#the shoes in the first drawing was the hardest part for some reason

[anappleadaydoesnotkeepmeaway]

I've seen so much teto stuff everywhere she's taking over my brain (ill probably finish that drawing some time later)

I tried making it look old and low quality and stuff, didn't really go well

[alpacaroni-and-cheese]

Leah, Fatin and Choice.

Not to wax lyrical about a TV show that was cancelled over two years ago, but The Wilds is pretty good, actually.

All 8 of the main characters (yes, eight, the boys don't count) are some of the most complex, layered and interesting characters I've ever seen. Each of them, on a surface level, seem to be one-dimensional.

Shelby, for example, is the goody-two shoes Christian flawless pageant queen. But she isn't, not really. She's a closeted, anxious mess, who is about one or two mental breakdowns away from shaving her head at any given time. She cares far too deeply, leaving her heart exposed and vulnerable.

Or take Rachel; on the outside, she's hard on everyone, angry and resentful, and bound for diving for America in the next Olympics. But in reality, she's burnt out. She might be hard on everyone around her, but she's hardest on herself. She suffers from bulimia, brought on by a few ill-advised words from her diving coach, and isn't even on the team anymore. She is angry, and she is resentful, but I think she has good reason to be. So when she does release that anger, it's an inspiration for us all.

You can do this kind of analysis with all of the characters, but the two I want to focus on in particular are Leah and Fatin.

Leah, the boring, ordinary, average girl from the Bay, who thinks too much and leaps before she looks.

That doesn't even scratch the surface of who Leah is.

She's whip-smart, and not in the "knows the first 20 digits of pi" Hollywood style of smart. She notices things and tucks them away in her brain until she has a moment to herself where she can ruminate, drawing connections where maybe there aren't any, and draw conclusions based partly on evidence and partly on a near-infallible trust for her gut.

She analyses. Not in the (BBC) Sherlock kind of way where she just magics up the answer out of thin air, but in her own way. She sees something is out of place, and digs around in the rocks and dirt, bloodying her fingers and knees until she can figure out what's wrong.

She gets taken advantage of by a man far older than her, and lies about her age so he'd sleep with her. She's hopelessly, helplessly tied to this pathetic man, every aspect of her life tethered to him. So when he finds out the truth and removes every part of her from his life, she is left drowning in his wake. She clings to the book he wrote and the sick annotations he left for her like it's a lifeline, when it's actually pulling her further beneath the waves.

Leah broods, she ruminates and she analyses, until something gives way.

She runs headlong into walls until either they break, or she does.

Next, let's talk about Fatin.

Promiscuous, princess-y Fatin, who's never done a day's hard work in her life.

In 1x05, Fatin runs away from the group. In 1x04, she was (metaphorically and a little bit physically, albeit accidentally) mauled by Leah. Her soft underbelly exposed and prodded. The others have all made judgements on her character, and in their eyes she has come up short. So, she chooses to remove herself from the equation, and runs away, like a thief in the night.

She finds a waterfall, practically saving all of them from dying slowly of thirst. And Leah, who pushed her, shoved her, rejected her last episode, spearheads the campaign to find her, after a little encouragement and wake-up call from Dot.

Fatin is not used to forgiveness. We see her mother let things go, but her mistakes are not forgiven, and most certainly not forgotten. Her hurt is minimised and dismissed by her mother, so she turns to her father for support. He is her best friend and confidant. He always has her side.

But then she discovers the photos. Her father has been cheating with lots of women over a long period of time. He has been lying to and betraying their family for years. She lashes out and chooses to send his nudes to everyone in his contact list, not thinking it through properly. When this is inevitably drawn back to her, her father turns on her, and her mother just sits and watches.

She isn't familiar with forgiveness, so when Leah offers it to her the first time she chooses to willingly accept it, offering it back in turn.

Leah makes the choice to burn Jeff's book, severing the tether holding her beneath the water. She's free, and can breathe.

Fatin becomes her confidant, listening to Leah's theories about the island and offering reasonable explanations for what's going on, and it works for a while.

But Leah becomes obsessed with the island. She's convinced something is wrong, and works herself to the bone to discover the truth, at the expense of her own safety and sanity.

Fatin reaches out to her, tries to wade through the darkness clouding Leah's thoughts and pull her back into the light.

But she fails.

When Leah runs into the ocean, desperate to find a way out, Fatin can do nothing but watch. Rachel overcomes her fear of the water and drags Leah back to the beach. Dot wants to sedate her, just to be safe, but Fatin refuses. Leah's had enough choices taken away from her, so she lets Leah choose.

Fatin, who knows how damaging it is to have your autonomy stolen, gives Leah this choice. Fatin, who knows Leah had many decisions made for her in the past, lets her decide for herself. She lets Leah make the choice to live.

[jenerousjenocide]

Familiar Face

Chapter two leggo Chapter 1 - AO3 Mirror

If finding a dress hadn't been the hardest part of the day, bringing yourself to leave your room at the inn definitely deemed to be the most difficult. 

After hours of searching you finally were able to navigate the city well enough to track down a dress maker closer to gates of the Upper City. It should have been obvious that any store selling fancy clothing would be low on stock considering how the party was such a big topic among citizens when you were trying to find your way around. The shopkeeper did seem a little exhausted from how many clients they have likely catered to throughout the day, but they assisted you nonetheless with your quest to find something reasonable enough to show up to a masquerade in. 

After skimming through the limited options, you did land on something that caught your eye. 

A black and gold floor length gown, the sleeves sheer enough to allow some skin to peek through. The plunging neckline wasn't your favorite, in fact you were more awe struck by the low cut back, but when the shopkeeper insisted it was 'all the rage these days' you really didn't feel like you had much of a choice.

Standing in front of the mirror with it on, you felt like you were someone else. You realized you hadn't noticed the slit up the thigh in the store, but decide it's rather alluring the way your leg peeks out with every step you take. You spent some time pinning your hair up instead of allowing it to cascade down your back or in braids as usual, figuring if you were going to wear something backless you might as well show it off. The shoes you'll need to get used to, feeling as though you're walking on stilts for the first time, but it was offered up as a gift to go along with the dress, how could you refuse?

You finally catch your own eyes in the mirror, the uncertainty painting your face as you debated your next steps. You could practically hear your mother scolding you in the back of your mind about how dangerous it is to wander into the city so blind, much less the palace owned by the very Lord that resides over the city. For a moment, you detest the way your eyes remind you of her, having heard your entire life how you got your mother's eyes.

No, I have to do this. To hells with it.

You draw in a slow breath, an attempt to slow your heart rate as you finally reach for your black eye mask, secure it to your head and finally leave your room.

You've fought gnolls and goblins growing up, yet the thing having you shaking in your heels was a silly little party. 

You had the day to find your way to the palace, recognizing all of the backroads to take in order to avoid the crowd as much as possible. You did wait until nightfall before venturing out to ensure you weren't stuck waiting for the doors to fly open the moment sundown hit. Your current effort to walk in heels might be pathetic, but you weren't going to be waiting at the door like a rabid fan pathetic.

The palace stood before you like nothing you have ever seen before. There was an aura on it you couldn't quite place, it felt like you wanted to escape your own skin and run home before you could even step foot inside- Regardless, you push on. Climbing the steps to the giant wooden doors standing at the entrance, already open and the hum of music can be heard from the ballroom further down the main hall. There are people strung about laughing, drinking and enjoying the company of others. You note that not only do the party goers have their masks on, but so do the staff. You suppose for something called a midnight masquerade they really do take it seriously. 

Your heart pangs in your chest and you draw in another slow breath, not allowing the anxiety to show as you walked through the front doors and down the hall lined with extravagant sculptures and protected artifacts that look older than time itself.    

You watch through your mask as people dance and mingling on the dancefloor of the ballroom further down the hall, their clothes just as extravagant as the decorations lining the palace themselves. It would seem everyone took this night very seriously indeed, especially after learning it happened on the same night every year from eavesdropping during your prior adventures. 

Your footsteps slow to a halt as you stand at the doors of the ballroom, taking in the beautiful decorations, a full buffet of the finest foods you could only dare imagine and among them some of the most beautiful people you have ever seen.

Granted the masks can be deceiving, but it's amazing how it brings a sense of mystery to all of it.

You follow along the wall to the side, debating quietly to head towards the buffet first or if you should scope out the area first before making any decisions. 

Your eyes trail among the dancing bodies and some wandering hands, wondering quietly if this is some weird sex party you've heard about from some of your family friends during late night conversations when you should have been in bed. You shake off the memories, finally landing on the head of the room- A grand throne at the center of it almost as though it was on a pedestal. Although it wasn't necessarily the furniture that drew all of your attention.

There sat a bored looking man, a pale elf with his chin in his palm as he watched the party unfold in front of him. His wild white curls adorned his head, clashing against the dark purple color of the mask covering his eyes. You can see the way his lips seem to curl into a frown, as if unimpressed with the extravagance of the evening itself. 

It only took half a second to deduct he must be Lord Astarion.

The next half you realized he was staring back at you.

It was as though as shiver ran down your spine, you could barely catch the color of his eyes from this distance and yet it felt as though it shot electricity through you. The moment your eyes met you were drawn to him, and when you finally forced yourself to look away, the feeling faded.

Strange.

You shook it off, it must be the nerves, and he's absolutely entitled to look upon the guests that have entered his home.

However the thought that he noticed you staring first made you uneasy, noting it's probably best to keep your eyes to yourself for now. You just wanted to blend in and have some memories to share when you get home and despite your parents disapproval of leaving home in the first place, but still inevitably ask for every detail you can offer up. 

With that you found the courage to move your feet, walking over to the buffet table and looking over the drink selection.

You grab a golden goblet, inspecting the contents of the liquid before recognizing it as wine and take a slow sip.

Dry, rich, definitely not any wine you're used to having back home.

"My, aren't you a pretty young thing that wandered in?"

The sultry voice nearly makes you jump where you stand, spinning around on your heel to see the very eyes that sent a shiver down your spine.

"I don't believe I've seen you before, a traveler?" Astarion's lips curled into a smile, leaning in closer with a tilt of his head, obviously expecting an answer. 

It took way too long to find your voice, but you're surprised it wasn't reflecting how fast your heart was beating.

"Just making my way through, I saw the invitations and I was curious." You manage to get out, bringing your other hand to hold the goblet and steady yourself to prevent from shaking. "My apologies if outsiders are not welcome."

"Nonsense, I welcome anyone and everyone into my home this evening. I would have been insulted had I found out someone like you was in town and decided not to come by for some fun." His eyes flicked behind his mask over you, taking in your dress, your posture, trailing back up your neck and back into your eyes.

It was then you realized his eyes were red. 

"I welcome you to my humble abode, please make yourself comfortable." He practically purred, reaching down to take a hand into his and raising it up to press his lips against your knuckles. 

It was gentle, soft and quick, but you noted how cold his lips felt against your flesh. 

Before you could open your mouth to reply, he was already slinking away, potentially busying himself with ensuring everything was in order.

You felt like he had taken the air right out of your lungs, the feelings of his lips still lingering on your hand as it falls back to your side and you are left completely dumbfounded.

You're pretty sure the Lord of Baldur's Gate is a Vampire.

Honestly you're not too sure why that was the first deduction that came to your mind, but you've seen those eyes before, you're absolutely sure of it. 

It took a moment to realize you were holding your breath, finally forcing the air back out and bringing yourself back to reality. If he is a vampire and you've wandered into a vampires home, you're probably in a lot more trouble than you first believed. It doesn't seem as though it is common knowledge among the other citizens dancing about without a care in the world.

If it is a secret, you're definitely not going to be the one to pull the alarm. 

You raise the goblet back up to your lips, chugging back the rich wine in one quick gulp before setting the empty cup down on the table and wander out of the ballroom to make your escape. 

Perhaps the buzz of the wine hit you a bit too quickly with your efforts to down the drink in one motion, the haziness swarming your head as though you haven't had a drink in your entire life. 

No, you recognize this feeling. It reminds you of the experimental concoctions you made growing up to prove to your father that you had a knack for crafting potions. 

Of course the wine would be charmed. 

Your parents would be so thoroughly disappointed in you.

It was like everything was moving in slow motion, along with a rose colored shade now illuminating everything in sight. You can't bring yourself to leave, staring at the front doors as you internally fight yourself to just walk forward, go back to your room at the tavern, sleep off the effects of whatever was added to the wine and finally go home.

"Don't tell me you were thinking of leaving." A voice drawled out next to you, half expecting to see Astarion once more, you noted the way your heart sank meeting the gaze of a different pale man behind a dark mask. "The party is only getting started."

"I think I-" You choke, your legs beginning to feel weak. "I think I just need some air."

"Come now, don't play hard to get." The man took another step closer, causing you to move away until your back hits the wall behind you. "I can't let someone as delicious as you get away that easily."

Okay, now you definitely know this is a vampires monastery. 

He flashes a toothy grin, the sharp edges of his fangs catching in the light and you aren't even sure if they're bothering to keep it a secret at this point. However with the drinks being charmed, they probably have no reason to if they threw this event to ensure they get as many unsuspecting necks as possible.

He had already begun to lean in close to you, and you brought up your hands to press against his chest and try to discreetly keep him at bay. His smile faltered, looking down at your hands and back at you with a confused crossing his face, as though you should be enthralled with the fact he's invading your personal space without your consent.

"I do usually enjoy a challenge," He growled, reaching up to grip your wrist with a tight squeeze. "But we've waited all year for this, so if this needs to be done the hard way, I have no problem spilling some blood."

"Lawrence."

You both froze, feeling the grip on your wrist immediately let go and it was like he had been shot with electricity the way he jolted away from you. You're both met with Astarion standing at the entrance of the ballroom, hand on his hip and his eyes focused on the man you were sure was about to murder you without a second thought. 

"You forget your manners, it seems. I have no problem reminding you of them." His tone shifted to a threat, dropping low and causing Lawrence to visibly shake where he stood. 

"I've been too eager, my apologies, my Lord." He quickly stammered, ducking his head in a bow and scampering away behind a curtain further down the hall, disappearing out of sight entirely.

A complete shift from the confident man that first approached you.

"My family forgets themselves at times, my sincerest apologies if he startled you." Astarion offers, stepping away from the door and giving you a look over as if to inspect you for any damage. "I must admit, he does have taste."

"If you think some charmed wine and sweet nothings whispered in my ear is going to be enough to drink my blood, you definitely have the wrong girl." You suddenly spat back, placing your hands behind you to steady yourself against the wall. "With all the stories I've heard, I should have figured I was walking into vampire territory."

"Aren't you the perceptive one." He hummed, looking far more entertained with your response than you expected. "You haven't even been here all that long and you've figured that out. You're definitely not from around here."

"Like I said, I was just passing through." You try to push yourself off the wall, finding it hard to steady yourself on your own two feet with every passing moment. "I think it's time I head out, but thank you so much for the... interesting evening."

"You don't look like you can walk two steps forward much less through town to whatever gaudy tavern you have for yourself in the city." His smile falters slightly, his eyes catching yours and it felt like your heart was about to explode out of your chest. "We have plenty of space here, why don't you lie down for a bit?"

"And leave my neck open for the taking? Only an idiot would accept that." 

Suddenly your knees buckle beneath you, fully expecting to crumble on the floor until you feel two arms wind around you to keep you up. You could feel Astarion's breath near your ear, he was so dangerously close and you're pretty sure he could hear your heart pounding in your chest.

"I assure you nobody will come searching for a late night snack," He replied, laughing slightly at your efforts to stand up and resist his help. "You have my word."

Your limbs felt like jelly, you could barely see straight much less focus on navigating the streets to get yourself home. You know it would be more dangerous to leave in the state you were in, not even knowing the dangers you could face were you to collapse in the middle of the street.

He took your silence as an answer, leaning down and sweeping his arm under your knees to pick you up off the ground. Your hands grip onto the front of his vest, the sudden motion of being lifted up causing your head to spin faster.

As he began to walk, everything surrounding you began to fade, the music now drowned out with the sound of your own heart beating in your ears. 

The people around you were somehow no longer there, the elaborate decorations fading out of focus as well. 

You forced yourself to look up, the last thing you manage to see was a pair of sharp fangs smiling down at you and piercing red eyes boring into your soul before all remaining was lost to darkness.

[meiliarotten]

Team Fortress 2 Kinktober Time

Day 13: Leather Polish (Boot Worship)

🔞MINORS DNI🔞

Pairings: Medic x Fem!Reader

Summary: Medic’s boots. That’s all.

Tags: Boot worship, boot licking, dom/sub, praise

Word Count: 1.9k

The Masterlist

You had always found that distinct footwear was alluring to you. Other aspects of attire also helped, of course, but for some reason the shoes were always your first point of focus. A nice pair of dress shoes could be tempting to you, but above all, you were most passionate about boots. A pair of nice boots could lure you in and fluster you beyond all reason. However, this had always been something you kept to yourself.

But now, you were in a relationship with Medic. A man whose job had him almost always clad in a uniform that involved a most striking pair of black leather boots. How could you possibly resist?

It was late, and the other mercenaries had long since settled down for the night or gone out drinking in celebration of a victorious battle. In Medic’s private quarters, you had already stripped him of his coat and vest, palming at his chest. His hands traveled down your body. You were already stripped down to your underwear, much more exposed than he was. Medic was about to kick off his boots when, in a moment of sudden bravery, you spoke up.

“Wait!” You said, your nerves making you speak a bit louder than you meant to. Medic paused, looking down at you with some concern.

“Is something wrong, liebling?” He asked. Your hesitation returned, and you nervously clasped your hands together as you tried to find your words again.

“This might sound a bit weird, but,” you trailed off, glancing almost involuntarily down at the boots. “Could you… keep the boots on?”

Medic followed your gaze, soon realizing what you wanted. He grinned wickedly, already planning for how to make the most out of your apparent affinity.

“Ah, I understand.” His knowing look made you go red. Still, you were glad that he seemed to like the idea. Asking really was the hardest part, and you had gotten it over with. Now, for the fun part.

You were taken firmly by the chin. Medic easily fell into the role of an assertive dom. You, likewise, were more than willing to allow him to manipulate your body and take whatever he wanted from you.

“I’ll keep them on, but only if you’re nice and obedient for me. For now though, I think I’ll give you a look at them up close ,” Medic said, taking you by the hair and pulling slightly before pushing your head down. You kneeled down to the ground in front of him. You couldn’t hide the way your eyes lit up as you were able to examine the fine leather up close.

“You really do like them, don’t you?” Medic obviously noted the spark of lust in your gaze. “If only I had known this earlier. I would have had so much fun finding new ways to make you squirm.”

You managed to tear your gaze away from the footwear, looking back up at Medic. Wide eyed, like an eager puppy awaiting a command, you asked him, “What would you like me to do?”

He paused for a moment, looking you over as he pondered his next command. An idea finally came to him. He took a moment to thank his luck that he had happened to polish his boots just earlier that day. They were nice and clean for you to admire to the fullest. It also meant that his next order wouldn’t be too challenging for you to carry out.

“I take good care of these, you know,” Medic tapped the toe of one of his boots on the floor to draw your attention. “I take great pains to keep them in near perfect condition. In fact, they were cleaned earlier today. However, perhaps you could get them even cleaner, meine liebe?”

Medic took a few steps back to sit on the bed, beckoning you forward as he did so. You didn’t need any further implications. You got the message immediately, and you were more than eager to obey. Crawling forward, you bent your head down and began to lick, savoring the earthy taste and scent of fine leather.

“Gott im Himmel, you’re practically drooling,” Medic observed you with a short laugh, even as his pants became uncomfortably tight at the sight of you lapping eagerly before him. You continued to concentrate whole heartedly on your task, running your tongue along the length of the boot, even kissing it every so often until Medic pulled away, offering you the opposite boot. Of course, you wasted no time repeating the process to the tune of Medic’s praises.

“You look ravishing like that, kneeling before me, so ready to serve,” he said, reaching down at one point to stroke your hair like a prized pet.

While you would have been content to stay on your knees and polish those boots for hours, your own arousal was becoming unbearable. Unconsciously, you dipped a hand into your underwear, hoping to sate it.

“Nein, none of that!” The sharp command startled you, and you immediately removed your hand.

“I’m sorry sir,” you whimpered, ceasing your actions for just a moment in order to apologize. You looked up at Medic hesitantly to see him deep in thought once again, no doubt thinking up some kind of punishment. Or so you thought. To your surprise, his gaze softened, and he smiled down at you mercifully.

“It’s alright, liebchen. I never said you couldn’t pleasure yourself. I just didn’t specify exactly how you were allowed to do so,” he explained. You watched, tilting your head in confusion as he shifted forward to sit right at the edge of the bed, a hand reaching out to grip your hair again. “Sit up on your knees and spread your legs.”

You obeyed immediately, although you were still a bit bemused. Medic’s methods soon became clear when he positioned one of his boots underneath you, angling it so that the toe box pointed upwards. The instep was right below your crotch. It was a clear invitation.

“No hands, and don’t take your undergarments off just yet,” Medic said, chuckling as you began to realize exactly what he wanted you to do. “Go on and prove how much you love these boots of mine.”

You nodded, grasping his leg and beginning to grind your hips down. You moaned at the feeling of the leather against you, even if you were only feeling it through your soaked underwear.

“Gutes mädchen. Doesn’t that feel divine?” Medic asked, watching as your eyes rolled back in pleasure.

“Yes sir,” you moaned, outright humping the boot in earnest now. You slid yourself over the leather from the toe to the instep, back and forth in a rhythm that sent jolts of ecstasy through you. It wasn’t enough though, certainly not enough to push you over the edge, and Medic knew this. He watched with a sly grin as you began to ride the boot more desperately, clutching at his leg for some kind of leverage.

“Medic-” you quickly corrected yourself. “Sir! Please!”

“Please what, liebling? Use your words.”

You looked up with those wide, pleading eyes once again, this time far more clouded with lust and need. “Please fuck me!”

Medic smirked down at you, and nodded. He was actually quite eager to relieve the arousal building in his own core as well. However, he hid his desire well, keeping his voice steady as he continued to issue commands.

“Up here, meine liebe. Kneel on the bed, on your hands and knees,” he said, patting the mattress.

“Yes sir!” You said, unable to hide the enthusiasm in your voice. You were on the bed and in position as quickly as possible, only pausing to finally strip your underwear off.

Medic felt himself twitch with need at the sight of you. Such an obedient subject, so ready to take him as long as he kept his boots on, and he had every intent of fulfilling that promise. He moved behind you, removing his dress shirt and lowering his pants just enough to free his straining erection.

You gasped softly when you felt his cock press against your entrance. You looked back at him and met his gaze, which had softened for just a moment. With a smile and a nod, you assured him that he could go on. That was all the permission he needed to thrust himself in to the hilt. It was an easy endeavor, with how wet you had become.

Your head dropped to the mattress as he thrust into you. In such a position, it was easy enough to look back between your own legs. You were able to admire those boots this way, still shiny as could be, partially due to your earlier activities, digging into the mattress for purchase as Medic snapped his hips forward. It was all you could have ever wanted.

“Enjoying the view, my dear,” Medic asked, his hot breath tickling your neck as he draped himself over you.

“Yeah,” was all you managed to get out between shuddering moans. He held onto your hips, tightening his grip in warning. You quickly corrected yourself. “Yes sir!”

“Mein Gott, you’re so wet, just from grinding yourself on my boots for so long,” Medic said, laughing wickedly between desperate groans in a way you found incredibly erotic, especially as they mixed with your own sounds. “Now that I know about this little interest of yours, perhaps I’ll have to buy some special pairs just for you.”

A pleasant shudder went up your spine at the thought of that. Medic sporting boots purchased for the specific purpose of letting you lick and rut desperately against them.

“I would like that. sir,” you moaned.

“Yes, I thought you would. Perhaps we can find some with more intricate details? I’m sure that the ridges and bumps of engraved leather would offer some very interesting sensations for you,” Medic’s voice broke slightly at the end, signaling a slight loss of composure as the pleasure began to build. He moaned deeply and began to thrust faster, clearly getting close to finishing.

“Yes! Yes sir, please!” You cried, your mind racing with all the new possibilities. Medic reached around your waist to rub your clit, bringing you as close to the edge as he was with a few circular motions.

With a sharp groan, Medic thrust his hips forward one final time. He moaned into your ear as his orgasm overtook him. A few more strokes of your clit had you following soon after, nearly collapsing onto the mattress with a shrill cry.

Medic’s weight fell upon you, essentially pinning you to the mattress below him. Luckily, you didn’t mind too much. In fact, it was comforting in a way. It was also the perfect position for Medic to whisper into your ear.

“We are going to have so much fun with this, liebchen. I’m going to make you feel so good,” the soft whispers wormed their way into your mind and you clung onto every word. “The sight of you desperately rutting against my boots. I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of that. I’m going to have so much fun finding new ways to make you beg and moan just for me next time.”

You listened intently, even as your eyes began to drift shut. You remained below him, smiling as you were lulled to sleep with detailed promises of what was to come. Unconsciousness overtook you, as did the most tantalizing sense of anticipation for the ‘next time’ that had been promised.

[littlesmartart]

Leverage AU thoughts

okay so I wanted to keep the worldbuilding for the AU in that specific photoset relatively short for the sake of how the post worked, but I've seen a lot of questions in the tags so here is some more information for you all, under the cut because it got LONG:

MORALITY: okay so I called this the "(sort of) Leverage AU" because it basically flips the Leverage concept of "criminals work together with one non-criminal for the greater good" into "one criminal persuades a bunch of non-criminals that law =/= morality and that sometimes to make sure the bad guys get justice you have to work around legality". Obviously some people are easier to persuade than others (Huaisang has always been pretty ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about the law, but before he joins the team he insists all of his crimes have been Theoretical, and besides, pirating movies isn't real crime, da-ge, god), and some of them are a little troubled by it but have their own reasons for joining (Mingjue has a LOT of issues with it, but joins to protect Huaisang for That One Job, and then stays with the insistence that a. they don't kill anyone, b. they don't involve anyone who doesn't super deserve it, and c. that their goal is always to get evidence so the mark can be convicted and the mark is always handed over to the appropriate authorities at the end of the job. he has a little more moral flexibility than canon Mingjue because of his Complicated Past He Wants To Atone For, but he still has an incredibly strong internal moral code that he absolutely will not violate. Jiang Cheng cares more about the law in principle, rather than personally, and as soon as he sees that they can get Justice that the law can't, he's sold). Xichen has the hardest time of it; he jumps into the first job without protest because Meng Yao asks (and Meng Yao never ever asks for anything, so it... it must be important, right? And Jin Guangshan definitely deserves it). After that he has a lot of internal struggling going on, and he's usually the one in the team trying to steer them towards legal means, and going through the "correct" channels. He probably has a breakdown about it at the end of a season and spends the next season Travelling To Find Himself. He winds up coming back to the team when, on one of his travels, he watches a family he's staying with lose everything after being targeted by a conman, but because of a dirty police chief the evidence is destroyed. They refuse to take his money when he tries to help, and he realises that they only way to get them justice... is to call in the team. That's not to say he is 100% cool with everything from then on, and he definitely draws the line at certain criminal acts (stealing for the fun of it he is not okay with, for example, and he gives a Hard No on the suggestion of trying White Rabbit) but for the most part he accepts the concept of what they do as being for the greater good.

GRIFTER XICHEN: yeah it's ridiculous and implausible but hear me out... that just makes it better. Because this man is terrible at improv and can only lie when he's in character (you see that means it's not lying then, it's just ACTING) and doesn't drink and absolutely will not seduce a mark past the level of general flirting... and yet he's somehow a wildly successful grifter??? How??? I'll tell you how: he's so fucking handsome and kind and charming and cultured that pretty much everyone who meets him just... melts a little bit and, with some coaxing, gives him whatever he needs. IT'S LIKE A FREAKIN SUPERPOWER and it's absolutely ridiculous. With the added bonus that he's juuust famous enough that the average person might kind of think he looks familiar, which means he's very good at coming across like he totally belongs wherever he's seen. Of course he works here, he's been here for months... don't you recognise him?

NO WOMEN ON THE TEAM: look, in Meng Yao's defence, when he put together this team he thought it would only be for one job, he wasn't trying to future-proof it! But yes, it can sometimes be an issue if they don't have time to plan ahead, and he and Huaisang - as the most stereotypically feminine members of the team, and by far the best liars - will usually take on any female roles they need if they're in a pinch and can't call in outside help, although all of them are ready to take on roles of different genders if need be (female roles are actually the only way to persuade Huaisang to grift, and he has an extensive shoe collection for such roles that he likes to expand by billing to the company account... Meng Yao is deeply unimpressed by this).

OTHER CHARACTERS: when Meng Yao started this, he worked very very hard to keep his siblings and the rest of his family out of it, to keep them all away from any fallout in case it went wrong (and also to stop any pesky Moral Issues from getting in the way). When that was over and they started taking regular cases, he relaxed the rule a little - Mianmian will sometimes step in to help if she can be sold on how bad the person is they're taking down, Zonghui can be relied upon if they need extra muscle, and Wen Qing is their go-to Ask No Questions doctor. Wei Wuxian frequently gets roped in to consult, as, if you give him six packs of hot chips, ten cans of monster, twelve hours, and a laptop, he can become a specialist in almost anything. Jiang Cheng was very very resistant towards the idea of his brother being allowed in the team, even just as a consultant, but the MOMENT Wei Wuxian was given any access to Shenanigans there was no fucking stopping him. In the later jobs Qin Su accidentally gets pulled into one of the cons and turns out to be a WAY better grifter than anyone could have imagined, so she winds up on the "ally call list". Meng Yao is both perturbed and proud, but absolutely draws the line at teenage Mo Xuanyu being allowed to help.

PAIRINGS: flipping the "two parents + three kids" dynamic in Leverage, this AU has 3zun and Sangcheng - so "three gege + two didi". Xiyao have a One That Got Away sort of past, and Xichen joins the team SPECIFICALLY because Meng Yao expresses emotional vulnerability by asking for help fOr OnCe In HiS fUcKiNg LiFe. Nielan dated when they were teens, and are happy to be reunited, but Mingjue refuses to rekindle a romantic relationship until Xiyao sort their shit out because it's obvious to anyone with eyes how hung up on Meng Yao Xichen is. Nieyao have a certain amount of "I'll work with you towards a common cause but that doesn't mean I have to like you" vibe, but veeery slooowlyyy wind up bonding over doing stuff they're not proud of for something they were so sure was a worthy cause at the time, but now they just feel jaded and used (there's a lot of arguments along the lines of "oh, so my corporate espionage is worse than what you did in spec ops... because the military says that what you did was legal. RIGHT. OKAY. SURE."). After several years of will-they-won't-they struggle, 3zun do get together, and everyone is very relieved. As for Sangcheng... it starts off as Huaisang just flirting kind of obnoxiously with Jiang Cheng, who rolls his eyes and snarks back, and then naturally Huaisang winds up catching feelings and is like [meme voice] Haha, I'm In Danger! He is unwilling to act on his feelings because he doesn't believe that Jiang Cheng likes him that way, and continues to believe that right up until the day Jiang Cheng snaps, and grabs him and kisses him, and is like "if I didn't actually like you flirting with me I would have punched you in the face years ago" and Huaisang is like "huh. Yeah that's probably true."

[bubblesuga]

Turning Page - Part 1

Summary: Sometimes you find yourself in the right place at the right time and unknowingly, you fall in love. Min Yoongi certainly didn’t expect that when he met eyes with you one fateful night in late July. Nor did he expect to end up naked in your apartment while you drew his body.

w/c: 7,302 genre: struggling producer!yoongi au, new relationship, fluff, smut warnings: oral (m receiving), dom!yoongi, switch!reader, raw sex, spanking, reader has a praise kink, yoongi has a dirty mouth (but lets be honest, what else is new?), slight exhibitionism, jungkook is too nosy for his own good

It’s not often that you find yourself at a 24 hour diner in the middle of the night with an insane amount of papers splayed out in front of you as eat your waffles while answering emails and trying your hardest to copy the manuscripts sent to you but for some god-awful reason it’s happened to you on more than one occasion this week alone. 

The manuscript, which the author unabashedly decided to hand write instead of type in this day and age, was way too long and had way too much detail. Unfortunately for you, your boss only reads typed manuscripts and insisted that you copy every word and type it for her by Monday. You know for a fact that your boss is going to get three chapters into this absolute mess of a story and toss it but you have no choice but to listen to her. 

This is definitely not how you expected being an intern to go yet here you are, wondering and waiting for the day that you can move on and start your own company like you’ve wanted to for practically your entire life. 

“Can I get you a refill on your coffee?” A voice asks, and you glance up to see the waitress, an older woman with a smile that could light up a thousand suns. 

“Yes please,” you smile, holding out your mug to her as she pours directly from the pot, “thank you.” 

“No problem, I always see you working so hard so I figured you could use the energy boost.” she grins, patting your shoulder lightly as she begins to walk away and help the other few tables which also happen to be hosting tired college students and early risers or late sleepers. 

Without even realizing it, another half hour passes by you quickly. Your eyes burn, but you count the remaining pages and try to push through. Quickly though, your ears spot the sound of dishes clanking together and you can’t help but pull your attention in that direction. 

A man with blond hair and dark eyes is cleaning the table in front of you. He adorns an apron around his waist and a white t-shirt with black pants. The busboy wipes down the table, and you admire his side profile as he does so. His features are soft, a rounded nose and down-turned lips held almost in a pout. You have never come across a man so stunningly beautiful, it nearly causes your breath to be caught in your throat. 

You’re staring for so long that the man catches on to your watchful eye, glancing over in your direction with a raised eyebrow. You smile sheepishly, “Sorry.” 

The man smirks, shaking his head before hauling the bin of empty cups and plates towards the kitchen. Your heart sinks for a moment, but you shake the feeling to the best of your ability and try to finish typing. 

A few more moments pass, and you hear someone sitting across from you. You glance up and see the man sat across from you, apron gone and a black jacket now covering his torso. 

“Can I help you?” You question softly, clasping your hands together atop the table. 

He bites his bottom lip, “I feel like I should be asking you the same thing.” 

“Pardon?” 

“You were watching me earlier, just curious what was on your mind was all.” He shrugs, his hands stuffed into his hoodie pockets. 

You swallow, the way his eyes scan you causes your face to flush. Carefully, you stack up your papers and clean the table slightly while you try to think a way to dance around the answer to his question. He waits patiently, which only causes you to panic internally. 

“I was thinking that you would be nice to draw.” you finally settle on, and it’s true. He looks like a work of art, and you’d love to have had him as a model in your art class when you went to college. 

He doesn’t seem to expect that answer, his eyes widening slightly as his head tilts, “So draw me.” 

“Ah,” you immediately wave your hand dismissively, “I haven’t drawn in a couple years and I was never any good at it anyway.” 

He leans forward, mirroring your position from earlier, “But if that was your first thought then surely you still have an interest in it.” The smooth cadence of his tone intimidates you to no end, yet it entices you and pulls you in even more. How can a stranger hold so much power over you?

“I’ll tell you what,” you say after a moment, suddenly gaining a brush of confidence when you see a twinkle in his eye, “you come to my apartment tomorrow night and I’ll draw you.” 

“That sounds like a trap to murder me.” He remarks, a gummy grin stretching across his face and you have to hold back a small ‘awe’, your chest twisting at the sight. 

“You want to get drawn or not?” you bite back, just as teasingly. 

He shakes his head, a small chuckle leaving his pink lips, “Give me your phone.” 

You raise an eyebrow, reaching into your bag and pulling out your phone. You unlock it for him and he takes it immediately, keeping the screen just far enough away from you that you can’t see what he’s doing. Soon enough, he stands abruptly and sets your phone down onto the table.

He smirks, “Text me the address, I’ll be there.” 

The stranger wanders down the isle and towards the front door, and you watch in awe at his broad shoulders and shapely figure. Something about the way he carried himself made your mouth water. 

Breaking out of your trance, you quickly unlock your phone and and see a newly added contact. At the top of the screen is a simple ‘Yoongi ;)’ titling the contact. 

You blush, gnawing your bottom lip gently as he passes by the window and sends a wink your way.

~*~*~

He’s going to be here any moment. He’s going to walk through your door with his stupid fucking smirk and attractive eyes and he’s going to be in your living room, posing for a while so you can draw him. 

And you’re freaking out. 

After he left you immediately sent him your address, and since then the two of you have been talking non stop. It was mostly about small things, jobs, favorite foods and favorite colors... Although it may have only been a day, you feel like you know him pretty well. He’s funny and charismatic and oh so charming, no wonder you were so drawn in to his beauty because he’s gorgeous from the inside out. 

You haphazardly through your jackets and shoes into the closet by the front door, only recently becoming aware of how much clothes you leave strewn throughout your home. 

Just as you light a cinnamon scented candle in the center of the room, your doorbell rings. 

You rush over to the door and glance in the mirror to fluff your hair and wipe away any runny make up. Exhaling a deep breath, you open the door and greet Yoongi with a smile. 

“Hello.” you say simply, opening the door wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. He’s dressed in a black button up and tight fitting black jeans, a stark contrast to his work attire. He carries with him a back pack and a bottle of whiskey. 

He notices the way you eye the bottle, and he flushes slightly, “I figured it could help with your nerves. A- and mine, because I’m a little nervous as well.” 

“Nervous?” you trudge into your living room with Yoongi following closely behind, “why are you nervous?” 

“Well, I’m not exactly sure if you expected this to be a nude drawing or not so I wore nice clothes but I’m also willing to take them off.” He scratches the bottom of his chin, watching as you set up the easel. 

You pause your movements, eyes widening, “N- nude?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, twisting open the bottle of whiskey, “isn’t that what you do in those fancy art classes? Draw nude people?” 

“I- I mean, we did,” you stutter, your throat going dry, “but they were always women because I went to an all female college.” 

“Ah, so you could use the practice,” he grins confidently, but it drops suddenly, “unless you’re uncomfortable with that. Then, fully clothed is fine with me.” 

The thought of being able to see the gorgeous man nude excited you more than you’d like to admit, and seeing as you two were in the safety and comfort of your own home, you had no problem with him doing it so long as he wanted to, and by the way his fingers are itching to undo the first button of his shirt, you figure he is. 

“Go ahead. You’re right, I can use the practice.” 

Yoongi smiles and with trembling fingers he begins to take his clothes off. As he does so, you focus on setting up the rest of your supplies. The charcoal set sits idly on the table beside you and you finally sit down with a sigh. 

As you turn your eyes back to Yoongi, you see that he is splayed across your couch with the bottle in hand. 

Holy fuck, his body is just as gorgeous as his face. He’s lean, but you can tell he definitely works out his arms and his legs are long, a pinkish tint holds itself to his skin and you’re unsure if he’s being shy or if the alcohol has already taken affect on him. Eventually you let your eyes land on his hips, his pelvis presenting itself neatly between his legs. It takes everything in you not to drop what you’re doing and let him fuck you into oblivion. 

“(Y/N)?” you hear, and you’re brought back to the current situation. Yoongi’s face holds a knowing smirk, and he leans forward to hand you the bottle of whiskey. 

You take it gratefully, your heart thudding harshly in your chest as you take a sip. 

“Is this position okay?” he questions, one leg bent at the knee and resting on the other one. His right arm rests extended on the back of the couch while his left hand plays dangerously close to his pelvis. 

“Y- yes.” you breathe, picking up your pencil and beginning the sketch. 

It doesn’t take long for you to get the basic sketch down, your love for drawing coming back in droves as Yoongi sits silently, watching your face as you continue to sketch across the paper. He smiles, your nose crinkling before you erase a line or your tongue poking out as your concentrating on a specific area. 

After a little bit of silence, you speak up, “Do you want me to draw, uhm,” you pause your sentence and gesture towards his hips, to which he responds with a little laugh. 

“My cock?” 

His use of the word shocks you a little bit, but you silently remind yourself that you are a grown woman and are completely capable of listening to a man talk about his anatomy, even when you’re immensely attracted to him and have to continually swallow the drool that threatens to fall from your mouth. 

“Yeah, your- your cock.” you nearly whisper, noticing the way his cock twitches slightly at your voice. 

Okay, he’s getting just as much enjoyment out of this as I am. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, shifting a few inches, “I want you to draw my cock.” 

You nod, turning back to your drawing and beginning the last details. 

Yoongi doesn’t take his attention away from your face, gauging your reaction to his body. He likes the way you’re so attentive, and it’s taking everything in him not to harden, though he’s unsure how much longer he can hold off. 

His mind reels with the possibility of you riding him right on this couch. After spotting you at the restaurant he knew that he wanted you. It’s been far too long since he’s had sex, and his pickiness has become more and more evident, especially to his roommates. However, the moment he saw you, he could nearly imagine the way you would feel around him and when he saw you staring he knew that he was in the clear to come over and talk to you. 

This definitely wasn’t how he expected it to turn out but he has no complaints. 

“I’m almost done,” you murmur, your brow furrowed in concentration, “you can move now. All I have to do is shade a little.” 

Yoongi lets out a small breath, his fingers dancing across his hip bone as he lays comfortably on his back, “Do you need me to get dressed now?” 

You glance up, your face mostly hidden by the sketch pad, “If you would like to.” 

Slight disappointment hits Yoongi as he realizes that he’s not going to be able to touch you today. He sits up and reaches for his boxers, but you stop him. 

“Or you could give me a minute and I’ll undress too.” you say casually, shrugging as you pick up a black pen and sign the bottom of the drawing.

Yoongi’s jaw drops, and there’s no stopping it now. He instantly feels blood rush to his cock and watches intently while you spin the easel around and show him your work of art. 

Across the page, Yoongi sees himself displayed and detail lining every area of the sketch. He notices the way his eyes twinkle even in the drawing and if there were ever a time to think of himself as attractive, it would be now that he’s been drawn by you. 

“Do you like it?” you ask nervously.

Yoongi grins, “I love it.” 

“Good,” you whisper, and you stand up. You take a careful step over to him, and Yoongi doesn’t take his eyes away from you. As you’re about to slip your shirt over your head, he stops you. 

“Let me, please.” he begs gently, and you nod. He stands up quickly and hooks his fingers around the hem of your shirt. You lift your arms and allow him to slip the material over your head. His movements are slow, tantalizing and teasing you but also drawing you into him. 

He places his hand against your side, drawing small circles before leaning forward and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. 

It lasts no more than a few seconds, but you instantly miss the contact. He smiles, his nose crinkling as he does so and your heart can be heard from inside your chest, singing as he looks you in the eyes. He unhooks your bra, tossing it to the side and suddenly his lips are back on yours. 

It’s much more feverish than before, the taste of the whiskey and his strawberry flavored lip balm mix together on your tongue. The combination is harmonious, and he tastes exactly like you thought he would. 

Suddenly, he grips your shorts and pants, slipping them down your legs and softly commanding you to step out of them. You steady yourself on his shoulders and do as he says, your legs trembling with anticipation. 

“Last chance to back out of this if you don’t want it.” Yoongi says, his hands cupping your jaw and using his thumb to swipe gently at your cheek. You smile, “I want this.” 

He nods, “On your knees.” 

You instantly listen, dropping to your knees in front of him and licking your lips hungrily at now being eye level with Yoongi’s now hard cock. He smirks, “You can touch.” 

You nod hesitantly, then reach forward and pump him up and down a few times. Instantly, Yoongi’s head falls backward and a moan falls from his lips, gloriously loud and deep. 

The sound sends tingles straight to your heat, and you tentatively stick your tongue out to lick the tip of his member. His hips flex and you open your mouth automatically to accept him into your mouth. He goes a little further than expected and you gag as you feel him hit the back of your throat. 

“’M sorry,” he moans, “fuck your throat feels so good.” 

He looked heavenly, sweat begins to line his forehead as you use your tongue on the underside of his cock, paying special attention to the pulsating vein. 

His hands gather your hair up in his hands, “There we go, wanna see your pretty face as you suck my cock.” 

Fuck. 

You take him as deep into your mouth as you possibly can and hold him there, moaning at his dirty mouth and feeling yourself grow wetter by the second. 

“Good girl,” he feels your hands begin to roam his torso, his muscles flexing beneath his fingertips, “gonna cum.” 

With that, you pop off of him and see his eyes fall to you incredulously. “I was gonna-” 

“I know,” you grin, “but wouldn’t it feel better inside of me?” 

“You are so fucking hot.” he says, pulling you up to his level and slamming his lips to yours. You tug him down as you fall onto the couch, his cock brushing ever-so-lightly between your legs and causing both of you to gasp. 

It doesn’t take Yoongi long to line himself up at your entrance, your legs wrapped carefully around his waist and guiding him in slowly. Yoongi watches the way your eyes roll backwards as he bottoms out, a moan falling from his lips as he steadies himself.

He had never felt as much pleasure than in this moment. 

The eroticism of the entire situation made everything feel more sensual. Despite barely knowing him, you felt a connection to him stronger than anyone ever before. The way his cock seems to fit perfectly within you, stroking and massaging your velvety walls, immediately has you reeling beneath him. 

“I’m not gonna last very long,” Yoongi starts, his arms shaking as he holds himself above you, “what can I do to help you out?” 

“That’s okay, just fuck me.” You gasp.

You feel him reach a point inside you that sends waves through your body, your back arching off the couch. Yoongi catches the way your breathing has grown ragged, and reaches his hand between the two of you. 

His thumb manages to find your clit, collecting your wetness and rubbing over it gently. His thrusts stay slow and steady, but even so you’re unable to hold back. As your orgasm approaches, you bring Yoongi down to your mouth and feel the way he nibbles at your bottom lip. Suddenly, he speeds his thrusts up and his thumb swipes fast and sloppy circles across your clit. 

You feel your breath catch in your throat as your orgasm washes over you, a mewl of content leaving your mouth as Yoongi soon follows after, strings of hot cum coating your walls and adding to the sensitivity of your heat. 

He collapses on top of you, his lips peppering kisses across your exposed chest while your hand caresses his hair. 

“I would have been able to last longer if you weren’t so fucking good at giving head.” Yoongi nearly whines, his chest heaving while he attempts to catch his breath. 

“It’s okay,” you smile, pushing his hair back and exposing his forehead, “we both got there in the end.” 

Yoongi shrugs, making no effort to move off of you as he buries himself in your chest, “If you hadn’t, I would have no problem making you cum on my tongue.” His words are slightly muffled by your breasts which only causes you to giggle. 

“Hm, I’m open to experiencing that on another day,” his lips turn up against your skin at your words, “but can I give you some pointers?” 

Yoongi’s head pops up, his eyes looking at you incredulously, “you just said that we both got there in the end, what more do I need to do?” 

“Be louder,” you whisper, his tone teasing, “I like when a man is vocal.” 

His eyes glare jokingly, “Okay, you’re on. I’ll be as loud as you want.” 

You giggle, pressing a light kiss to his nose and watching the way his face scrunch up at the contact. 

His chin rests on you, his thumb stroking your cheekbone, “I like you a lot.” 

“Are you basing this solely off of the fact that I made you cum?” 

“That plays a part in it,” he chuckles, “but I want to see you again for sure. You seem cool, and I’d really like to take you out to dinner some time.” 

“Ah,” you click your tongue, “we did it backwards.” 

Yoongi laughs, a melodic sound that instantly makes your heart speed up. 

The two of you lay there for a little bit, your hand stroking his hair as you talk about the most mundane tasks. He tells you a little bit about his job, how his friend owns the diner the two of you met at and Yoongi likes to help out every once in a while for some extra cash. 

His real passion lies in music, which is why he was so hellbent to see you make art again. He loves encouraging people to create, to take charge and express themselves in the purest forms. 

After what seems like hours, Yoongi hears his phone ding. With a groan of disapproval, he climbs off of you and reaches into his jeans for his phone. 

You situate yourself on your side, watching the way Yoongi runs a hand through his messy hair and checks his phone. 

“Seokjin wants me to come serve tonight,” he says with a sigh, “I’ll text you after I get off, yeah?” 

You nod, “I need to finish up some work anyway.”

Silently, Yoongi begins to dress himself for the first time since he entered your apartment. You pout visibly as he slips his boxers back on, standing up and following suit by dressing yourself as well. 

As soon as you’re both dressed, you carefully tear Yoongi’s drawing out of the sketch pad and reach out to hand it to him.

“You’re giving it to me?” He questions, taking it with a raised eyebrow. 

You nod, “I don’t feel right in keeping it.” 

He shakes his head, “You should keep it for a rainy day.” 

Your eyes turn to slits while you inspect the drawing. You quietly slip it back into the sketchbook while Yoongi lets out another laugh. 

You lead him back to the front door, your arms crossed over your chest. Different from previous hook ups, you didn’t feel dirty after everything that you did. Instead, you felt comforted by the fact that he didn’t just leave as soon as he finished. He seemed like he genuinely wanted to take care of you and that wasn’t something you came across often. 

As he shuts the door behind him, you can’t help but touch your lips while you remember the feeling of his. 

~*~*~

“Hey Seokjin,” Yoongi greets as he enters the diner through the back door. 

Seokjin flips some sauteed vegetables in a pan and glances over at his younger friend, “Hey Yoon-” he pauses, setting down the pan, “you got laid didn’t you?” 

Yoongi throws his head back, muttering a small ‘damn it’ knowing that he’s going to get grilled until Seokjin is happy with the amount of details he’s received. 

“Yeah I did.” he sighs. 

“Hm, well you don’t seem too happy about it. Was she awful or something?” 

Yoongi whips his head towards Seokjin, “What? No, god no. She was fantastic.” 

“Then why the long face?” 

“Because I had to leave her to come help you.” Yoongi shrugs, chuckling when he feels Seokjin shove him lightly. 

Shaking his head, Seokjin plates up the food while he talks to Yoongi, “Was it the cute editor you were talking about last night?” 

Yoongi feels a twinge of jealousy hit his chest when he hears Seokjin saw you too, but it’s quickly replaced with triumph once he realizes that he got to you first. 

“She’s an intern, not an editor quite yet, but yeah that’s her.” 

“Good man,” he praises, “does that mean you’re back on your game?” 

Yoongi scoffs, “Just because I fuck one girl doesn’t mean I’m immediately going to try and fuck every girl I’m attracted to again.” 

Sure, Yoongi admits he went through a phase of... being well known. Especially in college, Yoongi was known to be a man of many special talents. After a while of random hook ups and making girls scream his name, he lost interest. He assumed it was because he got bored of it, but now he’s realizing that he was much more interested in having a relationship. Ever since he realized that, he had been waiting for someone to fall into his lap. 

For some reason, the moment he saw you he felt some indescribable feeling that drew him to you. Like all that waiting had finally paid off and he needed to talk to the girl with laser focus and a cute smile. 

“Oh, so you like this girl?” Seokjin says, glancing at the screen as another order comes in. 

“Yeah, a lot. She’s an artist.” He grins, calling back from the locker room connected to the kitchen. 

“Awe, did she draw you a picture?” Seokjin coos, a loud laugh following his teasing words. 

Yoongi’s cheeks blush as he suddenly flashes back to the events of today, “Yeah, you could say that.” 

Seokjin glances into the locker room, “I’ll question further later, for now you need to go to section A and help out Hwasa because she is drowning in tickets.” 

“Yes sir!” Yoongi mocks a salute, walking out to the dining area. 

~*~*~

From: Yoongi (received 16:34)

Be ready in 20.  Dress comfortably.

Your jaw drops as you stare at your phone, rushing upward from your position on your couch with a bag of chips and blankets surrounding you. 

You glance your at your reflection in passing and practically run to the bathroom to comb your hair. 

It’s only been two weeks since the two of you met. Your comforted by the fact that your phone always has a good morning text and a good night text from Yoongi. The two of you have yet to have a dry conversation and even if Yoongi is stuck at work or working on one of his secret projects, he makes sure to send a text that he’ll respond as soon as he has the chance. 

Previously you had never had someone so attentive, especially even in just the talking stages. At one point he called you, his voice rough and laced with sleep but the entire time he seemed lively and excited to talk to you. Your heart swelled with adoration the entire time and you’re safe in thinking that Yoongi feels the same. 

Because you haven’t seen Yoongi since the day you drew him, you find yourself regularly looking at the drawing. 

For the first time in what seems like years, you felt proud of something you had created. A constant rut that collapsed in on you like a black hole, drowning you in a state of constant despair, disappeared in half a day. Since then, you’re brain is reeling with creative thought and you couldn’t wait to show Yoongi what you’ve been drawing in your free time. He encourages you in a way that makes you feel like you can be whatever you want to be. 

One thing you were most proud of was your self-portrait. Your legs laid spread in front of a mirror for hours while you tried to perfect a drawing for Yoongi, to give back since he allowed you to keep his. 

“Why do all my cute bras disappear when I need them most?” you whine outwardly, your phone dinging again. 

From Yoongi (received 16:48) 

Oops, I’m early. 

You smile. 

To Yoongi (sent 16:49) 

You’re lucky you’re cute Be out soon

Quickly, you slip on a simple blue laced bra and t-shirt with a red skirt. Hoping that you were still cute in your comfortable clothes, you let out a nervous breath and head to the door. You grab your sketch book before you lock your door, Yoongi’s car parked at the end of the breezeway. You spot him before he spots you, a black beanie adorned on his head with his gorgeous blond hair peaking out beneath. 

You open his door and Yoongi immediately puts his phone away, “Hey.” 

“Hi.” You greet, slipping your sketchbook into the back seat. Yoongi leans over the center console and holds your face in his hand, and he kisses you. 

It’s short and sweet, not as feverish as the first one you shared but it made you realize how quickly you had fallen victim to missing his kiss. 

“I have wanted to do that for weeks now.” He states as if he read your mind, his eyes closed in bliss. 

“Why’d it take you so long then?” You tease, kissing him again. 

Yoongi smirks, “Absence makes the heart grow fonder.” 

“Does that mean you’re fonder of me?” 

He watches you pull the seat belt over your torso before he responds, “Definitely, I was thinking about you last night before I went to bed.” 

You raise an eyebrow, “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” he hums, a hand moving over to rest on your knee while he backs out of the parking spot, “you’re very talented with your tongue, even in my dreams.” 

You don’t respond, instead you look down at his hand on your knee with a blush.

The drive consists of soft music playing of the speakers of Yoongi’s 2003 Kia. A choice of car you wouldn’t expect him to drive but it oddly fits his personality. It’s quiet and gets him just where he needs to be, a simple thing that Yoongi tells you he takes pride in. 

It isn’t a long drive, but you take the time to admire the way Yoongi looks as he drives. The windows are rolled down and soft summer air breezes throughout the car while you drive across the countryside. The evening sun shines across Yoongi’s face, those soft facial features that drew you in still prominent, his nose curling upward while he laughs at a joke you told. 

“Alright,” he says after about 15 minutes, “we’re here.” 

Yoongi parks near a beach, where you spot a group of people around a fire. You tilt your head, “Are we meeting your friends?” 

“Yeah, I hope that’s okay. It’s just a small get together to celebrate a friend’s promotion.” Yoongi scratches the back of his neck and lets out a nervous chuckle. 

You survey the crowd, cases of soju surrounding them while they laugh among each other. One of them seems to spot the car, waving at the two of you enthusiastically. 

Butterflies swarm in your stomach as you draw your bottom lip between your teeth, “Sure, I’d love to meet your friends.” 

Yoongi rushes to the other side of the car to open your door for you, wrapping his arm comfortingly around your shoulder while he leads you to the group. 

A log was left empty that had just enough room for the two of you. As you approach, Yoongi calls out, “Shut up everybody! This is (Y/N), be nice to her. I like her a lot,” instantly everyone quiets down, and Yoongi points to the tallest first man, “That’s Namjoon, Seokjin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin.” 

“Hyung, why’d you say my name last?” Jimin pouts, his voice already slightly slurred. You giggle, following Yoongi to the log. 

Namjoon reaches over, sticking his hand out, “It’s nice to meet the girl that Yoongi’s mentioned.” 

“Mentioned?” Jungkook scoffs, “He doesn’t shut up about you. You’re all he ever talks about and it takes a lot to get this man to stop talking about music.” 

Yoongi leans over and smacks his friend on the arm, his cheeks turning red at his admission. 

You giggle, “If it’s any consolation, I talk about Yoongi all the time too.” 

“Ah great, they’re both crazy about each other.” Seokjin jokes, a laugh unlike you had ever heard falling from his lips. His laugh causes you to laugh, and you quickly cover your mouth once you realize what you did. 

“Yah! She’s already making fun of my laugh!” Seokjin remarks, his bottom lip jutting outward cutely while Jimin shakes his head. 

“Take this and shut up.” Jimin reaches a drink out to Seokjin, who laughs and sends a wink your way to ease your mind. 

The night continues on gleefully, exchanging stories among each other and getting to know Yoongi’s friends - and Yoongi - more and more. 

At one point you could tell that Yoongi’s friends were grilling you in an attempt to see if you were a bad person. They were quite bad at it, though, seeing as Jungkook asked if you had ever killed a man and Taehyung was hellbent on trying to get you to say you liked country music. Though, you did admit that Carrie Underwood had a few good songs. Taehyung took this as a win and threw his hands up in victory while Namjoon told him to settle down. 

Now that you were more than a few drinks in, you listened intently to every story that the boys were telling. 

"Just wait until you hear about Yoongi’s parenting diary for Holly.” Hoseok spills, laughing so hard that he leans into Jimin who sits beside him. Jimin eyes disappear behind his smile, and everyone begins to chuckle. 

“No way!” you gape, turning to look at Yoongi who holds a beer tightly in his left and draws circles in your back with his right, “Min Yoongi, you never told me you were such a softy.” 

“I’m not a softy, I’m mean and scary,” Yoongi retaliates loudly, then he leans closer to your ear and whispers, “and I bite.” 

A chill runs down your spine and you immediately turn away, rubbing your hands together in an attempt to conceal your chill. Yoongi chuckles low enough for you to hear, his fingertips reaching beneath the base of your shirt and massaging gently. You didn’t realize how rough his fingertips were, callouses from hours of guitar playing evident on his hands. 

“Alright, children. I think it’s time for us to head out.” Yoongi says suddenly, interrupting a conversation between Hoseok and Namjoon. 

He stands and pulls you up with him. You smile and wave, “It was nice meeting you all.” 

“It was nice meeting you too,” Namjoon waves back to you, “excited to have you back around.” 

As you say goodbye to the rest and walk away, you hear a patter of footsteps walking behind the two of you. “Hyung! Can I get a ride?” 

Jungkook stumbles towards the two of you, and Yoongi glances at you in question. You shrug, “I don’t mind, it’s your car.” 

Yoongi waves Jungkook over, the three of you walking towards Yoongi’s small car. Yoongi opens the door for you, bowing gently and humming while he walks over to the drivers side. In the few short seconds that you and Jungkook were alone in the car, Jungkook leans forward and rests his head on the back of Yoongi’s seat. 

“I haven’t seen Yoongi this happy in a while,” he pats your shoulder, “thank you.” 

You don’t get the opportunity to respond as Yoongi opens the car door and hops in. You swallow, smiling and biting your lip. Your chest swells with the thought that Yoongi is just as affected by you as you are by him. 

The drive is quite, but suddenly Jungkook speaks up. 

“Is this yours, (Y/N)?”

You turn your head back and instantly your eyes widen, Jungkook glancing through your sketchpad. You spot the edge of your Yoongi drawing sticking out, Yoongi’s face visible but Jungkook had yet to spot it. 

“Y- yeah.” you say, praying that he stops flipping through the pages. Yoongi glances over to you, his eyes just as wide as yours. He simply shakes his head as if to say ‘stop him’. 

“These are really goo- oh! You drew Yoongi!” Jungkook’s fingers begin to pull at the piece of paper which causes you to unhook your seat belt and take the entire sketchbook out of Jungkook’s hands. 

He seems lost for a second, “Can I see the Yoongi drawing?” 

“No!” you and Yoongi respond simultaneously, panic lacing both of your voices while Yoongi pulls into an unfamiliar neighborhood. 

Jungkook raises an eyebrow, “You two doing something freaky?” 

Yoongi coughs, “I was just a model for (Y/N) to practice with.” 

“A nude model?” Jungkook asks in a sing-song voice, noticing the way you glance at Yoongi.

“Cool it with the questions, Kookie.” Yoongi scolds gently. 

“Hey, I don’t judge. I posed nude for a sculpting class once, those girls got to look at my bits for hours and I’m sure they enjoyed it as much as you enjoyed looking at Yoongi’s-” 

“Wow would you look at that, we’re home! Get the fuck out of my car.” Yoongi turns around, gesturing for Jungkook to exit. Jungkook holds a smirk on his face, “Be safe.” 

As soon as Jungkook gets out of the car, you release a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. Yoongi rests his head on the steering wheel, laughing quietly to himself in both embarrassment and joy. 

“Why did you have that drawing in the sketchbook?” He questions as he reverses out of the driveway. 

You shrug, “I don’t know... I just wanted to show you what I’ve been working on since that day.” 

“Like what?”

“A self portrait.” you shrug, opening the sketchbook and flipping to the most recently filled in page. You hold it up so Yoongi can glance at it while he drives, but you didn’t expect his eyes to bulge out of his head while he slams on the breaks and pulls off to the side of the neighborhood road. 

Instantly, he reaches and takes the book from you, his eyes scanning over the drawing repeatedly. 

“Gorgeous,” he breathes, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.” 

You smile gently, pointing your finger to your chest, “I drew my boobs more even than they actually are so I’m not that gorgeous.” 

Yoongi’s eyes turn to slits, “Well this is tainted now. How will I ever be able to hang this up when it’s not accurate to the real thing?” 

You giggle, pushing Yoongi’s shoulder gently. His joking tone diminishes once his eyes fall back on the drawing, the smile dropping from his face while his finger traces the curve of your hips. “Gorgeous...” he whispers again, “Fuck, I love this so much. Thank you.” 

He leans across the center console and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth. 

That’s just not enough, though. 

You slip the sketchpad out of his hands and close it, “You want to see the real thing?” 

Your lack of touch from Yoongi these past couple weeks didn’t seem to bother you but now that you have him alone, you want to jump his bones. 

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to nod, unhooking his seat belt and leaning his chair back a little bit. You grin, slipping the t-shirt over your head and pressing a harsh kiss against Yoongi’s lips. He welcomes your lips, drinking you in while his hands begin to roam your now bare skin. He slips his grip down to your thighs, pulling you over the center console and causing you straddle his thighs. 

Not breaking the kiss, you begin to grind yourself down onto Yoongi’s quick-hardening cock. He moans into the kiss, his hands kneading your ass roughly. You gasp when you feel his hand lay a hard smack against your ass, the sound resonating throughout the car and causing Yoongi to smirk. 

“Oh, you like being spanked?” he peppers kisses across your neck, “have you been a bad girl?” 

“Mhm,” you moan, “I’m your bad girl.” 

“That’s right,” Yoongi growls, spanking you once again, “my bad girl.” 

You toss your head back when you feel Yoongi’s hips begin to twist beneath you, his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. You reach between the two of you, unzipping his jeans and threading his cock through the hole. 

Yoongi sucks in a breath through his teeth while your small hand pumps him up and down carefully. 

“No time,” Yoongi groans, “ride me.” 

You didn’t have to be told twice. 

The feeling of the slick between your legs was enough to show that you were ready, so Yoongi’s fingers push your panties to the side while he holds his cock and lines it up with your entrance. It doesn’t take long for him to slip inside, his hands gripping your hips and lifting you up and down while you moaned above him. 

“You like my cock, don’t you baby? You’re gonna cum so good for me, aren’t you?” His voice is gruff, the encouraging tone causing your body to jolt with pleasure. You nod quickly, your mouth opening to respond but the only noise to leave your throat was a whisper of his name. 

He feels the way your walls clamp down on him, leaning forward and nibbling across your breasts. “Fuck,” he curses while you speed your hips up, “your pussy feels so good around me.” 

Yoongi’s words cause your orgasm to creep up on you, his name falling from your lips like a mantra as you pulsate around him. Yoongi bears his teeth as he cums, growling low and deep while his fingers grip your hips hard, sure to leave bruises but you didn’t mind. 

You both sit for a moment while you catch your breath, Yoongi’s tongue licking a long stripe from your collarbones to your jawbone before he kisses your lips. 

“Did so good for me,” he rubs soothing circles in your burning thighs, “was I vocal enough for you?” 

You laugh, “Yes sir. Please keep it coming.” 

You both wince as he lifts you off of him, falling into the passenger seat and sighing happily. 

Your feet rest in his lap after the two of you are cleaned up, his hands gently massaging them while he tells you about a new song that he’s working on and how he hopes that someone will be interested. 

It’s then that you realize that this is going to extend past the need for sex, because the two of you were both genuinely interested in each other’s lives. He speaks animatedly about his interests and listens intently to yours. It doesn’t take you long to begin imagining waking up beside him every morning with the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen. 

As he drops you off at your apartment for the night, Yoongi walks you to your doorstep.You unlock the door and turn to give him a goodbye kiss but he stops you, grabbing your hand and stroking across your knuckles. 

“So, do you think you’d be interested in being my girlfriend?” He asks nervously, “I- I wasn’t sure if you were just thinking of this as a friend with benefits situation so I figured I would ask before one of us gets hurt.” 

You nearly coo at the man, watching the way his eyes dance across his feet. 

You bring your arms around his neck and pull him down to your level, slamming a kiss onto his lips one more time. His hand grips the back of your shirt tightly, his tongue exploring your mouth while you lean against the wall. He pulls away with a grin, resting his forehead against yours. 

“Is that a yes?” 

You smile, “Of course.” 

[wissbby]

Boyfriend head-canon - Oikawa Tо̄ru

�� Summary: basically, a head-canon about how I imagine Oikawa in a relationship. ⊹ Genre: fluff, smut and a tiny bit of angst ⊹ Word count: 1779 ⊹ Warnings: NSFW ⤙ Author’s note: this head-canon is a bit bigger than I anticipated. I still feel like I’m missing so much more so I might edit this in the future and add onto it. For now, I hope you just enjoy it :)

So, let's say you and Oikawa got together.

I don't see Oikawa as someone who opens up easy. It takes the man a lot of time and trust so you'll have to be patient if you want to develop a relationship with him.

You must've been (very very good) friends before he even sees you as a potential significant other. 

I've seen a lot of Haikyuu fans bashing on the man because of that one scene with Kageyama. They don't realise that Oikawa was at his lowest point during this moment and was overall just doing very, very bad. 

It's also a scene where we get to see Oikawa's fakes finally breaking down. 

You need to show Oikawa you're there for him, even if he pushes you away at the very beginning.

He's afraid to show you his insecurities, even if you're already aware of them in the first place. 

He's just so so afraid of losing you. He’s afraid you’ll leave him behind once you get to see the other -not so pretty- side of him.

So, try to break him,

in a good way, of course.

Also, give him a lot of space. And by this, I mean, give the man attention but let him do his things like he always has done. 

Even though you're now his partner, Oikawa is still selfish in that perspective. He won't try his hardest best to change his schedule for you.

You know volleyball is important to him, right? So you must understand why he won't do so.

Trust me,

He'll come back running once he realises this kind of behaviour was the exact reason his ex broke up with him.

"I'm so sorry. It's just- I'll try harder."

And if Oikawa says so, he really means it. This man keeps his promises, I'll give him that.

He's just very insecure about a lot of things, though he might not show that side of him immediately. 

If you've come across the point where Oikawa fully knows he's accepted by you, he'll show you his true colours. 

Expect him to break down in front of your -yet to be opened- front door. 

Just take the man inside and comfort him. 

He likes to be pampered.

Now, onto a bit more fluffy stuff.

This man is one hundred per cent the affectionate type. 

If he wants to feel your skin, he will do anything in his power to do so. 

Out in public but suddenly craving you? He's kissing your forehead and pushing you against his chest while holding your waist with his right arm and intertwining your hands with his left hand.

Together in one's bedroom? He'll either plop on top of you, burying his head into the crook of your neck with his body all over yours or will push you against his chest and let you rest your head in the crook of his neck while running his hands slowly through your hair until he hears your evening breaths. 

He just likes to know you're still there with him. 

Sorry buddy's, it's the insecurities.

It's also a way of apologising for the time he loses with you because of volleyball. He tries his hardest best to make the time you two have unforgettable.

If he finally got a day off, he will one hundred per cent take you on a date. 

Expect this man to go all out.

Clothes, shoes, accessories, oh yeah, and the date itself too

He almost forgot about that, but let's ignore that for now 

Okay, so these are the type of dates he would definitely take you on,

Coffeeshop dates, picnics, star-gazing, home-theatre.

Let me explain each date

Coffeeshop dates: it has to be one of those cosy, very warm atmosphere shops. He likes to see a lot a brown, dark green, some orange and of course, plants. It's an aesthetic the pretty setter loves to be surrounded by to unwind from everything going on. 

It's also a perfect colour palette for his Instagram feed.

He'd wear a grey sweater with vinyl pants and -of course- wear his glasses to add to the look. 

This mf is actually blind without them but only wears them when they match his outfit. 

Anyway, 

Picnics: Oikawa would take care of everything. The only thing you need to do is just be there. He likes to lay down with you, telling you about his day/week. The pretty scenery above your heads and in front of you keeps amazing him. He will never get tired of the prettiness Mother Nature offers. Bonus!! Bring him milk bread and he’ll spin you around before settling you back on the ground and pecking your lips ever so slightly.

Star-gazing: I see Oikawa as an intelligent human being. Besides that, he is very curious about various things. He almost always has a question about something. If he feels romantic or just simply wants to see you, he’ll call you when the sun has set, telling you he is waiting for you outside. I know for a fact that this dude has some secret hide-out since he was a child. He hasn’t shared it with anyone, not even Iwaizumi, because it was his spot to completely shut the outside world out. He really doubted whether he should tell you about it or not. But, he wanted to show you himself, all of him. He loves you too much to let you be apart of that “outside world”. Arriving at the spot, he would lay down with you in the tall grass, eyes immediately fixating on the bright stars. He would point out the zodiac signs, telling you some facts about his sign and yours (yes, he did his research). On the court, Oikawa feels big. He feels big with his team and is not afraid to lose if it were with them. But now that he lays underneath the big open sky, he realises how tiny he is in this universe. He starts to think about how lucky he is to have met you in this big universe. Expect some sappy shit and maybe some tears if he feels vulnerable. 

Home-theatre: sometimes, it’s better to stay indoors with your loved one. And Oikawa completely agrees with that. After a long week of school or work he just likes to unwind. Now, he would invite you over. And girl- when I tell you what he did. You didn’t exactly expect a fort in front of his television. But then again, we are talking about Oikawa here. It’s adorable, though. There are fairy lights all over the place, candles lit and an unnecessary amount of pillows and fluffy blankets. You both lay down and pick a movie. Settling on “Ponyo” because Oikawa once mentioned the drawing style makes him feel at ease. This man has one of his arms either wrapped around your figure or intertwined his fingers with you. He prefers to have you cuddled into him, whether that be spooning or laying on top of his chest. He just likes to keep you close. It’s these moments Oikawa cherishes the most: the domestic ones. 

Let’s hope I fed you enough fluffy content because I’m ready to flip the switch once again. 

Like I mentioned before, Oikawa is a curious man. 

And this also applies to kinks.

I know for a fact he is not scared to try out new things. He just wants two things: trust and honesty.

He wants you to trust him and trust you. He also wants you and him to be as honest as possible.

Do you not like something even though he seemed to be into it? Tell him, he wants it to be as equally enjoyable for you as it is for him.

Now, I’ve seen a lot of headcanons telling Oikawa is a switch with sub tendencies. 

I’m only gonna have to agree on the first part.

This kid is, indeed, a switch. However, he is more of a switch with dom tendencies, in my eyes.

Big on praise, like, very big. 

Secretly likes receiving more than giving, but you never heard that from me.

He also is into slight bondage. Handcuffs, ropes etc.

He likes to tie you up and block your sight. It makes him feel in control. 

Also, the way you squirm whenever he’s breathing or whispering into your ear when you least expect it, gets him rock hard every time. 

However, do the same to him and he’ll obey.

After being the fattest brat ever, of course.

#pegoikawa2020

Some other kinks he has are breath play, cockwarming, degradation, role-play, overstimulation, pain, food-play, stockings, cute lingerie and sadism.

(There are so many more kinks he likes and I want to go into detail about all of these but this shit will get too long so I won’t. Request if you want to see what I’d say about his kinks.)

He can go all out. 

But Oikawa prefers the more gentle sex where you just take time to enjoy each other’s carcasses. 

Is super vulnerable whenever that happens and has indeed broken down a couple of times during the act.

He can’t help it: he loves you too much that he can’t even keep on that facade anymore.

Aftercare with this baby is so cute. 

If the previous moments were a lot rougher, he likes to check up on you and praise you for your work. 

However, he gets you a glass of water and a towel to clean up the mess every time. 

When taken care of, he likes to plop down and just hold you as close as possible. Usually runs his fingers through your hair to confirm you’re still there with him. 

Falls asleep real quick, ngl

If I can give you a piece of advice: get up the morning after to make him breakfast

It’s something small but Oikawa really feels loved whenever he’s taking care of

Asks you to take place beside him and shares his breakfast with you

Yes, he is the type to put food into his mouth and share it with you with the help of a kiss that transfers the piece of food into your own mouth

Mornings like these are intimate and Oikawa cherishes them the most

Usually followed by just a lazy day of enjoying the presence of one another and probably some romance anime or Black Mirror binge watch.

Overall, this baby needs a lot of reassurance in his relationship. Let him know you’re there and won’t leave him (one of his, if not biggest, insecurities). Make him feel loved and let him take his time to warm up to you. Oikawa is worth the wait.

Bonus!!

Iwaizumi is so very glad to see his best friend happy. He’s very grateful you two have met. Will never not show you how much he appreciates him.

“Thank you for loving him, Y/n-san,” Iwaizumi would say, voice lowered in hopes his friend wouldn’t be eavesdropping.

“Iwa-chan! Are you flirting with my girlfriend?”

“Shut up, shittykawa! You don’t deserve someone as good as her!”

He’s just happy his best friend is finally able to share his insecurities with someone he loves so much.

You’re a blessing to the both of them. 

[chaoticpuff17]

Something Wicked

part 12

masterlist

Warning: major character death, yandere behavior, violence

Hello, my darlings. This is unfortunately the last chapter of SW except for perhaps an epilogue, but I’m still undecided on that. It’s been a ride. Thank you all so much for reading! Enjoy!--- chaotic puff

Much like everything else in her life, Jin chose her dress for the evening and embarrassingly enough, her undergarments as well. She had to admit though that the dress was flattering. Should she have expected anything less though? Nothing in the closet was particularly unflattering. Jin had picked everything so that she would match the image of the dazzling Kim Seokjin. She was long since unsurprised by any of it though. Weeks under Jin’s thumb had left her a shell of herself. She didn’t even have the dog to keep her company anymore. Jin had sent him out to a kennel in preparation for their honeymoon a week in advance. He wanted all of her focus to be on him and the wedding. The dog was deemed an unnecessary distraction. It was just another little thing that made her resent him on an ever growing list.

It was more was becoming more and more of a struggle just to keep herself together, but no one ever would have guessed from looking at her. That was what it meant to be a part of the Kim family, unending grace and poise, never a hair out of place. She had to assume that this was why the heads of the family had even gone along with Jin’s decision to marry her. Not only was he their golden son, but she was perfectly matched to their image of a daughter-in-law in all but family background. They could overlook her lack of background when she was suitable in all other categories and Jin, their most darling son, had chosen her.

She stared at herself in the mirror trying to reconcile the woman before her with the memory of who she had been before everything had happened. This woman was elegant, refined, empty, nothing more than a puppet on a string. The color of the dress made her ill. Red. Red dress. Red shoes. But it was not the bright red that was associated so commonly with weddings. No, this was a deep wine red closer to the color of the bruises so carefully hidden all across her body.

The bruises that marred her wrists were only highlighted by the color as was the hickey that Jin had so meticulously placed on her neck. The halter top of the dress did nothing to distract the eye from the offending mark, and neither did the earrings that Jin had provided her with. A thin string of diamonds fell from her ear ending at her jaw in a perfect pear shaped gem. He had even instructed her to wear her hair up. The simply pony tail she had chosen over a bun provided some cover, but it still left her neck and the mark there exposed for all to see.

Jin didn’t need to hide the marks on her body though. This was his family, and they wouldn’t question his actions. Why would they? Jin could do as he pleased. He could probably even get away with murder if he so chose. He already had if her suspicions about Minseok were correct.

The thought of her love made her heart ache. She couldn’t help the guilt that swept through her at the thought of him. If it hadn’t been for her, he would still have been alive. If she had never agreed to that first date, Jin would have had no reason to act against him. She could only hope that whatever Jin had done with him had been swift, though she doubted it. The Jin she had come to know was anything but merciful. He was many things, a narcissist being among them, but he was not merciful.

“Y/N?” He called walking into the closet where she was getting ready. “Darling?” he called again stopping with a smirk in the middle of the room as he took in the sight of her through the mirror. “You look lovely, darling. Absolutely beautiful.”

Her answer was robotic, ingrained. “Thank you, Jin.”

“Are you ready, darling? I don’t want to keep my parents waiting.”

“Yes, Jin.” She nodded turning to face him though keeping her eyes downcast in submission. He liked her submissive. It fed his ego. “I just need to grab a coat, and I’ll be ready.”

He hummed instructing her to stay where she was as he began to rifle through her side of the closet. Of course she wouldn’t be allowed to choose her own coat. How silly of her to ever think she had a choice.

He returned moments later with a black coat in hand carefully draping it over her helping her into the soft material before stepping back so she could fasten the garment around her. If there was one thing she was grateful for, it was that Jin’s fashion sense never drifted to the risqué in anything other than the array of lingerie he provided. Everything else was demure, fitting for the wife of such an important man. None of her dresses and skirts were shorter than the tops of her knees, and her necklines were always modest with only the barest hint of cleavage being revealed if any at all. Even the coat draped around her was demure. It fell down past her knees stopping at the tops of her shins. The collar was high providing coverage to her neck and half hiding the mark Jin had left there, and like everything else in her wardrobe, it was high quality.

“You look lovely in Dior, darling.” Jin murmured placing a kiss just under her jaw as she finished fastening the belt around her waist.

It was cinched more than it would have been before all of this. The stress of living under Jin’s tyranny had seen a drastic decline in her weight. She never stepped on a scale. She didn’t know where one was, but she wouldn’t have been surprised to find that she had lost twenty pounds or more over her weeks with Jin. Even her hair had suffered. Clumps of it would come out in the shower as it had in her college days during exam weeks or during times of extreme stress. She could barely recognize herself in the sharp angles and hollow eyes of the woman that stared back at her in the mirror.

“Shall we, darling?” Jin grinned offering her his arm, which she reluctantly took allowing him to lead her out of the penthouse for the first time since he had taken her.

One of the hardest pills to swallow was the look of surprise on Jin’s driver’s face when he saw her. She had known Suho for years. They had commiserated on more than one occasion on the harsh realities of working for a perfectionist like Jin, but he looked almost as though he had seen a ghost. Perhaps he had. She certainly felt like one.

“Mr. Kim.” Suho stuttered opening the door of the car for them his eyes still wide with shock.

Jin ushered her into the car first throwing Suho a harsh glare as he did. She was his to look at, not some lowly driver’s. Jin didn’t like other men staring at her, but Suho had been a loyal member of staff for years and quickly averted his gaze without another word as soon as he felt Jin’s glare upon him. He liked Y/N, but not enough to risk Jin’s wrath by attempting to speak with her or take any further notice of her.

The ride out to the family estate was silent. Jin fiddled with his phone while resting heavy hand on her thigh as they drove through the city. There was nothing for her to do but stare at the city as it went past. The path was a familiar one. She’d been to the family home before on multiple occasions. She had never suspected that it would be under these circumstances though. If someone had asked her a few months ago if she could see herself marrying Kim Seokjin, she would have laughed in their faces. She would have given anything to go back to those days, to go back to the day she had first entered Kim Seokjin’s life and turn and run for the hills. There was no use lingering on such thoughts though. This was her life, retched as it may be. She had to survive even if it meant submitting to someone as vile as Seokjin.

The house looked much like it always did, grand and imposing much like the people who inhabited it. She had never been fond of Jin’s parents. She’d always felt out of place in the large house. Seokjung was really the only member of the family that Y/N liked, but it wasn’t as if she knew him very well. That didn’t matter though. It wasn’t as if she got a say in who her in-laws were. She didn’t get a say in any of it.

When they exited the car, Mrs. Kim was standing there ready to greet them, well to greet Seokjin at least. She was an accessory on her son’s arm.

“Jinnie!” She cooed rushing forward to hug her son a smile stretched across her painted lips. “It’s been too long!”

“Eomma.” He greeted hugging her back. “This is Y/N.” He stepped back pushing her forward and bringing her to his mother’s attention.

“The assistant.” She mused staring down her nose at her. “She’s pretty at least.” She huffed taking her son by the arm and pulling him into the house with Y/N trailing behind. “Your father and I have been looking forward to seeing you. I can’t believe that my little boy is all grown up and getting married.” She sighed dramatically stopping in the foyer so that a maid could take both of their coats.  

“Son.” Mr. Kim walked into the room greeting his younger son in the stoic way that he always did. “This must be Y/N.” He nodded looking her up and down critically. “You picked well. She’s beautiful.”

“She’ll give us beautiful grandchildren.” His wife agreed looping her arm through his. “Don’t you think so, dear?”

“There’ll be plenty of time for talk of that later.” He hummed leading his wife towards the parlor for drinks as he and Jin began to talk business. Y/N trailed along her head bowed and arm looped through Jin’s.

She couldn’t help but wonder where Seokjung was. Surely he would be at a family dinner. He was her only saving grace in this nightmare of a dinner. She knew full well that he was the only one that would talk to her like a person and not just the pretty bimbo that their son was marrying. Jin certainly wasn’t going to make this evening any less awkward or her, but so far he was nowhere to be seen.

“Will Seokjung be joining us?” She dared to ask drawing the attention of the entire family to her.

Both Jin and his father stared at her with disapproval, but Jin’s mother pasted on a condescending smile. “Aren’t you sweet?” She hated the sickly sweet tone of the woman’s voice. “I’m sure he’s somewhere, maybe in the kitchen. He does so love to bother the staff in there.” She chuckled the sound grating against Y/N’s ears. “If you’re worried, you could go check on him, but I’m sure he’d be much happier eating in the kitchen than with the rest of the family.”

Y/N had to bite her tongue to keep her temper in check. It had always bothered her how the family treated Seokjung after the accident. He was paralyzed, not a pariah. “I think I will.” She pasted on a smile of her own ignoring the way look of slight annoyance and disapproval that Jin was giving her.

“Hurry back, darling.” He murmured placing a kiss on her cheek as he let her go.

She shot him a strained smile, but didn’t say anything else as she made her way towards the kitchen. It was where she normally ended up when she went to the Kim’s home. Much to her relief, Seokjung was inside when she entered the room which was oddly empty of staff.

“Hey, busy bee.” He greeted and she couldn’t help but smile at the fond nickname. It had started out mockingly when she had first met him, but it was an affectionate term now. “I see Jin finally got to you.”

“Not by choice.” She scoffed coming to take a seat across from him at the breakfast nook. “Can I ask you something?” Seokjung raised a brow taking a sip of his tea but making no move to stop her from asking. “Did Seokjin do this to you?”

The man froze something dark flashing in his eyes before it left again. He set down his cup and leveled her with a serious gaze. “And why do you ask that?” She raised a brow of her own waiting to see if he could piece things together on his own. Seokjung was by no means a stupid man despite how the rest of his family treated him. “I’m guessing the bruises on your wrists are from him.” He sighed leaning back in his chair. “How long?”

“Since this started.” She whispered staring down at the marks on her wrists. “There’s something very wrong with your brother.”

“I’m glad someone else is willing to recognize it.” He scoffed chuckling bitterly. “Yeah. This was his fault.”

“Your parents didn’t do anything?”

“Why would they? They always liked Jin better. Mother’s precious boy.” He shook his head as though clearing his thoughts before steering the attention back towards her. “How did he rope a sweet girl like you into this, bee?”

“Would you believe me if I said kidnapping?”

“He put his own brother in a wheel chair. I’d believe you.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Sweet kid like you doesn’t deserve this.”

“And you did?” She scoffed staring him down from across the table. “Your family is seriously fucked up.”

“I’m aware.” He rolled his eyes though a slight smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “How long do you have before Seokjin comes looking for you?”

“Not long.” She shudder hating the thought of going back to sit through dinner with Jin and his parents.

“Perfect.” The smile that overtook Seokjung’s face was vicious, his eyes too bright, too manic.

“What are you…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Jin had entered the room immediately zeroing in on her. “There you are, darling.” He walked over a frown on his face as he looked between her and his brother. “We were wondering what was taking you so long.”

He reached for her wrist only to freeze as a harsh thud sounded through the kitchen sending Jin crashing to the floor. Y/N watched in horror as Seokjung raised a pipe she hadn’t even been aware that he had up bringing it down on the disoriented Jin’s head with a sickening crack.

There was an odd sense of satisfaction that filled her as she watched a puddle of red almost the color of her dress form under Jin’s head.

“What…why?” Her gaze flitted back to Seokjung who was staring down at his brother with burning hatred.

“It’s time he got what was coming to him, rotten bastard.” He spat bringing the pipe down on his brother’s head again, Y/N flinching at the sight of it.

“Oh god…” She whispered her gaze flitting back to the growing puddle on the floor.

“Bee… bee!” Seokjung’s voice pulled her attention back to him before she could begin to spiral. “Do you wanna get out of here or not?” he asked his serious gaze keeping her pinned in place.

“What?”

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“More than anything.”

Seokjung nodded pulling a two bags out from the next to him at the breakfast nook and setting them on the table between them. “There’s a change of clothes in that bag. The tote has passport and a ticket on a flight leaving Korea later tonight as well as all the paperwork you’ll need to start a new life.”

Her head was reeling try to make sense of what was going on. “I don’t…”

“If you stay here my family is going to try to pin this on you. They can’t do that if you’re not here.”

“What are you… You planned this.” She breathed out in quite awe tinged with a little horror at the thought.

“You’ve given me the opportunity I’ve been looking for for ages. He’d never come visit me on his own, but he does so love to brag, and you’re the only one that would come looking for me in this hellhole.” He nudged the body with the pipe. “You’ve done me a favor, busy bee.”

“You killed him.”

“An eye for an eye.” He shrugged. “I’m just taking back what he took from me. Now do you want to get out of here or not?”

“More than anything.” She whispered pulling the bags towards her. “What about my dog?”

“Go to the states. Start fresh. I’ll send him along once you’re settled.” He ordered humming in approval as she began to move. “I have my driver waiting outside waiting to take you to the airport. You’re home free, bee. There’s even a phone in there. It’s got my number if you need anything.”

She stood up carefully avoiding the body and the blood as well as she could. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“You’re a sweet girl, bee, and you’ve always been kind to me. Don’t rat me out, and we can both be living the good life.”

She nodded letting the realization that he was giving her an out, a real out, settle in. “Okay…. Okay.”

“What will your parents say?”

He scoffed rolling himself back from the table. “You leave them to me. Now get out of here before they come looking for their precious son.”

She nodded resolutely making her way towards the door leading to the back entrance to the Kim house. “Thank you.”

“Good luck, busy bee.”

She made it to the door before turning back to look at Seokjung one last time before she left behind his crazy family for good. He nodded urging her to leave, a manic gleam in his eyes. He was enjoying this far too much, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. He’d set her free, and she’d take his secret to the grave.

She smiled, her first real smile in weeks. “Give them hell.”

“I plan to.”  

 epilogue....

[kingreywrites]

Our Paint Chips Away

Fandom: Tangled

Word Count: 2865

New Dream Appreciation Week Day Seven: Memories

Summary: In the aftermath of Pascal running away from home, Eugene can't sleep. He keeps thinking about seeing the tower again, for the first time since... since it all went down. He also keeps thinking about the way Rapunzel went inside alone, and how he hadn't been sure he could have followed her in if she asked.

Note: this story is a coda to Pascal’s story!! not sure it fits the prompt but when am i ever afgsgdh it’s very late because inspiration struck me uh... very late too, but i hope you’ll still enjoy it!! this week was amazing, thanks to @gleamful-lanterns and @autumn-ravenclaw for organising it!! <3

Read on ao3

The day Pascal ran away, Eugene saw the tower again for the first time in more than half a year. Rapunzel did, too. It was way more difficult for her than it could ever be for him, because the tower had been her home and her prison for eighteen long years, and he knew it, he knew that she needed all the support he could give. His heart broke when she stumbled back, her voice trembling, but she had always been brave, and she raised herself up again, ready to confront her worst nightmare. She needed to go up there alone, and he was worried, of course he was, but he also felt incredibly proud, because she was the most courageous person he knew, and he admired her more than anyone.

More than himself, for sure.

Because the thing was, he shouldn't be scared. Or a little maybe, but certainly not more than her. After all, he hadn't even spent the equivalent of a whole day in this tower and like, the whole death thing had lasted for what, thirty minutes tops? If Rapunzel could find the courage in herself to brave the tower, he should too.

But he couldn't. His stomach was twisting on itself as he held Rapunzel close to him, and his hands were trembling, and his throat was so dry he worried the girls could hear it as he tried weakly to make light of the situation. He didn't want to be here. And when Rapunzel said she was going in alone, the relief in his heart might as well have been poison for how sick it made him feel. He should... He should have tried to help her, but he couldn't.

If she had asked him to come with her inside, would he have been able to?

The question started to haunt him as soon as he sat on Maximus to wait, hoping the horse couldn't feel how jittery he was. It haunted him for the entire time she was inside, and he couldn't see what was happening to her, couldn't know if everything was okay. It haunted him as he tried his hardest not to look to the spot where he knew Gothel fell, where he remembered digging a shallow grave with Rapunzel to bury what was left of the woman she thought to be her mother for most of her life. (It was nothing more than folded clothes, and some ashes, but they had tried their best.)

It kept haunting him even when she came back down, with Pascal in her hands, looking emotional but happy and safe. He held her tightly on the ride back, hoping to bring her comfort just as much as he was trying to ignore the dread still sitting heavy on his chest.

This was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Because even when Rapunzel went to sleep, still giving all her attention to Pascal because the little guy deserved it, Eugene couldn’t shake his own uneasiness. His mind kept going back to the tower, and to that door he hadn’t been able to cross, despite wanting to. If Rapunzel had needed help, would he have been able to go up there? Was he really so much of a coward that some bad memories were enough to stop him from supporting the love of his life when she most needed it?

Eugene couldn't sleep. He… He wanted to think that he could have overcome his fears if the situation called for it, but the fact was - he didn't.

Before he could think better of it, Eugene pushed his cover off abruptly, and got up. He put on his clothes quickly, and laced his shoes with trembling hands. He- he needed to prove to himself that he could do it. It was even better that way, he rationalised; he could come to terms with whatever was troubling him without bothering anyone, especially not Rapunzel. He'd go in the tower, see that it was no big deal, and come back to the castle before the sun was up.

Flawless plan, no doubt.

It wasn't too hard finding a horse that was neither Max nor Fidella, and the path to the tower was burnt into his mind. He hadn't expected to go there earlier, and the surprise had made him fumble with his words as his heart sank, but he was ready now. He was ready, and so it made no sense for his pulse to get faster, or for his hands to clench tighter around the reins. He was…

He was fine. He repeated that to himself, as he dismounted the horse, and came face to face with the tower again, heart in his throat. Vaguely, he noticed that he had never seen the tower at night - he had truly not been here long enough for that to happen. That was all the more reason to not be scared, he told himself, trying to ignore how menacing it seemed, looming over him with the moonlight shining down on it.

He could do this. He should do this, just to show he could, and that was it. Just in and out, no one would have to know, and he could sleep in peace that night.

So why was he stuck in front of the door? His right hand laid flat on the cold stones of the tower, and he felt frozen in place, heartbeat echoing loudly in his head. He had gone down this way once, after he- after Rapunzel brought him back. He had been on those stairs, and he hadn’t cared, because he was too worried about Rapunzel's state of mind to be scared of a tower… So why was he now?

The chilly air of the night made him shudder. He clenched his jaw tightly.

"Okay," he muttered, "in and out, I'm just going in and out."

Eugene took a step. Then another. The stairs were dark, the walls covered in moss, and it all smelled of dust. This was an abandoned tower, which couldn't hurt him, and he just had to get over it.

Rapunzel hadn't put back the panel blocking the entry. Eugene climbed up easily, and there he was.

In the tower. For the first time since-

Shaking his head, Eugene started to dust off his clothes, before surveilling the room around him. He hadn't spent a lot of time within these walls, and yet they were sickeningly familiar, even in the darkness.

Around him, still on the floor, was Rapunzel's hair. The one he had-

Before he could try to stop himself, his eyes traveled to the window, and to the staircase where the- the chains that had held him were lying broken, just like they had left them. They hadn't known what to do with them back then. He had still been dizzy, though it was more from fear than blood loss, and Rapunzel had been scared and lost and… They had just left, without looking back.

He took a trembling step towards it. He was alive, he repeated to himself. He was alive, Rapunzel had saved him, and this was simply a place, nothing more. He had no reason to be scared, because he was alive and-

He still remembered how cold he had been, barely able to hold himself up as his own blood coated his side.

Eugene felt himself pale at the memory, and he stumbled back ungracefully, wavering in place as he tried to stay on his feet. He was- he was stupid, this was just a tower, and he- Rapunzel had surmounted it, and he needed to- to-

He had backed himself to the other side of the room. The side right across from the window, the… The side where Rapunzel had been held in chains, fighting to get free as her screams for him were muffled by-

This time, when Eugene tried to get away unsteadily, he tripped on his own feet and fell down heavily. His breathing was loud, and he knew he was well and truly pathetic. This was Rapunzel's tower. The place where she had suffered for eighteen years, trapped with the woman who called herself her mother. And despite the pain and the fear she undoubtedly faced, Rapunzel went up here, and she was fine. Definitely shaken up, but fine.

So why couldn't he be?

He knew she was stronger than he had ever been. She showed it everyday, when she overcame challenges after challenges, while staying optimistic even through the bad times. Eugene simply… He simply wanted to know that she could count on him, even in the hardest moments. He wanted to be able to stay at her side if she asked, no matter the place. But here he was, sitting defeated on the ground, because a few memories made him so tense he trembled.

Eugene closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. He just- he was… He needed to get a hold of himself. He needed to move on from this, because everyone thought he did already, and he- he- well, Rapunzel knew he still struggled sometimes, with the nightmares and the memories, but he needed to be fine, he…

He was scared.

His nails were biting into his palms. He opened his eyes slowly, looking down at the wall to avoid looking at anything that might make him panic again, when he saw it.

The small, uncertain lines of a drawing obviously made by a kid. The scribble was messy, but it was easy to recognise who it was supposed to be - a girl with long blond hair and a smile too big for her face.

Rapunzel.

Slowly, he moved closer, his hand brushing the wood faintly. She had to have been… so young, when she did this. Nowhere near the artist she was now, but with as much joy and imagination, trying to create something to express it. There was a little sun next to the drawing, its rays uneven. It was so easy, to imagine a small, maybe five or six years old Rapunzel, doodling away with a smile on her face.

Eugene let his eyes wander softly on these walls. He got up again, still feeling numb, his gaze going up to more refined drawings, with different styles and quality as Rapunzel experimented. No matter what, though, they were always bright and sunny. There were plants, and birds, and so many Rapunzels smiling and laughing, their hair flowing with an invisible wind.

Each painting, each stroke, hid a part of Rapunzel within it. It was her, so young still, scribbling a sun with too many branches, remembering without knowing the kingdom that was missing her dearly. It was her, growing up, painting flowers upon flowers even though she could barely see some of them through her window, imagining a world she wasn't allowed to live in. It was her, charting the stars on her wall, a painting he could only slightly see in the darkness, but knew was here because she had told him of much time and patience she had needed for that.

He couldn't even see half of it from where he was, but already, he had gotten a glimpse into the world that was hers not too long ago. And… And he was still scared. He still couldn't look at the exact spot where he died, not when there was nothing here to do but think about it.

But, as he was gently tracing the contours of a little Rapunzel, looking longingly at a bird flying next to her, Eugene felt a small smile forming on his lips. This tower was full of memories. Some were painful. Some were not. It was the place that Rapunzel turned into her world, while she waited to be allowed into the real one. It was the place where she grew up, braver and kinder than anyone could have been in her situation. It was also the place where he met her, completely thrown by this determined girl with a lot of hair and a frying pan she wasn't afraid to use. It was a place full of memories, yes, but these memories were hers - these memories were theirs, and there was nothing about Rapunzel that Eugene could hate.

This tower hadn't been their ending. It had been their beginning. Rapunzel's beginning. And Eugene was still eager to leave, hoping to never come back again, but he had his answer now.

For her, he would brave anything.

------

There was a soft knock at her door. Rapunzel nearly didn't hear it - she had been asleep, after all, and had a pretty long and tiring day before that, so she could have missed it really easily… but she didn't. Opening her heavy eyes slowly, she sat up, careful to not wake up Pascal at her side. It was still night, but the sky was getting clearer, so the sun had to be coming up soon.

"Yes?" she whispered, unsure that the person behind her door would hear it.

The door opened to a crack, and Eugene poked his head through.

"Eugene?"

"Hi, uh…" he trailed off, looking embarrassed. She waved him closer, faintly concerned because Eugene never seeked her during the night. He shuffled forward, and she noticed he wasn't wearing his night outfit - had he even slept yet?

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, glancing down to make sure Pascal was still sleeping as she straightened up. "Are you- Did you have a nightmare?"

Usually, she was the one knocking at his door because of them. She knew he had some too, but he always tried to keep them to himself, so the fact that he was here, avoiding her gaze, immediately made her more alert.

"Something like that, I guess... I- I needed you," he admitted in a breath, something indescriptible in his eyes as he finally met hers. "Sorry, I-"

"Come here," she said, patting the empty space to her right. He didn't even protest, instead coming to sit next to her, throwing a glance at Pascal too to make sure the little guy wasn't bothered. Eugene was more thoughtful that he admitted, and she loved him for it - though right now, she was more worried about what was bothering him.

He looked at her, his eyes soft, and full of an emotion she couldn't name. Before she could ask him again if something was wrong, he gently brought her into a hug, and she held him back tightly against her.

"I'm fine," he mumbled, "please don't worry, I just…"

"Needed to see me?" she finished softly. He nodded. "Okay," she whispered, before adding: "You can sleep here if you want."

He hesitated a little, and nodded again. It was a little awkward, but they both shuffled under the covers, one of her hands in his and the other resting on his chest.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Maybe not right now," he murmured after a while, gaze wandering to her walls. "Did I ever tell you I loved the mural you painted?"

"Yes," she smiled, her eyes still on him. "You always compliment my paintings." She didn't say that she was still surprised, sometimes, that he did. Gothel had nothing against her paintings as long as it didn't inconvenience her, but she also never encouraged it, or even told Rapunzel she was good at it. Having someone in her life genuinely appreciate her creations always made her heart flutter.

"Do you plan to do more? Like…" His free hand vaguely gestured at her still blank ceiling. "That part?"

"I… Yes, I think so. I simply… I want it to mean something," she whispered. "In the tower, I painted every little things that came to mind. Birds, flowers, pretty dresses… Painting helped me feel better when I was lonely, or scared." He was looking at her again, now. His eyes were shining in the darkness. "But now, painting isn't my only source of freedom," she grinned, squeezing his hand tighter, "and I want… I want my room to be full of meaningful memories for me. Things that I can look up to and be proud to have lived through, if that makes sense."

"It does," he breathed, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

"I still haven't figured out what it'll be," she admitted, caressing the side of his jaw, "but I know already that you will be there for all these new memories."

His eyes widened, before he softened again, looking way more comfortable and sleepy than when he first came in. "I can't wait," he whispered, voice full of emotions.

"I can't either," she whispered back, slowly brushing his hair away as he relaxed.

It had been a difficult day for both of them, she knew. Eugene joked a lot when he was scared, and she… She was glad he came to her, in the end. She was glad he was there with her when she needed him, and she could do the same thing when he needed her. Looking up at the blank space she still needed to fill, she knew that, no matter what, she would treasure all the new memories she made with him.

She really couldn't wait.

[rymndsmth]

querencia (jang han seo)

🎤 hello and gather around fellow himbo lovers, here is a small fic about our beloved and his life after That guy kicks the bucket. also idk how i managed to turn this into a love story? anyways lmfao, hope y’all enjoy! 

Everything felt so different.

Truthfully, Han Seo never imagined what his life could be like, would be like, without the proverbial ever tightening noose around his neck. One that had been unexpectedly and disappointingly placed on him as a child by the one person that was supposed to remove such things. He was now free of that person, and the fear that stemmed from veering off the path set by them, but wasn’t entirely too certain that he was free of that feeling. 

His muscles couldn’t shake it. The sudden chill to the bone, the anticipation of retaliation from an act that hadn’t yet occurred. Such an act that could never occur anymore given that his brother was dead. He knew this, but his mind had never been good at accepting possibilities that were positive. 

This much was evident in the case of his relationship with Vincenzo. There was no reason why the stoic yet baby faced Mafia member would want to keep him around, at least not any that he could see. So, Han Seo spent the first few weeks asking the question both silently and aloud, will you kill me? Vincenzo had the motive, it’s not exactly like his hands were clean in his previous dealings with Babel, and he most certainly had the means.

It wasn’t until Han Seo was told that because he was trying to make amends, he wouldn’t end up in the Jang family crypt well before his time that he started to feel at ease. Still, for months after that conversation, he still had the nagging feeling that some invisible fist was lurking around every bend. 

Regardless of that, Han Seo decided he would not waste his liberation however short lived it might have been. He made up his mind that he was going to do all the things that he was either too scared or outright forbidden to do before. The first thing on his list was to clean up his business. Luckily for him, the Guillotine file made it easy to weed out the snakes in the grass and allow him to steer Babel in the direction that the core of the business was about. 

The hardest part was going to be restoring the public’s faith in the organization. Cha Young told him as much, and advised him not to agonize over it as there will be new corruption that will grab their attention (and hers). He intended to be the Chairman that such a company deserved, and therefore continued to study no matter how nonsensical and outdated the information seemed. 

The second order of business was moving out of the place that felt more like a prison than a home to one that he liked. The realtor immediately recommended a few luxury places, but he turned them down to their surprise. Maybe it was due to the fact that he had seen what the quest for material wealth had done to his family (or more realistically because he wanted to be closer to newfound hyung  and his girlfriend). 

Either way, the house he settled on had its luxuries, but in a more affordable and quaint neighborhood. Han Seo even went as far as to attempt painting on his own, which went as well as expected for someone that didn’t even know the difference between a brush and a roller. 

Being able to do what he wanted proved to be chaotic at times. There was no one to stop him from going on last minute trips to Jeju just for oranges and a quick dip into the ocean. Or to take away all the sweet and savory snacks that he found at these things called convenience stores. 

He would stay up all night sometimes, not to binge watch all the shows he missed out on, but just to sit in silence. He didn’t know that the quiet could be so nice. That it was a space of tranquility and relaxation rather than one filled with anxiety. Of course, Han Seo more often than not regretted the choice not to sleep and ended up at the cafe a few blocks from his place. 

While obviously no one had better coffee than the one at Babel, he found himself going to the cozy spot with increasing frequency because of her. The first time he saw her, she was deciding on which apple to choose from the basket beside the register. He then noticed that her canvas bag was filled with art supplies, and decided that it was a brilliant idea to draw a conclusion. 

I think the one to the right would make a great subject on paper, he grinned. 

She stared at him in a way that made him contemplate whether to not she was related to Vincenzo hyung before replying flatly:

I’m looking for the tartest one to go with my tea. 

He was left a bumbling mess of flustered sounds and rapidly blinks, not getting the opportunity to insert some retort that undoubtably would’ve put him deeper into the realm of idiot. 

The following morning he went again. No cup of coffee, not even the ridiculously overpriced espresso at Babel, would give him that jolt of electricity he felt under her gaze. And sure enough, she was there. This time her apple sat upon a folded napkin right beside her tea, and in front of them both was her sketchpad. On the page? A picture of the fruit. He couldn’t control the noise of exasperation that left him as he passed her table. On his way out he tossed over his shoulder with a grin so wide it hurt:

Nice drawing. 

Their interactions continued in that same vein. Short, filled with just the right amount of bite. The balance of who had the best and last say constantly shifting, becoming somewhat of a competition. 

You’re outside today, is that weed your subject?

As if there weren’t enough clowns in this neighborhood already.

You buy a lot of lattes for an artist that’s supposed to be starving.

Ironic coming from the gentrifier walking around a working class neighborhood in thousand dollar shoes.  

He had look up what that g word meant after their last exchange.

There was something else he never got to do in his past. Sure, Han Seo had the occasional date or two, but commitment? That was out of the question. It wouldn’t have served his brother well if there was anyone around that would motivate him to step out from his hold. The realization that he never had a serious relationship hadn’t hit him until he started to have inconvenient thoughts during board meetings about stuff like taking a long afternoon stroll, and holding hands with her.

Han Seo could barely focus on the stack of jargon dense reading before him. He sent Vincenzo a text saying that he was coming over with soju, not waiting for a reply before making the short journey to Geumga. Cha Young’s face fell when she answered the door, muttering that she thought he was her delivery, but lit up once she saw he brought along alcohol. After poking around the rice he begged for them to share and sighing loudly for half an hour, Vincenzo ushered him out. He implored him to get a hobby so that these late night visits wouldn’t become a habit.  

He was confused by that. Weren’t studying and running a company hobbies? On his walk back home he spotted a flyer that someone was offering private classes for beginners painting. The nightmare of a time he had trying to get the walls in his kitchen evenly colored popped up in his brain, instantly making him tear off one of the numbers. He didn’t exactly know how learning to paint homes was going to be a practical hobby, but hell, he would have something to show Vincenzo later. 

While he was on one of his impromptu trips to the seaside, Han Seo had his assistant set up the class for him to take when he returned. As a gift for the instructor, he thought it would be nice to bring them an extra bag of oranges. If the session sucked, or if he hated it, at the very least there was going to be something to brighten the mood. 

The day he got back, he even went as far as to tidy up the place on his own and put some fresh flowers around so the air was lightly scented. He practically waited at the door until the alarm sounded to let him know that his instructor arrived. 

Is this a joke? She huffed.

No, I didn’t even know you were the teacher! His protest was adamant. I was on a trip and even brought back Jeju- He paused. Han Seo knew he wasn’t the brightest, but bringing up the oranges seemed like it would upset her given their previous history. 

You brought back what? Her brow raised.

Mmm, good energy! Don’t you feel the vibes from the ocean? He spread his arms wide. 

Han Seo waved her inside hurriedly, trying desperately to get past the awkward exchange. Of all people, he never would’ve thought it would be the neighborhood’s cute sass machine. A small noise of happiness couldn’t be stopped from escaping him as she accepted the invitation. Her eyes scanned the place without restraint, nose wrinkling when she took a look at the kitchen. 

Where are your supplies? A slender finger ran across the surface of his counter. 

Supplies? He thought that was included in the price for the lessons. 

She sighed, placing a sketchbook, brushes, and small pots of paint onto the table. It was now very apparent to him that the advertisement did not mean what he thought it did. Thank goodness he also didn’t decide to open his mouth about that beforehand, it probably would’ve made her smack him with her bag. 

Here, the materials were slid over when he sat. Paint something.

His facial expression surely mirrored what he was thinking. Han Seo had no recollection of ever trying to do this, not even during the course of his way overpriced private school education. She urged him on with a nod, only relaxing into her chair when he flipped open the book and picked up a fine brush. 

There was nothing in particular he wanted to paint. Hell, he didn’t even know if he wanted to paint at all. This was simply something random that came up when he needed it. 

To avoid being chastised, he dipped his brush into the light blue color and started swiping randomly across the blank page. He swapped the brush and added some dark green, then pink, and finished if off with small dots of white. At the end it looked like something a toddler would’ve considered a masterpiece. She eyed it with surprising interest. 

You clearly didn’t know what you wanted to achieve with this, or why you were doing it at all. 

Han Seo was about to interject with a prideful defense before she continued. 

That’s good. It’s better to work with an unbiased mind. Her eyes met his. Your technique is shit though. 

He laughed, like truly laughed. It was a full bellied, unashamedly loud, attack of sonic waves. She seemed to find it amusing, a hint of a smile dancing across her lips. 

Alright, let’s start with how to actually hold a paintbrush. 

There was no telling when their interactions had gone from less than playful banter to warm and friendly (still with a side of joking). Han Seo couldn’t put his finger on it. Did it happen during the second lesson where he mistakenly put paint on her hands, and didn’t settle for no when he said he would wash them off for her? 

Or was it the time he was running late for work, but the barista already had his order prepared because she told them that he was on the way? Perhaps it was the time she had to reschedule their Saturday morning for the evening instead, and all he could think about was trying to replicate the color of her alcohol flushed cheeks onto the page before him. 

Han Seo had never done the whole confession thing before, so he wasn’t sure about how it worked. An unfamiliar kind of anxiety crept up his spine as he poured glasses of wine and organized a fruit plate. Soft music played in the background accompanied by the crackle of the expensive candles he bought specifically for the occasion. Her mouth parted slightly as she took everything in once she arrived for what was supposed to be an ordinary session involving watercolors. 

Wow, got a hot date later or something? Her legs seemed to automatically take her to the table. 

Actually, He brought the glasses over to where she sat. It’s for you. 

Oh…She gasped. A few seconds passed that felt more like minutes before she picked one up and held it high. Cheers then!

Something about it made him feel like he made a mistake. Did he misread their change in demeanor towards one another? Was she truly just being kinder to him because she considered him to only be a friend? Han Seo tried to not let the embarrassment he felt seep into the room, keeping a smile locked and loaded for when she made a witty remark about stuff like him painting in the most inappropriate white button down. 

Don’t you have something to say to me? She quipped, neatly putting her things away after he finished. 

Me? I- no…I... He clenched his fists. Why couldn’t he come out and say it?! This was as good as a chance as he was ever going to get. If he let this opportunity slip, he wasn’t sure if there would be one again. He had to act, he had to-

What sounded like a small growl came from her as she raked her hand through her hair. She pulled him closer by the collar of his shirt, her nose just shy of rubbing against his. 

Jang Han Seo, when are you gonna stop driving me insane? She murmured, labored breaths dancing across his cupid’s bow. 

If only she knew how true and reciprocated that question was to him too. From the moment he couldn’t fight against thoughts about her entering his mind, to the smile she wore when he stepped across his threshold, and the way she said his goddamned name, it was all enough to make him want to combust. To burst out of his skin, transforming into something or someone else entirely. A person that fully accepted that there were no more restraints on their lives, that they was no more fear and no more betrayal. Someone that was completely in control, and free to take what was theirs. And so he did. 

It was painful, almost, the first time he kissed her. The second time even more so. By the third time, coupled with the question of her tongue prodding at his bottom lip, Han Seo had shedded the last of his previous being. He cupped her face, thumbs toying with her curled sideburns as he consumed her. Quiet whimpers made way for desperate cries, shivers were replaced by the searing heat of skin on skin. 

The high he’d chased fruitlessly so many times throughout his life was finally achieved with his arms wrapped tightly around her, their bodies pressed together as she shuddered and sighed his name. He was in disbelief that what he had experienced was real, so he chased it again and again, receiving the same result each time his sweat slicked forehead bowed to meet hers. 

Han Seo would learn that it could be obtained outside of that space they filled with the tangible evidence of their desire. It was also in buying melon flavored ice pops to eat in the park together on sunny days. The look on Vincenzo and Cha Young’s face when he timidly made the introduction. Her expression when she took her first bite of Hee Soo’s tteokbokki. When Mr. Nam and her had an hour long debate on which shade of red made the most realistic fake blood color. The flashing Best Chairman Ever coming from her phone when Babel secured their biggest deal yet without any dirty deals behind the scenes. 

That feeling, one that outshone the other by such a long shot that it was nearly eradicated, had been there all along in the life he’d made. She just helped him see it.  

[byakuyasdarling]

Ah yes, Pokémon rivals; my favourite topic

Warning: this list is massively biased. I (kinda jokingly) rag on every ‘Awful’ tier rival, so if you don’t want to here that, feel free to skip that explanation. I am pretty harsh with Marnie, I know a lot of people like her, so if you do like her PLEASE don’t read her section because I do not want to upset anyone. 

Also, I do ramble a bit how I like SWSH but they are my personal least favourite games (which is a hot take, I know), so if that would upset you please skip. Take care of yourselves <33

I created the politically correct ranking of Pokémon rivals (/j)

Anyway, epic explanation under the cut:

*if N was on this list he would fall under “Amazing”. Breath-taking story, breath-taking development, great theme songs, awesome character, fantastic team.

Why Blue is in S rank (very long explanation compared to the rest)

You cannot tell me Blue (or Green, or Gary, whatever you want to call the main Kanto rival) isn’t THE BEST RIVAL EVER. They got it SO RIGHT. He inspires hatred, AND sympathy. Literally, his grandad, the only living relative aside from his sister we even know about, loves you (the player) more than him and it’s kind of sad. 

Blue is great, he has a crappy pronunciation of ‘Bonjour’ (see Pokémon Masters), he says ‘smell ya later!’ he has class, swag, and is by no doubt the most challenging rival character. He is the only rival I never swept on a normal run. He is always demeaning you; he is always one step ahead all the way up until the champion battle where you finally beat him. AND HIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT OMG.

He still is arrogant and prideful, but respects people and wants to guide people to be better at Pokémon battling and thrives when he sees others succeeding - he doesn’t mind being ‘a former champion’. HECK HE’S SO COOL AND AMAZING. 

Also he has the best champion theme and encounter theme ever. Yes, he was a previous F/O so I am super biased; but so were 3 others on this list. 

Silver and Gladion

These two were my F/Os when I was much younger (around 12). They are great rivals with great development and story arcs. Plus, they have bopper encounter themes and battle themes. Gladion was my real introduction to the oc x canon community and inspired me to take drawing on as a hobby (as well as Lillie but I did not end up drawing her as much). 

Brendan, Cheren, Hugh, and Barry

When I was 10 playing Omega Ruby, I liked Brendan a lot (so... another past F/O... he’s the final one though). I dunno, he genuinely had a good friendship with that extra spice of rivalry with our character, May. I do not like friendly rivals (if my listing wasn’t obvious), but Brendan did it right. There was a lot of touching scenes with him and May *cough*cough* Delta Chapter *cough*cough* which really made me connect with him when I was 10. Now, Brendan and May are interchangeable depending on which one of them you pick to play as, so why have I ranked Bredan far above May? Better encounter and battle theme (yes, they have different instrumentation) and he gets the childhood crush pass.

Cheren is cool, I just really like his character and his attempts to create a good strategy. He is really dedicated to what he loves and becomes a gym leader (like BLUE DID. Blue has it all, really). Plus, glasses are cute :) (he is the same age as me, I can legally say that even though that was an obvious nod to Byakuya but you never know what people will take out of context). 

Hugh is cool becomes he somewhat feels like an asshole rival, but at the same time, has a really soft side. Like, his whole motivation to be a good trainer is to save his sister’s Purrloin that was stolen by Team Plasma. He is a hero y’all. Also GREAT encounter and battle theme; huge thumbs up. 

Barry! My man! Overall, cool rival with a great team. He is the second hardest rival to me (but Blue is harder than him by a landslide still). He is really funny in both the games and the anime and despite being a bit more friendly, he still sparks a lot of rivalry with you. Plus, his dad is battle frontier brain Palmer! How awesome! He was also my first rival, so that’s something special to me too. 

Average Tier

I like Hau as a character, he feels like a genuine friend and how he develops with the main character and Lillie is really wholesome. It’s just - I dislike him as a rival, a lot. Easy fights, not the best encounter theme... just kind of there. I get why people consider Gladion as ‘the true rival’ of S and M because he really is. Hau is also a rival that chooses the starter WEAK to your starter like the gen 6 rivals (who I hate with my entire being). 

Wally had a bad-ass final battle theme song and moment. That’s literally the only reason he makes the average tier. If this was a ranking disregarding ORAS he is easily down in the ‘Awful’ tier. 

I like Pokémon Sword and Shield... except I just don’t like them as much as every other game (yes. I did play Pokémon Yellow and enjoyed it more, thank you). I know you all HATE that, but that is just my opinion - I think I have earned the right to say that after my almost 12 years of playing these games and being a VGC player for a few years. It has good characters and some cool Pokémon and yeah... gameplay? Lacklustre. I really do not know what went wrong outside of story. Somehow the competitive battle scene is not the fun it used to be. Dynamax bugs me, the lack of megas bugs me, the dex cut REALLY bugs me. I know I am not the only one who thought this game lacked the charm other Pokemon games have. Graphically though, it’s very nice for the most part.

I have gone way off-topic, but anyway, yeah. SWSH rivals make average because I like their characters (especially Hop’s development). Outside of that, not the best rivals.

May is cool for a lot of the reasons I discussed with Brendan.

Lacking Tier

I like Bianca’s whole deal with her dad and how Elesa has a nice moment to shine too - and that’s it. I know the whole theme of her team is friendship but I die inside every time I watch a Chandelure uses RETURN. It was cool she returned in BW2 I guess? I like how her battle theme matches her personality, but it isn’t anything to write home about. 

I like Calem a bit more than Serena but I do not want to pull another Brendan and May (even though I had some good reason to do that) and I’m going to put them here. Bad teams and not memorable in the slightest, Calem and Serena belong in this tier. 

Awful Tier

X and Y rivals amirite??? They just suck. They are annoying and they suck. They have 3 Pokémon in all final fights, really? At least Shauna is likeable in the anime. 

I hate Trace. But, he has one funny memory I have with my dad that makes him slightly better. We both named him ‘Blue’ since Blue is the actual Kanto rival, but then Blue showed up in LGPE... And then the two ‘Blues’ talked to each other and it was mildly amusing at the time. Anyway, he didn’t deserve Blue’s champion theme (which is even used for Blue in later games outside of his champion battle (BW2), THAT IS NOT TRACE’S THEME. Anyway, he is the gross friendly rival that attempted to fulfil the best rival’s shoes. Sorry Trace, bad luck my dude. 

I just never attached to Marnie I suppose, but I can understand that she is important to those who are invested in her. I am about to fully rag on Marnie, so please skip if that makes you upset. 

 I am going to hurt a lot of people when I said I never liked Marnie. She was always just... like why do people like her so much?? I feel like most people like her because she is ‘funny haha goth gf’ which, fair I suppose. I just think she is super lacking as a rival, she makes no real impression as an actual character, and I think if you removed her from the game it wouldn’t make a difference. Don’t want to be that guy, but I AM that guy right now. I suppose she has a cute design?? and that’s it. Again, I am really biased when it comes to SWSH and rivals, so I suppose she really got the short end of the stick with me.

[regency-gardens]

Tethered Hearts- part 3/3- ALTERNATE ENDING

A/N: surprise! two endings! read the original ending (and the much less mainful ending here)

warnings: angst, heartbreak

word count: 1,550 

published: feb. 27. 21

series masterlist

Benedict rode through the night, going over his speech countless times until he was sure he could say it backward. Sleep evaded him despite the carriage being quite comfortable; His nerves and the bumpy dirt roads kept him awake. He eventually forced himself to focus on something other than the disaster of his love life and he took to sketching, as usual. 

Drawing within the last few weeks was nearly impossible for him. He could never focus long enough or he was never pleased with the product. his hands never seemed to corporate. This time he tried to draw something that he thought would make him feel happy, at least for the time being. He started to draw two hands intertwined and imagined it was his and y/n, wearing wedding rings. All this did was remind him of how happy he could have been if he hadn't been so selfish.

The Y/L/N country home was a sight to behold. It overlooked a small lake surrounded by trees that provided a home to countless wildlife. The garden was home to a variety of wildflowers and shrubs with lemon trees dotted about. The front of the home was a beautiful work of masonry with climbing vines reaching up the first story and balconies decorated with even more greenery. Stone steps lead down to the lawn where the gardeners worked tirelessly on the upkeep of the statues and fountains in the middle of a circular cobbled walkway. It was a welcoming, lively home, but the sight of it made Benedict's stomach do backflips. She was so close.

The early morning sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon, illuminating the foggy countryside. The birds were chirping and roosters could be heard faintly in the distance welcoming the new day. A long inhale of the fresh morning air seemed to settle benedict’s nerves just a little. He wiped his sweaty palms on his trousers and tried to fix his hair as best he could. It was bad enough he was bothering her so early and unannounced, he could at least look presentable. The tired eye bags would make that difficult. 

Meanwhile, in the Y/L/N home, y/n’s maid was just waking up when she heard the faint sound of approaching horses. She peeled back the drawing-room drapes and saw the black Bridgerton carriage quickly approaching.

“Oh my! Miss y/n!”

She ran down the hall and up the stairs as fast as her legs could carry her. She burst through y/n’s bedroom doors, panting. Yn, having been startled awake, sat up confused. Benedict's letters were still scattered around the bed.

“What on earth? Marta, what’s happened?”

“He’s here! Mr. Bridgerton is here!” y/n’s throat went dry and she immediately sprang from the bed and rushed to the window just in time to see the carriage door come to a stop at the steps. Without a second thought, she ran as fast as she could downstairs, not even taking the time to put on shoes. 

Benedict took a deep breath before reaching for the handle of the carriage. With a final rush of courage, he hopped out. At the same time, y/n appeared through the front doors and stopped at the top of the steps. She was looking down at him and suddenly he forgot everything he wanted to say. She was ethereal. The sight of Her long white nightgown and wild hair was something he had never seen before and he couldn’t get enough. 

There was a silence as they waited for each other to say something. When it became clear she wasn’t going to say anything, Benedict cleared his throat.

“I'm sorry to have bothered you so early in the morning. It couldn’t wait.”

Her expression was unreadable and it further worsened his nerves. 

“I realize you probably don’t want to speak with me ever again. Your ignoring of my letters made that clear enough but I couldn’t give up just yet and I think Eloise would have my head if I didn’t try one last time-”

“I wasn’t ignoring your letters.”

He paused, surprised.

“Until last night I didn’t know they even existed. My father hid them thinking they’d do more harm than good. I stayed up half the night reading them.” Her voice was soft and shaky. He clung to every word.

“Then you know. You know why I'm here. You…” he sighed in exasperation, his throat began to ache from holding back the tears he’d been fighting for so long. His voice was cracking and shaky but he couldn’t stop the words flowing from his heart.

 “You are the blood in my veins and the breath in my lungs; you are my reason for living, for waking up every damn day. I hurt you so badly and I hate myself for it. I will always hate myself for it. I had the most wonderful woman in the world by my side and I threw it away. I am a weak man. I am weak but you make me strong and I am not ashamed to say that I need you. I need you, I need you, I need you and I will never not need you and I will never stop loving you. You owe me nothing. I know that. You have no reason to ever trust me again. I know that. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try-if I don’t get on my knees and beg you for one more chance. I don’t deserve it. you could turn around and leave me forever and I would not blame you. But right here, right now, I need to know- I am begging to know if there is any possible way that you still love me because I cannot spend another moment wondering. So please, my darling, my love, my life… is there any chance that you still love me too?”

They were both crying, thoughts running around their heads at the speed of light. Benedict, during his speech, had taken a few daring steps towards her and now stood at her feet, peering up into her glossy eyes. Slowly, hesitantly, y/n’s warm hand cupped his cheek, and just like that night so long ago, he leaned into its warmth. This was the first he’d ever touched her soft hands and it sent chills down his spine. His own hand reached to hold hers, keeping it from moving. She wiped away his tears with her thumb.

“ I am so ...so sorry.” His words were a mere whisper. 

She was at war with herself. Trusting him again could lead to complete heartbreak once again, but could also lead to some of the happiest days of her life. Maybe a fresh start was what they needed- a second chance. But maybe it was time to set this love free.

“benedict…” his heart raced at the sound of his name on her lips,”

It would seem that I have the grave misfortune of having my heart tethered to yours. No matter how far you throw me, I'll always come back to you. It scares me.”

He frowns, the pit in his stomach growing with his anticipation. She removes her hand from his face, backing away. His heart shatters.

“I will always love you, benedict. But I cannot let you play with my heart again. I cannot risk spending the rest of my life wondering if you still love me. So, I think it best for the both of us, that we end this for good.”

“y/n please… don’t do this.” his voice cracks and she tries to stifle a sob.

“You will find someone else one day, Benedict, and you will love them so much you will forget all about me. All I ask of you is that you allow it to happen. Let me go, and learn from this. That way this pain will not have been in vain.”

“I love you…” he pleads but she shakes her head, unable to look him in the eye. 

“Goodbye.” sobbing, she turns and runs back inside, into the arms of her family who watched it all happen from the window. 

Benedict, with all the strength he could muster, climbs back into his carriage and leaves the Y/L/N estate for the final time. 

The next few months are hard for them. The hardest thing they've ever had to go through. Benedict, especially, has trouble feeling even the slightest bit normal and it takes nearly three months before he can leave his home.

But in the end, y/n was right. Within the next few years, while the pain is still there for both of them, they are finally ready to move on. 

Two years later, y/n meets someone in Italy while traveling with her brother and sister. He reminds her a lot of Benedict, which is probably why it was so easy to fall in love with him. They are married in the fall and happy lives together. Benedict is a bittersweet memory.

Benedict eventually finds himself a wife by the name of Sophie and he loves her with everything he has in him. Not forgetting y/n’s last words to him, he makes sure to never make his old mistakes. 

Though they are not together, they will always love each other. Soulmates meant for another life.

________________________________________________________________

[korpuskat]

Kinktober Day 5 - Sadism -Tomura Shigaraki/Reader

[Ao3 Mirror] Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,721 Summary: Tomura has a lot of fun hurting you. Contains: rape/noncon*; Sadism, biting, painplay, 

=====

"Beg me to stop." He rasps into your ear- and sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder, in and in until something hot slides down your chest.

Everything about you trembles, "Stop..."

Pain explodes over your ass- you yelp, jump beneath him- and his mouth, still wet with spit or blood rubs against the shell of your ear. "Louder." Teeth nip at the thin, sensitive skin there as his lips split into a grin, "I want everyone to hear you."

Your fingers twist into his sheets, "Stop! Please, stop! Don't-"

And his hand meets your ass again, the imprint of his palm makes your skin sting, burn with each impact- and they keep coming. Over and over until you're trying to scramble away, pressing yourself down into the bed to get any respite- but the hand at your waist keeps you near enough, keeps your hips angled back for him to continue his assault. Another hit has his bitten nails scratch you and you're gasping, whining, "Hurts, hurts, Tomura,"

And the hand at your hips twists into your hair, yanks you back- you grab at his wrist on instinct, move back with him as he pulls you up to your knees again, further until your back presses entirely to his front. Still, he does not release his grip, pulls until your head is against his shoulder, neck long and arched and exposed. His other hand gropes at your stinging, welted ass, makes you squirm back against his hard cock. "That's the point."

In an instant you're face-first in the bed again, his weight coming down on the hand on your head while he reaches past you, grabs something. The weight eases, his hand disconnecting from your hair to slide down the long line of your back- and his nails dig in, rake four perfect red lines through your skin. You hiss, arch away from his hand- and with your knees still planted, you're acutely aware of how you're presenting to him. The hand stops at the small of your back, presses there in warning to keep still- and moves again.

He parts the lips of your cunt, draws one finger from the leaking hole there down to the swollen bud of your clit. One touch has your thighs shaking, has your glad your face is buried in the blankets to hide your shame. He shuffles his hands for a moment- and something touches either side of your clit. He rubs there- and it's too firm to be his fingers, slightly cool, smooth with a bit of a hard edge and- you stiffen as the switch flips. You turn your head as far as you can to look back at him- and he meets you with that wide, terrible grin. "Wait! Wait, don't, please!"

Tomura lets out one pleased breath as you tense- and he lets the clothespin close over your swollen clit. The noise that leaves you isn't human, the raw animal instinct of pain makes you freeze, thighs shaking as every muscle in your lower body pulls taut in the simultaneous need to stop moving, to ease the pain and to get it off. Shock and agony leave tears in your eyes as you struggle to hang on.

"How's that? Too much for you?" His laugh is the only thing you can hear past your own broken gasps- and his palms rub in soothing strokes on the smooth expanse of your thighs.

"It hurts," You whimper.

"Good." Pain eclipses all other thought- until something warm is prodding at the slick between your legs. His hand is cool on your overheated, bruising rear while he holds you still. "I'm going to fuck you and you're going to feel that every second of it."

He waits for you to beg- lets the head of his cock nudge the underside of your swollen, clamped clit. The twinge of pain brings your voice back- "No, no, wait!"

His cock splits you open so hard, so fast, you don't even feel it for a long moment; the pain of the backs of your ass cheeks meeting his thin, taut abdomen, the hard lines of his hipbones is the first thing you feel. It chokes down any other words you might've had, smothers them into submission- and then he withdraws. As he pulls out, it tugs against the sensitive lips of your pussy-- and your clit. A wail rises in your throat- and the sound of Tomura's laughter pierces your ears.

He doesn't give you the luxury of building pace, of the slow ascension to decent friction, no- one hand tangles into your hair again, the other at your hip while he fucks you. With your reddened ass that smarts with each impact of his hips and your clit that throbs with each downstroke, you get no rest, no moment to catch your breath.

Tomura leans over you, his thrusts turning shallow and easy. The heat from his body warms your back, but there's no warmth in his words. "You're going to cum for me." The hand that was wrapped in your hair scratches its way down your body- and circles around until his fingertips press into the soft mound just above your pussy. "Just like this."

And he finds the hood of your aching clit, the sensitive flesh beneath throbbing with every beat of your heart and he rubs.

Pain. Pain has your back aching, breath coming in fast, unfulfilling gasps. Every motion has him tugging on that thin skin, makes the clothes pin bob between your legs. And it hurts, it hurts, and his cock is moving in you and it feels good-

it comes out of nowhere. Masked under the pain, raw sensation has driven you up and up until something uncomfortably close to pleasure rears its head. The realization makes your head spin, that you're already so close, your pussy pulsing around him. His hand on your hips pulls you back into his next thrust, drives down- and it's enough.

You clench around him- and your clit's sensitivity shoots through the roof. For one agonizing second all you can feel is that unrelenting, cruel pressure- until he's knocking it off. The removal is nearly as painful, the rush of hot blood back into the crushed nerve endings and it doesn't matter because it's stopped and you're cumming, clit throbbing in time with your pulse, counterpoint to your cunt's merciless grip on his still-moving cock-

and as soon as you can take a breath, you're screaming.

.

.

.

.

.

Dabi's seen all sorts of things in his time lurking around any space that abhors heroes- which is mostly among villains. They're not good people, but this was something else. He didn't have any delusions about Shigarki's nature- he'd tried to kill Dabi in a childish fit when they first met after all- but he hadn't expected that. Nor had anyone else, from everyone else's reactions.

Jin had half a mind to charge in there after please, stop, but Atsuhiro and Shuichi had been enough voice of reason. Maybe if it was anyone else displaying their unsavory tendencies they would've let him, but it was Shigaraki. What could they do, really? Get dusted for trying to get him to keep it in his pants or take his morbid conquests elsewhere? Atsuhiro corrals them into stepping out, to "give our esteemed leader some privacy." and even Dabi with his burnt-out taste buds can taste the derision.

Kurogiri's response is the least surprising; he sits in one corner, quiet and unconcerned with his charge's hobbies. Toga- well. He should've expected it, her obsession with people all beat up and covered in blood. Her cheeks flush pink, eyes going far-off as her lips curl up. He can't blame her- it's exactly what he's feeling. At the broken-off scream, they each excused themselves to separate rooms, probably to do the same thing.

If he were being honest it might've been the hardest Dabi's cum in weeks.

He meets Shigaraki's eyes after, while his leader trudges to the bathroom to clean himself up. They're each unconcerned with the other's presence and Dabi figures, sure, whatever. They're all wanted murderers anyway and Shigaraki knows well enough to clean up his messes- and it's certainly faster and easier than Dabi's Quirk.

What he doesn't expect, however, is the next morning, after everyone's gathered again-- Shuichi's face the only one exposed to look uncomfortable, actually-- is the voice from Shigaraki's room. The door clicks open and- everyone in the room's thoughts stutter to a stop as your shoes scuff the floor, your voice carrying through the thin walls.

"Sorry, guess I passed out." And you laugh; nobody in the main room even breathes. Had he not killed you? Why?

"You needed it." Shigaraki says.

"I really did need that." You say, a double meaning heavy on your tongue. "Thank you."

Kurogiri stands, approaches the little hallway just as you step around the corner. Your eyes go wide at the unfamiliar faces, scan across the room before looking away in shame, one hand rising to rub at the back of your neck. It draws Dabi's eye down- and the pieces begin to fit together in his head.

Everywhere above the collar of your shirt is covered in dark, unhealed bites, a perfect outline of Shigaraki's hand- sans middle finger- is imprinted in your skin in purple bruises. Even on your chin, Dabi sees it now- a pink halfmoon of what can only be teeth marks.

Shigaraki steps into the room behind you- and Dabi's seen him when he wants to kill. No, no, Shigaraki just looks bored. That had to be it- he was right about the boss being a sadist, but you. Dabi's cock is so hard it hurts, aches between his legs as you speak with Kurogiri, tell him where you want to go. A masochist able to keep up with even Shigaraki's sick fantasies? It takes every ounce of control he has not to palm himself right then and there.

"Are you gonna be on Cloud Seven tonight?" Shigaraki asks, unconcerned as Kurogiri's warp expands out.

You tap your chin, "Probably not 'till after six, but I'll see you then." You wave to Shigaraki, who shrugs and turns to go back into the dark hallway- and just like that you're gone.

=====

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[imtryingmyfuckingbe]

Chapter Thirteen

Word Count: 2,975

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Her neck aches and her eyes pulse like they’re trying to jump from the sockets. It stings to open them, and even more when she registers the light above her head. They’re harsh and bright, so much so they cast no shadows and make the floor shine in a surreal manner. She reaches up to rub at the knot in her neck, except she can’t.

“What?” she mumbles, pulling her arms. They rub against the rope. The rope around her wrists tied to the chair. The chair that the rope binds her to.

She closes her eyes and inhales until her lungs are full. Fuck. The chair creaks when she exhales and sags. Bucky is going to be righteously pissed. She pictures him frowning his stupid frown and telling her ‘I told you so’ in his deep timbre— never yelling but always severe.

He’s the least of her worries, right now.

She opens her eyes, slower this time. The chair is metal, like the ones in a storage closet at her high school or the church basement her girl scouts group occupied. More rope ties her ankles to the legs, wrapping over her thighs and securing them to the seat.

She takes stock of her body first. Nothing hurts, save for the pounding in her head and the tightness of the binds. Her fingers and toes wiggle fine. They took her shoes but left her clothes. Her apron. The one with the pocket knife in it. A quick shift allows her to feel the outline pressed into her stomach.

All she needs to do is get her arms free.

She sniffs, looking for anything to help. The sleek gray boxes stacked on pallets around her create a makeshift room, piled high enough that she can’t see over them except for the ceiling. On the other side is light shuffling and low conversation. The faux walls extend back further than she can see; wider, too. Bare steel beams stretch the length of the ceiling, bright white lights interspersed at even intervals.

The floor leaves much to be desired, bare and concrete. Cold through her socks, a stark contrast to the sweat building on her skin.

“Okay,” she whispers into her shoulder, wiping away the perspiration on her cheek and temple.

It’s a cosmic joke: her being held by rope when she’s done it to a few criminals in her time. Full circle, Katherine would say. You get back what you put into the world, her dad would say.

She tests the binds again, pulling her wrists apart. They burn against her skin and— goddammit, she’s seen the movies. Some hero gets caught in her position and they bite their lip through the pain to make themselves bleed because the blood slicks up the rope. Or they’re here again, because the hero always gets tied up for some reason, and they break their wrist to get out.

She draws the line at 127-hours. The Vipers can beat her blue, but she’s keeping her hand.

She cranes her head back, breathing slowly like when Bucky held her hand to his chest and forced her through her panic attack. If she pretends another one doesn’t bubble in her chest, then it doesn’t exist right? She’s good at faking it till she makes it; she’s done it her whole damn life.

In fact, maybe she’s spent her whole life preparing to get into a pickle like this.

Her breaths shake in her lungs and when she exhales. She closes her eyes as tight as they’ll go, bites her lip on the next inhale, and twists her wrists. She keeps twisting and pulling, even when the ache turns into a searing throb. It pulses like her heart, electric and alive.

The hardest part is keeping quiet. The people on the other side of the crates haven’t heard her yet, and she wants to keep it that way. But goddammit, she bits her lip bloody holding in the whines. She gives up on swallowing the shallow gasps because there’s only so much she can keep inside.

A whirring draws her attention, the boxes in the right of room lifting and shifting away to create an opening. Y/N halts, holding her breath. Someone murmurs something before heavy footsteps stalk away. Silence. She exhales, panting. In the opening is a forklift and someone climbing out of its seat, mostly obscured by the wall.

A man short in stature saunters into the room, hands in his pockets and head high. He walks like he thinks he’s tall and wide with a casual confidence interrupted by the ugly twist of a sneer on his face. Y/N almost laughs, looking from his spit-shined shoes and tan slacks to his tucked in plaid shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. She bites back her bewildered smile and a quip about adrenaline seeking trust fund babies dabbling in crime syndicates after they have lunch with their mommies.

She’s hard pressed to do so, the words on the tip of her tongue. She pulls at the rope once more, allowing the pain to center her. At least the startled confusion overtook the panic in her chest. The pounding in her head and wrists persist, but not enough to beg for her full attention.

“Hello,” he says, cocky. His thin lips spread into a grin, bearing his too-straight teeth save for the one canine out of place.

Y/N settles in her chair, rolling her shoulders back. She cocks an eyebrow.

The man clears his throat. “You’ve caused quite the trouble for us, Y/N.” He pauses, as if awaiting a response.

She shakes her head and looks away. If she opens her mouth, nothing good will come out of it, she knows. She stares at the boxes across from the prep-school criminal and pictures gripping the roots of his carefully styled hair tightly in her fingers and bringing his face down to meet her knee. Repeatedly. Until his tears and nosebleed mix so terribly they can’t be distinguished from the other.

He sighs, shoes clicking when he shuffles into her corner vision— is he wearing lifts? His arms are crossed, now, and his scowl full force. “I suppose I’ll have to the heavy lifting?” Another pause. He steps further into her eyeline. She bores harder into the grey pseudo-wall. “You’ll look at me when I speak to you,” he demands.

Has anyone ever told this kid ‘no’? She clenches her jaw.

“Hey!” he yells, stalking forward.

He grips Y/N’s chin in his stubby fingers, smooth like a man who has never had to do ‘the heavy lifting’ in his life, and yanks her head to face him. She inhales through her nose and exhales out her mouth, forcing slow and controlled breaths, and meets his eyes. They’re pale and wide, brightened by reddened veins in the whites. He tilts her head until she’s forced to crane it back, exacerbating the crick in her neck.

“God, you’re ugly,” she says.

He is a man unused to ignorance of his audience, evidenced by his quick shift from cocky to domineering. It goes against Y/N’s nature to not poke the bear, and, Joseph, Mary, and Jesus, he makes an easy target. Maybe if she goads him enough he’ll reveal the Viper’s evil masterplan— and buy her some time. He seems the type to brag, like a cartoon villain in a children’s show who must always be right, and have his captive know so.

This is too easy.

He leans down, towering over her— a feat considering his short height. The stench of his breath hits her like a wall of days old vegetables left out to rot— how are his teeth so nice with that gnarly of a breath? She tries to pull back from it, frowning, but Mister I-don’t-know-what-a-toothbrush-is tightens his grip. He grins like he won something sweet.

“Good God, dude. You want some gum?”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m going to talk and you’re going to listen, like the good little girl I know you can be. This will all resolve itself; you just need to cooperate.”

His casual sexism is as unfortunate as it is unsurprising. She shrugs. “Sure, buddy. Let it out.”

He scoffs in disgust, pushing her face away. The chair creaks with the lurch. It’s like he read a book on how to be the best comic book bad guy— look stupid, sound stupid, have bad breath. He even has the pacing thing down, his hands clasped behind his back while he walks from one end of the enclosure to the other.

How did she get here? She’s too tired for this shit.

“You know, we were right on the precipice of something great. Things started taking shape, loose ends started tying up. And then you,” he points at her, tutting. “You had to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.

“This wasn’t in the plan, and I hate when things go off the rails. You’re just too curious for you own good, Y/N. Or should I call you ‘Goose’?” He turns on his heel to face her, staring intently as if awaiting a response.

What, does he think a nickname is going to crack her? She made her peace with Sylvia’s involvement, at least as much as she could in the short time it took for her to realize it to now, bound to a chair and listening to the world’s most boring criminal. When she doesn’t respond, he returns to pacing and talking.

And talking.

And talking.

She tunes him out, staring at his shoes. Maybe she should pay attention, but what other information does she need, really? She just needs to get out of here, get help, and shut it all down. With a warehouse this size, they likely have evidence connecting names and faces and plans. It’ll be like the S.H.I.E.L.D. dump all over— except without implicating elected officials. She hopes.

She’s long weary of the government and all the alphabet agencies, and even more distrusting of any big corporation, but it would suck to be proven right again. Despite her quick draw pessimism, she does hope for the best. For the people who say they want to do good actually wanting it and not using it as a guise. For the sick and the twisted to be so sick and twisted they can’t hide it well enough to infiltrate all levels of an agency again.

It’d make her life a hell of a lot easier, that’s for sure.

It’s a small hope, lingering in the bottom of her stomach under the piles and piles of skepticism born from experience in the real world, but it’s there. If Bernie exists, then people like Bernie exist, too, and that means not everyone is bad.

With his attention on his steps and not her, Y/N works at her wrists slowly. She pulls her left hand as far away from the right as it’ll go, using it as a point of tension to rotate her right. How long does it take for rope burn to draw blood? How far does she have to carve into her wrists?

It stings worse than when she first started, her skin cooled from the reprieve. She bites the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to watch the pattern of his polished shoes trek back and forth.

His voice gets louder, bolstered by her silence and whatever gratification he gets from monologuing to an unwilling participant. He waves his hands as he explains the grand finale. “And when the Vipers finish the final model, it’ll be bigger than the Battle of New York. Loki will look small compared to what we have planned, you’ll see. We won’t need a special scepter or helicarriers with a hit on everyone in the world who poses a threat to us.

“Order will be restored under Hydra’s hand. You won’t even have half the mind to think for yourself.” He turns to face her, hands on his hips and a breathless grin. She stops moving. “Because, you know what they say, cut off one head—”

“—Are you wearing lifts?” she interrupts. So he’s Hydra and not a Viper. When did Hydra hire prep school kids? Then again the fall in D.C. reduced them to dregs. He’s probably a legacy. She snorts.

“What?” he asks on an exhale. He shakes his head, hands fisting at his sides. His voice is low in warning when he says, “You think you’re funny, but you won’t be laughing when we poison the well and you’re under our control. It isn’t just us, you know. You think New York is the only place on Earth with the reach of the underground?”

He stalks forward, bracing his hands on the back of the chair by Y/N’s shoulders and leaning in. “Think bigger. Moscow. Berlin. Osaka. Sao Paulo. Lagos. Fucking Karachi. More places than your tiny little brain can comprehend. You step foot in one of our cities and we know. Nothing goes on without our permission, without our direction.

“New York is easy game because it’s been brought to its knees so many times before. You’re still recovering from the Battle. D.C. is still rebuilding. Malibu, even, from when your buddy Stark ordered a hit on his own home. Small beginnings lead to big endings, don’t you know?” He grins his insufferable grin.

Y/N cocks her head to the side. “And, let me guess, you’re at the front of it all? The big man?” She looks from his feet to his head, elongating the work ‘big’.

The grin widens, and he shakes his head as if amused. “That’s right, sweetheart. You don’t even know who you’re talking to.”

“Then tell me. Who am I talking to? I mean, I don’t even know your name.”

He scoffs, pushing off the chair and stepping back, arms once again crossed. He drums his fingers on his bicep as if in thought. “I’m only telling you these things because you won’t remember, not after we’re through. Hell, you might not even be alive.”

“So what’s the problem with telling me your name? I mean, you’ve got me where you want me. You have the rest of my life planned out, it seems. I wanna know who I’m answering to.”

“You can’t goad me into a response. I’m smarter than you.”

“I’m sure you are, but if you don’t give me a name I’ll just assign you one. I have to have something else to call you in my head besides ‘Trust Fund Baby’.” He scowls, face scrunching together. She shrugs. “Brad? Chad? Carter? Jake? Aiden? No, you don’t look like an ‘Aiden’.” She pretends to survey him, lips pursed. In mock surprise, she gasps. “I got it! Brian, but it’s spelt weird, I bet. With a ‘y’, or some extra letters, right? I’m right, aren’t I?”

The newly dubbed Brian rolls his eyes, fingers digging divots into his arms.

“I knew it.”

Not-Brian rushes forward, gripping her shoulders and pushing the chair onto its back legs. The rope shifts on her ankles and thighs from the change, and the bindings around her wrists rub against the raw skin. She bites back a groan. He leans in again— because that’s the only intimidation tactic he seems to know: leaning in and then backing away and then leaning and over and over. Her skin burns where he touches, but she keeps it from her face.

“You will treat me with respect. Your stupid jokes and foolhardy demeanor mean nothing in the face of what I can do to you. What I will do to you. Do you understand me?”

His words settle in the silence, disrupted only by the quiet shuffling of others hidden behind the walls. She stares at where his eyebrows meet in a furrow, feigning concentration. Not-Brian’s breaths come in heaves, sour and strong. Y/N squints at his forehead. “I bet your name is Christian. That— now that’d be fucking ironic.”

He growls, dropping the chair so it lands with a slam and drawing his hand back. She has little time to brace herself for the slap. It stings across her cheeks and turns her head, the crack echoing around the enclosure. Spots dance in her vision, sparkling and disorienting.

She laughs, loud and inappropriate for the tension, but she can’t help it. Rage bubbles beneath her skin, alongside her frustration and fear; flowing with everything that happened in the last three days. Bernie, Bucky, Sylvia. It blends together until it’s a ball of festering wrath with nowhere to go except out of her mouth in barking, sharp laughter.

She turns her head slowly, careful of the pounding, to face not-Brian. She sniffs. “When I get out of here— when, not if— I am gonna have so much fun fucking you up.” She says it low and slow, like how she was raised.

“You want respect and attention? You wanna command a room? You don’t yell. Ever,” her old man told her; said it’s when you lose control of your tone that lose control of the situation.

He huffs a laugh, too, eyes alight and shoulders shaking. She smiles, rolling her neck. She’ll start with a knee to the face, she decides, and then she’ll pull out that canine like they pulled out Bernie’s teeth. From there, the possibilities are endless, but it’s enough of a start to give her a sense of purpose, to allow her to push through the pain of twisting her wrists.

Not-Brian sighs out one final sputtering of chuckles. “I’ll beat that spunk right out of you, you’ll see.” He lets that settle for a second before departing, the forklift whirring as it slides the pallet of boxes back into place.

[mymelodyheart]

Miles Between Us Chapter 5 ~The Tethered Ties~

Picture Source

WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT SEXUAL & LANGUAGE CONTENT

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE PROCEEDING

For this chapter, you might need to refresh your memory on the history of Harry's connection to the Fraser family and Murtagh, if so you can reread the chapter Who the Hell is Harry? from Series 1 (AIWFCIY). On this Tumblr link or on this AO3 link.

Previously in Reunited ...

"Are you working today?" 

He grinned. "No. I took a day off." And he'd arranged with Willie he wouldn't be starting work until ten tomorrow morning.

"Well, ..."

"Weel what?"

"I think I'd like to go to bed."

To bed?  He searched her face looking for any evidence indicating she was unwell or fatigued. After all, she'd been working a lot these past few days. But he found none. Instead, her eyes betrayed what she had in mind. Still, he could be mistaken and wanted to be sure. "To bed or to sleep?" he asked slowly and cautiously.

She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his, making his stomach flipped. "What do you think?" she whispered against his mouth.

There was an awareness on Claire's face that revealed she felt the wild rapping against his rib cage. Both of their breathing changed, and in an instant, the closeness of their bodies was no longer means to keep anxiety at bay.

His heart rate suddenly became an equivalent of a man running from a bull in Pamplona. "Ach, Sassenach, couldnae ye wait until we were nearer to home to tell me that?" 

If you wish to read this on AO3, here is the link.

If you wish to read this from the beginning:

AO3 link

Tumblr link

 Claire watched Jamie in her periphery as he slowed the car and rolled into the cottage's driveway. It started to rain heavily, a stark contrast to the sunnier weather that had greeted her in Inverness. But she was too preoccupied focusing on him to notice anything else. 

"It's nice to be back," she whispered, smothering a smile as she unfastened her seatbelt.

He grunted something incoherent. Claire could tell he was trying his hardest to keep himself together by the way his jaw ticked. Given she was operating on adrenaline ever since that kiss upon her arrival, she realised she shouldn't have teased him with that naughty innuendo before they'd left the airport. 

"I think I'd like to go to bed," she'd said. Jamie's expression had changed when he read the meaning in her eyes. She'd thought his reaction was adorable, but now, with her skin feeling too tight for her body, she understood his predicament. With two and a half weeks of sexual frustration swirling in the air between them, she suddenly felt sympathetic. She'd even gone as far as doing as she was told after he'd ordered her not to speak another word on their drive back to Broch Mordha, even when he drove above the speed limit. But the silence between them only served to intensify the atmosphere more. 

"We'll get yer bags later ..." He turned off the ignition and briefly glanced at her. "...when it stops raining."

Claire made a move to get out but was surprised at how quick Jamie clambered out of the car and skirted to her side. He opened the door, their eyes meeting when he offered his hand. Feeling the intensity of his regard, she allowed him to help her out and pull her towards the house, squealing when she was blasted by an icy torrent.

Once inside, he booted the cottage door shut behind him, shrugging his jacket off and shaking the rain from his hair, propelling driblets everywhere and making her laugh as she did the same. But her laughter was soon cut off by the low sound he made in his throat, his slow, deliberate advance, the muscular chest he exposed when he peeled off his sodden top. The wind pelted rain on the windows, thunder reverberating, lightning flashing and illuminating the semi-dark living room in irregular intervals.

She shivered, but she knew it wasn't from the cold. "Where's Rollo and Adso?" she asked, her bottom hitting the back of the sofa as she walked back.

He unbuckled his belt. "At Willie's. I wasnae sure if we were gonnae be out the whole day or no'."

When he dragged his zipper down, she hissed on a gasp, watching his shoes come off and jeans sloughing onto the floor in record time. She swallowed audibly. "Oh, so no distractions then," she squeaked. He didn't reply. Instead, he reached out to tug her top off. When his eyes landed on her white lacy bra, he swore harshly under his breath. "Perhaps some tea first, to warm us up?" she suggested, feeling shy all of a sudden, her arms coming up to cover herself. It was clear their time apart, though not really that long, made her a tad bit bashful.

"Tea?" he said in a low voice, his hands prying hers. "Dinnae fash, Sassenach ..." He unclasped her bra and let it drop to the floor. "I'll keep ye warm."

He undid her jeans and slid his hands inside to cup her buttocks, pulling her in and dipping his head forward to lock their mouths together, obliterating all thoughts and reason with each expert sensual slide of his tongue. He groaned into her mouth, and she could barely remain upright from the onslaught of feeling and need, an intoxicating, heart-stopping desire that made every part of her body scream. 

When they broke apart, she shakily toed off her shoes as he impatiently tugged at her waistband, sliding down her panties along to expose her most intimate part, glad she'd made time for a bit of body pampering. It was a decision she'd made on a whim, thanks to Annalise's cajoling to accompany her to the beauty salon. In all her life, she'd never once considered doing it since she'd always been the type to keep the 70s vibe alive in her pants. The loose string of curses he uttered and the shudder that passed through his body told her the pain, and the effort had not been in vain. "Ah, Christ, Sassenach, nae wonder ye're cold, ye're all bare down there." 

She didn't know whether to die of embarrassment, laugh, or hit him on the head for that remark. But those feelings were only fleeting when he shoved down his boxer briefs and fisted his heavy erection, his head dropping down to her neck to rain kisses on a sensitive spot he knew so well. "I don't want a condom between us, Sassenach," he said hoarsely. "I want ye to know I'm clean, and I'm serious about us. But if ye're not on a pill, I'll put one on for ye."

Her head lolled to the side, his hot breath on her skin making her breathless and unable to think straight. "It's alright. I'm on a pill. I want to feel all of ye. There's only been you ...you know that."

"Sweet, Jesus." With one swift motion, he lifted her, her legs automatically encircling around his waist. He crushed her against the wall, the force of it causing a hanging art to drop to the floor. Both of them vaguely noticed, only focused on getting as close to one another as possible. She palmed the wall behind her with one hand for balance as he lifted her higher to take her nipple into his mouth, tongue flicking and teasing at the sensitive bud, making her moan. She threw her head back and arched, her fingers tangling into his hair.

"C-can't wait. Please. Now. Jamie!" she commanded, clawing his back.

He hauled her from the wall and strode over to the sofa, almost toppling over Rollo's rope toy. Then he shoved the box seat with his knee, and a pile of books with his game consoles spilt onto the rug. 

His laughter blew out on a puff of warm breath, stirring strands of curls that rested on her cheek. "Sorry, Sassenach," he mumbled, carefully stepping over the scattered heaps. 

"Don't care ...just want you."

He dropped onto the sofa and eased her on his lap to straddle him. Every inch of her skin prickled and thrummed as his fingers traced the curves of her breasts and hips.

"Jesus, I've missed this ...us like this," he murmured into her ears. "Look at ye, so bloody beautiful, and ye're mine."

His words rang in her ears. She had to force herself to stop fidgeting as he skated his hands along her thighs to her backside, drawing her nearer to his hardness. She could feel the heat of his erection against the softness of her belly and his fingertips igniting her skin anywhere he touched. Her reserve vanished when he gently pulled her in for another deep kiss, their simultaneous moan rending the atmosphere and every neuron in her brain shorting out. 

She broke their kiss, gasping for air, and he stared at her with barely constrained desperation, lifting her by the waist as she held on to his shoulders. Guided by his strong hands, she slowly lowered herself onto his thick length, inch by inch, their mouths dropping open and exchanging breaths. When their bodies locked together like two halves of a whole, they stared at each other in wonderment, sharing a mutual appreciation of the fact that their lust-filled late-night phone conversations paled in comparison to the reality of blinding pleasure.

Unable to take her eyes away from his face - the face of a man who bore so much weight on his shoulders, she tightened her muscles around him, extracting a broken groan to pass his lips. She wanted to be the one who eased his burden, take away all his guilt and anxiety and rid him of his nightmares. He'd been through a lot and, while she had a vague idea of the extent of it, a man who's about honour and duty was good to the core. Looking at his tortured expression, an intense ache bloomed to life again.

"I love you, James Fraser," she whispered, digging her fingernails on his shoulders and working her hips in rhythm to his upward drive.

Jamie made a hoarse sound and pulled her down to brush his lips against hers. "I love ye too, Sassenach. Not being with ye, even for a day …it hurts so much." Lightning slashed through the room, and she saw his handsome face shadowed, his hair dishevelled from her desperate fingers. "Christ, a man like me should have to barter his soul to the devil to have someone like ye. But ye love me. Yer love is everything, and ye're saving this dark soul. What have I done to deserve ye?" he rasped on a harsh exhale.

Claire wanted to tell him he didn't have to change anything to deserve her. She loved everything about him, even that dark side he harboured. Together they could work things out. She hoped she communicated that with her eyes before he lowered his face into the crook of her neck and started bucking into her in rough strokes, his broken versions of her name on his lips.

The rain continued to drum against the windows, turning Jamie's cottage into their own private world where they were the only two people who existed. "Jamie," she whimpered, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck. He squeezed her bottom before lightly smacking it, grunting deep in his throat as she rocked against him at a faster pace. "Oh, God, I'm going to come. It feels so good."

Jamie reared with sharper and faster thrusts, answering every grind of her hips, and she sobbed, bracing herself on his shoulders. "Christ, Sassenach. Ah, fuck!" He lowered his head to suck her nipples, making her seized up around him.

Her pleasure exploded, vivid and bright, and when her thigh muscles slackened, Jamie surged up into her heat for the final time and roared, their peak vibrating between them with such force, her lungs were robbed of air, and her vision dimmed. There was nothing but their love spilling from their hearts. They clung to each other for a long while as the sound of rain switched from loud drumming to a pitter-patter, their mouths engaging in a slow, mating dance, their hearts beating closely together as if it sought to merge into one.

As their hearts calmed and their breathing slowed down, Jamie wrapped his arms around her to nestle his head in her neck. The sound of rain against the roof echoed through the cottage, and they remained motionless for a long time. When they did move, it's only because Jamie was aroused again, and their second time around ended up leaving trails of shambles and mess. A floor lamp and a vase were knocked over, and Rollo's basket bed accidentally kicked to the other side of the room. By the time they made it into his bedroom, a curtain had been yanked down, and apples rolled off the bowl on the dining table, leaving the living room in a state of disarray.

After another rigorous bout of lovemaking, they both collapsed into each other's arms. As they regained their breaths, Jamie released a satisfied sigh before closing his eyes with a smile. There was enough time for a talk later. But right now, all she wanted was to relish being cocooned in the warmth and safety of his arms. 

"Jamie?" she murmured as his breathing evened out. 

"Aye?" He was barely conscious, and she couldn't help but grin as she listened to the soothing beat of his heart beneath her ear. 

"You're definitely a keeper."

She watched as the sweetest smile formed on his tired but handsome face until sleep finally claimed him.

..........

Jamie had awoken earlier with Claire snuggled into him, their skin a wee bit sticky and damp from their body heat and yesterday's marathon sex. Coming out of a deep slumber had more to do with his thickening arousal than the internal body clock and the birds' chirping outside. It had made him wonder if his desire for Claire would ever wane, but it was quite apparent, after last night, he was still left with wanting more. But he'd let her sleep, knowing they both had jobs to attend to.

After they had awoken sometime during the night, they'd raided the fridge for something to eat and then went straight back to bed to talk about their work and their plans for today. Their energetic bed activity had left them depleted, but the intimacy of holding each other while conversing in the dark had restored his soul, resulting in a deep, restful sleep.

Although he'd told Willie he would come late to work, Jamie felt so well-rested, he'd decided to start early and let Claire do her own thing. It was a good idea, too, because after the freak storm yesterday, there were quite a few trees that had been damaged and needed to be cut down or remove for safety purposes. And Claire had many things to sort out, like getting in touch with some bloke for her boss' publishing company. 

He was working behind the village church, the area bordered with hawthorn, rowan and alder trees. He and Willie had already safely removed one of the damaged trees threatening to collapse on the church's roof and was just about to start uprooting a rotted tree stump when his godfather, Murtagh, came out of nowhere. It wasn't unusual seeing him there. It was part of his godfather's duty, as he called it, to pop up once in a while to check up on any of the Frasers.

"Ach, there ye are," Murtagh greeted with a half-smile. "Willie told me I'd find ye here." He took out a thermos flask from his rucksack and began to unscrew the top. "I thought I'd stop by and see what ye're up to. Heard the Beauchamp lass is back."

He wiped the sweat off his brows. "Aye, Claire's back. Picked her up yesterday."

Murtagh poured some tea into the thermos' cup and handed it to him. "Sounds like it's serious between the two of ye." He winked as Jamie gratefully took the cup and sipped the hot brew. "If she's anything like her mother, I'd be careful not to let her slip away. I made that mistake once, lad ...dinnae let that happen to ye too."

He frowned as he recalled seeing Harry at Inverness airport yesterday. "About that ...ye mentioned once over dinner that ye knew Claire's father, Harry ...I mean, Henry."

"Aye ...Henry, that prick, bless his soul," Murtagh muttered before making a sign of the cross. "I thought he was my mate. Did ye ken that pillock stole my burd from right under my nose?"

"I remember ye saying that. But tell me more about Henry."

"Ye were probably too young to remember." Murtagh shifted on his feet and shoved his hands into his jeans' pockets. "Before he met and married Jules ... Claire's mother, that is, we were the best of mates and hanged out a lot in the pub whenever he was here. Sometimes we'd take ye and Willie along when we went fishing or hiking. While I concentrated on teaching Willie how to hook a worm, Henry would be showing ye how to throw a pebble on the surface of the water. Or how to start a fire with sticks. Stuff like that. I could see from early on he was fond of ye."

Jamie searched his memory bank for that particular image, but he found none. "I have vague memories about fishing ..aye, but ye've taken Willie and me out with a lot of yer mates, especially summer when school was out." He wiped his dirt streak hands down the thighs of his jeans. "But I cannae seem to recall Henry."

"Hmmm ...nae wonder." Murtagh dragged a booted foot back and forth on the dirt. "It wasnae a pleasant memory the last time ye saw him." He swallowed hard as he looked into the distance. "After Henry married Jules, I didnae hear from them again. And it was a good thing too, because I think I would have given him a right good pounding after what he did. I dinnae think they would ever return, and I was surprised because they both loved this place and had made quite a few friends here ...even before they met."

Feeling the cold chill on his neck, Jamie turned up his sleeveless jacket's collar and zipped up his front. "So what happened the last time I saw him?"

Murtagh puffed out a breath. "The last time ye saw Henry, he was in a car accident ...with his family."

"What?" he choked.

Murtagh turned tired-looking eyes on him, and there was a deep sadness in them that startled him. "It was the day they were coming back to Broch Mordha for the first time in years. I heard talks around the village that they've rented a wee cottage from Mrs Baird. And also heard words about a wean. I didnae want to stick around to find out. I thought I'd take a wee trip to Skye and stay there until Henry and his family were gone. I was just packing when ye came barging into my hoose tellin me that a car had smashed to a tree. I came running oot like a gudgeon with ye right behind me. Ye must have been nine or ten. It wasnae far from where I lived then. By the time I got there, Henry was still alive, and Jules was unconscious. He ordered me to get the bairn first and then Jules. My first thoughts were to save Jules, but the wee child was screaming, and Henry was begging me to save her. Between the two of us, we managed to get wee Claire oot, and I ordered ye to take her as far as possible from the site. And that ye did. But I couldnae save Harry and Jules because the car caught fire and Henry lost consciousness. When I smelt gasoline, I had to run, and that's when the car exploded."

"Oh dear Lord." Jamie fell a step back as faint memories flying about like bits of a jigsaw puzzle flooded his brain, his mind struggling to fit the pieces together. Every time he managed to recall something, he couldn't hold on to it long enough to construct that day's event. 

He had so many questions and wanted to ask Murtagh more but drew up short when the crew of workmen, working for him and Willie rounded the church. Four sets of eyes landed on them, greeting them with a nod and grunt. Thinking this was not the place to discuss such things, Jamie cleared his throat and shook his head, his way of telling Murtagh they'll discuss this another time.

Murtagh grabbed his shoulder as he turned to pick up his equipment. "Look, lad," Murtagh began in a low voice. "Ye probably cannae remember because ye were so traumatised that day that ye're ma made ye attend some counselling. It took a year for ye to get over it. For as long as I've known ye, ye have this tendency to bury pain and grief. Just do me a favour, alright. Leave the past in the past. Talk to Claire about it by all means, but for fuck sake, dinnae tell yer ma I told ye. She'd be on my case like a rash. She thinks ye got enough on yer plate ever since ye came back from the Middle East without me dumping this on ye. Are we clear?"

Jamie nodded and watched his godfather turn around and leave. Claire's parents' accident wasn't news to him, but the fact that he had apparently been a witness, it was just too mind-boggling beyond words. It's hard enough to reconcile that there's a possibility he'd been communicating with a ghost for the past year and a half, and now, with Murtagh's latest revelation, he felt like he's going to implode with bafflement.

Mentally shaking himself, he banished any further thoughts about Harry and concentrated on doing as much job as possible to be with Claire sooner. Operating heavy machinery while his mind was elsewhere was dangerous. So he poured his concentration onto work.

Later that day, when he returned to the cottage, Jamie found Claire sat at the dining table with her laptop on, her dark curls tied loosely in a bun. There was a fire going already in the hearth and his home smelled of cooking. She sat cross-legged on the chair, and he realised she was talking to someone via video conference. Not wanting to disturb her, he quietly shut the door. But Claire had already seen him and beckoned him over with a motion of her hand.

She got up from the chair and stood on tiptoes to give him a kiss. "You're just in time," Claire smiled. "I'd like you to meet someone."

He returned the kiss and pulled her in close, inhaling her sweet clean smell. "I hope it's not yer boss."

She tugged his hand and laughed. "No, don't be silly."

He leaned down to look at her laptop, but there was no one there. Instead, a little rectangle showed him in the corner of the screen, making him winced when he saw his own image. He looked like he'd been hauled through a thicket in the rain and his hair laid around his face in thick, damp clumps. It was definitely not the first impression he would have chosen for meeting anyone associated with Claire. 

"Umm, Sassenach, naebody's there," he said, looking at her.

"Just hang fire," she replied, stealing another kiss from him.

He smiled. And when he finally glanced back down at the laptop, he nearly choked. Right there on the screen, peering up at him, was a cantankerous-looking, crocodile Dundee version of Harry. Same eyes, the same face, and though a handsome fellow, this man's skin looked weather-beaten, and he had a scary scowl on his face.

"Jamie," Claire giggled. "I'd like you to meet my uncle ...Quentin Lambert Beauchamp, also known as uncle Lamb. Uncle Lamb, this is Jamie, James Fraser ...my boyfriend. I'm staying with him at his place for at least a week."

"Is that right?" the man on the screen harumphed with a growl as he stuck a thick cigar between his teeth. "Not what I was expecting."

Ah, holy fuck! Though uncle Lamb looked like Harry, Jamie knew this man was nothing like Harry. Harry was ...or had been a polite, refined and jolly ol' chap with a very posh accent. This man was far from the polished look Harry presented. This man looked like he'd seen the world and confronted danger and probably wrestled crocodiles as a hobby. Convincing uncle Lamb that he's good enough for Claire was not going to be a walk in a park. Jamie knew he had a long evening ahead as he gingerly sat down in front of Claire's laptop and braced himself.

Jamie cleared his throat and sat up straight. "Good evening, sir ..."

    Dear Readers,

This took a bit of time to write, usually the case with me when I'm writing a sex scene. But here it is, and I hope you've enjoyed this latest instalment. As always, I'm grateful for your feedback, so thank you very much for taking the time to comment. I may not always comment back, but you can rest assured I read your observations and answer any questions you may have, including constructive criticism. Until the next chapter, take care of yourselves, stay safe and keep the positive and love vibes going. Kudos to you all, my friends. 😀❤️

[lilypixels]

...............all of them.....?

It took me an hr to do this....🥲💀

1. coffee mugs, teacups, wine glasses, water bottles, or soda cans?

Teacupsss

2. chocolate bars or lollipops?

Lollipops

3. bubblegum or cotton candy?

Uhhh cotton candy

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

Probably quiet and smart lol I did my school work and was friendly with everyone so I was a favorite and heard all the nice things 🙈

5. do you prefer to drink soda from soda cans, soda bottles, plastic cups or glass cups?

I kinda like bottles more but like the glass ones with the caps that could slice your fingers-

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I’m for all but sports lol

7. earbuds or headphones?

Earbuds

8. movies or tv shows?

Shows cause I’m the type to watch an hr long episode vs hr long movie idk why but I’m rarely in mood for them

12. name of your favorite playlist?

Drop the beat (ie songs that are upbeat and I like most)

13. lanyard or key ring?

Hmm...I guess lanyard?

14. favorite non-chocolate candy?

Skittles or twizzlers

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

I had lots I had to read in school but only ever finished a handful lol my favorite I think was maybe Macbeth? I would say Odyssey but I don’t think we read the full thing cause I remember being disappointed about something like that...

16. most comfortable position to sit in?

Sitting with my legs bent up in seat with me in some way

17. most frequently worn pair of shoes?

Converse and some nice but cheap sneakers from Walmart

18. ideal weather?

Not too hot, not too cold, mild like before/after a rain (most the time), idc if it’s raining or sunny but as long as temp is comfortable I’m fine

19. sleeping position?

On my side most often

20. preferred place to write (i.e., in a note book, on your laptop, sketchpad, post-it notes, etc.)?

Phone and notebook

21. obsession from childhood?

Oh gosh uhhh I guess my like of dolls maybe? Or obsession with anything ✨unexplained✨ like ghosts, aliens, cryptids, etc

22. role model?

Kim Namjoon lol just kidding (sorta)

23. strange habits?

Ok I know I have some and my friends would be more than happy to point them all out but hm let me think...idk if these count as habits but I’ll never place a mirror facing a bed (this is more superstitious I guess than habit,,,) I can’t stand my food touching, if I have a tray like in cafeteria I have a certain spot for everything and uh my mind just went blank-

24. favorite crystal?

Moonstone, lapis lazuli, and I feel obligated to say garnet cause it’s my birthstone

25. first song you remember hearing?

Circle of Life maybe who knows xD

26. favorite activity to do in warm weather?

Walk or clean,,I’m more active and about with warm/nice weather

27. favorite activity to do in cold weather?

...stay inside where it’s warm

28. five songs to describe you?

Not this again😭 uhhh idk you tell me ajdbd

29. best way to bond with you?

Indulge me when I go off about things I like or learn 😔✊ I know I’ll talk your ear off and I’m sorry but know I don’t often talk about these things with people so once I start it’s hard to stop,,and it makes me really happy when people do listen to me about these things and send me related items every so often or even look into it themselves to learn more 🥺

30. places that you find sacred?

For some reason this feels like a trick question...um cemeteries and anything with ages of history I guess

31. what outfit do you wear to kick ass and take names?

Oof do I really have a true outfit?? I have shoes for this which are just black platform sneakers I call stomping shoes

32. top five favorite vines?

I never,,,watched these,,,

33. most used phrase in your phone?

“Yes”...?

34. advertisements you have stuck in your head?

State Farm and McDonald’s, always

35. average time you fall asleep?

10-11...usually...

36. what is the first meme you remember ever seeing?

Uhhh that one with the ginger dude (I think it was someone’s yearbook photo??) I don’t remember much else about the meme but it was on ifunny, or whatever the app was, a lot

37. suitcase or duffel bag?

Suitcase

38. lemonade or tea?

Easy, tea

39. lemon cake or lemon meringue pie?

...neither

40. weirdest thing to ever happen at your school?

Dude these questions really testing my brain power here- for senior prank someone put cereal in some bathroom sinks I think

41. last person you texted?

My mom

42. jacket pockets or pants pockets?

I’m gonna say jacket since I wear those often

43. hoodie, leather jacket, cardigan, jean jacket or bomber jacket?

Hoodie or cardigan

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy

46. most comfortable outfit to sleep in?

Usually whatever shirt I’m wearing that day and some pj/lounge pants 🤷

47. favorite type of cheese?

Mozzarella

48. if you were a fruit, what kind would you be?

I-what kind of question is this? How does one even answer this?

49. what saying or quote do you live by?

What comes around goes around lol (yes I’m a heavy believer of karma)

50. what made you laugh the hardest you ever have?

Lol who knows, probably something dumb me and my siblings were doing or something we watched cause there’s been plenty times of that xD

51. current stresses?

Homework vs free time e-e

52. favorite font?

I like the gothic looking ones but it’s usually not practical to use so idk

53. what is the current state of your hands?

My hands...? They’re fine ??

54. what did you learn from your first job?

How to care for babies and little kids, how to put on a diaper lol

56. favorite tradition?

I can’t remember a particular one off hand but I’m trying to start few new ones like decorating cookies for Halloween uwu

57. the three biggest struggles you’ve overcome?

Uhhhhh like personally or...? Cause we’ve overcome homelessness before, um finishing assignments idk😭 oh maybe bullying?? That’s all I can think of since I still struggle with a lot,,

58. four talents you’re proud of having?

Alright let’s do thisss: creativity (mostly in writing sense), I can bake/cook, I have amazing organization skills and many work places have used that lol (bonus is I don’t mind, I actually really enjoy it, very peaceful), surprisingly good balance all things considered, I’m a quick learner

59. if you were a video game character, what would your catchphrase be?

“I’m too tired for this.”

60. if you were a character in an anime, what kind of anime would you want it to be?

Good question good question🤔 I don’t think I’d last in any of them/have a terrible side character role so 💀

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

“Life’s too short to hold grudges.”

62. seven characters you relate to?

Dude this is gonna get embarrassing I can feel it🤠

Itaru, Iori, Sogo, Belle, Simeon (obey me), Nozaki (he’s clueless about romance irl and doesn’t know when someone has a crush on him yet can write romance well enough and yeah it’s me lol), and uhh Swindler/Ordinary Person in Akudama Drive (still can’t believe no one really has names in that anime but the way she gets wrapped in everything felt like something that’d happen to me lol)

63. five songs that would play in your club?

Like nightclub...? I’m skipping this ajdbd

64. favorite website from your childhood?

Probably the Barbie site, me and my sister played all the dress up games almost daily istg

65. any permanent scars?

Appendectomy scars and then looks like I have one on a toe but it’s possible it still might heal...

66. favorite flower(s)?

Nightshade, foxglove, baby’s breath, bellflowers, roses

67. good luck charms?

I don’t think I have any...

68. worst flavor of any food or drink you’ve ever tried?

Lemon

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

Let me think...I read something once about flowers having ears(?) but like not ear ears just something about having a part that picks up sound waves

70. left or right handed?

Right

71. least favorite pattern?

Lolll animal print I think

72. worst subject?

Physics...the worst science

74. at what pain level out of ten (1 through 10) do you have to be at before you take an advil or ibuprofen?

6...?

75. when did you lose your first tooth?

I don’t remember, it probably happened when i was 6. I do remember losing one of my front teeth during my birthday one year and I was happy since the tooth had been loose for some time xD

76. what’s your favorite potato food (i.e. tater tots, baked potatoes, fries, chips, etc.)?

Chips I guess or just like fried in skillet

77. best plant to grow on a windowsill?

A succulent probably

78. coffee from a gas station or sushi from a grocery store?

Neither ew

79. which looks better, your school id photo or your driver’s license photo?

They are both about equally terrible

80. earth tones or jewel tones?

Earth

81. fireflies or lightning bugs?

Fireflies

82. pc or console?

I am on pc side now

83. writing or drawing?

Writing

84. podcasts or talk radio?

Podcasts I guess

84. barbie or polly pocket?

Barbie

85. fairy tales or mythology?

Mythology, it’s too fun and chaotic lol

86. cookies or cupcakes?

Hm...cupcakes

87. your greatest fear?

Uh,,,I don’t have many fears but I guess one would be falling from a great height? So I would get scared of crossing a bridge and it collapsing or riding a plane and it falling easily

88. your greatest wish?

World peace🥲

89. who would you put before everyone else?

My mom maybe...?

90. luckiest mistake?

I honestly don’t remember but something I do remember is I out semicolon instead of period and turned out to be correct grammar lol

91. boxes or bags?

Boxes

92. lamps, overhead lights, sunlight or fairy lights?

Sunlight or fairy lights, I don’t require much either way and prefer more natural lighting

93. nicknames?

Lassie, twinkle toes, Ash, poody butt (by 3 yr old I sometimes watch and play with lol he means it affectionately; I call him monkey butt and it’s catching on slowly instead)

94. favorite season?

Starting to be fall just a little more but I like transition times most

95. favorite app on your phone?

Let’s go with twitter

96. desktop background?

It is a moriarty and gang pic

97. how many phone numbers do you have memorized?

2: mine and my moms

98. favorite historical era?

Ooo tough one but I’ll say renaissance as some of the coolest things came from that time