#the immaculate consumptive

[jgthirlwell]

It's hard to believe that October 2023 is the 40th anniversary of The Immaculate Consumptive, the project that brought together Nick Cave, Lydia Lunch, Marc Almond and JG Thirlwell into a live performance group that performed just three times : twice in NYC at Danceteria and once at the 9.30 Club in Washington DC.

It's also the 40th anniversary of JG Thirlwell moving to NYC, as after the Immaculate Consumptive show he made the city his home.

[foetalmania]

JG Thirlwell and Lydia Lunch performing live as the Immaculate Consumptive, 1983. Unknown photographer, unknown venue.

[iamdangerace]

[manitat]

The Immaculate Consumptive was a collaborative group featuring four stars of the no wave scene, that existed for three shows in 1983. Its members were Marc Almond, Nick Cave, Lydia Lunch and Clint Ruin (a.k.a. J. G. Thirlwell)...

[cybershubunkin]

The Immaculate Consumptive: Nick Cave, Lydia Lunch, Marc Almond and JG Thirlwell

[yorsgirl]

Perhaps, in another realm

Ryomen Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: An elixir of life – you, destined solely for his consumption. Yet, in his pursuit, he forgot, he sipped away your essence, your breath of life.

Tropes: Dark romance, Historical fiction, Angst, fluff.

Warnings: implied nsfw, implied forced intimacy, forced marriage, baby-trapping, knife play, yandere themes, isolation, trauma, one-sided love implied, non-explicit violence, mild stockholm syndrome(to empathize with one's captor), misogyny, minor character death, healthily unhealthy relationship, Sukuna being a red-green flag, Sukuna has eyes for no one except his wife.

General Warnings: Heian Era, strict Japanese setting, usage of Japanese terms(glossary provided), True form!Sukuna, husband!Sukuna, wife!reader, usage of nicknames, no mentions of y/n.

Word Count: 3.7k

Glossary || Pictures

Ryomen Sukuna beholds secrets which he musn't.

Each dawn's awakening, he notes the sun's radiant dance on your irises. Marking the gentle arc of your lips, a telltale sign of mirth's embrace. By the garden's edge, he watches as the winds tousle and play with your hair curls.

With each flicker of your essence, he can't help but feel a pang of frustration at his own inability to guard his heart against the allure of your presence. Each time your unpredictability unfolds before him, he curses his own vulnerability for the arising tenderness within him.

It vexes him deeply.

Gnawing at the recesses of his, once assumed, dormant heart. Yet, now brought to life by unknown sensations – fuzzy and irksome.

An elixir of life – you. Meant to be solely consumed by him.

Your intricate curls destined to be twirled in his fingers alone. Singularly, he'd stand as the privileged observer, captivated by your brilliant elegance. Your figure draped in the resplendent folds of an opulent kimono, delicately bestowed upon you by his hands.

Thus, he embarked on the sole course he could comprehend – take you.

Splitting you away from the familiarity of a family, hearth and hamlet; for in his eyes, your fragile essence demands his safeguarding against this wicked, cruel realm.

Persuading you, that a life enfolded in his embrace had no reason for trepidation. Your purity, too immaculate to endure the harshness of existence.

Yet, persuasion faltered; your resolute heart held no inclination to remain in his grasp. Mounting a relentless siege, to break free from him and his distorted path.

"You crave peril as I assume, so be it," He conceded. "But know this: I'll be the sole peril haunting your very being."

Pressed beneath the weight of his body upon the bed, your resistance proves to be futile against his strength. Leaving you ensnared in a struggle where defiance falters in presence of his immense power.

"Isn't this what you desired? Didn't you yearn for peril?" He questions, his forefinger trailed across the delicate curve of your neck, assessing the rhythmic beat of your pulse point.

"Fear not, I shall burn the world down to literal ashes until none poses a threat to you, save for me, of course."

For danger, befalling upon you while his eyes held the witness and hands were the forebearer of pain – he'd allow. After all, he embodied peril, haunting humanity for centuries.

"My dearest," He began, twirling a blade before your defiant gaze. "I've wielded this to afflict your kin but fear not, it shall yield pure ecstacy for you."

Said so, he thrusted the timber end of the blade within your slick, delicate folds. Your screams shunned out over his malevolent laughter, fingers twisted the cotton sheets as he glided the blade in-and-out of you.

Blood dripped down his wounded hand, staining the white to red, yet his countenance held no response to pain. Gaze fixated upon your shuddering form, underneath him.

He was no stranger to the acts committed in bed. Knowledgeable of all ministrations and threads he needed to ensnared in order to make it pleasurable. Yet, you found no pleasure in this undoing.

The act of intimacy, which you envisioned to be filled with love while your lover would pepper kisses on your skin much akin to the gentle touch of spring's warmth.

That dream left shattered like shards of glass when your chastity was cruelly left to ruins under his harsh caress.

The night stretched on, your anguish unending as he remained vigilant, subjecting you to his torment.

When it ceased, he gingerly held your fragility while tears streamed down your eyes. He cradled your head in his palm, enfolding your trembling form against his chest as he murmured endearments into your parched ears.

You feebly hit on his chest, for you were seeking comfort from your captor – a sickening act.

He brought you pain and despair, yet here he was, bringing you solace in his arms. A sickening man, indeed, he was.

And with him, you were to stay.

.

You kneeled before the shrine deity.

Decked in a white shiromuku with traces of pink pattern embellishing the fabric, haori lowered just above your lips – grateful to the one who dressed you. Moisture laden lashes would've been a sight for sore eyes.

Beside you, your husband knelt. A black montsukini hakama draped around your self-proclaimed fiance and soon to be husband. Perhaps, you'd have seized the moment to admire him in such a lavish attire if he didn't commit the acts he did.

Abduction and coercion reigned heavy on your mind, the priest's chanting muffled over your loud thoughts. Your fear of the impending, palpable.

Later, you stood by his side, bedecked in jewels, unknown to you. Countless villagers and curses bowed before you but you were a foreigner to such deference.

It was his decree. For he was the King of curses and you – his consort, his queen.

.

Sukuna witnessed you gazing at the pond situated in his garden.

You gazed upon the lotus blooming at the heart of the pond, longingly. Reaching out for it, the trailing end of your garment splashed in the water – a futile attempt, too distant to grasp.

He stifled a snort on the brink of his lips as he descended into the garden, tethering on the stoned pads placed in between soil – approaching you.

"You desire that flower, wife?"

You rose swiftly, clutching the dampened hem of your attire. Refusing to meet his gaze, you brushed off the fabric, clearing away the soil.

"Apologies," You murmured. "I was just curious."

"That doesn't answer my question." He stated, an arch of his eyebrow at your frame. "Do you yearn for it?"

Standing before him, a hush lingered in the air, mere seconds passing. Fingers fidgeting, you nibbled on your inner cheek.

"Perhaps," you admitted, finally locking eyes with his feet once he takes a step forward. Bracing for the inevitable, you tightly shut your eyes.

You shouldn't have considered it. Entertaining the thought of plucking it behind his back, hoping he wouldn't notice, all the while unaware of his presence. You should have realized. Defiance in the past had met harsh retribution. This would be no exception.

"I beg–"

"Enough," He interjected.

You gritted your teeth, fists clenched tightly. This was worse. A single mistake, and you're sealed to a worse fate.

Yet, the vision never bore life.

He took your right hand, delicately clasping it within his own. Slowly, he pried open each finger, tenderly placing something within. Curiosity overrides your apprehension, and you cautiously open your eyes – finding the lotus nestled in your palm.

Your lips parted in astonishment as you gaze up at him, wonderstruck.

"Apologies should not leave your lips for trying to claim what is rightfully yours." He asserted, a ghost of an arc perched upon his lips.

"You desire something, you speak up," He waited, letting the words sink down. "Its upon me, how I'll bring it to fruition."

.

"You are to accompany master to dinner tonight," Uraume conveyed, head and eyes lowered in a humble bow.

The fusuma slid shut, signaling their departure, leaving you to your solitude once again.

Lately, companionship has been ceased from your existence. Confined to your chambers by Sukuna's decree that none other than he should share a moment with you. Save for his devoted servant and few maids he deemed worthy, who prepared you for the day.

Upon your bed, you rested, gazing into a void. Softly humming a melody, reminiscent of a distant song, echoing from the depths of your memory; harkening down the familial embrace in your ancestral village.

The day commenced to dusk, the sky donning a cloak of darkness – welcoming the night's silhouette.

Attended by chosen handmaidens, you were draped in a lavish kimono of crimson and ivory. Crushed red cherry paste graced your lips, a stroke of kohl ran along your lashlines.

You beheld your reflection, lovely; yet the joy eluded you. Unable to savor your captivating visage amidst your plight.

You were escorted to the dining hall by Uraume. As the doors parted, your captor, your husband, awaited you; seated on the head of the table. You took your place across him, evading his malevolent stare, your attention fixed solely on the delicacies presented by the servants.

"Afraid to meet my gaze, wife?" He inquired, his smirk palpable in his tone.

Still, you didn't meet his gaze, eyes fixed on your folded hands resting neatly on your lap. "I fear, I am not deserving to meet your eyes, your highness."

His sight danced upon your figure, measuring you as though you were his quarry. A chuckle escaped him as he poured the sake in his ochoko, indulging in a sip.

"Amusing, how you speak so when you are moons away from birthing my offspring, wife."

Your frame grew rigid, lips drawn tight whilst you glanced at your burgeoning womb.

Restraints couldn't bond you to him forever, he comprehended that moons past. Thus, he had to resort to unruly stratagems. Seeding you with his progeny – rendering you incapable of fleeing him.

If only, you acquiesced and remained by his side, as he craved, he wouldn't have acted thus. But your resolve left him with no alternative.

Not a matter to ponder his head upon, he would've planted his seed in you eventually. A kinship with you, his aspiration.

"I wouldn't leave you famished in such a state, wife. Begin eating." He declared, slicing a strip of meat with his chopsticks.

Eating, as if it were possible in such a condition. The satisfaction of a hearty meal has long deserted you. You didn't suspect the flavors of dishes perched before you. Furthermore, you lacked appetite.

You partook in meals solely to survive.

With adjoined palms, you offered a silent prayer to the almighty reigning above you. And so, you began.

.

Blood bathed the tatami mats of your chambers.

A severed head of a, newly appointed, handmaiden, laid near your feet. Her corpse, probably resulted into hundreds– no thousands of strips, indistinguishable.

Your stance remained rigid and motionless. Terror evident on your countenance, fragile fingertips shaking with shock and apprehension.

"Ah wife," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. He approached you, stepping over the puddle of blood and sliced flesh.

"You weren't supposed to witness that– come," He gingerly caressed your skin, ushering you out of his chambers with a hand on your back.

"Uraume," He summoned his loyal servant, as on cue, they knelt before their master. "Have the maids tidy this mess."

With the subtle nod, Uraume pivoted around, carrying out their master's command alike a proclamation from thee almighty.

Snapping a life wasn't on his schedule today. He wished to spent it with you, hence summoning you back to your chambers.

Perhaps, a foolish handmaiden, attracted by his visage, made the decision to lure him with her appeal. Lowering her uniform to display her curve of of breast, singing praises of his brilliance to him.

Taken him to be resembling any ordinary man, giving into his desires by just any woman's revealed skin. Alas! He had no interest in any woman other than his wife.

An act of like that, only receives the treatment he'd bestow upon any mortal other than you.

Death.

.

"I must say, you look lovely, my queen." Twirling a strand of your hair, he pushed it behind your ear.

Upon the engawa of your husband's abode, you knelt, sight fixated on the swarm of fireflies illuminating the garden.

Sukuna held his stance beside you, lower two hands bearing his weight behind, the third perched upon his arched knee. He set the kiseru down with the fourth, his thumb and forefinger lifted your chin; coaxing your towards him.

"Intriguing, you are," He remarked, eyebrow arched.

"Such defiance you displayed upon our initial union, and now, you show indifference. Continuously subjecting me to such blank stares and compliance." A hint of exasperation lingered his tone.

"Isn't that what you wished for?" You retorted, a moment later.

Drawing you near, his lips brushed against yours, "Perhaps, I did do." He murmured, breath caressing your cheeks, prompting a flutter of your eyelids.

"But now, I yearn for something greater."

With that, he seized your lips in a fervent, fiery kiss. Only parting, a hair's breath away, to allow you to catch your breath.

He pivoted you gently, drawing you into his embrace. Two arms encircled your waist, one caressing your swollen belly. Third, Brushing aside your hair, you heard the tinkling of ornaments. Moments later, a chain adorned your neck, a crimson gemstone nestled between your collarbones.

"Ruby?"

"Rubies are ill-suited during pregnancy, its diamond" He corrected, whispering beside your ear, securing the clasp of the chain. "Unlike most, this one's tint sets it apart than rest."

"For what?" You questioned, assessing the gem like it were poison. Grasping it between your middle finger and thumb, the lantern lights reflected on its surface. Though small, you knew it amounted to more than your ancestral wealth.

"Do I need a reason to spoil my wife with jewels?"

A moment passed in silence, your gazed him through your peripheral vision, the next. "Perhaps not, its beautiul."

"Turn around," He commanded, you complied instinctively. Turning your body to face him.

His gaze met yours at first, second they drifted to the chain bedecked on your neck and on third, he glanced at both, at once.

The jewel's radiance evoked with you being it's wearer.

A grin cracked upon his lips, gingerly holding your cheek in his calloused hands in which you begrudgingly leaned in. With a mouth, summoned on his palm, he placed a chaste kiss on your skin.

"Just how Intriguing you are, wife."

.

Love for your son eluded you.

A splitting image of his father with the identical hair and carmine tinted eyes. You pondered if he'd grow up to be just like your husband.

At days, you couldn't muster the courage to cast your eyes upon him. His mere presence: a testament to your plight, evidence that you were no longer the woman you once were and evidence to your compliance to Sukuna's desires.

Even then, you never shied away from your duties as a mother.

Perhaps, some love existed, for he wielded your flesh and blood too.

You were rendered from ever escaping. Though half-heartedly, you didn't wish to leave your child with Sukuna even though you despised both of their existence.

In this era, nurturing a child as a sole woman was beyond grasp. For all held the thought, as a woman your sole duty was to remain by your husband's side and bear his offspring.

You couldn't return to your home either. Your father, though loved you, would never let you set foot in his abode ever again.

Reasons: You were abducted by a man, your chastity stripped off of you. You were no longer pure in any sense.

He wouldn't tarnish his family name and reputation for just a daughter.

Moreover, your matrimony with the wicked, king of curses had reached rivers far; binding you to his side forever.

Peril loomed at every turn, dangling your life by a single thread. Easily snapped by even the weakest of men. Sukuna's adversaries would leave no stone unturned to reach him, venturing as far to lay down the life of his innocent wife. Someone absolved of his transgressions.

Reluctantly, you accepted that remaining by his side was the wisest decision.

You cradled your son in your embrace, rocking him back and forth as you hummed a lullaby to put him to sleep.

Once his snores serenaded the room, you tenderly placed him upon his cot, adjacent to your own resting place. Gentle pats graced his chest, once you noted him stirring in the embrace of slumber.

"Come to bed," Your husband's voice echoed in your ears. Compliance swiped in your being, a swift rotation of your heels after you had checked your son to be far from awakening. You parted the curtains and perched upon the bed – lying beside your husband.

His arms encircled around your waist, drawing you to his chest, he inhaled your scent.

Your body tensed when his lips brushed against your nape. You dreaded the inevitable.

Six moons had passed, since he last embraced you intimately. The last two, post your son's arrival, were a blur of exhaustion. From tending to your physical strain and catering to your son's ceaseless crave of attention.

Tonight, all you longed for was to surrender yourself to slumber, wrapped in embrace of gentle linens. Alas, it seemed that wish would remain unfulfilled.

You were keenly aware of his intentions tonight – for he was but a man. Thus, you braced yourself.

You waited in anticipation, for him to act on his desires. Yet, it did not come to pass.

You cracked your eyelids open, stealing a glance at him. His carmine eyes met yours in a resolute stare, holding it with unwavering poise.

"Retire to sleep," he finally remarked, tenderly brushing aside the tendrils from your weary visage.

A year prior, during the early nights of your newly forged union, you would have taken a moment to contemplate his actions, perhaps even staying awake the entire night to discern his intentions.

Now, whether out of trust or simply exhaustion from the demands of motherhood – you found yourself slipping into a dreamless slumber without further ado.

The haunting nightmare of humanity, he was; yet, you found solace in falling asleep in his embrace.

.

His son has taken just after you.

Verily, his offspring could be likened unto a veritable likeness of himself in countenance, yet in comportment and carriage, he bespoke tales of you.

Awaking to the crack of dawn, shedding tears should companionship elude him. Taking solace in the embrace of the verdant garden, to which you oft escorted him. Even directing reproachful glances towards him, his father, whilst cradled lovingly in his paternal arms.

Beneath your eyes lay heavy shadows, hollows etched upon your cheeks, and a perpetual frown graced your lips, save for moments spent conversing with your offspring.

Sukuna escorted his sobbing kin from their chambers, affording you the much-needed respite that has eluded you of late; his offspring casted a disdainful gaze upon him.

"What? Speak up if you wish to," He queried, a playful lilt adorning his speech.

He tenderly traced his son's tender cheek with his claw, wary of leaving any mark upon his cherubic visage. His son seized his finger in both tiny hands, elevating it as though clutching a covert weapon – scrutinizing the nail and the ridges with keen interest.

His little one beamed, a gesture akin to the gentle breeze of summer, bestowed upon him by the heavens above. A giggle swift past his lips – a laughter, he assumed angel's melody wouldn't sound better.

His smile was yours – Sukuna realized. Perhaps, he hadn't completely taken after him in physical features.

Rocking his form back and forth on his arms, a tender smile danced upon his lips.

"Lower the tone, child. Your mother rests inside."

.

Sukuna couldn't help but contemplate alternative scenarios.

He sipped his sake, his gaze fixed upon your figure, leaning against the amado – your eyes lingering on the cherry blossom trees outside, in the garden.

The fragrance of spring permeated the air, imbuing a soothing atmosphere, starkly contrasting with the terror he instilled upon the village beyond the river.

At moments such as these, he can't help but ponder on the possibility of attaining a kinship with you, without resorting to unruly methods.

His thoughts rewind to the clash conversation he shared with you, mere moments past.

In your gaze, defiance ablazed, aimed straight at him.

"What's your intent? To end my life? Proceed, now. Who held you back? Proceed. Perhaps, I'd choose that fate over spending another day with you."

"Make no mistake," You pressed on. "My sentiment for you isn't love, don't deceive yourself. What festers within me is pure, unadulterated hate."

How could he let slip from memory? A curse he was, brutal and unyielding. Unwelcomed, marked with shame – The disgraceful one. How could he fail to recall? Love's realm, forever beyond the reach of his reach.

He seized you, by means unorthodox yet deemed vital. Yet, he finds himself lost in contemplation.

What if he had treaded a different path?

Would a love aglow your heart if he had courted you in a proper manner? Would you accept him in your life – a husband, a companion, a lover? Would you had willingly become his? 

For your presence brought his heart back to life; in doing so, the life and light was lost from your eyes.

Scorned by the desire to claim you as his, the thought of your own desires, feelings was pushed to the desolate corners of his mind.

In another realm, he assumes– in another realm, he might have treated you properly from the very beginning.

In another realm, you wouldn't have to have a lingering threat struck on your mind. You wouldn't fear him.

In a realm beyond, you'd stand beside him by choice, not coercion. A realm where he'd navigate every step flawlessly. A realm where, instead of vowing to set the world ablaze for you, he'd pledge to journey with you until the world's end.

Perhaps, in another realm, you'd fall in love with him like he did for you in this.

A/N: uhm uhm uhm, just typed down an idea which I had for days + I used a new format of literal english (idk how it turned out, I am so sorry if it's cringe 😭) + I fucking don't know how to end stories so bear with me.

[narcoticv3nus]

Burning Desire ౨ৎ Simon “Ghost” Riley & John “Soap” MacTavish

Kinktober Day II: Threesome

summary: your boyfriend returns home after deployment, bringing home his other plus one. tags/trigger warnings: 18+, f!reader, praise, a bit of degradation, anal, double penetration, ghoap, dom!simon, switch!john, sub!reader, alcohol consumption, smoking, cursing, use of pet names, author attempts at accents wc: 4.6k a/n: i’m a little late, but i didn't expect it to be this long. i had also never written a threesome before, so bare with me. sorry if it's bad i panicked.

MASTERLIST

Simon: Coming home late.

The room is shrouded in darkness, with only the soft, bluish glow of the phone's screen cutting through the obscurity. As the familiar ping echoes through the room, you let out a tired groan and shift your weight, reaching out with one arm to find your phone. Your fingers dance over the surface of your nightstand, searching for the device as you roll over onto your side.

Another ping rings out.

Simon: Johnny is staying the night.

As you shifted onto your stomach, you reached for your phone to catch up on your notifications. Despite the late hour, you were undeterred. You’ve grown accustomed to your boyfriend's unpredictable schedule and hold no resentment. Trust is the foundation of your relationship, and it goes both ways.

You: Okay. Drive safe.

You let out a long, exasperated sigh, feeling the weight of the day's stress bearing down on you. Tossing your phone somewhere onto the rumpled sheets of the bed, you rolled over, pulling the comforter snugly around you, and allowed yourself to sink back into the welcoming embrace of sleep.

The room's quiet was suddenly interrupted by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps approaching and keys jingling. The distinct click of the front door being forcefully shut filled the air, causing your eyes to snap open in surprise.

As you lay in bed, you could hear the lively chatter of the Scotsman echoing through the walls, emanating from the kitchen. The sound traveled through the house, reaching your ears before your boyfriend intervened and reminded him to lower his voice. Despite the hushed tones that followed, you were already awake.

You let out a weary sigh as you sat in your comfortable bed. As you shifted to the side, your bare feet touched the cold, smooth surface of the wooden floor, sending a shiver up your spine. With a reach, you turned on the lamp, and the previously enveloping darkness of your room was replaced by the gentle, warm embrace of its soft yellow light, casting comforting shadows on the walls.

As you walked out, the soft light from the kitchen illuminated the distinct figure of your boyfriend, Simon. He stood tall and broad, his presence commanding the space. His friend was busy unlacing his boots, sitting on one of your kitchen chairs, while Simon leaned casually against the counter, a faint smile playing on his lips as he engaged in conversation.

You cleared your throat, making your presence known as you observed them with narrow eyes.

They halted their conversation, both turning towards you like they had been caught discussing something that wasn't meant for your ears.

“It’s four in the morning.” You said with your arms folded over your chest, your jaw clenching as you watched both gazes fall to your chest before meeting your face.

“Could you be a little quieter?” You let out a deep sigh of frustration, feeling your chest tighten as you looked down at the pristine white tiles of your kitchen floor, now marred by the unmistakable pattern of dirt and grime left behind by a pair of rugged combat boots. The once immaculate surface now bore the imprint of someone's rugged footsteps, starkly contrasting the pristine environment you had meticulously maintained.

“Seriously, Simon? How many times have I told you–”

“I did miss you, sweetheart.” As your boyfriend approached you, a wistful sigh escaped his lips, indicating a mixture of longing and resignation. His steps were deliberate, almost as if he were lost in thought, paying no attention to the words you had spoken moments earlier.

“Did you hear anything I just said?” As he loomed above you, you couldn't help but feel a mix of apprehension and anticipation. You felt his presence as he leaned in, his hands finding their place on your hips and applying gentle pressure. His face drew closer to yours, and you turned your cheek to him, feeling the warmth of his lips as they made contact with your skin

“I'll clean up the mess, love,” he grumbled, dissatisfied with your reluctance of his affection.

“Good.” You let out a frustrated huff, feeling the weight of your annoyance as you turned to look up at him. As your eyes met him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of softening in your demeanor. The tension and frustration building inside your chest seemed to dwindle as you gazed up at him slowly.

"I missed you too," you replied softly, your heart racing as you met his intense gaze. His lips curled into a satisfied grin, revealing a hint of dimples before they slowly pressed against yours, sending a rush of warmth through your body. His hand gently held the back of your head, pulling you closer, trapping you against him in a tender yet passionate embrace.

As you pulled away, you couldn't help but look over Simon’s shoulder to the man sitting at your table with a sly grin, his pale eyes twinkling in humor.

You’ve met John before on many different occasions, some similar to nights like these when they stumbled into your home, sometimes drunk and chattering like a couple of girls over steaming gossip.

You’ve come to terms with the fact that they're a package deal. John, who Simon affectionately calls “Johnny,” is always one step behind him, yapping on and on about something or other. Those two are so different, but they make it work like the sun and the moon.

John had a charismatic way of flirting that seemed to charm everyone around him, including you. Despite Simon's usual protectiveness, he appeared to make an exception for John, allowing him to get closer to you than anyone else. However, it wasn't just you that John interacted with suggestively. There were moments when you noticed the way John looked at Simon, and it seemed to go beyond just friendly admiration. At times, you dismissed it, attributing it to John's flirtatious nature, but there were hints of something more beneath the surface.

“Hi John,” you greeted almost bashfully, embarrassed to be standing in front of him in your night clothes.

With a warm smile spreading across his face, John greeted you in a deep, smooth Scottish accent, "Hey, darlin'. Didnae mean to wake ye up. Hope we were nae too loud, eh?" He flashed a teasing grin towards Simon before turning his attention back to you, eyes scanning your body with a flicker of appreciation. He stood up, revealing his impressive frame adorned in a loose, sleeveless shirt and shorts, showcasing his tattooed arms.

“Well… I’m up now.” You answered, making your way into the kitchen and opening up a bottle of wine to pour yourself a glass before returning to sleep. “Might as well hang out for a little while.” You missed the shared glance between the other two as you brought the rim to your lips.

Chuckling lightly at your comment, John sauntered to the kitchen counter, leaning against it effortlessly. His eyes followed your movements intently, admiring the curves of your figure hidden beneath the loose fabric. As you sipped your wine, he couldn’t help but appreciate your beauty in the dim lighting.

You watched as Simon disappeared into your room, likely changing into something more comfortable as he got ready for bed. You didn't think much of it.

Your attention was redirected as John approached you, casually reaching for the wine bottle, pouring himself a generous glass, and raising it in a toast. "To us, eh?" He clinked his glass gently against yours, maintaining eye contact. "Simon's a lucky bloke to have ye," he said sincerely before siping. John traced his fingers along the rim of the glass, enjoying the sensation of the cool glass against his skin as he waited for your reaction. His free hand rested on the counter, only inches away from yours.

You felt your heart race as you glanced downward, acutely aware of his proximity before locking eyes with him. His piercing, icy blue eyes sent shivers down your spine and ignited warmth. "Thank you," you whispered, moistening your lips with the tip of your tongue, your voice barely above a breath.

You watched his eyes flicker downwards before meeting your eyes again, a knowing grin on his face. He reached up, rubbing his jaw as he looked down at you. You conversed for a few minutes, the tension in the air increasing as your body grew warmer with anticipation. You couldn't care less about the questions he was asking you, only entranced by the softness of his gaze and the sultry allure of his voice.

The room fell silent as Simon reentered, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of you with a hint of knowing amusement. Despite the subtle flicker of emotion in his eyes, his expression remained stoic and unreadable, revealing nothing of his thoughts or intentions.

John raised his glass in a silent salute, acknowledging his presence without breaking eye contact with you. He took another slow sip of the wine, savoring the rich flavor while keeping his hand close to yours. Turning towards Simon, he asked, "What do ye say, mate? Another drink before we all turn in?" His voice was playful and suggestive.

The silence hung heavy in the air, but John never faltered, his easygoing demeanor masking the anticipation that surged beneath the surface. He set his glass down next to yours, his calloused hand brushing gently against your arm. With a sly grin, he continued, "Unless there's something else ye'd rather be doing?"

“I…" you whispered, your voice fading into the tense air as the two men fixed their gaze on you. You observed Simon approaching with confident strides, a hand resting lightly on John's back. He casually took the drink from John's hand, raising it to his lips, and savored the taste of the crimson liquid before running his tongue over his lips.

You watched as he handed the glass back to John, his hand sliding down his back before he made his way in front of you. His hands found your waist, his thumb idly drawing circles into your shirt before he hoisted you into the air and onto the countertop. You let out a yelp of surprise, lifting your cup into the air to prevent a spill.

“Simon! You–” he cut you off once more, taking the drink from your hand and setting it down beside you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I could've spilled that…” you murmured, his dark gaze silencing your protests.

Simon chose to ignore you as his hands drifted up and down your body, feeling you up before his hands descended to your thighs, parting them firmly yet gently.

“Wait… uhh…” you stammered, your voice coming out in a weak and shaky breath, anxiety bubbling in your stomach, knowing his best friend was watching.

John watched with hooded eyes as he moved in, enjoying your reaction to Simon’s assertiveness. His heart rate increased as the situation unfolded. Setting his glass down, John took a step closer, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of your calf, eliciting a soft gasp from you.

His gaze shifted between you and Simon, drinking in your connection before finally focusing on your face. "It's okay, lass," he reassured you with a low whisper, his accent thick with desire. "We'll take care of ye." He let his hand trail up your leg, the touch gentle but possessive, as if claiming you for the night.

As you seemingly got lost in John’s gaze, you felt Simon’s hand cup your chin, redirecting your attention towards him as he leaned forward, catching your lips in another kiss, yet longer and more passionate, before his mouth descended towards your neck. Instinctively, you arched into him, your hands reaching up to entangle themselves in his hair, letting out soft gasps and airy whines.

With a lustful glint in his pale blue eyes, John followed suit. His rough fingers slowly worked their way under your shirt, exploring the soft skin of your lower back. He leaned forward, his breath hot against her ear. "Feels good, eh?" he asked, the question barely audible yet loaded with anticipation.

You nodded your head, gasping as you felt Simon’s finger dip between your thighs, fingers diligently pressing against your clothed clit, feeling the dampness of your panties from your arousal.

John’s hands continued their exploration of your body, moving to caress the swell of your breast. In sync with Simon's rhythm, Soap pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder, the contrast of his stubble against your smooth skin sending shivers down your spine.

Time passed slowly as both men continued groping your body, Simon’s fingers parting your panties to the side, sliding his fingers up and down your pussy, coating them in your juices before pressing them inside. You let out a shaky moan as John continued kissing your neck and whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

Simon's fingers slid in with barely any resistance despite being away for some time. “Simon…” you called his name, one hand clutching his bicep.

“I know, love,” he said, his voice guttural and thick with desire as his heavy gaze adorned you. It started off slow until his thick digits were twisting and curling inside you, pumping in and out in preparation for what was to come.

You could feel John’s breathing growing shallow and labored against your skin. He trailed his free hand down to the front of his pants, subtly adjusting himself; you couldn't help but think how uncomfortable it must feel. With a smoldering look, he whispered your name into your ear, “ye've got us both ready fer ye. Where would ye like us, lass?"

You suddenly remembered that you were still in your kitchen as Simon began to remove your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold air and causing your nipples to perk in response. As Simon’s eyes darkened, his hand reached up to cup your breast, squeezing with an appreciative groan. “Aye’ve missed these two,” he said bluntly.

“Wait,” you stammered, breath shaky and uneven with excitement and anticipation. “We should… go to the bedroom.”

You yelped as Simon lifted you, tossing your body over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. Your eyes met John’s before he shot you a wink as he followed close behind, shedding his shirt from his back revealing his muscular torso. Your eyes roamed the hairy expanse of John’s body. His stocky build was lined with scars and tattoos decorating across his skin.

Once you reached the dimly lit space, Simon gently lowered you onto the soft bed. He swiftly removed your shorts along with your underwear, revealing your arousal to their hungry gazes.

John reached forward, running a calloused thumb along your inner thigh, spreading your legs further apart, exposing your slick folds. “Ye’re absolutely breathtaking,” he said, his voice thick with lust.

“Thank you,” you replied breathlessly as Simon’s large hand traveled down your body.

John leaned in, letting his fingers trace over your thighs, savoring the softness of your skin. He moved his thumb teasingly over your clit, watching as your hips bucked slightly at the contact. His eyes locked onto yours, drinking in your reactions as Simon’s mouth closed around one of your nipples, eliciting another moan from you.

"Got a pretty voice, Bonnie," he murmured, increasing the pressure and speed of his ministrations. His other hand snaked its way behind your knee, encouraging you to spread your legs wider for him before he dipped his head between your legs, replacing his thumb with his tongue, lapping up the sweetness you offered. He groaned appreciatively, losing himself in your taste and texture. His fingers slid inside, curling and thrusting in tandem with his tongue, determined to bring you to the edge.

“She does,” Simon agreed, removing his shirt and unbuckling his belt as he shook off his pants. You watched in awe as his fist curled into John’s hair, shoving his face deeper, causing his nose to press into your clit, as you keened in response, your fingers entangled into the sheets beside you.

His fingers continued to explore you, finding that perfect spot that made you squirm and moan louder. As your body tensed, signaling your impending climax, John picked up the pace, his tongue swirling and flicking relentlessly. He continued to pleasure you, savoring each moan and twitch of your muscles. With each stroke of his tongue, you felt yourself growing closer and closer to orgasm.

“That's it, love," he encouraged, "Let it all go.” His arousal was evident, his trousers straining against his erection. Finally, with a loud cry, you came apart in his mouth, your hips bucking wildly. John held steady, drinking in every drop of your release, his fingers still inside you, gently massaging your G-spot as your orgasm subsided. He pulled away, a satisfied look on his face, only to find Simon watching him intently, his gaze filled with lust.

John licked his lips clean before moving up to kiss you deeply, sharing the taste of your pleasure between the two of you. After breaking the kiss, John’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced at Simon. "Care to join in properly now, mate?" he asked, gesturing towards your still-quivering body.

He ran his hand up your torso, cupping one of your breasts tenderly, while his other hand reached down to stroke Simon’s hard length, showing that he was just as eager to pleasure him as he was to pleasure you. Your thighs threatened to squeeze as you watched, your gaze dancing between them both before Simon leaned forward, hand still curled in John’s hair, before tilting his head back and capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss.

Their tongues tangled together hungrily, hands roaming over each other's bodies as if trying to memorize every curve and contour. Breaking the kiss, John shifted his focus to Simon, taking his hard length in hand and beginning to stroke firmly. He looked up at Simon through his lashes, his gaze filled with heat.

With an encouraging nod from Simon, John leaned forward, pressing his lips around the head of his cock, teasing him with slow, deliberate licks before taking him fully into his mouth, making sure to maintain eye contact while pleasuring him. You gasped in shock as you watched, moaning at the sight of another man pleasing Simon in the same way you did. Have they done this before?

John grinned around his cock as he increased the pace of his strokes, his other hand fondling Simon’s balls with just the right amount of pressure. You loved the way Simon’s muscles flexed beneath his touch, the sounds of pleasure he made, and the pre-cum that coated John’s lips.

With a growl, Simon grabbed Soap’s head, pushing him down further, and Soap eagerly obliged, his arousal mounting with each thrust—the room filled with the sounds of heavy breathing and skin slapping against skin.

Feeling left out, you reached out towards Simon, grabbing his arm closest to you as leverage to lift yourself onto the ground. You rested your hand on his cheek, turning his face towards you as you leaned in to kiss him.

Simon chuckled deeply, struggling to return your kiss as he moaned against your lips. “Please,” you begged, your body squirming in desperation.

You looked down to see John releasing Simon’s cock with a wet pop as he grinned up at the both of you, a devilish gleam in his eyes. His gaze shifted between your hungry expression and Simon’s lust-filled face.

Breaking away from Simon’s embrace, John stood behind you, trapping you between them as he encircled your waist with his powerful arms and pulled you back against him. His erect manhood pressed firmly against your lower back as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Ye can have whatever ye want tonight, lass,” John promised, nibbling lightly on your lobe. His hands roamed over your curves, sliding up your torso until he cupped your breasts, gently kneading them.

You moaned, your hands resting against Simon’s chest before he took your wrists into his hands, backing you both up until you felt John’s hands pulling you down onto his lap. He shifted backward and urged you along until Simon’s knees caused the bed to dip low.

You shivered as John’s hands glided down your sides, appreciating your softness and warmth with an appreciative hum. “God, ye’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his Scottish brogue thick with desire. He leaned back onto his elbows, supporting your weight with ease. As you settled on his lap, John shifted slightly, allowing his hardened length to slide between your legs. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure coursing through your body, and you could feel his hips bucking up into you, teasing your entrance.

You watched Simon closely, his eyes never leaving your joined bodies. “Fuckin’ Christ,” he groaned deeply, his eyes raking over your body. With a knowing smile, John leaned forward, capturing your lips once more as he slipped his hands between your legs, his fingers dancing along your inner thighs.

Simon leaned forward, yanking your face from John’s before sliding his tongue against yours, pressing his body against you before he abruptly pulled away, twisting your body around with your chest against John’s. Your breathing picked up as your eyes met his, your fingers sinking into the skin of his hairy chest. He chuckled at your expression, his large, warm, calloused hands dragging down your back before cupping your ass and squeezing.

You gasped as you heard the signature pop of a bottle opening before feeling the cool liquid slide against your puckered hole. You've done this before with Simon, but knowing you're going to be filled in two places at once has you shuddering violently.

“Hold still,” Simon’s voice cuts through the air as he holds you by your hips, halting your squirming. You whine, burying your face into John’s neck as you feel two thick digits push inside of you. You've never gotten used to the stretch, even as his fingers spread wider into a scissoring motion, pumping into you like he did before.

You hear John chuckle from above you, his hand petting your head gently as he bucks against you, continuing to catch against your hole before pulling back.

“Ready, lass?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly. He gripped your hips firmly, guiding you down onto his eager cock, his muscles flexing underneath you.

You held your breath as you slowly lowered yourself onto his erection, your wet heat clenching around him in a tight embrace. He let out a deep growl of pleasure as he filled you.

John wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as you adjusted to the fullness inside you. His fingers trailed up your spine, leaving goosebumps in their wake before he gripped your shoulders firmly. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Just hold on, pretty,” John whispered, his voice husky with desire. He felt your body momentarily stiffen before you began to move, your hips rolling against him in a rhythm that made him groan. He reached up, gently tugging his fingers in your hair as he guided your head towards his. Your lips met in a searing kiss, your tongues dancing together as John moved his hips in tandem with your movements, driving himself deeper inside you.

Simon pulled his fingers out as he situated himself behind you, “Easy, love,” he reassured, sensing your tension as Simon prepared to enter you from behind, placing his hands on top of your ass before spreading them wide and spitting on his cock for good measure. He took himself in his hand, slapping the tip against your entrance before sliding inside, letting out a deep grunt as he slowly thrust forward, filling your ass inch by inch. As Simon pushed in, John focused on maintaining his rhythm. His hands roamed your body, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.

You clutched John for dear life as Simon’s hand curled into your hair, pushing you forward as leverage to sheath himself fully inside you. You reached backward, holding the hand firmly on your head, your nails digging into his skin. “Thas’ it, sweetheart. You can take it.” Simon groaned, his gentle thrusts quickly turning rough.

“Fuck, ye’re so tight,” John whispered, his voice husky with desire. His eyes never left yours, watching the pleasure dance across your features, your breasts bouncing with every thrust. He reached up, tracing your jawline with his thumb before tilting your head back, exposing your neck for him to taste. His teeth grazed your sensitive skin, eliciting a moan that punched from your chest.

“Ye like this, don’t ye?” he asked, his accent rolling over the words. He felt your body tighten around him, your breaths coming in ragged pants.

You nodded swiftly, words unable to form on your tongue as wanton moans spilled from your lips uncontrollably. You’ve never felt so full in your whole life.

You feel John’s grin against your neck as your body adjusts and accepts them. He pressed his lips to your skin, suckling gently, his hand finding its way to your breast, kneading it softly as Simon’s hips continued their relentless rhythm.

“That’s rieht, love,” he murmured, “Just let go.” You could feel your orgasm building, your inner walls contracting around them, your moans growing louder. He slid his other hand between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it in circles, teasing you. “Cum fur us,” he urged, his voice strained with restraint. You felt Simon’s grip tighten on your hip, his pace quickening, the headboard hitting the wall in a steady beat.

John’s movements were confident and practiced, each stroke sending electric sparks coursing through your body. Your moans grew louder, your breathing more erratic, as you neared your precipice. His thumb circled your clit faster, applying more pressure, his fingers dipping lower to gather your slickness. You felt Simon’s thrusts grow deeper, more urgent, and knew they were both close. John leaned forward, capturing your mouth in another searing kiss as your orgasm began to build, your body tensing above him before you let out a silent scream as your release overtook you.

John let out a deep growl as he joined Simon in their mutual release, filling you. The sensation of their combined pleasure washed over you like a tidal wave, leaving you spent and satiated. As they came down from the high, he kept his lips locked with yours, savoring the intimate connection. You felt Simon’s weight shift as he pulled out of you, allowing John to move closer, cradling you between them.

Your heavy breaths mingled in the quiet room, the only sounds being the distant thunderstorm outside and your racing hearts. Pulling away from the kiss, John pressed his forehead against yours, sweat glistening on his brow.

“Fuck that wos gud,” he breathed, his voice still husky with lust. He gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back as you heard Simon retreat into your bathroom. The signature sound of a faucet running echoed in your ears.

You were spent, slumping against John’s body as the heaviness in your eyelids soon overtook you. You whine at the sensation of Simon cleaning you up. The rough and wet texture of the hand towel against your sensitive bits had you leaning away.

“I know, I know,” Simon grunted, stilling your hips as he cleaned you. Once he finished, John repositioned you on the bed, pulling the covers over your spent body before kissing your cheek.

“Git sum sleep, hen.” he chuckled, his arm wrapped around your middle. Simon settled in next to you, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pant pockets, resting one between his teeth.

As the faint, lingering scent of cigarette smoke wafted through the air, you felt the warmth of a pair of hands gently tracing intricate patterns across your skin. The soft, rhythmic motion of the hands, combined with the soothing aroma, created a tranquil ambiance that gradually lulled you into a state of peaceful slumber.

main masterlist, rules

[biblically-accurate-dca]

immaculate consumption

[haechrry]

Who's bad? | L.DH

PAIRING: Lee Haechan x Fem/reader (mentions of other idols)

GENRES: Strangers to enemies to lovers, smut, fluff if you squint, a lil bit of angst, humor (i tried, bear w me)

WARNINGS: Alcohol consumption, explicit smut, language, sub/dom (more like switch*) dynamics, sexual tension, dubcon, unprotected sex, haechan monster cock agenda idc idc, creampie, fingering, oral (f/m receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, pet names, begging kink, praise and degradation kinks, impact play, breath play, overstimulation (f/m receiving, but, hyuck's receiving more lets pretend ur surprised), dacryphilia, squirting, haechan is mean n down bad at the same time. Minors do not interact.

SUMMARY: Lee Donghyuck saw you while you were on your working hours, with a pretty frown on your face, and decided to shoot his shot disturbing the peace of your mind. But one thing was sure: he found something to sink his teeth into, and you were on the same page as him.

WORDS COUNT: 11.7k

PLAYLIST/SONG: Bad - Michael Jackson

[author's note is at the end!]

"We're closed."

"No, you're not. I still have a few more minutes left."

A thud rang through the walls: exasperated, your forehead slammed into the shelf in front of you, where various cameras and lenses were placed immaculately.

It was ten minutes before the closing of the shop, you were mentally and physically tapped out, so dealing again with people wasn't part of your plans for the evening. You were on the verge of freaking out on a daily basis, but that day was more stressful than usual, 'cause there would be a big event in the city, hence you had to serve a crew who were in charge of filming the occasion. And of course, they were demanding.

"It's part of human decency not to show up at closing time." You weren't afraid to fight back, on the contrary it made you feel satisfied if it were a debate you could easily win.

"And I don't care. I just need a new battery for my camera, then I'll head out." The man did in fact not care, 'cause before you could blink he was right in front of your very eyes, in all his height, staring down at you. He must have figured out where your voice came from.

It wasn't his fault, he forgot to check the battery status of his camera as time passed, in consequence it burned right after he took the last picture he needed. But you didn't need to know that, you weren't his friend and it's not like he was that keen on explaining himself, especially to strangers. So he kept staring with his unflinching gaze waiting for you to finally move and get him what he wanted. In which he was, obviously, pleased; it was part of your job, you could not fail in your duties even if you didn't like the attitude of a customer.

And you didn't like at all the man's behavior, your left eye was trembling with anger.

Not saying a single word though, you retraced your steps, directed to the section where you could find the cameras' batteries, and picked some of them, not sure which camera he had.

You went back to the cashier's desk, expecting to find the guy already there, if he was a little bit perceptive. You found out that he was in fact, perceptive. If your best friends were there, you would've asked them if they could slap the living shit out of you, 'cause there was no way you actually thought so low of a stranger, you weren't usually like this.

"Just pick the one you need and then please, go away." Your voice sounded exasperated while watching him picking the right battery, so he said nothing, at least he seemed to have understood you were really tired and not able to deal with him. A small 'thank god' resonated in your head while you were putting his things in your shop's bag, and handed it to him, with a circumstantial smile plastered on your face.

"That's what I said earlier after all, Miss.Happiness. And nice bump over there, on your forehead." A wink before he could vanish after the sliding doors. You were wrong, and he was already gone.

Again, you slammed your head on the countertop.

"I'm telling you 'Ning, he walked in like he was the owner of my shop. Pretentious and everything, you know how I hate that shit." Out of breath, you kept walking down the street, right where the event would be held.

It was your day off of the week, this is why you were strolling around, with one of your best friends on a call, and also 'cause this was one of the roads that led faster to your house.

"But I swear to god herself, I was this close to pulling out his vertebrae one by one, and use them to play fucking hockey in my fucking backyard." The tone of your voice went from angry to calmer than two seconds before, 'cause maybe now, you were too distracted by your surroundings.

Several teams were working fast in front of your figure: there were those who were setting up the stage, others the street, which was decorated with various electric cables covering the asphalt, and the trees were decorated too with small lights and colored ribbons. Videocameras were placed on both sides of the stage and in front of it, for different perspectives. So many led spotlights for distinct purposes.

Everything about that deeply fascinated you.

"He was also pretty. Don't pry, this is why I refrained myself 'Ning." Your distraction made you lose the control of the tongue. And even your thoughts. 'Cause yes, he was indeed a good-looking man: the way his black hair fell on his forehead, right on top of his piercing dark eyes too, caught the air in your throat, and it made you to freeze on the spot without a single thought in that head of yours the day before.

Not to mention his deep voice and his tanned skin, the latter got you the urge to trace every inch of it with your own hands, if not lips. You didn't know yet, but if there was one thing you surely knew, it was that his eyes were exactly on you. In that exact moment.

The necessity to disappear in a split second far exceeded any other desire you ever had, but it didn't seem like it was too much to ask, because soon enough an electric cable got in your way, causing you to fall down and make out with the road. Maybe you should have done what was written on the ban sign, which was not to get too close.

You even saw him moving from his position to approach you.

"I'm fucked." Groaning in pain you quickly stood up, fixing your now dirty clothes. You heard Ningning saying a 'you wish, bestie', before you could close the call.

How outrageous.

"Was the asphalt telling you a secret or what?"

"Okay, first of all I saw money on the ground and I wanted to pick them up. Second of all, fuck you, you basketball hoop." A finger pointed at his chest.

It did feel good going for his throat now that you didn't have to be professional for your job.

"This explains for sure why you panicked when I noticed you. Did I, perhaps, make you flatter, pretty girl?" He smirked while crossing his long legs to lean against the barrier behind him.

You surprisingly took your sweet time to let your gaze embrace his full body in the meantime he was talking, understanding what he was actually saying, but you decided to briefly ignore him.

It wasn't your fault if he was dressing prettily, the black skinny jeans were literally hugging his long legs, enhanced by the suede boots he was wearing, and the white shirt was doing god's work. You shook your head and took a few steps away from where he was standing in all of his glory.

"Are you Ryan Reynolds?" You crossed your arms to your chest.

"Damn, I wish."

"Keanu Reeves?" You tried again looking him deadly in the eyes.

"Of course not?"

"Lee Dongwook?"

"...Are you slandering me?" He spread his arms exasperated.

"Then watch your mouth, nameless boy, I know the game you're on." You grimaced.

"Donghyuck. And believe it or not, you know nothing, doll."

He was no fun.

It was as if an iceberg suddenly had taken his place; his glacier tone remained in your mind for a while, and you kept following him with your eyes until he returned to his previous spot, now with his camera's lace around his nape.

You couldn't lie, he was sexy as fuck, but you truly couldn't understand what was that. You guys had just a little to a nonexistent conversation in these two days, and it was mostly insults and cold comebacks, so you didn't understand why he was trying to hit on you. It wasn't like you weren't attractive enough, indeed quite the opposite, but guys like that were known as troublemakers, and you'd rather be a snippy bitch than to get hurt for this kind of game.

Sighing, you decided it was time to go home and rest before it was too late, the next day would still be a working day for you.

You only hoped these three weeks would pass quickly, 'cause it was bright as the sun that you had to see Donghyuck every day.

Donghyuck. You tasted the name on your tongue. That motherfucker had a pretty name too.

Ningning were on your left, Yeri on your right, and Chenle and Renjun were walking in front of you. According to Chenle, staying on the same line as Ningning would lead them into a fight. You'd swear they'd get together sometime soon, they were just momentarily blind.

You and your friends were coming back from the shopping centre, now heading to your house for a sleepover, so walking down that street was necessary if y'all didn't want to add another ten minutes to your little trip.

"Please guys, act normal, we're getting close to where he works for the event." Days prior you ended up freaking out in your best friends group chat about Donghyuck, telling them how confusing and unnerving he was, 'cause in one moment he was flirty, and in the next one he was cold as a mint popsicle forgotten in the freezer for years. Let alone his look, they had to put up with you 'cause you couldn't stop drooling all over him. So they insisted on seeing him.

"You're talking like we can embarrass you, come one now, Y/n." Chenle gave you a side eye before he could turn around again as you watched him in disbelief.

"Renjun? Chenle?" A distant high-pitched voice called the names of your friends. Confused you all turned towards the direction of it, and you almost gasped audibly.

"Yo, Haechan!" The three of them exchanged a nod of acknowledge, followed by a handshake as if they were companions of a lifetime.

"Miss. Happiness. Do you still have the money you found on the floor last time?"

You mouthed him a 'fuck you, giraffe.' and he fucking smirked at you for the second time in these last days, then he greeted the girls as if it was nothing and returned to the boys for a chitchat.

"And now what the fuck he means by Haechan?!" You whispered in panic to Yeri and Ningning, while the both of them just laughed and shrugged you off. Of course they couldn't know.

A few moments later, they finished their gossiping and Renjun and Chenle returned to where you girls where standing waiting for them, luckily it was late afternoon so you didn't have to wait under the scorching sun in the middle of the summer.

Donghyuck seemed to get you were a close friend of his two best friends, so he actually got convinced and before he could get back to his work, he explained to y'all how he ended up working in such place: two of his other buddies, Johnny and Kun you recalled, were searching for some help for the event they were working for, and he happened to be good with the camera, so he accepted the offer also because he wouldn't mind working with his friends.

A stark contrast from what he seemed to be. You really didn't know anything about him, and you knew it was wrong to judge a book by its cover, so maybe you should given him a pass and had fun without overthinking things too much. In the end it shouldn't have been anything too serious.

"Don't tell me he's the Donghyuck you told us.. and what kind of money was he talking about?" Renjun just let his eyes come out of his sockets as he bumped into you with his shoulder. You groaned like you were in actual pain, not wanting to remember any part of that.

"I fell in front of his eyes a week and a half ago, and at that time I just came up with a lame excuse, saying I didn't fall but found money on the ground, instead." You whined while looking at your feet kicking a tiny pebble. "Don't ask me anything else, this is awkward enough." A loud laugh and various 'always the same' 'you're so clumsy' and a 'so gawky' emerged from the small circle of your friends, and they were on a thin ice 'cause you almost smacked every one of them.

"I can't believe he actually gave you his government name. He won't even let us call him like that."

"Renjun's right, i think he's hitting on you for real, Y/n."

"Yeah, okay, but I don't understand why he's doing this?" You gawked at the boys in front of you like they had two heads each and their body was united together, but again, no answer as they shrugged you off before entering your home and make themselves comfortable.

You guys were dispersed around your living room, now chugging on your beers while debating on which game to play or what movie to watch together.

"If Y/n wins at rock paper scissors, we'll watch again John Wick with her, if only one of the three of us wins instead, Y/n's gonna try to give Haechan a chance and be friend with him." You scoffed at Renjun. And to say you thought he was the only one on your side.

Un-fucking-believable.

Your competitive spirit kicked in, and at their signal you threw your choice. Scissors. You cheered on your victory swinging your fists in the air while your feet were stamping on the carpet. Yeri just threw paper, Ningning scissors too, and Renjun the same as Yeri.

One moment.

Your cheerings came to a stop, and Chenle gave you a sympathetic look.

"I lost, didn't I?" Emotionless voice, as you couldn't believe what you saw.

"Yeah."

"...We can still watch John Wick together, Y/n." Your wails were the only sound echoing in the room, as you sat down on your couch already searching for your favorite movie on your streaming platforms.

Would have been the fucking bare minimum, assholes.

"Chenle, I'll take Daegal out every day for a month." You prayed him with your eyes from your spot in the middle of the movie.

"Not happening."

"I'll do the chores at yours for the rest of the summer."

"Appealing."

"So it's a yes?" Your voice was exuding hope.

"No dice."

Goddamit.

Another week passed.

You were taking easy the whole Donghyuck-Haechan situation, and though it may seem strange, you were trying to be more loose around him. Starting by smiling and waving in his direction, or making small conversations when you had to go through the street where he was working, he noticed that, and seemed to admire it, since he always greeted you back, and from time to time he too took the initiative, which you treasured heartily.

One day he even unexpectedly came to your shop to give you coffee, making you at a loss for words. No one had ever done such a thing for you, and the coffee was just perfect to say the least.

"I just tried to guess what your favorite coffee was, so I went to the cafeteria down the road earlier, and bought you one." He would've said smiling at you. Not a smirk, or a lipped smile. A full smile. And his smile was so- it made the air inside your lungs dissipate, basically.

Aside from that, you actually spent willingly the rest of that morning with him in your store concentrate on the different cameras and their lenses. He was so endearing wrapped up with the things you loved too.

God, what the hell was that.

You soon found out that he was undoubtedly an amusing, witty and smart person. Quite the opposite of the façade he put on when you first met, the sleazy flirt was still there, but the cold surface was starting to melt down, if not it was already melted completely.

Donghyuck didn't know either why he wanted to mess up with you that bad, it was like his gut feeling told him to do so in the exact moment he saw you roaming with that cute frown on your delicate face around your store, so he went for it. In simple terms, that philosophy was his ride or die, he just did not expect you to act in the same way as him. The way you fought back that day made a strike in his mind, and jokes on you if you thought that Donghyuck would have let you go.

After he bought you the first coffee that day, he kept doing this everyday, and he made sure to buy a coffee for himself so he could drink it next to you in your store, and if it wasn't the coffee in the morning, it was a packed lunch in his break from work. The boy always asked you how was going your day and if you needed anything.

Eventually you ended up opening a little and telling him more about yourself, like how you as the owner of your store was the result of your passion for photography, except you couldn't use a camera, and he genuinely laughed at that revelation, finding you adorable and telling you in exchange how he made photography one of his hobby and sometime, his job too.

It went like this, it was as if you two had made a pact: you told him a fact about yourself, and he in return told you something of himself. His persistence was what you got convinced that giving in wouldn't hurt no one, and also 'cause his presence started not to be so bad as in the beginning.

Fucking Renjun.

And this is exactly how you got at the event that day. In the long run everything was ready for the occasion, so the day the show would go on the air had arrived, and you were close to being ready to go.

Yeri and Ningning came to your house early that afternoon, they said they would get ready with you, so there you were, sitting on the floor of your room while putting some make up on, mascara and lip tint were generally your pieces de resistance, so you opted for them for the night not wanting to exaggerate.

Ningning was roaming enthusiastically in your closet 'cause based on what she said your outfit should have made an impression on everyone, to whom you raised a brow.

"I'm definitely not wearing that." This time both of your brows was raised to the roof, scowling at her for good measure.

"'Ning it's a music show, not a pool party, that skimpy dress looks like a fucking bikini." Yeri deadpanned frowning and you almost launched at her and kissed her on her pretty full lips. Maybe you should've done it.

"Can we make out?" Your eyes were glowing like a light stick while looking at her, but soon your vision went black.

Was that a pillow? Your pillow bed?!

"No."

What was the meaning of your life if you couldn't even kiss your best friends? That was the most atrocious thing in the whole world.

Sooner or later the three of you got dressed in time, settling on for just summer dresses 'cause you all realized it was still hot even though it was nighttime, and the lightweight fabric in contact with the evening breeze, was doing wonders on your skin while walking down the streets, slowly reaching the set up venue.

You all stopped at a stand, fortunately on your way, to get a drink and you didn't know why, but you were in the mood for a piña colada, so you settle on it for the night. Yeri, Ningning and you, once arrived, perfectly found a spot where you would've had a good view of the stage but at the same time not being in the middle of the crowd, y'all didn't want to sweat.

There was a good atmosphere, for someone who had only seen the preview, there was to say that everybody had done a good job with the location, and as a matter of fact, a few photographers were around you to capture the foremost moments.

Hoping to go unnoticed by your two friends, you searched for Donghyuck knowing that he was there to work, and even just seeing him for an instant would have been enough for the rest of the festival.

Little did you know.

After a while you indeed spotted him, you supposed he was taking a rest in the staff's section and he too was sipping on his drink while chatting with his colleagues; as might as expected the piña colada didn't affected you that much, your blood alcohol level was nonexistent, but you still felt the sudden desire to go and greet him and let him know that you were there too.

"Girls, I'm just gonna say 'hi' to Donghyuck," you shouted over the music and the crowd loud noise, pointing a finger behind you in Donghyuck's direction, "I'll be back soon!"

They gave you a thumbs up and vanished in turn into the throng, leading to who knows where. You eventually updated the girls on your start of friendship with him, and they were strangely happy about that, Renjun and Chenle instead, limited themselves to wink and smirk at you, patting your shoulder in the end.

You reached the brunette guy over where he was standing with a cup of alcohol in his hand, and poked his left side with your index, definitely surprising him. Donghyuck always thought you were actually an introvert and didn't like these kind of places, but seeing you there with a drink in your hand and a silly smile on your face, took him off guard, but he greeted you back and returned your smile, kissing the back of your free hand too.

What a gentleman.

"How's going your night, Hyuck?" You grinned as you took a sip of your drink while looking at him up and down, he looked good that night, even with a slight layer of sweat on his forehead. You caught sight of the dampness also on his neck and on the portion of his tonic chest left uncovered by the unbuttoned shirt, but afraid that he could've realize what you were doing, you quickly looked away, and 'cause you did not want that view to distract you again too.

"Actually, I think it's going much better now, you know?" Donghyuck found endearing your grin and he smirked at you sizing you up, finding you extremely cute for his own sake. "Who are you trying to impress? Me, perhaps? 'Cause it's working, doll." He took advantage of the loud music to get close and hear you better, so close that he could count your upper and bottom lashes, and you could see his dark irises being illuminated by the spotlights, and able to feel his sweet breath gently hitting the lower part of your face. Your body tingled at the sensation, but suffice it to say, you didn't mind at all.

"I thought you got tired of flirting for nothing? Be easy on yourself, Hyuck." You scoffed and purposefully rolled your eyes at him, trying to hide the amused smile by taking a second sip of your piña colada.

You guessed you were starting to get again under his skin with your bitter remarks, but honestly? It was too fun. Plus, he didn't give weight to it 'cause in those three weeks he pretty much figured out that your character were calling for someone who would match it, someone with the same fiery energy, and he knew that people who didn't respond cheekily to a person like you, could be a big turn off. You were just like him. That's why he always had a ready answer for you. He wanted to let you know that he could be a good candidate for you, but you were- oh so hard to read.

He wouldn't give up on you though, if he was knew for something, apart from being the epitome of ENTP, it was surely for his determination.

You'd be his at the end of this circus.

"I may go easy on myself, but I for sure won't go easy on you, baby girl." He winked while pointing at you.

Was he recreating Rihanna's meme?

"Donghyuck." Your voice was stern while you were trying so bad to keep a straight face.

"Too cheesy and cringe?" He asked flatly, and you simply nodded.

"Noted." And he clicked his tongue.

When all was said and done, he searched for a couple of chairs for you and him; it was an event were the public could watch standing, so there weren't many chairs out there, but luckily he managed to find one there in the staff's wing and he offered it to you.

"You're working Hyuck, you're definitely more tired than me." Shaking your head you declined his offer, gesturing him towards the said chair, but he instead poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue closing his eyes for a brief moment and opening them again to look at you poker-faced.

If you didn't know any better, you were actually this close to suck him fucking dry, you cleared your throat to distract yourself, in panic you tried to compromise, "Okay! Okay what if- what if you sit, and I sit on your lap?" You looked at him tentatively, and he simply snickered, sitting down on the chair and manspreading.

Juicy thighs on full display.

Someone up there must have hated you to her content. At that sight, you started praying in every language you knew.

"C'mere, my sweetheart, I don't bite. Or I do bite, if you prefer." He patted his covered thighs with his slender hands waiting for you to sit on him, and gaining a little more of boldness, you confidently sat sideways on his lap. You grimaced snorting loudly at his comment, taking another sip of your piña colada, realizing you almost drank it all.

"Will you ever actually stop?" You weren't annoyed by his words, actually his way of sweet-talking to you was what you got all wound up.

You realized that the night was taking a turn from the moment he placed his free hand on the small of your back. You quivered under his dark gaze feeling even smaller than you already were near him, while goosebumps were starting to be visible on your arms caused by his slight touch.

Nonetheless, you were capable of feeling his warmth through the fabric of the dress. He placed his camera on a tiny counter for the occasion near him, where lenses cameras and lights were scattered around, and before he could do anything you heard him whispering seriously this time:

"Your own eyes are betraying you, Y/n. Stop making a fight, your talk is cheap." Thank god you were sitting on him, otherwise you wouldn't have heard his deep voice. He simply responded flatly before he could set one hand on your jaw, lightly squeezing your cheeks together so to make your lips pout, your heart and stomach dropped, making you breath heavily, not to mention the literal feeling of your face growing red at such a simple touch and a few words certainly said with no care.

How embarrassing of you.

And things got worse when you felt him leaning in, capturing your lips with his.

You physically felt your breath get stuck in your throat, fingers fidgeting not knowing where to put the hand without the drink in, deciding to just put it on the base of his neck, intertwining your fingers with his short but still long enough hair on his nape.

He deepened the kiss by angling his head to the side, brushing your bottom lip with his tongue only for him to part your mouth with the latter and settle within your soft lips, tasting in the meantime the flavor of each other's drink you were previously drinking. You pulled away reluctantly, you feared that kiss took you to the moon in the true sense of the word 'cause your lungs were begging for a breath of air, but you knew it was an exaggeration and it was your mind's fault for your body to react like that to him.

And did he say your name or was your brain tipping over the edge?

"How did you know-" You said out of breath biting your bottom lip, in hope to taste him again.

"Your best boy friends can't keep their mouths shut. Blame them, pretty." He said in amusement. One of his hand was now caressing your bare thigh, where the edge of the dress did not reach, as if you didn't have enough chills along your spine.

You promised yourself to have a tiny little talk with both of them later.

Now you were just pondering whether or not to kiss him taking the initiative, but before you could answer you found that your lips were on his again, kissing him fervently, with your other hand clutching his shirt, to get even closer to him than before.

You started to feel heady again and the sudden awareness of the ache between your legs started to kick in. The only way to find relief in that moment was to clench your thighs together, hoping to go unnoticed, but that idea went out of the imaginary window in your head as you felt him nudging at the back of your right thigh.

The hand previously on your skin, went up on your ass, kneading it shamelessly for everyone to see, and you almost leaked through your panties at the mere thought of doing the deed in public, but the need to have him laying under you on your comfy mattress got the best of you.

"Hyuck-" you breathed out on his lips, parting slightly from him, watching him with your pleading eyes, silently saying to do something.

"I know baby, I know. Show me the way." Hearing your breathy and delicate voice saying his name like that got him weak in the knees. He didn't think twice before caving in, so he literally followed you like a lost puppy while you were dragging him down the road to your house, trying to be as discreet as possible.

Technically, he was still on his working hours, but practically he didn't give a damn.

You let him in, and without any hesitation and zero effort you were pressed against your door with your legs wrapped around his waist.

What did he need that small waist for? For another people to grab it? Whore.

Well, in that case you were circling it with your legs, but you certainly wouldn't have wasted the opportunity to grab it with your hands thereafter.

You apparently weren't the only thing pressed, 'cause you felt him again against your core this time, and the pressure just felt amazing, but it wasn't enough.

You parted from his swollen-kissed lips to say that your bedroom was down the hallway to your left, he nodded in response and began to make his way through your house with you still anchored in his arms.

You didn't waste your time, and in a matter of fact your plump lips were leaving lazy kisses along the line of his sharp jaw, leading to his soft spot under his right ear, and ending your journey on his collarbones, gently biting his sun kissed skin every now and then, feeling his breath cut off in his throat and gasping under his nonexistent breath when your teeth were sinking into his flash, making you grinning devilishly. Pointless to say you were determined to hear more sound like those coming from him.

He kicked open your room's door with one of his foot, not caring to close it shut 'cause he looked like he understood you lived alone, and no one could have unintentionally disturbed or interrupted you.

Surely a gift sent from god herself.

Donghyuck threw you without grace on your bed, making himself at home between your now parted legs, the consequence of being sprawled on your sheets was that your summer dress collected around the curves of your hips and the straps of your dress were no longer on your shoulders, but hanged loosely on your arms, leaving you in a vulnerable state right in front of his eyes, not being totally covered. It wasn't uncomfortable though, to tell the truth you even spread more your legs wanting him to be comfortable, wanting his eyes fixated on you, and it was not long in coming.

He felt his cock being restricted in his jeans, and by that you were able to see its outline and you could witness it was massive, to say the least. You gulped down the saliva that had formed on the back of your throat, asking yourself if it was even going to fit, deciding that the pain would have been worth it.

You curled your index in his pearl necklace bringing him down with you so you could reconnect both of your lips and make your tongues dance together, all while his hands were working frenetically trying to take your dress off.

He completed his quest the moment the latter went over your head, tossing it somewhere on the ground, making him stop above you and looking down at you with stars in his eyes, as if he had never seen anything more beautiful than you under him. 'Cause yes, he did think multiple times about how you could have looked without your clothes, he couldn't lie, but he would never have imagined such a view.

"Good fucking lord, you're so beautiful even like this." He stayed still staring at you for a little more, just to take in your appearance and memorize you in his mind, he then descended on you so he could have kissed languidly your neck and alternately leaving little hickeys behind his wet trail until he reached the valley of your breast, blueish and reddish spots rose on your skin making a little work of art to only you and the man all over you to see.

"I bet you'll be even prettier with my head between your legs and your pussy stuffed with my fingers." And the fact that you weren't wearing a bra? Fucking out of your mind, 'cause that sent Donghyuck head over heels for you. You were so wild, just like him.

And his cock were throbbing in his now tight jeans, but we don't talk about it now, he was already in pain enough. You squeaked at his implication, your body already trembling in anticipation. Still too intoxicated with only his close presence you didn't know if you were sober enough to receive more, but whether you were ready or not that was your fate for the night.

Not that you complained.

He kept faith to his words and before you could register what he said in your mind, his face were at the same level as your pelvis. The tip of his nose traced the edge of your panties, going painfully slow down to your slit, pressing for a moment his button nose on your clit under the light fabric, making you stutter his name under your breath.

You felt him grinning against the most sensitive part of your body, and not a second later he flattened his tongue on your lower lips, going slowly down towards your covered entrance, dipping in slightly for him to feel your arousal leaking through your panties. You were heavily breathing at that point, waiting anxiously for his next move, which immediately arrived.

Donghyuck wasn't exactly a patient person, so the said next move was him removing your panties with his teeth, slowly dragging them all down your legs and throwing them away on the floor to keep company to your dress that were laying there. His large hands found their place on your parted thighs now with your centre exposed, and he fucking whined at the sight of your glistening folds.

"Do something, Hyuck, please." You tried to wiggle under his firm touch, but he squeezed the flash of your thighs, making you whimpering loudly. His lips formed an 'O' when he caught your hole clenching around nothing while you whined.

"So, here I have a fucking greedy pain slut." He mumbled, and with that he dipped his head between your shaking legs. "Dear lord, you're so pretty even down here, how's that possible." You know he was talking to himself, but you couldn't stop the heat rising up to your face, and just wailed out lowly, throwing your head back on your pillows. You didn't complain, you were eager to feel him on you, and when he actually attached his lips to your core, you completely lost your mind. He trailed roughly in the middle of your puffy lips with his wet muscle, going forth to the entrance and back to your neglected clit, sucking firstly and hard on the little ball of nerves, and then on both of your lips.

"You taste so sweet, so, so sweet." At that your hands flew to his hair, gripping onto them for dear life while your moans reverberated off the walls, you heard him whimpering again, the vibrations clashing against your centre made you gasp and brought him even closer while your thighs clamped around his head, putting him in a headlock position. You'd swear you even saw him fucking grinding on the covered mattress at your action.

He was eating your pussy like a starved man.

"It seems that-" a gasp escaped you, making you arching your back off the bed, interrupting your speech, "I'm not the only pain slut here-" your mouth fell agape feeling Donghyuck easing his tongue past your entrance. You were starting to get addicted to his mouth, at that point. He stopped at your sensitive bud, lapping at it and sucking it in his mouth, in a repeated move, putting in the middle languid kisses that went straight to your core, and as if it weren't enough he pushed two of his fingers into your drenched pussy, his knuckles almost disappeared when he went all the way up to your g-spot.

Always straight to the point.

"You saw nothing, just concentrate on my mouth and my fingers, babe." You thanked god you didn't have roommates, 'cause his name moaned, whimpered, and whined, was the only thing you could hear all over your house.

The tension in your stomach started to build nearly immediately, as you were writhing under him, he was just good at that shit and you guys were only at the beginning of the foreplay.

"Haechan-" just slipped out of your mouth, and a harsh slap came in contact with your bare ass, leaving the red and the 3D print of his hand on it.

"Call me like that again, and I'll stop." And fuck, you did not want that to happen at all, damn you were already thinking about the second round-

"Shit- no, I swear I'm sorry, you feel too good, so good- Please Hyuck, I'm sorry just don't stop-" you were embarrassingly babbling, on the verge of literally sobbing because of the near first exploding climax of the night. You knew he was showing you pity as he returned to his actions, not before giving you a warning look, and you bit your lip while looking at him with your already fucked out gaze, hands still gripping hard his hair.

Independent woman my ass.

"Cmon Y/n, don't run from me, I can feel you squeezing my fingers, I know you wanna cum," He kept pushing in and out his slender fingers at a quick peace, making you gasping shakily whenever he curled his fingers upwards your spongy walls. "You can do it pretty girl. Go ahead, make a mess on my fingers." That was your last straw.

You cried out while squirming and twisting when the knot in your stomach snapped. And as you were calming down it felt like you were combusting on your spot, laying lifeless on your sheets trying to give your lungs the oxygen they lost along the way. If he gave you this mind blowing orgasm as your first, you didn't want to imagine how the upcoming ones would be. You were thrilled.

Donghyuck's next target was clearly your cleavage, he didn't say it out loud, but his eyes spoke for him, you could see the eagerness they were holding by simply looking at your chest covered by goosebumps while you were still breathing deeply through your nostrils. In his eyes you were mouth-watering just lying on your blankets in that already fucked out state.

But he had to wait because much to his surprise you were pretty fast at recovering from foreplay, and in just a couple of minutes you were face-to-face to him, in the same position as him on your knees, now wanting to have your fun with him. After all, he as well, deserved his part.

"I think we're playing an unfair game here, don't you think, Hyuck?" Dismissively you pointed the nail of your index finger on his chest, letting it slide down his torso, pressing gently against his shirt.

"What do you mean by 'unfair'?" Voice slightly strained as he was busy following your lips with his gaze.

"I mean that your clothes are still on, but mines are on the ground, don't you find it unequal?" You pouted while looking at him with your doe eyes, trying to be as persuasive as possible.

"Yes, I think you're more than right, actually." His words couldn't come out of his mouth faster than that, and you snickered in amusement at him. He were already so vulnerable, for fuck's sake.

"So, if I do this," you proceeded to unbutton the rest of his shirt, sliding it down past his shoulders and his wrists, "you don't mind, mh?" Your voice was sugary.

"Do as you please, I'm down with everything," he whispered on your mouth while you still were at his height on the bed, "just, don't tease."

You chuckled at him while you hooped a finger into his waistband bringing him closer, clashing your noses, "You better stick to your words. If you're fine with whatever, just sit back and enjoy your time."

What were you, the voice ad who tells you to enjoy your time watching the movie at the cinema? What the fuck Y/n.

You shrugged off your own ridiculous thoughts, and done that, you placed both of your hands on his firm pecs, not too muscular, not too scrawny, just to die for. Of course, for your standards. Hands started to drop down his torso, brushing and flicking on his nipples in the way, making him hiss, and he even tried to capture your wrists in his hands to stop you, but you gave him in return a dour look, so he stopped mid-air quickly mumbling an 'I'm sorry', and you pecked his lips as a reward.

You kept on pecking him, but each time you changed directions of your lips, moving slowly to the corner of his mouth, to his jaw, along the side of his neck, to his bony collarbones, and then down his abs, peppering his soft flesh with small kisses, and with kitten-licks in between. This, while your hands were still caressing him, coming down with you as you moved.

You eventually and finally reached his pants, not halting your movements and simply taking off his belt, absentmindedly placing it there on the bed, while his pants were quick to reach the pile of your clothes on the floor. You set down on your elbows, now facing his cock still restrained, and that's where you heard Donghyuck's breath getting heavy, but you plainly smirked up at him aware of your next moves.

You actually didn't waste your time and pulled down his boxers in one move, which took him off guard, making you chuckling. His member slapped proudly against his lower stomach, it reached his navel and you almost salivated at the only sight.

"Oh god, Hyuck you're so big-" you muttered under your breath and with that you simply wrapped your hands at its base, wanting first to slowly stroke him, tasting the waters. "I'm gonna deep-throat you-" you said without even thinking about the fact that he was literally so big that he would have split your throat in a half, probably because, in fact, you didn't care at all about that particular.

He choked on his saliva, placing one hand in your hair trying, but not trying at the same time, to stop you, "What- wait, I mean yes- oh my god, just-"

You shushed him by licking his leaking tip, going down the length of his shaft and reaching his balls, then you went back at the tip, and wrapping your lips around it your head started to bob up and down with a slow steady rhythm.

You heard him cursing in a soft tone, while his grip on your hair thighed, and you hummed contentedly at the slight pain on your scalp. At your hum you felt him twitching in your mouth, so you hollowed your cheeks around him and went all the way down his length, feeling him in the very back of your throat. Your gag reflexes were irritating you, but you fought them back and as a result tears started to form in your waterlines, feeling them at the corner of your eyes and down your cheeks afterwards.

He cooed at you, snickering proudly while your hands were squeezing his thighs for support, "Am I, perhaps, too big for my baby? Should I pull out?" You shook fast your head in a 'no' motion, looking up at him with your wet eyes, wanting to demonstrate to him that you could do it, that you wanted to do it at every cost.

And so he brought you closer with his hands on the back of your head, your nose was now touching his happy trail, and with his massive cock now buried in your throat, even if you were trying so hard to breath through your nose, you were never been happier than that.

"Fuck- you're so warm, stay still for a moment." he grunted while exposing his veiny neck, you started to feel like you were about to faint due to lack of air, but nonetheless, you felt again the stickiness between your legs.

He eventually released you, and you were able to breathe again, briefly gasping for oxygen waiting for your lungs to be full again, and as a matter of fact you were back to sucking him dry.

You hollowed again your cheeks around his shaft while your tongue were flat on the underside of his length, this time stopping bobbing your head where you were the most comfortable, repeating your motions until you saw his stomach contracting and him almost curling on you, while gasping for air, and you understood he was close to his climax. So you brought your hand to his balls, massaging firstly them together and then separately, and apparently that was his last straw, 'cause before he could warn you he was already releasing himself down your throat.

You peered at him through your wet lashes and noted he had his eyes screwed shut and his mouth wide opened, his cock still throbbing in your mouth, so you waited for him to come down on heart before you could pull off of him with a loud and wet pop, swallowing everything he gave you.

"I actually hate you." He said still breathing heavily, fixing you hair in the meantime.

"No, you actually don't." You grinned ear to ear and went up at his height again, throwing your arms around his neck while licking your lips, tasting again his release.

"How was it?" He asked you smugly.

"How was it what-"

"My cum."

"Donghyuck!" You yelled exasperate, putting your face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm kidding!" He kissed tenderly your exposed temple.

Your cheeks were burning at his action, but you were quick to change your positions so he couldn't see that. You pushed at his shoulders, making him to fall back on your blankets, head on your pillows, and bed eyes looking up at you, watching you attentively.

"I know you're not, you horny fucker." You straddled his lap, hands on his lower abs, and now with both of your legs on both of his sides, you just sat back, feeling his cock under the curve of your ass. And that made you smirk devilishly, 'cause it made you realize you were right on top of him, "Screw that, I'm the fucker apparently."

He raised an eyebrow at you, "Idea is not acceptable."

You raised back an eyebrow at him, "Idea is very acceptable," you wiggled your ass on his already growing erection, "Go tell your dick."

Grinding his teeth in annoyance he felt indeed his cock twitching under you, "You're being incorrect, princess and the pea."

You rolled your eyes at him, "You could have stopped at the 'princess', thank you very much."

"Stop being a brat and fuck me, you need an invite or?" He crossed his arms behind his head watching you with a defiant smile.

"How the tables have turned." You scowled at him, your hand reached down in between your bodies lifting yours up, to place the said hand on the base of his length, lining the tip at your entrance.

"Yeah, and I'll turn 'em again later."

You ignored his snark remark, even though his words were echoing in your brain like a nursery rhyme, and you just eased down onto him, letting him fill you up to the brim. You winced at the stretch, both his length and girth were ripping you apart, but you didn't complain at all.

"Fucking hell. I can fucking feel you in my stomach." You said with a faint voice, proceeding to moan rolling your head back, staying still for a moment, adjusting to his size.

You slightly lifted your ass up, leaving only the tip inside, still feeling full, just to smack it loudly against his tonic thighs trying to remain as quiet as you could 'cause you wanted to hear him, even if you wanted to scream out loud thanks to him who was reaching places you didn't know existed, causing you to violently clench around him and repeat your moves.

"Shit- Y/n you're so greedy and for what," as if he didn't know. He grunted, gripping your hips so forcefully you feared he would find the pieces of your flesh in his hands, but that pain only wounded you up even more, in fact, you felt yourself dripping into his shaft, the wetness helping your movements to get more smooth, and that made him hiss through his teeth, closing shut his eyes while whimpering.

Greedy for you, dickhead. You truly wanted to reply, "Your brobdingnagian dick makes me greedy, Hyuck." You opted instead, moaning shakily when he accidentally met up with your hips while you were going down.

"Never say that again." He tried to keep a straight face, but he soon realized that it was like boiling the ocean. Impossible.

After he closed his mouth, well, opened his mouth, to stop talking and letting out his moans mixed with his whimpers, you started to move off of him and on again, this time faster, making your boobs bounce up and down in a rapid motion. He was salivating at the view, and his hands were quick to make it to them, holding onto them for dear life, kneading like they were pizza dough, registering in his head that they even fitted perfectly in his hands.

He was waiting for this, to make you his, since the first time he saw you.

He was looking, trying at least, at you with so many emotions and feelings in his eyes that he couldn't even comprehend what they were exactly. Could you be more perfect than that?

Well, he figured it out that yes, you could be more perfect than that, in the exact moment you stopped bouncing on him, and started to fucking grind on him. Moans and curses words were spilling out of your mouths almost at the same time, both of you started to get louder. You felt him twitching more repeatedly than before, signaling you that he was reaching again his climax, and you were on the same wavelength if it weren't for the fact that you were restraining yourself from being only one step closer to that.

"I'm close- I'm fucking close Y/n, slow the fuck down-" A white ring of your slick around the base of his cock, now sliding down his balls and onto the mattress. He babbled out of his breath, not noticing that he was pinching your nipples between his fingers while he was holding your mounds, making your core tighten around his erection.

"And why would I do that?" You whined while your nails were digging deeply in his chest, unhurriedly sliding down his stomach and pelvis, leaving vivid red marks behind. If you were to be marked, he had to be too.

"'Cause I want- fuck- I want you to- cum first." You literally felt him trembling under you, and you tsked at him, how could he say such a thing if he was literally on his last legs? That's what he made you obsessed with him when you guys first met.

"Lightning never strikes twice," you clenched around him again, "this time, you cum first, pretty boy." and apparently it was the straw that broke the camel's back.

His legs folded under you making them crash into your back, while he was messily thrusting up into you to catch his own release. You physically felt him shooting his cum into you, filling you up as you never were in your whole life. Now it was his turn to lay lifeless under you, taking in deep breaths.

But you didn't give him much time to recover, you were still trying to reach your climax, which it was closer than you thought.

You regained your movements, grinding on him with your clit now in contact whit his pelvis, but it wasn't enough, so you brought your hand on it, and began to stroking it with your middle and ring fingers, the movement made your head fall back, resting on the knees of the guy who were stuttering under you, gripping your thighs as his life depended on them while watching you touching and getting yourself off, using him. You just were so hot in his eyes.

"Y/n-, Y/n stop, I'm gonna- gonna come again if you don't stop like," he gulped down while he whined like a baby deprived of his pacifier, "right fucking now- oh my god I'm dying, I'm dying, I'm dying-" he kept blabbering and stuttering, at that point you couldn't even understand the fuck he was saying, but you swear you saw tears at the corner of his eyes, and evidently, that was it for the both of you, 'cause he filled you up again with his load in no time while you were crying in your turn on top of him, this orgasm hitting you harder than the first one that had you almost sobbing.

You clashed down on him, with your damped skins in contact, and usually it would disgust you, but this time you noticed it actually didn't bother you at all while Donghyuck was caressing your back. You stayed cuddled like that for a while, just the right amount of time to regain control of your lungs.

"Well, that was a long ass ride." You chuckled breathlessly, playing with his necklace.

"You fucking overstimulated me." He pinched your side, making you yelp and you tried to run from his fingers, but to no avails, 'cause he was caging you with his legs so much stronger than yours.

"What can I say, it's hazards of the job." You said nonchalantly while looking up at him with a smirk on your face. He was glowing, and he was so pretty, dear lord.

"I'm gonna stifle you."

"Is it a threat or a promise?"

"Actually," he began calmly, connecting your mouths on a slow kiss, savoring the saltiness of your tears on both of your lips, licking your bottom one, dancing briefly with your tongue afterwards, and in the meantime both of his hands went down on your ass, kneading and taking his own time with it. He must have really liked it, and you smiled in your shared kiss. "It was a fucking promise." You forgot he had to continue his sentence, and with his radical change in his voice, everything surprised you, 'cause you really thought you were done for the night. But again, you were oh so wrong.

He suddenly flipped you on your stomach, making you land on your knees and elbows on the blankets. But he wasn't happy about it, he pushed your blades down so your chest would be pressed against the mattress, with your ass up. Again, he wasn't content and pushed down on your lumbar spine, making you arch your back and stick out your ass even more. That satisfied him.

Thank god you were an ex artistic gymnast.

"Hyuck wait- I can't do it anymore-" you gasped in fear. He was actually unpredictable, and that was one of the many proofs.

He prodded the thick head of his cock at your entrance, sliding it into you by one or two inches while chuckling fiendishly, "You can, and you will. You will be nothing but my personal cumdump, yeah?"

He shoved his length in you so hard that you jolted forwards, a hiccup already leaving your mouth, feeling stuffed like a thanksgiving turkey. He threw back his head grunting like a wild animal at the feeling of your warm and still wet, from all of his cum, walls around his dick, "I'm gonna fuck you that brattiness off of your pretty face, doll."

Breathing through his teeth he started to build up his own pace, making you jolting forwards with each of his deep thrusts. In that position you could feel him reaching your cervix, hitting your g-spot as he kept going past it every time, causing you to stutter his name numerous times as you felt again your tears rolling down your cheeks, they didn't stop like the first time, they kept flowing and your mascara was soon ruined, staining your skin under your eyes, on your cheeks, and even under your chin as they grouped together. You were a babbling mess under him while he started plunging into you at a inhuman rate, feeling weaker and more alive simultaneously at every bump of his hips against your ass.

"You- You fill me up- so well Hyuck-," your right cheek were pressed against your sheets, not even trying to look at him 'cause you had no strength, you were just mumbling nonsense every now and then, "you're so good for me." Your intent was to say that he was good to you in that moment, not that he was the person good for you in general, but you guessed your mind disagreed, 'cause you didn't even corrected yourself, not wanting to in the slightest.

He landed forcefully a palm on your asscheek, leaving again another print on it, and he kept going like this: a slap that sent you into the next century on each asscheek until you were, in the true sense of the word, sobbing like a newborn, staining your blankets under you with your tears and saliva.

He was chasing his own release at this point, again, and that sent you a shiver along your spine at the anticipation, 'cause that meant he was about to be overstimulated once more, given the fact that you were yes on the verge of literally squirting on him, but it wasn't still your time, and that made you grin like crazy.

Donghyuck noticed you smiling to yourself hoping to go unnoticed, but you failed, and that rose curiosity in him, he didn't pry, but that made him place his left hand around your throat, bringing you up towards his sweaty chest. He was putting pressure on both of the sides of it, cutting off the blood pressure and giving you the feeling of pain and pleasure caused by the dizziness in your head.

"Told you it was a promise, slut, didn't I?" He whispered to your ear, brushing it softly with his plump lips, making your nipples stiffening in pleasure. You tried to nod at his words, wanting to give him an answer, but he fucking laughed at you, nibbling at your lobe while his other hand outstretched to your neglected nip, rolling and flicking it between his thumb and index finger.

Next time he would suck on them like they were his favorite lollipops.

"Answer me properly, doll." His deep voice went straight to your core.

"Y-yes, Hyuck-" you tried to say, gasping next for a little more of air, "you- you told me."

"You're such a good girl." The pet name made you squirm in his arms, your walls clenching around him multiple times as you whined out a plea. You were right there, but he beat you to it.

"Oh fuck- I'm coming-" his pace slightly stuttered "I'm gonna fuck you full of my cum again-" and with that, he emptied himself into you, filling you up deliciously in that position. You almost felt his cock in your throat again while he was still throbbing inside you.

You wouldn't be surprised if you could see his bulge through your stomach.

"You didn't come." He stated while looking at you sternly, "but that's not a problem. Whores like you get rewarded if they behave."

You mewled at his degradation, tightening once again your pussy around his cock, making him hiss and curl up towards you, but that didn't stop him. He kept fucking you setting aside the pain mixed with pleasure he was feeling, whimpering praises and degradations in your ear. You didn't know what to do anymore, your mind was in a hazy state and he hitting your spongy spot didn't help either.

Sniffles and moans were leaving your lips again, "Hyuck- I'm-" you tried to warn him, but the knot in your belly broke again and abruptly, not giving you time to realize it was really squirt, how you supposed earlier, that came out of your body.

That, was a result of how badly he could mess up with your body and mind. And you liked that.

Your incredibly amount of slickness drenched everything around you, including you and a content him. And with that he came again, too overstimulated for his own likes, but he wouldn't have complained if he had the chance to witness that afresh.

"Do that again but on my face please."

"Next thing I'll do is kicking you in your ribs."

He mocked you high-pitching his voice, but he proceeded to pull out of you with his finally softening member, and he dragged you down so you could lay your head on your pillow right in front of him, face-to-face still soaking all wet and breathless, your bodies screaming at you for a shower and a couple of glasses of water.

He plonked his free arms around your torso, bringing you closer to him, your chests and noses now touching softly, you giggled while looking in his eye, finding him already looking at yours with a silly expression on his face, was all that sex enough to make him a different person or what, he was literally calling you a slut seconds earlier. You shook your head, still smiling like a fool, and you pecked at his lips, lingering for a little longer on his lips you were starting to love excessively.

He pecked at your lip this time, biting softly your bottom one before he pulled apart, "Cat got your tongue?" An eyebrow raised at you.

"Shut up before I pee on you." In amusement you rolled your eyes at him, while standing up, heading trembling to your bathroom.

"Actually, you already did tha-"

"Lee Donghyuck!" You screamed from outside your door with your hands in your hair, stressed (not really) again by his antics.

He made a little run to catch up with you, swiftly picking you up much to your surprise, carrying you bridal style.

"Let's take the aftercare in the shower, my love." He grinned down at you while you steadily held onto him.

Your eyes went out of your sockets, making you choke on your own saliva, "your what?!"

"Nothing!"

And your hand tugged on his hair, making him yelp out of pain.

The next morning the ringing of a phone, echoed between the walls of your room.

You were a light sleeper, that was why you heard the phone firstly, but you noticed it wasn't your ringtone, so you quickly kicked in the shin the man that was sleeping next to you in your bed.

You thanked god again, 'cause you remembered to turn the AC on before you and Donghyuck could fall asleep as soon as you came back from the shower last night. And yes, that implied that the guy was sleeping soundly anchored to you, and without the AC on, you surely would have gone to sleep in your backyard.

"Donghyuck." You grunted in a hoarse voice.

No response.

You shoved him with your leg out of your bed, letting him hitting the floor, and he cried out in pain, again.

"Your phone." You simply said to him, and with that you saw him sprinting towards his jeans lying on the floor in front of him, searching frantically for the device in his pockets with his messy hair in all the directions, making you almost laugh at him.

"Hello?" His voice was hoarse too, so he cleared his throat while rubbing his eyes to wake up at least a little bit.

"No, I- Johnny I can explain-" he said hurriedly, "actually, I can explain to you, but don't tell Kun-" it was funny watching him walking around your room in panic, trying to save his own ass with his friends, with his hirers.

"What do you mean he wants to fire me?!" He squealed with his free hand in his hair.

His dick was dangling with each of his movements, making you try to suppress your laugh in your pillow.

"But- he can't! Well no, yes- I know he can-" he wails walking in circle, "but I'm the best among all other employees even if I disappeared from work last night-" he tried to sugarcoat his friend, but it was ineffectual. The call ended, and a cute pout appeared on his face. You sweared you could've kissed it off of him under different circumstances.

"Now I am jobless." He said puffing his cheeks, throwing himself on the bed, precisely on you.

You dramatically gasped for air while patting his head, which it was on your chest, and he was looking up at you, still with that pout on his lips.

"Now all I have left is my girlfriend." Now, you were gasping for air for real, 'cause that took you off guard, but not in a negative way. You actually took a moment to think about the man on top of you: aside from the first meeting went all the way down, you indeed realized that he was the only one, not counting your best friends, that were able to take your bull by the horns. He always had something up his sleeve to make you laugh and flatter at the same time. The way he took care of you, even with small gestures, made you fall for him quickly, plus his fun and witty ass was a relief for your monotonous course of life, so maybe he would put a twist to it.

"Ask me properly Lee Donghyuck." You feigned annoyance at him, when instead, you were more than on a cloud-nine.

"Y/n," he took a moment to elaborate his thoughts, he already screwed up his job, he didn't want to screw up with you too. "Could you give me the honor of calling you my girlfriend?" With his eyes full of hope he kept staring at you, with his heart pounding in his ears. He was about to faint from the anxiety, he could feel it.

"Of course I'll be your girlfriend, you silly dumbass." You never smiled so widely in your whole life, and placing both of your palms on his cheeks, you kissed him like time didn't existed, making his ear flush both for your final response and the breathtaking kiss.

Needless to say that you guys stayed a little longer on your bed, kissing like teenagers do in high school.

"Hey," he tried to say casually after sharing the last kiss.

"Oh no."

"I was thinking-"

"Oh no." You repeated dramatically, like something catastrophic was about to happen.

"Can you not?!"

"I'm sorry, it actually surprises me that you can think," you raised your shoulder, curling his already curly hair in your fingers.

"Now I think I'm just gonna go non-verbal on you."

"I was kidding baby, go ahead," your tone softened.

"Could you hire me, perhaps?" He said with a hopeful and devilish smirk.

Again, you took a moment to think about his offer, and you in fact needed one more hand at work, 'cause you were all alone in there, and sometimes you really wished you had an employee to help you out with the stocks in the back, o simply in the store sharing your tasks with one another. And having your boyfriend working and staying with you everyday? It was like a dream came true.

"Hell, no."

You just were as bad as him.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hi! this is actually my first fic ever, which has been on my mind for far too long, so i thought it was time to publish it. even tho i was (still am*) too insecure to do that fr, my obsession with haechan motivated me to do so ((mj's absolutely one of my favorite artists, so i couldnt help but choose one of his songs as a title for my first hyuck's fic)). Also, my mental health's at it again so i considered writing to distract myself from it at least a little bit, hope you can appreciate my efforts! Plus ik it's pretty basic-, but w time ill def get better at this! An honorable mention n a massive thank u goes to my bae @mrkis , i wouldnt be here without her. I love you a lot dude, im being ffr. Feedbacks n reblogs r highly appreciated! Hoping yall enjoyed ur reading♡.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.

You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.

You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.

As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.

You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.

You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.

The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.

As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.

You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.

You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.

You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress. 

Home, to another man that makes you nervous.

🧹

Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.

You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”

“You get fries?” He growls.

“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”

“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.

“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”

“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”

He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.

It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.

You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.

You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.

You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…

You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.

🧹

The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.

You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry. 

‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’

Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.

You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.

You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.

As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.

You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.

You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.

“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.

You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.

You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.

You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You  hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.

You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?

He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.

When I woke I took the backdoor to my mind And then I spoke I counted all of the good things you are

He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.

You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.

The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.

It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating. 

The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.

Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.

A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.

You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.

It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.

“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.

You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.

You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?

You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.

As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.

“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.

You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.

“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”

You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.

[hoseoksluna]

SMOKE, iv. | myg

pairing: idol!yoongi x smoke!oc (ft. jungkook)

genre: angst, heart-wrenching fluff

word count: 6.5k

summary: everything that hurts must begin to stop at one point. 

pinterest board: smoke / taglist: join / discord: join

warnings: DOMESTIC ABUSE, oc gets triggered a lot in this chapter, dissociation, anxiety, alcohol consumption, a brief mention of physical violence, religion, praying, jk and oc smoke together.

note: hi, my babies. i'm here with another chapter. i really like this chapter a lot and i like where it's heading, so i hope you like it as much as you do. let me know what yout think. sorry, this is a bit short, but i didn't want to drag it out, esp. if everything that needed to get settled did. i love you all soso much, mwah.

When Jungkook appears, uncanvassed, damp and abysmal, in the field of my swimming vision, I have to stop dead in my tracks to see if my inebriated brain isn’t playing tricks on me. 

He’s sat on the half-wet stone of the staircase leading up to the street where I live. My apartment complex is just straight up, a minute away from where he’s waiting for me, and the wheels within my brain cells begin to whirr and turn, reminding me that I tapped on the crescent moon icon on my phone before I absconded to my girl best friend for a heart-to-heart conversation and a new set of nails. Misty-eyed, I recounted to her the monochrome poetry lines that bloomed through last night between me and Yoongi and wilted in my bare, sleep-cloaked hands this morning while she filed down the freshly baked acrylic powder. The moment she heard the deadly words that were spat at me, she flung her rosy, tiger-print file across her station, got up to her feet without a word and came back with a bottle of my favorite pink nectar in even pinker, fancy glass, certainly not meant for wine. 

And I downed each and every refill in one, singular gulp everytime she moved onto the next step and my hand was free. 

And Miyun… as much as she erupted in her idiosyncratic rage, her work on my nails was immaculate and untouched by her vivid lava. Curses and funny remarks, that yanked the weight off my shoulders and wiped it out using her vigor and red-hot magma, shattered the room until I laughed so hard that the alcohol dipped into my system far quicker than usual. She glued on the crosses I had asked for while I chortled, and she shushed me, breaking into a soft, non-obvious laughter that she tried to keep at bay while her hair fanned around her. Cherry-red, long and lustrous, curling on the smooth skin of her arms. The laughter died down and silence replaced it as she laid down the last layer of top coat over her artwork—and I felt a certain inspiration seize me. 

“What if I dyed my hair red, too?” I voiced it out, a seawave of different kinds of co-existing emotions ebbing and flowing in me. Airiness and offense, care and distance. And they were all roped around the memory of Yoongi in me like the roots of flowers in a colorful meadow soil. Vast and expansive, yet delicate and frail. One sweep of the wind’s harsh breath and they tilt—and remain tilted. 

I do, too, despite my efforts. 

Despite my ingrained fight to straighten and my strivings to be unaffected, unagitated and undisturbed by the way I was disrespected by Yoongi. They were all fruitless, however. Barren of my long-exercised resilience against the violence of men, my wariness and vigilance of them only strengthening. 

He took me to the far north side of paradise with his tongue and fingers in the middle of the night. And when the sun rose, he treated me like I dragged him to the deepest of hell and left him there to perish of starvation and thirst.

I should have seen it coming and prepared myself for it, especially when I had decided in my heart to take care of him, take care of the deep-sunk, nameless agony in him that prevented him from coloring our stanzas. But alas… it came to face me too soon, in my gossamer defenselessness.

Yoongi metamorphosed into the vermin that Ji-hoon was. His face faded on top of his while my ex-boyfriend’s body remained intact, broad and fear-instilling. And when Yoongi stood up so quickly, I sailed back, against my will, to the sheer realm of brutality that I had dwelled in, years ago. Yoongi with Ji-hoon’s body, abandoning me after I got myself into trouble. For wearing too much make-up, for having long manicured nails, for dressing a certain way that was impertinent in our relationship. He would leave a bruise for every mistake I made to discipline me, to ascertain that I would learn from it and never do it again. And I did learn after I was depleted of color-correcting concealers, the sinews I would use to raise my hands and tap the cream product in, erasing my foolish mistakes from the eyes of Jungkook, Minyun and my parents. 

I fought for too long during the relationship. For my freedom, for my dignity. And I fought for too long after the relationship to go through it all over again. 

I dreaded being hit when Yoongi stood up from my couch. Flinched when he went around the coffee table past me because I anticipated the swing of his arm with my eyes boring holes into my carpet. I had flexed my muscles to brace myself against the incoming physical pain so hard that I nearly gasped, pathetically, for air when he walked on into the corridor. 

But I still couldn’t look at him. 

Although I knew, rationally, that Ji-hoon wasn’t present, I didn’t let up until he shut the door behind me with a soft click because my body didn’t connect to my clear-headedness. It was caught in a fight or flight response like an ensnared bird. 

And this must’ve been what Minyun was seeing when she contemplated me, paused in the middle of dusting her station clean with her pale-pink kabuki brush. Because she resumed right after once I reciprocated her gaze and curled her lips under her teeth. 

“We can go to Olive Young then, and stop by 7-Eleven after to get some snacks and drinks.” 

She reflected on my wound and didn’t hesitate to cradle my head and bring me to a safe refuge. 

And I didn’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her and hug her until all those oxymoronic emotions, which I felt towards Yoongi, dulled in the smallness of me. 

I let her take the lead. Choose the vibrant, deep cherry tint that would annul my trigger and dye me anew. I sipped on my iced cherry drink for the occasion while she glided the brush along my strands, splattering most of the orange paste on the thick wisp of the symbol of my connection with Jungkook, the only man in my life who never used his manliness against me. I thought about him as she rubbed it in; and I thought about Grookey. Thought about how, in that very moment, I was saying goodbye to the self I possessed while being attached to them. 

And when Minyun washed my hair and curled her round brush through it, the stark contrast to who I was before overwhelmed me so much that I began to weep. 

I couldn’t recognize myself, I didn’t know who that girl in the mirror was. But something told me that she was stronger than who I used to be. And while it felt petrifying to be standing alone in the crook of my past self and my current self, the longer I gaped at myself, the more I adapted to the assurance that she was emanating. 

She wasn’t going to take any shit from any man ever again. Certainly not with darkly, sequoia-kissed hair like that.

Minyun brushed her thumbs under my eyes and shifted me deeper into the refuge by grabbing my shoulders and guiding me to her balcony, where she sat me down on her chair while she crouched in front of me. Sliding a tiny cigarette into her IQOS and taking a puff, she leaned over to the square table and grabbed her pack, nudging a longer, classic cigarette between my chapped lips. 

I never smoked on my own. I would take hits from her slender, pink case of flavored air or steal her cigarettes when I had enough buzz from the alcohol in my veins. Forget about it the following days and weeks that we wouldn’t see each other because I was such a hermit. But I didn’t want to be one anymore—I wanted to spend more time with her from now on. With Jungkook, too. 

“You look so pretty with your new hair,” Minyun said, sweetly, leaning back on her sock-clad heels in her Louis Vuitton slides, wrapping her arm around her knees like I did around my chest last night, and I inhaled her compliment along with the drag of her cigarette. “We’re twins now.” 

I had become such a fragile egg shell that her words multiplied in me as they settled in my lungs, bursting and imbuing me with pigments of confidence. And I beamed through my tears, a light protruding through clouds, as I exhaled the smoke. 

It felt as natural as breathing—to claim her cigarettes and make them a thing of my own. 

In place of Grookey. 

It’s what Jungkook spots first, instead of my hair, once he senses my presence and lifts his head, standing up to his feet, towering over me. And he must’ve been waiting for a long time because his scolding words are flung out first before anything else.

“Where have you been? Do you know how scared I was? I called you up. I rang your doorbell and you wouldn’t answer. All day.” 

I take a long drag just to stabilize myself, gratitude unfolding in my sternum for the way he isn’t manly. 

He’s merely caring. 

Hovering above me, moving his arms in my proximity, features stern in his soft manner, and yet I’m not threatened by my fear because I know him, because I trust him. Trust that everything about him is securely soft and boy-like, round and endearing—even when he raises his voice a little at me. 

Minjun and I took another bottle of rosé to her balcony that we finished by passing it to each other and smoking like there was no tomorrow, so the liters of the nectar that flit in my bloodstream elevate how I see him and my body is naturally inclined to do something I normally wouldn’t do. 

And much to Jungkook’s surprise and a little bit to his dismay, I listen to that hushed tone of my heart and obey it—discovering that it is an aid and nothing else. 

“Since when do you—” 

I silence his stupid, yet valid question by wrapping my arms around his neck, careful not to nip his skin with the hot prickle of the cigarette. Its orange tip envelops us in a soft glow in the middle of the darkening evening, the smoke surrounding us like a protection ring. It takes three beats of my heart—which in reality must be his and surely not mine considering the numbness that has descended, fully, in me—for his arms to move and swathe me in complete safety. 

He’s rescuing me, like Minyun did. Bouncing off of her and finishing the job, without knowing a thing about it. 

We become one, singular form of a penumbra, dressed as we are in this unlit shade. Jungkook with his cargos and baggy sweatshirt; me with my tracksuit that’s too big for me. His neck is cold and I scatter a little bit of my warmth upon that skin, regretful that he waited for me this long because of my foolish forgetfulness. 

My dearest boy best friend. 

I squeeze him harder and Jungkook buries his nose in my shoulder, fisting the fabric of my hoodie on my back. 

And then, he sniffs my hair. Makes a Korean sound of discovery and surprise. Pulls back just to look at me with narrowed, inspecting eyes. Drags me to the nearest street lamp—and I watch his eyelids grow to their original, bulbous size. 

Roundie. 

He has noticed my hair, at last. 

Fluffs it and completely destroys the impeccable blowout that Minyun gave me. 

“What the fuck, Jungkook?” I grumble, pushing his hand away, but, like my hoodie, he fists both of my wrists in one hand and sinks the other one into my length, following the diligent curve that Minyun created. 

I huff, and the sound is deadened by the devastating words he utters, disappearing into the prickling coldness of the air. 

“What did he say to you that made you do this?”

I dwell in silence, my numbed emotions leaden, dented and yet sharp enough that I feel their resurfacing pain. 

I look away, untangling my wrists from his hold. Jungkook unclenches his fist, but the ash from my cigarette lands on the back of his hand. I gasp, quick to brush it away, however he’s quicker. Doesn’t make a sound in response. Shakes his hand and steals my cigarette, puffing on it. 

My mouth parts. Shock strangles me. 

He smokes? 

Jungkook’s seriousness droops as he chuckles, dryly, at my reaction. He takes a step back, slides a hand in the pocket of his pants, coalesces into the shadows of the early blooming night. 

“I didn’t know you smoked either,” he says, smiling in that lopsided way of his, a large dent in his cheek. And it feels as though I’m getting to know my best friend for the first time. What else is he hiding? What does he do, in utmost normalcy, when he’s not with me? 

He dips his chin to look at the cigarette before he flicks his thumb across its ivory butt. The ashy particles fly to the rocky ground in tandem with his smile. And his mind travels back to this morning’s misfortune, as rapid as a rocket shooting up beyond the clouds. 

“I’m not giving this to you until you tell me what he said. The last time you did something to your hair like this was when you left that good-for-nothing son of a bitch.” 

A fleck of memory appears before my eyes. Me dousing my hair in black dye with my own hands while Jungkook stood by; him putting my star clips in my no longer virgin strands to distract my tears, me sliding the same ones into his, making a middle part and laughing until my stomach hurt. He had healed me by just being with me, not expecting words, not expecting any explanations. 

Him asking me for them has a great meaning, a certain hastiness that I know full well has a stabbing pain, and I feel his fear, instead of mine. Understand, all of a sudden, why he waited for so long.

And I put him first, just so that emotion unclenches its fist from him. Nod my head to let him know that I’ll tell him, bare my heart for him. 

I walk backwards and sit down on the stony stairs. Jungkook joins me, right beside me. Takes a long drag of the cigarette as if to prepare himself for what I’m about to share with him—and I need the same smoky courage. I take it from him, puff on it and give it back to him. He gives me a gentle smile and I recognize the reason behind it.

A new form of bonding settles between us. 

I reciprocate the smile and gather my words in the brief silence. The wind helps me as it breezes through my hair, fondles my face ever so gently and when I lift my chin at its attention, my eyes stumble across the full moon. 

I breathe in its pristine energy. Let my lungs be full of its beams—and let it cleanse me, thoroughly. 

Jungkook’s patience helps me, too, as he quietly finishes the cigarette, stubbing it out on the step. Ready to listen. 

And so I begin. 

“I invited him upstairs because I wanted to,” I start and realize that I have to come forth with the truth. Deem that he deserves to know. I look inward, quickly, and try to detect any obstacles in me—but I find myself empty, cleansed, a dried fountain with no drops of water, yet I am free. With the alcohol still trickling in my bloodstream. “I didn’t feel sick. That was a lie.” I flick my eyes to his reaction, catch him widening his eyes and parting his mouth and I decide it’s time for another cigarette. I pull one for him and myself, lighting it up for the both of us. “I didn’t want you to know that I got triggered. I’m sorry for that.” 

Jungkook blows the smoke in the other direction, away from my face. He furrows his brows in pity as he leans his elbows on his outstretched knees. 

I expect him to yell at me… but he does the exact opposite, soothing me down to the marrow of my bone. 

“Triggered? How?” he asks, his voice so muted that I barely hear it, lips pursed in that eternal pout of his and mine mirror it, naturally. I appreciate his gentleness so much that I lean the side of my head against his shoulder. And he leans his against the top of mine. 

“I guess I wanted to be alone when I left the room and I found Hobi at the end of the hall. I sat with him for a little while and when he started talking, I realized he was drunk and my body gave up on me. I dissociated like I used to after the breakup. I thought I was better, that I healed from it, but it’s been a long since I was in the company of men, you know? I didn’t want to disappoint you, especially when I’d promised you that it wasn’t happening to me anymore.” 

I hear him take a strong puff and I reflect him, doing the same. Then, he sighs and extends his legs, his back rounding forward. I watch the smoke make patterns in the night-tinged air and I breathe differently, now that I’ve pulled the skeleton out of the closet. And even though my emotions are numb, my softness deepens when Jungkook takes the bony creature into his arms and begins to dance with it. 

“You could never disappoint me,” he whispers, his words the music for the dance, and I wrap my fingers around his clothed forearm, just holding him there, needing it. “You should’ve told me. Did you think I would tell you off for it? Of course not, you silly goose.” 

I chortle, and the smoke comes out in staccatos that are guided by my tender laughter. And he melts it with his following words. 

“How can I help you? Should I get you a therapist? I don’t want you to take meds for it…” he trails off, clicking his tongue and fishing out his phone from his pocket. His fingers move on the keyboard of his screen and the letters I read fracture my heart and glue it back together all the same. “Grounding techniques. Breathing slowly while counting. Different sounds, walking barefoot, blanket, ice cube or cold water—”

My mouth opens before my brain registers what my weakened heart longs to say. 

“Yoongi splashed cold water on my face and neck and that brought me back,” I spew out, tiny tears lining my vision at the memory, at the feel of his cold, solid hands, at the sight of his wide, fearful eyes that relaxed when he realized that I was back in the present times. “He saved me.” 

I blink them away; I smoke them away. 

Jungkook sucks in a breath, clicking on an article about dissociation and scrolling down. “Yoongi and I will be your therapists, then. For free.” 

I look away and withdraw from him, twiddling with my fingers. My heart enlarges, yearns for it—yearns to create a link to his beyond the physical bound we have, reach out for him like a child for its father, but my fear of being triggered again, of being afflicted by his pain slaps its arms away from him. 

It’s not meant to be—Yoongi is not the one for me because if he were, there wouldn’t be any barrier between us. And with that knowledge, my obsession with him, slowly and painfully, dissipates, leaving my frailty and my willingness to help him, if he’d ever need me, in the hands of God. 

But knowing the faces of manliness and ego, Yoongi won’t allow himself to be helped by me. And that bruises me more than the words he flung at me.  

Jungkook senses my absence more vividly than I want him to, and his head swivels in my direction, the article momentarily forgotten. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, prodding me, and it’s me who sighs this time. 

I take the last drag and gaze at the moon as I speak. “Yoongi can’t help me when he needs help himself.” 

The yellowish face of the bulbous planet nods at me and I feel, ever so slightly, at ease, leaning my elbows back on the steps. That is until a lump forms in my throat and, inertly, I ask the feminine luna for her strength, for her resilience, and I ask her to help me become my new self that resembles her so much. 

Jungkook locks his phone and stares at me. “What happened this morning?” 

And perhaps she does nurture me with what I need through her radiance after all because I don’t hesitate to tell him. 

“I wore lingerie to bed that was see-through and when I looked for him and found him crying on my couch, he told me, ‘can you, please, put something fucking on?’ and left,” I unravel, violently, mimicking Yoongi’s coarse morning voice, and Jungkook scoffs, averting his gaze. He sucks hard on the last of his cigarette before throwing it away with the same nerve, shaking his head as he thinks about those poisonous words. Validates me, like Minyun did. 

It takes several heartbeats and several more moonbeams puncturing my sternum before he turns back to me. 

“Check your phone.” 

A wrinkle between my brows. “Why?” 

“Just do it.” 

Without understanding why he wants me to do that, I comply. I pull out my phone from my purse, the light from the screen bathing me in stark blue. Jungkook chews on his bottom lip as he watches me read my notifications from him, Minyun and Netflix. And when I say nothing, he tilts his head and reads them on his own, only to groan and place it in his hands. 

Then, he stares off into the distance. 

“What?”

He takes my hand and drags me to my feet. “Come on.” 

I yelp and Jungkook yanks me to the patch of grass by the street lamp, kneeling by the gravel. And I can’t speak as he builds a praying altar of rocks, leaves and sticks. I can’t speak when he holds it in place and makes sure it doesn’t collapse, as small and sturdy as it is. And I can’t speak when he adorns it with an abandoned, pink flower petal that he finds nearby. Places it on the top of the last stone, against the flesh of the damp, green leaf that is propped by a petite rock. 

And in my silence, once he’s done, he tugs my hand down, sinking me to my knees. Sits back on his folded legs and presses his palms together. 

“God, I know that you know I don’t believe in you. My dad probably talks to you a lot about me, so I’m sure you know who I am. I don’t come to you because of me, though. I come to you right now because my friends need you,” Jungkook prays, his voice mellow and subdued, meant for my ears and the ears of God that I myself believe in, but don’t have a relationship with. I settle down into my respect for his bravery and kindness, closing my eyes, and I feel him enveloping his fingers around mine on my lap. My heart thumps and my other hand finds the way to it—I pin my palm to the left side of my chest, cradling those full-blooded strikes, willing the corners of my mouth not to quiver. “My dad says you know everything and right now I really hope that you know what Yoongi went through. I ask you, sincerely, to give him strength to be a better person. To make sure his feet don’t walk backwards but forward with the girl beside me. I also ask you to help her to not dissociate anymore, help her not remember that son of a bitch, sorry—that guy that broke her. And altogether, I ask you to heal them both. Also, make sure Yoongi mans up a little and texts her like I wanted. Or just do something, anything. Give him ideas. Make his balls grow or whatever. Thank you. Sorry for all I did. Amen.” 

The tears fall and I can’t halt them, nor do I want to. Lightness floods my chest, my mind, spreads all over my bones, and I breathe out in hiccups. I agree with his prayer by whispering the same ending word and when I glance at Jungkook, I see him meditating, privately, on something on his own. 

It inspires me, comforts me and impassions me to do the same. 

I flutter my eyes closed and quieten my breathing. 

Dear God, if I was wrong and this is for me, allow me to take care of Yoongi. Help us find a way towards each other and cleanse my heart from all the pain. 

And then the words spill, my prayer prolonging, and I discern that they don’t root from me, bathed in the glimmer of the moon as they are. 

I forgive him and I’m giving him another chance. Give us the opportunity to better our actions and communicate our pains. Give us the strength to do so. Give us the words. Give us peace of mind and clarity. Thank you. Amen. 

My tears have dried by the time I’m finished with my internal prayer. Jungkook has patiently waited the whole time, holding my hand, and he gives me the lovingest, most wholesome smile I’ve ever received in my life when I face him. He kisses my knuckles and I feel, strongly, that it seals our prayers. 

Helping me stand, it’s him who hugs me this time around. I bury my face in his chest, fisting the back of his sweatshirt like he did to me when I arrived. We remain like this, underneath the lenitive moonlight and the merciful eye of God that I sense upon us. And I know, in the abyss of my weakened heart, that I shall never forget about this moment. 

“Did you also feel that lightness in your chest?” Jungkook asks onto my hair, and I nod, too lost in my brimming, alive emotions—no longer numb, but erupting in tender colors—to answer. Love, thankfulness, delicate joy and that persisting lightness. 

Grabbing my shoulders, he breaks the hug and grins down at me. He glows underneath that street lamp, a pure whiteness lining his form, the tiny twinkling freckles of stars scattering upon his skin and I love him. 

I love my best friend. 

And the more I look at him, the more I’m reminded of the way I put the star clips in his hair and I think it would only be right if he were to wear them right now. 

I link my arm around his. 

“Let’s go inside.” 

The moonlight shone upon our way, ascertaining that we didn’t stumble. Reached a standstill and formed a ring around us when we stopped by the door to my apartment building and had another cigarette together, this time another shared one because I felt as though I had inhaled too much smoke throughout the day. 

The stars poked at my back in our silence, encouraging me to break it, and I did—once it was my turn to puff. I thanked him, earnestly, for the prayer, showed him my nails embellished with little silver crosses, ones he gaped at with utmost fascination before it all spurred something in him enough for him to share with me what went down earlier in the morning after Yoongi left my apartment. 

Crestfallen Yoongi, drenched from the rain, murky, cloud-bearing; the very one I know. Jungkook had to, essentially, extricate him from the force of his innermost downpour, and I waded through the torrent with each information he provided me. 

He was profoundly regretful and made a fool out of himself by choking at the sound of my name—something that made my cheeks ignite with coy flattery and my fingertips to tingle. The knowledge that he rued his actions wove through my prayer and quelled me, my heart and my mind, until there was no ounce of ache that bothered me. 

I entered a state of sobriety, plopping down onto my couch with a small basket of hair ties and clips. Jungkook wasn’t really cognizant of what I was doing as he focused on telling the story, describing, in his teasing manner, the way Yoongi looked like while he spoke of me. The way his cheeks flushed and light burst in his eyes. He was so preoccupied with the task that he didn’t flinch when I brushed his hair with my Kuromi tangle teezer, nor when I put up his hair in two pigtail buns and secured them with matching, violet Kuromi hair ties. 

His hair felt brittle in my fingers from all the bleach the stylist used on his hair. Briefly, I remembered the way he specifically asked her if there was a drugstore alternative to the professional dye and he went to buy it for me that very day and we splattered it on together, with him choosing the strand, of course. I made a mental note to talk about his hair with him later. 

I grew hot when he shifted to the part, where he read to him the message I sent for him. I had cleaned the whole apartment in effort to rid myself of the residue of my trigger, but my care for him remained because I understood where he came from. What I hadn’t known was that after listening to my heart and typing out the message, I would get tormented by my mind so viciously that I had to seek my girl best friend. My care for him sank to the bottom of me and the offense I felt resurfaced, swallowing me whole. 

To know, in the present time, that Yoongi thought it too good to be true, grew smaller when Jungkook began to tell him off, washes it all out and I am a brand new canvas. 

I take off my hoodie, aflame. 

“He really thought about what I said to him and he even put your number in his phone. I visibly saw him opening a new text message and typing something,” Jungkook says, exasperated, and I have to chuckle to myself—he looks so damn adorable with the two minty buns, but he’s still missing those clips. I search for them in my basket, reveling in that fire of his, which his words are permeated with, the heat stifling me. “I thought he sent it to you. I didn’t see him do it because I got a call from Namjoon, asking where we were. We had a meeting right after—and that’s also something I need to talk to you about.” 

My ears perk up and I freeze with the clips in my hands. 

The smile Jungkook gives me this time is cheerless. 

The sweat that coats me morphs into a layer of iciness. 

“We’re going on tour abroad next month,” he imparts and my heart closes. I disintegrate, the clips falling out of my hands. And the stars blanketing the heavens outside must do the same, plummeting to the ground, conjointly, with me. “We were supposed to have another concert tonight, a secret one that would be made into a docuseries, but then America fucking called.” 

That means no hanging out with Jungkook, no star clips; no seeing Yoongi and leaving things as they are—unfinished and still aching on his part. 

And that leaves me alone with my thoughts. 

I pout, my heart dead silent. 

“When will you be back?” 

Jungkook gathers the fallen clips and sets them down upon my open, vulnerable palms. Manages to warm them up in that brief exchange. 

“There aren’t many tour dates. I’ll be back before—”

My phone pings in the kitchen. 

And before I can breathe, Jungkook scurries to his feet and flees. 

Grabs my phone and holds it in front of my face, so the detector can unlock what the notification hides. And once it does and his eyes sweep over the lettering multiple times, he squeals. Springs. Beams like the warmest star he is, personified firelight. And I’m more happy that he’s happy than I’m happy about the fact Yoongi has done something. 

For me. 

Jungkook slides the phone into my clammy hand and I let out a little breath. Instagram has notified me that a certain person that goes by the name agustd liked my post. I smirk, cupping my face, while I click on the notification to see what exactly he liked. Jungkook sits beside me and looks over, laughing, vehemently, through his nose before he starts clapping. 

My stomach jumps, stirring my butterflies awake. 

I’m wearing a knitted set in the picture, nearly pellucid with how stretched out and purposefully ripped the fabric is, and I’m sat on my vanity table in my room with my arched back facing the mirror, my long black hair obscuring most of the sheerness of my spine. 

Is that a truce? Liking a picture where I’m wearing something so akin to the slip that broke us this morning? If he did, then that’s an intelligent move in the chessboard of all toxicity. 

And I like it. 

I blush, profusely. But then another notification rings through my living room and Jungkook stills beside me. We share a look, both of our mouths parted, before he steals my phone, though I slap his back and retrieve it from his grasp, the shifting causing the message to get opened. 

I run a hand down my face. “You clicked on it and now he can see I’ve read it, Jungkook.” 

He merely laughs. “So what? Read it.” 

I groan, tipping my chin, focusing my gaze on the letters, and my heart thrashes in my ribcage. And their meaning propels it to fly on the wings of my butterflies. 

The letters tremble in tandem with my hand as I read them. 

“I’m sorry for my behavior this morning, you didn’t deserve that. I hope you allow me to make it up to you as best as I can. Car drive tomorrow at 8 PM? Food’s on me, you just bring your playlist, moon kitty. And your sneakers. Yoongi. Jungkook gave me your number.” 

My heart stops mid-flight. And I don’t see Jungkook’s eyes abounding in the glow of the stars. Neither do I hear his laughter and his praises for Yoongi because I walk backwards into myself. 

Bring your sneakers. 

I see myself getting hit for wearing heels. I don’t feel the pain, but I have a glimpse of the bruise forming on my cheek, a patch of red and purple staining me for weeks only because I wanted to feel pretty and feminine on our date night. And before Jungkook’s voice can get to me, the echo of Ji-hoon’s command fans out in me. 

You won’t dress like a slut when you’re with me. Take them off. That dress, too. And wear your sneakers. 

I was forced to wear jeans and Nike’s to a fancy restaurant while he sported nice pants and a polo. And much to his dismay, and later to mine as well, I still received stares and smiles. From men and women alike. 

The memory splinters at the sound of Jungkook’s voice. And I perceive that it’s just that. 

A memory. 

I didn’t dissociate. 

And vulnerability clutches me so tightly that I shrivel and don’t think before I fold myself into Jungkook, hugging him until the memory completely evaporates. 

Jungkook pets my head as I bury it deeper into his chest. “What’s wrong?” 

“Just a memory,” I heave, blinking rapidly, and Jungkook holds me to him, sifting his fingers through my hair. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, continuing with the movement that intersperses mollification all over my being, and I nod. 

As long as I have my best friend, I will be okay. 

“It happened this morning, too,” I admit, unafraid, and Jungkook stills for a moment. “When Yoongi got up from this couch, I thought I was gonna get hit again. And now when I read that he wants me to wear sneakers, I remembered the way Ji-hoon hit me because I wore heels that one time. But it wasn’t so bad. I didn’t dissociate. Your prayer helped.” 

Jungkook curls around me and holds me tighter, putting me back together, and I let him. 

I let him because there’s nothing else for me to do. 

There’s no one else for me. 

“He’s not here anymore. He’s not in your life. I broke his leg, remember? He can’t walk back into your life.” 

It’s the only memory, where he’s present, that brings me pleasure: Jungkook finding out I was a victim of domestic abuse and chasing him all over the city until he yanked him by the back of his shirt and beat him until he was unrecognizable. He broke his leg by purposefully driving over it with his motorcycle upon leaving, considering the deed done. 

“Every time your bad memories come back to haunt you, remember this one,” Jungkook advises and I pleat his words, stuffing them somewhere inside my sternum, where I can return to them and remember them like he said. Use them as a weapon.

Something tells me that now I shall need it more than I ever have before.

“Yoongi isn’t like him, I promise,” he continues, seeping his boyish warmth into my skin as he cups my face and makes me look at him. I feel as though I have run a marathon with the way I breathe spasmodically and Jungkook sees me, composes me by leading me to take deep breaths that subdue my nerves. “I regretted letting him take you home but for a far different reason. Underneath all that pain is a good person. A romantic that has lost his hope, but if there’s anything I can depend on, it’s the fact that Yoongi will find what he’s lost. And he’s halfway there. If he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have texted you.” 

I ponder his words, my heart collecting all those stars that have plummeted from the heavens, and, internally, I use their light to help me comprehend the deeper meaning behind his words. A romantic that has lost his hope. I wonder what meadow of agony he walked through—and I wonder how much it would devastate me if I ever were permitted to place my bare feet upon his footprints on that flowery soil. 

“You can trust him because I trust him.”

I slide the star clips beneath the space buns I twisted his hair in and I nod. 

“Let’s text him back.” 

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah,@fennecnco, @lil-kpopstan, @euphoricmyth, @jungkoock, @cinmmongirl, @hobiberrystuff, @kam9404, @fr0ggieth1nk.

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

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[sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine]

Hide-n-Seek

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x Reader Word Count: 3.9 K CW: 18+, minors DNI. (spoilers) fake weapons, tight spaces, alcohol consumption, minor character minor injury, some steaminess, but no smut (in this part). {Author Commentary: Here's my (belated) Halloween party fic! I hope it can offer a pleasant distraction. Here's an 80s/90's music playlist I listened to, to give the party vibes. I still ended up writing myself into a part two, oops. I hope you all find this brief trip (back) in the closet enjoyable. (tell me you laughed.)}

“Because the 80s just understood horror. The 80s were the HIGHT of horror-”

“Josh might argue that with you, but I see the vision…”

You stood next to your friend at her kitchen island, looking out at the gaudy Halloween decor expertly placed in every corner, and along every wall. The atmosphere was made complete by a series of alternating colored lights, and scattered light-up decorations, beaming through the generally dark apartment, -and a booming 80s rock/ballad playlist. It really did feel like a movie.

Because you’d had work that day, you’d arrived a bit later than some, but not the majority. Some friends had arrived early to set up, and others to help each other finish assembling their costumes. The energy was immaculate as you’d strutted in in your costume. The lights were already down, the music loud, and your friends had turned from pouring their drinks in the kitchen to greet you jovially, and squeal in support as you gave a twirl.

A ‘Huntress’ was the title you’d officially given your costume, though it wasn’t based on a particular franchise character, just a high fantasy concept you liked. You’d landed on a long, dark green dress, with high, high slits up both thighs, a fitted bodice, and draped sleeves that hung around your arms in a goddess-esque fashion leaving your shoulders bare. Of course, the key accessory was a faux gold archer’s bow that you wore over your shoulder, cross-body style, and a quiver of arrows ‘-a clever disguise for a purse-’ , all complimented by your smokey metallic eyeshadow, delicate gold hair jewelry, and body chains. You loved Halloween, and your friends knew to expect nothing less than an all-out costume. 

You’d joined them in the kitchen to secure your first drink of the night. As you were laughing along and adding a silly eyeball candy and gummy worm garnish to your drink. Another gaggle of people exited the bathroom down the hall. Amid the mixed chatter you heard Jake’s distinctive soft rasp, laughing in mock distress “no, really- I think it’s enough- please let me go free- this outfit doesn’t even require makeup-” and a responding laugh “Yeah, but of all the days to wear makeup- how could you deny me??” Your other friend, a big makeup enthusiast, and nothing short of an artist, followed him down the hall, giving him a playful shove. 

The group all ended up in the kitchen, to refresh their drinks. “Oh yay!!” they welcomed your new presence, and you mutually geeked over each others’ costumes. “You two!” The host jokingly huffed, gesturing with her raised glass between you and Jake, who was in the corner, filling a flask he’d pulled from his pocket, avoiding the swarm of welcomes, “Leave it to you two to go the hardest, in your own fucking direction.” You and Jake took in each other’s costumes, laughing along. They were certainly of a similar genre, and in sharp contrast to the general decor. 

His knight costume consisted of a shiny silver gorget and pauldrons, adorning his chest and shoulders, and a chainmail mesh top that barely covered his midriff. One of his beloved swords was secured by a leather belt on top of his dark, drapey, high-waisted trousers which were cuffed just over his signature boots. Your eyes made their way back up, smirking again at his midriff, before properly seeing his eyes. They had the faintest smudge of charcoal grey concentrated around his water line, expertly blended out by your friend to be almost unnoticeable, blending seamlessly to the faintest shift of iridescence around his eyes and the highlights of his face. It didn’t even register as makeup, alongside his already distinguished features, and long half-waved hair, it simply enhanced his mystical aura, making him look like a character from a fantasy game. 

He grinned after giving you another once over while screwing the top on his flask and slipping it in his pocket.

“Damn, maybe I should’ve let her go full smokey eye on me, if im up against you” He made his way around the kitchen island to properly greet you in a half-hug, careful not to spill the drink in your hand. 

“Hmm, are you sure you’d want to compete with me?” You narrowed your eyes in a playfully challenging way.

His smirk twisted to the side before he deftly slipped your drink from your hand and took a sip. 

“Mm. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

He returned the drink to you, drying his mustache with his free hand before giving your arm a final squeeze with the other and following the crowd to the living room. You laughed and shook your head, turning back to your friend who was hosting. 

“Damn, he’s really dialed up to 11 tonight.” You chuckled, glancing back towards him before making your way to the buffet covered with snacks. Your friend just raised her eyebrows and smirked at your turned back. You stocked up a little plate of snacks before the two of you went to find a comfy seat among your friends in the living room as the apartment filled with people.

Several hours, and many rounds of drinks later, you were sat in an armchair, almost falling over the arm in an enthused conversation with a friend of a friend you had recently bonded with over an underrated album preference ‘-and a decent level of tipsyness.’

You paused as you heard a group of people enthusiastically cheering. You looked up at the group as the host stepped toward the middle of the living room.

“Ok, party people! Who’s ready… for Hide-n-Seek?”

Normally getting a group of adults to play Hide-n-Seek would be a hard sell, but the energy in the room was just right, and loud cheers could be heard from around the apartment. The host announced she’d be seeking first, and that would be starting “riiiigghhhhht.. Now.” with a clap of her hands and som gleeful shrieks, people began darting around. The apartment was nice, thanks to her success in the arts. It had multiple floors, and even guest rooms, perfect for a game like this. You giggled to yourself after waving to the person you’d been talking to and scurrying off to find a spot. You made your way upstairs, as many others had. At the third and final landing, facing down the hallway of the smaller third floor, you saw a double-door closet but walked right by it. ‘Wayyy too obvious.’

You passed a bathroom and heard some muffled giggling. You made your way to the spare bedroom at the end of the hall. You opened it and instantly heard a yelp. You quickly stepped back into the hall, slammed the door closed in front of you, sparing the blur of two people, that had apparently been making out in the room. You backed away from the door, giggling and covering your reddening face. “So sorry!”, you called before making your way back down the hall. The seeker’s countdown was already nearly over, causing you to quickly settle for the closet.

You suddenly realized your drink was still on the coffee table in the living room. However, ywour thoughts of sneaking down to get it were cut short. You heard footsteps climbing the stairs, and you instantly felt crestfallen, knowing it was likely the seeker, and of course, if they came to this floor they’d be checking the closet first. You found yourself holding your breath as the footsteps approached. One of the doors creaked open, and you were ready to let out a defeated groan when a finger pressed softly to your lips. Your eyes widened as a grinning Jake stepped in. He effectively backed you into the other half of the closet as he hastily pulled the door closed behind him. Your brow creased in annoyance as you realized what was happening. You pulled his hand away, removing his shushing finger from your lips as you whispered indignantly; 

“Jake, this is my hiding spot.”

“Yeah I’m kinda surprised by that, actually, it seems kinda too obvious to be your first choice…”, he whispered, still grinning at you. You rolled your eyes, “And what? Were you too busy batting your eyelashes at someone to secure a better spot?” you snarked back at him. His eyes narrowed curiously, his smirk remaining.

“I was gonna ask what could’ve possibly stopped you from getting a good spot, but now I’m much more curious about that little statement… Why does the thought of me flirting with someone ruffle your feathers so much?”

Your face reddened, thankfully he couldn’t see it in this lighting, right? You didn’t want to validate his implication with a response. 

“Did you at least fill your flask before coming to commandeer my hiding spot?”

He smiled at you devilishly, reaching into his pants pocket and pulling it out. He unscrewed the top before handing it to you.

“How chivalrous” You took a sip, your eyes taking him in before meeting his smirk with a challenging one. “Tell me, was it customary for knights to wear eyeliner?”

“Hazards of the side gig,” he joked, “something of a habit I picked up on the last tour… and a lot of warriors historically wore face markings and stuff…” 

He unsheathed his prop sword, resting the dulled tip on the floor, striking a knightly pose; chin held high, his lips pursed slightly in the same way they often did when he was playing, and his chest puffed exaggeratedly. You giggled slightly, covering your own mouth to stifle it.

He smiled down at you, satisfied that he’d made you laugh. He let his eyes run down you slowly in the dim light. 

“And for …Archers…?” 

You were about to correct him but you inhaled abruptly as he skimmed the cool flat side of the blade along the exposed side of your upper thigh.

“Is this… ‘customary’?” His voice was still low and soft as his eyes trailed the tip of the blade.

You swallowed, looking down at the blade. His eyes flitted to yours. “It’s a prop sword, it’s not sharp, you can touch it.” He assured you. You hadn’t been worried about that, but still, the invitation intrigued you. You reached down and lifted the the tip of the sword, experimentally pressing the pad of your thumb to the thin, but inevitably dull edge.

“Hmh.”

You lifted it to your eye line, inspecting the dulled tip before pressing the pad of your thumb over it. 

“Careful now…” His voice was hushed and deep. His warm hand rested over yours, gently prying your fingers off the blade. He chuckled at you as his other hand sheathed his sword. You retrieved your hand, clearing your throat as you adjusted the string of your bow. 

“Just had to verify, I do have the superior weapon.” You shrugged one shoulder matter-of-factly.

“Pardon?” He raised an eyebrow at you, tilting his head in a challenging manner. 

You smirked, deciding to push it. “Not just in prop form,either. Swords have no range, they’re only good if you want to walk right up to your opponent.” 

“And what’s that bow gonna do for you when there’s someone right in front of you?” 

The two of you had grown closer, “Hmh, I don’t know, I’m pretty good with my hands. …And legs.” Your leg swung around to playfully hook the back of your calf around his. To your surprise his warm, calloused hand caught your leg under the knee, hiking it up so your leg hooked around his hip. The silky fabric of your skirt slid back, parting fully and leaving your entire upper thigh exposed. You’d reached for him as your balance wavered. One of your hands had grasped the back of his neck, the other landing on his waist -half of your palm met the fine chainmail, half met his warm, soft skin. He was already holding you steady though. His other arm had wrapped around you, holding the small of your back. 

“Jake- ‽” you gasped in surprise.

Your faces are now inches apart. The sound of each other's breaths become the only audible thing. A streak of golden orange light from between the double doors illuminated a segment of his face; a fanned dark eyelash, a golden streak in his deep brown iris, the peak in the bridge of his nose, and the seemingly permanent upward curl in the corner of his full lips.

“fuck-” it escaped you in a hushed exhale, though not for entirely the same reason you'd previously been whispering. Jake's head tilted ever so slightly as he took in your reaction. You gathered your wits before he could open his mouth to say anything.

“Jake. We’d be heard.” -‘Certainly not a circumstance you'd ever thought you'd have to voice that sentiment to someone.’

His smile widened, as you confirmed what you’d been considering. He pivoted smoothly till your back was pressed against the back wall of the surprisingly shallow closet. As he leaned in to speak close to your ear the side of his face brushed yours, so, so, tantalizingly.

“You don’t think you could stay quiet? Is that all you’re worried about?”

As he spoke lowly, his thumb began trailing back and forth across your thigh. A suppressed but undeniably desperate whine sounded from you. 

“If I recall,” his hand had started gliding up the back of your thigh, “you’re particularly competitive…” his grip tightened slightly, gripping the fullest part of your thigh, “and you love a challenge…”

His words trailed off as he inhaled your scent and slowly exhaled, his warm breath cascading down your neck. Your hand that had held the back of his neck now found his jaw. You urgently lifted his head so you could finally press your lips to his. God, his lips were like nirvana, full and soft, and fervently melding with yours as he kissed you.

Your hand gripped his side, pressing the chainmail into his skin momentarily before you adjusted your grip to sink your nails into the lush curve of his waist unobstructed. He hummed against your lips as his hips pressed harder into yours. Your bow pressed sharply into your upper back but didn’t register as a problem. His hand that was still resting on your lower back kept it from the wall, furthering the sweet pressure of his hips against yours.

You’d just pulled your lips from his to take a desperate breath when suddenly a tumbling crash and an obscene exclamation came from the stairs.

You both jumped apart as your heads whipped around. By the sound of it, someone had fallen down the top flight of stairs. Instinctively you both stepped through the doors to go help your friend. As you peered down the stairs, the bathroom and bedroom doors down the hall both opened and your friends poured out of their hiding spots to see what had happened.

You and Jake had made your way to the landing, urgently attempting to assist your friend who’d landed on the second floor. A gaggle of people had gathered around as they’d made their way up and down the respective staircases to the landing. Several voices called out asking what had happened, and if everyone was ok. Someone had paused the music so you called out “It’s ok, we’ve got her.” Your friend had tried waving you off saying it wasn’t bad, that she’d just slipped on a portion of the string lights that were woven between the balusters. You refused, asserting that you were going to get her some ice as soon as she got downstairs. After she’d stood up and waivered from a clear pain in her ankle, Jake eventually convinced her to let him help her down the stairs.

You watched him shift his belt so his sword was out of the way and he stooped to lift her -her arm around his shoulder, and her legs draped across his arm. He made his way slowly and steadily down the stairs. The colored lights glinted off the armor still adorning his shoulders, and his hair that fluttered behind him as he descended. ‘He really is a knight in shining armor…’. You snapped back to reality as you all got to the ground floor and Jake swiftly turned towards the couch. You headed to the kitchen and got a soft ice pack before hurrying back to the living room. Jake had set her on the couch and she was chatting and giggling with the people gathering around.

The crowd parted for you and gradually people dispersed to other areas of the room as the music started up again and the party resumed. You knelt by the couch, gingerly resting the pack on her ankle. You looked at her and shook your head with a light laugh. “Do you have an ace bandage or something? This is gonna need some compression unless you want your ankle to swell up. ” She sighed exasperatedly, not one to accept doting. “Yeah, it’s in the bathroom cabinet.” You glanced over your shoulder at Jake, who’d stepped aside for you to apply the ice pack. “Can you grab it? And an aspirin or aleve or something.” Jake nodded and headed off.

When you looked back at your friend her eyes were locked on you. Knowingly. She broke out into giggles as you looked around curiously.

“You know… I wouldn’t judge if the two of you wanted to slip out early.”

“--What?” You practically spluttered.

“You. And Jake.” She stated she stated with a self-assured grin.

The question of how she knew formed on your face, but before you could ask she pointed to your thigh. “It left a mark.” You looked down and saw a wide pink stripe across your exposed thigh, mirroring where Jake’s sheath had pressed into it while you were against the wall. Your face instantly heated up. 

“That and the tension is THICK, tonight, like even worse than usual.”

“Usual?”

She gave you a deadpan look before chuckling again. Jake had returned with an ankle wrap, a bottle of painkillers, and a cup. “Here we are.” He handed the wrap to you with a quick smile before handing her the cup and opening the bottle, beginning to shake two pills into the cap. “Ooh, a drink?” she took it before looking into the cup and frowning. Jake just chuckled “That’s called water.” You chuckled as you gently wrapped her ankle, and secured the end. She took the pills from the cap in his outstretched hand and downed them with the water before holding the cup up to him “Now can you get us a real drink, pretty please?” 

He pursed his lips, glancing at you. You nodded and he bowed his head with a pursed smirk. “Alright, what d’you each want?” “Something strong, whatever inspires you when you get to the kitchen,” she waved him off as he chuckled and shook his head, heading for the kitchen. 

The moment he was out of earshot she locked in on you again. “I’m serious, you should give it a chance. I’ll be fiiinnne. I’ll find someone to help me to bed, -you should have him help you to bed- ” You scoffed and swatted her leg as she giggled. “Uegh, that was bad.” “Yeah, yeah, …but you’re thinking about it.” You sighed exaggeratedly. She reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. “He’s a good one. Gallant. Noble.“, you both giggled before she continued in a genuine tone, ”And not just as a knight. I’ve known him a while, this isn’t even the first time he’s saved my ass. If you’re interested, you should go for it.” You chewed on your lip as Jake rounded the corner of the couch. He handed your friend her drink, then you yours, smiling down at you. 

“How’s our patient?” 

You couldn’t help but smile back at him. Your friend’s knee nudged you and your eyes snapped back to see hers smirking over her cup at you as she took a sip. You took a gulp of your drink -strong but sweet, perfectly blended as usual- and stood off the couch.  

“She’ll be fine.”

You took Jake’s hand and abruptly started towards the door. You could hear your friend giggling into her cup. He fell into step with you without question, despite the slight bewilderment in his face.

“-Where…?”

“We’re leaving.“ 

“Oh- good.”

You set your cup on a random surface as you grabbed your bag from the hooks in the front hall. You turned to see Jake taking a large black corduroy jacket from the front hall closet. He curled a finger around the string of your bow. “May I…?” You nodded and ducked your head as he lifted it up and off of you. You held it as he placed his jacket around your shoulders. Your eyes gleamed up at him as he straightened the collar.

“Did you drive here or-?”

“Yep.” he nodded.

“And are you…?”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I’m good to drive.”

As he closed the passenger door behind you, you marveled at the car’s interior. ‘It’s definitely vintage…’. The seats were black and teal leather, bench-style -‘maybe a Mustang, or a Camero…’. The back door on his side opened, startling you. Jake leaned in, placing his armor in the back seat. “Just me,” he reassured, “want to put that back here?”. He held out a hand for your bow, and you nodded, handing it to him. 

As soon as he settled in the driver’s seat and pulled his own door closed, you leaned over, holding the side of his face and kissing him urgently. He kissed you back, and you felt him smile against your lips. His hand turned the key and the motor rattled to life. A soft rock ballad started from the radio as he lifted his hand to mirror yours, gently cupping the side of your face. You shrugged off his coat, as the car started warming up significantly. His kiss was slow and sweet, even as you shifted to face him more fully, kneeling on the seat next to him. 

You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“Mine? Or yours? Or we could just find somewhere to par-?”

“Taco Bell?”

“What?” you pulled back slightly, giggling at his suggestion. 

“Are you hungry at all?”, he offered, "I’m happy to sleep at either of ours, I just thought I’d get something to eat before we head home.” His free hand stroked your upper arm as he waited for your response. You deflated slightly as it registered. 

“You don’t want to…”

“Of course I want you,” his thrumb stroked your cheek, “but you’re drunk, darling. You don’t want it like this, trust me.”

“Why’d you agree to leave with me then?”

“Well, I’d still like to hang out with you… but if you want to be dropped off, or you want to go back into the party, that’s obviously fine too.”

You considered for a moment. Being away from the loud music and colored lights of the party atmosphere, you were acutely more aware of just how much the alcohol had caught up with you. 

“...Are tacos still on the table?” you met his eyes again.

 He nodded “Of course.” 

You grinned at each other before you leaned in and pecked his lips again. 

“...and a sleepover?”, you asked quietly.

“I’d love to.” He placed a soft kiss on your cheek.

{Thank you all for reading! Feel free to let me know what you think!}

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[foetalmania]

JG Thirlwell and Nick Cave over the years.

Sources: Image 1 Videowave 1983, Image 2 Anton Corbijn for NME November 1983, Image 3 1990-1991 unknown photographer, Image 4 Alexander Hallag, Beacon Theatre approx. 2008.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 7

Title: The Perfect Jotunn Bride

Kink: Macrophilia

Pairing: Frost Giant! Loki x f!Asgardian!Reader,

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, macrophilia, temperature play (Frost Giant skin), descriptions of violence (not toward reader), arranged/forced marriage, dubcon, mean!Loki (he should just be a warning anyway), knife play (brief), corset, struggling to breathe (bc of the corset), nipple/breast play, thigh riding, teasing, biting/marking, pet names (see below author's note), squirting, vaginal fingering

No beta - and we're ignoring that I posted this 1 minute past midnight xoxo

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Your Husband, the Frost Giant Prince Loki, has come back from battle and expects to see his bride.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

A/N: I had to edit this fic more than once to cut and splice things from it. I expect I'll have a part 2 (and 3) soon... I don't even wanna talk about how many words this was YEESH. I gotta learn to make a one shot and not stay up to early hours with a 6k storyline. Again, this was supposed to be LONGER 💀

I found this website here that helped with Old Norse translations (but they may be wrong!) I'll link it once I get the chance - Love, Grem x

smăr einn = little one

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You had just barely managed to avoid the advances of your husband for the last few weeks. Too busy with the politics between realms to fully focus on you; and you were grateful for it. Your husband was ruthless, cruel and cold. That last adjective quote literally. The prince of Jotunheim was not to be trifled with; as your brother and father had found out rather perilously. Your father had sought to trick Loki and whilst his back was figuratively turned, your brother  was sent to kill him.  

Loki returned your brother’s mangled corpse back to your home, with a letter promising war unless your father’s prized possession – you – was given as penalty. Marriage with the prince of Jotunheim meant two realms were unified, which was far more prosperous  than war.  However, that meant being ripped away from your home, your family, your friends, your fiancé and everything you had ever known and being thrust into the cold, unforgiving hands of a barbaric frost giant.  You had begged, cried and pleaded with your father but nothing had changed his mind. It was set in stone.

Your new husband took joy in tormenting you on your wedding say, reminding you time and time again that you were lucky to be a negotiation prize rather than one of his spoils of war. The thought had made you shudder with terror and, thankfully, his attentions were lured away to another realm, another battle, another day spent far away from you.

You quickly learned that many of the female frost giants were unimpressed with you as a tiny little thing in comparison to their race as a whole. Your body almost entirely unequipped for Jotunheim weather. Your ladies-in-waiting were no different.  They had spoken in their native tongue in front of you, clearly, discussing you and how you probably didnt meet their standards nor their prince’s. You’d stayed quiet and fiddled with your hands, unsure of how to approach them or speak to them. Everything you knew about frost giants was from your culture; which labelled them as blood-thirsty barbarians. Though, the ice fortress you resided in was immaculate and strictly designed – different from your home in Asgard yet no less civilised.  That was a good starting point.

over the course of the week’s your husband’s absence, you focused on befriending your ladies-in-waiting. You asked about their culture, their lives and the language they spoke. If you were going to be here until the end of your days, you may as well know what is being said behind your back and, well, to your face.

You picked up words quickly, studying in the silence of the enormous bed chamber. You had borrowed a few children’s books from the library, and one or two on the flora and fauna of Jotunheim, though you could only appreciate the pictures thus far.

The bed chamber was far too big   for you, perfect size for your husband, you supposed. Large wooden bookcases adorned the far wall, and there was a small (well small for a giant) fireplace adorned with a fur rug from a creature you couldn’t name, but it was soft. The bed itself was so huge you practically drowned in the covers. It was cosy but you agreed with yourself it was probably cosy because your husband was not there with you.

Yet.

One morning, after waking up  relatively late, your ladies-in-waiting were busying about the bedroom.  

“What’s going on?” you ask nervously, already anticipating the answer.

Gertrud, the more social of the two giantess’, gave you a smile as she paused her dusting of the bookshelf. “Prince Loki is returning from battle today.”

You suppress a shiver and try to smile, but you’re not confident you look entirely happy. “Wonderful.”

Gertrud continues regardless, her face contorting to an excited, doe eyed look.  “He’s sent you a gift ahead of his arrival, my lady.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound chipper. In the very short time you had spent in Jotunheim, Loki had only ever taunted you, albeit briefly. A gift was... new. And you didn’t like it one bit.  “How thoughtful of him.”

“He left instruction for you to wear it on his return.” Gertrud says wistfully, as if it’s the most romantic thing she could dream of.

“Wear?” You speak before you can process what’s been said, the shock in your tone evident. Your mouth goes dry and heat burns its way to your cheeks. You weren’t stupid. Wearing something for his return only meant one thing. Your stomach becomes a pit and you have to scream at yourself internally to stop from swaying.

Gertrud mistakes the your shock and flushed face as a sign of excitement, not of worry and fear.  “I must say the garment – whatever it is – is not from Jotunheim. Your husband  must have acquired it for you, my lady.” Gertrud pauses to smile over at you. “I think our prince is quite taken with his bride.”

You flush a deeper shade of pink and clear your throat. “So it would seem.” You murmur carefully. “Where is the garment? What is it?”

Gertrud places the duster down and heads to a dresser on the otherside of the room, picking up a package and handing it over to you. You delicately take the package from her, shivering at the coolness of her skin, and begin to unwrap it. To your surprise, and utter embarrassment, it’s a corset with matching underwear. Gertrud’s eyebrows raise and she gives you a knowing smirk. You bury your face in your hands.

“I do not need to know what that thing is to know it’s intent,” She says smugly. “As I said, our prince is taken with his bride.”

You peek out from your fingers, eyeing the corset.  It’s blue – frost giant blue to be exact – with white lace detail across the bust and back, and white ribbon zigzagging up the back. If this was your husband’s idea of a sick joke, it worked. You still couldn’t decide if you were going to vomit from nervousness.

Gertrud pats your shoulder gently, again misreading your embarassment as bashfulness.

“I will run your bath, my lady. I do not know how to help you into that... thing.” She eyed the corset suspiciously. “But I will ensure that you are ready for your husband’s return.”

You only nod, anxiety twisting your stomach into knots. You should have known this would be inevitable.

You pace fretfully around the large bedroom. You’d wrapped yourself in a robe, hiding your corset and matching underwear, feeling too exposed even for the man who was your husband. You’d attempted to study again, books and notes strewn across the fur rug in front of the crackling fireplace, but the nervousness of your first night with your husband had you too worried to think.

You’d shooed Gertrud away as quickly as you could, after being bathed in the nicest oils and scents imaginable, softening your skin to butter. You’d fiddled with your corset, tightening it possibly too tight, and after one look in the mirror making heat rise where it definitely shouldn’t you’d throat on your robe.

You’d been pacing for an hour, or thereabouts. Word of Loki’s return to Jotunheim had spread like wildfire  within the fortress, yet  he still hadn’t come to see you. Any other time you would have been grateful but you knew that he was tormenting you; keeping you on edge until he decided to visit. You even contemplated running and hiding but you knew the risk; Loki had whispered as much to you at your wedding banquet, reminding you that if you ran away all out war would ensue. Starting with your father’s head on a spike.  You also knew that hiding would only deny the inevitable; you would eventually have to share a bed with your husband and as a wife, you were expected to bear his children. You shuddered again.

The door to the chambers opened. Your head whipped up, hands clutching at your robe tightly without thought, as you watched Loki enter.  He towered above you, easily twelve feet high maybe more, but he must have came from one of the bathrooms because his blue skin trickled with water droplets from his long raven’s wing hair, and he held a towel around his waist.  You averted your gaze to the fire, face flushing. Despite it all, he was still attractive.

Loki’s chuckle echoes throughout the chamber and the door shuts behind him.

“What? No welcome for your husband?”  He sneers. You don’t have to look to know his lips are curled into that cruel smile you’ve grown accustomed to. “And I see you’re not wearing your gift.”

You look over at him as he approaches, too scared to move. “I-I am.” You  murmur, regretting the words as they leave your mouth.

Loki sits on the rug in front of you, on leg up the other flush against the rug, the towel leaving little to the imagination. His red eyes stay on you as he smirks, eyebrows rising in surprise.

“Well,” He gestures at your robe. “Let your husband see.”

Your face burns, your palms are sweaty against your robe, and you pause. You look at your feet, clearing your throat.

“a-aren’t you going to tell me about your battle?” your attempt for stalling is dismissed immediately.

“Later. Show me. Before I remove it for you.”

You nod quickly and with a shaky breath, you untie your robe and let the garment pool at your feet. You would attempt to cover yourself but you aren’t even naked, which somehow makes it worse as you feel Loki’s crimson eyes rake over you.  Your chest his flushed and heaves  in the corset, ribbon straining with each breath. Your breasts look like they might spill over at any given moment and   You feel a little light headed from the entire situation. 

“Come closer, wife.” Loki curls a finger at you and you take a few tentative steps closer until you’re stood between his knees, still staring at your feet. His finger tilts your chin up to look at him. The coolness of his finger makes you shiver but when you meet his eyes, there’s a softness you don’t expect to see. “You look beautiful.”

You don’t quite gasp, but your mouth makes a small ‘o’ in shock. You hadn’t expected something so sincere, let alone nice and it makes heat surge between your thighs.

“Thank you, Loki.” You say softly. Loki shifts his legs, eyes not leaving yours as his lips twitch upwards into a smirk. His gaze flits behind you to your notes and his smirk widens into a grin.

“Ah, my wife has been busy whilst I’ve been gone.” He comments, gaze flicking back to you.  “Come into my arms and tell me what you’re working on, smár einn.”

The foreign words tickle at your memory but you can only recognise the word one. You take another few steps forward, squeaking with surprise when Loki’s cold forearm  wraps around your waist, guiding you to straddle a large, muscular thigh. The icyness of his skin against the warmth between your thighs makes you audibly gasp, and Loki chuckles.  

“Happy I’m home?” He teases, your back meeting his torso as he cages you in around his thigh. Wisps of his hair tickle at your shoulders, and a cool kiss is placed at your nape makes you startle. “Because I’m happy to be back. I thought you wouldn’t wear this for me.”

Your blushing isn’t missed by Loki nor is the throb of your cunt on his thigh. When you don’t answer, Loki’s nose runs along your nape, making you shiver again. You’re breathing harder, your breasts bobbing with each breath, as you try to get as much air into your lungs as possible. You feel like you’re suffocating, even though Loki’s grip loose on your waist.

Loki doesn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he doesn’t care, he’s too busy being smug about your excitement for him, and continues to tease you about your corset; how you look like the perfect Jotun bride now. You mumble thanks at his teases, trying not to look at him and trying not to think of anything, but Loki start to trail icy kisses up your neck that burn your skin in their wake. You mewl quietly and shift your legs causing more friction against your cunt which in turn makes you squeeze your thighs around his gigantic thigh and you notice that the same raised lines on the tough blue skin of his arms and face are on his legs too. Loki nips gently at you shoulder, eliciting a strangled yelp from you.

“That’s it, warm me up, smăr einn.” He taunts, licking the skin he’d bitten with a luke-warm tongue. “Rutting against me like a bitch in heat, no instruction needed.”

Shame floods you at his taunt but so does a throb of excitement. Loki kisses at your neck a little more hungrily in response, earning another few short gasps from you.

“Go on,” He urges in a low, mocking tone. “You want to – I can feel that you want to.”

You whimper pathetically, rolling your hips forward for more friction. Your lip quivers and you bit down – hard – you’ll be dammed if you let him think he wins by seeing you cry. But your giant husband only sneers down at you. Your clit brushes against one of the raised ridges of his skin; electricity crashing through you as you gasp loudly, falling forward onto your palms. Your nails dig into his tough skin when you hear him chuckle, face flushing with anger as you glare in his direction. Loki only mocks you further, holding a hand up in faux-surrender.

“I’m sorry, wife.” He says smugly, watching your reaction. “Please, continue fucking yourself on my thigh.”

You fluster again, but the light-headedness you felt earlier returns. This time, though, instead of struggling to breathe you feel faint and you sway and swoon atop Loki’s thigh. Loki raises an eyebrow, vexed at your actions, before realising that you aren’t faking. Something akin to concern crosses his face and he gets to his feet, holding you close as he takes you to his large bed.

He places you down somewhat gently, your breathing laboured, the constriction from the corset aching at your ribs. You can’t seem to get enough air into your lungs at they scream at your for it. When you look at your husband you wonder briefly if he’ll leave you to die like this and when he pulls a knife from his bedside table, you think he will be the one to take your life instead. The blade is cold against the heat of your skin. Loki doesn’t rush. He trails the tip of the blade down your sternum, between your breasts, to the lacy frill of your corset.

“I can remove this if you so wish,” he says coolly, pressing the blade into your skin, but not hard enough to draw blood. “But I need to hear you beg.”

You want to kick him for the heat that pools between your legs. He knows you’re struggling to breathe with this God forsaken corset on and somehow he manages to find a way to please himself.

“Please.” You huff, but Loki clicks his tongue.

“No, no.” He chides. “Properly.”

His eyes meet yours, and you can feel the challenge emanating from them. You grit your teeth and take a small breath, trying to avoid crushing your ribs. In a small voice you beg him in the way he’s requested.

“Please, husband.” You mumble. “Please, help me.”

The ripping of the ribbons are swift. Your beautiful but bone-crushingly tight corset falls away and you inhale a deep breath that transforms into a gasp when Loki’s mouth finds your nipples and sucks them almost lovingly. Your hands root into his thick black hair, mind drawing a blank, as a cold hand tweaks the nipple he isn’t paying attention to with his mouth. You couldn’t push him away even if you wanted to, not with a giant’s strength. However at this moment in time, you didn’t want him far from you.

Your gasps and moans fill the chamber and Loki smirks up at you from where he’s latched to your breast. Peppering kisses to every inch of skin he can manage, Loki finally finds a supple piece of skin above your left breast that he deems the perfect space for a mark. A mark to show the world that you are his. Only his.

He bites down onto the skin, feeling the vessels burst between his teeth and growls at you when you tug at his hair with a pained yell. You writhe beneath him as he sucks and kisses the spot he marked, the gesture is almost sweet, loving, but you’re too busy feeling too turned on to care. His hands large hands move down to remove what’s left of your underwear, a long, cool finger teasing at your folds.

“Loki,” you say his name with no air left in your lungs, your body trembling under his touch. You’re no longer fighting the desire you feel, which stirs something within Loki’s icy chest. He looks down at you, head tilted faux-curiously, unable to resist teasing you.

“That’s the first time you’ve used my name.” He comments, watching your face contort in pleasure as his index finger breaches your dripping core. “I believe you deserve a reward for being such a good wife.”

His digit pumps you at a vicious pace that, after the assault on your sensitive breasts, sends you careening over the edge of ecstasy quickly. You coat his finger with your cum, chanting his name desperately, strangling his finger with your pussy as he helps you ride out your high. Your legs twitch as you watch him with half lidded gaze as he remove his finger from you with a smirk. He towers over you and before you can say a word, he’s peppering you with soft, cold kisses.

“My smăr einn,” he says softly. “You did well tonight. I look forward to seeing what tomorrow will bring.”

You don’t think about what he could mean, your brain is too foggy and you feel too wonderful to want to dampen the wonderful elation you’re feeling; something you haven’t felt in weeks. You don’t even complain when Loki curls over you, allowing him to wrap himself around you under the sheets of your bed. Nor do you move away when Loki kisses your head and wishes you goodnight; something he’s never done before.

As you drift to sleep, anxiety of the day and the high provided by your orgasm taking its toll, you wonder if maybe your relationship with Loki could be better than you had expected.

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 16

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 10.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Tooth-decaying sweetness, talk of pregnancy/impregnation, fleeting mention of everyone's least favorite Pike cousin. Summary: A bridal shower, a night out, and an evening babysitting that all have surprises of their own. Notes: Happy pride month, Pedro Nation! We're edging closer to the end of this story at a brisk pace. Just a few more chapters before the epilogue 🧡✨

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11 ~ Ch 12 ~ Ch 13 ~ Ch 14 ~ Ch 15

"Birdie, stop." The stern but loving words are an order as Sydney places both of her hands on your shoulders and demonstrates a slow, steady breath for you for the second time today. "Amelia and Sean have the whole party under control. Your wedding planner has done an immaculate job planning this bridal shower and my sous chef knows this menu like the back of his hand." Her thumbs press gently into your bare shoulders, the edges of your Jackie Kennedy-esque pastel 60s shift dress not quite covering your shoulders and making you feel much cooler on this hot July afternoon. You're both wearing white gloves, completing the ensembles you've chosen, but at this moment you're much less worried about propriety than other things. "It's going to be fun, you just have to chill out."

"I know." The closer the wedding gets the more anxious you get about absolutely everything, and you take a deep breath because Sydney is completely right. You need it. "Is it dumb to wish Marcus was here? I'm so jealous that the guys are all at a Nationals game today."

“I’m jealous too, but I also know that Marcus and Juan would love nothing more than to be right here.” She reminds you with a grin. “Firmly inserted up our asses, which is where they like to stay.”

"Only because you told Juan you wanted to wait for another baby," you snort under your breath, shaking your head at your best friend. "I think I just want everybody here and for things to be underway. Bridal showers can be brutally boring and I just don't want today to be like that for anyone."

“I didn’t mean like that.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and grinning at you. “Do you honestly think your bridal shower is going to be boring?” She asks, stepping back and gesturing to your outfits. “We are dressed up as famous women that have made significant contributions to our society, we are having our now famous tea service, and we have booze.”

It's true to say that this is not anyone's average bridal shower. The Famous Women of History theme had gone over wonderfully with guests and the tea service now being run each and every weekend by the inn has been written up in multiple publications all over the country. Even if you only had those two things going for you, you would be miles ahead of other parties. You soften into a smile, bolstered by her confidence. "Your Julia Child costume is immaculate, by the way."

Sydney immediately adopts the characteristic accent that Julia was so well known for. “Of course!” She agrees, grinning. “Who would not want to be me?”

Accents have never been your forte, but you aim for something vaguely Transatlantic and fall comically short when you reply: “No one I can think of, darling.”

Sputtering out a laugh, she grabs your hand. “Come on Jackie.” She teases. “We’ve got a party to go to.”

The gallery hall that has been rented for the party is stunning. Paintings hang immaculately on the wall and a baby grand piano sits at the ready, while small table for four or six guests each dot the area facing a larger, longer table. The pastel color palette is perfect, welcoming without being babyish, and you soften a little to look around and see flower petals sprinkled artfully over each table, brightening up the place settings and name cards. “No centerpieces, so we have room for the tea towers,” you hum, checking out each table. “It’s perfect, Syd.”

“I thought you would like that, letting the food decorate.” She beams at the compliment but she is more excited to celebrate you.

“I absolutely love it.” Simple and classy, that’s what the decor is, and you give your best friend a squeezing hug as people start to arrive.

The group is a mixture of family and friends. Everyone from Marcus’s side comes out, with the exception of one, which no one misses Hannah here if they were pressed for an opinion. The mood is festive and despite the invitation saying presents aren’t necessary, no one comes empty handed.

Your own side of the invitation list is a tad smaller, but no less enthusiastic. The girls from game night are all dressed as famous authors, including Sydney’s sister AnnaLeigh as Mary Shelley with a big heart necklace, and Selena is wearing a Rockford Peaches uniform for all the women baseball players she idolized growing up. Even Sydney and AnnaLeigh’s mother has come in from Philadelphia, dressed as Marie Curie with glowing jewelry to bring in the ‘radiation’ aspect.

It’s a given fact that your mother will always arrive last to any gathering, but she makes a hell of a splash arriving in her Votes for Women sash and the costume that she has worn for every Halloween party for your entire life. "Alice Paul." You laugh when she comes over to give you a tight hug. "I almost thought you might go for something else but it has to be Alice Paul. But I see you've gotten a new hat. It's perfect."

“Of course.” She snorts, grinning at you. “How could it be anything else? Birdie, this looks amazing.” She gushes. “Your bridal shower is gorgeous.”

"We said no gifts," you laugh half-heartedly, seeing the boxes and bags and assorted packages on the table by the door to the gallery. "I mean we knew most people wouldn't listen, but really it's so sweet of everyone."

“Honey, people are so happy for you and Marcus.” Your mother reminds you with a soft smile and a hug around your waist. “I’m sure that they just want you to know how loved you are.”

"We're very lucky." That is the least of it, but of course you're very lucky. Having the love of your life is about the luckiest thing you could possibly ask for in the world. Today is the icing on the proverbial tea cake, as far as you're concerned. But it's wonderful to get to see all the ladies of your family. "If you like what's been set up, then you should make Amelia Sharma your official event planner," you tell your mother, before seeing your sister spinning around the room like a whirlwind. "I think Junie likes it, too."

She hums as she looks over at your younger sister. “Is she— Jane Goodall?” She frowns slightly as she tries to understand the costume that she is wearing.

"Of course she is." It doesn't surprise you one bit, and you offer your mother a cheeky grin. "Her childhood hero. I would expect nothing less of Junebug."

“There was a time that your sister insisted that we adopt a gorilla.” Your mother snorts. “So I don’t doubt that at all.”

"Do you know why she stopped asking?" The smirk on your face is unapologetic, but considering you were not more than eleven or twelve at the time your baby sister insisted on wanting a gorilla for a sibling, you think it was still a clever comeback. "I told her we already had Alex."

Your mother rolls her eyes and sighs. “That’s why?” She huffs. “You always liked to try to rock the boat.” It’s an affectionate chiding and she is grinning while she delivers the chastisement.

"It only took her her entire childhood to be able to have a pet," you tease back. "Are you even the least bit surprised she named the rescue puppy Koko?"

“Not in the least.” Your mother admits with a wistful smile. “Just like I know Koko will go with Junie when she moves out.”

“All three of your kids have their soulmates, Ma.” You nudge her affectionately, and the warm and proud smile on her face grows with the reminder. “You might have a quiet White House next term if we all end up settled down and domestic.”

“All I’ve ever wanted was for the three of you to find your happiness.” She takes your hand and squeezes it. “My dreams and goals have never been any of yours, your paths are different from mine.”

“And we appreciate the fact that you recognize that. More than you could possibly know.” It would be easy for her to be blind to it, after all. Or to find the three of you unambitious because you don’t have goals as lofty as hers. But a small business owner, a future lawyer, and a future veterinarian are nothing to sniff at. You squeeze her hand back and tilt your head toward the other side of the room. “Come on, Mom. I sat you with Donna and with Syd’s mother. The Mom Table.”

“The Mom Table.” She hums. “I appreciate that. Donna and I have fabulous conversations.”

“It’s such a relief that you guys get along.” Of any two mothers in the world, you know your own mother and your future mother-in-law feel very strongly about wanting the best for their kids, so you’re glad they agree on what the definition of best is.

“I couldn’t imagine a world where we didn’t get along, to be honest.” Your mother admits. “I have been giving serious thought to having Donna appointed to a member of my cabinet.”

After staring at her for a few seconds you just blow a raspberry and shrug, letting out a small laugh. “I honestly can’t even tell if you’re joking.”

She frowns for a moment. “Why would I be joking?” She asks. “I don’t think that she accept Surgeon General, since we have a fantastic doctor in that role, but I think that she would be amazing at guiding our country forward through the mental health crisis that is emerging.”

You gape slightly, mouth open, and shut it again twice more like a fish before trying to talk again. “So you’re going to create a government position for a mental health professional alongside the Surgeon General…and offer it to Donna Pike?”

“Mental health is linked to physical health.” She has been considering this a lot and it’s the first time she’s mentioned it outside of her private office. “I think a practicing therapist and doctorate of physiology would understand the shortcomings of our current healthcare system and help put protocols in place to improve our mental health as a nation.”

“In no way do you need to convince me of the ongoing mental healthcare crisis in this country. I see my therapist every two weeks like clockwork.” Stopping in your tracks, you level your mother with a serious expression. “I think it’s a fantastic idea. Regardless of whether or not you appoint Donna, mental health needs to be made a more important conversation.”

“Absolutely.” She nods. “Would you mind if I broached the subject with her? Nothing would interfere with your wedding, or any wedding related activities.”

"Not at all." She doesn't need your blessing but it's nice of her to ask for it. "Why don't you guys have a walk around the gallery after tea? Talk all you like."

“After the party.” She won’t take away from this time for anything in the world, but your approval was important to her.

"In that case?" When you reach the table you show her which seat is hers and gladly accept another hug. "She's going to be in town all week. I bet she'd love some sweet tea on the White House lawn."

“I’ll have to have her put on my schedule then.” She shoots you a wink and sits down so you can focus your attention to other guests. “Go, mingle.”

There are a whole lot of people to mingle with. That was part of the point, of course, and getting to see more of the Pike family for the first time since April is a welcome occasion. When you eventually get to sit down at your table, it's a sigh of relief to be with your closest friends.

Champagne is distributed, although this isn’t supposed to be a boozy event. It is however a historical nod towards gilded age. The sous chef that is in charge of the menu starts to have the staff bring out the tiered tea service trays.

"So." When the tray for the six of you goes in the middle of the table between you, Sydney, Selena, AnnaLeigh, June, and Issy, you narrow your eyes at all of them. "When do I get to actually know something about my bachelorette party?"

“Nope.” Selena pops back, a grin on her face as she takes a demure sip of her drink. “Just that you are going to love it.”

"A hint?" You beg, trying to look suitably pathetic for your friends. You know it will be great, whatever they have planned, and you do love surprises. But they have been remarkably good at keeping this under their hats. "Are we talking a day? A night? Travel? Doing something at home?"

“It’s going to be fun.” Junie supplies unhelpfully with a knowing smirk. She knows how much you want to know about this and it’s been a huge planning event for all of them. They even created a group chat without you to organize it.

"Seriously, guys?" Snorting at them as you all start to pick through the assortment of finger sandwiches on the bottom tier of the tower, you just shake your head. "Fine. But be prepared for me to ask a million and a half questions while I'm trying to outfit plan."

“We’ve already got your outfit planned.” Sydney tells you. “Don’t worry. We will be bringing it when we get you.”

"You're kidding me?" They have been extremely thorough – extremely thorough – it seems, and you huff at the lot of them playfully. "You guys really thought of everything, didn't you?"

“It’s our chance to make sure that all you do is show up and enjoy yourself.” Anna Leigh snorts. “Even your bridal shower had you planning things. And you can’t tell me you didn’t because that would be a lie.”

"I like to plan things," you remind her, even to the point where you automatically pick up the teapot from beside you and start pouring for your friends. "I might not be as good as Juan, but it's fun."

“But there are times where you deserve to be treated.” Selena adds. “Your bachelorette party is one of them. We do promise that no scandals will erupt from the night. No strippers have been hired.”

"We will be saving that for Junie, I'm sure." It's really just to get a reaction out of your little sister and her face wrinkles immediately.

“Eeeew, no.” She snorts. “The last thing I want is for some strange, naked man to rub on me.”

"Couldn't agree more, baby sis." You fill up her teacup and hand it back across the table. "Could not agree more."

“No, I don’t think any of us would want that.” Selena huffs. “I think you would be too busy thinking about my cousin, as gross as that is.” She teases playfully.

"I could completely freak you out if I wanted to." The silent confirmation of that fact is the necklace you've worn almost every day since Valentine's Day, and you unconsciously touch the heart-shaped charm where it lies just under the collar of your dress and under the string of pearls that goes with your costumes. "Get all lovey-dovey and thoroughly gross you out."

“Please don’t.” She grimaces and everyone at the table laughs. “I am related to him, and despite what Hannah thinks, I don’t sleep with my cousins.” She snorts. “Just because I’m from Texas doesn’t mean I’m into that kind of crap.”

"Nobody reasonable thinks you do." It really is sort of a blessing that Hannah Pike couldn't come to DC this weekend, being stuck on a mandatory business trip. Keeping the bridal shower drama free is important to everyone. "For a fully different topic, did everybody bring their song request for the wedding band if you have one? I promised I would send the list of requests in this week."

The topic on much nicer things, the party goes into full swing and Sydney makes sure to glance around at the tables to see the reactions of the tea service.

"I'm calling it." Issy says, halfway through the tea service when the savory tea towers around the room are switched out with sweet options. "You're going to have at least three people wanting to reserve tables for afternoon tea at the inn after this party. Maybe up to five."

“It would be good.” Sydney hums. “The tea service has been good for business. The restaurant is now full most of the day. And guests at the inn have even requested tea trays to their rooms.”

"We're pretty much booked solid through to the end of the year." Which is startling considering it's only July, but the inn has been packed. "Tea service reservations have been filling up, too. Which reminds me," you glance around the table after snagging a teacup full of lemon tiramisu. "When we get back from the honeymoon, I want to take all of you guys and Alex and David out for a night. To say thank you for how much help you've all been and show my gratitude. And no protests, I know you've all put immense money and time into these wedding events. I'm grateful."

"I heard something about a special pianist?" Not knowing a whole lot about the classical music scene despite enjoying it, you had just smiled and nodded when your mother mentioned it.

“Yes, I’m sure he will be here soon.” Sydney smiles as she looks around the room. “I wonder how it will sound in here, I’m sure it will be gorgeous.”

“Will I get called cheesy if I say it’s just as perfect as everything else has been?” Of course there have been hiccups along the way — most notably the night of the engagement party — but they’ve been handled and haven’t affected how lovely the road to your wedding has been. It’s been an absolute fairy tale.

“Of course you will.” Junie grins. “But that’s okay, because you are cheesy.”

“You’ll be cheesy too,” you assure your little sister. “In a couple of years when we’re doing all this for you.”

“I don’t want a big wedding.” She shrugs. “I appreciate you doing this so I can claim that it was too much.”

“Glad to do my duty as your big sister.” That has you raising your teacup in salute, a gesture echoed around the table. “But things with Dylan are good?” Junie and her soulmate have been together just as long as you and Marcus, but you’re grateful to see them moving much slower. There’s no need to rush at their age.

“They are wonderful.” Instantly her grin softens and her eyes take on the moony quality she is constantly teasing you about. “Really, really good. His parents like me, so that’s a plus. His mom cried when she met me, happy that her son had finally found his soulmate.”

“Good.” Junie’s been so happy this last year and more. It’s been bleeding into every aspect of her life and you swear even her GPA is up just by proxy of being in a better mood so she’s less grouchy about studying. “Just as long as nobody’s pressuring you guys about moving faster than you’re comfortable with.”

“No, I think that Dylan wants to move in together soon.” She admits with a grin. “And I don’t mind that.”

The table going silent and still for a long moment before breaking out into squeaks of glee, each woman reaching for Junie or hugging her from the side as she expresses the sweetness and happiness of that news in her own words. “Our little Junebug is growing up,” you huff softly, carefully wiping away a sentimental tear so as not to smudge your makeup. “Whatever you need, you have all of us and Alex and David and Marcus and Mom and Dad—” The length of the list makes you pause, and laugh softly. “You have so many people who love you, Junie. And we’ll be here to help you with anything you need.”

“I know.” She does know that her family loves her, her given and made families. It’s something that gives her comfort and joy in knowing that she doesn’t have to be alone. “But right now, we have a bride to celebrate and that is my big sister.” She tells you. “A woman I have looked up to my entire life.”

“Well gosh.” You exaggerate the word and wipe your hands down your face like Goofy blushing in a Disney cartoon. “I love you too, Junebug. Being your big sister is a privilege.”

“I know.” She quips, making everyone laugh and distracting you as a man in a suit walks in and quickly strides to the piano to sit down.

“I don’t think I could eat another bite but I want to.” Selena sighs, and you hum your agreement with teacup in hand. The food, as is the custom for anything coming out of Sydney’s kitchen, has been both endless and utterly delicious.

No one notices him, except your mother, until the first sound of a key strike from the piano is heard. Conversation stops and heads turn as the broad-shouldered man starts to play, his back to his audience.

You recognize the song immediately. La Vie en Rose is the song that you played for Marcus the night you confessed that you had feelings for him and it has been your song for the entirety of your relationship. It's even what you have planned for your first dance at your wedding. So to hear it now brings a tear to your eye even before you look up to watch whatever mysterious musician your mother has hired.

Except you know those broad shoulders. The haircut he got barely a week ago. The cut of that suit. The charcoal suit that he likes to wear with a blue shirt to offset the dark tone. But since when does Marcus play piano?

Another man enters the room, a violin on his shoulder as he starts to slowly join in the song as Marcus plays. His shoulders move as his fingers caress the keys and pull the song out of them that has become so special to him.

One by one, a full band strolls into the room with their instruments to join the tune, and all you can do is try to ebb the flow of tears welling up in your eyes. By the time the song swells, there are six more musicians in the room with Marcus, and you're suddenly convinced that all those golfing trips with your father have been a cover for the time he must have spent learning piano for this moment.

The song comes together beautifully. The building design is actually perfect to echo the harmonious stringed instruments. Making Marcus smile as he works through the song.

You aren’t really sure at what point during the song you pushed away from the table, open mouthed shock in your face but with so much love and gratitude in your heart for this man that a few tears have spilled over while he plays. This is true proof, at least to you, of how thoughtfulness between partners can make moments that last a lifetime.

Marcus feels you staring at him, making him wonder if you recognize that it's him. He smiles softly as the song slowly starts to wind down after an extended verse, one he had added himself.

The whole room is on their feet with applause, but your feet are on a wholly different mission — carrying you forward through the gallery to throw your arms around Marcus’s neck almost the second he’s stood up from the piano bench. There are tears, of course there are, but they’re such joyful ones that when you sniffle in his ear and chastise him for keeping such a secret, he knows you don’t mean it.

Marcus holds you close and when you pull back just the tiniest bit, he is pressing his lips to yours. “Sorry for crashing your party, but I wanted to give you your wedding present early.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you insist, not quite understanding what he means but over the moon that he’s here. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” He promises, admiring your outfit and reaching up and caressing your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Even more than I already was.” Kissing him again gets a soft Awwe! from your assembled friends and family and you fluster a little. “Are you staying for the rest?”

“I don’t want to take away from the festivities.” He winks at you. “Besides, I still have a game to go watch with the guys.”

A soft pout only makes him chuckle quietly, but it earns you another kiss so that will have to be enough for now. “Then I expect you to come pick me up so we can sort through all the shower gifts at home tonight. Deal?”

"I will be here." He promises with a small chuckle. "I want to see how adorably drunk you get while you are celebrating with your ladies."

“Just tipsy enough to be cute,” you promise him. But before he can wave to your friends and make his exit, you place one soft hand on his chest. “You changed the song,” you observe quietly, as though it has only just occurred to you.

He smiles, eyes lighting up as you recognize that the song was longer than it should have been. "I added a lyric." He admits. "You'll hear it," he promises as he takes your hand and bows slightly like a gentleman would as he kisses it. "It will be in my wedding vows to the most beautiful woman I know."

Rather than your usual self-deprecation or teasing Oh yeah? When do I get to meet her? you find it impossible to do anything but smile and moon at him with the most lovestruck expression on your face as he makes his exit.

"When did Marcus learn to play the piano?" Selena walks up to you, wide eyed and obviously impressed with the display and a little envious of the lengths that her cousin will go to in order to show you the depths of his love for you. She can only hope her own soulmate would be as equally devoted.

“My guess?” When you turn around to face Selena, she looks as dreamy as you feel. “The regular golfing trips with my dad have actually been piano lessons.”

"Oh...you think?" It's entirely plausible, especially because Marcus spends all his free time with you beyond the golfing trips. "That's probably the sweetest damn thing I've ever heard."

“That’s…” you sniffle, wiping away the last bit of sentimental water from your eye. “That’s Marcus.” Perfect, wonderful, sweet Marcus.

"You deserve everything wonderful." Your mother comes up, flanked by Donna. "Marcus wanted to surprise you and give you a...'grand gesture'?" She tilts her head curiously.

“Learning to play piano so he can play our song and write a new lyric for it definitely counts as a grand gesture.” If you’re smiling half as hard as you think you are, you must be beaming. “It’s…something I did for him. My grand gesture was when I told him I loved him for first time. This is his.”

It's very sweet and very on point for the two of you. Donna smiles softly. "Marcus must have love that. So often he is the one to give a grand gesture."

“That’s why I did it,” you admit, knowing that it makes you an incredibly sappy couple together. “Because he deserves just as much love as he gives.”

"You are perfect for him." She coos, making your mother smile and shake her head. "By the time the wedding comes around, you'll be asking for a fireworks airshow with the Blue Angels and the Marine Corp marching band." She teases.

“Oh gosh.” The sound of it is sweet and very grand, but you shake your head and laugh right along with both mothers. “I think that might be a bit much. Even for us.”

Everyone laughs and your mother smiles softly. "Well, how about we move on to your gifts?" She asks, turning towards the table that stacked with boxes and bags. "There's quite a few to go through."

“There’s so many.” Unpacking the car with Marcus back at the house after the party is like unloading clowns from a Volkswagen Bug. “Didn’t we say that gifts weren’t necessary? We even listed a non-profit on the invitations for people to donate to instead.”

His eyes widen at the stack of gifts, and he chuckles, his hands on his hips as he determines the best way to attack the mound of boxes. "They love you. Or they just wanted to give you one hundred toasters." He glances back at you. "They aren't all toasters, are they?"

“Maybe,” you tease, looping your arm through the handles of all the gift bags on one half of the backseat. Just because you know what all the gifts are already doesn’t mean you’re going to spoil it for him. “I guess you’re just going to have to find out.”

"That's a lot of toasters." He huffs, shaking his head.

"Come on, baby." Leaning over, you smack a kiss to his cheek and grin, happy to be home. "Let's get this stuff inside and you can open everything while I enter who gave us what into a spreadsheet. I am not getting behind on thank you cards this early in the game."

Despite the fact that you no longer have to go up to the third floor or carry everything through the inn, it still takes several trips from the car to the house. "Did they buy out a Home Goods?" He grunts, finally bringing the last of the packages in.

"Two, I think." He's hauled everything into the living room, but you're in the kitchen grabbing drinks. "Do you want alcohol, caffeine, or to hydrate, babe?"

"I think we need to hydrate." His answer is slightly because of the heat, somewhat of how giggly you had been when you were picked up, and because it's too late for coffee.

"Two waters coming right up." You also grab your laptop from the kitchen table where you had left it this morning, and bring everything over to him on the big sectional sofa in the living room. "Where do you want to start, my love?"

"I honestly don't know." He huffs, "I guess we just go from one side of the room to the other?"

"Start with the thing closest to you, then." The spreadsheet is all made and ready to go, all you have to do is sit back and sip on your water as you enter data into it and Marcus marvels over the gifts that your friends and family decided would be perfect for your home. "The big box on your right is from your Aunt Clara."

"Okay, the big box." Marcus nods and moves towards it. "Have you already written down what everyone got us, or do you need to do that now?"

"Sydney did the typical bridesmaid with a notebook thing at the shower," you assure him. "Right now I'm just noting down if we have any specific reactions or ideas that I include in the thank you cards. Like 'Oh, Great-Aunt Martha, this electronic toaster is fantastic, we can't wait to make the fanciest grilled cheeses known to man.' Or whatever."

"Soooooo many toasters." He grunts, grinning at you before he opens the first box and finds the impressive looking espresso maker. "Huh...that's not going to toast bread, but I think I like it."

"It's definitely not." Giggling a little at how his eyebrows have raised, you tap the side of the box to draw his attention to the machine's advertised settings. "This is the model up from what we had on our registry. It's even fancier than what we picked out."

"Well damn Aunt Clara." He snorts, looking suitable impressed by the higher model machine. It will look good in the kitchen that currently sports a regular drip coffee pot. "We do have her sitting at a good table at the reception, right?"

"I think I have her at a table with David's parents because they're all scrapbook people." You glance up from your laptop and raise an eyebrow at him. "David's parents have already said they're making a scrapbook of the wedding, by the way."

"Interesting." He hums quietly, wondering if that will be something that you love or end up hating.

"However it ends up looking, it will be done with love." Pointing to the next bag to Marcus's right, you urge him on, trying to building momentum. "Next?"

He picks up at bag. "And who is this lovely gift from?" He asks, showcasing it playfully.

"That is from my baby sister." Scolding Junie had done no good, she just grinned at you and gleefully handed it over when it was time.

“Oh?” He hums as he opens it up and pulls out an organizer. “Ummmmm.”

“Flip it open,” you urge him, knowing that Junie put quite a lot of thought into the gift and he’ll like it once he realizes what he’s holding.

Once he opens it, he realizes what it is for. “Oh wow.” It’s an organizer, but it’s not for a single year. It’s for the two of you for your lifetime. Some pages are meant to be filled out separately, before your time together, but the majority is for you to record your major life events. Marriage, children, buying houses, moving. All organized into a beautiful leather binding that can be lovingly preserved for future generations.

“Our life together, between two covers.” Or, it will be, when you’re sitting together as old folks reminiscing as you fill the last pages. “Junie’s getting sentimental now that she has Dylan. It’s actually very sweet.”

“Dylan is showing her that emotional attachments are not just reserved for animals.” He has talked to the younger man several times and found him to be extreme nice and caring. That positive reinforcement has seemingly broken your younger sister out of her shell.

“Apparently they’re talking about moving in together.” It’s still a little unbelievable that you heard that out of your own sister’s mouth, but you absolutely couldn’t be happier for them Junie really does deserve the best and she’s been so happy since finding her soulmate.

"Oh yeah?" He looks both impressed and surprised. They are moving faster than he imagined, although it is still slow for some soulmates. "As long as they don't feel pressured."

“She said it was his idea and she seems so totally over the moon about it.” Flipping through the book together, there are some pages — engagement, moving in together, first house — that you can already fill out. “She thanked me for having the big public wedding so she doesn’t have to.”

That makes him laugh, a totally Junie thing to say since the younger sibling likes the spotlight even less that you do, although you handle it better. "I'm so glad we can help her out like that." He snorts. "I see Junie honestly doing a court house wedding with a small little family reception."

“I told both of my siblings when I bought the inn, that they just have to say the word and it’s their wedding site.” You shrug lightly and lean your head on Marcus’s shoulder. “I hope at least one of them takes me up on it, but we’ll see.”

"I think that it will be your brother." Marcus admits, shrugging slightly. "Whoever wants to use it, they will have a ton of help."

“Yes they will.” And it’s a comforting thought, considering how much work you now know a wedding to be. Marcus had tried to warn you, but you had been an enthusiastic new bride who dove in headfirst. Well, at least it’s been fun in addition to being a lot. “Want to open the next one?”

It takes forever to go through the stack of gifts, none of them were repeated surprisingly enough. It must have taken some behind the scenes coordination that you and Marcus weren't aware of. Maybe you should be considering everyone's love of surprises.

“If we recycle all this wrapping paper, we won’t have to buy more for a year.” Slumped back on the couch, both you and Marcus are boggled all over again by the amount of packages there were to open, but you made it.

“A year? Try three.” He jokes, shaking his head. “If you never knew how loved you are, you should know now.”

“This is for both of us,” you remind him, looking around at the piles of gifts you received today. Housewares, linens, gardening things, and decor amongst others.

"It's a bridal shower, not a groom's shower." He reminds you with a grin and drops a kiss on your nose. "You're loved, just admit it."

“I am loved.” That much you’ll agree to, dopey smile and all. “And I love you right back.”

He smirks and kisses your nose again. "Okay....we have our list, do you want to start messing with this stuff or tuck it away in that nice, empty storage room off the laundry room?"

“Why don’t we put each pile in the room where it belongs? It will be incentive to put it away.” You smirk at him and bop his nose with your finger. “Since you hate piles, it’ll bug you until we put everything away.”

"I feel like you are using that against me." He huffs, and shakes his head even as he starts to reach for the items to organize them for the rooms.

“Only in that it keeps me motivated too.” The pile for the kitchen is the largest so you move to that, first. “The fact that you’re happiest in a clean house makes me want to keep clean.”

“But if you’re tired, the dishes or laundry or whatever else can wait.” He promises. “Or I can do it my damned self if it’s bothering me that badly.”

“Oh, I’m not saying I feel pressured.” This stack is going to take several trips, you find rather immediately. The espresso maker is one trip in and of itself. “I’m saying you keep me honest, and I appreciate it.”

He chuckles and even though his hands are also full, he manages to shift everything to slap your ass as you pass by him. “Good to know.”

“So where are we going?” June asks, though she and Dylan are following dutifully behind as the six of you — her and Dylan, you and Marcus, and Alex and David leave Friday night dinner together. David had invited the siblings and soulmates out someplace but she can’t remember where.

"It's a surprise." David throws her a cheeky grin and a wink. "It wouldn't be any fun if I told you were we were going."

"Well, whatever it is, he has the blessing of the Secret Service," you note, glancing around the group of six of you to see the three agents giving you all a wide birth as you walk out to your cars. "Or is that just because we have Marcus?"

"I would like to think I have a little pull." Marcus teases, tapping your hip as he guides you towards your car. "Maybe not as much as I give myself credit for. But Agent Bailey appreciates the security around the house."

"She also appreciates that you built her an office with a daybed," Alex points out, smirking a little as he leans into his soulmate's side.

"I figured it was the least we could do." Marcus huffs. "The house is completely secure and that way whoever is with us can catch a nap."

“Step up, little brother.” Teasing between the six of you is natural, but of course it’s heaviest between the three siblings. “When you move out of the White House, make sure you have an extra bedroom for your agent.”

Alex snorts and shakes his head. "I'm honestly hoping that by that time, I can opt out of agents."

“I have to be honest…” As you walk, you glance back at the lagging agents and back at your siblings. “I’m pretty sure Mom exaggerated the mandatory part of our protection detail to us. But a lot of people were mad about the first female President being elected and I get how she would want us protected.”

"Yeah, I know." Alex snorts, shooting you a grin. "I looked up the rules before the detail ever was assigned." He admits with a shrug. "It gives her peace of mind and it's one less thing she has to worry about while she's busy being the most important person in the U.S."

“Maybe we’ll ask her to ease up next term.” Junie theorizes, shrugging as the group of you reach your cars. “Maybe not. By then, Birdie and Marcus will have produced at least one or two First Grandbabies, so she might double down on them and let me and Alex off the hook.”

"No." Marcus shakes his head. "We aren't going to have agents follow the babies around. I don't even think that's allowed for a protection detail."

“He’s joking.” David assures him, nudging his soulmate toward the car with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"Follow you?" Marcus asks Dave as he opens the passenger door for you. Agent Bailey had followed in her car since Marcus's car is a government vehicle with the appropriate plates. It gives you just a few more moments of privacy.

“Yup.” The younger man nods and then tilts his head to June and Dylan as well. “It’s not far. Be there in no time.”

As soon as Marcus climbs in beside you, he asks the question while he's buckling his seatbelt. "So where do you think we are going?" He asks. "It's odd, right? Going off after dinner like this?"

"It's a little weird," you admit, buckling in as Marcus pulls out of the White House driveway behind your brother and his soulmate. "But more like a callback than anything else. When we would have big family dinners back in Philly, sometimes we would all go out after and shoot the shit somewhere. Usually in somebody's backyard or we'd go out to the suburbs where we knew we could find a pond or something to sit and stargaze. Our parents never minded as long as we all stuck together and didn't do anything illegal."

He hums, wondering if Alex and David just want to have a moment with Alex's siblings and their soulmates. Maybe they wanted to plan something for your mom and dad's anniversary. He knows there's nothing malicious, so he just follows the car in front of him and snorts at the six car motorcade that is winding through the city.

The National Mall is largely deserted when your little parade arrives well after dark on this arbitrary August night. There are very few people around, and none at all at the base of the Washington Monument when David pulls his car to a stop and everyone else follows suit behind him.

"The Washington Monument?" Marcus puzzles as he puts the car into park and glances at you, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Interesting."

"Don't look at me," you shrug, but point out the windshield where David and Alex have climbed out of their car already. "This is it, though."

You and Marcus join and equally confused Junie and Dylan, unsure of what the plan is as David shuffles you all together and towards the monument.

"So..." Alex starts, looking around at the confused group of you with a grin. "You're probably wondering why we brought you out here at night instead of when the Monument is actually open, but I promise it makes sense."

“Marcus and Dylan are new to this." David acknowledges, looking at the other two men. The other two soulmates to the First Kids. His adopted brothers in arms in a way that no one else can ever quite understand. "But when we were growing up, we used to stargaze all the time. And a couple of weeks ago...the night after Birdie's bridal shower...we were sitting out here after dark and we got to talking."

Alex shuffles slightly and reaches for his soulmate's hand. "David and I have decided to come out, officially." He tells you, a small - but determined - smile on his face. He's nervous, of course he is, but he's also tired of denying his love for the boy he will spend the rest of his life with. It's not fair to either of them.

"Oh my god..." June breathes, lighting up just a split second before you squawk the same words in a much more exuberant, excited tone.

"Oh my god, oh my GOD!" Both sisters sprint forward to wrap their arms around Alex and David, squeaking and babbling and giggling in absolute glee. The thing that has made their brother unhappy the most consistently in his life is staying in the closet – and that time is finally ending.

Marcus and Dylan hang back, allowing the siblings to smother the couple in affection before moving in with hugs and handshakes of their own. "Congratulations on making that decision." Marcus murmurs, knowing that sometimes doing the right thing is the hardest thing. "We will be right there beside you, for anything you need."

"You guys have been dealing with plenty of media bullshit over the last year and a half." David shakes Marcus's hand gratefully. "Any advice you have would be appreciated and valued."

Marcus chuckles, knowing that is the absolute truth. "Anytime. I would be glad if you and Alex don't have to go through any of that bullshit."

"Whatever comes our way, we want to try to be the best examples we can be for other people who have been afraid to be themselves." For as long as David has been thinking about this, personally, he's grateful to be surrounded by so much support. "It's...it's a lot to think about. And to process. But I think we're finally ready."

"That is great." Marcus grins, loving how completely besotted you look at the two of them as you squeeze Alex again. You have worried about him, often sounding out those worries to Marcus and this has to be a relief for you.

"Oh god, are you crying?" Alex huffs at you, trying to diffuse his own emotional reaction by teasing you about yours. You're both wiping at your faces anyway so it's all even in the end. "Of course I am!" And you're not even sorry about it either, as you squeeze both of your brother's cheeks in your hands. "I'm so proud of you that I don't even know if I can think of an insult to temper it right now."

"I didn't think it would garner this dramatic of a reaction." David jokes, moving over to Alex and slightly pulling him away from you. "But since the tears have already started...." He grins and one hand flicks away the tears under his soulmate's eye and he sighs softly. "There's another reason why I brought you out here."

"Please tell me it's to teach my sister that tears are contagious," Alex jokes, not sensing the deep tonal shift that is rippling through the group, starting with David.

David laughs, once again struck by how perfect Alex is. His thumb rubs the back of his hand and he shakes his head. "No. Something more important than that." He reveals. He doesn't look around to make sure that no one is watching. The area is deserted and he knows that he would rather this moment be more about just pure love and joy than looking over his shoulder. He smiles as he shifts down to one knee in front of his soulmate. "I need to ask you a question."

"Oh my god." He might be the last of the three siblings to say the phrase in the last three minutes, but when Alex gasps his hand goes over his heart and he looks down at David in utter shock.

“We have know that we are soulmates for so long, long before I ever truly understood what the word meant.” David tells him. “You’ve been my best friend, my confidant, my shoulder to cry on, my very best and worst secret. But there’s never been a day that I haven’t loved you.” Reaching into his pocket, David pulls out a ring box and opens it to show Alex a beautiful wood and tungsten ring that has a single diamond in the center. “Will you marry me?”

The air is sucked out of the whole group as Alex works to compose himself. You and June clutch each other's hands as well as your soulmates', and Alex gulps at least four times in a silence that draws longer and longer the more he tries to hold back tears and try to think of the right thing to say. Finally he just bursts out a "YES" and lunges for David, wrapping his soulmate up in his arms and claiming a kiss as he shakes with the joy and surprise of the moment.

David laughs into the kiss, holding Alex close and his own tears of joy slip out. He had honestly had thoughts at times that they would never be here and even if their parents aren’t, he had wanted to share this with you and Junie. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” He always has. Since before Alex knew what love meant, he knew he was completed irrevocably by this boy — this boy who has grown up into a thoughtful and keen-minded man that he is proud of and hated having to deny. “I love you.” He repeats, the tears streaking down his face as they stand up together, still clinging to each other and the moment.

Marcus’s phone is used to capture the moment discreetly, having figured out what it was and pulled it out quickly. He knows that they will want it later on.

You and June are jittery on an inhuman level, practically dancing in place as David slides the ring onto Alex’s finger and steps back. He’s all laughs as the three of you fling your arms around each other and cling to each other in another moment of shared joy.

“You’re next.” Alex warns Junie, practically beaming bright enough to light up the night. “Only one of us left now.”

“We’ll let you two wackos get it out of the way first,” she laughs, sniffling as she squeezes both of her big siblings. “We’re just apartment hunting. No rings yet.”

“Apartments lead to sex on every surface. Sex on every surface leads to babies.” Marcus teases, grinning broadly.

“And they can have their life and as many babies as they want without getting married,” you remind him, smirking up at your fiancé and grinning. He’s so close to being your husband. Just a few more weeks until the wedding. “If that’s what they want. Just like we want to get married, and so do Alex and David.”

“Of course they can. Notice I didn’t say anything about marriage.” He teases right back and pulls you close. “Although I’m desperate to be married to you.”

“Four weeks.” The hum in your voice is practically a pure as you lean up to nudge his nose with yours. “Just one little month left.”

“And we still don’t have a single clue about our stag parties.” He huffs, cutting his eyes over at your sister and brother with their respective soulmates. Everyone is apparently in on the secrecy for both parties. He had laughed when you had pouted about not knowing and then he had found out that Juan wouldn’t say a thing about his own party.

“And you’re just as frustrated as I am, even after teasing me.” You tilt your head back and leave a kiss on his cheek, grinning the whole time. “Whatever they have planned, they’re keeping State secrets like pros.”

“CIA level secrets.” Marcus snorts. “Your mom I understand, but I don’t get why it’s so secret.”

"They're having fun with it." And given your love of secrets, you honestly are too. You may jokingly call it torture to be left out of the loop, but it's all in good fun. The playful delight of having absolutely no idea what it expect is actually pretty fun.

“Yes they are.” He grins as he enjoys the sparkle in your eyes. “We will be finding out soon.”

"The thing is, sweet Con..." you have a tendency to talk softly to your goddaughter when you're carrying her around, and babysitting is a time when you frequently have her strapped to your chest as you pick up around Sydney and Juan's house so they can come home to an even cleaner place. Sometimes – like today – you'll do a bit of cooking or baking too. There's muffins in the oven so that your best friends can have snacks or breakfast ready and waiting for them when they have crazy mornings with their almost-one-year-old. "The thing is, midterm elections are stickier than your hands after you play in applesauce. So things are going to get very interesting."

“Hey babe, I’m back.” Marcus opens the door and lifts the bag, the diapers secured. There had been a recall on the ones his goddaughter wore and when Syd had called you, he had immediately gone out to get some new ones. “We can change diapers again.”

"Yaaaaayyyy!" You cheer in the most hushed tone possible, waving Constance's little hand in the air. She'd curled her fingers around one of yours and held on tight. "Thank you, love."

“No problem.” He grins and winks at both you and the baby. Constance likes Marcus and giggles when he comes closer. “Is she ready for one, or still good?”

"She's still good for now. No bombs while you were out, thank goodness." With her hand around your finger, you make Constance wave and the baby giggles again. She really does love Marcus.

“That’s good.” He lifts up the second bag. “I also picked up dinner. I know you are baking, but I figured we deserved some take out.”

"Ooo, what kind of take out?" With the baby held tight to your chest, you rock her a little bit as you follow Marcus into the kitchen and try to get a peek at the bag, but there is not a single logo in sight beyond the diapers.

“Figured we would change it up this time.” He waggles his brows. “Thai. And Chinese. They had this new fusion place that I saw.”

"I like that even when we change it up, we stick to Asian." While he starts unloading the bags, you keep your movement going, dancing around the room with Constance to keep her laughing. It's almost naptime, which is perfect timing. "Did I tell you I had a nightmare the other night where I couldn't tolerant Indian food while I was pregnant? Woke up terrified and craving tandoori lamb chops. Very confusing way to wake up."

“Ohhh is that why you begged me to pick up Indian on the way home on Wednesday?” He tilts his head and chuckles. “That is your version of hell.”

"It really is. Having food aversions to highly spiced foods or to chocolate will make me utterly miserable when the time comes." Constance pauses in her laughter to yawn and you look down at her, wrapping both hands around the baby at your chest. "I saw that sweet girl. Is it nap time, honey?"

“She’s so damn good.” He can’t help but melt at the sleepy baby, “why don’t I put her to bed and you can go through the food?”

"Perfect." It takes a little maneuvering to hand her over to Marcus, but she goes relatively easily. After her parents, you and Marcus are two of her favorite people. as her godparents you've been a constant presence in her life, two of her most regular babysitters, and two of the first faces that she learned. "I'll grab plates and we can load them up in here?"

“That works.” She snuggles into his chest and he sighs. Almost willing to suggest that you go off your birth control now even though you are only three weeks away from your wedding. “Come on, sweet girl.” He coos. “Let’s get you down for that nap.”

Five or so minutes later, Marcus is back downstairs with the baby cam link pulled up on his phone and Constance happily set down in her crib with her current favorite stuffed animal – the panda bear that Sydney's sister gave her when she was born.

“Why do I think that Constance is such a good baby, that Juan and Sydney will be trying for a sibling soon?” Marcus asks, patting your thigh as you watch the monitor for a moment with the most poignant yearning in your eyes.

“Syd wanted to wait a year before they tried again.” After the trauma associated with the birth of her first, you were honestly surprised Sydney only wanted to wait one year. “We’re almost to that mark, so I guess it could happen any time now.”

“Yeah.” He hums, hoping that the next one goes so much smoother for your best friend. Although, if it’s like last time, Juan has already said that will be the last child they have. He won’t risk his wife’s health anymore and Marcus can completely understand that.

“Let’s make our plates.” As much as you could sit here and stare at the baby monitor all evening, food is good and relaxing with Marcus is even better.

“Sure baby.” Since you are baby sitting, Marcus had forgone picking up a bottle of wine. While neither one of you had a problem with having some normally, it was better to be sober while caring for the little one. He stands up and offers you his hand. “Then we will stuff ourselves and find something to talk about.” He teases, knowing that it’s going to be wedding or honeymoon related. Both of you are way too excited to talk about anything else right now.

“Oh that will be so difficult to do,” you tease, happily accepting his hand and winding your own into it. “We never ever have anything to talk about.”

“Nothing at all.” He jokes. “No plans, no dreams, nothing.” The walk to the kitchen only takes a moment and he appreciates that you laid everything out. “Thanks babe.”

“You picked it up, this is the least I could do.” It only takes a few minutes to fill your plates and then you’re sitting down together at the neat little kitchen table with Marcus’s phone between you to keep an eye on the baby monitor. “I got an e-mail from the inn in Inverness, by the way.” Alright, apparently it’s honeymoon talk. “A little welcome note from the owner and suggestions of things to do or places to eat while we’re in town.”

“Oh?” He loves how accommodating they have been and he knows you will be thrilled to stay in a Scottish inn. “That is incredibly thoughtful of them. Any ideas you didn’t already have?” He smirks. “I know you want to go to those Outlander stones.”

“I got a few good ideas for visiting filming locations,” you admit, grinning at him guiltlessly. “And some recommendations for places the locals actually eat at, instead of all the tourist traps that I’ve been finding online.”

He snorts, knowing you have been doing a deep dive on where to go and what to see. It won’t be disappointing at all. “I know you will enjoy that. Taking lots of notes for Sydney.”

“I’m under orders.” Solemn ones, to take pictures and notes about foods you both try and fall in love with while you’re on your honeymoon. “Which reminds me, our dinner reservation at Shish Mahal is all set.” The Glasgow restaurant where tikka masala was first served had been declared a mandatory stop on your trip around Scotland.

“I know you are excited about that.” He grins. “Although I want to try Scottish pub food too.”

“That’s why I was glad to get the recommendations from the innkeeper.” You tell him excitedly. “So you can have plenty of old school Scottish food to feed your heritage.”

He nods, happy you are so excited about the honeymoon. It’s going to be an adventure for both of you. Despite his time in Europe, he’s never been to Scotland and neither have you, so it will be something you can both enjoy together.

“Can I…talk to you about something?” You glance over at him from watching the baby monitor, food almost entirely forgotten — almost, it smells and tastes amazing so you’re not going to forget it entirely.

“Absolutely.” Marcus knows that it won’t be anything bad. It’s just something that has obviously been milling around in your brain until you were ready to talk about it. “Hit me.”

It doesn’t require a deep breath, or concern, or any kind of worry. It’s just a gentle smile that creeps across your face like sun rays from behind a cloud. “I don’t want to wait anymore to start trying for a baby. The only reason I wanted to wait earlier was because my dress was fitted already…and we’re so close to the wedding. A few weeks won’t matter even if we’re lucky enough to get pregnant the first try.”

The food is forgotten and Marcus almost forgets how to breathe. “Are you sure?” He knows you are, but he always likes to double check. “I know I’m ready whenever you are.”

“I’ve been ready,” you admit, tucking your hand into his to hold onto him tightly. “I just didn’t want to throw a monkey wrench in our wedding when we’ve put so much work into the day.”

“Baby, I would not have cared if you were about to pop, but I know what you mean.” He rushes forward to kiss you. “When can you make the appointment?”

“I’ll call first thing in the morning and see when they can fit me in.” Of course he’s just as excited as you are. You didn’t expect anything less. “Hopefully it won’t take long.”

“The appointment or getting you pregnant?” He asks, smirking slightly at the activities that involve getting you to that condition.

“Yes.” You tease right back, poking Marcus in the side as you both laugh.

He waggles his brows playfully. “So that breeding kink can come out to play?”

“Full throttle.” And you won’t complain about it one single bit.

“Yesssssss.” He pumps a fist playfully even though he’s only half kidding. Just the idea of it has caused some extremely good nights rolling around in bed together.

“I didn’t think you would mind that.” You lift his hand to your lips to kiss his knuckles and laugh again. “I’m excited, baby. And I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too.” Marcus promises softly. “And I’m going to love the day I call you Mrs. Pike almost as much as the day you tell me you are pregnant.” He smiles. “Our dreams are coming true Hummingbird.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon   @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

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My Masterlist!

[leavemeslowly]

III. queen of peace

Pairing: Susie Glass x Edward Horniman

TV show: The Gentlemen (2024)

word count: 1472

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, not-super-graphic smut, love/hate? relationship

„The queen of peace

Always does her best to please

Is it any use?

Somebody’s gotta lose"

Susie and Eddie become partners, tell each other some dark truths and well… Susie listens to him against her better judgement.

Susie and Eddie stumbled into his office, laughing about something that Freddie shouted after them when they left the party happening in the living room.

Eddie closed the doors behind them and moved to the front of his desk where he hid a certain document. He handed Susie a blue fountain pen and asked her to sign. Naturally, not with her real signature because that could prove their professional relationship to the authorities. She signed with a doodle of a gun. He then drew a middle finger next to it. Their deal was done. They were in business, together.

„So, now we are equals?”, Eddie asked after he put the document inside of a safe hidden behind one of many paintings purchased by his father. Susie smiled enigmatically.

„Ta, I suppose we are. I will miss giving you orders."

"I am sure you will continue giving them anyway.” Eddie moved to a mini bar and poured them drinks. She smiled at him, thinking that he was probably right. Susie also knew that he will be more than happy to take them.

“Any plans what you want to do first?” She asked when he gave her a full glass.

“No”, She lifted her eyebrows. “I mean I do, but not today. Anyone ever told you, you are a workaholic?”

That is why she appreciated his companionship. He wasn’t afraid to challenge her and say it as it was.

“No.” Her expression changed to a more serious one. "Everyone else is too scared to tell me the truth."

“I am not afraid of you.” He searched for her eyes and his voice softened as if there was another dimension to his words. „I know what you are capable of when I pushed you. I have learnt my lesson.”

Susie sat in an armchair behind his desk and looked very pleased with herself taking his place.

„When I told Gospel the truth about his brother what led to his visit on your estate, I did it because you lied to me. I was angry at you, Eddie. It was personal. Don’t betray me again.”

Eddie nodded and moved closer to her. He leaned on his desk when looking down on her and not knowing how to respond to her confession. Admittedly, he was surprised by it. She sounded hurt rather than angry but he didn’t pointed that out aloud.

„I told Johnston, back when I still considered his support that I do not want any of your family members hurt. Of course, you too, Susie.” He paused to catch her eye and ensure she understands. „I don’t want to fight.” She looked up and met his eyes with openness he wasn’t prepared for.

„Is there anything you want then?”

„You know I want a lot of things.” He answered vaguely but not without understanding the hints she was dropping. „And it is all your fault.”

„Oh, really? I don’t think it is, Edward. I think you have always wanted it all. Military, this whole protector of your family act were meant to conceal your ambition. You don’t have to hide from me. We have already showed each other our darkest colours.”

Eddie was blindsided by her words that caused all of his pretences to tumble and crush into pieces. She stripped him of his defences with few punctuated words. Susie knew it and couldn’t contain her smirk of satisfaction.

“Always so smug, aren’t you?” Eddie countered gracelessly. She rolled her eyes and raised from her seat. Her words were the first loud declaration of his deepest and most sinister thoughts. “You don’t what to hear what I have to say?”

“No, not particularly.”

Eddie knew better so raised to his height and looked down on her. Her perfume lingered around him and the truth was he was under her spell not other way around. Nevertheless, he will try to even out the odds.

“You have it all, right? You are immaculate in protecting your empire but not for yourself, not really. For your brother, your father. You have a fucked up notion of obligation from which you can’t free yourself. You should want something just for you, Susie. Something substantial because I know you are not easily satisfied. Is there anything you would want? Anything I can give you, perhaps?”

Susie’s expression changed but she still was almost rigid. She had her head slightly tilted so she could gaze on his face. Finally, she slowly leaned in. Her hand landed on his lapel.

“You have no idea what you are asking for.”

He inched closer to her face and slowly, testing the waters, placed his hand on her cheek. Susie shivered at his touch, probably because of a coldness of his signet. Her eyelashes fluttered when she felt his breath on her lips. Eddie wanted to ruin her perfectly painted red lipstick which tempted him so many times before. He knew it will happen but the wait was crushing.

“Come on, Susie, tell me. What is that you want?” He caressed her cheek trying to encourage her to relax. “Should I give you an idea?”

He noticed the way her throat bobbed trying to mute any unwanted sounds. It was satisfying, going exactly in the direction he imagined.

“You should just kiss me, Edward, and stop teasing. For your own good.” Susie regained her old self and an ounce of self-composure.

Her words were like a sound of a gun being fired. Eddie crushed his lips to her. She immediately responded with need he didn’t anticipate. Still, her taste, her small noises were like magic. Until this moment, he didn’t realise how much he missed closeness and simplicity of a touch. This need was pathetic. He called out Susie on her weaknesses but he wasn’t better when he turned them around and pinned her to his desk and manoeuvred her to sit on it.

„You do justice to your family name, Eddie” Susie mumbled between their kisses. If he could, he would roll his eyes but just laughed, too busy kissing down her throat. Her fingers slipped into his hair, tugging it and he could not contain his moan. „So you like it like that? Not so tough anymore."

„You are talking too much, Susan.” Eddie raised his gaze to her stormy eyes. She slowly smiled but could not conceal desire looming there.

Her fingers slowly circled his tie and pulled it forcing him to kiss her again, but slower, according to her own want. She took it off and untucked first buttons of his shirt. Eddie's hands roamed over her back, then down her things and back up under he vest. Suddenly, she almost sobbed into his mouth. He discovered she wasn’t wearing anything under it so his cold fingers came into contact with her bare skin.

Her jacket dropped to the floor next. Before she could react, Eddie was moving her to stand in front of him and brace her palms on the desk. He wanted to evaporate her thoughts, end her worries and let her finally relax. He pressed himself to her back and she moaned feeling him tall and unyielding.

It was right how she fitted between his arms, almost a head lower and staring up into his eyes. Her own were glazed with pure want that if necessary would send Eddie to another war. He touched her jaw to draw her to him and kiss her thoroughly while his other hand embraced hers. Their fingers intertwined and she gasped when his hand slid down her throat to slowly embrace her breast and pleasure her with his touch. He observed her opened mouth and small cries she let out.

„Eddie, it is too much.”

„So do you know now what you want?” He was teasing but he needed her to voice her desires. Perhaps, it was not strictly necessary knowing his own desperate craving but he wanted her to have it burned in her memory. That it was her own decision to fuck him and let him close enough to see her vulnerability. He did not want regrets and another cause for war.

„Eddie...” She didn’t want to admit it aloud. Still, she tried to express it when he forced her to look at him and saw her eyelids half closed and felt her slow grinding against him.

„Say it, Susie, God, please say it.” He was slowly losing a fight he began when she on the other hand was regaining control. It was her turn to foreshadow all the things she could do to him. Against his better judgement, he clutched her thigh and finally pushed into her ass. Not expecting that, she abruptly tilted her head back onto his arm and thrusted back with more fierceness.

„Yes, Eddie, yes, do your worst."