorpus, it may be overused, but it is such a classic."

Tom failed to see such an argument against his option, but he brushed it aside, if you wanted to work on the Levicorpus, then he supposed you would. He didn't want to say anything, he was too busy trying to understand the feelings in his body, the rushing through his veins, and maybe other areas of his body.

His flesh was burning, and he truly wasn't quite sure as to why. Riddle is not incompetent, nor oblivious to those bodily functions, but one so overwhelming, one that he cannot push down or dismiss with a simple thought of something else? Now that was confusing. He felt his breath get tighter in his throat, like it had morphed into a piece of glass and had began to scrape the inside of his oesophagus, such a similar, yet unfamiliar sensation. Too much for someone with little experience.

He thought about it for a moment as you looked away to get back to your work, your hand so delicately holding the quill, the way the feather dances along with your movements; so precious, so graceful. So you. Tom brought his hand up, allowing his heart to take control of his body. He reached out for your face, placing but only a finger to your chin and using the pressure to bring your face back to his.

The act of his finger, even if only one, was so intimate, and intimidating all in one. If the touch made up of only one bone could have your heart shoot up into your mouth, what could two or possibly three do? You dropped the quill, placing it down on the parchment as your head was moved to face him.

Both of your chests had somehow managed to move in unison, like your hearts were beating in a similar rhythm, like everything up to this moment had you so disconnected, but now you are one. Keeping your eyes on him, you watched his move down to his finger which then became two, traveling the intensive digits down your neck and to your tie. He added his thumb, messaging it down the fabric of the green, striped elongated triangular shape.

At this point you couldn't help but look down, his hand making it's journey to the slip of your tie, holding it between his thumb and middle finger, loosening it from around your neck before giving it a pull. You looked closely as the tie was removed from around your colar, watching as he places it on the floor.

It was as if all of your formality had gone from your figure as the piece of fabric was taken from you, something so exciting yet confusing, your body begging for more answers.

Tom's fingers didn't stop, moving back to your shirt and undoing the top button, causing you to lift your head up for better access. He blinked for a moment as the dip of your neck was revealed to him, his newfound mass of blinking making it seem as if he was a victorian man seeing a pair of ankles for the first time. A piece of your skin; so unimportant and small, yet such the thing to affect his put together demeanour.

His eyes shot between yours and the shirt, his fingers not faltering as they continued to undo your buttons, his gaze becoming more fixed on your skin as it was revealed. Tom was a starving man, someone with little to no intimacy, never to know the feeling of a warm body under or beside his, but God, did he crave it.

Riddle swallowed as he undid the final button, unsure of what to say. There were no words he could think of, his brain to scattered and disorganised to find the sentence he should be speaking. You were the same, your chest moving with rasher movements, deeper breaths digging the oxygen into your lungs as if you could consume the scent of him there and then.

You could see in his eyes that there was more than a desire of the simplicity of removing your tie, or the drive for his fingers to unbutton each and every button of your shirt. There was more, always more. You both knew it, and you weren't to be the one to stop it.

You were quick to take the initiative, looking down at his lips before back to his eyes and finally, finally leaning in, the plushness of your mouths crashing together in a feverish dance, a destiny untold in the stars, known to everyone around you, and yet hidden from your eyes.

He breathed desperately against your lips, his hands moving to connect with your cheeks, cupping you in his grasp as if he would lose you if you were to slip out of his touch. His hands were rougher, colder against your skin, the temperature a stark contrast to your own.

Tom's tongue grazed your bottom lip, as if silently asking for the approval of taking things further. You accepted almost immediately, allowing his tongue to enter past your lips and into your mouth, finding yours and fighting with it as if he had something to conquer. You to conquer. He slowly but surely allowed his hands, which were almost trembling from uncertainty to move to your shoulders, pushing your already opened shirt down your arms, his palms taking in the newer feel of your arms and the prominent shoulder blades as he pulls your shirt down, tossing it to the side and leaving your torso in only your bra.

You took his initiative of a sign for you to take action as well, your hands leaving your side of the desk and wandering over to him, to his tie. Your hands fumbled for a moment, struggling to remove his tie before triumphantly pulling it off and letting it fall from your grip to the dorm floor beneath the two of you. Next was his white button up, but you wasted no time to undo it, Tom not allowing you as he pulled away from the kiss after you successfully undid the top four buttons, his impatience getting the better of him as he reached down to pull it up over his head before reconnecting his lips with yours.

It was like he was hungry for you, as if he could not survive without a taste. He allowed not one of you to catch your breath during the kiss, or even in the moments between kisses. Perhaps he thought the added oxygen would make your heads clearer and cause more logic to your actions. He did not want to think logically, he did not want to think at all.

"Get on the bed." His voice was slightly quieter from his usual tone, his lungs reeling in the need of air, but all he needed was you.

You nodded quickly, moving to sit on the bed, him not wasting even a second before following after you, his hand coming down onto your thigh, pushing up underneath your skirt, causing shivers to arise on both of your skins. You both knew where this was going, although neither of you were strong enough to, nor wanted to stop it.

He grabbed you by your hips, his hands sliding up to your waist as he lifted you up, placing you further back on the bed. His mind was filled with the desire of the evening, all the ideas in his mind spinning like an unstoppable wheel of destiny, and it would not stop until he had you, he could not force it to halt until the two of you were corrupted by dark desires and the feel of one another's body.

It had to be you.

He had grown needy in your absence, those nights alone when the only thing that was left to do was to lay in bed with only the memory of you, his hand doing the work that he had so desperately wanted you to do, his mind imagining it was you, it could only be you.

He crawled over you, placing his knee in between your legs to part them, his lips finding yours another time as his hand went back to your thigh, running over the burning flesh of your leg, and oh so desperately wanting to go further. His free hand dipped under your back, causing you to arch it for him, allowing just enough space for his touch to travel down the skin of your back, truly not wanting a single piece of you to miss out from the feel of him.

He found the attachment of your bra, unclasping the material with a slight pop, his lips pulling away from yours to look at you, so open and vulnerable for him, and only him. It was no mystery to Tom that you hadn't done anything like this before, the way you allowed him to guide you, to instruct you and tell you what to do. He knew you were a stranger to the touch of a man, especially a man that wanted you as bad as Riddle did.

His hand made its way back to your front, his large palm placed flag against your upper abdomen before turning around to allow his two middle fingers to hook under the middle part of your bra, pulling it ip in anticipation. You helped him, your own hands going to your shoulders to remove the straps, pulling them down and allowing him to do the rest.

Tom's brain could've short circuited the moment he saw your bare chest, your eyes displaying a look of vulnerability and nerves in them as his eyes revelled in the exposure of your body to him. He traced a hand over one of your breasts, his palm riding over the hardened nipple, his body reacting to the arousal of your own.

The tent in his trousers was all but noticeable, it blended in too well with the black colour, however it was uncommon to see him wear any other colour, he was quite picky like that. Regardless of how visible it was to the untrained eye, he wanted you to know the impact you and your body had on him and his. He reached down for your hand, taking it from your stomach where it rested. He swiped it over his bare chest, trying desperately not to give away how needy he is for you, and how much he desires your touch. Then finally, he ran your hand down to his bulge, his fingers wrapped around your wrist in a commanding way as he allowed you to touch his most intimate area.

Your breath was quick to get caught in your throat another time, even inside the casing of his trousers, behind a whole fabric prison, you could tell how large he was; and how hard you were going to struggle with this — but you were both learning, neither of you had done this before.

Riddle grabbed your skirt, slipping his fingers under the sides of your waistband and pulling in hopes to remove it from your body. You let out a small laugh at his anticipation, the look on his face as he realised he couldn’t pull it from you. “It’s a button up.” You spoke up, breaking the silence that he had created, or perhaps that was a joint task.

He looked at your slightly frustrated before searching around for the buttons, using his fingers as an anchor, waiting for them to hook onto something he could unfasten. “Where the bloody hell is it?” Tom was at his wits end now, he had you so close, yet so far due to these darn buttons. The desire in his body was brewing over, his veins more prominent on his arms.

You moved your hand down to your side, showing him the buttons before undoing them with your fingers, it was only two buttons, but Tom’s feelings were too overwhelming to take the time to find them.

His mind was anything but clear when he slipped your skirt off in a moment of liberation, a small — very small smile across his normally harsher looking face as he removed the fabric from your body, leaving you in only your underwear, shoes, and socks.

Perhaps he didn’t quite think through the order.

One of his feet went to the back of the other as he slipped off his down shoes, his feet then finding yours and successfully removing them, listening to the almost deafening sound of your small heels clattering to the ground, scratching his brain in the worst way.

His mind became more aware as he leaned back up, the buckle on his belt louder than it had ever been, the buttons on his trousers somewhat harder to undo, the ticking of the clock beside his bed almost mocking him for doing this so late. He was only but an adult when he discovered the need to please, and the desire to be pleased anymore.

The ticking started to become louder, more aggressive, and he couldn’t allow himself to waste any more time pretending he doesn’t feel anything, that his apathetic mind was even so far removed from the intricacies of needing another for sexual pleasure. But he wasn’t, and he needed it now.

He removed his boxers hastily, before tapping the outer side of your thigh, silently ordering for you to lift your hips for him as his hands went to the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off in one swift motion and throwing them down to the pile of clothes below.

Tom had never been naked in front of anyone, not since he was a baby anyway. It was somewhat freeing, to have someone see everything he was quite proud of, he knew he wasn’t terrible to look at, he just didn’t prioritise it above other things.

He moved closer to you, placing his hands either side of your head, his arms holding him up over you, his eyes pining into yours as if looking for you to show signs of discomfort or unwillingness, so then he could stop himself from making possibly his greatest mistake. When you showed no emotions of uncontrollable vulnerability he looked down to where the two or you would connect if he was to move just another inch.

And then he did.

You looked at Tom as his eyes bore back into yours, his body finally connecting with your own like a missing key, he had unlocked something in you as his body pushed into yours, entering you seamlessly, your arousal aiding his movements as he did so. Your mind was blocked, as if the only thing you could think about in that moment was the man in front of you, on top of you, inside of you.

It was hard to stop yourself as your mouth fell open, his hips retracting before moving against yours again, trying to figure out for the first time what either of you liked. It was different, and expectedly slightly uncomfortable. His delicacy tearing past your innocence and corrupting you just how he had wanted to.

And yet he was still unsure of what he was doing. Sex is simple when you hear about it, read books about it, learn about it. But not knowing it from experience is something everyone has to learn, even the great Tom Riddle had to teach himself the ways of the body, and it seemed he was doing a fair enough job.

Tom had obviously read about it, how else is one supposed to keep their mind occupied when they do not desire to give into mindless, and meaningless debauchery their peers were so familiar with? It was the only way to keep that last string of remaining semblance and not snap, to not give into what his body craved.

But he failed today.

His body became faster, his movements more intentional and desperate, as if he knew what he was chasing and exactly how to get there. Your eyes closed as he hit those sensitive spots inside of you, the places that brought both pain and pleasure, and you wanted both. Your head tilted to the side, your cheek resting against the cold silk sheets on his bed.

“Look at me.” His voice spoke with a slight rasp along with a shake, his vulnerability almost captivating as you looked back at him, your eyes staring directly into his. His body never stopped its movements, the hair on his head almost bouncing along with his thrusts, tipping forward as if gravity begged his soft locks touch you. He pushed his head forward as his biceps felt your fingers on them, placing his face in the crook of your neck, his lips gracing your skin as he murmured against it. “Merlin.”

It took every ounce of your self control not to find your orgasm in that very moment, the way his lips touched your skin, the sound of his words against your neck, the way his body felt — God, he was captivating.

He pulled back up, moving himself so he could kiss you again, his hips finding a comfortable rhythm as the sounds of his bed grow louder and louder, as if the poor thing was begging not to be fucked upon. Tom showed no care for the bed’s voice, nor for the clock ticking and timing his every move, his mind too torn to focus on anything besides your body on his, the way you felt around him, and how thrilling it felt to be inside of you.

The two of you were nearing the edge, your bodies dancing together as you moved against him, trying to help him find your pleasure points, although he was not doing a bad job at it. You let out a string of moans, his lips continuing their assault against your as his hips picked up their pace, his movements becoming sloppier as he found himself arriving at the peak of pleasure.

You felt the same, your lips failing to move against his as your breath came out in more laboured gasps, your body almost feeling like it’s levitating as his touch took you to another world.

You couldn’t stop yourself when it hit, your mouth opening as your face contorted. Your body shook as your eyes forced themselves shut, the pleasure was becoming overwhelming, you had hit the most anticipated part of the evening, and you had only Tom to thank.

Riddle’s head moved back to your neck, not wanting you to see the face he would make as he finished inside of you, spilling everything he has left from his body, his breath coming out a huff against your skin as he fills you for the first time. He let out another almost groan sounding vocalisation as you arched your back at the feeling of his aftermath stilling inside of you, his body coming to a halt as a wave of realisation washes over him, his mind suddenly more in tune with the sound of the clock ticking, or the breathing of you underneath him.

He had lost his virginity, and he had taken yours.

Neither of you dared to even look at each other, not wanting this to become any more real than it already had, your hands slipping from his arms and onto the bed as you tried to catch your breath, and catch your thoughts along with it.

However, the one thing you did both share in this moment was the knowledge that this was not going to be the first time, that now there was some reason for uncontrollable passion amongst your disliking for one another, and that you now had no excuse not to settle your arguments in a way much more fulfilling.

#harry potter #slytherin boys react #slytherin #slytherin boys #theodore nott #draco malfoy #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini #tom riddle

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nieceeee · 1 year ago

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“BEST FRIENDS”

Pairing: Bestfriend!ony x reader have been friends for years. They do everything together from matching outfits to matching tattoos. But is Ony getting to close to his friend?

W/C: 1.6K

A/N: This is really a fluff from another story. I currently have 12 books right now lol and its a lot but I do a lot of writing dumps to get it out of my brain so enjoy this. Cute nicknames used. Black coded writing. Best friends to potentially something more… let me know if i should keep it going

“Ony what the fuck is that?” His big brother asks, walking up to him and tilting his head to the side. “It's a tattoo dipshit what else.” Ony says. His big brother rolls his eyes before raising his hand and bring in it down on him, right against the plastic covering the sensitive skin. “FUCK!” Ony lets out, the pain searing through his neck. “That's what you get fucking smartass. I knows it's a tattoo but, what the fuck is the date on the tattoo.” he questioned him. Ony stretches his neck, trying to relieve the pressure from the slap. “The date me and y/n met.” He groans. His brother shakes his head and walks back towards the desk, propping himself on the corner.

Ony was about to speak but is interrupted when the door opens and you stroll in, headphones in your ears playing your favorite song. You walk in clueless, bopping your head to the beat. Ony bites back the smile playing on his lips. You finally lift your head and look around the room. “Why yall staring?” You ask. “So I’m guessing this idiot isn’t the only one with a new tattoo, huh?” His brother asks you, raising his brow. You roll your lips together to keep the smile in as your eyes glance over to Ony. He smirks at you. “Well?” His brother urges. You sigh, and roll your eyes before lifting the corner of your graphic t-shirt. Right on your lower right hip was a sliver of plastic covering the matching tattoo ink on your skin. The similar infinity symbol with your friendiversary and your initials branded your hip just like the one on Ony’s upper neck, behind his ear.

“What the hell is wrong with y’all?” His brother questions, shaking his head. Ony opens his mouth to speak but his brother cuts him off. “You know what. Don’t answer that.” You give Ony another look and you both bust out laughing. “Idiots.” his brother mumbles under his breath. You shrug your bag off and plop down on the couch next to Ony. You notice his tattoo is slightly redder than before he left your shared apartment. “Damn what happened to you?” You ask, snuggling into his side. Ony tosses his arm on the back of the couch over your shoulders. “My brother is a dick, what’s new.” He says, the pain still surging through his neck. “Alright, enough playing around. Let’s get to business.” His dad says walking in the room.

After the meeting was over, you start to grab your things. You feel a heavy set of arms wrap around your waist. “Onyyy.” You fuss trying to push him off. “Hey prettygirl. You ready to go?” He asks still holding on to you. “Yeah, I need some food.” You say flipping around in his arms. He smiles down at you. “What you want me to feed you pretty girl?” He asks you. You pretend to think deeply, scrunching your eyebrows and tapping your chin in thought. “Aight bruh, you doing too much. What you want to eat?” He rushes you. “I don't knooow, I want seafood but I also could tear some birria up. OH, and some ramen too.” You list out. “Really, y/n.” He says with a straight face. “Well you asked.” You shrug your shoulders. He finally releases you. “Okay, order your food.” He says. “But I don't know which one I want.” You pout. “So get all of it. Have it sent to the apartment.” Only says pulling out his card and handing it to you. “Really onybunny?” You squeal, snatching the card from him. He shakes his head at you. “You and this damn nickname, I swear.” He says feigning annoyance. You knew he wasn't bothered by it. You had been calling him that since yall were kids. “Yo, Ony can we talk with you for a second.” His brothers call from behind him. “Go ahead. I’ll meet you back at our place, cool?” He says. You nod and lift up to your tippy toes to press a gentle kiss under his chin. He leans down right after you flatten your feet and place one on your nose, another ‘thing’ you do to each other all the time. You shift your bag onto your shoulder and head out.

Ony turns to his older brothers once you left the room. “What’s up yall?” He asks them, a slight look of confusion on his face. They exchanged glances with each other before his oldest brother speaks up. “You don't think y’all are getting too close?” He finally says. “Who?Me and Y/N? Where is this coming from?” Ony asks them. He felt his annoyance start to rise but kept his composure. “I mean I get it. She's your bestfriend. But matching tattoos, thousands of dollars on cars, diamonds. Just how deep is this going Ony.” He questions. “You been watching my account?” Ony says, agitation surging through his blood. “I watch everybody’s account. As the financial leader of both companies, that's my job. And even if I didn't. You think we don't hear the rumors? How many girlfriends you run though because you don’t ‘treat them like your bestie’ or the fact that y/n comes in here everyday for training with a new set of jewelry? Come on lil bro. Be real with us.” He says.

Ony looks around the room at his brothers, each with a different face, some of concern, some evasive as if this was something they’re been avoiding discussing. “So, I’m guessing this ‘family meeting’ wasn’t a coincidence, huh?” He asks, rolling his eyes and slumping down into a chair. “Don’t be like that Onyonkopon. We are your brothers. We are just looking out for your best interest.” One of the others spoke up. “Do you seriously think y/n would use me?” He questions them. “Y/n is a good girl but I don't know how I would feel if someone started dropping racks on me.” His brother shrugs. Ony reels his anger back into his body and takes a deep breath.

“Look,” he starts. “Y’all have known y/n nearly as long as yall have known me as your brother. Y’all were here the day I found her and before then. And even in her most broken moments, she’s never wanted anything from me. The gifts, the jewelry, all of it. I had to force her to even take it.” He explains. They started to shift slightly. “And the thousands? I make that shit in my sleep. Besides y/n has her own money. And anything I give her she matches that shit right back.” “What you talking about? She gets you stuff?” His brother asks, eyes widening. “Yes, but she doesn’t use the accounts we have. She has her own. You think I bought that Royce out there? No. That was her trump card for me buying her the damn Bentley for her birthday.” Ony explains. “And the jewelry?” He questions. “You do realize I come in here with a new watch everyday right?” “She bought you those?” He asks, leaning forward. “Every single one.” Ony expressed to them. Their faces turn solemn at the accusations they made.

“Listen, I know yall are looking to for me and I love y’all to death for it.” Ony starts. “But yall are wrong for this and yall know it. Y/n has been in my life since I was 6. Yall have watched us both grow together. Y’all know both of us better than that.” He says. “We know. We know.” His brother sighs. “Yeah, we are close. We are best friends. We went to school together. We literally live in the same damn apartment. But that’s where we stand.” Ony shrugs. “Okay, bro we get it. Like you said, we love you and we are just looking out for you.” He explains. “And her and I will always be best friends. Until we turn 45.” Ony says. “HUH?” They look to him confused. “Oh, we made a pact. If we are both still single by the time we are 45, we are eloping and traveling the world together.” Ony shrugs, laughter coating his words. “Ony, what the fuck?” His brother said as they laughed together

After their “family meeting” Ony quickly made his way back to your apartment. “Y/n? You here pretty girl?” He calls out as he unlocks the door. “Yo?” He calls again after not getting a response. He walks towards your room and hears the sound of running water. Your voice carries over the song you had blasting over the speakers. Ony smiles to himself and he steps back and turns to his own room. He tosses his things to the side and jumps in the shower himself, tossing on some grey sweats and walking out to the living room. You walk out of the back of the house in an oversized tee and some shorts. “Bruh is that my shirt?” He asks you. “Yes, and what about it?” You say, placing your hand on your hip and cocking your head to the side. “I literally buy you clothes and you stay in mine.” He shakes his head at you and walks over to the couch. You giggle to yourself. “So, was everything okay with your brothers?” You ask him sliding right next to him on the couch. “Yeah. Nothing to worry about.” He says.

Ony knew you like the back of his hand and he knew telling you would only make you stress. That was the last thing he wanted. “You sure onybun?” You look up at him. His deep brown eyes meeting yours. “I'm positive. I love you pretty girl.” He says softly. “Love you too Ony.” You smile. He pulls you close and turns the tv on. As you turn to watch tv, he finds himself pulling you closer, his thick arms wrapping around your body, keeping you snug to his. Yeah, bestfriends…

#ony x black reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon fluff #onyankapon #aot #aot x y/n #aot fic #aot fluff #aot x black reader #aot x reader #x reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #nieceenotes

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marvelmusing · 10 months ago

Text

Blood Hunger

Part of the Tender Loving Care AU

Pairing: Vampire!Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Summary: Aleksander takes you on your first ever visit to a feeding den, remaining by your side to offer advice and support for this new and unfamiliar experience.

Warnings [18+]: blood, typical vampire themes, blood consumption, allusions to sexual content, usual soft dom vibes from Aleksander

My Masterlist

The feeding den Aleksander takes the two of you to is unlike anything depicted in the films and television shows that are so popular with humans, or from what you’ve seen in the wild selfies and videos posted on Instagram by much younger vampires.

Most feeding dens are similar to nightclubs, allowing both human and vampire patrons inside as long as they are above the legal drinking age. The higher scale feeding dens are more selective, only allowing vampires who have a membership into the building, aside from the humans who work there.

The humans working at all respectable feeding dens are regularly tested to ensure that their blood is clean and healthy to avoid any diseases from being passed onto the vampires feeding from them. High scale dens, like the one Aleksander has brought you to, also provide their human workers with plenty of benefits to ensure that they remain both physically and mentally healthy. After all, being fed on can be an intense experience.

“How do you decide who to…”

As your gaze lands on a human, tilting her head back for a vampire to sink his fangs into her neck on the other side of the room, your words trail off into nothing. Hunger stirs in your stomach at the sight, despite your nerves.

“How do you decide who you would like to feed on?” Aleksander suggests knowingly.

You nod.

“Generally just whoever smells the most appealing.”

Subconsciously, your eyes trace over the exposed skin of his throat, lingering on the thrum of his pulse as his heart beats its steady rhythm. When you realise you’ve been staring, your cheeks flush with a flustered warmth and the corner of Aleksander’s lips twitch with the hint of a smile as he observes where your gaze has focused. One of his dark brows lifts, his smile spreading into a smirk as you drag your eyes away from him to survey the floor once again.

“Although for today I would suggest you take comfort into account, instead of taste,” he adds.

His words make you frown, and you tilt your head as you turn back to face him.

“What do you mean?”

“Since it’s your first time, you should pick someone who doesn’t intimidate you - someone who will make you feel at ease about biting them.”

The only person you’ve ever fed from is Aleksander. Just the thought of feeding on someone else has apprehension prickling over your skin despite the fact that you haven’t fed since yesterday at noon. There’s a gnaw of hunger in your stomach and the urge to bounce your leg to dispel the nervous energy runs through the limb in question. He brushes his knuckles against yours in a reassuring motion. Staring down at his hand, nerves continue to roll over in your stomach and your thumb scratches lightly against the palm of your other hand.

“How will I know when to stop?”

Aleksander places his hand over both of yours, enveloping them entirely with his palm which halts your nervous fidgeting, knowing that if you scratched for long enough your skin would break under the scrape of your nails, causing your palm to bleed.

“Only selfish vampires are the ones who succumb to their instincts. You aren’t a selfish person, milaya.”

There’s hesitation in your eyes but as soon as they meet Aleksander’s, and find nothing but genuine belief there, some confidence fills your chest. Inhaling shakily, you nod, and he provides your hands with a gentle squeeze. When he loosens his hold, his hand drops down casually to settle on your thigh as a reassuring pressure that reminds you of his presence by your side. Despite his confidence, concerns and worries continue to tighten around your lungs.

“You still look worried,” he observes.

“Where am you supposed to bite?”

He considers your question briefly before he shrugs casually.

“It depends on your preference,” he explains, circling his thumb gently over your thigh. “Some people find the neck too intimate for a casual feeding, while some struggle to find the right angle for the wrist. Whatever is easiest for you both.”

“Would you stay with me?”

He nods.

“If that’s what you want?” You nod quickly and a soft smile traces over his lips. “Has anyone caught your eye?”

There had been a young man who gained your attention earlier, though his features bear an almost embarrassingly close resemblance to Aleksander, which makes you rather reluctant to admit how appealing he seemed. Rather pointedly, you keep your gaze fixed on the buttons of Aleksander’s shirt.

“He’s too young,” you say quietly in a mumbled protest.

Aleksander laughs, a sound that makes you blush, his teeth flashing as he tilts his head back slightly. With amusement sparkling in his eyes and a carefree grin on his face, he doesn’t look over four hundred years old.

“I hate to tell you this, but with that mentality almost everyone here is too young for you.”

The smile that tugs at your lips is sheepish as you look down at your feet, swinging them back and forth momentarily.

“Except for you.”

His expression softens as he nods with a smile.

“Except for me.” There’s a small pause as he holds your gaze before he reminds you in an almost teasing voice, “But you can’t feed on me all the time.”

Aleksander stands, pushing his chair back into place before he extends his hand out towards you.

“Let’s go find him then,” he says, his eyes alight with laughter despite the low lighting around us. Taking his hand, you frown at him and stand up by his side.

“Who?”

“That young man you had your eye on when we arrived.”

Your jaw drops and Aleksander laughs again quietly. Immediately, you clasp your hands over your face to hide the embarrassed blush spreading over your cheeks. Had you truly been that obvious?

“Stop it,” you protest weakly, trying not to smile at the sound of his laughter.

He chuckles, tugging you into his side as we move around the chairs. As always, your body slots easily beside Aleksander’s and he settles his arm around your shoulders, a reassuring pressure to keep your steps even with his. He lowers his head down to murmur against your ear,

“If you do well, I’ll feed on you afterwards.”

At that, your head perks up.

“Really?”

He almost looks surprised by your reaction, his head tilted aside whilst his lips flicker into a half-smile.

“If you would like you to?” There’s some hesitation in his eyes, as he scours your face in an attempt at reading your thoughts. You nod instantly.

The man you had noticed earlier is seated in a booth at the far end of the den. There’s a pitcher of ice-cold water and a handful of glasses perched in the centre of the table, alongside a small candle that flickers through a frosted glass jar. The dark emerald leather seat curls in a half-circle around the polished wooden table.

Nervous energy thrums through your body. How do you politely ask someone if you can drink their blood? He offers you a friendly smile, raising a brow as he glances between your uncertain eyes and Aleksander hovering behind you as a safety net.

“Hungry?” the man asks.

The smile that tugs at your lips is sheepish as you nod, and he slides over in the booth to provide some open space beside him. Despite Aleksander’s teasing earlier, the man doesn’t look much younger than you, physically. Hesitantly, you move forwards as Aleksander stands beside the empty seat opposite you.

“You don’t mind if you stay, do you?” Aleksander says casually.

His words are phrased like a polite question, but his tone makes it evident that the two of you would simply find someone else if Aleksander wasn’t allowed to remain with you. It doesn’t come to that though because the man shakes his head amicably.

“Not at all.” He glances at you, raising a brow with an unfaltering smile. “First time?” You nod and he offers you his hand to help you sit down beside him. “I’ve done this plenty of times before.”

Nerves continue to buzz uncomfortably beneath your skin. If your hands weren’t clasped so tightly together in your lap, they would be shaking for everyone to see. But Aleksander’s presence in the seat opposite you provides some reassurance, allowing you to focus on the man beside you and the task at hand.

“I’m James.”

Smiling nervously, you offer him your name in return.

“Have you fed on anyone before now?” he asks.

Immediately, your flickers over to Aleksander while you fidget with your fingers, smoothing the pad of your thumb over each of your nails.

“Just one other person.”

James nods in acknowledgement, his easy smile unfaltering as he tilts his head to look at you.

“Where would you like to start?”

There’s a moment of hesitation as you think through the different places you could bite before you offer him a suggestion.

“Wrist?”

He nods again, unbuttoning the cuff of his left sleeve.

“Sounds good to me.”

At the sight of his bare forearm being revealed, your mouth goes dry. His heartbeat is only slightly elevated in anticipation, though he appears to be quite calm about the situation. He said he’s done this on a number of occasions which comforts you a little. At least he knows what he’s doing - and Aleksander is here with you.

Slowly, you take James’s hand in your own, bearing his wrist with veins openly on display. If the unnaturally chilled temperature of your hands unsettles him he doesn’t show it, which you appreciate. Inhaling a deep breath, the scent of his blood fills your senses and your mouth waters. You glance up at his face again, assessing his expression, and he gives you a small nod of consent.

Closing your eyes, you extend your fangs and bite down into his skin. Hot, fresh blood pools into your mouth, a delightfully savoury taste that you swallow down eagerly with a small hum of pleasure. It’s different without Aleksander’s hand at the nape of your neck or cupping your jaw and you feel slightly unbalanced without his touch to ground you.

You drink until you’re almost satisfied, allowing his blood to just take the edge off your hunger, since you don’t want to risk taking too much from him. Licking his wounds feels too intimate, but you don’t want to leave him openly bleeding after the bite, so you keep your mouth over the puncture marks until the blood has slowed considerably. Only then do you lean back, giving him some space after feeding on him.

Sucking your tongue against the front of your teeth, you attempt to clear the rest of his blood from your mouth. James breathes out a soft laugh, his head slumped back against the seat behind you. Aleksander had mentioned that with more time your venom would be strong for him, and you can only imagine how it might affect a human like James.

His smile lingers as he tilts his head lazily towards you, blinking through the haze in his eyes as he does so. When he manages to sit up, he straightens himself with a palpable energy alight in his eyes. He looks rejuvenated as he slides a hand into his hair, ruffling it slightly as he breathes out another quiet laugh of disbelief. Blood hunger sated, the tension has melted from your chest, allowing you to breathe easily and offer him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

He nods instantly, hands splayed on the seat beneath you on each side of his thighs. Despite the fact that he’s lost blood, there’s a flush to his cheeks and he seems ready for anything. Usually, you feel tired after Aleksander feeds on you, most likely from the combination of his venom and the loss of blood. Being fed on clearly has the opposite effect on a human.

“If you ever need a feed, I’m here most evenings.”

His offer stuns you momentarily but you nod in response. When he tilts his head pointedly towards the rest of the club, you slide out of his way to allow him out of the booth. The two of you part ways after an exchange of nods and smiles.

There’s a slight wobble in his legs as he walks towards the bar, and you find yourself watching him as you sit back down onto the edge of the seat. Too surprised by James’s response to your bite, you don’t realise Aleksander has stood up as well. He nudges your knee gently with his, encouraging you to slide further into the booth, which you do.

“That was easier than you thought it would be,” you admit.

Aleksander smiles widely at you as he takes a seat in the open space beside you.

“You did very well.”

Warm blood rushes to the surface of your skin, as he presses his lips softly against your cheek. His nose nuzzles affectionately over your cheek, as he breathes in the scent of your blush, his chest expanding with the depth of his inhale. Your stomach flips at the sound of a small hum of pleasure catching in the back of his throat and he presses a gentle kiss to your jawline, tracing his way up to your ear.

“You smell delightful.”

The heat of your skin prickles down the length of your body.

“I do?”

He nods, humming quietly in confirmation, and his next words, a low admission, are murmured against the shell of your ear.

“My teeth are just aching for a bite of you.”

Tilting your head backwards, you bear as much of your throat as possible for him to feed from, your eyes fluttering closed in anticipation of his bite. When nothing happens, when there’s no sting of pain from his fangs descending into your skin or flood of pleasure from his venom, you open your eyes and blink at him in confusion.

Aleksander cradles the back of your head with one of his hands, the nape of your neck fitting perfectly in the palm of his hand. His fingertips graze over the hollow of your throat and there’s no doubt he can feel the bob of your throat as you swallow. His eyes scour over your expression intently.

“May I?” he asks.

You nod. He waits patiently for you to find your voice.

“Yes, please.”

He smiles though there’s some distance in his eyes as he appears to think something over in his mind.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Would you… would you mind if you made this bite a little messy?”

You blink at him.

“What do you mean?”

“When I bite you, my venom encourages you to relax and stay still, meaning the puncture wound is always small. But if I were to tilt your head slightly during the feeding-” he demonstrates the motion, tilting your head back slightly with one of his fingers now tucked under your chin “-your skin would tear, meaning there would be more blood for me to feed on.”

His hands drop down to settle casually on your thighs, a comforting weight as he remains close to your body without crowding you too much. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the cool air brushing over the skin that had previously been shielded by his hand.

“You don’t have to agree. Some people find it enjoyable.”

In your ears, your voice sounds as breathless as you feel, your lashes fluttering at the sight of his darkened eyes in the low light.

“Enjoyable?”

“Well,” he starts with a small smirk. “I would have to clean up the mess with my tongue.”

There’s a beat of silence while Aleksander’s eyes twinkle with amusement at the sight of your widened eyes.

“Oh.”

The thought of Aleksander’s warm tongue moving over the length of your throat, lapping up the blood that spills from his bite, makes heat curl through your body. Once again, he traces his knuckle along your jawline to keep your eyes on his as if he can sense how flustered you are. He cocks his head, curiosity sparkling in the depths of his gaze as he examines you.

“Are you aroused?”

Instantly, your legs snap together, the bones of your kneecaps clashing as you press them closed. The heat spreading over your cheeks dives down your body.

“No.”

He purses his lips together momentarily, suppressing the laughter that shimmers in his eyes at your sudden reaction.

“It’s alright if you are. Feeding in public is a rather intimate affair.”

“It’s not the feeding.”

He lifts a dark brow.

“It’s not?”

“This… this doesn’t happen to me very often.”

His brows draw together for a brief moment, his forehead creasing slightly as he observes your widened eyes and heated cheeks. Then the corner of his mouth lifts and a softness creeps into his dark eyes.

“Oh, sweet girl, is it me?”

His doting tone has you teetering on a knife’s edge of a great big something. Something that you’re desperate for, your fingers prickling with the urge to sink your nails in and claw at this feeling to get what you want - and Aleksander is what you want.

“Aleksander, please, bite me.”

There’s a glimmer in his eyes, as if he’s considering teasing you even further. Though the temptation of biting you seems too much of an incentive for him to move closer.

He takes your chin gently between his fingers, turning your head to one side to reveal a large portion of your neck for him. His nose traces over your pulse as he breathes in your scent. Your heart pounds expectantly, waiting for him to bite down on your throat, anticipation tingling over your skin.

“Ready?”

You nod. There’s a brief pause as he extends his fangs.

“Breathe, little love.”

It’s only then that you realise you’ve been holding your breath and light-headedness has descended. He waits until you’ve taken a soothing inhale, your lungs filling with air which instantly alleviates most of your nervousness. He watches you breathe steadily for several moments. Then Aleksander sinks his teeth into your skin.

Like always, there’s a small sting of pain that quickly diminishes as his venom begins threading through your veins. A muted whimper catches in the back of your throat and you breathe out a heavy sigh as bliss fills your body.

Aleksander’s hands slide up your thighs, slipping beneath your skirt to squeeze at the crease where your thighs meet your hips. His sudden touch in such an intimate area has you gasping, your head falling backwards as you shift yourself closer to his body. The movement itself causes Aleksander’s fangs to drag through your skin, drawing more blood to the surface.

He holds the back of your head, preventing you from moving any further to ensure that he doesn’t spill too much blood. He sucks diligently on the wound, swallowing down as much of your blood as possible. A rivulet of hot blood traces its way down your throat and you shudder at the sensation. Aleksander withdraws his fangs from your skin to lap up the line of blood running down over your collarbone. Sticky blood continues to bloom from the puncture wounds as his tongue licks over your thundering pulse, removing the blood that is already beginning to dry there.

He breathes heavily from the exertion of feeding, each breath brushing delicately over your skin in a gentle caress. His venom helps the skin close naturally, though it takes longer than usual since the wounds are larger this time. Aleksander keeps his face tucked into the crook of your neck, tongue tracing lazily over your skin whenever a droplet of blood rolls down from the wound.

Aleksander’s venom threads its way through your veins, filling your limbs with a comfortable heaviness. Your entire body is enveloped in a sense of comfort and warmth, like being cocooned in a soft blanket, and your sense of hearing is limited to the pounding of your heart, beating a steady rhythm as you also attempt to catch your breath from such an intense feeding.

The sound of Aleksander pouring a glass of water is distant and muffled. Even with your eyes closed, focusing your attention on him as he drinks some water helps you to reorientate yourself. He encourages you to drink some water and you’re surprised by how dry your throat is.

“Easy,” he murmurs. “Small sips.”

It takes some difficulty to do as he says, but Aleksander’s hand at the nape of your neck helps to control the speed of your drinking.

Slowly, the rest of the world comes back into focus. Aleksander’s body shields you from most of the sights and sounds of the club, which seem too bright and too loud compared to earlier. It’s then that you notice the concern in his eyes.

“Can I come home with you tonight?” you ask him quietly, fingers curling into the fabric of his sleeve. He nods, expression softening further.

“Of course. Now?”

You nod. There’s a shakiness to your legs, they feel almost disconnected from the rest of your body as you look down at your heels. Despite being well practised in wearing heels, the thought of walking has apprehension clouding your mind. Aleksander notices your frown.

“What’s wrong?”

It’s difficult to string your thoughts together into something coherent to say to him as an explanation and your lips part for a moment. Nothing comes out as you attempt to gather your concerns.

“I don’t think I can walk in heels, but the buckles look too complicated for me to unfasten in this state.”

He breathes out a soft laugh.

“Well, there’s an easy fix for that.”

He descends onto one knee smoothly, crouching down to unbuckle your heels. His thumb circles soothingly over where the strap has been pressed against your ankle, offering a tender touch to a place you hadn’t even realised was hurting. He squeezes gently at your calves, fingertips casual in their motions, right where you can feel the muscles trembling slightly from the aftermath of his venom.

He tilts his head aside, his eyes scouring over the length of the floor. It takes you a long moment to realise that he’s searching for any broken glass or spilt drinks that might hurt your bare feet or cause you to slip on your way to the exit. When his gaze returns to meet yours you smile softly in appreciation, and he offers his hand to help you stand.

The smooth polished stone that makes up the flooring is surprisingly warm against your bare skin, and you frown down at your feet.

“Underfloor heating,” Aleksander murmurs quietly in explanation.

“Oh.” A pleased shudder runs from the soles of your feet up to your chest. “It’s really nice.”

He breathes out a quiet laugh, keeping you tucked close into the side of his body. He’s warm too, and you find yourself gripping onto the front of his shirt - both to keep your balance and to make the most of his warmth. The straps of your heels hang delicately from his fingers, swinging lightly as you walk.

As you near the exit, goosebumps prickle over your skin and Aleksander shrugs his jacket over your shoulders to protect you from the cool breeze. He presses you close against his side and when he notices your questioning look he murmurs against your temple.

“Your body temperature is about to drop after being fed on.”

Almost instantaneously, a shudder wracks through your body and you grip tighter onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to draw some heat from his body to yours.

He stops at the top of the steps that make up the entrance of the building and you frown at him. The frown on your face deepens when his arm tightens around your shoulders, his other arm reaching for your legs. A small squeal of surprise escapes your lips as he sweeps you up against his chest and you wrap your arms hurriedly around his neck to steady yourself. Aleksander’s smile is wide as he carries you down the steps.

The sudden shift from the heat of the club to the darkened streets make your shivers relentless, your body trembling in the desperate hope of creating some warmth of your own - despite how impossible that is. When he notices your teeth chattering, concern fills Aleksander’s features, and he begins to walk faster towards his car.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you bury your face into his chest to ground yourself and cling to a little more warmth. When you reach his car, Aleksander places you into the passenger seat with ease, pressing a reassuring kiss to your forehead before he closes the door behind you.

Once the keys have been turned in the ignition, Aleksander dials up the heating system and a delightfully warm rush of air floods over your face. Eager for more, you hover your hands in front of the vents to warm your ice-cold fingers. He takes your hands in his own, cupping them between both of his palms to shield them from the cold that lingers in the air of the car. Gently, he begins to rub against your fingers and the friction encourages some warmth to settle beneath your skin.

The two of you stay like this for a long moment, Aleksander warming your hands as you continue to shiver occasionally due to the last slivers of cold leaving your body. The car hums quietly and combined with the rush of hot air they provide a soothing ambience that has your eyes growing heavy. Exhaustion is common after being fed on and all you want to do now is curl up beside Aleksander and go to sleep.

With your fingers still feeling half-numb from the cold, you fumble with the clasp of the seatbelt, trying several times to buckle it with limited success. After your third or fourth attempt, Aleksander takes it from your hands, slotting it firmly into place for you. When your eyes lock, your cheeks warm and offer him a grateful smile. An unreadable emotion crosses over his eyes but he only nods in acknowledgement, shifting his attention towards the car as he puts it into gear.

He turns to look out of the rearview window, placing his hand on the headrest behind you as he does so. When his eyes skim over you, concern touches his features and he says quietly,

“Feel free to get some rest. Traffic should be light at this time, so we’ll be home soon.”

Home. The thought of Aleksander considering the two of you together at his house as a home has a cosy warmth spreading in your chest which encourages you to close your eyes. As always, the reassuring sound of his heartbeat and breathing has a sense of calm filling you as you anticipate each soft exhale. Before you know it, you’re falling into a comfortable slumber.

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow

#tender loving care au #aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #vampire!aleksander morozova #vampire au #vampire!reader #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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byemambo · 2 months ago

Text

4Minutes EP. 6 - My Takeaways

Y'all...The way I was working OVERTIME trying to figure out how I wanted to explain my thoughts for this episode (this post is extremely long: take that as you will). So please welcome OG TymeGreat vs. NDE (near death experience) TymeGreat and their timelines (everything else under the cut!):

Great Version

Tyme Version

Key Events: Assessing the Timelines

I listed out key events that I felt matched up within each existing timeline (and I'm sure I missed more key events/details that aren't listed in my findings), no matter the person nor alternative reality they're in. For Great's timeline, the key events include:

Waking up to take his exam

Hitting Manee with his car

Receiving the call from Title

Korn being attacked

Great learns Tyme's identity as the attacker

Great confronting Tyme at the hospital the next day

Great confronting his parents for their crimes

Great renounces his ties to his family

While these events occurred regardless of the different decisions Great could make, what was striking to me was Great's distinct characteristics that existed in both timelines while also having characteristics individual to their respective timelines. For OG Great, he's extremely defiant and cynical, especially if he's able to get a rise out of his father for reasons prior to knowing about the business, I'm not exactly sure (except for him being the mistress's son before the first wife committed suicide).

Episode 6 vs. Episode 1

Given that we didn't get any scenes of him bonding with Korn throughout the episode unlike NDE Great, I can only imagine there's a bias towards Korn as the favorite son between the two where one listens and submits while the other vocal and disobeys. Along with being defiant and having the guts to gauge the wold with cockiness, he is also a coward that's easily persuaded and manipulated. This shows up most during scenes like the hit and run or when Title demanded Great to help get rid of Dome's body and in turn, become an accomplice to the crime.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 1

OG Great also operates on this mindset of being silver spooned his entire life more explicitly than NDE Great, and becomes hot headed when placed under immense pressure once he's unable to play mind games with his targets such as Tyme. Even though their hook up and Tyme leaking his sex tape caused a scandal with his dad's company, the amount of trauma Great has dealt with growing up (this kid never played a crane machine game so I can only imagine how lonely his upbringing was) resorts to him chasing after those dopamine hits and becoming shameless as a result.

One of the few times OG Great chose his own morals and acted upon them in the storyline was when he found out about his parents and their involvement with the scheme, but this decision only occurred when people he cared about died or got hurt, like Nan and Tyme. Because he had developed a short spanned codependency on Tyme (whether for more sex or because he found his serious demeanor amusing), once he had been left with nothing due to reasons beyond his control, he leaves his family behind after the confirmation of their crimes.

Unlike NDE Great, OG Great is self centered and only acts when pushed beyond his limits, but only if the consequences of that limit involves someone he genuinely cares about (this is the stark difference between Dome's demise versus Tyme's meltdown after Nan's death). Sure, people can argue that Great knows Tyme at a similar level of depth like he knew Dome (apart from being sexually involved with one another), but his interests peaks in Tyme once he finds out that he's seeking revenge against his father and finds that mere effort entertaining for him. In the OG timeline, Great's flaws directly causes his detriment in the end, getting shot by Dome's older brother Tonkla in vengeance.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 5

In Tyme's timeline, there aren't as many moving parts that we saw on screen as much as Great's (since their particular story is limited narrative through Great's perspective) but these events remain consistent in his story:

Tyme works a hospital shift

Den tells him about his NDE research

Tyme works the night shift with Great in his proximity

Tyme attacks Korn in search of Nan

Great confronts Tyme at the hospital the next day

What I found most interesting in OG Tyme's timeline was how linear and straightforward the events occurred in sequence, which would have been the case if Great never asked him about his occurring NDE symptoms like he did in the NDE timeline while being under Tyme's care. Tyme's prior knowledge to Den's research served as a seed planted in the back of his mind, which if Great hadn't asked him (if he chose to help Title get rid of Dome's body), Tyme would have went along with his plan and shelved Den's research with no intention in intervention. The difference in approach between OG Tyme and NDE Tyme was rooted in their initial encounters, both being Great bumping into Tyme and how it was handled.

If Great continued heading his way, Tyme's initial impression of Great would have been slightly annoyed (which we saw a preview of how he yelled at Great during the first cardiac arrest Great had when he bumped into Tyme and didn't help him). But if Great stopped to apologize and even help Tyme with the papers, there is a hint of consideration in that gesture, even if Great himself is a flawed person capable of doing bad things. For some, basic human decency isn't a mind blowing trait for people to fawn over, but this can be contrasted when Tyme asks P'Anne for his information and finally gets confirmation of Great's identity.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 1

Episode 6 vs. Episode 3

From the perspective of Tyme who's dedicated his personal life in bringing down the family responsible for the death of his parents, I'm sure having a painted image of what inhumane and vulgar things the family is capable of, Great's first impression as the younger son of the enemy is somehow normal? As if this man isn't capable of hurting a fly, let alone killing people like his father does (why did I think of fucking Lord Ozai and Prince Zuko when proofreading this loooooord someone send me to bed asap). Rather than treating Great as just a means to an end with no prior attachment and full intent in harming the family's reputation as OG Tyme would have, NDE Tyme's prior interactions with Great by him helping Tyme with his papers (the readiness to correct his faults while providing a solution to aid in the damage caused, big or small), Great bringing his hurt friend to the hospital without acknowledging his own injuries (a sign of selflessness and reliability) and asking Tyme about his symptoms related to his cardiac arrests and moments of NDE, there are layers being shed off of Tyme's preconceived notions about the family.

Episode 2

Episode 6

Not only are there layers, Tyme's curiosity peaks because why is the son of the family who killed his parents seemingly harmless and clumsy? Shouldn't someone of his background be more cautious and conceal himself more, especially when speaking to a stranger such as Tyme? Does he know what his parents do and the damage they have caused for countless families and victims? In comparison to OG Great who's callous and bold, NDE Great is soft and easily startled, therefore, needs a more calculative and somewhat honest approach to secure a connection to get closer to bringing the family down.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 3

Characterization: A vs. B

When writing my reflections, I found it interesting how TymeGreat's relationship develops within their respective timelines, especially how each encounter they had with one another fueled different emotions and residual feelings. In the OG timeline, their relationship is innately lustful with distance between them, their main objectives involve concealed vengeance, amusement in the series of events occurring between them and not being able to access the full story of the two worlds both individuals were a part of before their paths crossed.

Whereas in the NDE timeline, their relationship began with a curiosity that defied expectations and welcomed communication, such as asking intimate questions and offering valuable solutions to majority of their problems: Great asking Tyme about his cardiac symptoms, Tyme consulting Den about his research after Great's conversation, Great confiding in Tyme about his upbringing, Tyme revealing the cause of his parents' death, Great confronting his own family for their crimes and seeking accountability. All of these traits wouldn't have been present if that initial hit and run played out differently: they would have crossed paths regardless but their attitudes and motives would shape the state of their relationship.

Episode 6 vs. Episode 3

Episode 6 vs. Episode 5

However, there are innate traits that remained consistent in both characters. Great with his impulsivity and tackling his problems head strong, Tyme with his nonchalance and caring attitude towards the people he loves (such as his grandmother). What really caused the divergence of their whims were purely based in the circumstances they find themselves in during their initial encounters. When they met at the bar, Great's impulsivity charged the motion of their relationship, ending with his cowardice separating the two once Nan died at the hands of Samarn. Tyme's detached attitude that drove his girlfriend away from him and poses concern from Den as a fellow doctor in how he denies his patients of their own identity and autonomy, causes him to take advantage of Great's relations to the family, ending in his own death after denying the bribe by Great's father.

Episode 6

Episode 1

Despite it all, the most significant element that both Tyme and Great share is the leverage both have over one another through their emotional attachments, which may seem small in comparison to more flashy events within the storyline but for these two characters: it makes a world of a difference. When NDE Tyme reveals his identity during the ambush against Korn, which led Great to help Tyme find Nan and as a result, saving her life. This is critical as OG Great is inherently a coward with a dopamine deficiency and enjoys causing trouble for his father's reputation at his own demise.

Episode 4

When Tyme is willing to risk his life exposing Great's family to the press, Great reminds him of his grandmother, driving Tyme to accept the bribe from Great's dad and find safety at Aunt Ging's house together. Unlike OG Tyme, whose reserved and passive attitude enables his life to be filled with the absurd and mundane, that money is the driving force of life and the root of all evil that took his parents away from him, so what else is there to live for as long as he avenges his family?

Episode 5

Now for my questions for the last two episodes: if Great dies in the OG timeline and is actively dying in the NDE timeline, since Tyme's destined fate to die in the OG timeline has been altered once he's notified of Great's condition in the emergency room by Den, he has a chance of avoiding death that OG Tyme suffers from. It may be a stretch but look at the two hit men who targeted Tyme and Great.

Episode 1 vs. Episode 5

The hit man in episode 1 look significantly younger than the hit man in episode 5, but same facial hair? The shadow in the first image throws me off but it's freaky to speculate as it sent shivers down my spine whenever I got a better screenshot of them. If I put my two brain cells together: in the OG timeline, Tonkla targets and shoots Great but Tyme is also shot in episode 1, which makes me believe that their timelines are converging somehow as both of them enter their 4 minutes of limbo and their memories and experiences are warped.

In the NDE timeline, because Dome is saved and returns home to Tonkla, the only person reasonable in targeting Great would be Manee after she finds out which family is responsible for her son's involvement in illegal business (which her giving up her life savings and being given the 4th card during her ritual that calls for separation of loved ones). This separation in question is the separation of Tyme from Great as Great's fighting for his vitals to stabilize just as Tyme rushes to the OR?

Because NDE Tyme goes with his grandmother to Aunt Ging's instead of sending her on her own as OG Tyme does, both of them are technically off the radar from being targeted, or at least bought enough time to make a safe escape if Great's father goes back on his word outlined in the proposed bribe. Seeing as Tyme's wearing the same shirt in both timelines at this point, we're now waiting to see how this will play out, and I'm literally so excited to lose sleep all over again.

Episode 1 vs. Episode 6

If you made it to the end, pat yourself on the back! And if you've been actively reading my previous posts regarding my takeaways, I really appreciate the love they've been getting! I'm more than happy to hyperfixate on this series and help out with really digging deep in the details that could help those who are having difficulty following along with the series. Idk, y'all got to yell at Bible on Twitter then because he thinks he's so funny tweeting this:

If y'all would like to read more, check out my tags and thank you again for sticking around, see y'all next Friday or whatever day my brain finishes finalizing its thoughts to share with y'all :)

#4 minutes #4minutes #4 minutes the series #bible wichapas #jes jespipat #jesbible #thai bl #thai drama #thai series #bl series #mambo.4minyap #mambo.speaks #call me the yap master atp #i'm just an elite employee #also needed to relieve stress making pretty gifs of jes and bible before tackling this post #which thank y'all for liking them!#kisses to everyone mwah mwah mwah <3

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mariacallous · 1 month ago

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Wading through the latest dreck from the 2024 campaign, it seems that a racist congressman from Louisiana has demanded that the mythic dog-and-cat-eating, “vudu”-practicing Haitian immigrants of Springfield, Ohio, slurred by Donald Trump on the national debate stage earlier this month, “better get their mind right and their ass out of our country before January 20th.” Or else. Under pressure from colleagues in the House on Wednesday, the congressman, Clay Higgins, deleted the social-media post. Then hours later he told CNN that he stood by it anyway: “It’s all true. . . . It’s not a big deal to me. It’s like something stuck to the bottom of my boot. Just scrape it off.” Asked about the controversy, House Speaker Mike Johnson called Higgins “a dear friend of mine” and a “very principled man.” As for the tweet, Johnson, an ostentatiously devout Christian, replied, “We move forward. We believe in redemption around here.”

Outrage is an impossible emotion to sustain in this age of manufactured political outrage. I know it; Higgins and Johnson surely know it, too. Indeed, they are counting on it. Who, after all, will remember this particular bit of hate speech next week, when there will undoubtedly be so many newer, fresher outrages to be upset about? But still. Maybe pause a minute on this one. While Democrats agonize over the proper levels of policy detail required to prove Kamala Harris’s suitability for the Presidency, Trump and his acolytes have gone deep into the racist recesses of the American psyche to run a campaign meant to stir the passionate hatreds and deepest insecurities of their followers.

J. D. Vance recently made the mistake of publicly admitting the artifice inherent in all this. In an interview with CNN’s Dana Bash, the Republican Vice-Presidential candidate was asked about the alleged Haitian pet consumption and why he and the former President kept bringing up a story that had no basis in fact. “The American media totally ignored this stuff until Donald Trump and I started talking about cat memes,” he said. “If I have to create stories so that the American media actually pays attention to the suffering of the American people, then that’s what I’m going to do.” When Bash expressed shock at his admission, Vance backpedalled, but barely, claiming that he had, in fact, heard “firsthand accounts” from his constituents, causing him to spread the rumor, never mind that they were swiftly debunked. “But,” he concluded, “yes, we created the actual focus that allowed the American media to talk about this story and the suffering caused by Kamala Harris’s policies.”

Days of coverage ensued about what he did or did not admit in the interview, lost in which was the important point that this was not a “gotcha” story about a single errant statement from Vance but a core belief that has underpinned the MAGA approach to politics since Trump’s demagogic début, nine years ago. The jokes about Trump’s “they’re eating the dogs” debate line might have missed the point, which is that when the laughter fades, the slurs remain. This is how propaganda works. Ask Congressman Higgins.

I was reminded of this when I received a call from Fiona Hill, the top National Security Council aide on Russia for much of Trump’s Presidency. Hill told me that she was stunned by how similar Vance’s defiant embrace of the radicalizing power of stories, whether true or not, was to the views advanced by Vladimir Putin’s chief international propagandist, the Russia state-television personality Margarita Simonyan: So what, in effect, if we make stuff up? “I was just really struck: RT and VT—Vance-Trump—are the same,” she said. “It’s the same weaponization of migration and disinformation.”

The episode recalled for Hill an incident early in Trump’s Presidency, in November of 2017, when Trump tweeted out several inflammatory videos from a British far-right group purporting to show attacks carried out by Muslim immigrants. British officials contacted Hill, urging her to get the White House to have Trump pull down his tweets and disavow them. But, she said, when she brought the concerns to the White House press staff, which was then run by the current governor of Arkansas, Sarah Huckabee Sanders, she was rebuffed. Hill was told that Trump was simply using the videos to further his domestic political agenda. When Sanders was then asked about the tweets by reporters, her response was an uncanny preview of Vance’s recent remarks: “Whether it’s a real video,” she said, “the threat is real.”

Vance’s justification for the Springfield slur—that he was really making a point about “Kamala Harris’s policies”—is a reminder of another one of the big lies powering this election: the charade that Trump is actually an ideological MAGA warrior engaging in legitimate and substantive policy dispute, and that that policy agenda is what makes him appealing to his otherwise unrepresented followers. This canard has been one of the most persistent fallacies we’ve heard from Republicans about Trump, a category error that fundamentally misses what kind of politician he really is.

I was reminded of this often overlooked point while moderating a book launch for “The Origins of Elected Strongmen: How Personalist Parties Destroy Democracy from Within,” an important new academic work by Andrea Kendall-Taylor, a former national-intelligence official covering Russia and Eurasia, and two academic colleagues, Erica Frantz and Joseph Wright. Their study places Trump in the international category to which he properly belongs—that of an aspiring autocrat who has taken over the Republican Party and turned it into a “personalist” vehicle for himself, the type of party that, in the authors’ words, exists “primarily to promote and further the leader’s personal political career rather than advance policy.” This is now a global phenomenon, the authors found—from Brazil under Bolsonaro and Turkey under Erdoğan to less cited cases in El Salvador, Georgia, Poland, Senegal, and Tunisia. Putin’s Russia, regrettably, is the modern archetype, a template going back more than two decades that the others have followed.

Where does all this leave the non-MAGA Republican? We actually know the answer to this one: they are hunkered down, still largely planning to vote the party line, averting their eyes, ignoring the slurs, and pretending that Trump and his campaign are something other than what they are. Nikki Haley offered a pretty clear version of the contortions required by the hard-core Republican partisan who both hates Trump and is voting for him anyway, because, well, the policy. During the début of Haley’s new Sirius XM radio show, on Wednesday, she struggled to explain why she was now publicly endorsing a man that she called “toxic” and “totally unhinged” just a few months ago. She said that she had not forgotten his campaign’s personal attacks on her—including, apparently, putting a bird cage outside of her hotel room to emphasize his insult of her as a “bird brain”—but that she was willing to overlook the insults now, because “politics is not for thin-skinned people” and she needed to think of “the good of our country.” She then listed the economy, the border, national security, and “freedom” as reasons why she would make such a sacrifice. Uh-huh.

To the extent that Trump is promoting policy in 2024 at all, his proposals largely revolve around a single theme: he will wave his magic wand and make problems go away. At the G.O.P. Convention in Milwaukee, he promised, “Under my plan, incomes will skyrocket, inflation will vanish completely, jobs will come roaring back, and the middle class will prosper like never, ever before.” In his rallies, he pledges to end the war in Ukraine “in twenty-four hours.” The Republicans’ all-caps political platform, which was approved at the Convention in Milwaukee after being personally dictated, in part, by Trump, contains planks such as vows to “STOP THE MIGRANT CRIME EPIDEMIC” and “MAKE OUR COLLEGE CAMPUSES SAFE AND PATRIOTIC AGAIN.”

Earlier this week in Georgia, Trump appeared at a campaign rally that was billed as a policy rollout for his plans to inaugurate “a new age of American industrialism.” In between extolling his proposed tariffs as a brilliant scheme to “take other countries’ jobs,” Trump, the policy maven, questioned Harris’s intelligence and patriotism, attacked electric cars (except those manufactured by his supporter Elon Musk), and said immigrants were “coming from all over the world” to ruin the country. Trump’s signature moment in this rally, as in other recent speeches, was when he recounted his takeaway from the two assassination attempts against him: “People say: It was God, and God came down and He saved you because He wants you to bring America back.” Still think this is about policy? Kamala Harris might need an eighty-two-page economic plan printed out on glossy paper, but not Trump. His was sent from Heaven above to rescue us.

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or0ch1maru · 11 months ago

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can i request the akatsuki members reaction to the reader wearing a prosthetic mask and having burn scars under it? (like sally face lol)

Omg this yes

The akatsuki has seen and been through A LOT. They may be hardened criminals but they would also be the most understanding about pretty much everything. They would just show it differently.

🏮Tobi:

•I feel like he’d be the most understanding since he wears one for similar reasons. He would never pressure you to remove your mask or show your face. He’d be so patient about it too, even if that meant waiting years.

•when the time comes when you feel comfortable enough to show him, he’d look at you with pride. I could see him gently caressing your scars and telling you how proud he is of you and that you’re so beautiful/ handsome.

•Tobi would never hesitate to show you how much he cares/loves you. Especially if he knows you’re feeling a little insecure. Would plaster your scars with kisses and gentle touches. He would also go out and buy you creams, whether it’s scar cream, or just regular moisturizer. Tobi would take his time massaging it into your skin, not missing a spot.

•he would offer his mask to you(if yours broke or it didn’t feel comfortable against your skin) Tobi would think you’re the cutest person in the world if you took him up on that offer, but yet again he thinks you’re the cutest person ever regardless.

🏮Zetsu:

•I personally feel like white Zetsu would be more comforting towards you about it. He wouldn’t push or pry, he’d be curious yes, but he wouldn’t force you to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or unsafe.

•black Zetsu would keep his curiosity to himself and would be content either way. If you trusted him enough with showing him your face, he’d never break your trust. He wouldn’t tell anybody, no matter how much they would ask or beg even.

•all in all, Zetsu would be happy as long as you are. He would feel honored that you trusted him.

•has a hard time voicing his affections and feelings so most of the time Zetsu would randomly caress and touch your face, over the mask when around others, and would pull your mask up so he can see your face when you’re alone with him.

🏮Itachi:

•sweet boy.

•just like Tobi, Itachi would never coerce you. Would be so attentive and patient.

•when the day came that you took your mask off in front of him for the first time, he’d fall in love with you all over again. To know that somebody feels so safe around him to show him something nobody else knows, he’d be so happy.

•the first thing he would do is kiss you. Wanting you to know that he loves you no matter what. (We love a non judgmental man)

•Itachi would always ask you before touching your scars and would never get upset if you said no. (If they were still sensitive or you weren’t comfortable with that yet, etc)

🏮Kisame:

•big shark man..oooof. Kisame is the type of man to love you for who you are, no matter what. Even if you had webbed feet or four eyes.

•kisa has gone through moments where he would feel insecure due to his looks and sheer size. Always wondering how he could be loved by somebody.

•so when you decided to take your mask off in front of him for the first time, his eyes would be hearts. No literally ❤️_❤️, this would be how he’d stare at you for the first few minutes after.

•from that point on he would cup your face in his big hands, planting a big ole kiss on you. When it gets colder, he’d use his body heat to keep your face warm. Knows that scars can be sensitive and sometimes even painful when the weather shifts.

🏮Kakuzu

•never really cared for anything or anybody except for money so when you came along, you intrigued him more than cash ever did. Which is rare for him.

•would be very accepting towards the mask, since he wears one too.

•wouldn’t voice it right away but he would think you’re a total badass when he sees you without it for the first time. Makes a comment about you being a mini him. Tends to use humor and soft jokes as his main way of showing affection.

•if you ever felt comfortable enough, would totally let you wear his mask. He would think you look so cute. He’s also a big gift giver so I could imagine him getting you a custom mask. Would make that man feel good seeing you walk around wearing something he gave you.

🏮Hidan:

•our sadistic baby. When you two first met, he made a comment about you being just like Kakuzu. “What’s with you people? Why hide all the time?”

•wouldn’t think much of it at the beginning, only because he’s around a handful of people who wear masks and use other things to hide their identity.

•when he puts 2 and 2 together and realizes you wear it for a different reason, he would be so protective of you. If he sees someone trying to remove your mask, he’d freak. Say bye bye. If he hears others talking bad about you for wearing it, he would make sure they know to keep their mouths shut.

•his protective nature would only increase after you show him your face for the first time.

•whenever the two of you are out and about, he would keep a spare tube of moisturizer on him in case you needed it.

•he’s always seen as some cultist asshole but he has a soft side(if you disagree, argue with the wall lol) would coo cute little praises and compliments towards you. He’d want you to know how pretty you are at all times.

🏮deidara:

•would react similarly to Hidan at the beginning. He’s so used to Sasori hiding his real face/body from the world so he wouldn’t bat an eye towards your mask.

•when you got comfortable around him to show him, you’d be his muse.

•deidara would draw and make small sculptures of you with his clay. Would place them proudly on his desk/bedside table, etc. only if you want him too, of course. he wouldn’t do it if he felt like you weren’t 100% in on the idea.

•would marvel at you anytime he got, even during times when you two were around others and your mask was back on. Deidara loved the idea that he has his own little private art piece that only he sees.

🏮Sasori:

•just like deidara, Sasori wouldn’t think twice about why you keep yourself hidden. Wouldn’t force, push, pry, or beg you to take it off. He wants you to feel safe around him for you to do so.

•Sasori is more reserved and quiet compared to the rest of his akatsuki mates, but that would change the day you showed him your face.

•compliments such as “gods you’re irresistible”, and “come here, let me paint/draw you” would slip past the red heads lips.

•his biggest pride is his art, so just like Dei, you would become Sasori’s muse. Would love nothing more than to sketch your features all the time. He wants you to know that he loves you. So much

•another thing I could see him doing, as long as you’re comfortable with it, would be for him to draw or paint on your scars. His paintbrush would be soft against your skin as he moves the brush all along your face. Sasori would take in the soft hums and contented noises you make as he does this.

🏮Konan:

•would think your mask is cute, especially if you added things to it to make it suit your personality more(stickers, small drawings, etc)

•Konan would compliment your mask all the time. “You’re so cute, you know that right?” Or “I don’t know how much cuter you could get. Mask or not.”

•she would want to add something to your mask, would definitely make an origami butterfly to stick on there somewhere. I could see her choosing your cheek. She would also randomly come up to you and kiss your mask

•the day that you show Konan what you look like without it, she wouldn’t say anything at first. She would simply plant her lips softly against your scars, making sure to cover them completely with little affectionate smooches.

•everyday after that when you two are alone she’d lift your mask slightly, wanting to see your face as it’s her happy place. Would smother you in soft kisses before gently pulling it back down.

🏮pain:

•being the leader of a criminal organization can be hectic, chaotic and stressful. Wouldn’t pay much mind to the mask for quite some time, not because he doesn’t care but he wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable if he draws to much attention to it.

•he’d be in his office when you knock. His first thought would be that you’re going to talk to him about a mission but would turn speechless when you take your mask off. His gaze lingers on your scars as he takes in your beauty.

•pain would gesture you to come to him, pulling you into his lap as he gently traces your scars with his finger.

•he would reassure you that you’re beautiful, and that he is so proud of you for taking such a big step in trust.

•eye contact is a big thing for him, as he feels like it’s an intimate connection and would always make sure to look you in the eyes when he compliments you so you know he means it.

I hope you enjoy this, it’s been a while since I’ve written anything so excuse this if it sucks. I’d love more soft writing prompts about the akatsuki🥰

#akatsuki #akatsuki members #konan headcanons #akatsuki konan #itachi fluff #kisame x reader #kisame akatsuki #zetsu x reader #tobi akatsuki #obito headcanons #kakuzu headcanons #kakuzu x reader #hidan headcanon #hidan akatsuki #sasori x reader #sasori akatsuki #deidara x you #deidara x reader #deidara

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darklinaforever · 5 months ago

Text

So apparently... The Cat King would be a predator for some because...

- He trapped Edwin in town.

- He tried to sleep with him in exchange for his freedom.

- He continued to flirt with him.

- He gave him a task (which seemed) impossible to force him to come back to him.

- He monitored Edwin through his cats.

- He threatened Edwin in the forest.

So... all these things are more or less true, except that it forgets to take into account certain CAPITAL things which give a completely different point of view to the situation between the Cat King and Edwin.

- Edwin's punishment first came about because of the cat he trapped with a sardine. The Cat King therefore returned the device by casting a similar spell on Edwin by trapping him with something that Edwin loved, namely men. He basically tied them.

- Then, yes the Cat King offered sex to Edwin in exchange for his freedom. But you forget that the Cat King's kingdom is all about wants and pleasure. It is essentially linked in one way or another to desires. And very clearly, he perceived from the start that Edwin wanted him. Think about it, if he perceived that Edwin liked men, he definitely must have perceived that he liked him too. In this context, the Cat King proposed a sex session to a person he liked and who liked him in return. But again, Edwin didn't even need to verbalize his discomfort. Just as the Cat King felt that Edwin was attracted to him without any apparent discomfort, he felt the very moment or the atmosphere change and Edwin eventually felt uncomfortable. And in fact, he immediately suggested something else, while covering himself from Edwin's view. For what ? Because he is a fair and consensual Cat King.

- Do I even need to point out that no, flirting does not equal predation ? The Cat King flirts quite nicely and doesn't pressure Edwin into accepting at all. He just flirts and expresses what he has to offer, and leaves it alone if Edwin doesn't agree.

- The task that the Cat King imposed on Edwin was not impossible. Difficult perhaps, but not impossible. The simple fact that Edwin managed to count all the cats, while including the Cat King himself, who was also forgotten in the total number in passing, is proof of this. Especially since don't you think it's pretty damn convenient that at no point do we see Edwin himself looking for the cats, and most of them seem strangely content to just show up ? to him gradually ? As if their goal was precisely to be seen ? Yes, I'm a fan of the theory that the Cat King made Edwin's job easier ! But even if that’s not the case ; once again the conclusion of this task is proof that it was not impossible at all. And then, the Cat King himself says why he gave this task to Edwin. And this is not to try to make him choose the voice of sex, contrary to what the antis maintain. But just to spend more time with him. It's ultimately that simple.

- Then, it is normal in fact for the Cat King to keep Edwin under close watch, since he asked him to accomplish a task in his city. (Even though yes, he clearly also did it for his own personal pleasure, one does not exclude the other)

- And... I think we're all sane enough to understand that the threat in the forest was just wind and the Cat King would never have really done anything to Edwin ? I mean...that's literally what happened. (So why the hell have I seen people seriously mentioning this ?!)

The fact is also that all of this, yes, can fall within the framework of predation.

Having trapped Edwin, trying to seduce him, flirting with him when he had already refused the first time, monitoring him, etc., can sound like the Cat King being a predator and Edwin the prey with whom he is playing.

And that's the case !

But not really for the reasons you think.

When people talk about the Cat King as a predator, they mean it in the purely human and unhealthy sense of the term. Which is a false reading of the character who... is simply not human.

Because, an important detail, which once again changes the context of the situation, the Cat King is literally a natural predator. It's a cat. So again, it's his basic nature to be a predator, and also to love games as a result.

As @jaks21 pointed out to me in the comments, the Cat King has the overall behavior of a cat: "I think it's also being forgotten that the cat king isn't human. He can shift into human form, but he is essentially a cat. This is all cat behavior. They have absolutely no sense of personal space (unless it's their own), they like the thrill of the hunt and they like to play."

The Cat King is none other than the subtle balance / mixture between an animal and a human. Purely and simply.

His problematic behavior, associated with the term predatory, comes from the animal aspect of his person which is then counterbalanced by more human and therefore more reasonable reasoning.

Yes, in fact, everything I mentioned at the beginning, functions as predatory behavior if you don't dig beyond the simple headlines of the Cat King's actions and combine that if he were a human, will give a damn bad image of a big disgusting pervert.

(But all this for the Cat King is also and above all in the context a form of games. And yes, it may seem creepy but remember once again that the Cat King is really a cat. And cats, as a reminder, actually like to play a lot).

Except that as I have demonstrated, the Cat King's actions have very clear, precise and understandable explanations which relate to the supernatural universe in which the characters are immersed and evolve. Not only that but also the attitude of the Cat King character towards Edwin's refusal, and his point of honor on being fair and consensual. He will never force Edwin. Consent remains essential. Which is not the behavior of a predator as we understand it in our reality.

Once again, the Cat King is a predator, yes, but because he is above all a cat. A fucking animal just happens to be a natural predator. It's in his genes. We're not talking about an adult human stalking 16-year-olds to coerce them into sex.

Ps : I'm posting this while I'm quite tired, so maybe some things won't be clear... 😅

#catwiw #cat king #the cat king #edwin payne #cat king x edwin #edwin cat king #cat king and edwin #edwin and cat king #the cat king x edwin #edwin x the cat king #the cat king and edwin #edwin and the cat king #the dead boy detectives #dead boy detectives

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clubdionysus · 4 months ago

Text

[BAD DECISION #55] Secrets

warnings: he he he, healthy communication!! wahoo!! shower (act surprised), a lil jealousy from koo, mentions of past escapades with jimin, jk with a point to prove!!, jk is a very bad housemate in this one (but he's sexy so tis okay), scene of the crime: jimin's room, spanking, fingering, dominant koo, GASP! a bird!!! in the middle of business!!!!, hehehhe, confessions, a very lovely shag <3

wc: 14K

bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)

AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI

Every job you've ever applied for, and every resume you've ever sent, tells the same little white lie: great at working under pressure.

While it could be argued that you are perfectly capable of functioning through high-pressure situations, it's more so that you've just mastered the art of masking how stressed you truly are.

It starts in your head. The constant reminder of how much work you have to do, how much time menial tasks will take, and how it will impact the time spent on worthwhile jobs. Then, you deliberate over that: What is worthwhile? Who decides? You?

These insidious thoughts coat your brain like gasoline and drip down your spinal column. Make themselves known in your chest. Flood your heart, until it feels like it's gonna burst.

Your lungs are robust, though. They function normally. Filter out the smoke that inevitably fills them once you spark and find yourself ablaze with the catastrophic consequences of overworking yourself.

Still, you work, work, work until you're burnt from the inside out.

Leaning your head against the cold metal of Jeongguk's apartment complex elevator, the change in temperature is welcome. Respite. Comes with the territory of being close to him, you think, regardless of the steel doors. You hear a ding. Step back. Watch as they open, and consider letting them close again. Going back down. Away from him, and the inevitable conversation that is about to happen.

His voicemail had been ominous. You're not sure if it was intentional, but you do know he'll have just gotten home from therapy. You tell yourself that's it; he just wants to share how it went.

But you're not stupid. You know his voice well enough now to know his tells. He's annoyed, and it would seem that you're the person he's taken issue with. Nobody's perfect, and that extends to the both of you. It's not always gonna be plain sailing. You'd get bored if it was.

Taehyung's words have been ringing in your ears ever since he first spoke them aloud, echoing a statement you'd considered yourself: remember who you're doing this for.

Secrets have been kept for Jeongguk's benefit, but the closer and closer you get to his door, the more stupid it all seems. Perhaps that's why you'd been so insistent on keeping it hush-hush, though. You knew he'd have a problem with it. Likes to fight his own battles. Doesn't enjoy leaning on others for support.

That's the thing, though. He's trying to learn how to, now—trying to understand himself a little bit. Regulate his emotions.

With this, naturally, comes the establishment of firmer boundaries; the acknowledgement that his feelings are valued and justified, and deserve to be known just as much as anyone else's. No more burying his upsets just to keep peace.

Or at least, his therapist said something of a pretty similar sentiment during their session. If he's shelling out the amount of money he is on therapy in an overly beige, awfully pleasant office, then he may as well learn the lessons he's being taught.

He's always been a kinesthetic learner. Has to put theory into practice.

And if you've ever taught him anything, it's that his emotions are safe with you. Never belittled or ridiculed.

Which is probably why he opens the door with a smile. Forgets his upset, for he's blinded by stars.

You're a little less glittered up than usual, but there are sparkles on your skin regardless. There always is.

Easy, it is, for Jeongguk to be distracted by you. His thoughts drift to and fro, like tiny speckles of glitter in water. Ebbing and flowing from thought to thought, his brain is constantly in pursuit of you. No guided meditation video on YouTube or breathing exercise could ever calm him like you do.

Which is why your urgency (and hard-to-hide frown) confuses him as you ask, "Is Jimin in?"

His brows pinch together in an almost comedic fashion. Why would you want to see Jimin?

"No?" He questions back, a little childishly. It'd make you laugh if you weren't so nervous.

"Okay," you breathe out a sigh of relief, thankful for privacy as you step beyond the entrance to his apartment without waiting to be invited in. The door just shuts behind you, and Jeongguk remains in place, entertained by the thorny attitude you seem to have. Shoes off, coat up on a peg, you're at one with the furniture. Are exactly where you're supposed to be. Jeongguk loves having you here. Loves it so much. "Good."

As he turns to face you, a look of bemusement rests upon his pretty features. It's been a couple of days since you were last within touching distance.

He's forgotten all about his earlier irritation. Thinks the perplexion on your face is from—well, he doesn't really know. He just doesn't realise he's to blame.

"Hi," he smiles, all dreamy and entranced by the mere sight of you, and it makes you want to cry.

So pretty, is Jeon Jeongguk in all of his dishevelled glory, his busy day weakening his product's hold on his hair, dressed down in sweats 'cause he figured he wouldn't see you this evening.

Hair dark and lightly waved, it frames his features perfectly. A little grown out, the cut has lost its initial shape, which means he has to style it if he wants to look half decent, but you always secretly prefer him like this. As he bites down on his bottom lip, there's that fabled glisten; his lip ring doing the thing that always makes your stomach flip.

But your stomach is in bits, and he seems to wise up to this as his brows crease together.

"What's up?" he asks, strolling to close the gap between you both. Reaches out to place a palm on either one of your shoulders. Tilts his head like a sweet puppy as he asks, "Hey?"

And now you're confused, because he's the one who left you with a voicemail explicitly stating that you need to talk.

"You're annoyed with me," is all you say, because it's all you know.

The thing is, he doesn't seem annoyed. In fact, he appears perfectly lovely.

"But also," you add. "How was therapy?"

"Who said that?" He protests your first point. "And was fine—will tell you later. Tell me what you're on about first."

"Sure?" You check because you genuinely want to know how it went. "And you did!"

"Sure," he nods, but then lets his features snap back into a state of confusion. "But when did I ever say that?!"

"The voicemail?"

"The—Oh, no," he laughs. Like, really laughs. Heartily. Heavenly . Celestially . Lets a small space form between you both so that he can use his hands to express himself a little. "B, no."

In all honestly, he was annoyed.

Fresh off the bat from his very first therapy session, which he still wasn't convinced was the right thing for him, he'd been greeted home with a flyer to Taehyung's next show.

It wasn't anything bad, but it also wasn't anything you had clued Jeongguk in on. There were mentions of his friends and their respective businesses under the heading: Skills Auction.

Secrets had been kept, and from the looks of it, everyone was in on it.

He took it personally.

Didn't understand why you wouldn't tell him whatever it is that's going on. Considered the possibility that the reason went beyond inconsideration. That it was deliberate .

Once he noticed what the auction was for —to 'help with a local start-up'— he knew he needed to speak to you.

He chalked up two possibilities.

One: you really just didn't care to tell him, and the auction was to raise money for something totally irrelevant to him, or two: you deliberately didn't tell him, 'cause his restaurant is the start-up.

He's not sure which idea bothers him more; you forgetting him, or you keeping things from him.

That's a lie. Truth be told, it's the idea of you forgetting him that really shatters his soul.

You hadn't heard the voicemail until a little while later, so Jeongguk had the chance to simmer and dwell upon it all. Has found his annoyance wilting over the course of the afternoon, and now adoration blooms in its place with just a single look at you.

"But you said we need to talk," you say with a slight pout that you're really trying not to let show.

You hate feeling this feeble, but when the words 'we need to talk' echoed into your ear, you'd almost cried on the spot. Called a cab immediately. Have Jeongguk on your family location app (at his request during a night when he was behind the bar in Dionysus and wanted to make sure you got home safe), so knew he was home. Welled up a couple times in the taxi, too.

Your new fear of losing him is well and truly established, now.

"Because we do ," he says with a soft smile, as if he didn't use potentially the most alarming phrase he could have done. "But not like that ."

"Then why would you say it like that?!"

"Because I didn't think you'd take it like that!"

He's laughing, but he's also trying to soothe you. It's not that he's laughing at you, or at least, not in a mean-spirited way. He thinks it's all rather cute.

"Christ alive, B," he shakes his head, his smile not once ever faltering. "You think I'd have gone to all that trouble trying to get you, only to go and break up with you a week or so later?!"

The way you gasp is comical. Deserving of an Oscar, he thinks. There's a glisten back in your eyes, evidence that you're a little calmer than you had been, as you begin to playfully bend his words.

"Oh, so first you wanna break up with me, and now even dating me was trouble," you joke, knowing that he didn't mean it like that in the slightest. Given the fact you've already had one overreaction, a second one is amusing to you both. Far less serious, this time around.

"Fuck off," he laughs, pleased that your humour is back to biting point. He could have phrased his need to speak to you a little better, but honestly? To see you this worried? To know how much you care? Oh, it's nice. Such a simple declaration of how you feel for him, without uttering a single word. He thinks he should return the favour. "No. Don't twist my words, Byeol. You know you're my favourite thing ever—"

Or at least, he tries to. You're just in too much of a teasing mood now that your woes have been remedied to let him.

"So now I'm a thing , too?!"

It's been said before that the good is never easy, and the easy never good—and in his eyes, the way you get a little difficult at times like this just makes you so much better. You scratch that teeny tiny part of his brain that sits between his unbridled loyalty and complete adoration. A spot reserved just for you.

"Mhmm," he nods, closing the gap between you. Doesn't stop until he can smell your perfume. Cups your jaw, and presses an incredibly sincere kiss to your lips. Soft and hard all within the same second, Jeongguk is a man of complexities. Perfectly imperfect. Just right. "The prettiest thing. Mine, all mine."

The way he nudges his nose against yours feels like he's welcoming you home. Says a silent 'hello ,' or 'I've missed you so much.' Both would be applicable.

"So you don't wanna break up?" You ask, pedantic just for the sake of being so. You know the answer. God, you've never felt so sure of someone in your entire life.

"How are you both the smartest girl I know and also the dumbest?" he grins, before kissing you gently to make up for the fact he called you dumb (and also the fact he's about to call you stupid). "So stupid—" he laughs, tucking hair behind your ear. "—but so goddamn pretty, B. God, my gorgeous girl. Have you spent all afternoon thinking—"

"No," you pout, cutting him off because it's so embarrassing that you actually let your mind fret like that.

"You could have just called."

"Was scared."

"You know how crazy I am about you?" He insists, pulling you in for an all-encompassing hug. Squeezes. Might crush you. Good . You'd welcome it. "You literally never have to worry about that."

Arms strong, he keeps you enclosed as he waltzes you both to his room. Giggles along with you as the awkward footing makes it so much more clumsy than it really needs to be. Refuses to let go of you until you reach the foot of his bed. Gets you right where he wants you: on top of his sheets, trapped beneath his body, even if you are both fully clothed.

"So what did you want to talk about?" You ask, knowing that it's best to get it over and done with now. You aren't stupid—even if he did lovingly say you were earlier—and it doesn't take a genius to figure it out. There's only one thing you've done recently that you haven't discussed with him, which you really should have done.

"Take a wild guess," he says with a slight smirk.

It's almost as if he knows you'll still think he's the sexiest man alive regardless of the fact you're about to be reprimanded.

In fact, the telling-off might make him even hotter. The way you bite down on your lip is accidental, but the thoughts of being bent over his knee are a little too tempting.

Jeongguk's usually good at reading your tells but thinks you're just cutely holding back the truth, so he doesn't think much of it, as if he isn't highly aware of how naturally your legs wrap around his body and how perfectly his chain dangles just shy of your chin. He's too hot. Too goddamn hot for you to think straight most of the time.

He's also been in this position too many times before, and knows exactly what it leads to, for him to not get a little excited . You both ignore it, for now.

Instead, you pout. Close your eyes. Whine a little, but are interrupted when Jeongguk starts kissing you again. Couldn't help himself. You look too cute. He really likes how you've done your hair today. Your outfit, too. The way he can't figure out what colour your glitter is, 'cause it shines differently depending on the light. The fact you're wearing his favourite of all your perfumes. And you. Just in general.

God, he just likes you so much. Forgets everything whenever you're near. All he wants is to indulge in the way it feels to be with you. Never let it go.

Lips pressing into yours, the rest of his body kind of follows suit. While one of his arms supports him by the side of your head, the other hand roams. Feels. Squeezes and strokes wherever it can; the base of your throat, the curve of your waist, the fullness of your chest. It's not without reciprocation, though.

Your hands are just as familiar as his - one in his hair, the other squeezing at his ass. A rhythm is set. Hips languid. Effort minimal. The way you rut against one another is lazy, neither of you really aiming for sex—but also neither of you would be mad if it was the inevitable outcome, either way.

Eventually, though, he pulls back. Is a little out of breath. Lets his nose nudge against yours as he shakes his head.

"No," he smiles. "Can't distract me."

"You started it."

"True," he admits, stealing a single kiss and then rolling off you to stare at the ceiling. There's just a single bird above you, now.

It's taunting Jeongguk. He knows exactly what it says. Has only lasted so long because it was strung up after that first Busan trip. Has a little more longevity than the others did.

He reaches over to grab your hand. Ignores the fact his sweats are making his desire for you abundantly obvious. Instead, he links his fingers with yours and holds them on his stomach. Says, "Jimin left the flyer for Tae's next show on the counter."

"Shit."

Jeongguk laughs. It's quiet, but you can feel his chest thud a little from the contractions of his lungs.

He isn't really sure what reaction he was expecting, but is pleased that you aren't trying to deny anything. While you both may bullshit a little from time to time, you'll always admit to it if you're called out on it. You're only human. Not saints, but not sinners, either.

"Yeah, B," he says with a small laugh. " Shit ."

There's gasoline in your heart again, but then Jeongguk squeezes your fingers, and it seems to pump the fluid out. Clears your system. Assures you that everything is okay.

" Skills Auction ," Jeongguk quotes the flyer.

"Mhmm."

"To help support a local start-up, huh?"

You glance across to him, brows a little furrowed, penance prevailing. You really do feel shitty for not including him in on the plans, even if your intentions were good.

"Mhmm."

He twists his head now to meet your gaze. Tries to read your expression. Doesn't try too hard, cause he'll get distracted again, no doubt.

"So why are all the boys listed? Or their workplaces, at least?" Jeongguk asks, and you know exactly what he's talking about.

Advertising space in the local paper, thanks to Namjoon. Custom furniture, courtesy of Min's Studio. A year's free consultation with Jimin's interior design firm. If one of your friends has a sought-after skillset (of which they all do) then they've been roped in. Even Taehyung; a chance to win an original work of his.

Perhaps 'win' is the wrong term.

It's an auction, after all. Bids will be made. But you hope they'll be made competitively. Drive the prices up. Force people to spend pretty pennies—which is exactly why people from Shilla Finances had been added to the guestlist.

They're assholes with money to burn, and they all like to win. You reckon if you have them competing against each other, you'll rake money in.

Before you get a chance to start explaining, he adds, "And where do I fit into all of this?"

"Good question," you say quietly. There's no point in denying it, now. You're not stupid but nor is he. "Look, before you say anything— I was gonna tell you."

"But you haven't ," he reminds you of your wrongdoing. Just like that time he lied about texting a girl to hang out all those months ago, and you refused to go easy on him, he's gonna make sure you learn your lesson. "The show is next week."

With a nod, you know you need to be straightforward with him about your plans. "But I haven't, you're right."

It's not without reason.

Jeongguk is stubborn at best; proud at his worst. Hates accepting help. Even Yoongi had to convince Jeongguk to let him in on the business proposal to take to the bank—and Jeongguk feels ever so embarrassed that Yoongi saw him put in so much hard work only to achieve absolutely nothing. Makes him feel inadequate.

But the restaurant is Jeongguk's dream .

And if you can help him achieve his dream, of course you're gonna try.

Ever since he got the call from the bank, there's been a quiet disappointment in his eyes whenever moments of contemplation have washed over him. Sloped shoulders, firm pouts. It's been hard to watch.

Jeongguk doesn't have the capital to purchase the retail unit outright now that it's for sale, and the bank wouldn't wanna take a chance on an inexperienced businessman like him. Fresh out of university, he doesn't have the credentials built up, yet.

But what Jeongguk does have—and what you'd argue is his absolute strength when it comes to his business plans—is people who love him and want him to succeed. People who will do all they can to help him out in times of need, just like he would for them.

And so when the idea to do a skills sale came into your head, you just sort of ran with it.

The concept is simple: get punters to bid on prizes. Highest bidder wins. The competition aspect will surely propel prices, and the prizes are things that money can't buy, or at least not easily.

The funds raised, once small fees are settled?

Jeongguks, to help with the restaurant start-up. A gift from you all, really. Not just you, even if you are the mastermind.

You didn't even realise how much momentum the entire thing had gained until you were putting together the finishing touches with Taehyung earlier that day.

The collection he's showing is small. Postcard-sized, intricately detailed moments of time spent with his friends, captured in an abstract medium. They're reasonably priced—a little lower than his going rate, to ensure sales—and after the costs of his materials is deducted, the proceeds will go towards the 'start-up'.

The start-up or Jeongguk's dream. Whatever you wanna call it.

The rest of his friends have all donated their time and efforts free of charge. You've even managed to rope in a few companies to partner with the auction. Bartered with Taehyung, and asked if the commission he once promised you as a thank you for helping with the show could be redeemed in the auction—and he agreed.

It's the hot ticket item, you think, although you are severely underestimating how much companies will pay for front-page advertisements in the city paper. They're often booked out well in advance, so for Namjoon to swoop in and reserve it off thanks to an unpaid invoice leaving a slot free next month? Oh, it's like Christmas come early.

And so you tell Jeongguk everything; how the ball started rolling, and how you've been unable to stop it. He listens, and doesn't say a word. Is conflicted.

"I know I should have told you what I was doing," you stress, eyes on the ceiling, just like his. "I just thought you'd tell me no—"

"I would have done."

" Exactly ," you say. "Like I wasn't trying to meddle, I just want you to have options, yanno? Money is the only obstacle. And I just—you've done so much for me. I wanted to return the favour."

"B, there's a favour, and then there's this ," he gently says. He's still holding your hand, so at least he's not mad. That's something.

"I know." Truthfully, you do. It's why you've been so torn up. You knew you should have told him earlier, but also knew he'd probably feel guilty accepting help like this. "I just saw how disappointed you were after the bank called, and like, the only thing standing between you and getting that restaurant going is money and—"

"But it was my call to make, B," he interrupts softly. "What happened with the bank was shitty, and yeah it really sucked for a while, but I would have figured it out. Like, what if I didn't even want to run a restaurant anymore?" You know he does. "What would I do with the money then? They'd start calling me a fraud, or some shit like that. Sue me, probably, for false advertisement. Run me into the ground before I even have a chance to get something going."

With a nod, you don't try and defend yourself. You know he's right—but you also know Jeongguk's achieving his dream regardless of his current difficulties. He's too determined not to achieve his goals.

Instead of trying to reason any of this, you offer an apology.

"I'm sorry," you promise. "Tae said something earlier that kinda made me realise I'd had tunnel vision with it all. I know it'll sound like bullshit, but I really was going to tell—"

"I hate that I didn't know," Jeongguk cuts you off. His interruption is stark. Leaves a cold tail of wind as it escapes his mouth. "I mean, I'm the only one, right?" He frowns, now. "Everyone else knew. They had to, if they're on the flyer. And I just wasn't told. By anyone."

"It's my fault," you say, quickly coming to the defence of his friends. You masterminded it, after all. "Gguk, I literally begged them to keep it quiet until I figured out how to tell you. It's on me. Yoongi said I should tell you. Jimin straight-up told me I was being dumb. The only reason they didn't tell you is 'cause of me. It was a bad judgment call on my part. I'm sorry."

Jeongguk could pretend like he cares about the secrecy.

He doesn't.

He understands why the secret was kept, and why it began. He doesn't see it, really, as deception or as a lie. Is familiar with the concept of surprises, and how they work. Trusts you not to ever lie about personal matters, but does find it a bit baffling nonetheless.

The thing that does upset him, though?

Being left out.

"Just feel stupid," he mumbles. Rubs his thumb against yours. Finds respite in it. "Everyone knew except for me. Feel like a charity case."

"I didn't even think of it like that," you quietly admit, turning to face him again—but he's avoiding your gaze. "Just wanted to fix things for you. Take the pressure off. I should have told you. I really am sorry I didn't."

Jeongguk purses his lips, and his lip ring flips ever so sweetly in the corner of his mouth. He's so handsome, even when he's pouty.

You both show affection and care through acts of service. It's nothing new. He understands the thought process and the good intentions that come with it.

With a sigh, he leverages the grip he has on your hand and pulls you a little. Encourages you onto his lap. It's a position you ease into without difficulty, knees either side of his waist, ankles by his hips as you straddle his body.

Jeongguk holds onto your thighs while your hands ball at the material of his shirt. Eye contact is shamefully avoided, until he sighs once more. "Look, I see what you're trying to do, B. And it's sweet, and I appreciate it. I really do. You just can't keep shit like this from me, okay? Not if it directly concerns me."

You nod, watching your own hands as he clasps them in his own.

"We're a team, right?" He gently says as he encourages your body to lay on top of his. Wraps his arms around you. Holds you close as you nod again into the crook of his neck. "You can be team captain all you like, baby—just don't keep me on the reserves bench. If there's a homerun to be had, I wanna be the one hitting it. Okay?"

"I really am sorry," you say again, 'cause you kind of feel like he's the one trying to make you feel better, which isn't the point of an apology at all.

Thing is, Jeongguk isn't annoyed. Really.

He's a little annoyed at himself for not thinking of the idea first, and a little sad he didn't get the chance to work on it with you—but he's honestly been feeling so stuck about the restaurant for weeks. Spent most of his first therapy session talking about how gutted he was over it all.

And so even though yes, you should have roped him in—or hell, even asked his permission—it kind of feels like you've thrown him a lifeline.

"I still wanna speak it over with Yoongi," Jeongguk tells you as he rubs his hands up and down your back. "Just get his opinion on things—and hey, there's no guarantee we'd actually make any money, right? From the auction?"

It feels different, now, thinking about the restaurant as if it's something that could come to fruition again. Raising the funds for a deposit on the building would alleviate one of the biggest financial burdens. Sure, there's no certainty he'd get approved for a mortgage, or if the bank would even still consider a loan for the refurbs and start-up costs, but it's better than going in empty-handed.

"Totally," you nod, thinking that Yoongi is probably the best person to discuss this all with. "And, actually, that's something else I need to speak to you about."

"Go on," Jeongguk purrs.

"Well, the goal is to raise capital without the need for investors," you say of your thought process behind the auction. "Get their money in exchange for goods or services—not for a stake in your business. Thing is—"

"All the rich twats we know are from Shilla Finances?" Jeongguk grimaces as he references Seokjin's workplace. Can always tell whenever one of those wankers is at Taehyung's show. They all wear Invictus, or 1 Million, as if Paco Rabanne is the scent master of class and wealth, and not just responsible for the cloud of air that hangs in a high school boys' locker room after gym lessons.

"Yeah," you grimace right back. "Chances are, they already know about the show—we always have a few in attendance. Tae's pretty popular with them. I'm pretty sure one of them mentioned some of his work being in one of their meeting rooms at the last show."

You say chances are, because you haven't sent out personal invites yet. That was one of today's tasks, but after speaking with Taehyung, you chose against it. Knew that he was right. That you did have to speak to Jeongguk before going through with it.

"They've got money," he assesses. More than him, by a long shot. Pool their resources, and fuck it—he really might be able to make enough for a deposit on the unit.

"They do," you nod, then begin to explain your theory.

It's not foolproof and there's no guarantee any of them would care particularly for the things on offer, but Taehyung's kind of dominating the local art circuit at the moment. There's a buzz around him that everyone wants to get in on. For flashy, wealth-obsessed wankers who love to keep up with the latest trends, an original commissioned piece from Taehyung would make them the talk of the office for at least a day or two.

"Get investors without getting investors," Jeongguk muses. The idea of being tied to your ex in even the smallest of ways makes him feel physically sick, but this a loophole he could grow to like. "Fuck it. Do it. Invite them. What have we got to lose?"

There's something intrinsic about the way Jeongguk groups you in together with him like this. Your burdens are his burdens; his battles, your battles. He really does view you as a team and intends to keep it that way.

"You sure?" You question, just to confirm it's what he actually wants.

He nods. Adjusts you slightly so that he can look into your eyes as he says, "I'm sure, babe—but if your ex is there, I'm taking you straight to that janitor's closet again."

The boyish charm to his smile makes your eyes roll, but his sentiments do get you a little flustered nonetheless.

"For a chat?" You tease, knowing perfectly well what he means.

Jeongguk just smiles. Plainly states, "No. For a fuck."

"You're so romantic."

"I am," he agrees, ignoring your sarcasm. Smirks as your hair pools around his face, nose nudging up against his. "Gonna fuck you so hard you can't walk straight, and then I'm gonna hold your hand all night to make up for it."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," he purrs, pressing a fleeting kiss up to your lips. "Gonna introduce myself to everyone as your boyfriend. Oh, you know the curator? Yeah, she's my girlfriend. I'm her boyfriend. Gonna make sure everyone knows, B. I'll bet you that all those finance bros fancied the shit out of you when you were with your ex. Bet you they're hoping they can make a move on you now. Fat fuckin' chance. Over my dead body."

His tendency to get a little jealous has never been a secret, but you must admit you enjoy seeing it boil to the surface every now and again.

"You're so dumb," you giggle as he begins to press kisses down your throat.

Oh, the jealousy is potent . Has his tongue flicking against you; teeth nipping at your skin.

"Nah, you're just right," Jeongguk husks against your neck. "I am proud. My pride does get in the way. But when my girlfriend looks like you? Fucking hell, when my girlfriend is you? Jesus, B. Hard not to be proud."

"Stop," you smile, pulling back, knowing that you're both gonna take it too far. "You'll give me a big head."

"Then you really will look like a disco ball," he tells you with a straight face, but just can't help himself from letting a grin escape.

"Fuck off," you laugh, but he simply doesn't let you. Pulls you in for half a dozen teeny-tiny kisses, then decides they're not enough, and gives you half a dozen more. They're fleeting and they're fast, but they're all for you. You know it's only a matter of time until you'll be under his sheets instead of on top of them. "Wait, wait, wait—are we good?"

"Course we are," he says as you sit back up on his lap, and your assumptions about his state of desire are proven correct. "Just don't keep shit from me, okay?"

You nod. Know that the way you felt earlier when you listened to his voicemail was enough to scare you into never doing it again. "Promise."

"Then, yeah," he assures you, stroking your thighs, and looking at you with the softest eyes known to man. "We're good, B."

Amazing, what a little bit of open communication between you both can do.

Has you thinking maybe you should admit how terrified you were on the cab ride over—but then he's pulling you up with him, grabbing the pair of towels he keeps neatly folded on a shelf, dragging you to the bathroom.

He's already had one today, and so have you, but he doesn't care. Wants you naked. Wants to prove how 'good' you really are together. Wants to give you reasons to never keep shit from him again. Reward you for your honesty, as if you're a puppy in need of training—which is funny, 'cause when his hair gets all wet beneath the shower and his eyes are so delightfully wide, he's the one who looks like a puppy dog.

The way he leans into your touch as you shampoo his hair? Gets a little whiney when you scratch at his scalp? Oh, he's such a puppy dog. So cute, and cuddly, and—

"Oh, fucking hell," Jeongguk cuts off your train of thought when he turns to face you. Body covered in soapy bubbles that drip down your skin like honey, he's somehow surprised by how badly he wants you. As if he doesn't always want you.

He's never wanted to be shampoo before, but— fuck —he wants to be on you like that. Doesn't care to think about the physical logistics of it all. Just gets your back pressed to the wall, a hand on your waist while the other holds your throat. Forgets the pretty kisses he usually greets you with. Gets his tongue in your mouth, and your whines in his throat. It's messy, and it's feral, but fuck if it isn't just so indicative of how much you crave each other.

It goes beyond that, Jeongguk thinks. Not a want, but a need.

Even though you'd been playing it off like a joke earlier, he's highly aware of the fact you thought he might end things earlier. He never wants to give you that kind of complex. Wants you to know that a few words would never be enough to break what you have together.

So even though Jeongguk is like a puppy dog in how sweetly he adores you, he's also fierce in how defiantly he wants you.

Hair up and out of the stream of his shower, you didn't want to wash it twice in one day, which actually makes things a little easier for him. Means he won't have to wait out your conditioning time. Instead, he reaches across, and shuts off the shower.

Nudging his nose up against yours, he mumbles, "We don't have to, but I totally wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to fuck right now."

"Huh," you hum, letting one of your hands drop from his waist, to delicately trail around the base of his incredibly hard cock. "You wanna fuck? Hadn't noticed."

When he laughs, you feel the air escape his lungs and settle on your skin. It's something so innately human that reminds you Jeongguk is real; that he's yours, and that you'd be a fool to waste such opportunities.

"Said I'm not opposed," he corrects you. "Up to you. I can make you feel good, B, or we can get dressed and do crosswords like an old married couple."

"You've never done a crossword in your life," you guess, narrowing your eyes.

"And I don't really intend on starting now," he smirks.

"Well then you're in luck," you concede.

"You wanna fuck?"

"That rhymed," you say as he pulls back to grab the towels. He gives you yours first, wrapping you up before he reaches for his own. "Maybe you are good with words. Maybe you should do the crosswords, instead." He raises a brow as he shakes his towel through his hair, not caring for the fact he's stark bollock naked. "Jimin's still out, right?"

"Company dinner," Jeongguk says, as he finally begins to wrap his towel around his waist. "Probably won't get home till the early hours."

You nod. Accept this reality. Say, "Good."

And then Jeongguk is left to watch on in a state of disbelief as you rid yourself of his fluffy white towel and toss it his way before walking to the door. Turning to glance over at him as you push down the handle, you're amused by how endearing his surprise is.

"Well, are you coming, or what?" You tease.

Barely a foot out the door, and Jeongguk's wrapping his arms around you. Covering your modesty, while also letting his towel fall to the floor. You're giggling as his lips press wet kisses against your throat, the pair of you so adorable it would make anyone else sick.

"What if he snuck home, huh?" Jeongguk playfully husks against your skin. "Then what?"

"Then it would have been a nice surprise for him," you tease right back. "Give him something to think about when he—"

"Don't," Jeongguk almost fucking growls .

While this might have been true a year ago, Jimin would most likely feel incredibly awful seeing you in such a state of undress, now. Doesn't associate who you are now with the girl they all met at Dionysus way back when. His encounters with you weren't particularly unique, nor meaningful. He doesn't think of them.

Thinks of you now like an add-on of Jeongguk. Both annoying. Both people he's entirely comfortable around. Both improve his mood during bad hangovers. Both are responsible for many of those hangovers. You're a package deal, and he'll forever be grateful for Jeongguk not being weird about things, like he knows many people would have been.

In a similar fashion, Jeongguk doesn't think about it—except for rare occasions, for no better reason than to let himself lean into a little bit of toxicity.

"Don't what?" You feign innocence, but you recognise the look in his eye; a little wild and ever so dark, even if there are still stars in them. "It's not like he's never—"

"I don't care what he has done," Jeongguk cuts you off, and hooks his arm around your waist. Doesn't give a shit. Picks you up, and gets you over his shoulder. You yelp, as if it's not exactly what you were anticipating—but what does surprise you?

The direction he takes you in.

"Gguk—" You laugh, but he's having none of it. Those earlier thoughts of being bent over his knee are remedied as he spanks your ass to assert a little dominance.

"Don't give a fuck what he has done," Jeongguk repeats as he kicks open the door to a bedroom that doesn't belong to him. "'Cause we both know you never fuckin' came in here, did you? Huh? You ever orgasm in here?"

Part of you is in a state of shock. He cannot seriously be thinking about having his way with you in his housemate's room. Anywhere else? Fine. Sure. Have already been there, done that, got the t-shirt. But Jimin's room?!

That part of you is silenced by the keenness that comes with such a sordid act. Of all the times you've ever told yourself fucking Jeongguk is wrong, you know that this time, it really is.

It's a confusing paradox; he's your boyfriend. Fucking him is a-okay. But fucking him here ?! Oh, God, you're going to hell.

"Where's that smart mouth of yours gone, huh?" He smirks as he uses his spare hand to pull out Jimin's desk chair. You're lowered down from Jeongguk's shoulder, and he's pleased to see how wide your eyes are. Likes how needy you look. Steals a kiss. Husks, "Not so loud now, are you, baby?"

How you're even supposed to articulate a response to that when your heart is in your throat, you'll never know.

Jeongguk presses his tongue to the back of his front teeth. Breathes out a stifled laugh as he smirks. Shakes his head. Says, "Knees."

And— fuck —you don't know when you became this pathetic and feeble, but his display of dominance has really done something to you. There's no pushback. No defiance. Just compliance as you do as he says and get to your knees. Eyes on his, always.

"Wait here for me, baby," he says softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. Is tender in how he's touching you, but the obscured light filtering in through Jimin's blinds makes him look so much more sinister than usual. You're surprised by how much you like it. "Don't move. Okay?"

You nod, Jeongguk's hand still gently cupping your cheek as his thumb traces your lip, then pushes into your mouth. The wet warmth of your tongue makes him fuckin' twitch. He wants you so fucking badly. Doesn't know why he's torturing himself.

When he leaves, you don't move a muscle. Just listen intently to try and work out what he's doing. You hear the manual lock of the front door go first, so even if Jimin does get home early, there's no way he's getting in. Part of you knows Jeongguk likes the risk factor of shit like this, so it's nice to know where his boundary lies. The pad of his footsteps grows quieter, so you can only assume he's in his room.

You sit on your knees, palms on your thighs. Your poise is well-maintained; a little feline in how you hold yourself. The one thing you do change is your hair. Fix it into a ponytail, instead. You know he likes having something to hold onto, and all you want is to give him the things he enjoys in life.

There's a coolness to the air in Jimin's room. Your nipples are hard, and you know there's a mess between your legs already—which only doubles with anticipation as you hear Jeongguk heading back in the direction of Jimin's room.

Unbeknownst to you both, the closing of Jeongguk's bedroom door creates a stir in the air. Wraps around the only bird left hanging—and then all very suddenly, Jeongguk's ceiling is empty, the final fear nestled in his sheets.

When he enters, unaware of what's just happened, he's so pleased to see you did as you were told… almost .

"It's different," he says of your hair, lifting the ponytail to run his palm down it. You're a little bit disappointed when he doesn't yank it, and kind of question your sanity when you realise what you wanted him to do. "Pretty."

He's pleased to see your cheeks apple as he compliments you, your smile a little shy. As he stands in front of you once more, you notice what he's carrying: the tie of his you're far too well acquainted with.

"Lift your hair up for me, baby," he says, and has to admit, the way you just comply to his every whim makes him so fucking twitchy. Wrapping the tie beneath your ponytail, he brings the ends to the top and ties a pretty (even if a little messy) bow. "Keep that safe for me, yeah? Gonna use it later."

You nod, 'cause what else are you gonna fuckin' do? Say no? Fuck that. You can't remember the last time Jeongguk made you feel this submissive. As much as you like switching up the roles, there's something about relinquishing power to him that really shatters your hard exterior. You wanna be vulnerable for him.

Sinking into the desk chair, you half think Jeongguk is vying for a blowjob—of which you desperately want to give. He notices your eyes, and the way your lips hungrily fold in on themselves as you look towards his cock. Smirks in satisfaction.

"Not yet, baby," he tells you. Holds out his hand to help you up, and uses the other to pull at the lever on the bottom of the chair, lowering it as much as he can. There are no armrests to the chair, making it perfect for what Jeongguk wants—and what he wants isn't so dissimilar from your earlier desires. "Told you not to move, didn't I?"

You stand in front of him, looking down at him in a somewhat odd shift to the dynamic—yet he's still entirely in control as his hands stroke up your figure. Warm and wide, you love his hands. Always have done. Always will.

Nodding, you give no verbal response. Don't feel like it's needed.

"But your hair changed, didn't it?"

There's a softness to his voice that makes everything about this so much more intense than an overtly masculine display of dominance would give. It's the way he holds power, in abundance, without raising his voice or scaring you, that makes your heart feel like it will beat out of your chest.

Again, you nod.

"Not very good at following orders, are you?"

This time, you shake your head.

Feels like there's not a single thought up in your brain right now. Everything has been pushed to the side to make way for the anticipation of what's to come.

Jeongguk's tattooed hand trails down you arm, then wraps around your wrist. Pulls you closer. Turns you slightly, until you're standing next to him, staring yourself out in the mirror. He glances across to it, meets your gaze, and says, "See. Told you so. Pretty."

You hide your smile well, you think. Watch your face in the mirror, and realise that it's impossible to hide how Jeongguk makes you feel, for it blooms over your entire being.

"Just 'cause you're pretty doesn't mean you can break the rules, though, B," he reprimands you, and encourages you to lean over his knees.

The chair's height isn't ideal, and you thank your lucky stars Danbi forces you to pole every other week so you at least have a little power in your legs to keep yourself supported.

Jeongguk wises up to the height issue pretty quickly—but he wants you looking in the mirror, so knows a little compromise has to be made. He supports your body with his forearm, holding you up across the front of your shoulders, his hand curling around your arm to keep you steady.

The sight in the mirror is sin; how Jeongguk is surveying your body, eyes trailing down the dip of your spine to the pert rounding of your ass. The strain on your legs means your brows are already a little furrowed, one of your hands resting on the edge of the seat for extra support, while the other grips onto the arm of his that's keeping you steady.

As his eyes rake down your body, his hands stroke. Grapple. Soothe. Get reacquainted with that ass of yours that he loves so much.

"What's the word?" He asks.

It's a simple phrase only ever uttered in moments of impiety. Lets you know whatever he's about to do goes beyond the realm of your usual encounters and it only serves to get your heart racing even faster.

The whiplash of your earlier upset, and current desperation just makes you so much more pliable for him. So agreeable. You'll do whatever he wants. Are his to use as he pleases—which is funny, because all he wants is to please you .

"Chess," you say, breath so shallow it's almost a whisper.

"Good girl," he says just as softly. He's teasing, and he damn well knows it. Is gentle in how he speaks to you, 'cause he knows he's about to be anything but gentle. "See, you do know how to behave, don't you?"

You nod—then find yourself gasping as the hand that had been softly stroking your skin cracks against it. The force makes your body jerk, but he steadies you just as quickly as he spanks you.

"Words, baby. Tell me."

You try again. Give a pathetic 'yes' , only to be sent reeling once more.

He has the audacity to laugh, and it just makes you fucking drip . The glisten of your pussy leaking onto your inner thighs gets exposed with every spank, and Jeongguk just can't help himself. Lets his middle finger swipe between your soaked folds, before sinking it into your entrance with zero resistance.

The way you moan is like a fucking symphony, he thinks. Mozart would have a field day with the noises you make. Vivaldi would name a season after you. He wishes he had his phone on him. Wants to record your sounds; your bated breaths, your soaked cunt, your desperate gasps, moans, whines—all of it.

Long, slow strokes; his middle finger pumping into you elicits the most pathetic noises from you, eyes fastened shut from how euphoric it feels. It's too bad. He wants to see them. Wants the intimacy that comes with it.

"Eyes open," he tells you.

You try, but it's just too good. You can't help but let your eyes roll back into the pleasure, lids closing as you succumb to the way he feels inside you. You hear the softness of a small laugh, but the words that follow are stern.

"Open, or I'll stop."

"You're so fuckin' mean," you whine, forcing your eyes open—and it really is a struggle, especially when he begins to increase his pace.

His middle finger continues to fuck itself into you, his speed building, the noise of it all so fucking lewd. Shivers run through your body, thanks to the loss of autonomy you always seem to have whenever he's inside you.

"Watch your language, or I'll stop," he threatens, but glances over to the mirror to meet your eyes. You're so headstrong, so stubborn, and yet for him? Oh, you're pathetic . He loves it. "And I can be meaner, baby. Trust me."

"Gguk—"

He pulls out from you quickly, delivering a sharp spank to your ass. The crack echoes into the room, your body jolting, a pathetic whimper mewling from your lips as he steadies you.

As quickly as he withdrew from you, he sinks his finger back into you. Gives you no fuckin' respite. Keeps his momentum up.

"Don't call me that," he husks. If you were to have any cognitive thoughts in this moment, you'd be a little confused. It isn't a name that usually has too much of an effect on him. You just don't realise that that's the issue; he wants you to address him by names only you can say. "Who am I? To you, who am I?"

"My— oh, fuck —you're my boyfriend," You whimper. Admitting it like this gets you feeling all kinds of fucked up. "Shit. Gguk— fuck ."

"Yeah, I am," he grits, a little aggressive in the way he's fingering you, but in such a way that makes you feel like a fire has been sparked inside you. All pleasure, no pain—until he reprimands you for your foul language again.

He pulls out. Spanks you. One cheek, then the next. Is quick in his succession, giving you next to no time to register the sensation, and then is plugging you again with his fingers.

Is gritting his teeth as he growls, "And I'm making you feel good, yeah?"

Clutching his arm so tightly you're gonna leave nail marks, you nod. Gasp. "So good."

His cock is so hard; his tip hot as it throbs, resting up against his lower abdomen. Is trapped between his body and yours, and with every movement he dictates out of you, he's also getting a little friction. Is all desperate and needy, in the way it leaks a pretty bead of precum from the slit, smearing on his skin. Yours, too.

He ignores it as best he can. Is only thinking about you.

"That's right," he says a little breathlessly, a little surprised by just how much he feels like he's out of control, despite having complete authority over you. "So watch your language, and don't call me what everyone else calls me. You've got privileges, baby. Use them."

And then it clicks.

You've got privileges, baby.

It's different to the usual teasing. He doesn't want you to stroke his ego. He wants you to hold his heart.

"I'm sorry," you breathlessly plead for forgiveness, as if he actually gives a shit about your sailor's tongue, and isn't just looking for an excuse to spank you. A second finger of his pushes into you, desperate to elicit more delicate moans. This time, you do watch your language. Do exactly what he wants of you. "Oh, God—" you almost feel like you're gonna cry. "—That's it, babe. God, that's it ."

Babe .

He might actually fuckin' nut from just hearing you call him that.

If he were to really be in control, he'd tell you off for such blatant blasphemy, or some shit like that—but he doesn't care, and can't think straight enough to pretend he does.

"So fuckin' hot," he mumbles instead, as his fingers keep up the pace that's gotten you all shaky for him.

You're really not supporting yourself anymore. It's his hold on you that's keeping you locked in position. Every couple of strokes, your legs shake just a little bit more, and your whines are so breathless he knows you're nearly there.

"Tell me how I make you feel," he husks, voice soft. "Tell me how close you are."

"Close," you whimper, because it's all you can manage. "So close, babe."

"Gonna cum all over my fingers, aren't you?"

"Gguk—" you gasp, mind numb, body burning. He doesn't reprimand you, this time. Keeps his pace. You try and muster an apology for disobeying him, but find it impossible. "Oh, fuck —"

"It's okay," he grits through clenched teeth. You manage to open your eyes for a moment, and just a single glance at his face—his knotted eyebrows, tense jaw, parted lips, damp hair, undeniable beauty—seals the deal. The shaking of your legs gets harder to handle. Knees weak, you really do sound like you might fuckin' cry. "Be a good girl for me, yeah? Cum for me."

It's a request, not a demand, but the pace at which he's fucking you with his fingers makes it impossible to refuse.

The sensation of pleasure that waves over you travels from the tips of your toes to the top of your head, sparking as it reaches its climax. Body tense as your muscles struggle to deal with the lightning that's cracking through your veins, you shudder for him. Don't have to fake a single thing.

Jeongguk's no stranger to what it's like to have you like this, but each and every time it happens he's stunned. Can't form a single cognitive thought, let alone a sentence that makes any sense. Just curses.

"Fuck," he exhales, a fucking laugh stifling in his throat as your orgasm soaks him. You didn't squirt like you sometimes do, but it doesn't matter when he makes you as wet as he does. His fingers and palm were already coated, but you're all over his thigh now as well as your own. "God, this pussy, B," he praises. "So fuckin' perfect."

You give an exhausted giggle, the laughter making your pussy get even tighter around his fingers. Body well and truly spent, it's a miracle you haven't actually fallen to the floor—but his grip on you is so protective, he'd never let that happen.

What he does do, is slowly pull his fingers from you, and stroke at the peachy pink marks left by his palm. "You okay?"

Nodding, eyes closed, you're all pliable for him. Limp and lethargic. Need a moment to recover before you can return the favour. There's a serenity to you, he thinks, as he watches you in the mirror.

Though he doesn't wanna break the moment, he also wants you in his sheets. You look so sleepy, and honestly there's nothing he'd love more than a lazy little fuck with you right now; like a pretty bow tied on top of a present just for him.

Easing you up, Jeongguk makes sure to keep you supported, moving you into a straddle position over his lap. Your ass is closer to his knees than his cock, and it's deliberate, 'cause he doesn't trust himself. Arms draping over his shoulders as his hands grip your waist, you let your foreheads meet, noses not quite nudging.

"Hey," he greets you with a soft whisper. Fixes the issue of your noses not nudging. Cranes his neck a little to get his stroking up against yours—but then pulls a little higher, so he can press a pretty little kiss to the tip of your nose.

"Hi," you reply, dreamy and dulcet in how wrecked you sound.

Nose nestling back against his, you let his lips press down into yours. In search of refuge, they're so pouty that it takes next to no effort.

You grant him the shelter he's seeking; give him a home between your lips as if you don't know you're silently stealing his soul in the process.

Pulling back, even though he really doesn't want to, Jeongguk gets to his feet, wrapping your body around him as he does so. Your arms are secure over his shoulders, legs around his waist.

Head nestled into the crook of his neck, he's reminded of his tie as your hair presses against his jaw. Had intended on using it way before you came undone but kinda got carried away. It's no huge loss. Will just use it later, he's sure.

With a smile, his arm holds you securely in place as he tucks the desk chair back in place.

"We leaving?" you ask, as if you really care.

"Want you in my bed," he simply says, without clarifying. Could be for sex, could be to sleep. Again, you don't really care. Just wanna be stuck to him like glue.

His job in Jimin's room is done. Just wanted to settle that little part of his brain that would sometimes taunt him about your time spent in there. Wanted to rewrite your memories, and is pretty certain he achieved his goal.

Careful as he carries you through the apartment, he knows he's definitely gonna get some negative karma points for what he just did. If Jimin ever found out, he'd probably skin him alive. It's boyish, how Jeongguk smirks to himself, and tightens his grip around your body, thinking to himself that it was worth it.

Setting you down on his bed, he doesn't notice the slight sound of crumpling paper—but you feel it. Chirp a little confusion, which has Jeongguk asking, "Wassup?"

Adjusting slightly, you reach behind yourself.

Jeongguk looks up, just to check on the birds—and that's when he realises.

Bird in your hand, you look up towards him with a loss of autonomy. Forget you have ownership over the birds, too. Don't even think to open it, or at least not until Jeongguk panics and snatches it from you without saying a word.

"Woah, woah, woah," you laugh, your fucked-out soul finally returning to your body. You reach for his hand, but he pulls it back. Doesn't let you take the bird. "Excuse me?!"

"No can do," he shakes his head. "It's wing's broken. You can't look at it. Not yet."

An odd thing for him to say, you think.

Very odd indeed, considering he strung it up after your first trip to Busan, and has had ample opportunity to make any amendments, if he wanted to. You don't know any of this, though.

"Why—"

"Just because!" He interrupts, but he's smiling, at least. Is also naked, and given the fact you're sitting at the end of his bed, he should really be more careful about how vulnerable he is right now. You could sack-tap him, if you really wanted. Forcefully regain access to the 'broken' bird.

Silence lingers between you both, the tilting of Jeongguk's head puppy-like compared to the feline narrowing of your eyes.

Chalk and cheese, you really are ever so different and yet intrinsically fated. Aligning stars and strings of fate are weak in comparison to whatever it is you have between the pair of you.

Glitter and gold, are you and Jeongguk. Cosmic and yet entirely of this earth. Exactly where you're meant to be. Feet on the ground; heads in the clouds.

"Let me see it," you implore, reaching out to pull him onto the bed with you. He complies to this, at least. Even though he's on top of you, he ignores the nakedness, and the almost guaranteed sex he was about to have. Can't think about that right now. "There's nothing to be scared of, remember? It's just me. Just us."

Jeongguk lets the angle of his head drop ever so slightly as he shakes it. There's almost a sense of shame that washes over him; as if there's nothing more embarrassing than the words scrawled onto his bird.

"You're never normally this nervous over birds, Gguk," you smile, reaching up to rake your fingers through his messy, still damp, hair. A smile tweaks at his lips as you do so, his eyes lifting to meet yours. You can't help but notice the glisten of his lip ring from your peripherals. Even now, it still makes your stomach flip. "Nothing you could ever write on those birds would change the way I feel about you. You know that, right?"

Jeongguk barely registers the fact he's speaking out loud when he says, "That's kinda the issue."

With a groan, and a pitiful laugh, he rolls off you. His back thumps against his bed, and just like that, you're a pair of stars looking up to the skies once more. It's as if you're both aware you're meant for more than this world.

But Jeongguk's spent years staring at the ceiling. Never realised it wasn't the plain white paint that was keeping his attention, but his inevitable pull to the galaxies above and beyond.

It takes a second for the realisation to sink in, but once it does, it's stark: there are no birds left on Jeongguk's ceiling.

"How is it an issue?" You laugh, finding his sudden shyness endearing. It's not entirely unlike him, but he's usually far more confident in himself when it comes to the birds. Just a natural consequence of working through so many of them together. "Unless it's a break up bird—but you told me there weren't any."

"And there aren't," he laughs right back, sighing once the joy settles into the atmosphere around him. "It's just…"

You wait for him to carry on, turning your head to look at him. There's a smile etched into his cheeks, eyes starry as they look up towards the nothingness above him—and when he turns to face you too, it's like a meteor shower is happening right before your very eyes.

Silent as he passes the bird to you, silent permission is granted. What's his, is now yours.

"Read the damn bird," he quietly implores you, tucking loose hairs behind your ear. He doesn't need to. Is just preening for the sake of it. Because he can. Because he wants to. Because he needs distraction.

It's kind of funny. His heart was all out of sync when he strung the bird up, but it's calm now. Almost as if it was waiting until the right time. It fell at this very point in time, because divine intervention can exist. When it comes to you and Jeongguk, it seems like it always has done.

A hundred and one crossed paths brought you to this point; placed you right here, right now.

Maybe if you had paid attention during mindless Tinder scrolls and actually replied to the rogue guy who had your favourite Wave to Earth song as his 'anthem', Jeon Jeongguk could have been a casual hookup instead.

If you'd have been the one working on the till instead of serving tables at the cafe you used to part time in, Jeongguk might have dropped his change when he was distracted by your glitter.

Perhaps if you'd have paid more attention to the kind strangers grabbing you their favourite vodka in the supermarket aisles, or the boys you kissed at parties during your reckless university years, you'd have never ended up in Dionysus that night. Or at least you would have, but Jeongguk wouldn't have been a stranger.

If he'd have attended an event with Namjoon two years ago instead of bailing for the chance to grab coffee with Hayun when she was in town, he might've seen you rolling your eyes at the pompous chatter of the city's wealthy. He'd have laughed. Might've struck up a conversation. Probably would have felt guilty afterwards, as if he was doing something wrong. Maybe it would have made him realise Hayun wasn't right for him a hell of a lot sooner.

See, you've been orbiting one another for a while now. Since the dawn of time, really. Your paths just took a little while to align. Now that they have, they'll stay on this path forevermore.

Astronomers have learned that skies are largely made up of binary star systems; two stars orbiting one another. Half of all stars in the sky, or so they say. Some are so close that they even share the same atmosphere.

Collisions of these orbiting stars are rare, and almost impossible to predict. TESS data from NASA predicted such a collision would occur in the constellation of Cygnus, only for the data to have been incorrect. No merge to be seen with the naked eye; no new Red Nova to fill the skies.

Jeongguk half thinks perhaps astronomers had predicted his orbit incorrectly, too; as if they'd aligned him with a meteor when he should have been with a star.

S'why he thinks it took him so long to wise up to his inevitable collision with you.

Now that things have been recalibrated, and the data checked, it seems ridiculous for him to have ever thought a meteor was the correct pairing.

A star is what he needed. What he found in you.

As your fingers hook beneath the paper, and a coy look is thrown his way, Jeongguk realises that none of it matters.

He could blame this on the stars, or the astronomers, or the powers above—but you and Jeongguk are the product of conscious choices. Bad decisions, and good ones, too. Some pretty fuckin' fantastic ones, if you ask him.

There's a speck of glitter on the paper as you unfold the bird. It seems to take hours, Jeongguk thinks - he just doesn't realise he's impatient for you to know what is written inside it.

You give him one final glance before you look down at the paper, drinking in those dark brown eyes that are glittering with the reflection of you, then let your eyes drop.

Part of Jeongguk wants to snatch the paper back, again.

To make a fuss and make a nuisance. To tell you that it was just a fear, and that he didn't really mean it.

But that's the thing.

He's not scared.

And he really did mean it.

Lips parted, there's an endearing confusion lacing your features. Though his handwriting isn't anything to write home about, it's perfectly eligible. He knows you've read his words.

Tell B I love her.

Eyes flicking up to meet his, all wide and without reservation, they're accented with sweetly furrowed brows that just confirm to him that what he had written remains inexorably true.

He is in love with you.

It's sort of charming, how delicately he bites down on his bottom lip, nerves taking hold of his face.

So pretty, is Jeongguk whenever he's unsure of himself. He's strong far more often; confident in a way you don't think you'll ever truly master, but there's something about how dainty he becomes with vulnerability that makes your heart swell.

And God, you don't think your heart could swell any more. If you're not careful, it'll burst, and out will pour liquid gold; origami birds swimming in the essence that makes you live.

It takes you a moment to gather any words, so scared of saying the wrong thing.

"Do you?" You eventually manage to ask; not because you don't believe his words, but because you can't help but second guess.

Are so scared of looking foolish, that even though you know it's not some kind of sick joke, you just want to be sure that he's sure. That the way he felt when he strung that bird up is how he feels now. That the bird was strung up with intention .

There's a timidness to your voice, and that scares him . "Do you want me to?"

Part of you wants to laugh. It's such a cop-out. Can't answer a question with a question.

But you also can't let him doubt himself. Not now. He's given you the moon, and it's time you give him a little something in return.

"Yeah," you say quietly. A shy smile cracks on his pouted lips. "Yeah, I want you to."

And so it comes naturally when Jeongguk matches your tone, and shyly admits, "I do."

He breathes out a laugh, as if he can't believe he's just said it, then realises he hasn't said anything. Not really. He's not verbalised it, and so—

"Love you, I mean," he corrects himself. "Like, I— Well, I mean— Fuck. I just love you. Like, I really fucking love you, B."

"You love me."

"I love you."

"You love me," you say, giggling now.

Oh, it's all so sickening. Disgustingly sweet. Adorable, how your soft hands clutch his sharp jaw, pretty kisses being gifted to his lips.

"You know I do," he mumbles into your lips. "God, you know I do."

"Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

"I love you—now are you gonna say it back, or are you gonna keep laughing at me?"

"Not at you, Gguk," you grin. " With you."

"If you could hurry up and make grand declarations with me instead, it'd be much appreciated."

"Why?" You beam. "You think I don't?"

"Well, you've never told me you do."

"Hold that thought—" you clamber off of him and hurry to his desk. Pull open the drawer, with zero questioning from Jeongguk, 'cause what does he have to hide? You know him better than he knows himself. There's no part of him, not even secrets hidden at the back of his drawers, that he wouldn't share with you.

Taking a moment to pause, you reach up, loosen the tie around your hair, and toss it back to him.

"Eyes," you instruct. "Cover them."

Reaching to grab the silky material, Jeongguk just does as he's fuckin' told. After being so dominant with you earlier, he takes solace in letting you lead. Is so pretty, when you glance back, eyes covered, nose dewy, lips pink and perfectly aligned. Gorgeous.

Rummaging for a second, you pull out a fresh sheet of origami paper, and reach across to steal a pen from his pot. It's a black biro, nothing special, but the worlds you scrawl onto the paper? Oh, they're etched from stardust.

Turning to face him, as you fold up your very own bird, you climb back onto his bed, right where you left him. Straddled over his waist, you let the bird drop from your palms onto his chest.

"Oh no," you feign distress, carefully pulling down the tie to ensure it doesn't catch on his lip ring before it rests at the base of his throat. Nod towards his chest where the bird sits. "It fell."

Jeongguk can't hide his smile as he reaches for it. Holds it up to get a good look at it.

"Long lost brother of Perry," he assesses, still amazed at how uneven your folding can be. "Takes after his mother."

"Should read it," you say. "Then you'll know it really takes after its mother."

Of course it does. Is full of adoration for him.

A little hesitation prolongs Jeongguk's opening of the bird. It's like the build of a rollercoaster, and he's trying to ride the high before the drop. He keeps his eyes on yours as he unfolds it. Doesn't look down to read it.

Just looks at you.

Says, "I should have told you sooner."

The smile already on your face blooms a little wider. You just shake your head. Think he timed it just right—or that the birds did.

"Fell when it was supposed to," you promise.

And you're right. Even the birds you thought were too bold, or extreme at the start fell when they were meant to. After all, they lead you here.

Glancing down to your bird, Jeongguk inhales a sharp breath. Knocks his head to the side, hair ruffling against the pillow. His smile grows. Grows and grows and grows. Dimples make themselves at home, and stars litter his eyes.

The words are clear as day; biro on paper, ink on skin, stars in eyes.

I love you.

Looking back up at you, he cheekily asks, "Do you?"

With a roll of your eyes and a smile that Jeongguk thinks is so pretty he should learn how to write poetry, you sink into an all too familiar position with him.

The way your bodies move together is intrinsic; like trained dancers who have been rehearsing their steps for years. When you lead, he follows, much like he is now as your nose nudges up against his. Lips close enough to brush, you giggle. Almost pull back, because you feel all bashful and shy, but know that you can't. Not now.

"Of course I do," you whisper. It's so dumb that he even has to ask, but neither of you have been entirely foreboding about your true feelings. Always kept them squirreled away. Safe. Free from the prying eyes of those who wouldn't understand.

That's the thing though; astronomy is complicated, and tricky, and well above your pay grade, but everyone can see the stars. Everyone loves them regardless. They look to them. Wish upon them. Put faith in the way they move, even if the science makes no sense to them.

The same could be said for the pair of you; Galileo and his Saturn.

"Say it," he teases, lips brushing against yours.

"Say please," you tease right back.

"Not gonna beg you to love me."

"Hmm," you hum a noise of contemplation. Even though he's joking, you realise that there could be a little honesty behind the jibe. "You're a tough bargainer."

"And you love it," he says, because he needs to hear you say it.

There's really no need to play coy. Not now.

So you don't. Just nod. "And I love it."

"And you love me," he chances.

"And I love you."

The way Jeongguk kisses you now goes beyond just a simple meeting of lips. All-encompassing, he cares not for breathing, nor for the fact you're separate human beings. Your lips, your tongue, your moans, he wants it all. Needs it.

And you need him.

"Fuck me," you mumble into his mouth. "Please."

"Yeah?" He asks as if you're not already adjusting, amorous in the way you refuse to part.

Nodding into the kiss, you line yourself up with him. "Yeah."

The first push is slow; a welcome intrusion. You're still a little tender, and he doesn't personally care to be rough with you. Just wants to be with you. To fill you. To be as close as he can, as he mumbles candid declarations into your ear.

You beat him to it, though, as you sink down onto his incredibly hard cock.

"Fuck," you moan, all breathless and feeble despite no real action taking place. Clutching at his jaw, you rest your forehead against his. Swallow back another moan. Swear, through stifled breaths, "I love you."

He laughs. Oh God, he laughs, and you think he's never sounded more beautiful.

"Don't say shit like that," he smiles. Is breathless, too, when he laughs. "I'll die."

And die he does, not even five minutes later, in a mess of slow thrusts and deep confessions that he never thought would see the light of day. With their freedom comes his liberation; the knowledge that he can love and be loved in return. That it's reciprocal.

The way he comes undone for you is celestial; pretty whimpers and kisses that blossom and fall like cherry trees in the spring. Heaven on earth, even when committing acts that'd land you a permanent prison in hell. He'd take it, if it meant he got eternity with you.

That's the thing about love. There are no limits. He'll follow it to the edge of earth; the end of time. You'll encourage him on the chase, not because you're running from him, but because the idea of ever stopping fills you with dread. If eternity is an option, you want it. Want it with him.

Hips jerking beneath you, his back arching ever so slightly as his shoulders press into his duvet, Jeongguk is heaven-sent. There's a shudder to his chest. A haze to his dark eyes; stars sparking with every jolt of his muscles. Neck thick as he strains, the vein that runs up the side of his throat is begging for kisses.

Nodding, you encourage him.

"Please," you mewl, grinding your hips for him. There's a serenity to your skin; dewy and warm, just how he likes you. Cheeks pink, lips even pinker, he wishes he could preserve this moment forevermore, but has no idea where the fuck his phone is. Has to revel in it instead. Pay attention to every single one of his senses just so that he can recall it in his memories for years to come. But then you speak, and he can't compute fuckin' anything. "Cum for me, babe. Show me how much you love me."

He pulls you back down, not to kiss you, but simply hug you as his hips thrash up into you. Something about the way you call him babe just makes him feel so adored. Precious. Pink. Arms strong around your back, he presses kisses against the curve of your neck. Promises, "Oh, God, I love you."

He repeats it like an oath. A sacred prayer. Again and again, until he can't take it any longer. Asks where you want him to finish, and doesn't get a verbalised answer. Just gets your lips on his, whines in each other's mouths. Tongues, too. Teeth clashing, and absolutely no fucks given. It's frankly a mess, but fuck if it isn't the most at-one with another person he's ever felt. Just makes it so easy to unload himself into you; to fill you with everything that he is.

Hand gripping at the base of your ponytail, he pulls you back. Wants to look at you as the final ropes of his cum escape his body and find a home in yours. Eyes hazy and a little fucked-out, desperately trying not to get distracted by the glitter sparkling on your skin, he nods to let you know he's done.

Repeats, once more, "I fuckin' love you."

And then you're bashful. Giggling, as if he's just said the most sordid thing in the world. He winces a little from the pressure around his sensitive cock, but doesn't pull out. In fact, he keeps his hands firmly on your hips, keeping you in place.

Leaning down to deliver an incredibly sweet kiss, one that he'll want to lick from his lips forever, you whisper, "Good. I am your girlfriend. Would be super awkward if you didn't love me."

He rolls his eyes. Shakes his head. Laughs, now too, then taps your thigh to encourage you off of him, but doesn't let you get too far away. Pulls you in for a hug as soon as you're beside him.

"This shit'll never get old," he says, as he toys with your hand, lacing your fingers together with his. "God, why did it take us so long?"

It's a good question. One that you could theorise answers for—but you're sleepy, and you need to shower again.

"Stupid," is all you reply, pulling away and grabbing a fresh pair of Jeongguk's boxers to slip on just for a little dignity before you walk to the bathroom. He did finish inside you, after all. Is never the neatest of situations. Turning as you reach the doorframe, you're so incredibly enamoured with the way his eyes have followed you, chin pressed to his chest, face a little round from the angle. He's so cute it's hard to remember quite how domineering he had been earlier. "You coming with?"

"Shower?" He asks, to which you nod. "Go start it up. I'll sort the sheets, then join you."

"Want a hand? With the sheets?"

Shaking his head as he gets to his feet, he shoos you off. "I'll be, like, three minutes."

And because you're pathetic and hopelessly in love with the man in front of you, you say, "I'll miss you."

"Gross," he replies with a smirk. "Almost like you love me, or something."

"Nah," you shrug, matching his playful energy. "We're just friends."

"My cum is literally inside you right now."

"Okay, fine ," you exaggerate. " Best friends."

"Get the fuck outta here with that best friends shit," he laughs, as he sets about stripping the bed. "Go. I'll join you."

Eyes trained on you as you walk away, Jeongguk bites down on his bottom lip. Shakes his head. Hates how much of a softie he's being, but just can't help himself.

"Hey, B?" He calls after you.

"What?" You yell back from the bathroom, door ajar to make things easier for him. Expecting some dumb remark, you're grinning from ear to ear because of how easy all this is.

Things are finally falling into place.

As his voice echoes through the apartment, it seems like they're falling right where they were always supposed to.

"Love you."

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