#they were teasing this one for literally almost two full decades

[waugh-bao]

(NYT, Sept. 14th 2023)

[pin-k-ink]

ROUTINE ⋆✦⋆ miya osamu

synopsis ➸ you thought things would be the same after six years away from Osamu, but surprise—turns out, distance really does make the heart grow fonder

tags ➸ kinda dub-con, best friends to lovers, sexual tension, making out, cunnilingus, blowjob, face-fucking, come-eating, dom!samu, unprotected sex, fingering, nipple play, dirty talk, praise kink, dry humping, breeding kink,

wc ➸ 6.5k

"Damn, I was wondering when you'd finally roll up," you teased as Osamu's car pulled up to the curb outside arrivals. "I was about to have them page you over the intercom like a lost child or something."

He shot you a flat look as you chuckled, sliding into the passenger seat with a dramatic flourish. "Yeah, well, maybe I would've been here sooner if a certain someone hadn't decided to bring half her apartment along for the trip."

You gasped in mock outrage, playfully swatting his arm as Osamu pulled away from the curb. "My luggage is perfectly reasonable, Mr. Smart Mouth! Not all of us can be professional minimalists, you know."

Osamu snorted at that, lips twitching upwards ever so slightly in that subtle way you'd always adored. "Pretty sure there's minimalist and then there's whatever hoarding problem you've got going on back there."

You stuck your tongue out at him childishly before both of you dissolved into familiar laughter - any last remaining tension from the years apart melting away in an instant. This was simply how it always was between you and your oldest friend, trading playful jabs and insults like two unruly siblings. The ease of simply being yourselves around each other again filled you with profound comfort and nostalgia.

"God, I missed this so freakin' much," you admitted once the laughter subsided, reaching over to briefly squeeze his bicep affectionately. "The whole sarcastic smart-ass battle of wits, I mean. None of my other friends back home could keep up quite like you."

Osamu hummed, the barest hint of a smirk playing over his features as he merged onto the highway. "You say that like it's a good thing, dork. Pretty sure half the gray hairs I'm rocking now are from all the stress of dealing with your particular brand of chaos all those years."

You scoffed dramatically. "Pleaaaase, I single-handedly kept you from being an even bigger stick in the mud growing up. You're welcome for helping cultivate your sparkling personality, sir."

That earned you an eye roll, but you didn't miss the undeniable warmth flickering in the depths of Osamu's intense stare every time he snuck a glance your way. Like he was just as pleased at falling back into this familiar banter as you were.

The rest of the drive passed in a similar fashion - full of laughing recollections of old haunts long abandoned and inside jokes so deeply embedded you were the only two people left who understood them anymore. Whenever a lull arose, one of you would almost immediately find some new embarrassing anecdote to poke fun at the other over, dragging yourselves into another spiral of cackling wisecracks until you could scarcely breathe.

It was only as Osamu navigated his car through your new neighborhood's winding streets that the conversation lulled more naturally. A comfortable quiet blanketed over you both, replete with unspoken depths of affection and certainty built up over literal decades of steadfast camaraderie against all odds.

When he finally pulled up to the curb outside your new building, you felt a bizarre pang in your chest - a reluctance to break this tranquil cocoon of nostalgia and easy familiarity just yet despite the obvious need to collect your luggage waiting in the trunk.

Osamu must have sensed your hesitation because he shot you another one of those subtle sidelong looks, pewter irises inscrutable. You maintained the heavy silence for another suspended heartbeat before gesturing vaguely towards the car's rear.

"Well...I guess we should probably see about unstuffing the trunk before the neighbors start thinking we're accomplices in some robbery or something, huh?"

His low chuckle rumbled through the space between you, rich and effortlessly relaxing your tensed shoulders all over again. "Yeah, yeah...I got it. You just sit tight and I'll start hauling your mountain of crap inside before the old guy veins start bursting too much strain."

You grinned and stuck out your tongue as he unbuckled and moved to exit the vehicle. Typical Osamu - always keeping things low-key and pragmatic no matter the situation, even when it came to giving you grief over your travel habits.

Feeling lighter than you had since initially booking your return ticket, you pushed open your own door and stretched out your travel-weary limbs while waiting for your friend to join you. Over the still-running engine's idle rumble, you could hear Osamu's telltale grumbling and shuffling on the other side of the sedan as he rooted around the trunk area.

You couldn't resist tossing another teasing quip over your shoulder. "Need a hand over there with my 'mountain of crap', your highness? Or should I just leave you to suffer under the strain alone a bit longer as punishment for the snark?"

You'd barely gotten the words out before freezing dead in your tracks, one foot already hovering outside the car door to disembark as your heart lurched into your throat. Because rather than issuing some characteristically dry retort or scoffing rejoinder...Osamu had simply appeared beside you in one fluid, prowling motion - broad chest heaving slightly and intense eyes burning into yours with laser focus.

Before you could even suck down enough air for a startled yelp, his calloused palm curved around your nape with surprising reverence and urgency - tilting your head just enough to slot your parted lips together in a scorching, fevered collision. One that robbed what little oxygen remained in your lungs completely as Osamu sealed his mouth over yours in a heated glide of rasping demand.

You whimpered helplessly against the searing onslaught despite every rational cell screaming at the sudden freefall. And as Osamu growled in response, tongue delving deeper to chase the trembling surrender in your very marrow, you found yourself clutching his shirt in desperation - torn between shoving him away or clinging for dear life in the rapturous storm.

Just as quickly as the explosive fusion ignited, however, Osamu was tearing himself away with a harsh inhale. You stared at each other in twin states of dumbstruck bewilderment - both panting harshly and thoroughly awash in the lingering aftermath of whatever that was.

Before you could unstick your frozen tongue enough to articulate the maelstrom of shock and confusion ricocheting between your ears, Osamu leaned in once more and pressed a single, shuddering exhale against your damp lips.

"Bags...yeah, lemme get those inside for you first," he rasped out in a wrecked rumble that made your knees go weak all over again for an entirely different reason now.

You blinked at him owlishly for a beat, still reeling from the molten collision that had just blurred every line between you mere moments ago. But true to form, your oldest friend simply turned and began hauling your numerous suitcases from the car's trunk without further preamble.

Despite the electric tension still sparking over every nerve ending, you found yourself falling back into familiar patterns without conscious thought - gathering the smaller carry-ons and preceding him up the front walk towards your new apartment's entrance.

Neither of you spoke a word beyond the occasional directional murmur as you located the right door and disarmed the lock. An outside observer would find nothing remotely amiss about the scene unfolding between two people who'd known each other longer than most could fathom.

Yet the lack of acknowledgment regarding Osamu's heated outburst out by the curb only amplified the sense of dizzying unreality now draped over your shoulders. Had that happened at all? Or maybe it was simply the thrilling first flickers of an intoxicating dream bleeding into waking life for once?

You couldn't resist darting quick, sidelong glances at him from beneath your lashes as Osamu moved about depositing your luggage throughout the front room. He didn't seem disturbed in the slightest - features settled into those same stoic, carefully neutral lines you knew better than your own reflection.

Only the occasional flare of his nostrils or reflexive bob of his throat as he swallowed betrayed the lingering heat simmering just below the surface each time your gazes happened to intersect accidentally. It made you dizzy, this bizarre vacillation from unholy passion back to mundane patterns - like a vicious rubber band stretched taut before snapping loose without warning over and over.

Eventually, the final bag thudded into the pile and Osamu straightened to regard you head-on once more. Any sardonic quips about your inability to pack lightly died on your tongue as you took in the weight of that piercing steel-gray stare boring into you with renewed intensity.

Before you knew what was happening, Osamu stalked forward in three prowling strides that should've had your senses shrieking in instinctive retreat. But all you could manage was a trembling inhale as he backed you up against the nearest wall with purposeful possession - caging you in on both sides with those powerful forearms.

"'Samu, what—"

Whatever feeble protest your addled mind scrambled to summon withered entirely as Osamu dipped his head and sealed his mouth over yours in another explosive, wholly unexpected fusion. You moaned outright this time, relishing the smoky musk and cedar wood notes of his scent enveloping you in a rapturous shroud as his tongue swept inside.

Osamu groaned in answering delight, drinking down each needy little keen as he set about ravaging you with delirious single-minded intent. One broad palm cradled the nape of your neck to keep you angled vulnerably for his thorough possession - tilting and angling your parted lips to grant him deeper access.

You clutched at the firm muscles bracketing your waist mindlessly, nails raking with every desperate roll of your hips chasing more friction against his undulating form. Only when your ragged gasps pitched higher in the rapidly fogging air did Osamu finally tear away with a harsh inhale - though he made no move to disentangle from your helpless sprawl entirely.

The weight of his intense gaze as he studied your disheveled, panting state robbed you of any coherent protests still rattling in the disjointed remnants of your mind. Instead, you simply watched in transfixed awe as Osamu leaned in once more to ghost a revenant swipe of his tongue over your damp, kiss-swollen lips.

"Tomorrow, [Y/N]," he rumbled in a voice gone to gravel and sin made flesh against the vulnerable juncture of your throat. "First thing, or I'm not gonna be able to keep my hands off you much longer..."

You could only keen feebly as his teeth nipped at the slender column there in reprimand before Osamu withdrew entirely on another scalding exhale. He pinned you with one final, simmering look that promised so many more unholy delights to come in its depths before turning on his heel.

"I'll see you at the shop for sure," he tossed over his shoulder in that same careless drawl tinged with husky promise now. "Get some rest while you still can..."

And on that confounding parting note, Osamu slipped back out into the shadowed hallway beyond - pausing only briefly to toss you one final lingering look that made your thighs tremble instinctively. Before the echo of his footfalls faded from your consciousness entirely, you were pressed back against the wall with leaden limbs and breath still coming in sharp staccato bursts.

What had just happened? Or rather, what cosmic floodgates had finally been irrevocably pried open in one heated, unspoken downpour that threatened to shatter every known facet of your relationship with Osamu entirely?

You had no idea. But one glaring truth blazed forth in blinding clarity despite your spinning disorientation still:

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough...

You tried not to dwell too heavily on the loaded implications laced through Osamu's parting words as you dragged yourself through your nightly routine in a bit of a daze. But no matter how you tried distracting yourself with mundane tasks and unpacking, flashes of his smoldering stare kept creeping in - stoking the lingering butterflies still rioting in your belly.

Sleep eventually claimed you in fits and bursts, restless dreams threaded through with phantom caresses and rasping whispers that left you gasping awake more than once. By the time your alarm blared into wakefulness the next morning, you felt more drained yet feverishly buzzing with anticipation than ever.

Getting ready on autopilot, you hyper-focused on simply making it through the immediate challenge ahead - seeing Osamu at his little onigiri shop as promised, as if nothing earth-shattering had erupted between you both last night. The entire walk over felt charged, every breath filling your lungs with the same heady tension that had cloaked over you in his presence since the airport reunion.

Except this time, you couldn't shove aside the implications behind each lingering look or simmering flicker in those intense pewter irises quite so easily. Not after finally shattering that fragile line forever with a few stolen, heated kisses that should've set your entire world ablaze completely.

The familiar ring of the bell above the door sent a little thrill through you as you stepped into Osamu's onigiri shop. Despite the lingering tension and unspoken implications smoldering between you since last night's...encounter, you were determined to simply enjoy being back in your oldest friend's presence again.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mrs. I-Can't-Be-Bothered-To-Call-First gracing us all with her presence," Osamu's rich baritone greeted you over the muted bustle of the small lunchtime rush.

You shot him a saucy grin, reveling in the familiar banter as you approached the counter. "Keep that sass up and I won't share the souvenirs I brought back for your ungrateful ass, mister."

Osamu's lips twitched upwards in that subtle yet utterly devastating half-smile you adored so much, eyes crinkling warmly even as he scoffed. "Like I'd want any of your weird knickknack junk cluttering up my shop anyway."

The two of you continued trading playful insults and jabs as you settled onto a stool, content to simply soak in Osamu's presence again after so long apart. Any residual tension from last night's explosive shared moment seemed to settle on the back burner as you fell back into the easy cadence that had anchored your connection for literal decades.

Osamu drifted back and forth behind the counter while simultaneously tending to orders, keeping up a steady stream of dry quips and smirks pitched just for your amusement all the while. You matched him step for step in turn, biting back laughter whenever his gruff one-liners proved too much. This was where you both thrived - bouncing off each other's sarcastic frequency with sublime ease and a profound intimacy that no years or distance between you could ever fracture.

At least, that was what you kept repeating like a mantra in the back of your mind whenever glimpses of that scorching intensity flickered through Osamu's gorgeous pewter gaze whenever it tracked over your features. A molten reminder of the unraveling tension you'd only just whetted the surface of the night before...

You tried valiantly to ignore the flutter of butterflies swooping through your belly each time without fail. Tossing out another sly rejoinder instead, just to reinforce the sense of normalcy and comfort this was all supposed to be about. Just old friends reuniting after too long apart, nothing more complicated than that.

Yet as the afternoon hours wound lazily by, you couldn't quite smother the rising anticipation prickling over your nerves anew. Osamu seemed utterly unruffled and focused on his work, but you felt his gaze lingering more often than not - studying you with an inscrutable heat dancing in those striking irises.

By the time evening rolled around and the last customers slowly trickled out, shouting their thanks and well-wishes over their shoulders, you felt strangely adrift despite the lingering warmth of reconnecting with Osamu again all day.

As your oldest friend waved them off with typical gruffness, you found yourself slipping back into the familiar comforting routines you'd fallen into while at his house a lifetime ago - gathering stray dishes, wiping down the countertops, straightening each of the comfy armchairs you both favored during quieter hours.

So absorbed were you in the mundane motions and reliving aged memories attached to every nook and cranny of the humble onigiri shop, you completely missed the distinct sound of the front door locking behind you. Nor did you notice the sudden weighted silence draped over the space like a physical presence until a solid wall of blazing heat pressed flush against your back.

You gasped sharply, frozen mid-motion before a large palm splayed over your abdomen - callused fingertips digging into the pliant give of your waist with delicious possession as your captor rumbled approval against your nape.

"There's my good girl," Osamu growled in a voice gone to scorching gravel that made you flush instantly. "All dolled up and playing at being the obedient little helper again for me...you know damn well that disguise won't fly anymore after last night, don't you baby?"

You trembled despite your best efforts, breath hitching as he nuzzled deeper into the fragrant tangle of your hair - lips skating over the thundering pulse at your throat in maddening prelude. Every powerful shift and roll of his taut muscle caged you between the iron brands of his arms deliciously.

"O-Osamu..." you somehow managed to whimper out, torn between protesting his sultry accusations or surrendering to the delirious current already pulling at your senses with dizzying force.

His low, dark chuckle reverberated straight through your attenuated nerves anew as one broad palm anchored itself over your belly, dragging you snug against the unforgiving planes of his chest in a slow, sinuous grind. You gasped at the unmistakable hardness of his cock etching against the supple curve of your ass - slick fabric doing nothing to conceal the virile intent radiating off your oldest friend in molten waves now.

"Such a pretty show you put on all day long, hm?" Osamu purred in a tone dripping with raw masculine approval - the other hand palming the generous swell of your breast as if to emphasize the point. "Playing coy and innocent like you weren't creaming those pretty little panties at the very thought of me pinning you down and giving it to you proper..."

Another whimper slipped free as his clever fingers rolled and plucked at your taut nipple through the thin material - teasing sparks of electric pleasure arcing straight down to your thrumming core. You instinctively arched back into the furnace of his powerful frame, head lolling as he lavished open-mouthed kisses along your arched throat.

"And you know what the best part is, my sweet?" he growled out darkly between each searing caress and bruising nips. "You never even noticed… how much I’ve been thinking about you all these years, just like this..."

Before you could form a single coherent protest, Osamu spun you effortlessly to pin you facing him - sculpted chest heaving and pewter gaze blown wide with unfettered lust and blistering possession. You stared up at your oldest friend in wonder, utterly transfixed by the unholy intent simmering in his every smoldering look and dexterous touch now.

This was your Osamu - indelible anchor and source of joy turned singular rapture incarnate, trapping you within the scorching gravity well of his ravenous focus entirely. And you'd never felt so deliriously desirous of sinking into its cavernous depths without hope of reprieve or salvation beyond what he chose to impart through the profane benedictions of his lips and hands alone.

As if sensing your silent, wanton surrender in that suspended heartbeat, the smallest smirk curved those full lips you'd already been branded by in delicious perpetuity. Osamu dragged the seam of his mouth over yours in a featherlight tease - tongue flicking out to taste the trembling whimpers he'd already coaxed forth so expertly.

"So what do you say, pretty girl?" he growled in a tone that promised euphoria and rapture in equal measures. "Are you gonna be good and take what I've been dreaming of giving you for far too long now, hm?"

You could only whimper and nod shakily, already undone by the sheer virile promise simmering in his scorching stare as he captured your mouth in a searing, unraveling glide of possession that ignited every nerve ending instantaneously. As Osamu hoisted you up effortlessly, strong hands cradling the plush swell of your ass and squeezing with unrepentant glee as you twined your limbs around him instinctively, the last vestiges of restraint and hesitation were obliterated entirely.

And this time, neither of you had the slightest intention of looking back...

"Mmm, there we go, baby," Osamu purred against the tender flesh of your throat as he strode across the modest expanse of the onigiri shop. "God, the things I've wanted to do to you since we were stupid teenagers - you have no idea..."

You moaned feebly, utterly lost to the sensation of being carried effortlessly in those strong arms - cradled and claimed so effortlessly in turn. Every step sent sparks of electric arousal skittering along the hypersensitive pathways of your nerves as the rigid press of his cock strained the zipper of his jeans, rubbing torturous friction over the dampened apex of your thighs.

You'd always adored his size and stature, but the sheer virility thrumming off Osamu's powerful form as he pinned you against the nearest wall and devoured your mouth whole was an intoxicating revelation in and of itself.

Osamu growled in wordless appreciation as you arched your spine and rolled your hips - grinding and squirming desperately in pursuit of more. He tore away with a harsh curse, pewter irises glinting with the same ravenous desire still pulsing through you.

"You're not making this easy on me, sweet girl," he bit out roughly, though his tone was threaded through with that same possessive approval.

He punctuated the point by pinning you flat against the wall, his larger body caging yours effortlessly as the rock-hard length of his cock wedged right against the sopping seam of your panties. You mewled, helpless and aching as the first hint of his impressive size and girth registered in the foggy recesses of your mind.

"Naughty girl, making such a mess of those pretty panties already," he chided, rocking his hips once for emphasis as you keened and shuddered. "What am I gonna do with you, hm? Maybe I'll just have to get a taste, see what kind of honey my sweet little girl is dripping just for me..."

And before you could fully comprehend the implications of his husky taunts, Osamu was on his knees - dragging your panties down your thighs in one smooth motion as he nuzzled against the soft mound of your pussy. The first swipe of his clever tongue dragged a ragged cry from your lips as you fisted his silken hair desperately.

Osamu chuckled darkly, lapping and slurping in filthy, wet strokes that made you flush hot with utter wanton embarrassment. He was licking you clean, tongue laving over your soaked folds and sucking them greedily - drinking down the slick evidence of your needy desire and groaning in satisfaction.

"So fucking sweet," he growled, gripping the generous swell of your ass and dragging you closer. "Been waiting forever to find out what you taste like, sweet girl, and it's even better than I ever dreamed..."

"O-samu..."

You had no idea what was even trying to tumble out past your wrecked whimpers, but the sight of his dark head buried between your quivering thighs, devouring your pussy like a man starved was enough to send you reeling. Osamu's gaze snapped upwards, glittering and predatory - a lethal combination that made you throb and clench hungrily.

"Tell me how much you love it," he commanded silkily, even as he resumed his relentless oral assault - two thick digits sinking deep and curling in a come-hither motion that made your eyes roll back instantly.

"T-too much," you whimpered, writhing and grinding helplessly into his ministrations. "Too good, O-Osamu...I'm gonna..."

He tutted, pulling away abruptly to lap at the creamy rivulets dripping down the plump swell of your thigh. "Already, sweet girl? But we're just getting started...unless you'd rather just cum on my tongue first, hm? Get a few rounds out of the way before I really fuck you how you deserve..."

"Please," you sobbed, shaking your head and reaching out to tangle your fingers through the silky tresses of his hair. "Want you, O-samu...wanna cum on your cock..."

Osamu chuckled darkly, peppering a trail of nips and kisses as he dragged his mouth back over the swollen folds of your pussy - lapping and slurping noisily. You moaned, arching back into the delicious torture as the tension coiled tighter, ready to snap and send you crashing into bliss.

Just as your release hovered within tantalizing reach, Osamu pulled away completely - leaving you gasping and trembling against the wall as he rose to his feet. You whimpered, feeling the loss of his wicked mouth and the sudden emptiness that left you aching.

"Shh, baby, it's okay," he soothed, cradling your jaw in a palm that dwarfed your features and kissing you soundly. The taste of your own juices on his lips made you groan anew, clinging to his shoulders as his other hand stroked your spine in lazy, soothing circles. "You'll get your turn, my sweet girl, don't worry."

Somehow, his raspy purr managed to ground you and center you once more - bringing you back to the present moment and the promise of euphoric release still waiting in the wings. You blinked up at Osamu, dazed and needy as you nodded slowly.

His answering smirk sent a fresh wave of butterflies swarming in your belly as he scooped you into his arms and carried you off once more - this time, through the doorway at the end of the small hallway that led to the stairs up to his apartment.

By the time the door swung open, your heart was racing in anticipation. Osamu didn't bother turning the lights on, navigating the familiar space with ease. A lamp flickered to life a few moments later, casting the cozy bedroom in a warm glow as he deposited you onto the plush duvet.

You barely had a chance to glance around the room, soaking in the subtle changes that had been wrought in the intervening years, before he was looming over you again - gaze smoldering and a hungry smile tugging at his full lips.

"Now, where were we, my sweet?"

You were all too eager to pull him down on top of you - mouths crashing together in a wild clash of teeth and tongues that only made the desire pulsing between your thighs that much more urgent. You tugged impatiently at his shirt, desperate to feel his heated skin sliding against your own.

Osamu obliged readily, stripping out of the offending garment and tossing it aside. His hands roamed greedily over your body, dragging the hem of your dress up and off in one fluid motion - leaving you in nothing but the thin scrap of lace covering your breasts.

The sight of his broad palms skating over your naked torso made your breath hitch, arching and shivering in response. Osamu took his sweet time, palming and kneading the soft give of your flesh, his eyes never once straying from the sight.

"Always so perfect," he groaned, thumbing over your taut nipples and dragging another needy mewl free. "Gonna make such a perfect mama someday, sweet girl. Fuck, I can't wait to breed you properly..."

Your entire body flushed with heat at the lurid promise - the mental image of yourself, full and heavy with his child, too enticing for words. He smirked at the visible reaction, tweaking your sensitive nipples again as he ducked down to claim your mouth in a possessive kiss.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" he growled against the swollen plushness of your lips, his hips grinding down and dragging the rigid line of his cock over your sweat-slick tummy. "Want me to stuff you full and breed you good and proper, my sweet girl?"

You could only whimper, nodding shakily as you fumbled with the buckle of his belt. "Please, Osamu," you mewled, tugging impatiently at the waistband of his jeans and boxers until his cock sprang free - long and thick and heavy and oh, God...

A guttural groan ripped free from the depths of his chest, his grip tightening as he rutted his hips - cock dragging over the soft flesh of your tummy, slicking it with beads of pre-cum. You shuddered, already feeling the pulse and twitch of his length as it throbbed and ached.

"Gotta get you ready for me first," Osamu rasped, pressing a bruising kiss against the curve of your throat and shoulder before rolling off of you and onto his back. "Why don't you be a good girl and help me out a little, hm?"

He was already yanking his jeans down and shoving them off his hips - exposing the sculpted v-cut that dipped towards the impressive length jutting from the thatch of silky dark curls. You could only nod, already leaning over and reaching out for the molten shaft.

Osamu caught your wrist easily, giving a gentle squeeze as his gaze burned. "Nuh-uh, sweet girl. Mouth only, got it? I don't wanna make a mess just yet, and I know you're more than capable of swallowing me down..."

Another rush of heat surged through you, flushing your cheeks with humiliation and desire as you nodded eagerly. The salty tang of his precum made your mouth water as you licked a teasing swipe from root to tip, savoring the musky flavor and relishing in the way Osamu hissed sharply.

"Such a pretty thing, just as hungry for my cock as I am for that sweet cunt of yours, huh?" he purred, carding his fingers through the disheveled tangle of your hair with an unmistakable possessiveness. "I’ve been dreaming of this for so long, sweet girl. Dreaming of feeding you my cock until I stuff that pretty throat full..."

You couldn't help the needy mewl that escaped, tongue darting out to lave over the crown once more before swallowing the broad head and suckling gently. Osamu groaned, hips stuttering and grip tightening as he forced himself not to thrust upwards.

"F-fuck, just like that, sweet girl," he growled, his voice strained. "Wanna feel you choke on it a little, think you can take it?"

You whimpered in response, relaxing your jaw and sinking down further - inch by slow inch until you could feel him nudging against the back of your throat. Osamu cursed, hips flexing instinctively and sending his cock that much deeper as you choked and sputtered, drool slipping down his shaft and coating his balls.

"Oh, f-fuck, sweetheart, look at you...taking my cock so good, just like I knew you would," he groaned, hips rolling lazily as he fucked the tight channel of your throat. Your jaw ached, throat protesting as he slid in and out. Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes, and you fought the urge to cough and gag. It was overwhelming, a sensation bordering on too much, and yet you wanted nothing more than to feel the hot ropes of his cum sliding down your throat and filling your belly.

Osamu's breaths came in rough pants, the muscles of his abdomen clenching and releasing as he drove his cock deeper with every thrust. His gaze was fixed on the spot where your lips were stretched taut around his shaft, groaning in approval when he felt the press of your tongue along the underside of his cock.

"So good, baby, s-so fucking good," he grunted, his hips snapping a little faster, a little harder, chasing the inevitable release. You swallowed and choked around him, gagging and gasping for breath, but still you sucked him down greedily - determined to make him cum.

You were a vision, tears streaking down your flushed cheeks, mascara leaving streaks in their wake as Osamu used your throat. And it was everything he had ever imagined it would be and more. The sounds of your messy, desperate little gags and choked off whimpers sent fresh pulses of pleasure skittering along his nerves.

His balls tightened, a familiar ache thrumming through the shaft of his cock, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He fucked into the tight suction of your mouth, the head of his cock bumping the back of your throat and forcing you to swallow reflexively.

"G-gonna cum," he gritted out, tugging roughly at the roots of your hair. "Want you to drink it all down, baby. Every last drop, just like the greedy girl you are. S-so fucking close..."

Your tongue darted out, lapping at the droplets of precum oozing from the tip and swallowing hungrily. Osamu groaned, eyes screwing shut and mouth falling open as his cock twitched and jerked - spilling rope after rope of hot, salty seed directly down the tight channel of your undulating throat.

You coughed and spluttered, fighting to swallow as much as you could, but Osamu held your head firmly in place, riding the aftershocks as he chased every ounce of pleasure. His eyes glinted when you finally pulled away, a mixture of triumph and lust making them glitter dangerously.

"Such a good girl," he crooned, cupping your cheek and tracing the swell of your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You mewled quietly, tongue darting out to catch the smear of milky white coating the digit.

"Mm, so good," he growled, his cock already beginning to harden again at the sight. "But we're not done yet, are we, sweet girl? That greedy little cunt of yours is still practically begging for my cock, isn't it? Gonna fill you up until there's no room left..."

You moaned, nodding eagerly and leaning forward to steal a hungry kiss, the lingering flavor of his cum still coating your tongue. Osamu returned the kiss greedily, one hand fisting in the tangled locks of your hair, while the other tugged at the scrap of fabric still covering your breasts.

With a growl, he tore the lace, the shredded fabric joining the growing pile on the floor as his lips dragged over the tender swell of your breasts. Osamu paused, sucking and nipping a path from one sensitive nipple to the other before closing his lips around the puckered bud.

You keened, writhing helplessly beneath him, but the hand gripping the back of your skull held you fast. The wet sounds of his mouth and the occasional scrape of teeth was almost enough to distract you from the fingers that had worked their way between your legs - slipping and sliding through the sloppy mess of your pussy with ease.

"Fuck, you really did make a mess of yourself," he muttered, sucking harder on the swollen bud as his fingers curled and sank deeper, searching and probing with single-minded intent. "Bet I could make you cum right now if I wanted, just like this, huh, sweet girl?"

"N-no," you whined, shaking your head even as the coil of pressure threatened to snap. "W-want your cock, 'Samu...need you to fuck me..."

He chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers and dragging the slick digits over the plump mound of your breast - coating the sensitive flesh with the evidence of your arousal. "Don't worry, sweet girl, I'm not gonna leave you empty. Gonna give you everything you need..."

The words were barely out of his mouth before he was on top of you once more, pinning you against the mattress as he slotted between your trembling thighs. The blunt head of his cock nudged against your swollen, aching pussy, and you nearly sobbed with relief.

"Tell me," Osamu grunted, the first few inches of his length sinking into your welcoming heat. "Tell me you need me, sweet girl. Tell me who's gonna take care of you and fuck you so good."

"Y-you, Osamu," you sobbed, the sensation of being so completely filled already bringing the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes once more. "I n-need you...I've always needed you, Osamu, please, please, please..."

He groaned, the sound almost pained as he sank the final inch and buried himself to the hilt. You were stretched taut around him, a perfect fit for his cock and his cock alone, and it was so much better than he could have ever dreamed.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this, sweet girl," he gritted out, hips snapping roughly as he fucked into you. "How many nights I spent fucking my fist just thinking about you, wishing it was your perfect cunt squeezing the cum right outta me...and now I get to have you, fuck, I never wanna let you go..."

"Y-yours, Osamu," you moaned, clinging desperately to his shoulders as he set a punishing pace, the slap of his skin against yours echoing through the small bedroom. "Always been yours..."

He snarled, hips stuttering slightly at the confession. It had been far too easy to believe otherwise in the years apart, but with you clinging to him, begging and pleading for more, the truth was undeniable.

You were his.

Osamu was all too happy to remind you of that fact - his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he rutted into you with wild abandon. The bedframe creaked and groaned, the headboard thudding loudly against the wall as he drove into you with single-minded focus.

"F-fuck, 'm close," he panted, sweat beading along his brow. "G-gonna fill this pretty cunt with so much cum, baby, fuck, 'm gonna breed you just like I promised...get you all nice and heavy, m-make sure everyone knows you're mine."

Your own orgasm was barreling towards you, coiling tighter and tighter with every rough snap of his hips. His name was a breathless mantra falling from your lips, fingers clutching desperately at the muscles of his back, as if afraid that letting go meant he would vanish.

"That's it, baby, cum for me," Osamu grunted, a particularly sharp thrust striking the hidden bundle of nerves inside you that made you see stars. "Let me feel you cum on my cock, [Y/N]. Gotta fill this cunt up just right, wanna watch it drip out, oh, f-fuck, please...please, 'm so fucking close..."

It was as though his words had flipped a switch, pleasure pulsing through your veins as the coil snapped. You sobbed his name, clinging to him as your entire body shuddered and shook, muscles contracting and fluttering around the molten length stretching you so deliciously.

Osamu cursed, the tight, pulsating squeeze of your pussy proving too much as he thrust once, twice more, burying himself to the hilt as he came. Thick ropes of his cum painted your walls, coating them with a white-hot heat that had your eyes rolling back.

He collapsed on top of you, burying his face against the damp curve of your throat and muffling his own desperate cries as he emptied himself completely. The room fell silent, save for the ragged, hitching pants of your breaths as you clung to one another.

It took several long moments for your senses to return, and when they did, it was to the comforting weight of Osamu still sprawled across you, his arms wrapped around your torso and his lips pressed to the thundering pulse of your neck.

You sighed softly, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and let yourself enjoy the warmth and comfort for just a little while longer.

The rest would come soon enough.

[2knightt]

「 you are—unforgettable.」

IN WHICH—you’re them and they’re you!♡ ໋֢ 👒✧

🍵ヾFT. THE GREASERS࿐ྀུ ♡

⌗ 👒 notes !𖥔༌ ᰷ ﹅ people in this fic refer to two-bit as ‘keith.’ who cuz who the FUCK says ‘he got his two-bits in🤓’ NOBODY! but in the descriptive parts he will be two-bit. ALSO IF U DON’T UNDERSTAND WHAT I’M SAYING LOOK IN THE TAGS!

Ponyboy Curtis ;

his class was gonna watch this movie before reading a book. ‘the outsiders,’ or somethin’.

it was made in the ‘80’s—he didn’t want to even watch it. watching movies in class was the worst!

ponyboy sat at his desk, head in his arms. he heard the music and looked up, chin resting on his arms.

when ponyboy seen you writing down and narrating, he could’ve sworn he died and came back to life. LIKE WHEN HE HEARD YOUR VOICEEE HE GOT A LITTLE BLUSH ON HIS CHEEKS.

his friends beside him noticed, snickering to themselves. they shoved him, asking if that was his future partner. he just pushed them off, quietly telling them to fuck off.

when ponyboy seen you covered in the soot??? phew—he questioned his morals, man. and THEN HE SEEN YOU BEAT UP?? he was getting FED.

ponyboy came out of that school a new man.

his ears were hot, his cheeks were red, and he was already looking up edits of you. ponyboy shoved those almost broken wired apple headphones in his ears and tuned everyone out.

when he got home he ignored any questions darry and soda threw at him and immediately went to his room. ponyboy quietly closed the door before hopping into bed, pulling out his phone, and going on tiktok.

spent like a solid 30 minutes tweaking over edits of you. like full on screaming into his pillow—i’m so serious.

“darry, what the hell is that noise?”

“i dunn—ponyboy?”

“AHHH!!”

when he found out that, outside of the outsiders, you’re decades older than him he was SO HEARTBROKEN.

the gang seen him looking at photos of you and immediately started teasing him. he absolutely tried to back himself up with stutters.

“they’re how much years older than you, bro?”

“NONO HEAR ME OUT, PLEASE! KEITH, BRO, PLEASE.”

reads fanfic. look at me in the eyes and try to tell me that ponyboy motherfucking curtis doesn’t read fanfiction.

you can’t.

like bro he’s so desperate for more content of you to the point where he writes the fics he yearns for—got pretty popular to.

“why the fuck is your phone blowing up?”

“PLEASE don’t ask me any questions about it.”

he’s a freak. he knows everything about you. ponyboy’s even began to watch your interview’s about the movie. and your other movies.

literally a teenage girl.

“THEY’RE SO FINE THOUGH, PLEASE!”

“nuh-uh.”

“FUCK YOU MEAN ‘NUH-UH’?”

Johnny Cade ;

seen you when he was watching random movies at the curtis house. at first he was like, ‘wait!! they’re so me coded😛.’ it never occurred to him that you could be so cute.

he seen you crying and something in him like actually snapped.

“wait….am i getting a crush? they’re kinda…”

when he seen the equivalent of ponyboy in this universe snuggled up to you in the church he was soooo jealous.

yk that one audio where it’s like, “how long is he gon’ be talking to my WIFE.” that’s literally johnny cade when he seen that person kiss the top of your head.

“what the fuck?”

“…what do you mean?”

“nothin’. it’s just kinda bullshit that they swoop in and steal my chance😒.”

“you never had one.”

“okay, pal😐.”

heart broke when he seen you in the hospital bed btw. like was full on gripping onto a pillow with tears in his eyes.

johnny was in such denial when he seen you die😭. ‘bro, no. they literally aren’t dead.’/‘guys!! it’s just a prank!!’

when he got to the scene he was in SHAMBLES. HE WAS INCONSOLABLE. ripping his hair out, screaming, crying, allat.

“stay gold…”

“NOOOOOOO-“

was so pissed when you didn’t come back. was even more pissed when your letter was read out loud.

“HOW COULD THEY KILL THEM OFF?? THEY DIDN’T DESERVE IT!”

“johnny, it’s a movie.”

“this is so unfair. i hate movies.”

gets nervous looking at photos of you. like to the point where he tries to look up your name on pinterest before bailing mid sentence and giggling. like full on throwing his phone across the room, kicking his feet.

will talk for hours about you. thinks your the coolest character ever!! defends you like his life depends on it.

“they killed someone?”

“so?? you’re acting like you wouldn’t do it to🤣🤣 fake ahh friend.”

—

“they legit can’t stand up for themselves. you want someone like that to be out walking them streets?”

“oh, god for bid a person has trauma. and YES I DO🗣️. i hope they walk right into my arms, HO.”

all said online btw. he would never ruin his ego by speaking like this. i am a strong believer johnny cade puts up a strong front online.

johnny literally thinks you’re the cutest person he’s ever seen. like his cheeks get so hot when he thinks about you and he gets a silly little smile on his face.

he looks at photos of you and his friends think he has a little girlfriend.

“who you textin’, johnnycakes?”

“nobody-uh!”

“c’mon—we see that smile!”

and it’s literally just you with blood dripping down your face.

Dallas Winston ;

caught a glimpse of you at some girls house he slept at. literally stopped dead in his tracks as he seen you light a cigarette before mumbling, ‘nothin’ legal, man.’

“i-uh, what movie’s this?”

“huh? oh, the outsiders. pretty good movie.”

he thanked her and threw on his jacket before speed walking to bucks place. he had to watch this movie or he’s actually lose it.

imagine buck’s bar is actually a house, kay? dallas sits his pretty little ass on that couch, flips to whatever streaming service, and turns on ‘the outsiders.’

thought it was all boring until he seen you walk into frame—mocking the main character. at that very moment he was all, ‘wait that’s kinda hot.’

seeing you help the two younger ones run away while still acting tough was so attractive to him. dallas felt like he was losing his mind.

seeing you run in after the two into the church kinda made his knees weak.

“BAE NO!”

“what the hell are you screamin’ ‘bout?”

“nothin’, buck…”

he was so scared that you’d die in the fire. (little did old dallas know am i right fellas!!!!) like i swear to god he was so scared you’d end up like the johnny in this universe.

WHEN HE SEEN YOU FIGHTINGGG. he went feral. dallas was like so flustered. he was trying so hard to hide his blush to the ghosts around him with his hair.

his flush was short lived however. seeing you cry and then literally point a gun at a cashier was lowkey whiplash for him.

“what the fuck is happening?”

dallas figured out what was gonna happen early on and started kinda tearing up. like one tear formed in his eye before he blinked it away. but he was still devastated.

WHEN DALLY HEARD SOMEONE SCREAM “they’re just a kid!” he lost it. like actually. he went limp on the couch and spaced out. like damn…his fiancé, who doesn’t know they’re his fiancé yet, really WAS just a kid.

nobody knows he likes the outsiders OR that he has a crush on you. and they CAN’T know, it’s way too embarrassing. like actually.

when he’s with the gang and he’s just casually scrolling on tiktok and he sees the tags with your name, he immediately favourites it and scrolls. he saved it for later when he’s alone.

also defends you like there’s no tomorrow.

“they were hitting on someone who had a partner??”

“okay?? fucking live a little jesus.”

—

“THEY’RE A FUCKING CRIMINAL?”

“i’m into it tho lmfao”

swears up and down that if you and him were in a room together—you’d have a crush on him. top tier delusion.

like if he gets drunk with keith, he will rant about it.

“no—hear me out. put me in a room with y/n l/n and i swear to god they’re gonna be madly in love with me.”

“no they won’t, dallas.”

“yuh-huh.”

looks at photos of you and probably has you as his pfp on his spam. includes you in every other photo dump.

Sodapop Curtis ;

seen an edit of you on tiktok and audibly gasped. full on went, “WHO IS THATT😜” went to the tags and just scrolled under it for a good long while.

he seen a angst edit of you and made up his mind that he had to watch the movie.

for the while that you weren’t on screen, he was trying to push through. he really was. but deep down—in his head he was screaming, “BORING! SHOW ME THE PRETTY ONE!!”

when sodapop seen you tending to your younger sibling he could’ve sworn he was on cloud 9.

“my turn when :/.”

WHEN SODA SEEN YOU GET OUT OF THE SHOWERRR😭😭. he lost his BREATH like was full on gripping his imaginary pearls.

had to take a breather to walk around the house before unpausing the movie. had a blush across his cheeks, i can’t even lie.

when he learned that you were described as, “movie star attractive,” all he did was nod. like,

“mhm. i always knew my fiancé was good looking.”

SODA WAS APPALLED WHEN HE FOUND OUT THAT YOUR PARTNER CHEATED ON YOU. like jaw was on the FLOOR.

“I COULD TREAT THEM BETTER🗣️🗣️ THEY KNOW WHERE HOME IS!!”

he is so open about his little crush in you—it’s so cute :(

“steve, look at ‘em.”

“i see them—get your fuckin’ phone outta my face.”

“aren’t they so perfect??🤭🤭”

“i guess.”

“well, BACK OFF. we’re already happily married.”

“in your dreams maybe.”

“oh my god.”

soda has you as his pfp on at least two platforms. his name on one platform is “y/n’s boyfriend (REAL!)”

seeing you run out on your siblings after they grouped you into your argument made him just wanna hug you so bad. like he just wanted to tell you it was all gonna be okay.

has a album in his photos where it’s edits of you and photos. giggles and twirls his hair as he looks at it.

Darry Curtis ;

his parents used to watch the movie all the time and you’ve always just been a life long crush of his.

like when younger darry seen you walk into frame, comforting your kid sibling, something in his head snapped.

suddenly everything was in slow motion, there were hearts everywhere, he had rose coloured glasses on, and for some reason—harps play in the background.

as darry grew up it literally never went away. whenever the outsiders comes on when he’s home he always still goes, “woah.😍😍”

like he thinks you’re so fine.

he doesn’t like watch edits, read fanfic—none of that🗣️. but if he gets asked who is celebrity crush is—your name is coming out of his mouth ASAP.

“so, darry, who’s your celebrity cru-“

“y/n l/n.”

“but they’re a character?”

“Y/N L/N.”

he has like ONE printed out photo of you in his room from years ago. he knows exactly where it is and where to hide it, but he still keeps it.

at least once every two months, when everyone’s asleep and he has no work the next day, he’ll stay up just to watch the movie.

he’ll have a budlight in his hand as he watches you absolutely DEMOLISH at the rumble.

“i always knew they’d win.”

“you’ve watch this movie a thousand times.”

“PONYBOY?!”

the gang eventually found out his little crush on you. only light teasing ‘cause they’re so scared they’ll get that darry smoke if they push him further😭😭.

“oh my god! look, darry! you’re little crush is on screen!”

“steve, i will beat some sense into you if you don’t shut up.”

“…okay, bud.”

—

“when’s the weddin’?”

“after your funeral, keith.”

“wow. hater.”

Steve Randle ;

his dad fell asleep on the couch one night with this old movie playing in the background.

steve was about to turn it off before he caught a glimpse of you offering this half naked person some cake. he was all, ‘WAITTTT🙈🙈!!’

like he seen you in that sleeveless jacket and immediately fell in love. literally was on a mission to figure out who you were.

when he did? all he wanted to do was watch the outsiders. WHEN HE SEEN YOU SCOLDING THE MAIN CHARACTER HE SOO KNEW YOU WERE HIS TYPE

“wish they’d scold me like that…damn…😞✊”

was TWEAKING SOO HARD WHEN HE SEEN YOU ALL BLOODY WITH YOUR HEAD THROWN BACK.

“…you think i look tuff?”

“YES BAE!!!”

making his name on like insta or something, “y/n’s HUSBAND.” he puts emphasis on the husband because he believes that you want him so bad.

like actually. he’s fucking delusional.

“guys…they like cake…and I LIKE CAKE! do you see my vision??”

“no??”

“man, fuck you.”

photo dumps on insta of pictures of you with the caption, “from our honeymoon 😍😍😛😛!” his friends are ripping him apart in comments btw.

WOULD GO FOR WAR FOR YOU.

“they’re actually so gross what.”

“YOU’RE GROSS!🗣️ KEEP THEM OUT OF YOUR MOUTH YOU FOOL!!”

—

“they have 0 depth.”

“0 depth to YOU. to ME they’re the love of my life.”

Two-bit Matthews ;

seen the outsiders when he was drunk. he didn’t remember anything that night but the cute lil’ actor who was laughing after flirting with some rich lookin’ kid.

the only thing he remembers saying that night was,

“damn—when is it MY TURN😩😞”

WENT ON A FUCKING HUNT TO FIND THIS MOVIE ISTG. he was looking up shit that didn’t even matter to the plot—so he got different movies each time.

‘cute actor flirting’

‘cute actor in old ass movie’

‘mickey mouse shirt’

‘when was mickey mouse created’

‘who is walt disney’

he got a little distracted but that’s not the point. two-bit found the movie and cried tears of joy. fell to his knees and all😭.

he immediately turned the outsiders on and waited to see you. HE WAS SOO SAD TO FIND OUT YOU HAD LIKE SUCH LITTLE SCREENTIME.

but he worked with it. he was taking SO MUCH PHOTOS OF HIS TV WHEN YOU WERE ON SCREEN LMFAO. they were all so shaky too😭😭.

doesn’t shut the fuck up about you.

“they want me so bad🤣🤣😂😂.”

“they wouldn’t touch you with a ten foot pole, keith.”

“what if i killed myse-”

—

“they’re so find i won’t ‘em.”

“what the fuck are you saying?”

“what are YOU SAYING? back up.”

saves edits of you. he is ABSOLUTELY THE TYPE OF PERSON TO SAY THE MOST OUT OF POCKET SHIT ABOUT YOU IN THE COMMENTS LMFAOOO

‘they could beat the shit out of me and i thank them :3’

‘WHAT?’

‘omg who said that’

you are his profile picture everywhere. and anywhere.

genuinely believe you’re the love of his life. i swear to god he does. KING OF DELUSION ABOVE ALL ELSE!

[imclimbingthestairsoforthanc]

Love and Loss - Maedhros x Reader

Even after all those years, you could feel your lover's cold words biting into you like shards of ice. Despite his cruelty, losing him hurt. Sharper still was losing part of yourself.

The frigid air of Angband cruelly caressed Maehdros’ body as he hung, limp and numb, from the mountainside of Thangorodrim. He craned his head at the golden light that peaked above the horizon. It was so strange - it was a light eerily familiar with Laurelin.

He had met you there - under the golden tree of Valinor. The pink blush of your dress matched the Yuletide decorations and complimented your buoyant smile. It was one that he had soon begun to detest. 

He’d refrained from burning the ships at Losgar for the sake of you and his dear friend Fingon, through whom he had met you, but that wasn’t something he had ever cared to admit. No, he feared what his father might do to him in wrath were he to admit it. But that wasn’t to say that the indignation that his father felt to quite literally everyone of the Eldar save a precious few wasn’t a growth in the caverns of his own mind. The friendship that blossomed between the two of you had long been neglected and cast away. 

It could have been a trick of Morgoth’s. It was not out of character for the fallen Vala to torment Maedhros with impersonations of loved one’s and visions of the peaceful life he led before leaving home. Teasing him with memories and voices and phantom touches was something Morgoth seemed to take pleasure in, and though Maedhros had - wrongly - begun to harbor ill will towards you for a short while, Morgoth didn’t seem to mind taking full advantage of your memory from time to time. 

“Friends? A lover?” Morgoth would say as Maedhros reached out his free hand to take yours and kiss it under Laurelin’s light like he did that day upon your first meeting, only to prod his fingers at nothing but the biting cold air of Angband, “It would seem they have forsaken you, even in memory.”             

It was not, in fact, a picture of the light of the tree. Emerging over the horizon was a fiery orb hung in the sky, beautiful and terrible and, quite frankly, frightening. Maedhros had never seen anything like it. If it was an illusion, it was most certainly not one made of memory. 

Metal flickered in the blazing light, and when a rich, clear sound echoed off the mountainside, Maedhros recognized the gleaming gold to be the gold of the trumpets of Fingolfin.

He couldn’t really say he felt any bitterness or contempt as he watched the blue banners arise over the hills in the West. There was no resentment or hatred rising up in his throat like bile. After countless days (years? decades?) hung on the mountainside, Maedhros couldn’t really feel anything but desperation. 

Years of enmity were lost on his mind as he cried out to his kin marching over the hills. His voice was strong; his cries echoed on the rocks and down into the valley. He made no notion to stop, no matter how hoarse his throat would be or how cruel and fierce his lashings of penance.

Harsher still was the response of Fingolfin’s host - or rather, the absence of a response. 

______________________________________________________________________________

Turgon was the first to spot the great bird hurrying toward Hithlum bearing his brother and his cousin. He cried out in astonishment, and a hundred more gasps followed his own. Surprise soon turned to horror. 

Blood poured out of Maedhros, but from where could not be seen lest he was unswaddled. His face was contorted in anguish, and he clutched onto Fingon like a vice.

Despite the years of disregard he displayed for your relationship and the resulting contempt you festered for him, you almost pitied him. Almost.

You didn’t move as Fingon dismounted the great bird, only stared at the shrunken body of someone once loved and once loathed. Nothing stirred in your gut at the sight of him like it should have. There was no fierce rage blistering your insides as you watched Fingon carry Maedhros across the concrete in Hithlum like years of friendship had not been tossed to the wind - as Maedhros, unworthy as he was, re-entered your life, at least for the moment in thought. There was no real pity enveloping your now-still heart as you watched the black-haired archer haul his dear friend - your friend - to the healing rooms. 

You wished you hadn’t looked.

Amidst the blood and dirt that caked his skin you saw Maedhros’ once gleaming eyes wild and frantic. You adored when those eyes were warm and kind and you loathed him when they were cold and piercing, but something entirely gut-wrenching crept under your skin as you saw Maedhros Fëanorion in utter agony and panic. 

You shrugged, then turned away and made your way to your chambers. He’d lost too much blood - if he made it to the morrow he’d not remember you, or the tears that he surely would have seen pooled up in your eyes upon his return. 

______________________________________________________________________________

It seemed that even though Maedhros wouldn’t remember the day’s events, he was determined to make sure everyone else would. His cries of anguish were indescribable; his screams unlike any you had ever heard before, even crossing the Grinding Ice. You had tossed and turned for well over half the night, and you were about to visit the healers, well, the ones that weren’t occupied with Maedhros, if there were any, for some sleep inducing herbs when a knock sounded at your door.

“Are you awake?” came the voice of Aredhel. You did not bother to cover yourself before you answered. She wore a grave look on her face - one she had not worn since Elenwë had passed. Her eyes were tired and her brow was taught. Her lips were puckered slightly and set in a straight line. Her voice was quiet.

“He is calling for you.”

The screaming stopped for a moment as the words settled. Out of an old habit that had not quite died, you nearly reached for your slippers and robe. You stopped yourself and let out a sharp breath.

“Will you not come?”

Aredhel had been alienated from the sons of Fëanor, just like you had. She knew what it felt like to be separated from friends, from family, but it was unlikely that she knew the weight of her request.

You scoffed, “No.”

“Nesa, plea-”

“Tell Findekano to color his hair,” you said sarcastically, “and find a gown that flatters him. I doubt any of mine will fit. The patient is tired. He will take the ba-”

“Nesa!” Aredhel said, new vigor in her tone, “Please.”

Another scream rang out. Aredhel’s eyes glossed over and she elongated a blink. She was exasperated, however much she tried to conceal it for selflessness’ sake, and desperate. 

You sighed, “Let me get dressed.” 

You couldn’t tell if the sound of your boots against the marble floor had become significantly louder than you last remembered it or if you were subconsciously stomping your way to the halls of healing to drown out Maedhros’ cries. In his defense, he had admittedly gotten quieter; it could have been because his pain was lessening, it could have been because his throat was hoarse. Your steps weren’t deliberately quick, but the irritation that was held behind each one made it seem like you were eager to be somewhere. You stopped abruptly a few feet away from the door. You heard him let out a guttural groan before inhaling sharply.

You took a long, deep breath before opening the door. 

“Thank Eru you're here,” you heard Fingon say, “He won’t stop begging for you. It was getting worse and worse, albeit his condition has improved.” 

You grimaced. The smell of blood and desperation filled the air. Maids and aides were rushing in and out of the room, still unable to keep up with the clean water and dressing despite the improvement. How bad was it? 

Your feet, once trampling under you down the hall, now felt heavy and slow as you made your way to the chair by the bed. Your robes would have to be thrown away - you were sure whatever liquid that was in the floor and soaking into them was not clean water. It was a shame. You liked these robes - long and golden and royal blue. They made you look taller. 

His eyes had no tears in them - perhaps he’d cried himself dry - as he looked at you. His face was twisted and beads of sweat rolled down his forehead. Your eyes trailed to his neck and to his chest, where numerous smaller bandages were fastened. When your eyes fell lower, you found yourself horrified. 

His right hand was gone. 

That had been where all the blood was coming from, you concluded. You watched with widened eyes as one of the healers wrapped the bleeding nub tightly with another clean cloth. The blood, though still pouring out profusely, seemed to be letting up a bit. 

You met his eyes again. They were as blue as ever, and even Morgoth himself couldn’t douse the fire inside them, but they were glistening and frightened and desperate. They widened as he saw you again.

“No!” he shouted, “Leave me alone!”

You furrowed your eyebrows. Fingon and Aredhel both said he called for you, and for what?  So he could send you away? What a waste of your time! You took a step closer, despite his protests. 

“I told you to leave!”

You said nothing.

“But my lord,” said a healer gently, “You called for them - said it was someone that loved you.” 

He looked to the healer and made a near snarl, “Do not patronize me!” He turned to you. “You are the worst enemy I have ever had!”

Ah.

You reluctantly made your way to the chair next to the bed as the aid tried to reason with him, to no avail. He lashed out at you with his left hand. You stopped him firmly with your right. 

“Maedhros,” you said, and for a moment he looked at you and seemed a child again, unmarred and burdened not with the grief of the East, “I am not Morgoth, and you are not in Angband. You are in Hithlum. You are safe.”

 He seemed, for a moment, at comfort, and though his turmoil did not leave him, he despaired no longer.

You sat with him in silence for a long while, but it was not a comfortable silence. He tried to make conversation with you, perhaps to distract himself, or perhaps because in his delirious state, he thought you wanted to be there.

You suppressed a scoff. To watch him bleed? After all he’d done to you, though, maybe he thought you’d like it. 

Time dragged on. For a while, the healers insisted you stay until he was asleep. As the night grew older and your thoughts wandered to memory, you found yourself staying not at the healers’ request, but at your own free will.

Maedhros had done terrible things, yes - though he wasn’t as active as his father in Alqualonde and he didn’t burn the ships, he had pledged himself to you. He had made a promise under pain and longsuffering - one that he had broken. But how much pain, and how much longsuffering before he was vindicated? Before his transgressions annulled? Were they reconciled when he was taken, or when his hand came off? You couldn’t help but pity him.

It was a pain you knew too well. 

Crossing the Helcaraxe had been hard on everyone, and losing your left hand didn’t make it any easier. Losing it was painful and healing hurt more, but nothing was as detrimental as what came next. At first, you had been the ‘funny aunt’ to Idril who could use puppets on her arm, and a beacon of hope and a picture of determination to a young Aredhel, but as time went on, you found themselves looking at you with poorly hidden pity, eyes clouded over like storm clouds amongst stars at a masquerade ball. 

But it was not pity that Maedhros really needed - no. It was redemption. 

His disregard for those he claimed to love was prominent, proved at his departure and highlighted by his actions. But his father had gone mad and his grandfather was killed. He was in a tight spot. Was he truly evil at heart? It seemed cruel to expect him to compromise, what with part of him already compromised. But how else was he to be redeemed? Was he to fast? Or to cut off his hair like Fingon had his hand?  Was he to kneel on your doorstep for one hundred days, begging for vindication? For your forgiveness?

You could give him that - forgiveness. It was far-fetched, or so you thought, to bargain for unearned forgiveness when he had a bucketload of consequences that were to come with his actions - a lack of your love and tender care that he once had being one of them.

Your mother would chide you. Forgiveness was to be given freely. Only Mandos himself and only by leave of Mawë could mercilessness be wrought, and whether or not a person was deserving of it was not for any of the Eldar to decide, not even the greatest. It was something you struggled with as a child - after all, anyone could hurt you, but that didn’t matter as long as they couldn’t hold a grudge to rival your own, right?

Maedhros stirred. You let go of his hand - when had you reached for it? - as if it burned and stood abruptly. Dawn was upon you. His body was broken. You knew the emotional turmoil he would soon undergo, and you doubted he would make it. He could reckon his fortune for forgiveness with the Decider himself. 

______________________________________________________________________________

You slept throughout the next day, though no rest came to you. Memories and subtle convictions plagued your mind. At last, late in the afternoon, you decided to have a bite to eat and get some fresh air. 

Thirty pairs of eyes followed your form, breaths held and shoulders tense as you made your way to the kitchens of Hithlum. You had not toyed with the prospect of being bombarded with questions about the state of the Noldorin prince, but, you supposed, it was for the better. You knew little about his condition as of today, and you wished you knew less than you did. 

Despite the beauty of the day, a cloud of tension stalked Hithlum eerily. The gardens were almost too quiet. If you hadn’t any fear of being caught, you would have talked to the spotted swan orchids potted near the bench. 

You sat in silence for a moment and rued leaving your room, beginning to doze off after you had decided to rouse and go about. You jumped when the bench shifted underneath you.

“I don’t suppose you're the worst enemy I’ve ever had.”

You sighed and looked down at the bowl in your hands, elbows resting on your knees. “That isn’t what you said last night,” you said, “Or all those years ago, for that matter.”

Maedhros fell silent for a moment. “I know.”

It seemed as if the both of you had a bubble around one another, and the proximity forced them to squish and mold against one another. It was only a matter of time before one of them would pop, leaving you vulnerable and Maedhros even more so.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long, awkward while.

You said nothing.

“Melda, please-”

“Do not call me that.”

He let out a broken sigh and hid his face away from you. Not that you were looking. His mouth contorted into a grimace, and tears pricked his eyes.

“Woe is me!” He said suddenly and quietly, but his voice grew louder, “Woe is me! And woe is the day I left you on those white shores! Now I am at a loss - of a love and of a limb. My departure was the greatest of my misdeeds. I shall rue it, and of all my fell deeds, leaving you behind shall be accounted as the worst.”

You couldn’t help but feel a little smug at his admittance. 

“I see that hanging by your wrist for thirty years has not quipped that tongue of yours.”

“No,” he replied, “And I fear nothing ever shall. But for the will of my tongue, I’d have all that I have ever wanted by now - all that I have wished for while hanging from that precipice. How now shall I go on?”

“Do not be a fool,” you said, rather harshly, but years of biting winds and boots filled with snow will make a person harsh, “What is done is done. There is no use lamenting what once was, for by lament alone it shall not come again to be.”

“If you would hear my lament,” he said, “Then maybe you would forgive me.”

You straightened your posture. “You have not asked my forgiveness - and do not do so yet! You have a great deal to learn before you can be reconciled, if I see fit.”

He raised his eyebrows, “If you see fit? I beg your pardon, but was I false to hope that you might hear my plea? Did you lose your mercy and compassion on your journey?”

“I lost many things.”

Maedhros squared his shoulders towards you. His eyes trailed down your frame, and then widened. His breath hitched, and a tense silence befell you both.

“I am sorry,” he said after a while. His voice was timid and shy. Even in begging your forgiveness, the Fearnorian pride that tainted his blood did not cower; his words were ever confident, ever secure in their purpose. Upon looking at your left arm, which his right now mimicked, his boldness left him.

“Hush. You are bold to ask forgiveness of your misdeeds towards me, but you did not cut off my hand.”

He said nothing. For a moment. Your posture straightened. His, though you were now vulnerable to him, slouched. 

“Then forgiveness I do not ask of you,” Maedhros said, “only one thing, if your kindness would go so far: council. I do not know what to do next - how I am to relearn all that I have known.”

“It is a long process, even for the greatest of the Eldar - even for one filled with the light of Valinor,” you replied, “It will end, but it feels like it never will.”

“What does it feel like?”

White shores flashed across your eyes. You could feel your mother’s disappointed gaze burning into your back. Green lights came into your peripheral, and for a moment you could feel Turgon’s embrace and Idril’s excited shivering. Your mouth twitched into a fleeting smile. Then there was a crack, and a splash, and a woman’s scream and a man’s desperate pleas to the gods - whichever ones were listening, Manwë or Ulmo or Melkor himself. You gripped the bench with your right hands. Your heart beat increased and a weight fell upon your arm like heavy stones. A thousand tiny needles pricked your skin. You began to feel stiff and lifeless. This time, there were no harp-calloused hands hauling you to the dry, and the weight on your wrist only got heavier. Your eyes flew open.

“Cold,” you said quietly, and shuddered, “As if the chill was drawn from all the waters and the ground and the winds of Eä and even the cold of the souls of the wicked, and then sewn onto my bones.”

You slowly reached with your right hand towards what used to be your left.

“And sometimes, I feel stiff - like my hand has been covered in tar and I cannot move it,” you continued, “And sometimes, there is nothing.” 

Maedhros did not dare meet your eyes.

“They will look at you with such pity that maybe their gazes will regrow it, but they will not. Until they know your power, your will, your resolve, until deep down they fear you, they will whisper to one another how unfortunate you are to have suffered such a loss. Your arm will heal, but until you have surpassed resolution and have become fortitude incarnate, you will not again be well.” 

Maedhros didn’t respond at first. He sat for a good long while, unsure of whether you were talking about your hand or something entirely different. Your gaze was directed towards the morning glories climbing up the Western stairs, but your eyes were somewhere far off from the gardens of Hithlum. 

“How do you bear it, then,” he said, “Until it does heal?”

“There isn’t anything for it,” you replied, “Except to bear it. In Valinor, maybe, you would heal in time tenfold. Though, from what I heard, providence in Valinor is not an option.”

“No, it is not. But I have told you already, it is my greatest regret. And you have said it yourself: what is done is done.” His eyes were filled with determination, but void of all hope. 

The sun began to set, and the two of you sat together late into the night. Memories floated about your mind of your life before your departure - before his departure, and sooner or later your mind drifted to your memories with him. Some were good memories, but most were not. His departure - his oath - replayed over and over in your mind. 

“Why did you do it?” you said, “Why did you leave?”

He was quiet for a moment, and you couldn’t tell if he was hesitant or thoughtful.

“I would have left all the same, I suppose,” he said, finally, “or been forced out, anyways. A man will be worthy of his father’s name or be tainted by it  - after the attack at Alqualonde, I do not know which would have been worse.”

You seemed unsatisfied with his answer, but what he told you was the truth - and he knew of nothing else that would satisfy you, not even a lie. 

“I would have loved you all the same,” you said.

He let out a sharp breath, “Would you have?”

You cast your gaze down. “I have endured bitter cold and hardships across the Grinding Ice. What is time to the Eldar? But it is my greatest loss. I loved you even then.”

He stood, abruptly, and knelt in front of you, clasping your right hand with his left. “You knew what I had done then. Can you not love me now?”

You retracted your hand, “You think too highly of yourself. My love for you is trapped under the ice; miles now lie between memories.”

“You held it in your left hand, then,” he reached again for you and found your wrist. “I have given my right in atonement. Is that not enough? Shall I give my left? I gladly will.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you said, “By your right hand you were fell and your deeds were wicked, but by your left you may yet be forgiven. Convince me.”

“What will it take?”

“What will you give?”

“I have told you already,” said Maedhros, “if that is not enough, then I will give you everything.”

You searched his blue eyes for a lie or a fault, but you found none. Your resolve nearly broke when his eyes roamed across your face, searching desperately for your reaction. Would it break him - for you to tell him to get lost? No. He had endured so much, and he did not break you when he was separated from you the first time. You imagined vividly enough to make yourself believe that he would break, and soon had yourself convinced that it was mercy that led you to give him his chance.

“Sit up. Hold me for a while like you did long ago,” you said, “Let me think, and perhaps my terms will not be too great.”

It was not mercy. Forgiveness was difficult, even more so if one’s wounds had gone untreated for too long; but perhaps it would come a little easier if you found solace from your afflictions in the careful embrace of your guilt-ridden afflicter. Your heart stopped at his touch, and though you knew it wasn’t forgiveness, something welled up in your heart that made you wish that things were not as they were, or at the very least, that they could go back to the way things had been.

“As you wish.”

[mfporky]

I feel like people forget just how many Nintendo IPs got proper revives on the Switch, so I made a big fat thread about some

The biggest one in my eyes, a series that holds strong importance to me, is Pikmin. After getting a pretty damn good game on the Wii U back in 2013 the series was propelled into a limbo-like state with Pikmin 4 being "On My Way!" for a decade straight. Mainline wise, nothing, we don't talk about Hey Pikmin. Absolute crickets for awhile and then almost overnight it became THE system for Pikmin games. Pikmin 3 Deluxe, which is way more than just a port, with a bucket full of new content and an alternative campaign, released October 30th 2020. Back to crickets for a few years until all of a sudden, Pikmin 4 and ports of Pikmin 1 and 2 released on the same day of July 21st 2023. All incredible games in their own right, the supreme ports of all, insanely proud Nintendo treats their small fish franchise with such delicate care; if you're using this list as a game suggestions list, check out Pikmin you will NOT regret it.

Famicom Detective Club, which was one damned to eternal obscure Nintendo fanatic knowledge hell, has arose from its grave and is unironically making strong waves. The last original game being made in 1989 and then having "Super Famicom Satellaview Remasters" in the mid 90s, which are damn hard to find proper info on. Other than that, tombstone. Only real thing of note being that it was the first project Yoshio Sakamoto sunk his pen into, other than that it was doomed to niche oddity and a footnote in gaming history. The Switch changed all that, with remakes of the first two games being bundled together and released May 14th 2021. That's not all, a brand new game in the series, "Emio - The Smiling Man", is currently set to release August 29th 2024 as of writing

F-Zero, technically got a new game! It's pennies compared to everyone else's quarters and dollars, but after a 20+ year hiatus its worth a mention. With the last game in the series, ironically called F-Zero Climax, released on the GBA there were crickets after that. Gone but not forgotten, it got the occasional rerelease onto the latest system's virtual console, and it still had a spot in Smash Brothers. Granted if you were me growing up you'd figure that Captain Falcon was just some wack original character, but shit the representation matters. It was like that until September 14th, 2023, when a brand new game in the series with online got announced and released later in a Nintendo direct! Sure it was just a battle royale game, another drop in the bucket with the 99 subtitle, but it counts for this list.

Metroid, the series infamous for its dry spells, has been an oasis of new content recently. The last chronological game in the 2D Metroid series was Fusion, released in 2002, with the Metroid Prime game getting its third installment in 2007. In terms of original games, that was it. There was a remake of Metroid 1 on the GBA, and a remake of Metroid 2 on the 3DS, and there were spinoffs here and there (Metroid Prime Pinball is my GOAT baby); other than that, nothing. That is until the Switch came along, with Metroid Prime 4 being announced within the same year of the Switch's release. It took literally 7 years to get more info about Prime 4 but its with confidence to say that the game is coming out, sometime in 2025. 2D Metroid, long dormant and stagnant and almost two decades without a game got a surprise announcement in a Nintendo Direct; the highly anticipated and teased Metroid Dread, long thought to be a cancelled DS game but emerging in the flesh brazen as ever. Released October 8th, 2021, Metroid is officially back after what felt like centuries of wait.

2D Mario has been stuck in a rut of unoriginality for a decade and a half now. Since the release of New Super Mario Bros for the DS in May 2006, 2D Mario was stuck in a loop of distilling the same damn game over and over, with it getting stripped more and more of what once was in such a short time. It hit a boiling point in November 2012, with the release of "New Super Mario Bros U", the second New Super game to release that year. After that, nothing. People were sick of what felt like the same damn game, sure they were passable but it felt emblematic of everything 2D Mario shouldn't be. Then, almost like an angel from the heavens, came Super Mario Bros Wonder; the antithesis of New Super, it had original concepts in boatloads and felt like a proper evolution of 2D Mario. New concepts in spades, so much extra content, brilliant new artstyle in a new kingdom. It feels like going from store bought freezer pancakes from Walmart to a French chef from a 5 michelien star restaurant making you your breakfast.

The Mario & Luigi series, although a cult classic series, never quite got the mainstream attention it deserved. Even with classics like Bowser's Inside Story, Dream Team, Superstar Saga, the financial backing from the public and internal was just never quite there. After Dream Team (sleeper hit, if you're interested check it out!), it was the beginning of the end with the release of Paper Jam. Reused assets, real basic baby story, padding aplenty, dialogue that hits the senses like pulling teeth (fuckin leave Luigi alone), there's no way this was anything other than a cash grab. A collaboration with Paper Mario too, another cult classic series, it was insulting to both Paper Mario fans and M&L fans. After that, no new original games. Alphadream pumped out two remakes, which are pretty alright, and them they went bankrupt. God bless Alphadream, but the writing was on the wall when they kept making 3DS games long after the Switch came out. It was a dark time, felt clear as light that the M&L series will remain to be past tense and just a footnote in the large conglomerate that is Mario now. Until recently, with the announcement of Brothership; a new spanking game in the M&L series releasing in November of this year.

Genuine generational run Nintendo is going on right now. List could've droned on for easily triple the length, and I might make a sequel to this one day. Could've been even more if i talked about new Nintendo's new IPs or just how much better everything's gotten. It rules we live in this time now, especially after the dark ages of the Wii U.

[roseofdarknessblog]

At Our Own Pace (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Word count: 1 790

Disclaimer: english is not my first language, I apologize in advance for any mistakes

TW: mentions of anxiety

A/N: I wrote this one a few days back on the train when I needed to distract myself from similar thoughts. I'm super glad I got to enjoy my trip in the end, but let me tell you... anxiety is one hell of a curse, which tries to destroy literally everything. 

Summary: Traveling with Levi always seemed like a dream. Or rather until the moment your anxiety set in and wanted to ruin the trip before it even started.

At Our Own Pace

„Is there a problem?“ Levi asked in a quiet voice, his grey eyes carefully watching the expression on your face. His hand came to rest on top of yours on the little table which separated your seats. „You seem pretty anxious.“

You bit your lower lip without an answer, welcoming the warm feeling of his hand on top of yours. Something that small and ordinary could help you feel at least a bit better most of the time and almost instantly. Somehow he always knew, what exactly you needed, even before you knew it yourself.

„You know you can tell me.“

„Yeah, I know,“ you mumbled, turning your head to look out the window once again.

Long train rides were never your favorite thing. Although you loved marveling at the different kinds of views you got to see, while making your way to your destination, long train rides also gave you too much time to simply think... or better said, to overthink. Mainly, if you were headed somewhere, where you've never been before.

Like in this case. It was the beginning of the summer, and with it started your European holiday with Levi. Both of you were excited to see new and exciting places. If you had to say, Levi was probably even more excited than you. He pretty much planned the whole trip, making sure you get to see all the greatest places along the way.

„So? What's the matter?“ he tried asking you again while squeezing your hand a little tighter. The last thing he wanted was for you to feel somehow uncomfortable.

„I think I got a little lost in my thoughts, sorry,“ you finally got out, still not looking at him, and rather admiring another small town alongside the train tracks.  

„There's no need to feel anxious or overthink, you know that, right?“

You gave a small nod, turning your hand palm up so you could hold hands with him. That one gesture was enough for Levi to be sure, that you probably felt even more on the edge than he could guess from your expression or overall behavior. Because Levi noticed everything about you. Every tiny little detail. The two of you were in a relationship for almost a decade, so that gave him more than enough time to get to know your every movement and its true meaning.

„I took care of everything. You'll like our hotel I'm sure. It's in one of those historical buildings you like so much.“

„Those always look so much more appealing than some modern construction from glass. And they're way more photogenic as well.“

Levi gave you a subtle smile. „Yeah, that's true. I guess you can live out your dark academia aesthetic dream to the fullest these next two weeks. Europe is full of beautiful historical places.“

„I'll be taking a lot of photos for sure. Because if I don't do it, we'll have exactly zero memories to look back on from this entire trip,“ you teased him, squeezing his hand lovingly. Levi was never the type to take a bunch of photos. Or even any photos at all. So making these kinds of memories was always your obligation – on every single trip or vacation, the two of you took over the years.

„I prefer to live in the moment, not through a phone or a camera.“

You rolled your eyes at him, resting your back a little more comfortably. There were still almost three hours left from your journey, which already lasted another good three hours. And while Levi tried to occupy himself with one of the books he brought along, all you could do was look out the window and overthink. After a short, while it became pretty uncomfortable to sit – you didn't know how to relax, where to put your legs, or what to do with your hands. All of a sudden, you felt so out of place, that it was agonizing to stay seated and pretend, that everything is okay.

„I guess...“ you started, taking a deep breath before continuing. „I guess I feel like this because I don't know what to expect from that place. I'm afraid I won't be able to enjoy it there because everything will seem too overwhelming. And you know how I get when we have to shuffle through large crowds, noisy places and so.“

Levi nodded, his other hand gently resting on your forearm. As if he wanted to physically ground you at that moment and stop you from floating away with all of the thoughts that kept racing through your mind.

You fidgeted uncomfortably in your seat. „Don't get me wrong, I'm excited. But...“

„I understand,“ he said, seeing you struggle with finding the right words. „I want both of us to have a good time, not to worry, and just suffer through each day. So I'll try to always make sure you feel comfortable and safe. If you don't want to go somewhere because of a large crowd or anything similar, you simply tell me and we'll do something other instead. Just like always. You know I never get mad for something like this.“

„But you put so much effort into planning everything out. I just... I don't want to be the reason why we miss something interesting or something you really wanted to see or do.“

When his grip on your forearm tightened, you knew he could truly feel your rising discomfort. At that moment, you wished you had seats next to each other and not opposite, so you could just lean against him and rest your head on his shoulder for a second.

You always worried a pretty big deal about ruining every single trip. Not so much for yourself, but for Levi or your family, when you were younger. You never wanted to be the reason somebody didn't enjoy themselves or didn't get to do everything they wanted. But worrying just made everything so much worse. It made you so exhausted and on the edge, that even trying to relax and truly enjoy the experience of traveling and discovering new places became more like... more like a burden than a pleasure.

„Y/N,“ Levi addressed you firmly, bringing you back to reality once more.

„Sorry, I... sorry...“ you said a little ashamed and looked away from his face once more.

„Look at me.“ He waited until you did so, his eyes looking at you with concern. „I'm here and I'm not leaving you. We'll be together all the time, so there is no need to worry. I'll be there to hold your hand and keep you calm when you'll need it.“

„Great, so you'll be always watching me and not enjoying the trip you were so excited about,“ you mumbled and were about to look away once more when Levi let go of your arm and gently grabbed your chin to prevent you from doing so. „I hate doing this, I really do. But...“

„I know.“

„No, you don't because...“

„I know,“ he said once more, not letting you finish what you wanted to say. He already knew, that it wasn't anything logical. Just your anxiety trying to make everything even worse. „We’ve gone together to many places over the years. And I never once had a bad experience because of you. Quite the opposite. I was finally able to enjoy myself and relax because you were with me. Because I got the chance to share all those amazing moments with you.“ His thumb gently caressed your chin, while he was still making sure you stay looking at him. „I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.“

Levi never complained about anything, that regarded your needs. He let you explain what you were feeling and what you needed. And then he just tried his best. Levi always put your safety and comfort above his own. Even if he wasn’t feeling his best, he made sure you were as okay as possible.

„We’ll be fine, I’m sure. You love traveling, exploring, and making memories,“ Levi reminded you in a gentle tone and slowly let go of your chin. The tiny smile, which settled on his lips, was enough for you to not want to avert your gaze. He knew, that when he wanted to keep your attention on him, all he had to do, was smile. Even just a little bit.

„I’m really thankful you did all the planning and everything. After all, you always do a great job with choosing the hotels or the best way to get there, with managing our daily activities and such.“

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, before drawing little circles into your palm, to keep you focused only on his presence. „I would go crazy if I wasn’t in control of everything you named.“ His smirk let you know, that he meant it well. This was simply how Levi was.

It took Levi many similar attempts until he truly managed to calm you down. He didn’t get the chance to read his book, but that didn’t bother him at all. What mattered the most, was your seemingly calmer mood, when the train finally came to its final stop and both of you stepped onto the platform. While Levi took care of your luggage, you felt more relaxed and at peace.

All you had to do, was keep reminding yourself, that everything was okay. This was the time for relaxing and enjoying life. Not for worrying.

The saddest part about every vacation was, that anxiety always accompanied you. It never stayed home, rather followed you around the world and kept peeking over your shoulder. Kept ruining some of the most beautiful moments Levi planned for the both of you. And that always hurt the most, because he tried his best and put so much energy into every single detail.

„Let’s ignore everyone, hm? And pretend, that this city is only ours,“ Levi said from behind your back before his hand found yours for a little while. He knew you liked to wait, until other people left the platform, so you can avoid the crowd. And after all, there was nowhere to hurry. You had plenty of time for absolutely everything. „I’ll only have eyes for you and all the stunning places we’re going to see, and you do the same. We’ll enjoy this place at our own pace. Just like always.“ When his hand squeezed yours a little tighter, you smiled and squeezed his hand back.

He was right.

There was no need for you to focus on other people or the things your anxiety wanted you to believe and overthink. Your only job was to stay with Levi, hold his hand, and let him lead the way. And even if that wasn’t easy at all, you knew that until Levi will be by your side, you can do absolutely everything. Even the scariest things, like battling your own mind over severe and little meaningless problems as well.

„Thank you for doing this, Levi. For planning the whole trip and everything,“ you said in a much calmer voice, which he immediately noticed.

With a tiny smirk, he leaned closer and kissed your forehead. Even if he wasn’t the biggest fan of showing affection in public, there were moments like this one. When he knew you would really appreciate and benefit from a little something like a kiss or a hug.

„I can’t wait to kiss you on every single location I want to show you,“ he whispered in a loving tone, making you smile wholeheartedly.

You doubted there ever would be enough words to describe just how much you loved and appreciated Levi Ackerman being a part of your life – a man you got the chance to love and with who you wanted to spend all eternity.

[skzhocomments]

THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Chapter 7 - SKZ, you're next

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

Let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist for this story or on the general taglist!

---

Chapter 7 - SKZ, you're next

chapter word count: 2.6k words

~1 year and 2 months before Present Day~

~Emilia's POV~

"Shade, right, right! Go right! Right, okay?"

"Heard you the first time, Dark."

"What a strange duo you two are." Laughed Seungmin through the earpiece.

"Yea, Dark and Shade, both equally idiots it seems." Spat Minho.

"Shut up, kitty." I spat back.

"Who the fuck do you think you're calling kitty?!"

"Anyways, you're almost there." our bickering was interrupted by Seungmin.

I've already been with Stray Kids for four months now, when Chan considered that we should strengthen our teamwork to integrate me more in the team. So, his master plan was to send me, Changbin, Minho and Seungmin on the most boring mission ever. Infiltrate in a house and steal a few unimportant documents, just for the sake of doing so.

"We don't want anything dangerous to happen to any of you" he said and picked this random house in the middle of nowhere that belongs (or used to belong?) to some enemy gang I haven't heard of before.

Of course, me and Chan also had our... private teammate sessions, but they involved more mating and less teamwork. We were sleeping together almost every night – some nights involving sex, others just enjoying each other's company and learning things about who we truly were when no one was watching.

I started trusting Chan with all my being. Four months might not seem like much to some, but he knew more about me than anyone else.

~

"This place looks like shit" Changbin spat.

"Didn't take you much for a complainer." I joked around, painfully aware that Changbin is (and probably has always been) a complainer.

"Yea Binnie, just do the mission and shut the fuck up." We both heard Minho whine in the earpiece.

"Kitty, are you always so involved when you're on the other side of the mic?"

"I swear to God if you call me kitty one more time I-"

"Oops, you're breaking up."

"Shade I will fucking rip you hair off."

"And I'll get you some kitty treats if you act nice."

"Fucking-"

"Okay, okay, we got it." Sky interrupted us. "So, how's the house looking?"

"Horrible. And it smells" Changbin put an emphasis on the last word.

He was right, though. There weren't even any guards and the house seemed abandoned. The walls inside were full of dust, there were dirty pots on the floor's kitchen and trash everywhere else, and the smell. God, the smell was rancid. It was simply filthy, and it didn't seem like anyone has been here in the past decade or so. Maybe Google "crackhouse" and you'd get a hint.

If Chan wouldn't have insisted to treat it as an actual mission and go in sneakingly, we could've literally walked through the front door without anything or anyone to stop us.

So that's where we're currently at.

"Ok guys-"

"And girls, asshole" I spat.

"... I will pretend I didn't hear that, Shade."

"Ignorance is bliss, Sky." I rolled my eyes, even though I knew he wouldn't be able to see me. However, Changbin did and let a chuckle escape.

I smiled back at him. Maybe we could get along after all?

"So- as I was saying before someone interrupted me, you should reach the section of the map we talked about. It should have two rooms, one in the front and one in the back. We don't know where the safe is, so just figure it out together."

"You prefer front or back?" Changbin asked.

"My, my, Dark, what a naughty question!" I chuckled and jokingly touched his biceps.

And I swear I felt a shiver from him and saw a small shake of his head.

"Ok, go to the front one and I'll get the back." He continued, ignoring my teasing.

I went into the dark corridor towards the door in front of me and pulled out my gun. I should treat this like a normal mission after all, right?

As soon as I opened the door, the stench was even worse, almost unbearable, and it made me gag and feel like throwing up.

I identified the cause quickly: in the middle of the room, a dead body of what used to be a woman was lying dead on the ground between all that clutter and trash. She was in a decomposing state and judging by the bloating she died about 3-5 days ago.

"Found the safe!" Changbin's victorious scream could be heard through the earpiece. "Shade, come give me a hand in opening this up!"

I was sick to my stomach but somehow couldn't take my eyes away from the woman. That's the funny thing about being in a mafia. You see a lot of dead bodies. But most of them fresh and with gun wounds or other injuries caused by yourself. You almost never get to see or smell death like this. In my experience, anyway. I was never the one to take care of dead bodies.

"Shade?" Changbin asked again, but just as I wanted to reply, something shifted next to the body.

Squinting my eyes and pointing my gun there, I was met with a pair of two bright blue eyes.

A... toddler?!

As soon as he saw me, he started bawling his eyes out.

"Shade? What was that?"

"There's a fucking toddler here, Sky!" I said hurriedly and sprinted towards the kid.

I picked him up and looked at him, speaking kind words in hopes of calming him down. It was obvious he's been pooping and peeing himself ever since his mother – or the woman on the floor – passed away; he was very dirty and smelled of... many indescribable things.

Soon, Changbin came in the room.

"Shit. Fuck. What the fuck is this?"

"I know, right?"

"Is she fucking dead?" Changbin asked, pointing to the woman on the ground and pinching his nose.

"What does it look like to you, Dark?!" I replied sarcastically.

"Guys, what's going on?" Minho asked.

"There's a fucking dead woman and a kid here!"

"The kid's alive though, he seems to be 2-3 years old I think." I interrupted Changbin.

"Wh- how long has the woman been dead?"

"A few days at most."

"Shade, how can you hold that thing in your arms? It stinks." Changbin was still pinching his nose and scrunching his face.

"He's a fucking kid, Dark. Get over yourself!"

"Guys, stop, can you identify the woman?"

"Negative. She's been beat up. Can't distinguish her face from minced meat. Must be why she died." Said Changbin after looking around for any form of identification and examining the woman.

"And the kid? How is it alive?" Sky asked.

"He..." Changbin started "I don't know..."

"Shade?"

"No idea... now that you mention it, there's also not much to show that the woman actually died here. No blood, no nothing. It's like... someone placed her here for us to find." I concluded.

"That's crazy. But it makes sense." Changbin analysed the floor and indeed, he saw no blood stains.

"Would... would Chan do something like this?" I asked, unsure. "Maybe it's part of the mission?"

"No. No way. He draws the line at children." Minho replied confidently.

The baby was now calmer, although he was still quietly sobbing. Poor thing must've been starving here.

"Wait a bit, we'll call him and ask what to do. Take some pictures of the scene in the meantime." Sky continued.

~

"Ok, just got off the phone with Chan. He said burn the house down and bring the kid with you." Minho replied, urging us to return fast.

And that's what we did.

~

"Stop being such a cry-baby!"

"You try being in the car with that stinky kid for 2 hours and we'll talk after!"

Han and Changbin were arguing after the latter complained about the mission to literally everyone that would listen.

"Yea, well, try holding it in your arms for those two hours and we will speak after." I interjected.

We were all baffled about who the woman could've been. Seungmin asked us to take samples from her body before setting the house on fire so he could try to identify her, but he said it should take a few days, so all that's left to do is wait.

"I'm guessing whoever did this assumed the kid will die anyway and didn't bother killing him." Chan started.

We were all gathered around the kitchen table. All, except for Hyo, who suddenly took on a motherly role and insisted on taking care of the kid.

I never struck myself as a potential good mother, so that, at least, was admirable. Even if Hyo's a bitch, I guess she has some good parts to her.

"Anyways, until the probe results come back, let's let this slide. How about you tell me how the mission went?" Chan started.

"Oh, me and Shade are such a great couple!" Changbin said smugly and put his arm around my waist smirking.

Chan's expression darkened for a split second. It was barely noticeable, and I doubt anyone else saw it except me. After all, we decided to keep our "relationship" (or whatever the heck we could call it) a secret from the others.

"Do you mean team?" I asked and slapped Changbin's hand away, making him giggle.

"It went fine, but I think Shade could use some training in the communication department." Replied Minho.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I answered with a tint of anger in my tone.

"Shade - calm down. What do you mean, Minho?" asked Chan.

"Don't take it personally, but you literally didn't say anything when you saw that woman's body and the child. We found out what's going on 3 minutes later, when Changbin got there and told us. That's bad. In a mission, those 3 minutes of information could be valuable. They could mean life or dead."

"Changbin? Seungmin? What do you say? Do you agree?" Chan turned his eyes to the two.

"Mhm. Minho made an excellent point. You have to work on your communication skills." Said Seungmin.

This felt really humiliating. They were hurting my ego and that felt like a punch in the gut.

Thanks god that bitch Hyo isn't here. She would've never let me live this down.

"I've been working alone these past few years, so I don't know what you want from me." I retorted with spite.

I knew they were right, but I wasn't ready to accept their criticism yet.

"Shade, they don't mean it in a bad way." Chan tried to reason with me, so I simply nodded, hoping they will drop it.

Just then, a ray of sunshine came through the door and saved the day.

Literally.

"Hey guys, sorry to interrupt, but Hyo finished washing the baby and she's noticed a weird mark on him. Can you come upstairs?" said Felix in a serious tone.

We all headed towards Hyo's room and entered. As soon as she saw me, her face contorted with anger, and she started screaming.

"NO! YOU GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

"Wish I could, but I have no desire to do so." I chuckled.

"Hyo, calm down, what's up?" asked Chan, concerned.

"She can't be here. I don't want her here. Are you fucking setting us up, bitch?!" she continued in a rage, confusing everyone.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" I snapped back.

"Shade, it might be better if you went to your room for now, ok?" Chan spoke, trying to get Hyo to calm down.

"Why do I have to leave?!"

"Please, just... don't argue with me right now and go to your room."

So that's how it's gonna be, hm? Whenever Hyo's mad, I would become the supporting role.

I didn't have to say anything, as a roll of my eyes did the trick. Disappointed in Chan, I got out of the room and went in mine, locking the door behind me.

I dropped on the bed and looked outside the window. The sky was glistening beautifully in warm tones, the sun setting slowly. I closed my eyes and breathed in deeply, relaxing my body, and drifted off to a deep slumber.

~Third person POV~

"Bang Chan, the fact that you brought this bitch here, with us, will bring our fall!" Hyo started screaming as soon as Emilia left the room.

"Hyo, please calm down. Let's talk this over calmly, okay? What happened?"

"Look at this! Just look!"

Hyo turned the screaming child on his belly. He was upset about the whole commotion, but she didn't seem to care too much about his screams. A more pressing matter was at hand, and she had to show it to everyone.

"Is this not her fucking mafia?! I'm telling you, she fucking deceived us all!" Hyo said, pointing at the baby's back.

He had bad, fresh scars that could've only been made by a hot iron that read "SKZ your next", signed by a single rose symbol.

"The Scarlet Rose. It's her fucking mafia, isn't it?!"

Chan was perplexed by this. It was indeed Emilia's old mafia signature. He got a knot in his stomach and started wondering whether what Hyo was saying could be true. Would Emilia really betray Stray Kids? Would she really betray him?

"I can't believe that baby will be marked for life with that... and it's written wrong." Said Seungmin, making everyone turn their attention to the baby again and noticing the obvious grammar mistake.

"Seungmin..."

"No, seriously. "YOUR"? Who the heck writes like that? Must've been an idiot. Is that why Shade is a bit dumb sometimes, I wonder? Runs through the mafia..." continued Seungmin sassily.

"Stop that! Can't you see the bigger picture? Shade is fucking with us!" Hyo shouted.

"We can't know that for sure." Intervened Changbin, standing up for Emilia. "She seemed as confused as everyone else on the mission."

"Yea, I agree. We don't have all the facts. We don't even know who the woman is yet. Maybe it has nothing to do with Shade whatsoever." Said Felix, making the others nod.

"Besides, how could Shade even know we were going there? You just told us last night, Chan. And the woman's been dead for what? 3-5 days?" Minho intervened as well. Even though he wasn't Shade's biggest fan, it wasn't right to have all blame on her for something like this.

"It's weird indeed. I gotta be honest, when I dropped the documents yesterday morning, I didn't check that room, so we can't be sure if the woman was there before I went there, or if someone put her there after I left. I didn't hear any baby, though..."

"What's safe to say is, she didn't die there." Changbin affirmed.

"Come on, Chan. It's obvious what happened! Her Mafia put the woman there after you left and informed us of the mission, when she freaking told them! She's pretending, y'all. How can you trust her so blindly?" Hyo rolled her eyes and started tending to the baby, calming it down.

Quiet mumbling could be heard between the other members.

"How can we know she's not setting us up?" she spoke again. "You like her, I get it." She spat. "But her whole getting-out-of-the-mafia-plan mission was to infiltrate us and kill you, Chris. How can we be so sure that she's not just playing a role right now?"

Hyo was in love with Chan. Always has been, always will be. But Chan never looked at her that way. And all of a sudden, he's brought this... disgusting bitch into the gang. Into her gang. 

If that wasn't already bad, the way he was eye-fucking her all the time was really getting under her skin. She hated her guts and wished she could just disappear. Why did everyone trust her? She was just a random girl from another mafia. She would never be part of SKZ. She was not to be trusted.

And this kid right here was all the evidence that was needed to support the theory: Emilia was surely gathering information about Stray Kids and would tear them down with the first chance she gets.

---

Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

[hawkefaery]

I just reminded myself that I literally created this blog with the solid propose of being as cringy and delusional as I wanted to so here is an expanded version of my malik x millie non canon

i am not a writer so this is not a non canon cute little fic, sadly is more like a list lmao

warning: me being delirious

I imagine them in small house or a rented floor somewhere only for the two of them. Malik would be the one who does the cooking and Millie the one who is a mess in the kitchen. However, she enjoys cooking, so now that they have time, Malik would teach her typical atlantia dishes. From time to time when they cook, Malik would share anecdotes of his adventures with Preela or when Casteel and him used to be messy younglings. Millie would listen to him quietly and let him share his stories because she knows that Malik misses both Preela and Casteel. Most days would be quiet and calm which was exactly what they needed after being alert and on the edge for decades/centuries. Some days they would just read to one another or read quietly on their own, other days would be about talking, or drawing or even playing board games. Other days would be messier because they are messy people. Malik and Millie are loud and they always seem to be joking so they would definitely tease one another, I can also picture them running, playing and being loud. Other days they would go to places like the park but they would do it at weird hours were the streets are almost empty. The point is that they would be happy and in peace. Nevertheless, it not always would be easy. They had been through a lot so even if they are relatively safe now none of them is fully relaxed all the time. For Millie it would be even harder to relax because she is not used to it. Between her and Malik, he did got to know freedom, love and happiness before he was capture, Malik was loved and respected, he had in fact a happy easy life. So there would be times where Millie’s hand would not leave her blade or where a noice would send her on full alert assassin mood, but Malik is always there to hold her hand and remind her that they are safe and that isbeth is gone. There would be nights were any of them has a nightmare or there would be times during the day when they feel paranoid of a strange sound or someone's behavior. They would never let the other face this alone but there would be hard times definitely. This time for the is for healing and to cover lose time from when they could not be together. Everything would be soft, domestic and messy but they would be happy after decades.

[spacenutspod]

While physics tells us that information can neither be created nor destroyed (if information could be created or destroyed, then the entire raison d’etre of physics, that is to predict future events or identify the causes of existing situations, would be impossible), it does not demand that the information be accessible. For decades physicists assumed that the information that fell into a black hole is still there, still existing, just locked away from view. This was fine, until the 1970’s when Stephen Hawking discovered the secret complexities of the event horizon. It turns out that these dark beasts were not as simple as we had been led to believe, and that the event horizons of  black holes are one of the few places in the entire cosmos where gravity meets quantum mechanics in a manifest way. The quest to unify quantum mechanics and gravity stretches back over a century, soon after the development of those two great domains of physics. What prevented their unification was a proliferation of infinities in the mathematics. Anytime gravity became strong at small scales, our equations diverged to infinity and gave useless non-results. But here we are at the boundaries of black holes, which by definition are places of strong gravity. And because the event horizons are mathematical constructs, not actual surfaces with finite extent, to truly understand them we must examine them microscopically, which plants them firmly in the realm of the quantum. Strong gravity at small scales. While our mathematics blow up, black holes most certainly do not. Something must marry gravity and quantum mechanics, some trick of mathematics or feat of physical insight, and whatever accomplishes the task does so here at the event horizon of every black hole in the universe. Hawking, among others, embarked on a program in the 1970’s to use black hole event horizons to poke and prod at the combined nature of gravity and quantum mechanics in extreme conditions, hoping to tease out some clue to their union. And while that program has yet to realize its full potential, Hawking did discover something utterly extraordinary about black holes, as if they weren’t extraordinary enough already. He discovered that black holes are not, strictly speaking, totally 100% black. Through a bizarre interaction of the quantum nature of reality and the formation of event horizons when black holes are born, they are capable of emitting a small amount of radiation. To be perfectly clear, the amount of radiation coming from black holes is almost zero. A typical black hole with a mass a few times that of the Sun, for example, will emit somewhere around one single photon every year. So you’re unlikely to find a glowing black hole with your backyard telescope (and since the universe is literally ablaze with radiation, black holes are for the time being consuming far more than they emit). Here’s how this radiation, now known as Hawking radiation in Stephen’s honor, throws a monkey wrench in the pristine picture of black holes painted by general relativity and the no-hair theorem. Let’s pretend that you build yourself a black hole, compressing a sufficient amount of matter into a sufficiently small volume that one appears before you. Constructing that black hole consumed an enormous amount of information about all the particles that once enjoyed freedom, and all that information is now safely tucked away behind the event horizon. You then isolate a black hole away from any source of growth: no matter, no radiation, no energy for it to feast upon. The black hole duly emits Hawking radiation, spitting out one photon at a time. With every emission, the black hole loses a little bit of mass (after all, there’s no such thing as a free lunch, and somebody has to foot the energetic bill for this newfound radiation in the cosmos). Eventually, if you wait long enough, the black hole will evaporate completely, disappearing in a poof of energetic emission. One problem. That Hawking radiation is…featureless. In physics jargon we say that the emission is thermal, which is another way of saying that it contains no unique information. You can sit in front of your homemade black hole and register the energies and momenta of every single emitted particle of Hawking radiation until it collapses in on itself in 10100 years and you will learn absolutely nothing  other than the dumb fact that the black hole is, indeed, evaporating at a particular temperature. Here is the black hole information paradox, a paradox that has bedeviled theoretical physics for over half a century, a paradox whose resolution lays in the unknown lands of quantum gravity, a resolution that promises to give rise to a new understanding of physics: information goes into a black hole. No information comes out. Hawking radiation evaporates the black hole. The black hole goes away. Information cannot be destroyed…so where did all the information go? There must be a flaw in Hawking’s reasoning, because the universe does not stand paradoxes. Political revolutions come about when two opposing groups cannot reach a compromise: a paradox of interests and goals. Scientific revolutions come about when two opposing facts cannot find a common thread: a paradox of reasoning and deduction. I will be blunt with you. At the time of this writing, we have no confirmed, agreed-upon, tested, reliable solution to the black hole information paradox. But we do have a series of intriguing clues, mathematical breadcrumbs that seem to be leading us somewhere, and the suggestive glint of something more just over the horizon. The post The Origins of the Black Hole Information Paradox appeared first on Universe Today.

[blast0rama]

Daft Punk – “Prime (2012 Unfinished)”

Last night at Midnight, many excited fans finally got a hold of something they’ve wanted for a very long time.

I, of course, am talking about The Legend of Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, the long-awaited sequel to Breath of the Wild, the beloved Switch installment of the long running franchise. That said, I couldn’t join them last night1.

Instead, I found myself hitting play on another long-awaited release, last night’s drop of the 10th Anniversary edition of Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories.

Besides being gobsmacked that it’s been 10 years since the release of what would — unbeknownst to us — become Daft Punk’s last album, I immediately wanted to jump into the second “disc”2, filled with different odds-and-ends from the album’s sessions.

When Random Access Memories dropped a decade ago, the response was mixed, to say the least. Daft Punk was coming off of the stunning career one-two punch of their score to Tron: Legacy, an amazing step-up in profile and difficulty for the French dance music duo, and their Alive: 2007 tour and album, an amazing, enthralling mix of literally their entire career to this point. A mashup of literally all their work to this point, Alive: 2007 served as a celebration of their success, recontextualizing songs from Homework, Discovery and Human After All into one massive celebration of music, grooves and a career well spent. They dug deep into the music they made and generated a new appreciation of it all.

When the massive marketing campaign for Random Access Memories hit, people were expecting something the next Discovery, but instead, they got something quirkier. Sure, Daft Punk received the greatest charting single of their career in “Get Lucky”, but after decades of sample fueled dance hits, the masked robots of Thomas and Guy-Man chose to look back to the records that made them, and put together a true 70’s disco record. In the 2010s.

This was extremely polarizing. Though the appreciation of the record has grown over the years, the hardcore Daft Punk fan base didn’t know what to do with the album placed before them.

And that’s part of what I found so intriguing with this 10 year release. Sure, you’d be getting the expected international release B-Sides (“Horizon”), but you’d also be getting a look at the duo’s creative process, with a number of demos and unspoken of lost tracks. Even the bitter-sweet alternate version of “Touch” which soundtracked their 2021 farewell video.

But there was one track that piqued my interest.

“Prime (2012 Unfinished).”

I’d heard “Horizon” previously, and knew there was a lost Julian Casablancas song (“Infinity Repeating”), but what was this?

In turn, at about midnight last night, that was the first track I hit play on.

I played it once. I played it twice. I played it three times.

Turns out, for a fan of Daft Punk, this track is almost like a Rosetta Stone.

It’s the inflection point from the Tron: Legacy score into the Random Access Memories-era.

The groove is there, but so are the real instruments. The strings, the hypnotic vibes, you lose yourself in it. And yet, you’re teased by what could’ve been. It says it in the title — 2012 Unfinished — this was a song they weren’t able to figure out. It’s a puzzle minus a key piece.

Yet, at the same time, it’s incredible. It’s funny how a creative never sees the full positives of their work. They see the poorly drawn lines, the grammatical errors, the hook that didn’t hit the heights they wanted. “Prime”, even in this form, snakes its way into your brain, and won’t let you go.

I was immediately reminded of another of my favorite musical acts, The Appleseed Cast, who in 2012 as a creative project, opened the doors to their demos in process. Those have been long since archived, but one track lived on on a compilation album. The song later became “North Star Ordination” on Illumination Ritual, but in hearing the demo, found here, there’s a similarity to “Prime”. It’s a work trying to find itself. All the pieces may not be there, but you’re enthralled. And you wonder what could be.

It’s been two years since Daft Punk called it quits. One half of the duo, Thomas Bangalter, did press recently surrounding his original ballet(!), speaking to the BBC.

In it he said, about their robot-era:

As much as I love this character, the last thing I would want to be, in the world we live in, in 2023, is a robot.

Is it any wonder then, that today, 10 years after the release of Random Access Memories, with “Prime”, we’re getting a look at Daft Punk at their most human. Creating something real and true, and wondering what could have been.

Random Access Memories (10th Anniversary Edition is streaming now.

I promised my wife, who is out of town, that I’d wait until she got back to start the game. She likes watching me play through different games. It’s like real-life Twitch, I guess?

Weird to call it that, given, you know, streaming.

[ladyartemesia]

All I Want For Christmas is You

Pairing: Kim Taehyung x Female Reader

Summary: When Park Jimin is unable to escort his precious sister through the gauntlet of corporate holiday galas, he blackmails his best friend Taehyung into being her chaperone. After all, who better to safeguard his headstrong sibling than a man who would never want her for himself? (She and Tae have spent the better part of a decade mutually disliking each other, and that’s putting it mildly.) Yet, even the best laid plans may go awry at Christmas and Kim Taehyung is about to discover that the girl he never wanted has become a temptation he cannot resist...

Genre: Comedy • Fluff  • Smut

Tropes: Brother’s Best Friend (Reader is Jimin’s Sister) • Enemies-to-Lovers

Collab: This work is part of the Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tropes Collab featuring original holiday themed works by @ppersonna • @xjoonchildx  • @underthejoon • @yeojaa​ • @untaemedqueen • and @snackhobi

Word Count: 17K (I know—I am shocked too honestly)

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: suggestive photographs • mention of accidentally being hit with a baseball • hints of jealousy and possessiveness • light tit slapping • explicit sexual content • m/f oral sex • consensual unprotected sex (shield it before you yield it y’all) • Viola’s mirror kink makes yet another appearance •

Acknowledgements:

To @ppersonna​ (Lindy) @underthejoon​ (Fal) and @xjoonchildx​ (Ana) you guys are my heart. Your support, willingness to read (and re-read) and give honest feedback made this fic special. Your friendship is my daily dose of awesome. Truly, I love you.

To @untaemedqueen​ (D) all of the above applies to you, but I owe you a little something extra for the LITERAL HOURS you spent in the doc with me. This fic would not be here without you. You kept me moving. You inspired me. You were amazing. Thank you so very much. This story is lovingly dedicated to you. 

To @hobi-gif​ for being the most thorough and incredible beta reader and for having all the important girl chats with me. I think you learned more about my past than you wanted... Either way you made this story better and I am profoundly grateful for the hours of time you spent. I have removed all the Hope-No-No words in your honor. 

To @lemonjoonah​ as always, you knew EXACTLY what I needed to tweak to make this story work. (Gotta pass that Lemon Litmus Test or no dice lol.) My lovely soul twin. You’re a bloomin’ rockstar. 

Please Picture This Taehyung:

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“Yes. Because you absolutely owe me.”

“Then send me a bill, not your unmanageable harpy of a sister.”

Jimin raised a single unimpressed brow. 

“Kim Taehyung. It was exactly five years ago today that I carried your drunken naked ass two miles in the rain after you set your clothes on fire and sprained your ankle at that Beta Phi party.” He paused dramatically. “Do you remember what you said to me that night? After I deleted several pictures off phones and paid off half the party to keep it out of the papers?”

The man in question shifted uncomfortably.

“That incident is a bit hazy in my memory. I’m not sure I recall—”

“Jiminie—you’re the best and I—I owe… you. I owe you the most, Jiminie. I do—I owe you a favor—one BIG favor—anything you ask… Even though... I actually like being naked. I don’t think we need clothes. We should all be naked. Everyone. Then there would be world peace.”

Taehyung’s jaw dropped. 

“You RECORDED IT?!”

Jimin grinned, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

“Naturally. And I had it all ready to go—just in case you needed extra convincing.” He crossed his arms and fixed his best friend of nearly fifteen years with a triumphant smirk. “I’m calling in that favor today, Taehyung. Now are you a man of your word or not?”

“He did WHAT?!”

Your mother winced. 

“Jimin was... uncomfortable leaving you alone for the holiday season. He normally accompanies you to the galas but this year—”

“This year I was going to go alone and finally build my reputation as an asset to this family!”

Park Soomin sighed as she watched her daughter pace fiercely around the living room of their luxury suite. 

“No one doubts that you’re an asset, but… in light of recent events...”

Rage and embarrassment flared up in your chest before you could stop them. 

“This is about Milo… isn’t it?”

The silence that greeted your statement was confirmation enough. 

“Are you ever going to trust me again?” you whispered. 

“Oh sweetheart... it isn’t you we don’t trust...”

Tears burned at the corner of your eyes, but you ruthlessly blinked them back. 

You would play along with their humiliating schemes. 

For now.

“So which one of Jimin’s Ivy League brat pack did he blackmail into babysitting me? 

For the first time in the entirety of the conversation, your mother looked truly nervous. 

“Kim Taehyung.”

You tripped over your own feet and face-planted into the sofa. 

“Jungkook, I need to look into faking my own death. Nothing too over the top. Just a tasteful disappearance—”

The man in question could barely restrain his grin. 

“You don’t pay me nearly enough to deal with your mother in the event of your tragic demise and miraculous resurrection.”

“I could pay you more.”

“Or,” Jungkook replied with a heavy dose of judgment coloring his tone, “you could put on this ridiculous tie and stop trying to weasel out of it.”

“Sometimes I wonder why I pay you at all,” Taehyung growled, yanking the tie from the younger man’s grasp. “Clearly I’m not the one in charge.”

“Your words, sir, not mine. Now shall we go over the details and itinerary?”

If Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the best executive aide in the city (and one of his closest friends) Tae would have drop-kicked him right then and there.

“Could you at least try to look like you’re not enjoying this?”

“I’m sorry, sir. It was insensitive of me to ignore your suffering in this delicate time. The trauma of escorting a beautiful woman to a series of glorified buffets weighs heavily upon you.”

Taehyung tightened the tie so aggressively, he almost strangled himself.

“Beautiful woman?!” he wheezed. “We’re talking about the girl who showed up to our formal graduation party looking like she just escaped from Azkaban.”

Jungkook bit the inside of his cheek thoughtfully. 

“Tae… how long has it been since you’ve actually seen Ms. Park?” 

“Seen? Maybe three—four years.”

The heir-apparent of Kim Holdings avoided the public end of corporate culture like the plague, preferring to leave the requisite schmoozing to his personable cousin, Kim Seokjin. 

However, he had crossed paths with his adolescent nemesis in... other ways. 

Taehyung was romancing a lovely young socialite who suddenly ghosted him after someone told her that he wanted at least eight naturally-birthed children. 

Soon after, your favorite charity received an anonymous 30,000 dollar donation requesting that you be featured in the dunk tank for an upcoming benefit carnival and then the same anonymous patron paid for at least fifteen little league teams to attend. 

In retaliation, someone petitioned the National Aviary Society (chaired by a very influential senator’s wife that no one ever refused if they wanted their permits to go through) to make Taehyung the MC at their annual awards ceremony—knowing full well he was allergic to birds (not dangerously allergic—just enough to be miserable).  

Taehyung had sniffled and sneezed through approximately one hundred parrots, parakeets, and other assorted fowl until he was ready to commit murder. 

The last several years had been littered with similar incidents of the two of you taking thinly veiled potshots at one another. 

“I can’t imagine she’s changed very much,” Taehyung bit off absently. His mind was abruptly consumed by how he could get revenge for those demonic birds. 

He didn’t notice the smile creeping over Jungkook’s face. 

“No, sir. I’m sure she hasn’t changed at all.”

Taehyung had only ever had the wind knocked out of him once before. 

He was Dionysia High School’s star pitcher for three seasons and during one particularly tense game against JY Prep, Lim Jaebeom whacked a line drive right into his solar plexus. 

That’s how it felt to look up and see you at the top of the stairs. 

In his head, you were still the mischievous imp from his childhood. Every prank he played was directed at the fierce little fiend with braids and braces who’d knocked him and his date into the university fountain while experimenting with her friend’s skateboard. 

But she was gone… and in her place was something far more dangerous. 

A woman. 

Silken fabric wrapped tightly over curves you definitely didn’t have four years ago. That wild hair had been tamed into shining waves and pinned elegantly at the nape of your neck. The wicked slit that traveled all the way up your thigh teased a smooth shapely leg that all but demanded the viewer fantasize about running their hand up the length of it. 

Suddenly it was very clear why Park Jimin wouldn’t let his sister venture into the corporate cesspool alone. 

Because the sight of you could make a man desperate. 

Betrayal—of all things—slowly crept over Taehyung as you descended toward him like some sort of angel floating down from the heavens. 

His mind went blank. Just watching the seductive shift of your hips as you swayed ever closer felt like a violation of his friendship with Jimin. He could feel the judgmental stares of an imaginary Bro-Code Council boring into him from on high. 

“I see you’ve recovered from your memorable tenure as the Aviary Society’s Master of Ceremonies.”

And just like that the brat was back. 

Taehyung breathed a hefty sigh of relief, secretly thrilled to be in familiar territory with you. 

“Naturally I was delighted to help Senator Mitchell’s wife. In fact, Mitchell’s office just fast tracked all my pending permit requests for the new year.” He tilted forward, coming into your space a bit. “I should really send you a thank you card.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you scowled, breezing past him like an indignant queen. 

Tae could practically see the steam pouring out of your ears. 

“Of course not,” he chuckled.

The first gala of the holiday season was an extravagant annual affair hosted by Min Corp., a Seoul based investment firm that commanded billions in assets. This year, the theme of the event was the Joseon Dynasty and the entire ballroom had been gloriously transformed into a stunning celebration of the Min family’s royal heritage. 

Attendees were gifted their own traditional fan, each uniquely crafted by artisans from Damyang. Taehyung’s was all black with bold silver calligraphy while yours was a beautiful bamboo and silk piece decorated with pomegranate trees. 

You had already whacked three people with it by the time dinner was served. 

“It really is a pity these fell out of fashion,” you lamented. “They’re quite useful.”

“You are deranged,” Taehyung mumbled, massaging his temples in exasperation. 

“Nonsense. I only fanned those who deserved it.”

“Harkins?”

“He was staring at my rack for a solid minute.”

Taehyung could hardly blame the man, it was a battle he himself was losing after all, but Harkins was twice your age and married—therefore his ogling was in especially poor taste. 

“Okay... What about Kang?” 

“He was verbally abusing one of the waitstaff.” 

“Alright, fair enough, but why on earth would you go after sweet old Mrs. O’Malley?”

“She was about to grab your ass.”

Taehyung’s mouth dropped open.

“She’s eighty-five!”

“And still kickin’ apparently.” You shook your head in disgust. “As if I’d whack an eighty-five year-old woman for anything less than non-consensual touching.”

“I- I- mean—surely you must be mistaken,” he coughed. 

“Oh, there’s no mistake. That nasty old crone is a serial offender. She likes to play it off as dementia, but she’s as sharp as a tack. Last year she got a whole handful of Jimin. Honestly, I’d call the police on her, but the commissioner is her grandson so I doubt I’d get very far.”

Taehyung turned to the woman in question just in time to see her totter lecherously toward Jung Hoseok, fingers already twitching in anticipation. 

“Is nothing sacred?” he mused hollowly. 

You shrugged. 

“Many people who accumulate as much as our families have start believing that they are entitled to whatever strikes their fancy.” Your eyes met his with a hint of bemusement. “Surely you should be used to this sort of thing by now?”

“Yes, but I was hardly expecting it from little old ladies!”

The remainder of dinner was a terse affair where you pretended he didn’t exist for the entire meal and he in turn pretended that the spunky young heiress seated to his right was the most darling creature to ever walk the earth. By dessert she was ready to get married and you were ready to vomit. 

Afterward, Taehyung found himself quickly converted to your views on fan usefulness as you began strolling through the crowd intent on strengthening your family’s corporate ties. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you ground out through clenched teeth, “how am I supposed to do business if you keep stabbing everyone I speak to!”

“I don’t know what you’re implying. I’m simply not used to carrying one of these. I may have accidentally grazed a few overzealous individuals—”

“My last three conversations have been rudely disrupted by the blunt end of that accused fan.”

Taehyung crossed his arms smugly. 

“And what of it? Jimin sent me along to keep an eye on you and the gentlemen in question were hardly behaving themselves. No one has to put their hand in my back or lean that close to me when they’re talking business.” 

“That’s because no one wants to get that close to you,” you replied sweetly. “You’re gross.” 

A devastating grin slid slowly over his features as he leaned forward to whisper in your ear. 

“I can think of several women who might disagree.”

He just barely caught the hitch in your breath before- 

“Like who? Miss Blushes-and-Giggles from dinner?”

“Jealous?” Taehyung drawled cockily. 

“Only in your dreams, Kim.” Then, with a deliberate flick of your fan, you turned your back to him. “I’m headed for the ladies room. Do yourself a favor and don’t follow me in.”

It was twenty minutes before Taehyung realized that you slipped out the back entrance of the restroom. 

It took another ten for him to locate you on the balcony flirting outrageously with Min Yoongi. 

The young heir of Min Corp. was just leaning closer to whisper sweet nothings in your ear when a black fan slid right in between the two of you. 

“Lovely weather we’re having,” Taehyung observed cheerfully. His eyes bounced between you and Yoongi with barely concealed fury and you let out a miserable groan. 

“Mr. Kim,” Yoongi cleared his throat significantly. “What an… unexpected surprise.”

Frustration clawed at your chest as your overbearing guardian nodded smugly in response. 

It was time to teach him—and Jimin—a lesson. 

“Yoongi,” you sighed, sliding your hand pointedly through the crook of his arm, “I’m not feeling at all well. Would you perhaps… escort me home?”

Taehyung suddenly looked as if he’d swallowed a live octopus. 

Yoongi grinned, clearly thrilled with the prospect of simultaneously spending more time with you and irritating Taehyung. 

“It would be my pleasure.”

“Jimin is gonna kill me,” Taehyung grumbled as he watched Min Yoongi help you into the passenger seat of his Aston Martin. 

An ugly green feeling he refused to identify twisted sharply in his gut when you smiled coyly at the other man. 

“This is ridiculous,” he snarled to no one in particular before yanking his phone out of his pocket. 

Jungkook picked up on the second ring. 

“Sir?”

“I need you to drive to Ms. Park’s apartment and tell me if she goes in alone or if Min Yoongi goes in with her.”

“You want me to what?!” 

“Just do it!” he snapped, downing an entire glass of champagne before signaling his own driver. 

Fifteen minutes later his phone vibrated from the car seat next to him. 

1 New Message from: Jungkook

Her building has four separate entrances. Which one do I watch? 

Taehyung could practically feel the vein pulsing in his forehead as he scrolled through his contacts. 

You picked up on the fourth ring. 

“Hello?”

“Where are you?”

“Oh it’s you… Wait—how did you get this number?”

“Jimin. Obviously. Now please answer the question.”

“Oh a ‘please.’ Who knew you had manners?”

“Answer the question, Park. I’m tired.”

The distinct sound of a zipper unzipping carried through the speaker. 

“I’m at home, of course. Where else would I be? I just got here like a minute ago.”

He had a sudden vision of Min Yoongi helping you out of your dress. His grip on the phone tightened. 

“Are you alone?”

You snorted. 

“I don’t see how that is any of your business.”

Taehyung saw red. 

“I’m coming over.”

There was a loud crash and several colorful words in at least three different languages. 

“Wha- No! I’m trying to go to bed!”

“With who?!”

“With myself, you idiot!”

“Prove it!”

“Fine! I will!”

The line disconnected and Taehyung swore loudly. He was just about to direct the driver to your building when his phone went off again. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

He almost choked on his tongue. 

You were clearly in the middle of undressing and—in your irritation—probably hadn’t looked too carefully at the picture you sent.  

At first glance it was simply a shot of your empty room (presumably “proof” that you were alone) but you neglected to consider the floor-length mirror hanging in the far corner…

A mirror that showed you angrily holding up your phone with your gown pooled deliciously around your waist and the soft round swells of your breasts strapped into lacy red lingerie. 

You were exquisite. 

A fierce, hot sensation gripped him ruthlessly, and this time there was no mistaking it. 

Desire. 

Your phone lit up on the bed where you tossed it after snapping a photo for your tightly-wound man nanny. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch 

I didn’t know you liked Van Gogh. 

Your head tilted in confusion. 

There was a Van Gogh print in your room, but he couldn’t have seen it because it was behind you when-

Oh NO.

You gasped, scrolling back up to confirm what deep down you already knew to be true. 

… You just sent Kim Taehyung a topless mirror selfie. 

Several miles away, smiling smugly in the backseat of his town car, Taehyung was sure he could almost hear you screaming. 

“Good morning, sir. Which would you like first; the bad news or the worse news?”

Taehyung groaned from underneath his covers. 

“Don’t you ever knock? I could have a woman up here.”

“You’ve never brought a woman up here.”

“Is that the bad news?” Taehyung yawned. 

“No,” Jungkook tossed a small stack of newspapers and printed digital articles into his lap, “this is the bad news.”

Pictures of you, Min Yoongi, and even himself were splashed over the front pages of all of them. 

PARK ANGEL TRADES ONE CORPORATE HEIR FOR ANOTHER AT MIN GALA

WHO WILL WIN THE PARK ANGEL’S HEART? KIM TAEHYUNG OR MIN YOONGI? LET US KNOW IN THE COMMENTS

NEW ROMANCE ALERT? PARK ANGEL LEAVES JOSEON BALL WITH MIN SCION 

“The Park Angel?” 

“That’s what the media calls her... The public is rather fascinated with her actually.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Taehyung mumbled. 

“Of course not, sir. It’s a great mystery.”

As usual, Taehyung chose to ignore his aide’s lethal snark and pressed on to the matter at hand. 

“This is a flaming disaster.”

“Oh I don’t know. I really appreciated the picture of you staring on forlornly while she and Yoongi climbed into the Aston Martin. Takes a real gift to capture all that drama in a single frame.”

“Which one was that?!” 

“It’s right under the MAN DOWN: PARK ANGEL LEAVES KIM TAEHYUNG HEARTBROKEN headline.”

Tae ran his hand down over his face in exasperation. 

“I’m surprised my mother hasn’t called.”

“She has. Twice.”

“I don’t suppose that’s the ‘worse news’ is it?”

“No.”

“Of course it isn’t. I’m never that lucky.” He collapsed backwards into his pillows with a beleaguered huff. “Go ahead then. Tell me.”

“Park Jimin is on the line for you right now.”

After a small eternity on the phone with Jimin (assuring him that NO Min Yoongi had not despoiled his precious sister and YES he would definitely do better next time), Taehyung was forced to attend an impromptu brunch with his mother. It took considerable effort, but he was eventually able to convince her that you were neither breaking his heart nor expecting his child. 

By the time he arrived to collect you for this evening’s event, Taehyung was already sick of hearing your name (he’d spoken it no less than three hundred times since Jungkook woke him this morning).

You were in much the same boat as Taehyung, having spent most of the afternoon pacifying Jimin and clearing up your own mother’s romantic delusions regarding the Min and Kim heirs respectively. 

Tonight’s gala was a Victorian Christmas Ball thrown by the National Literary Fund and the entire venue had been transformed into a Charles Dickens fever dream. 

Unlike the Min Gala (whose theme was guarded like a state secret every year) the Literary Fund’s tribute to A Christmas Carol was tradition and you were dressed accordingly in a custom corset gown with gorgeous detailing. 

Every second of effort it took to lace yourself into the monstrosity was worth the look on Taehyung’s face the moment you slipped off your cape. 

“Something wrong, Mr. Kim?”

Taehyung was desperately trying to look literally anywhere but your chest, where said corset was serving up your breasts like a debauched buffet. 

Jimin. Think of Jimin. Think of what Jimin will do to you. Think of how much trouble she’s caused-

He peeked again.

I would pay a million dollars to suck those tits. 

“Nothing at all,” his voice cracked. 

The itinerary for the evening included performances by a local children’s choir, a traditional waltz, and—of course—dinner.

You both managed to get along without snapping at each other during the choral performance, but as two of the largest donors to the Children’s Literacy Initiative, neither of you could escape being drawn into the waltz. 

The energetic socialite who Taehyung flirted with over dinner the previous night eventually lured him onto the floor while you graciously accepted an invitation from a lovely older gentleman who chaired the Fund’s event committee. 

For the first few movements, you were thoroughly enjoying yourself. Mr. Lee was charming, respectful, and still an excellent dancer despite his advanced age. It wasn’t until a familiar sound caught your attention that the lightness in your chest suddenly felt heavy...

Taehyung was laughing. 

You heard him do so many times over the years, and in each instance, the carefree magic of it never failed to make your heart flutter. 

But now he was smiling down at the pretty little heiress and laughing for her… and the flutter in your chest was accompanied by something else. 

Something that felt an awful lot like longing. 

“Does he know you look at him like that?” Mr. Lee asked quietly. 

Your eyes flew guiltily to his, but it was too late. The old man had caught a glimpse of the secret you buried deeply for more than a decade; so deeply, in fact, there were times you almost forgot it yourself...

Almost. 

“No,” you whispered, “he has no idea.” 

Disaster struck at dinner. 

Taehyung quite liked dancing with the lovely Miss Something-or-Other. She was sweet and funny and (unlike with you) he wasn’t constantly torn between agitation and raging inappropriate lust in her presence. 

The cold shoulder you offered him when he took his seat seemed even more frigid than usual and he spent half the meal wondering what he’d done to earn your amplified disdain when suddenly—

Your hand smacked down on his wrist, seizing it in a vise-like grip. 

Taehyung nearly choked on his steak and was about to give you a searing set-down over your spontaneous grabby-ness when he noticed your expression. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, leaning forward in concern. 

“I-I need—” 

It looked as if you were in some sort of physical pain and Taehyung was rapidly becoming worried. 

“I need your help,” you finally managed to whimper and the next thing he knew, you were dragging him away from the table and into one of the secluded alcoves near the main entrance hall. 

“Is there anyone around? Can anyone see us?” The look on your face bordered on unhinged. 

“No. There’s no one. Park, are you okay? What’s going on I—”

“I need you to unlace my dress,” you hissed frantically. 

At that moment, a bomb could have gone off and Taehyung wouldn’t have blinked. 

You, however, were completely preoccupied with your own distress and therefore oblivious to his. 

“My earring broke during dinner and fell down there and now it’s stabbing me—”

Your eyes were beginning to tear. Taehyung remained frozen, still trying to figure out whether or not this was a lucid dream. 

“—it’s definitely pierced the skin and there’s a possibility I’m gonna start bleeding through the fabric—”

The mention of blood snapped him out of his daze somewhat. 

“A-Alright. Just turn around—brace yourself on that wall.”

You quickly did as you were told and Taehyung began to tug fruitlessly at the ties cross-crossing your back.

“Why won’t this—”

His fingers fumbled over the knots, desperately trying to loosen them, but they simply wouldn’t budge. 

“I can’t—I can’t get it. Whoever helped you into this thing made sure you weren’t getting out of it.” 

You whined in frustration and the earring shifted a bit in response. 

There was only one other way to fix this (and you would almost rather be in pain). 

“Taehyung I—” you turned to face him again, forcing your eyes shut before reluctantly doing what had to be done “... I need you to reach down the front of my dress and get it.”

He blinked. Twice. 

“I’m sorry—What did you just—”

“Please, Tae,” you whispered desperately, letting your lip tremble in a way he had never been able to resist, “it hurts…”

He gulped. 

His eyes dropped to the matter at hand.

This is fine. Everything’s fine. She’s in pain, right? You’re basically a doctor right now. You’re just going slide your hand in between the most mouthwatering pair of breasts you’ve ever seen and then—

Taehyung’s manic inner monologue was interrupted by the sound of his own moan. He immediately faked a coughing fit to cover it and prayed you hadn’t noticed. 

(You hadn’t. You were actively being stabbed.) 

“I can’t believe I’m actually doing this,” he muttered, curling his fingers over the scalloped edge of the bodice. 

You bit your lip, desperately trying to hold back any reaction, but when his knuckle brushed the pebbled tip of your nipple, you gasped. 

Oh.

His hand stuttered, lingering a moment too long over the tight little peak as his gaze suddenly shot up to meet yours. Both of you had been studiously avoiding eye contact, yet now it was as if neither of you could look away. 

Taehyung wet his lips reflexively. 

“It’s too tight,” he whispered, “I need more leverage.” 

Then his arm wrapped over the curve of your lower back and he drew you tightly against him, anchoring your hips just enough to fully slip his hand between your body and the corset. 

You were so warm.

So soft...

“I can feel it,” he grunted, “but I can’t get a good grip on it.” 

His mouth pressed into a tight line as he leaned forward, bringing your back up against the wall. You let out a little squeak and his eyes darted briefly down to your mouth before he spoke again. 

“Hold on to me.”  

You nodded and wordlessly slid your arms around his waist.

If you concentrated hard enough, you could almost pretend that this wasn’t one of the most erotic moments of your life. 

You could almost pretend that it meant nothing. 

Your mind was spinning wildly, wondering what he was thinking, wondering if he noticed how strangely you were breathing or how hard your heart was beating...

“I’ve got it,” he murmured. Shivers shot down your spine at the dark timbre of his voice. 

He was so close. You could feel every word he spoke brushing softly against your skin. 

“On ‘three’ I’m going to pull it out… Are you ready?”

You drew in a final steadying breath. 

“Do it.”

He nodded. 

“One… Two… Three—”

Taehyung yanked his hand back and several things happened at once. 

Your breasts bounced almost entirely out of the corset. 

The decorative clasps on the front of your gown tangled with the buttons on his shirt and when he pulled back, three of them went flying off like stray bullets. 

And finally, the corset didn’t relinquish Taehyung’s hand quite quickly enough and, as a result, you toppled forward and crashed down on top of him, smashing your newly bare breasts to his newly bare chest. 

It could have been ten seconds or ten hours that passed by while the two of you lay there, breathing heavily in a pile of confused arousal when—

“... Is… everything alright here?”

You both looked up to find a thoroughly scandalized member of the waitstaff standing over you. 

Taehyung saw his life flash before his eyes—ending (of course) with Jimin murdering him for this. 

He gulped again. 

“I can explain.” 

It was decided—for the sake of appearances—that you would both leave the venue (immediately) in separate vehicles. 

Taehyung dropped a cool three hundred in crisp bills on the unfortunate waiter in order to help him ‘forget’ whatever he may or may not have seen. 

Neither of you spoke another word to each other in the ten minutes it took to bribe all the appropriate parties, gather your coats, and call for two separate town cars. 

Something had happened when he touched you; a subtle shift in the precarious balance of your relationship that you both felt keenly, but could not possibly begin to define. 

Taehyung barely even remembered climbing into the back of a vehicle. His body was firing on auto-pilot after the sensory overload of the last half hour. It wasn’t until he was nearly home that he realized he was still holding onto your earring. 

His mind began to wander as he examined the troublesome bauble in his palm. It was a striking piece; deceptively complex and unexpectedly beautiful. 

Just like you.

He told himself that the heat pooling low in his belly was anger—that the strange anxiousness to be near you was simply a desire for retribution—that it was merely platonic curiosity that left his hands aching to explore the rest of your curves. 

Lies.

… and pitifully transparent ones at that. 

Still, he clung to them desperately out of self-preservation. 

The gentle hum of his phone suddenly disturbed Taehyung’s silent contemplation. 

1 New Message from: Park Gremlin 

I made it home safely. 

Taehyung’s fingers were typing a reply before he could properly consider the consequence of his actions. 

To: Park Gremlin

I require proof… like last time. 

He nearly threw the phone the moment he sent it, running his hands down over his face in disbelief. 

You’re playing with fire, Kim Taehyung. 

And he was burning up already. He had no business sending you texts like that. Maybe you wouldn’t catch it. Maybe he could just-

The phone went off again and it was embarrassing how quickly he scrambled to open your response. 

His heart stuttered in his chest. His breathing ceased entirely-

And he knew—he knew—there was no coming back from this.

At first glance the photo was nearly identical to the shot you sent him last night. Same room, same angle… 

same mirror.

Yet this time, the reflection was quite different. 

The temptress in the glass wore nothing but that sinfully delicious corset and a pair of silky lace thigh highs, each accented with a green satin bow. 

He wanted to rip them off with his teeth. 

 “Oh Taehyung,” he whispered, as a dark wave primitive longing tore through him, “you are in so much trouble.”

Across town (buried beneath a pile of blankets) you were still struggling to process the boldness of your own actions when his response lit up your screen. 

1 New Message from: Kim Grinch

Green is my favorite color. 

“WHERE IS HE—”

Taehyung awoke to a series of crashes and shouts echoing from the floor below him. 

Jungkook was already seated in the corner of the room reading a newspaper. 

“Good morning, sir,” he said without looking up. “Would you like the bad news or the worse news?”

Suddenly the french doors of his bedroom slammed open and one very irate Park Jimin stormed through. 

“I swear I should have seen this coming. The two of you have always been obsessed with each other, but I never imagined—”

Taehyung’s eyes widened guiltily. He quickly schooled his features into a confused glare. 

“Jimin, I’ve only been awake for fifteen seconds. What the hell are you talking about?!”

Another stack of newspapers hit his lap and this time the pictures were mostly of him with his shirt ripped halfway down his chest. 

KIM HEIR AND PARK ANGEL CAUSE AN OLD-FASHIONED SCANDAL AT VICTORIAN BALL

FORGET MISTLETOE: KIM TAEHYUNG DISCOVERED UNDER THE PARK ANGEL AT CHRISTMAS CELEBRATION

NAUGHTY NOEL? PARK ANGEL’S STEAMY AFFAIR WITH CORPORATE PRINCE 

PARK ANGEL TOPS KIM TAEHYUNG’S CHRISTMAS TREE

He winced a bit at that last one. 

“You have ten seconds to explain before I start throwing things.”

Taehyung opened his mouth to do just that, but he was interrupted when his mother marched into the room waving the same articles that Jimin had just thrown at him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG I raised you better than this! How could you!? That poor girl!”

“Mother!” he squeaked, yanking his blanket up over his chest like a frightened debutante. 

Jungkook began surreptitiously filming the whole debacle from the corner. 

“Indeed,” Jimin added darkly, crossing his arms over his chest, “how could you?”

Taehyung sighed heavily. 

“Is anyone else going to come charging into my bedroom?”

“Just answer me once and for all, is she pregnant?” 

“WHAT?!” 

“NO! Mother! Oh my—”

“Why does your mom think my little sister is pregnant?!”

Taehyung waved his arms wildly in exasperation. 

“My mom thinks everyone is pregnant! You know this!”

Jungkook could no longer contain his hysterical cackling. He very nearly fell off the chair trying to hold it all in. 

“Mr. Jeon,” Taehyung ground out irritably, “if it’s not too much trouble, could you please escort everyone out of my bedroom so I can get dressed!” 

“So you see—I was basically like a doctor,” Taehyung finished emphatically. 

He spent the past twenty minutes explaining to the entire table (which now included both you and your mother) why it was necessary to shove his hand down the front of your dress. 

Park Soomin had shown up at his door looking for answers (and dragging you behind her like a sacrificial lamb) about three minutes after Jimin. 

You had taken one look at Jimin’s murderous expression and insisted that the situation be evaluated over breakfast at the cafe down the street (where there were lots of witnesses). 

Which was how you, Taehyung, Jimin, and both your mothers ended up discussing your cleavage over coffee in a public restaurant. 

Jimin was the first to break. It was a few snorts at first, but he was basically in tears by the end of it, wheezing about how he never doubted Taehyung for a second and holding on to his sides from laughing too hard. 

Taehyung’s gaze met yours for a brief, heated exchange. He conveniently forgot to mention your slightly-less-than-explainable ‘check-in’ texts, but their existence was palpable in the air between you. 

“I think I’ll take a walk,” you muttered, excusing yourself from the complicated atmosphere at the table. 

Taehyung’s eyes lingered on you a tad too long as you wandered away, a fact that wasn’t missed by either of your mothers.

“Just a few more events and you can go back to not seeing her at all,” Jimin chuckled, patting him on the back. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered with a tight smile. “That’s… great.”

The cafe had a lovely little balcony area decorated with all sorts of comforting Christmas foliage. It was far more inviting than the awkward conversation and confusing stares you and Taehyung had been trading all morning. 

For the first time in the nearly fifteen years of your relationship (such as it was) you didn’t know where you stood with him… and it bothered you more than you cared to admit. 

Taehyung had always been important to you, whether you wanted him to be or not. He mattered—effortlessly—from the first moment you met him and continued to do so without regard for your sanity. 

Whatever was building between you now would almost certainly bring change… though what kind of change was anyone’s guess. 

It was hard to imagine the years ahead without the strange excitement he always brought to your life, but some things were simply out of your control…

“I never thought I’d see you here.”

A profoundly unpleasant feeling (something similar to falling through the ice on a frozen pond) overtook you. 

“Milo.” Even saying his name felt gross. You sighed. “What is so strange about seeing me here?”

The man in question blushed in a way you once found irresistible. 

“I looked for you everywhere. All your usual places—”

“I avoided them.”

I avoided you. 

Milo nodded. 

“I—I figured.” 

He took a step closer and you instinctively moved back. The hurt in his eyes was unmistakable, but you had long since become immune. 

“What are you doing?” you hissed angrily. “I thought I made myself clear the last time we spoke.”

“Yes, but—” his hand reached out to curl over your forearm and you recoiled, “you didn’t give me a chance to explain—”

“Excuse me.” 

You both turned to see Kim Taehyung with his arms crossed over his chest, glaring at Milo like he was a roach that crawled across his dinner plate. 

“Your mother sent me to come find you. She wants to leave.” 

You nodded and moved to pull away, but Milo’s grip tightened on your arm. 

“No—please if you just give me a minute—”

“That is enough,” Taehyung snarled, seizing the other man’s hand and forcibly removing it from your person. He angled his body between the two of you protectively. “I think it’s time for you to go.”

Milo’s eyes narrowed. 

“You’re Kim Taehyung. I read all about you in the papers this morning.” His lips twisted into an ugly sneer as he addressed you. “You really think you’re better off with him if that’s the way he treats you?”

Taehyung tensed menacingly beside you, but you laid a gentle hand on his arm to calm him. 

“None of that is any of your concern.” Your gaze rose to meet his defiantly. “Nothing about me is your concern anymore.”

Milo’s eyes fell to where your palm rested on the other man’s sleeve, noticing the way you both unconsciously leaned toward one another. 

“This isn’t over,” he muttered, storming off. 

After he was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t known you were holding. 

“Thank you,” you whispered (though you couldn’t resist adding), “I could have handled it myself of course…”

Taehyung laughed. 

“Oh I know. I was at that party where you knocked out Tyler Jung for grabbing your ass.” 

You grinned. 

“I’d forgotten about that.”

“Well I’m sure Tyler hasn’t.” 

(He neglected to mention that he split Tyler’s lip behind the library the next day, just to make sure it was extra memorable for him.) 

“I wish I could forget about Milo.”

“... Are you still in love with him?” 

The words tasted like ash in his mouth. 

“No.” You smiled softly. “I’m not sure I was ever in love with him actually. It’s more—” you sighed, “—embarrassment… wounded pride.”

Taehyung tilted his head curiously and you found yourself continuing. 

“In the beginning, he was very playful and charming—and obviously handsome. He reminded me so much of—”

you. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Anyway… I was quite taken with him at first. I didn’t suspect any ulterior motives.” You shrugged, trying to hold back the unpleasant emotions that always threatened to overrun you in moments like this. “I just thought he liked me.”

Taehyung’s eyes filled with sympathy and understanding as you spoke. It felt oddly natural to open up to him this way. 

“Jimin is very protective of me—with good reason it turns out. He was suspicious of Milo and hired people to do some discreet digging.”

Your hands wrapped around your body for both warmth and comfort. 

“Milo’s family owns several companies, just like ours, but they’re all struggling. His father sent him to me hoping that he would eventually get compromising information… a sex tape or photographs—something of that nature. They intended to blackmail Jimin into doing business with them.”

Taehyung felt his jaw clench painfully. Fury, hot and profound, rolled through him. 

“I should kill him.”

You shook your head, amused in spite of yourself. 

“That’s exactly what Jimin said.”

“He has good instincts.”

“Scum like Milo aren’t worth it,” you chuckled. “He never got what he wanted… but I was still mortified. I felt like such a fool for believing him.”

“No,” Taehyung’s hands slid up to cup your shoulders, “it’s not foolish to believe that someone cared for you.”

It would be so easy to care for you. 

“Besides…” his eyes fell briefly to your lips as he searched for the right words, “I saw the way he looked at you and—even though he’s clearly a terrible person—I believe his feelings may have been genuine.”

You nodded. 

“That’s what he keeps trying to tell me—that he did have bad intentions, but ended up falling for me anyway.” You shook your head. “As If I could believe a word he says.”

The silence between you stretched comfortably. Taehyung sensed you had more to say, so he waited until you were ready to voice it. 

“I think that’s why I’m so sensitive about handling things on my own lately… and just now even. I want to prove to everyone—to myself—that I’m not a liability.”

“Hey,” he whispered, tipping your chin up till your gazes met, “no one thinks you’re a liability. And even if you are capable, no one should have to fight their own battles all the time—especially when they’re emotionally compromised…” His thumb gently brushed away the small tear that escaped down the curve of your cheek. “That’s the benefit of having people who care about you.”

“... Like you?” 

The words left you so softly, you could almost imagine they were still in your head where they likely should have stayed. 

Taehyung’s eyes widened in surprise. His gaze became even more intent and you ceased breathing altogether. After a moment his lips parted as if he was about to speak- 

“What’s going on, guys?”

You both jerked back at the sound of your brother’s voice. He was standing in the entrance to the balcony, gaze darting suspiciously between the two of you. 

Taehyung was a bit dazed, but you were always quicker on your feet. 

“I ran into Milo… Tae was calming me down.”

Jimin’s eyes hardened immediately. 

“Where is he?”

“Long gone,” you mumbled, ambling over to the familiar warmth of his arms. “I just want to go home.” 

The Black and White Ball was one of the most coveted invitations of the holiday season. 

The dress code was quite strict (all black or all white—no exceptions) and it was one of the few events where people actually arrived in limousines. 

Taehyung loathed limousines. He felt absurdly pretentious pulling up to your building in such a gauche ride, but traditions and appearances meant too much in his world to simply disregard them. 

His ensemble for the evening was a beautifully tailored black suit with hand-stitched baroque detailing. Oddly, he found himself wondering what you would think of it... 

“You look like a vampire.”

Taehyung turned at the sound of your voice and was struck, yet again, by how incredibly beautiful you were. 

You had chosen to wear white, donning an exquisite gown with delicate pearl beading and a daring sweetheart neckline that molded perfectly to your frame. 

If he looked like a vampire, you were surely an angel. 

Still…

Angel or not, he couldn’t let that comment pass. 

“I think I’m offended.”

“I can’t imagine why. After all, loads of women are attracted to Nosferatu.”

Taehyung’s eyes narrowed. 

“There are so many sexy vampires in popular culture, but you just had to lump me in with the creepy bald one...”

You shrugged playfully. 

“I wouldn’t want you to think I was going soft.”

A wicked grin danced over your lips as you strolled past him regally—just as you had many times before... 

This time, however, he let his eyes linger a little longer on the view. 

Lord have mercy. 

“Of course not,” he coughed. 

“You’re what?!”

You rolled your eyes.

Tonight had been going rather well. 

The two of you formed a mutual unspoken agreement to pretend that your last encounter on the balcony (and on the phone) had never happened and (despite the heated glances you occasionally traded) the bickering and playful banter characteristic of your relationship had all but returned to normal...

Until Taehyung learned of your participation in the evening’s main event. 

“I told you, I’m part of the date auction this year.”

“Does your brother know about this?!”

“I didn’t see any reason to bother him with it.” You were suddenly preoccupied with your nails. 

“Woman,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “are you trying to make my life difficult?”

“No, I’m just naturally gifted in that respect.”

You turned and began making your way to the front, but Taehyung was hot on your heels and clearly not ready to let the matter rest. 

“I cannot believe you’re actually going through with this! It’s not 1810, you know. We shouldn’t just auction off women for dates—”

“You’re absolutely right, Tae Tae.” You brushed a condescending pat over his cheek. “Nowadays we auction off the men too.”

Then you sauntered off to join the rest of the participating women—and men—backstage, leaving Taehyung to stew about the entire situation from the crowd. 

“As you know, all proceeds from tonight’s auction go to fight childhood hunger right here in our city. For legal purposes, I must advise all bidders that you are only bidding on the company of the individual in question.”

Taehyung shook his head. “Jimin is probably going to kill me for this.”

“If you place the winning bid, then you and your date will receive two VIP tickets to the Governor's Winter Wonderland Gala which comes with a variety of amenities including; a luxury limousine service, one of the private and famously romantic Winter Wonderland dinner experiences—”

His eyes fluttered shut. “Jimin is definitely gonna kill me for this.” 

“—unlimited free drinks, ten complimentary tickets for each of the grand prize raffles, photos with the Governor and his family, along with many more surprises!”

Taehyung grabbed a champagne flute from a nearby waiter and downed it in one go. 

“And now for our first date of the evening! Mr. Jackson Wang!” 

Jackson went for a cool six grand because no one was brave enough to outbid his girlfriend. 

After him, the beautiful Manoban heiress and her handsome cousin Kim Namjoon went for twelve grand each.

Jung Hoseok started a frenzied bidding war between two young socialites and Mrs. O’Malley. He ended up going to the lovely Ms. Ana Fallon for a staggering twenty thousand dollars. 

Taehyung’s own cousin, Kim Seokjin, paid a jaw-dropping twenty-one thousand dollars for Lin Yuna, the young CEO of Lin Cosmetics. (Taehyung made a mental note to ask him about that later.) 

Then it was your turn. 

“The next lady on our list needs no introduction. The lovely Park Angel has graciously agreed to a date with one lucky bidder tonight! Who will it be? Do I hear ten thousand?”

“Ten thousand.”

Taehyung swung his head toward the first bidder and breathed a sigh of relief. 

Tam Martin, one of your best friends and very gay. 

“Eleven thousand.”

“Twelve thousand.”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixteen thousand dollars.”

“Seventeen thousand.”

“Eighteen.”

Taehyung was having trouble keeping up with all the bidders. His ears were starting to ring again and a strange unpleasant nausea was building in his stomach. 

“Twenty thousand.”

“Twenty-five thousand.”

“Thirty thousand!”

At the sound of the last bidder’s voice, you noticeably paled. Your eyes flew to Taehyung’s and immediately he knew exactly who it was. 

Milo.

Before he could even react to the new information, another voice joined the fray. 

“Forty thousand.”

Min Yoongi smiled smugly from the other side of the room and even had the audacity to throw you a wink. 

You smiled shyly at the young heir’s boldness and Taehyung felt something downright unholy rise up in his chest. 

No. 

Milo was still bidding. 

“Fifty thousand dollars.”

Not her. 

“Sixty,” Yoongi countered.

She’s mine. 

Suddenly Taehyung was on his feet. 

“One hundred thousand dollars!” 

The silence in the backseat of your limousine was deafening. 

Tension charged the air like an electric current as the significance of the last hour weighed heavily between you. 

The spacious luxury vehicle allowed you to sit facing one another. Taehyung’s eyes were focused on his hands, but you were looking at him—letting your mind run wild with speculation. 

And hope. 

Part of you was still there, on the stage, watching him stand up and bid a fortune for the pleasure of your company. 

His gaze was so fierce when he spoke, like an ancient emperor calling out his decree for the people to obey. 

You dreamed about him bidding on you when you signed up for the auction (even before Jimin bullied him into accompanying you). You let yourself imagine him speaking out again and again till the others stepped back—

Yet you never dared hope for it. 

However, the last several days marked an unexpected turning point in your relationship. 

For years, you and he were like magnets with a too-similar charge, but something had shifted irrevocably between you, and somehow your stubborn similarities became opposites that could not resist their attraction. 

Kim Taehyung was one of the wealthiest men in the city…

But he didn’t need to buy your heart. 

It had always been his, even if you didn’t want to admit it. 

He had claimed you tonight—and every single soul in that ballroom knew it. 

The next move was yours and you intended to make it. 

“Mmm,” you hissed a bit, bringing your hand to rest just below your breasts. 

Taehyung’s gaze flew up in concern. 

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, it’s just that scratch from the earring,” your fingers rubbed gingerly at the spot, drawing his focus to it, “it still stings.”

“Oh… I—” he shook his head, “I didn’t realize it was that bad.”

“Do you want to see?” 

Taehyung’s eyes rose slowly to yours. 

You watched the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he considered your words. Anticipation vibrated through your blood like notes struck on a piano—

Then he nodded...

And you both were lost. 

Trembling fingers slid the zipper down the side of your gown. The dress itself was a marvel of physics designed to support you without the need for a bra. 

Taehyung drew in an impossibly deep breath as the fabric drifted to your waist, baring the perfect mounds of your breasts to him entirely. 

“Here,” you whispered, pointing to a small red mark just under the curve of your left one. 

He bit back a moan. 

“I—I see. That looks… painful.” His fingers dug into the seat beside him. “Is there anything I can do to help?” 

You nodded. 

“Kiss it better.”

Taehyung felt the air knock out of his lungs like a sucker punch. 

This must have been how Adam felt when Eve offered him the forbidden fruit all those millennia ago. 

He knew he shouldn’t—

but he could never deny you. 

“Of course.”

You watched as his tongue darted out to wet his lips. He looked like a man possessed and you reveled in the power of it. 

It was for you. 

He wanted you. 

Your back arched up the slightest bit, beckoning to him—offering him a taste of what he was so desperately craving. 

Touch me… please. 

Large palms landed on either side of your thighs, bracing him on the seat beneath you. The tip of his nose teased the delicate line of your collar bone and he swore violently under his breath. 

Then his lips were on your skin and your mind went blank. 

“Taehyung—“ you moaned. 

Hot open-mouthed kisses spread over the soft swell of your breast and you gasped— shuddering helplessly as a fierce wave of pleasure tore through you.

Sweet merciful heavens. 

Over the years you imagined a moment like this thousands of times in your head—only to discover now that you had pitifully underestimated both his passion and his skill. 

You had dreamed of a quiet fire—but he had unleashed an inferno. 

The lewd sounds of his mouth nipping and sucking at your tender flesh filled the small space around you as he poured himself into each obscene contact—stopping briefly to flick his tongue over the taunt peak of your nipple. You trembled breathlessly at the sharp snap of sensation, letting your head fall back against the seat as you buried your fingers in his soft curls. 

“T-Tae—”

Finally his mouth fastened over the tiny scratch, and the kiss deepened. You knew what he was doing, what the result of his efforts would be—

He was marking you. 

And you wanted it. 

Oh how you wanted it. 

Suddenly the car took a sharp turn, causing Taehyung to lose his grip on the seat. His arms wrapped around your torso for balance, dragging you fully against him.

“Does it feel better, Angel?” he growled. 

You nodded frantically and he nipped at the underside of your breast. 

“Speak up.”  

“Yes, Taehyung,” you whimpered, “it feels so much better.” 

“Mmmm,” he hummed, brushing his mouth along the sensitive column of your neck. “Who knew you could be such a good girl?”

Then his hand came up to grip your chin, turning it so your lips were almost against his—

“Madame. We’ve arrived.”

The driver’s voice cut over your senses like a shard of ice. 

Taehyung jerked backward and immediately buried his face in his hands. 

Your fingers hastily yanked your dress up and you stumbled out of the car in a daze, letting your feet carry you forward until you collapsed on top of your bed. 

Did we just...

You hadn’t even begun to collect your thoughts when your phone buzzed from inside your purse. 

1 New Message from: Taehyung 🙄🥴🙈

I need to know you made it safely to your room. 

You grinned. 

Greedy boy. 

Back in the limousine, the boy in question was nervously tapping the corner of his phone against his chin as he waited for your reply. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Oh? But you saw me walk in… and I’m already in bed.

Taehyung growled in frustration. 

She would be a tease. 

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

I tend to worry. Put my mind at ease. 

He shook his head. 

I have officially gone insane. 

The phone buzzed again. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Well… We can’t have that can we… 

Taehyung literally felt the whine tear out of him as he opened the picture. 

Your gorgeous body (the body he’d had his hands and mouth on for one glorious minute) was nestled decadently atop a pile of fluffy blue blankets and wrapped in nothing but a tiny silk robe. 

The neck gaped open just enough to show off the pretty red marks he left on the delectable curve of your breast. 

He groaned, biting down hard on his bottom lip.

To: Angel 🤬🥵😅

That's all I get after I made the pain go away? Good girls send real proof, Angel

The screen lit up again almost immediately. 

1 New Message from: Angel 🤬🥵😅

Guess I’m not such a good girl after all...

Jimin came tearing through the Kim Manor front gate at precisely 7 AM—only to find Jungkook camped out at the entrance with several outdoor space heaters and a giant mug of hot chocolate.

“He told you not to let me in, didn’t he?”

Jungkook took a long satisfying sip of his cocoa. 

“I hope you don’t feel singled out, sir. I’m not allowed to let his mother in either.”

“I need to talk to him.”

“Of course, Mr. Park, let me just pull up his schedule—”

“I need to talk to him now.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Kim is booked solid for the morning.”

Jimin stomped his foot like a petulant child. 

“I know he’s up there.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“You’re welcome to climb the trellis and check. I promise not to stop you if you make it all the way up.”

“COME DOWN HERE AND FACE ME YOU COWARD!” Jimin shouted at the top of his lungs. 

Jungkook took another long pull of his drink. 

“Might I inquire as to the reason for your visit today, sir?”

“The reason for my visit,” Jimin yanked out his phone and angrily began typing into the search bar, “is that your boss paid ONE HUNDRED THOUSAND DOLLARS for my sister at a date auction last night and I want to know what the hell is going on between them!”

The article Jimin pulled up (DEVILISH KIM TAEHYUNG BUYS HIMSELF A $100,000 ANGEL) featured an image of the two of you entering the Black and White Ball. Your head was thrown back in laughter and Taehyung was grinning down at you as if you’d personally hung all the stars in the sky for him. 

A genuine smile crept over Jungkook’s face as he studied the photograph. 

“That’s quite a headline.” He handed Jimin’s phone back. “Have you asked your sister about it?”

“No, I swung by earlier, but she wasn’t home so—” His eyes widened. “Oh my—is she—”

Jimin suddenly took off running for the trellis, and Jungkook scrambled out of his chair to chase him. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG IF MY SISTER IS IN THAT ROOM—”

He was already three feet off the ground when Jungkook yanked him back. 

“I thought you said I could climb the trellis!”

“Yes,” Jungkook wheezed, “but I didn’t think you’d actually do it!” That trellis is a hundred years old! A few more feet and I’d be scraping you off the antique brickwork!”

Jimin scowled and crossed his arms. 

“Are you by any chance open to bribes?”

“Normally yes, but Tae promised to double my Christmas bonus if I didn’t accept them today.”

Jimin continued to eye the trellis speculatively, clearly willing to take his chances. Jungkook sighed and rubbed his forehead. 

“Mr. Park, I promise you… He came home alone last night. In fact, they both returned earlier than usual because your sister had a 7 AM finance meeting.” He paused significantly to glance at his watch. “Which is probably where she is right now.”

“Oh… Well.”

Jungkook bit his lip to hold back a snort and Jimin’s eyes narrowed. 

“He has to come down eventually.”

“One would think.”

The young Park heir glanced toward Taehyung’s window again just in time to see the man in question dart back behind the curtains. 

"I KNOW YOU'RE AWAKE, KIM TAEHYUNG, YOU PHILANDERING SLEAZE BAG!" 

Jimin made another jump for the trellis and this time Jungkook caught him in mid-air. 

“Sir, I’m sure it was just the maid!”

“It’s not the maid! I’d know that raggedy mop of his anywhere!”

Jungkook was out of breath at this point. Park Jimin might be small, but he was fierce. 

“Perhaps it’s best if you took a moment to collect yourself,” he grunted. “There’s a lovely new spa down the street and they sent Taehyung two free deluxe packages.”

Jimin stopped struggling. 

“Oh?”

Five minutes later, Jungkook sighed deeply and fished his phone out of his back pocket. 

“He’s gone, sir.”

“Excellent work, Jungkook. I never doubted you for a second.”

“However…”

“... However?”

“I had to give him your spa passes.”

“YOU DID WHAT?!”

“Are you headed for a gala or the guillotine?”

Taehyung rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t pay extra for commentary.”

“It’s complimentary, sir.”

The Kim heir tugged absently at the material of his absurdly expensive evening wear. 

Why do these events always have to be so uncomfortable? 

“Seriously, Tae… you seem,” the young aide searched for the right words, “unusually tense.”

Taehyung’s mind flashed back to three nights ago when he had his mouth wrapped around your breast. 

“Not at all,” he coughed, loosening the collar of his shirt. 

Jungkook bit his lip.

“Is this about Ms. Park, sir?”

The cufflinks Taehyung was attempting to fasten suddenly went flying across the room and hit a lamp. 

Both men winced. 

“I think that was your grandmother’s.”

Taehyung sighed. 

“I admit there have been… some developments.”

Jungkook nodded nonchalantly, trying to disguise the fact that he was internally frothing at the mouth for details. 

“... Such as?”

Taehyung gulped. 

“It started out rather innocently I suppose…” he cleared his throat, “but there may have been some suggestive photographs.”

“There may have been? Are you not sure?”

Taehyung colored guiltily. 

“Well—”

“Do you need me to check for you, sir? I have an art history degree.”

“Absolutely not.”

Jungkook grinned. 

“That’s what I thought.”

Taehyung yanked his tie out of the younger man’s hand. 

“Things have… escalated a bit.”

“Escalated how?”

I licked her tit in the back of a limo.

“Physically.”

It was everything Jungkook could do to maintain a straight face. 

“That’s… shocking.”

“Then why don’t you seem shocked?” Taehyung grumbled. 

A small smile played across Jungkook’s lips as he pointedly ignored the elder man’s observation.

“So what are you going to do, sir?”

Taehyung was silent for a long moment. 

“I honestly have no idea.”

Watching you walk toward him was an experience.  

Taehyung wondered absently if this was how it would be from now on; if for the rest of his life just the sight of you would be enough to scatter his mind and his pulse and even the way he breathed. 

Your dress tonight was deadly. 

It was a decadent red satin halter that clung to every curve. The truly wicked detail, however, was a daring slit that ran the entire length of your leg. 

Taehyung was certain he was going to trip over his own tongue at some point if he looked directly at you for too long. 

Oh help. 

Memories of your previous encounter flooded his senses. Every second you were getting closer and he didn’t know what to do—what to say. 

So he didn’t say anything at all. 

Not a word when you reached the bottom of the stairs. Nothing but silence as he opened the door of the limo for you. More silence and no eye contact as he settled into the seat across from yours—

And you tolerated that for about three minutes. 

“I never thought I’d see the day when Kim Taehyung didn’t have a comment about something. Perhaps I should mark this down on my calendar.”

The words were lightly spoken, but you were shaking on the inside. The last time the two of you were alone together he had your dress around your waist and you were moaning his name. Now he wasn’t talking and you were torn between panic and irritation. 

Taehyung, however, latched onto your passive barb like a lifeline. 

“Is that a hint of sarcasm I hear from the benevolent Park Angel?” He grinned. “Surely not.”

“Red is not a particularly angelic color. Perhaps I’m feeling feisty today.”

Taehyung leaned back in his seat and indulged himself in a thorough examination of your outfit. The urge to run his hands over the satin-covered lines of your body was nearly unbearable. He curled his fingers into fists to keep them from doing just that. 

She is definitely trying to kill me. 

“Should I be worried?”

Now it was your turn to grin. 

“I guess we’ll find out.”

The Governor’s Winter Wonderland Gala was by far the most extravagant event of the holiday season. Tickets cost a small fortune and sold out almost immediately. 

But it was well worth the price of admission.

Thousands of lights sparkled overhead as you made your way through the great hall of Governor Kim’s mansion. 

It was like stepping into a fairytale. 

Taehyung couldn’t take his eyes off you. The sheer wonder in your expression was breathtaking. 

You were breathtaking.  

“Governor Kim, it is such an honor to finally meet you.”

The Governor was a handsome man in his early fifties with a smile that was every bit as lethal as it had been twenty-five years ago. 

“The honor is all mine, Ms. Park. I trust my nephew is treating you well.”

Your eyes widened. 

“N-nephew?”

Taehyung shrugged. 

“I don’t really talk about it much.” 

The Governor chuckled and you cleared your throat to cover your nervousness. 

“Yes, he’s been a very capable escort.”

“Is that so?” Governor Kim smiled charmingly. “Well if it doesn’t work out, my son Seokjin is still single—”

“Thank you, Uncle. It was lovely to see you as always.”

You squeaked as Taehyung placed his hand firmly on the curve of your back and practically dragged you away. 

The Governor just shook his head and laughed. 

“Oh kid, you’ve got it bad.”

Everywhere you looked there was beauty. 

Whoever planned the gala this year had truly gone above and beyond. Surrounded on all sides by glittering trees and snowy vignettes, it was easy to be swept away in the festive magic of the evening. 

All in all (despite some initial awkwardness), you were having a fantastic time...

Until she showed up. 

“Kim Taehyung! Is that you?”

Every single hair on your body stood on end, but before you could determine the source of the shrill squealing, you found yourself being nudged aside by a blinding golden gown and some very high heels. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung grunted as five-and-half feet of gorgeous wrapped herself around him like a clinging vine. “Long time no see.”

“Not since that vacation in Aspen,” she giggled. “We had quite a time, didn’t we Tae Tae!”

Suddenly you had the most unholy urge to slap the spray tan right off this woman. 

Instead, you plastered on a vibrant smile and placed your hand on Taehyung’s sleeve.

“Um. Excuse me, Tae Tae, perhaps you could introduce us?”

Taehyung looked as if he’d just been served raw fire ants for dinner. 

“Yes. Of course. This is—”

“Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine,” she interrupted with a smug little smirk. “Taehyung and I go way back.” Her expression grew just the slightest bit tighter. “And you are?”

“His date,” you deadpanned. 

“Aubrey,” Taehyung cleared his throat, “I’d like you to meet Ms. Park she’s—”

“Oh my goodness! You’re Jimin’s little sister aren't you!” Aubrey slapped her hand over his chest and he winced. “That is so precious of you to take her around like this!”

Your eyebrows raised right up into your hairline and Taehyung groaned. 

“Yes, he was kind enough to sign me out of the nursery for the evening.” You offered them both a painfully vacant nod. “If you’ll excuse me, I think I see one of my play-dates near the buffet.”

Then you turned on your heel and sauntered off without another word. 

Taehyung moved to follow you, but Aubrey curled her fingers into the crook of his arm and pulled him back. 

“Oh let her go, Tae. You and I have so much catching up to do.”

Taehyung pointedly removed her hand from his elbow. 

“Some other time perhaps.” 

Aubrey pouted prettily. 

“You’re not running off after her are you? She’s a big girl, she can take care of herself.”

Taehyung crossed his arms and fixed her with a knowing look. 

“Funny... that’s not what you were implying a moment ago.”

“A moment ago I didn’t have you all to myself. Now I do.” She had the decency to blush. “Perhaps I got a bit jealous.”

“You don’t say.” His eyes continued to search the crowd for any sign of you. 

“It seems I had good reason to be,” she murmured quietly. 

“Aubrey... Listen I—”

She cut him off with a finger to his lips.

“Don’t bother Tae Tae. I’m petty, but I’ve never been pathetic.”

He grinned. 

“Never.”

The lady sighed and gave him a heated once over.

“What a shame.”

Then she strolled off with a rueful smile. 

“You know what I don’t understand?”

You turn to find Min Yoongi leaning casually against a nearby column. He looked absurdly handsome as always, but his grin was just the slightest bit mischievous. 

“What don’t you understand, Mr. Min?”

The question was clearly a bait, but you were still fuming from your earlier encounter with Ms. St. Valentine and therefore desperately in need of a distraction. 

Yoongi pushed off the column and lazily made his way toward you.

“I don’t understand how a man pays a hundred thousand dollars for an evening with the most beautiful woman in the city, and then leaves her all by herself.” He leaned forward with a playful grin. “Perhaps you could enlighten me?”

Oh he’s good. 

You made a show of tapping your chin thoughtfully. 

“I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that one.”

Yoongi sighed and shook his head. 

“Couldn’t be me.”

You laughed then. He really was a delightful man. In fact, if you still had your heart, you might have considered letting him take a shot at it. 

Alas. 

You tilted your head speculatively. 

Surely there was no need to brush away good company...

After all, no one else is interested in spending time with me. 

“Since my escort is otherwise occupied, perhaps you could join me for dinner?”

Yoongi held out his hand. 

“I’d be delighted.”

Taehyung wandered around the mansion for nearly forty-five minutes looking for his date.  

Panic was just starting to build in his chest when he finally spotted you

—at his private dining table with Min Yoongi. 

It was everything he could do not to storm over and yank the other man out of his seat by the lapels. 

Alright, Angel. If this is the game you want to play… then let’s play. 

Taehyung felt his anger rise with every step, but he ruthlessly suppressed any sign of it and instead adopted a charming smile. 

“Min, I didn’t expect to find you here. What a… delightful surprise.”

Yoongi’s expression was just a shade too satisfied. Taehyung could already feel his blood pressure beginning to skyrocket. 

“Yes, Ms. Park believed that you were otherwise occupied and invited me to share the meal with her.”

“I see,” Taehyung practically snarled. “However,” his gaze landed heavily on you, “since I paid for this table, I hope you won’t mind if I join you as well?”

You avoided looking at him up to this point, but now you were choking on your wine

“Easy there, Angel,” Taehyung murmured as he pulled up a seat extremely close to yours—so close that your thighs were nearly touching. 

Oh boy. 

Over the next several minutes Yoongi continued to flirt openly and you continued to smile prettily and pretend Taehyung wasn’t there (which naturally infuriated him). 

You should have known he wouldn’t let you get away with such behavior so easily. 

This was Kim Taehyung, after all, and if there was anything that could be counted on when it came to your shared history, it was that one (or both) of you was always ready to escalate. 

You had just offered the young Min heir yet another flowery compliment when you felt Taehyung make his move. 

Two warm fingers slid under the silken slit of your dress, coming to rest possessively over the soft flesh of your inner thigh. 

You squeaked and nearly spat up your drink. 

Taehyung leaned forward in fake concern, wrapping his arm around you as if to offer aid. 

“Are you alright?”

His hand continued to move significantly beneath your gown, but his face was the picture of innocence. 

You glared. 

“Just fine, thank you.”

A slow grin crept across his features as he began to trace soft intimate patterns over your skin.  

On the other side of the table, Yoongi tilted his head in genuine solicitude. “Are you sure?”

You nodded sharply. 

Satisfied, he resumed speaking about whatever it was he’d been saying—though you couldn’t understand a word of it at this point because the torturous strokes Taehyung was leisurely drawing over your thighs were moving closer to your center with each passing second. 

Yet you made no move to stop him. 

You should have. 

You should have slapped his touch away—rebuked him for his boldness—

But you didn’t. 

So he just kept nodding and smiling while Yoongi spoke, even as his fingers teased you with the maddening persistence of a man who knew very well what he was doing. 

You gasped aloud when he finally brushed the pad of his thumb over the thin cotton of your panties. 

“T-Taehyung—” 

“Hmm?” he turned to you, seemingly surprised by your attention (it was—after all—the first time you’d addressed him since the beginning of the meal).

“Could you pass me the salt,” you sputtered (hoping to cover the fact that you moaned his name involuntarily). Unfortunately, Taehyung seemed wholly aware of your ruse, offering you the salt shaker with a superior smirk.

You seriously considered stabbing him with a fork. 

However, before you could carry out any bloodthirsty plans, he pressed his fingers directly over your clit and your eyes rolled back in your head

“Oh my g—” you bit your lip stubbornly, “this lamb is just so good.” 

Sweet mother of macaroons, he is too skilled at this. 

You shoveled another bite into your mouth to cover your whine as Taehyung began to rub tight little circles over your sweet spot. 

Across the table, Yoongi nodded in blissful unawareness. 

“Yes, I agree, the lamb is excellent—very tender.”

Taehyung took advantage of the momentary distraction to slip beneath the fabric of your undergarment. 

Your fork clattered to your plate and your hand came up to cover your mouth as he began running his fingers up and down your soaked slit.

It was everything you could do to hold back your depraved whimpering. 

“I can’t wait to taste it,” Taehyung replied, flicking your clit in a way that guaranteed he wasn’t referring to the lamb. 

At this point Yoongi seemed to notice you were in some sort of distress. He wiped his mouth with his napkin and leaned forward. 

“Ms. Park, are you well?”

Taehyung chose that moment to sink his finger into the welcoming heat of your pussy. 

“Yes,” you almost sobbed, “I’m-I’m very well—thank you.”

“Excellent,” Yoongi smiled as he rose to his feet. “If you’re feeling up to it, perhaps you could favor me with a dance?”

Several attendees were already making their way to the center of the floor and the orchestra was beginning to play.

Your entire body, however, was vibrating like a plucked harp string and Taehyung was still brushing back and forth against your clit, driving you toward a release that promised to be explosive. 

There was no way—simply no way—that you would be capable of hiding it. 

“Yes! I would love to dance with you,” you squeaked, grabbing hold of Taehyung’s wrist frantically. The feel of him pulling out of your sopping core was nearly enough to have you coming right there. 

Thankfully, Yoongi remained utterly oblivious to the debauchery unfolding beneath the table. He took your hand and helped you to your feet with an eager smile (and it was a good thing too because your legs were still shaking). 

When the two of you reached the dance floor, you turned back for the briefest instant—

just long enough to meet Taehyung’s heated gaze as his lips closed over the finger he buried in your cunt. 

Emotions were a funny thing. 

They impacted your judgement, affected your body, altered your behavior… 

And occasionally eroded your common sense. 

Sitting alone in the corner of the Governor’s ballroom, Kim Taehyung found himself experiencing a full spectrum of emotional side-effects. 

His hands clenched as he watched Min Yoongi spin you around the floor. 

His heart pounded every time he caught a flash of your shapely leg peeking through the slit in your gown. 

His blood boiled when you threw your head back and laughed at something the other man said. 

It was difficult to pinpoint which emotion was to blame for each of these reactions. There were certainly a number of them boiling over in his subconscious. 

Frustration—

I didn’t even want to talk to Aubrey! How are you acting like anything she said was my fault?!

Rage—  

Why is challenging people to duels illegal? I would fight Min Yoongi at dawn. I would fight Min Yoongi now. 

Jealousy—

You asked her to dance while my fingers were in her pussy. We are not the same. 

But perhaps the most persistent—the most overwhelming— emotion twisting through him was longing. 

You and Taehyung spent nearly four years apart, and he was so desperate to be near you—even then—that he resorted to childish pranks in order to remain a part of your life. 

He hadn’t recognized his actions or desires for what they were. He hadn’t realized what you meant to him...

But now, after spending the last several days with your hand on his arm and your laughter in his ear, he could no longer imagine spending another moment without you. 

Everything seemed to crystallize as he watched you laughing and dancing in the arms of another man. 

Uncertainty became clear. Complications became simple. 

And when he saw Min Yoongi’s hand slide dangerously close to the perfect swell of your backside—

Emotion became action.

“Mind if I cut in?”

It wasn’t a question really. Taehyung was already shouldering his rival out of the way and pulling you into his arms. 

“Taehyung,” you hissed, shooting the bewildered Yoongi an apologetic look over his shoulder, “what are you doing? This is so rude—”

“You’re absolutely right,” he agreed, sweeping you through the couples on the floor with practiced ease. “It is unpardonably rude to steal someone else’s date. He’s lucky all I did was steal you back.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“Oh? So you finally remembered that I was your date?”

Taehyung’s grip on the curve of your waist became a shade rougher as he pulled you through the next turn. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“It means—” you stepped forward vigorously, nearly smashing your body into his, “—that you spent forty-five minutes with Aubrey Alicia St. Valentine when you were supposed to be having dinner with me!”

Taehyung growled and yanked you flush against him. 

“I spent forty-five minutes looking for you while you were giving away my table to Min Yoongi!”

The two of you sailed through the next several movements glaring at one another before you snapped again. 

“None of this would have happened if you had just told Aubrey St. Spray Tan that you were with me—”

“I did!”

“Instead, you let her call me a baby!”

“What let? Aubrey is a grown woman!”

“But—”

“And—you stormed off before I could say anything, so how would you know what I let?”

“You didn’t come after me!”

“Yes actually I did—but she grabbed my arm!”

“Really? Well what else did she grab?”

Taehyung abruptly realized how silent everything around you had become. 

People were staring—and not even discreetly— just full on staring with their mouths hanging open. 

Well that’s great. 

Taehyung’s hand closed around yours and you suddenly found yourself being marched across the dance floor at a breakneck pace.

“What are you doing?”

“Continuing this discussion in private.”

“We can’t just go somewhere private in the Governor’s mansion!” you sputtered, struggling to keep up with his larger strides. 

“You mean in my uncle’s house? Yes—actually we can—and we will.”

Taehyung proved to be a man of his word, dragging you past two security guards and into the roped off section of the manor with nothing more than a nod. 

The residential wing of the Governor’s home was beautifully decorated with traditional Korean artistic touches—all of which you were unable to appreciate while Taehyung was speed walking you through the halls. 

After a surprising amount of turns and archways, he yanked open an ornate wooden door with the words Reflection Suite written on a plaque above it in beautiful calligraphy. 

You almost giggled when you got a look inside. 

On the surface it was a tastefully furnished guest room with a simple cherry wood desk and a cozy double bed set in an elegant matching frame.

However—

The ceiling and one full wall were nothing but massive mirrors. 

Reflection suite indeed. 

The door slammed shut and Taehyung rounded on you with a stormy expression—though you weren’t waiting on him to fire the first volley.

“This is definitely going to get us in trouble.”

“I told you, I can go wherever I want in this house. It’s fine.”

“Then why did you take us here?”

“Because you were shouting—”

“I was shouting?! You were shouting I just—”

Suddenly your back was against the wall and Taehyung’s mouth was on yours. 

He hadn’t brought you here for this. When he grabbed your hand, he was only trying to get away from the crowds. He told himself that he needed privacy so you could talk—so he could clarify things. 

But the minute the door closed and you flared up again in all your magnificent rage, he was lost. 

He had to kiss you then. 

You were so lovely. So fierce. So wildly irresistible and he was too utterly smitten to fight the need to be near you—to be with you in every way that he could—for a single second more. 

The shock of Kim Taehyung pressing his lips to yours lasted about two full seconds—and then there was nothing but ravenous insatiable need. 

Finally. 

Everything was him. 

Everything was this—this sweet indescribable ignition of a desire that spanned years. You moaned eagerly against his mouth in wanton delight. After a decade of sparks, you were more than ready to burn. 

“Taehyung—”

His name poured out of you like a prayer. You needed him everywhere and miraculously he seemed to understand—

Not that he was prepared to be polite about it. 

“Where’s that smart mouth now, Angel?” he growled, tangling his hands in your hair to expose the tender column of your throat. “Nothing to say?”

Your only answer was a desperate whine as he spread hot-open mouthed kisses down the soft skin of your neck all the way to your collarbone.

Now was not the time for patience. He would be tender with you later. You absolutely deserved soft sweet caresses and slow leisurely love making and he was absolutely going to give them to you—every day if you’d let him. 

But not today. 

The minute his mouth encountered the barrier of your dress, he gripped onto the sides and yanked it down to your waist.

“You knew just what you were doing in the back of that limo, you little brat,” he hissed, taking one swollen nipple into his mouth and tormenting it with his tongue.

“Tae-ahhh!” Your back arched involuntarily in ruthless pleasure. 

“I spent hours—days even—wanting to get my hands on these perfect tits.” He licked the other nipple obscenely, squeezing the soft mound till it bulged through his fingers. “And you offered me the barest taste with that coy little grin, knowing it wouldn’t be enough—” 

He reared back and landed a firm slap on both breasts and you screamed.

It was so so good. 

“Look at them now,” he murmured, “so swollen and needy and mine.”

If any other man had said those words, you would have cut his heart out with a butter knife. 

But you had always belonged to this man body and soul, and to hear him acknowledge it so primitively felt like the sweetest vindication. 

“Yes!” you sobbed.

The affirmation only inflamed him further. He teased and fondled the tender flesh till you were shaking.

Your fingers curled into the soft waves of his hair as he indulged himself. He looked so ridiculously good sucking your nipple, moaning lewdly with his eyes pressed shut in cathartic bliss. 

“This is all your fault, Angel,” he groaned. “You just don’t know how to behave.”

His hands gripped the curve of your backside, lifting you right off the floor and into his arms. Your mouths fused together heatedly as he carried you to the bed, and you giggled against him when his words finally processed. 

“You’ve been saying that for years.” 

“It’s been true for years,” he muttered, pulling one of your legs up around him so he could grind against your cunt while you kissed. 

Your fingers tugged at the buttons of his shirt, tearing them off when they didn’t unhook fast enough. You waited too long to be with him like this to care about anything other than the feel of his skin against your own.

“Impatient, are we?” he chuckled, bringing his lips around to nip at your ear. 

“You’re one to talk,” you shot back, yanking the ruined garment right off his shoulder just so you could sink your teeth into it. 

Taehyung moaned loudly, snapping his hips against yours with an involuntary jerk.

“You really are such a brat,” he hissed, fisting his hands in the satin length of your skirt. “Let’s see how fierce you are with my tongue in your pussy—”

His words were so filthy and raw, yet they stoked a frenzied need in your belly like nothing you had ever encountered. 

“This dress is evil,” he snarled, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before switching to a more destructive tactic. “It has tormented me all night and now it’s in my way.”

The stitching proved no match for his resolve, and—after a few vigorous tugs—he ripped it apart from the slit on up, leaving you covered in nothing but the thin cotton underwear he had breached earlier that evening. 

After disposing of your shredded gown, Taehyung paused for a moment just to take in the sight of you. 

“What a perfect little angel,” he taunted playfully, snapping the band of your lingerie against your hips with a cocky grin. 

Then he brushed his nose right up against the sopping fabric and inhaled deeply. “You smell just like heaven,” he growled before licking you right through the cloth, “and you taste even better.”

The sensations twisting through your body were merciless. You needed more or you were going to shake apart. 

“Taehyung please,” you whined, pressing against him shamelessly.

“Oh a please?” he chuckled, throwing your own words from the first night back at you. “Who knew you had manners?”

You would have screamed in frustration, but he cut you off with an open mouthed kiss right over the wettest part of your panties.

“Perhaps I can make a good girl of you yet,” he chuckled, as you opened yourself wider to encourage him. 

You nodded frantically, letting out another moan when he yanked the flimsy little scrap of lace down your legs—smearing a line of arousal over your thighs.

“So messy,” he tsked, tapping his finger right above your knee where the naughty little streak ended. “What am I going to do with you?” 

Then he pressed his tongue over the shiny trail of slick and licked it right off. 

You gasped loudly and his lascivious smirk was almost beautiful enough to make up for all of the shameless teasing. 

Almost. 

"You want my mouth, pretty Angel?” he whispered, letting the words brush maddeningly against your folds. “You want me to feed on this sweet little cunt?”

Every cell in your body cried out for release. He already edged you under the table at dinner and now he was determined to unravel you entirely. You would say anything—do anything. 

"Please—" you whispered.

"Please who?" 

Normally you met his arrogance with a cutting riposte, but an entire evening of methodical torment had left you beyond desperate. 

"Please Taehyung,” you begged needily. 

He grinned. 

“That’s right, Angel. Kim Taehyung. Not Min Yoongi or any other pathetic trust fund prick that’s panting for a taste of this pussy.” His eyes fastened on yours significantly. “You belong to me.”

Then his tongue licked a flat stripe over your glistening slit and you sagged onto the bed in relief—only to be thrown back into oblivion when his lips closed over your clit. 

Your body arched involuntarily as a ruthless wave of pleasure tore through you. Your eyes and mouth flew open in a silent scream and it was in that moment you remembered exactly where you were. 

Underneath a giant mirror. 

The passionate woman staring down at you was nearly unrecognizable. Her body was littered with her lover’s marks. Her hands gripped feverishly into the sheets beneath her—-

And Kim Taehyung was kneeling between her thighs, suckling on her weeping cunt with obscene satisfaction. 

It was the sexiest thing you had ever seen in your life. 

Your hands reached down to tangle in his hair, using it for leverage as you ground against his face. 

Then suddenly his grip on your legs tightened and his tongue plunged roughly into your trembling core. 

“Tae—ahh oh my—I can’t—”

The sensation was so intense that your hips bucked violently. You could not keep still. You were charging towards an explosion and your body was shaking itself apart. 

The noises tearing from you were incoherent. Everything around you focused in on the juncture of your thighs where Taehyung was licking inside of you again and again until—

You shattered. 

And the force of it nearly bent your back in half. 

Delirious sobs poured from your lips as he worked you through it, letting the obscene flood of your cum soak his face. 

The sight of him slowly lapping at the release between your folds, was unspeakably erotic. He ran his hands in soothing circles over your skin while you twitched and fluttered back down from your high. 

Then he was kissing you again. 

It was softer this time, but you felt truly depraved—and instantly obsessed—with the taste of yourself in his mouth—on his skin.

You could barely understand this ravenous hunger. You’d just found relief, yet you were already reaching for more. 

Your hands snaked down and wrapped around his still covered cock and he hissed in ragged pleasure. 

“So eager,” he gasped, as you pushed him back against the headboard—but you didn’t have time to bother with his teasing.

You were gonna blow Kim Taehyung into space. 

He bit his lip when you yanked down his pants and boxers together, freeing his arousal with stunning efficiency. 

It was almost unfair to discover that his cock was every bit as beautiful as he was.

“Of course,” you muttered. 

The sultry smirk he shot you in return had your cunt flooding all over again.

“You think Min Yoongi has a cock like mine?”

“I don’t think about Min Yoongi’s cock,” you retorted, wrapping your hand around his length, “you’ve always been the biggest dick I’ve ever met.” 

“I knew you thought about my dick,” he groaned as you began to work up and down the swollen shaft. 

After a moment, his hand slid over your chin to grip your hair, drawing you forward till your lips were almost touching. 

“I wonder what this pretty mouth can do,” he whispered. 

You gasped against him and he smiled. 

“Do you know how often I pictured your lips around my cock, Angel?”

You mewled shamelessly and he growled, cupping your cheek as your hands continued to service him. 

“Do you know how often I imagined this perfect throat stuffed full of my cum?” 

His palm slid down to lightly grip the soft flesh of your neck and you shuddered against him with a needy whimper. 

“I know you could suck me so good, Angel. I’ve wanted it for so so long...”

Your mouth actually watered with anticipation. 

The desire to be good for him—to give him whatever he asked for—consumed you. 

Taehyung let his head fall back against the headboard with a groan at the first brush of your lips along his shaft. His hips rutted involuntarily as your tongue wrapped around the tip and you hummed with pleasure at his enthusiastic response. 

After a moment you slid him into the welcoming heat of your mouth, taking him in as far as you could in one stroke. His jaw dropped open and his entire body jerked forward. 

“Yes, that’s it, Angel—feels so good.”

His praise was addictive. 

You loved that you could bring him to this. You loved to see the haughty Kim Taehyung coming apart as you sucked him. 

It made you feel beautiful—powerful even—and you reveled in every second of it. 

Your eyes were starting to tear. His length began to throb and pulse against your tongue and you knew he was close—so close you could almost taste him—

Yet suddenly he was pulling you back and you whined pitifully at the loss. 

Taehyung chuckled, dragging you toward him till your dripping core slid across his cock.

“I’m not coming before I get inside that pretty little pussy,” he swore, working your hips over his sex till it was drenched in arousal. 

The crass words filled you with the fiercest, most incredible want and you clenched reflexively against him in response. 

“Is that what you want?” Taehyung whispered as he bore you back into the mattress, pinning both your wrists above your head. “You want me to fill your empty little cunt?”

You did. 

You wanted it so so bad. 

“Please.”

Taehyung gently lowered himself closer to you, resting his forehead intimately against yours as he lined up his cock at your entrance. 

“Are you sure, Angel? Because there’s no going back after this... If you give yourself to me, then you’re mine—and I’ll fight tooth and nail to keep you.”

“Taehyung, you idiot,”—a tender smile spread over your face as you wrapped your arms around his neck—“... I’ve always been yours.”

He swore violently—letting the slight tremble in his voice betray just how deeply your words affected him. 

Then his fingers tightened on the soft flesh of your hip and he filled you to the hilt with one delicious thrust. 

There was a moment—the smallest space in time—where your eyes locked together and everything seemed to suspend; a strange perfect calm before a monumental storm. 

Then your world caught fire. 

Taehyung drove himself into you with passionate fury, letting years of denial fuel the insatiable rhythm of his strokes. 

Every time he told himself no. Every time he held himself back—

Every bit of it burned away as you screamed his name. 

The feel of him was indescribable. 

You imagined it too many times to count, yet your dreams fell pitifully short of the visceral reality. 

He was bloomin’ magnificent. 

Your fingers clawed up and down his back, desperate to hold on to something while he pounded into your g-spot like an animal. 

“This tiny cunt is the tightest thing I’ve ever had around my cock,” he gasped and you whined needily at his praise. “Like it was made for me—” his hand came up to grip your breast, “like you were made for me.”

“Yes—”

Taehyung’s need seemed to amplify with every whimper and moan that fell from your lips. The feelings you sparked in him were fierce and unapologetically primitive.

He would go to war for you—build a fortress for you—fight a dragon if one dared come close. 

You were his. 

And he felt like a savage every time you cried out for more. 

Suddenly an unexpected movement in his periphery caught his attention.

He’d been so consumed with the extraordinary rush of claiming you that he’d forgotten—

This guest room was thirty-five percent mirrors. 

And now… he couldn’t look away. 

The sight of your bodies tangling together in headless bliss played out before him like a scene from his most debauched and forbidden fantasies. His reflection grinned back at him in fascinated ecstasy while his beloved nemesis lost herself in the pleasure of his cock.

Something dark and wild began to burn in his chest as he studied the lovers in the glass. 

“Look at you, Angel,” he whispered softly, “you really are perfect.”

Then he pulled out of your core and you whined bitterly in protest, chasing his body to rid yourself of the sudden unacceptable emptiness. 

“Still so needy,” he taunted, gripping your hips and flipping you on your stomach before you could even think to protest.

“I want you to watch that pretty angel in the mirror come on my cock,” he groaned, plunging back into you from behind. 

The new angle was somehow impossibly deeper and your body shook as another wave of pleasure overtook it. 

Your fingers clawed into the mattress for purchase as he pistoned into your trembling mound. 

Only Kim Taehyung could rail you like a whore while he worshiped you like a queen. 

He gave you a moment to adjust before drawing your body back against his chest. His arm wrapped over your stomach as he slowly eased your legs apart, unfolding the lewd tableau of your bodies joined together for the voyeuristic gaze of the glass.   

“Look at yourself, Angel,” he growled, mesmerized by the way your breasts bounced with every thrust. “Look at how well you're taking me.” 

Then his fingers slid down to rub your clit and you screamed. 

“Tae! Ah-ahh!”

The pleasure building within you now was violent. You were coiling too tightly, too fast—

“That’s right Angel. Take it all.”

Your eyes locked with his in the mirror for the briefest instant.

And then you flew apart. 

Taehyung threw his head back with a carnal moan as you clamped down around him. His body was hurtling toward its own release with reckless speed. 

“I’m close,” he panted, “where can I come?”

“Come inside me please,” you begged, and Taehyung’s eyes widened in frenzied lust. 

“That’s what you want? Huh?” his thrusts became rougher as he chased his relief, “You want me to fill this puffy little pussy with my cum?”

“Yes, I want it so bad—“ you sobbed. 

“Sweet Angel,” he groaned, gripping at your breasts as he pulled you tighter against him. 

Then he met your gaze in the mirror again. 

“I want everything with you; a home—a family—your body in my arms every morning when I wake up—” his voice trembled, “I want it all.” 

The raw vulnerability in his eyes nearly broke you.

“Tae,” you gasped softly, too overcome with joy to manage anything else. 

His mouth pressed hungrily against the curve of your shoulder. You could feel his cock throbbing in your core as he bent you forward, pounding into your sex with exquisite precision. 

"Stay with me, Angel,” he whispered. His thrusts became erratic as he neared his high. “I don’t want to live without you anymore.”

The glorious thrill of his words tore over your senses with euphoric brutality. Your walls tightened greedily around his cock and the taunt cord of pleasure finally snapped. 

He came with a broken groan, flooding the welcoming heat of your womb with his release. 

“KIM TAEHYUNG!”

The sound of his name being shouted by the absolute last person in the world whose voice he wanted to hear woke Taehyung from a dead sleep.  

His eyes widened in panic as he began yanking pillows and covers from all over the bed in a frenzied attempt to hide—

The doors to his bedroom flew open with a resounding crash. 

“Jimin,” he squeaked, trying to look as casual as possible next to a giant pile of bedding. “What uh—what brings you here at—” his eyes darted to the clock on the wall, “—7:30 in the morning?”

Then he frowned. 

“And how the hell did you get past Jungkook?”

Jimin’s murderous expression broke momentarily to allow for a smug grin. 

“Kendra.”

Kendra Jackson was Jimin’s executive aide. She was fierce, capable, intelligent—

And insanely gorgeous. 

Taehyung groaned. 

Poor Jungkookie never stood a chance. 

To the surprise of absolutely no one, yet another newspaper landed on Taehyung’s lap.

KIM HEIR BRINGS NAUGHTY ANGEL HOME FOR CHRISTMAS

Underneath the headline was a picture of you and Taehyung (dressed in clothes you stole from Jin’s childhood bedroom) kissing passionately against the side entrance of the Governor’s mansion. 

One of your legs was wrapped around his waist and he was clearly grabbing your ass. 

“Ah… well you see the camera distorts everything from this angle—and-and the lighting is bad so it’s not really what it looks like—”

“Is that so? Cause it looks like you’ve got your tongue down my baby sister’s throat!”

“Okay—okay,” Taehyung massaged his forehead nervously, “so maybe it’s sort of what it looks like but—”

“I’ll kill you.”

“No wait—” he held up his hands to delay an already advancing Jimin. 

“Why should I wait?!”

“Because—”

“—I trusted you with the most important person in the world to me—”

“The situation is just not that simple.” 

“—and you grabbed her ass in public!”

“Admittedly not my finest hour.”

“So you tell me right now—”

“But you don’t understand it’s—”

“—Why the hell would I wait?!”

“BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH HER!”

For a moment there was absolute silence. 

Then your head popped out from the massive pile of bedding. 

“Really?”

Jimin’s mouth fell open. 

Taehyung groaned again. 

“As usual, your timing is impeccable.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment.

“Are you really in love with me?”

“Of course I’m in love with you! What part of I want you to have my children did you not understand?!” 

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” Jimin choked. 

“That’s not the same thing!”

“It is for me!”

A radiant smile lit up your face. 

“I’m in love with you too.”

Taehyung’s expression softened. 

“Angel I—”

Then you were kissing and Jimin swung around with a horrified shout.

“Oh! No no no—Come on!”

He stumbled out of the room, hands firmly clamped over his eyes. 

“This is not over, Kim Taehyung!” the scandalized young Park heir howled in exasperation… but there was a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

Back in the bedroom, Taehyung shook his head at Jimin’s ridiculous caterwauling. 

“No, it’s not over,” he laughed, pulling you deeper into the comfort of his arms. “It’s only just begun.”

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story. 

This baby took FOR-EVER to write. I started it in November and literally worked on it a little every day. 

If you enjoyed it— even just a tiny bit—please consider taking a moment to leave me some feedback. It is so incredibly uplifting and rewarding to hear reader thoughts and reactions to my work.

I promise to treasure every word like gold. It took a lot to bring this story to life. Your kind words would mean the world to me.

[natsukitakama]

What kind of Yandere Floch is ?

Could I please get Yandere Floch since I’m really curious what type of yandere would he be but with a fem s/o who isn’t member of yeagarits and she’s with Hange and others instead, wanted to stop Eren. She’s also afraid of Floch since she can sense something odd about him

Hey I’m that anon who request yandere Floch with a reader who isn’t a yeagarist, well just so you know they’re not dating but perhaps they are friends and the reader is type of person who’s not ready to be in relationship even if she has a crush and Floch is aware of that. you could reply this ask at the same day when you post this request

Hey it’s me again, the same anon who request yandere Floch, there’s something I want to add more is that the reader figure it out that eren was using and manipulate Floch and the reader was telling Floch that he’s being used so really curious what would he tell her. Once again reply this ask until this request is posted which I know you’ll take long but I’m fine with it since I’m patience

Author note : Hi there, first of all thank you for being so patient with me ! I hope you’ll enjoy your request. It’s like a HS of my what kind of Yandere are they with two part : part 1 and part 2, the only difference is this headcanon got context

Before we started, let me reminds you those relationships are TOXIC please be careful. No one should treat you the way they did in this headcanon, you’re precious and deserve someone who’ll be able to take care of you properly.

Warning : violence / Mention of stress / Toxic relationship and behavior / slight nsfw / mention of violence / Spoiler from season 4/manga if you didn't catch up with the manga you might be spoil so be careful

-->if you don’t feel confortable wit those kinds of things don’t read, I want you to feel good on my blog this is a happy place.

Masterlist

We’re going to start with the basic, during a long time you guys got a hate/love relationship

None of you knew if you hate each other or if you were too into each other, like you were always teasing each other, always trying to get on the other’s nerve.

It was kinda cute until it became an obsession for Floch.

He didn’t notice it though. Not at first, he thought that he was genuinely crushing on you. I mean you were pretty hot, you got a big mouth not afraid to tell whatever you had in mind, you were even bold enough to argue with Floch with that damn smirk of yours.

Before he could acknowledge it he was already in his kneel for you (not literally not now though).

But to you, you were just friends. With your life and what was going own outside of the wall you knew it wasn’t the right time to get in a relationship, so even though you were in love with Floch you decided that it wasn’t appropriate to start dating.

But Floch disagreed with you. It was already too late, he was into you. He wanted to be by your side, he was craving for your attention whether it would be by arguing with him, fighting (not in a bad way you know just teasing each other) or even romantic attention.

He wanted to get everything that you might give him.

And he was ready to do everything in order to get what he was craving for.

At first you didn’t mind it, you didn’t even notice how bad the situation was. I mean, you were in love with him and as you got to know him you realized that he went through a lot of things. You were aware that the Shinganshima’s event left a huge mark on his soul and now he was dealing with a trauma that might stay forever.

It pained you to see him sometimes struggling with his dream because he was always dreaming about the death of his friends, the way he almost dies and for nothing. Yeah they got Shinganshima back but now they needed to be strong in order to fight the whole word outside the wall.

He needed to be strong so he wouldn’t live this again, he needed to be strong so no one would be able to touch you. He knew at this point he became addict to you and you were the only who can maintain a sort of serenity around him.

So yeah when it came to Floch you weren’t exactly unbiased, you cared a lot about him, so you couldn’t manage to just straight up and tell him to let go.

And he knows it oh boy he knows and he is not afraid to use it against you.

Especially when it was time to choose your side, would you be a yeagerist or would you stay with Hange ?

He expects you to make the right choice ( aka follows him in case you were wonderin)

But it was more complicated than that, of course you were afraid. Since you’ve realized that your nightmare started because some people outside of the wall (who used to be your boundaries) decided that you were monster who needed to be killed because some of your ancestor made war against them. You weren’t a fool, you were aware that talking won’t be enough, it’s been decades since the outside hated you, but you weren’t ready to use such a powerful and dangerous power (aka the rumbling) against people without being a hundred percent sure there weren’t a way out.

So for now you decided to follow Hange much to Floch’s dismay

Not gonna lie he was ready, I mean he knew everything about you so of course he kinda expected you to not follow him easily (where’s the fun then ?)

Even if he expected you to confront him and not follow him already, he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I mean why you wouldn’t follow him while all he was doing was fighting for a better word for both of you ? Why wouldn’t you agree with him when he was protecting his people ? Why would you disagree when he was obviously right

So yeah he felt bitterness against you, especially because since you’ve decided to join Hange’s side all you were doing was to confront him about his relationship with Eren. « He is obviously manipulating you ? » « Why are you following him ? I thought he was an ass ? » « We didn’t even try to talk to them how could you be so sure there is no other way ? »

Quickly you came to realize that you couldn’t change his mind which pains you, even though you weren’t ready to be in a relationship for now, you couldn’t help the feeling of emptiness each time you were thinking about him.

Yeah you were missing him, you missed the way you two used to tease each other, you missed his cocky smile each time he was showing off to own some of your precious praise.

But sometimes you swore this man was scaring you, the way his eyes was always on you no matter what (he could have been talking to some of his companion his eyes would remain on you)

Sometimes, you swore that he was following you even though you didn’t have any proof that he was doing it, you just felt it. He was here no matter where you were he was here looking at you from your usual spot to your training spot, you were even starting to think that he was here when you were showering or when you were sleeping.

This sensation was driving you crazy, everyone started to believe that you were a little bit paranoid (yes the man was always looking at you but he told you he was in love so it’s normal right ?)

The feeling became stronger after one of your last confrontation because his behavior (and himself) change brutally :

When you decided to follow Henge-San no matter what, you knew that it would affect your relationship with everyone especially the one you got with Floch. After all he decided to become a yeagarist and to betray everyone in order insure paradis’ safety. In his mind everything made sense, his trauma, all the things he had to go through was because of them, because some people behind the wall decided that paradis was the real danger and needed to be annihilated. What he couldn’t understand was why you hadn’t join him yet ? His goal was noble, he was doing everything to provide you safety. Why were you against him ? Why would you meddle into his plan ? At first, he thought you were playing hard just to amuse him, because you used to love teasing him and while he was enjoying a little opposition coming from you, now that he was about to betray everyone including his superior by changing them into titans he needed to have you by his side. He couldn’t wait anymore, the plan already begun so he needed to convince you to follow him.

That’s why you were here now, in jail behind the bar while Floch was looking at you a frown on his face. No, it was more than that, it was the face you made when you were about to scold your child from acting like a brat. He looked disappointed and quite angry, though you got some ideas why he might be angry you couldn’t however understand why he was so disappointed. After all, you told him that his plan was insane so why was he acting like this ? To be honest you should be the one being angry, he got the nerve to send some rookie from the survey corps find you to arrest you so they could bring you to your jail. You’ve been here since your last argument with Floch and it was like a week ago.

« You know I always knew you were a bad looser but I didn’t expect you to bring me into jail for not being cooperative. Don’t you think it’s a little bit excessive ? Like a LOT »

« Always sassy right Y/N »

« It’s not sassiness at this point it’s just being rational »

« Rational ? You are talking about being rational while being the one who claimed that my plan was full of shit ? »

« I didn’t really say that I just underlined the fact that we still got some cards to play before sending whatever Eren want to send »

« The rambling »

« Yeah whatever that’s not the point »

« It’s definitely the point »

« Absolutely not there is plenty of things to do before even consider sending them titans to kill a whole population »

« A WHOLE POPULATION ? Did you hear yourself y/n ? THEY kill us, THEY were the reason we don’t have a home anymore THEY are the reason so many people died and for what uh ? »

« Not because their government want us dead does it mean the people want our death most of them are probably innocent. There are other way Floch »

« There is no other way y/n the world has to be fix »

« Fix ? Now you are scarring me Floch »

« It doesn’t matter what you think y/n »

« May I ask you why ? »

« Because you’re not leaving this jail »

« I beg your pardon ? »

« Look, here you’re safe from both them and the yeagarist »

« I’m not afraid I’ll kick their ass »

« I won’t take the risk of losing you, so you’re going to stay here all you cute for me yeah ? I Wont be too long I need to work on a little problem then I would be back and you could yell at me as much as you want ok ? I’ll be back »

« No no no Floch look come back OI come back ! I’m not going to stay here you now I’ll find a way out »

« No you won’t nobodies know you’re here I told the yeagarist that you were dead. They won’t look for you, your friends believe you’re dead too. I’m the only person who knows where you are. But it’s okay, it was always about us right ? »

With that he just left your jail, without even a look, all he could was your scream but he didn’t care. The jail was hiding under the military court no one would even think about looking for you here. Besides the wall was thick enough so no one would hear you screaming, for now he decided that you will remain here until he was done saving paradis. But of course, he promised himself to take great care of you so don’t worry.

After this « incident » (aka his way to save you from the trouble outside according to him), his behavior change toward you. You noticed it, he became possessive and rather paranoid when it came to you.

So you might ask what kind of Yandere he is ?

Possessive : I mean he was already possessive before he became the Yandere that he now is, he just lost so many people that now he was afraid that you would be next. So yeah he always makes sure to have his hand on some part to your body mostly your hips or even better holding your hand, since you were attracted to him you let him do his things. But as he falls gradually into darkness, his touch which used to be light touch became more rough. Floch wasn’t holding you anymore he was grabbing you, as if to demonstrate to everyone that he owns you. It wasn’t a mark of affection, but a way for him to illustrate your affiliation to him (as if you were wearing a leash). Speaking of leash, he started to think about it when he notices way too many people was looking at you as if they didn’t understand that you belong to him. And when you two started to be intimate, he was more than ready to mark each inch of your body whether from his teeth, mouth or even from the way he is grabbing at your thigh. It quickly became a habit of him to ask who you belong to especially each time he was giving a rather hard slap from his hips or his hands (because if you think he wouldn’t spank you for being naughty or a brat you’re wrong he loves that) and even though at first you didn’t like the idea of moaning your belonging you quickly discover that it was better for you to just do as he said.

Paranoid : It might because of his trauma from the mission in Shinganshima or because he was more aware about the fact that everyone outside the wall want to erase paradis from the world but he was afraid to loose you. I mean since he joined the survey corps all he has do was losing someone, he lost Erwin, he lost his friends, he lost a part of his mind, he almost lost his life. There is no way he was about to lose you. So yeah as you may notice before, he started by locking you from the world in a jail under the military court after claiming to everyone who wanted to hear it that you were dead. One night he woke up after dreaming that one of the yeagarist would discover you in jail after bringing another prisoner, what if they unlock you ? So after multiple days in jail, without any light, he decided that he couldn’t let you here it was too dangerous, although he claimed to you that he did because he noticed your unhealthy body cause of the lack of light. But since he wasn’t sure if he could trust you enough, he took some handcuff with him so he could link you and him, which made him laugh cause it was as if he put a ring on you. That day he locked you into a house secluded from the world, meaning that you couldn’t reach any city without a horse, it was safe for him and for you and here he was sure no one would ever notice you.

Threatening : Of course, you wouldn’t let him do as he pleased, so some times you tried to kick his ass to steal his horse, or to climb into a tree to help you finding the closest city. You even tried to make him believe you kill yourself so he went completely crazy, screaming, crying so you could knock him you. Unfortunately it never works, and after your failed attempt to leave him he started to threaten you. At first he uses light poison, like he gave you a poison that he mixed on your meal or your drink without you noticing so you were ill during the whole day and you needed to wait like a good s/o that your lovely husband as he calls himself, so he could give you the medicine. Sometimes he even let you believe that he might give you something that will change you into titan like : Do you remember all your officer ? Yeah ? They all drink that famous spinal liquid that change everyone into titan, what if you drank it by accident mh ? Maybe when he gave you food he already mixes your drink with that poison ? Whether it was true or not no one will know, but it works you never attempt to leave him after that.

Violent : I hate to say it, but at some point when dark would entirely cover his mind, he would start being violent against you. Though he would never be something that could kill you, he wanted you to remember that you were living a peaceful live because of him, you were safe because of him. To him you got no reason of being such a brat to him, not when he was giving you everything you wanted. He took care of you, you had no right to be mad at him. So yeah sometimes he had to break your ankle, or maybe your leg so you won’t escape. Sometimes he would strangle you slightly just enough to knock you out. It barely happens because to act like this he needed to be really really angry, like loosing every common sense you know ? So it barely happens but it happens. Your body still have so marks as proof that you shouldn’t get on Floch’s nerve. Despite his physical violence, he tends to be quite violent with his word too so it wouldn’t be a surprise that you’ll break. The emotional amusement in addition with the physical violence would be enough to break anyone so you shouldn’t be ashamed. After all maybe he has been looking for this since the beginning ? Who knows ?

[tchallasbabymama]

Troubled Waters Chapter Four

Hey, yall! Here’s the next chapter of Nia and T’Challa’s journey. I’m super proud of this one (I’m proud of all my work, but still.) With the help of @wordsfromthelivingghost being a bomb ass beta reader, I think this is some of my best work yet. And I’m only gonna get better!

Check out my masterlist to read my other stories (and catch up on this one if you’re new here.) I love when y’all talk to me and share my work so others can discover it, so hit those comment and reblog buttons. Also, be sure to let me know if you want to be tagged in anything. Enjoy!😘

Word count: 8,894

CW: A little blood and cutting but NOT for self-harm reasons. If it bothers you, skip the second half of the scene at Kokou’s temple.

Nia pressed her cheek to the window, careful not to smudge the thin line of white clay painted down the center of her face. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung slightly open as she watched Wakanda zoom by from hundreds of feet in the air. She had always loved seeing what the world looked like from above, but it had been years since she last got to enjoy the view. When she was young, Amare would carry her in his arms as he flew high above the ground to give her a taste of what she so desperately wanted: to feel the wind beneath her nonexistent wings.

T’Challa half-watched Nia from his seat off to the side of the cabin as he flipped through news articles on his kimoyo beads. As they flew over a statue of Bast in her full panther form, he could tell the bright blue light radiating from the tunnel beneath the goddess intrigued her. Her head tilted slightly to the left, and he turned off his beads right as she turned around with a question on her lips.

“That’s Mt. Bashenga,” T’Challa answered prematurely as he stood and made his way over to the window, looking out at his kingdom as Okoye steered the Royal Talon over the Mining province.

“Why’s it glowing?”

“Vibranium.”

“Ohhh.” Nia thought back to the human history books she read as a child that told their story of the founding of Wakanda. Obviously, they had censored the part about aziza, but she still found their revisionist history fascinating. “That’s where the meteorite landed, right?”

T’Challa nodded, impressed by her knowledge.

“Ubaba always said vibranium was ‘the humans’ magic’,” she whispered just loud enough for him to hear.

T’Challa was mildly shocked. He had never considered it that way, but he supposed it was sort of otherworldly what they were able to do with the substance. In comparison to other humans, anyway.

Okoye kept her focus on flying the ship, but T’Challa couldn’t help but spot the slight glow that emanated from Nia’s skin while she ogled the scenery. The king reflected on the description of aziza he had read the day before and remembered that it mentioned their luminous skin. He had noticed that even when she was standoffish towards him, she seemed to radiate light from the inside out, but seeing her literally light up in excitement brought him joy.

When Birnin Zana came into view, Nia’s eyes curiously trailed along the tributaries that moseyed through the metropolis and she was reminded of the magic realm’s big city, Birnin Umlingo. She smiled fondly at how similar they were despite the fact that Birnin Zana was so much bigger. It was nestled between rolling hills and sharp cliffsides, and she was pleasantly surprised to see all the lush greenery dispersed throughout the city. There were small parks everywhere and most of the roofs were topped with well-kept gardens. The skyscrapers and apartment buildings stretched to the sky like the trees that lined the streets, but Nia was almost blinded when the sun bounced off of an impressive structure in the middle of the city. Two almost conical, shining towers spiraled up from an ancient foundation that swirled around the base like the flowing tributary that surrounded most of it like a moat. The towers were connected by a long bridge about a third of the way up and despite her amazement, Nia couldn’t help but wonder why they had to build two towers instead of just one.

“Bast, is that the palace?” She pointed up ahead.

T’Challa smirked proudly. He never tired of seeing the dual vibranium spires that towered over even the tallest skyscrapers throughout the city.

“It is,” he said proudly.

“It’s so big,” she whispered, then turned to look at him. “Does it ever feel empty?”

He furrowed his brows, making a little crease appear between them that Nia found endearing. “How do you mean?”

“Well, it’s just you and your family that live there, right?”

The king nodded.

“Then why do you need so much space? And why two instead of just one? It seems so unnecessary.”

Okoye bit the inside of her lip to keep from snickering at Nia’s sincere inquiries. She wasn’t too keen on Nia and wasn’t quite sure why she was there, but she had worked for T’Challa long enough to know he didn’t like people questioning him.

“I don’t- it’s not just...look.” He pointed back out the window to distract her, and Nia whipped her head around to watch their descent to the landing pad in front of the palace.

The three of them exited the Talon, but instead of entering T’Challa’s gratuitously large home, they made a left and walked through the palace gates and into the bustling streets of Birnin Zana. Nia had been to the big city before when she was young, but it seemed like it had exploded over the last couple of decades. It had always been a busy hub of commerce for the Merchant tribe, but business owners from the other tribes had moved there in droves over the past few years to get a piece of the pie.

The three of them passed through the financial district with ease. Nia kept her neck craned to look up at the tall banks, corporate offices, and massive parking garages filled with hovercars. In the distance, she saw an arena and she wondered what took place there. Did they have many concerts? Sporting events? She made a mental note to ask about that later and continued to take in her surroundings. The maglev trains zooming by high above the street caught her attention, and her eyes widened. She had never been on a train before.

They eventually made it to Three Step Town, the cultural hub of the city and Nia looked on in awe at the various businesses that surrounded them. Once again, she was reminded of Birnin Umlingo as she looked around at the diversity that surrounded her. Most of the older folks were dressed in the traditional clothing of their tribes, but the younger Wakandans seemed to prefer a more modern look. They really were a spectacle. Some people had brightly colored manes and shining vibranium tattoos that decorated their skin, and the sight had Nia’s wheels turning. She had never really experimented much with her look, but they were giving her the inspiration to try something different.

Just as Nia began to ponder what body modification would look good on her, she felt someone grab her and yank her to the side of the street. She began to protest right as a streetcar full of people rolled by. Nia turned to thank her savior, smiling sheepishly when she realized it was Okoye.

“Watch where you’re going,” the general warned harshly and let go of Nia’s arm. The two of them joined T’Challa as he spoke to a snaggletoothed young boy who had proudly shown him the Black Panther action figure that he carried everywhere. The boy’s parents thanked the king for being so polite before they said goodbye and went on their way. Nia’s heart warmed a little at seeing T’Challa be so kind to them. He could have easily ignored the family or had Okoye intervene, but he seemed to enjoy interacting with his people. As the three of them continued on their journey, a small smile pushed up the corners of Nia’s mouth knowing he wasn’t as arrogant as she assumed.

Nia was almost overwhelmed by the many shops they passed by. She could buy anything she wanted: jewelry, instruments, furniture, hats. It seemed like they had everything. However, she came to a halt when they walked by a store with colorful, hand-woven baskets hanging out front. The old lady that ran the shop noticed Nia staring and came forward to help her pick one out, but paused when she saw that the king was standing beside her. She saluted him fondly and turned to face his companion.

“Excuse me, how much for this one?” Nia asked the shopkeep as her fingers ran over the intricate patterns along the sides of a mid-sized sweetgrass basket.

“For you it is free,” the older woman said through a bright smile that crinkled her eyes. Before Nia could protest, she had already taken it down and pushed it into her arms.

“Are you sure? I can pay-”

“Just tell people where you got it,” the woman winked before going back inside to help a customer that was ready to check out.

Nia couldn’t believe how kind the woman had been to give her the gift, but her amazement was cut short by T’Challa leaning in close and ruining the moment.

“Just one of the perks of traveling with the king,” he teased.

Nia rolled her eyes and stepped away from him, continuing down the street with her basket swinging in the crook of her elbow. She had been so caught up in her surroundings that she hadn’t noticed the stares from passersby and began to get a little self-conscious. A few people even snapped a picture or two of the king and his elusive friend, some of which would surely end up on gossip blogs by the end of the day.

Her nervousness was short-lived and quickly got replaced with longing when they turned the corner and walked right through the food district. Not only did the colorful produce stands call to her, but the smells of curries and grilled meats continuously pulled her attention from left to right. However, when a deliciously sweet aroma tickled her nose, she stopped dead in the middle of the road.

“Where is that coming from?” Nia sniffed the air and veered off the main street as she followed the scent to a man that was serving up deep-fried sweet plantain on a stick, drizzled with chocolate. T’Challa kept a close eye on Nia but stayed back and let her wander up to the dessert cart alone. He watched as she engaged the man in conversation and saw her come alive when she tasted the sample he provided her. A small smile crept up the king’s face, but his amusement was cut short by Okoye clearing her throat next to him.

“My king,” she started, and he turned slightly in her direction, nodding for her to continue as he kept his eyes on Nia. “If I may...what exactly is her purpose here with us?”

“Nia is a devotee of Bast, and I believe she may be helpful in our attempts to understand what has happened to her,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Okoye sensed his unwillingness to go further into detail and grew quiet again as Nia damn near skipped back over to them with her hands full.

“Here you go,” Nia sang as she held out two of the desserts for them to take. “He saw I was with the king and gave me three for free!”

Neither of them was hungry, but they just couldn’t say no to her big, childlike eyes.

“Thank you,” T’Challa waved to the man behind the counter and took a bite of the dessert, eyes rolling back in ecstasy. “Mmm”

“See? It’s amazing,” Nia said with a mouth full of plantain. Even Okoye had to agree.

The three of them ate their midmorning snack as they strolled through the streets, eventually making their way to a much quieter section on the outskirts of the busy city center. Just as Nia finished licking the last bit of chocolate from the wooden stick, she came face to face with an ancient-looking stone building that didn’t quite fit the vibe of the modern neighborhood. Her eyes zeroed in on the large statue at the entrance. It was a being with the body of a man and the head of an ibis holding a scroll in one hand and a staff in the other.

“Welcome to the flagship branch of the Wakandan Public Library,” T’Challa said proudly.

While Nia loved a good library, she was a little confused about why they were there. “I thought we were going to a temple.”

T’Challa wiggled his eyebrows as he stepped past her, climbing the steps with Okoye in tow, “This is the temple.”

Nia’s curiosity got the best of her, and she followed behind the king and his general. They threw their sticks away in the trash cans outside of the doors that swished open as they approached. Nia hadn’t expected the building to have such modern technologies based on the look of it, but she surmised the library would have a few more surprises up its sleeves.

“Kumkani wam!”

All three of their heads turned towards the woman behind the large marble desk as she scrambled to salute the king, dropping the small stack of books from her arms. T’Challa quickly rounded the desk and smiled at her as he crouched down to pick the books off of the floor. Before she could stoop down to help him, he had already placed them neatly on the desk.

“T-thank you, my king,” the woman stammered and pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose. Never in her life had she imagined she would be so close to royalty, much less her biggest crush. “What can I do for you?”

“Well…” he started, trailing off to get her name.

“Fatima, sir.”

“What a beautiful name,” he flirted innocently and leaned on the cool marble as Nia and Okoye both fought their eyes from rolling to the ceiling. Okoye was used to his flirtatious manner making women swoon at his feet, but it still irked her to no end. They had a job to do, and he was wasting time. Nia, however, felt the tiniest tinge of something deep in her gut as she watched him make eyes at the beautiful librarian. She waved it off as annoyance since she still wasn’t the king’s biggest fan. Adding “womanizer” to her list of reasons not to like him certainly tipped the scales further away from him, balancing out his actions from earlier.

Fatima giggled as she struggled to make eye contact with the handsome king, “Thank you, your highness.”

“Please, call me T’Challa,” he implored, resting his hand over his heart and flashing his irresistible smile.

“Oh, no. I couldn’t do that-”

“I insist.”

Okoye cleared her throat, and T’Challa’s eyes reluctantly shot in her direction.

“Anyway, Fatima, we were wondering if Abdu is in today,” T’Challa continued as he straightened up and stood to his full height, making Fatima swoon even more in his presence. Her eyes wandered down to his chest, but she snapped out of it and attempted to look him in the eye. Her knees nearly buckled under the intensity of his gaze, but she stood firm.

“Y-yes, he is, my ki-”

T’Challa reprimanded her with a simple raise of his right eyebrow, and she quickly corrected herself.

“I mean, T’Challa,” Fatima giggled once more. “I’ll go get him for you.”

“Thank you, Fatima,” he smiled down at her, watching as she walked away with a pep in her step and her hips twitching just a little more than usual.

Fatima disappeared behind a green velvet curtain, and when they were sure she was out of earshot, Nia and Okoye both turned to look at the king. They wore matching expressions of disapproval, but, for some reason, it stung to see on Nia’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked her.

“Must you flirt with every woman you see?” Okoye butted in, clearly exasperated by his antics.

Nia’s eyebrows jumped as a teasing smirk settled on her lips. “Oh, so this is a common occurrence?”

“You wouldn’t believe how many-”

“General,” T’Challa warned, and Okoye stopped talking.

Nia tried to contain a laugh, but it came out more like a snort than she intended. Just as T’Challa opened his mouth to make fun of her, Fatima appeared from behind the curtain with a heavy-set man with tortoiseshell glasses just a few steps behind her.

“T’Challa, my boy! Oh, excuse me, my king.” The man bowed sarcastically and crossed his arms in a salute. T’Challa waved him off with a smile and a click of his tongue, and the two men embraced each other. Nia had noticed T’Challa wasn’t really one to demand formalities, but the man’s familiarity with the king intrigued her.

“Abdu, how have you been?”

It had been several months since T’Challa last visited the library. Abdu had worked and worshipped there for decades and had watched the king grow into the man before him. Some of T’Challa’s fondest childhood memories consisted of him spending hours curled up in the stacks, flipping through whatever book caught his eye that day. Abdu would bring him story after story for him to get lost in, and the older man never tired of T’Challa’s curiosity. No matter how many questions he threw at him.

“Getting old, but I can’t complain,” the much shorter man said as they pulled apart. He looked around T’Challa and noticed his company. “Okoye, a pleasure to see you as always.”

“You as well, Abdu,” she smiled.

“And who might this lovely creature be?” Abdu asked as his gaze fell on Nia. She bristled at his choice of words but said nothing. Even as a child, she had always been sensitive to the word “creature” and felt it offensive to refer to non-humans as such. She knew he had no idea about her bloodline, though, and since he meant no harm she simply ignored the terminology.

“Nia Olu, sir,” she introduced herself with a nod of her head, and he returned the gesture.

“Ah, a beautiful name for a beautiful woman. And what is it that you do, Nia Olu?”

“I am a healer and a devotee of Bast.”

“A devotee, huh? Well, I think we will get along nicely,” he smiled warmly at her before turning back to the king. “What can I do for you all today?”

“Well, actually, Nia is a big part of why we’re here,” T’Challa began. “It seems Bast has gone missing. Neither of us has been able to contact her as of late.”

“Are you a priestess?” Abdu asked Nia, confused as to why a simple devotee would be partnered with the king for such a task. Okoye felt vindicated by his questioning but stayed quiet.

“No, sir.”

“Then, I must say, I’m a little confused on how you would have a direct connection to her-”

“She is highly favored in the goddess’ eyes,” T’Challa cut in, hoping his vague answer would be enough to dissuade Abdu from asking too many questions. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to hide anything from a priest of the god of wisdom, but he also knew he couldn’t give away Nia’s full identity. “We were wondering if maybe you could see if Thoth knows where she is or why she isn’t answering.”

Abdu could tell there was something else to the story, but decided not to press the subject. He figured that if the king felt it was important enough to keep from him, then he had to trust his judgment.

The priest nodded and motioned for the three of them to follow him. T’Challa winked at Fatima before falling in step with Abdu, and once again, Nia’s and Okoye’s eyes struggled to remain straight ahead as they followed behind the two men.

Nia couldn’t help but stare in awe at the rows and rows of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves they passed as they walked through the centuries-old library. She imagined herself spending hours combing through the texts and soaking up whatever knowledge held, just like she did with the many books Amare provided her with as a child. Her daydreaming was cut short when they passed through the children’s section, and she noticed a display of picture books, one of which caught her eye. There, on the cover, was a colorful illustration of an aziza sitting in a tree, watching over a group of children as they played in the grass below him.

Before she knew it, Nia had grabbed the book and started flipping through the pages, scanning the words and pictures for any sign of historical truth. She found none, but her hope didn’t die out. Maybe, just maybe the library held onto more of the past than the Wakandans realized. She knew magical creatures were relegated to folktales, but she began to wonder how many of those tales were historically accurate, if any. She hadn’t noticed that the others had stopped and were watching her tear through the book like it held the secrets to the universe.

“You like that one? It’s a fairly new release. Very popular with the children,” Abdu said, but his words fell on deaf ears.

“Nia?” the king called out to her.

She jumped and dropped the book, but T’Challa caught it before it could hit the ground.

“Yeah? Sorry, I just…” Nia trailed off, unsure of what to say. All three of them looked at her curiously, but when T’Challa’s eyes graced the cover, he understood why she had been called to it. “Are there many stories like this?”

“Of aziza?” Abdu asked for clarification, and Nia nodded. “Sure! Kids love fantastical creatures. You know, some of them even swear up and down that they’ve seen them in real life.”

T’Challa and Nia shared a quick glance as he set the book back where she found it. Of course, Okoye caught their quick exchange.

“Such wild imaginations,” Nia murmured, and the group continued on their trek. She was quiet for a moment as she tried to figure out the best way to word her next question when she decided to just go for it. “Abdu, is there any mention of, um, species that are no longer around in any of these books?”

T’Challa looked at her knowingly out of the corner of his eye. He knew what she was getting at, and he was curious about Abdu’s answer. After seeing Nia’s book the day before, his mind had begun to wonder about ancient Wakandan texts. She had told him that they coexisted long ago, so there had to be some evidence hidden deep in the bowels of the library. If there was proof anywhere, it was here.

“Of course!” Abdu said excitedly and pointed to the far left wall. “Species naturally go extinct all the time. If that interests you, check out our history section over there.”

Nia and T’Challa both cataloged that information for later and started mentally planning their next visits.

The deeper they traveled into the vast library, a tingling grew in Nia’s stomach. There was great power there, and she could feel it. The tingling intensified as they arrived at a large door with an image of Thoth that had been hand-carved by artisans long ago.

“We’ll take it from here, Okoye,” T’Challa ordered, and the general nodded before standing at attention with her back to the door. Then, his eyes fell to Nia. “Ready?”

“I think…”

“That’ll serve you well here,” Abdu joked as he pushed open the heavy door.

Nia wasn’t quite sure what she was expecting to see, but a winding staircase certainly wasn’t on her list of possibilities. The three of them quietly descended the steps, and all that could be heard was the sounds of their sandals connecting with the stone as they went. After what seemed like forever, Abdu came to a halt at another large door and turned to face his visitors.

“You must enter with pure intentions and a cool head, or he will not answer. Understood?”

Nia and T’Challa answered in unison.

“Yes, sir.”

“Of course.”

“Good,” Abdu smiled at them and reached for the handle, pushing it open and revealing what looked to be a private study. The lamps along the stone walls lit up when they entered, and Nia was once again amazed at how the ancient seemed to flawlessly combine with the modern. As she looked around, she noticed that instead of books, there were scrolls stacked neatly on the shelves. A high-backed chair sat behind a large wooden desk with several scrolls strewn about it, and in the center of the room, there was a stone lectern that looked like it had been there since the dawn of time. Colorful pillows surrounded it on the floor, and next to it stood another statue of Thoth. This time, his hands were out and he was holding a staff that resembled the one from the statue out front, except this one was made of gold. This one was real, and it made the hairs on the back of Nia’s neck stand at attention.

Abdu made his way over to the closest shelf and grabbed a scroll from the top of the stack. He then crossed the room again and stood behind the lectern. When he unrolled the scroll, Nia and T’Challa were both surprised to find that it was blank. They watched with bated breath as he produced a shiny gold pen from his pocket and removed the staff from the statue’s arms.

“You two, come sit down,” Abdu said to them, pointing to the floor pillows.

They obeyed his order, and each grabbed a pillow. T’Challa sat cross-legged while Nia carefully placed her new basket on the floor and tucked her feet under her. They waited patiently while Abdu mumbled a prayer under his breath. Despite T’Challa’s enhanced hearing, he could barely make out what Abdu was saying, but the more he spoke, the colder the room became. The priest continued his prayers for several minutes until the staff began to glow with blinding orange light and his mouth snapped shut tight. A soft breeze blew through the room as his eyes glowed the same color as the staff, and the pen in his left hand started to frantically scribble words onto the formerly blank scroll. His hand moved faster than humanly possible, and Nia recognized what was happening as a possession. She bowed her head in the god’s presence and nudged T’Challa in his side to do the same. He followed suit, but neither of their eyes left Abdu, too curious to look away.

It seemed like forever had come and gone as the two sat in silence, watching in awe while Abdu filled the scroll as he channeled Thoth. The only sound that filled the air was the fast-moving pen on the papyrus and a faint humming from the staff, but suddenly, it all stopped. The staff’s light waned, and Abdu blinked his eyes back to their normal shade of hazel. He carefully placed the staff back in the statue’s hands and read over the words he had been given from his god. A frown appeared on the priest’s face, and Nia made eye contact with T’Challa. Neither one felt good news was coming.

“Well,” Abdu broke the tense silence, “to sum it up, it seems Thoth hasn’t seen or heard from Bast in several weeks. He says that’s very unlike her, as I’m sure you know, T’Challa.”

The king nodded. “Is there anything else? Did he say where she might be?”

“Oh, he said plenty, but not about your question. He can be quite long-winded at times,” Abdu murmured as he scanned the text once more to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. He then looked down at his two visitors with an apology in his eyes. “I wish I could’ve been of more help.”

T’Challa stood from his seated position and reached a hand out to Nia. She swatted it away and stood on her own, straightening out her long, flowing skirt before sending Abdu a warm smile. “Thank you for trying.”

“It was a pleasure, my dear.”

“So,” Nia turned to the king, “where to next?”

--------

The smile never left Okoye’s face as she landed the Talon in an open field and proudly led them to their next destination. They had traveled to Okoye’s hometown in the Mining province, and she nodded at her former neighbors as they waved to get her attention. It wasn’t often that she could return to Birnin Djata, but since she was on duty, she had to remain professional.

The town was much smaller than Birnin Zana, and the walk to the temple was much shorter this time around. A few moderately-sized dwellings lined the road to the temple, and Nia could see the town square in the distance. They passed groups of miners boarding and exiting the trains that took them to and from work, and Nia couldn’t help but wonder what all that vibranium looked like up close.

When they arrived at the temple, Nia was pleasantly surprised that this one actually looked like a place of worship. The wall that surrounded it looked as old as time, but the vibranium door in the center had to be no more than a hundred years old. A strange sound echoed from inside, and although Nia thought she recognized it, she was confused on why it was coming from a temple of all places.

“Is something wrong? What’s going on in there?” she asked with concern, making Okoye’s smile expand and her eyes light up.

“Sparring.”

Nia’s confusion grew, and she turned to T’Challa for clarification.

“Kokou is the god of war. Fighters often train here, and many of his followers go on to become great warriors. Including Okoye,” he explained.

“Ohhh, ok.”

Okoye led them up the temple’s steps, and Nia’s attention was drawn to the rows of fire that lined the walkway. As the party of three got closer to the doors, they slowly parted to grant them access. Loud shouts and grunts came from the right, and Okoye led them down the hallway, directly towards the noise.

Nia watched excitedly as the warriors-in-training sparred with one another. Fists connected with flesh, spears sliced through the air, and fighters seemed to glide across the padded floor. She recognized some of the fighting styles and thought back to her younger days when Amare took it upon himself to teach her some of the combat skills he had to learn for his days as a secret operative. Even though she was a healer, Nia sure was scrappy and could hold her own. It had been a while, though, and she was sure she had forgotten her training over the years.

A bell rang on the other side of the training room, and all of the fighting ceased. Okoye bowed her head in deference as a tall, muscular older woman in red emerged from an observation room and smiled softly in her direction.

“My king,” the woman saluted T’Challa, making all of the fighters whip their heads around and salute him as well. The woman crossed the floor as her trainees stood at attention, and grabbed Okoye’s hands in hers. “Okoye, my dear, it has been too long.”

“Priestess Yaa, how good to see you.”

“And my king, welcome to the Temple of Kokou.”

“Thank you, priestess.”

“What brings you here?” she asked before shooting a sly glance at Okoye. “You never come visit anymore, so I know it must be important.”

“My apologies for keeping her from you,” T’Challa interjected.

“None needed. I knew when Okoye became general that she would have little time for us anymore,” Yaa waved him off and smiled proudly at Okoye before her eyes fell to Nia. “And who is this?”

“Nia Olu,” she respectfully bowed her head.

“And you are a fighter too, no?”

“Um, not exactly. My father taught me how to fight when I was young, but I am a healer and a devotee of Bast.”

This was the first T’Challa had heard of her knowledge of combat, and he wondered what else he didn’t know about her.

“I’m sure it’s still in there somewhere. You have a warrior’s spirit.”

Nia was surprised by the priestess’ comment but thanked her nonetheless.

“Priestess Yaa, we have a problem that you might be able to help us solve,” the king stated.

Yaa nodded and called to her class, “Keep sparring. I’ll be back.”

The room came alive again, and Nia couldn’t help but watch the dozens of bodies moving about with powerful grace as they fought.

Yaa gestured for them to follow her, and she led them around a corner to get away from all the noise. “How can I help you, my king?”

“Bast is missing, and we would like to ask Kokou if he knows where she is,” he cut straight to the point, and Yaa appreciated his brevity.

She gestured again, and the four of them relocated to the other side of the temple. They entered a large, empty room with nothing except a wall of ancient weapons and a huge, raging fire pit in the center.

“This eternal flame was gifted to us by Kokou many millennia ago as a way of contacting him,” Yaa narrated. “In order for him to answer, you will each have to give a sacrifice.”

“I didn’t bring anything to-”

“Blood, dear. You sacrifice blood. He is the god of war, after all,” Yaa chuckled as she glided over to the wall of weapons. Her fingers danced along the flat side of the blade of a vibranium dagger with a red and gold hilt before wrapping her hand firmly around the grip and removing it from its position. Yaa tested the weight of it in her hand as she rejoined the group. Without warning, she sliced her palm open and allowed her blood to drip into the flame. The priestess noticed the look of horror on Nia’s face and attempted to quell her fears. “Don’t worry; you’ll only need a drop or two.”

Okoye was first to step up, pressing the dagger’s tip into her hand and drawing a small amount of blood. She handed the dagger to T’Challa as she made a fist and let her blood droplets fall into the fire pit. The king did the same before passing the dagger to Nia. She looked at it apprehensively, but T’Challa continued to hold it out for her to take.

“Go on, dear,” Yaa urged. “We will heal you up after.”

Nia and T’Challa locked eyes as they were both reminded of the night they became reacquainted with one another. T’Challa’s wound would quickly heal on its own, but she wouldn’t be able to use her powers to heal herself in Yaa’s and Okoye’s presence. She took a deep breath and tried to ignore the feeling of her palm stinging with the memory of alcohol pads. T’Challa knew where her mind had wandered to and took her formerly injured hand in his as he ran his thumb over her palm.

“It won’t be as bad as last time,” he whispered so only Nia could hear him. “Just a little cut, ok?”

Nia’s mouth dried up, and her eyes traveled to Okoye and Yaa. The priestess seemed intrigued by his tenderness towards her, but the irritation on Okoye’s face was clear as day. Nia remembered that he was a serial charmer and removed her hand from his. She reached for the dagger and quickly pricked her finger, squeezing a couple of droplets into the flame.

Yaa set the dagger aside to be cleaned and watched as the flames grew in intensity. All four of them stepped back when the fire surged towards the sky and took the vague shape of a man.

“Kokou,” Yaa fell to her knees, and the others followed her lead. “Thank you for answering our call.”

“Where is the fight?” his voice boomed around the expansive room as what looked to be his head swiveled from side to side taking in the four who summoned him. He had no eyes, but Nia felt his gaze land on her and linger for a moment too long.

“There is no fight this time, but we have an inquiry,” Yaa said as she stood.

“Very well,” Kokou’s voice rang out again, and the flames whipped in T’Challa’s direction. “What is so important that the king requires my assistance? Have you not a god of your own?”

T’Challa looked to Yaa for reassurance as he began to stand, and she nodded for him to continue. “Yes, I do, but she is missing.”

“Missing?! What do you mean missing?”

“She has not spoken to me in weeks, and Thoth has not seen or heard from her either.”

Kokou turned back to Nia. “And you have not heard from her?”

“No, sir,” Nia stood tall as she answered him.

“I am surprised she has not spoken to you of all...people,” he said with a mischievous lilt in his voice. Nia stilled as she realized that he knew what she was. She slyly made eye contact with T’Challa, and though his expression was unreadable, she knew he had to have heard it, too.

“You know, blood can tell you a lot about a person...or being,” Kokou began to pace around the large fire pit. “Who they are, what their lineage is...you, Nia, are very special. But I am sure you know that already, don’t you?”

Nia ignored the confused stares from Yaa and Okoye and stared straight into where she assumed Kokou’s eyes to be. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.”

“Kokou-”

“Patience, your highness,” the god chastised T’Challa, “I was getting to it. I just had to take a little detour first since you brought me such an interesting young lady. Now, to answer your question: sorry to disappoint, but no. I do not know where Bast is. I wish I did, though; she is an excellent sparring partner.”

Nia and T’Challa both deflated a little bit. They had hoped for a better answer than that.

“Thank you, Kokou,” T’Challa spoke with his head bowed to the god. The others did the same, and just as quickly as he had appeared, Kokou was gone.

--------

“Third time’s the charm,” T’Challa mumbled as he held the intricate iron gate open. Nia and Okoye walked through, and the general was blown away by the beauty before them. The botanical gardens sat on a protected stretch of land on the border between the Mining and River provinces, but people from all over the country traveled there to witness its splendor.

Nia, however, was no stranger to the gardens. She made sure to visit a few times a year just to sit and commune with the diverse group of plants, but she never knew it doubled as a place of worship. She liked that the gardens were never full of people, and depending on how deep she veered off the main walkways, she could avoid the public altogether. Except for the delightful presence of one of the attendants, Nia always managed to find solitude and serenity among the plants of the botanical gardens.

“Has this always been Mujaji’s temple?” she asked as the three of them followed the long, winding path that led to the greenhouses in the back of the gardens.

“As far as I’m aware. Why?”

“It’s just that I’ve been here before, and I never knew. I always felt like there was...something here, but I just assumed I was feeling the energy from all of the plants.”

“You can do that?” Okoye asked, and she caught another shared glance between Nia and the king. They had been doing that all day, and she was growing tired of it.

Nia opened her mouth to try to fix her slip-up, but she was saved when a young woman about her age emerged from behind a mango tree and recognized her colorful headwrap.

“Nia?”

“Sukutai!”

Nia ran over to her, and the women embraced. A smile crept up T’Challa’s cheeks at seeing Nia’s faint glow again, but, unfortunately, it seemed that Okoye might have seen it as well. The king ignored her pointed stares and continued to watch Nia and the woman from afar.

“What are you doing here? It’s been months since I saw you last!” Sukutai playfully scolded her before leaning in like she had a secret to tell. “You have to see the new fire lily blooms; I know they’re your favorite.”

“They are,” Nia chuckled, “but I’m here on business today.”

“Business?”

Nia gestured behind her, and Sukutai’s eyes widened in shock as she finally noticed T’Challa and Okoye standing in the distance.

“My apologies, my king,” she quickly saluted him, but he waved her off.

“None needed. Any friend of Nia’s is a friend of mine.”

Sukutai’s eyebrows almost reached her hairline as she turned back to Nia. “I know we don’t know each other very well, but how come you never told me you knew the king?”

“He’s new,” Nia shrugged nonchalantly.

Sukutai shook her head fondly at her friend as T’Challa and Okoye came to stand next to her.

“What brings you to my humble garden, your highness?”

“I would say this is anything but humble, priestess,” he chuckled. This time it was Nia’s turn to be surprised.

“Priestess?!”

“Yeah, I don’t like to advertise it,” Sukutai shrugged.

“Well, I guess we both have our secrets,” Nia teased, making her friend giggle.

“I guess we do.”

“Sukutai, we are here because we need to speak with Mujaji. Bast is missing and-”

“You need to see if he knows where she is.”

“Yes,” T’Challa nodded.

“Right this way,” Sukutai said as she stuck her elbow out for Nia. She wrapped her arm around it, and the two of them took off, chatting about the flora they passed on the way.

Sukutai led them to the back of the botanical gardens towards the greenhouses. There were several smaller ones scattered around that were about the size of Nia’s home, but the very last greenhouse was huge. It stood about two stories tall and expanded across an acre of land.

“How did I miss this?” Nia wondered aloud.

“You weren’t looking for it,” Sukutai winked. “Too distracted by the pretty flowers, as usual.”

“You should really pay more attention to your surroundings, Nia,” T’Challa teased, and she narrowed her eyes at him. Despite the fact that she was still very hesitant to trust Nia, Okoye had to stifle a chuckle at her attitude. It was refreshing for her to see a woman that seemed to be immune to his charms.

The four of them entered the greenhouse, and Nia was amazed at what she saw. Instead of beautiful flowers and lush trees and bushes, there were rows and rows of crops.

“I knew you had some fruit trees, but I didn’t know you grew other foods here, too,” she said with her mouth wide open.

“We have to. Who do you think taught us how to work the land?”

Nia nodded as she soaked up Sukutai’s words. It had never occurred to her that the humans had to learn agriculture from somewhere...or someone. She wondered if aziza had learned from him, too, and if so, why hadn’t she heard about it? Were their history books incomplete, too? Nia’s train of thought was cut short as they arrived at the center of the greenhouse. There was a large patch of soil surrounded by an old stone wall no more than two feet tall. A small plaque near the opening caught the visitors’ eyes, and they crowded around to read it.

“The first garden?” Nia gasped, and her eyes traveled to the rich soil.

Sukutai smiled proudly, “That’s right. This is where Wakandans first learned how to grow sorghum. Mujaji’s magic still inhabits the land, and he allows us to speak to him through it.”

“How does it work?” T’Challa asked, equally in awe of the plot of land that allowed his people to prosper. Yes, they had vibranium, but what use would that be without the ability to feed themselves? Had they remained hunter-gatherers, they never would have gotten to where they are today.

“I’ll show you,” Sukutai said as she untied her shoes. “Nia, would you like to help?”

“M-me?”

“Yes, you, silly. You have the heart and hands of a gardener.”

“What do you need me to do?”

“First thing’s first, shoes off,” Sukutai instructed, and Nia slid out of her sandals. “Now, you see those jars full of seeds over there?”

Sukutai gestured behind them, and they all turned around to follow her line of vision.

“Yes,” Nia’s voice shook as she spoke.

“Don’t worry about what each one is. Just go pick whichever one calls to you.”

Nia nodded and padded her way over to the table covered in glass jars. She felt the power radiating from each one, but she felt compelled to pick up a small jar full of green coffee beans. Her hand instinctively reached out to touch it, but she pulled back and looked to the priestess for permission.

“Go ahead, take one,” Sukutai urged, and Nia carefully screwed the top off. She reached in and grabbed one of the beans, and walked back over to Sukutai.

“Ok, how does this work?”

“We start with a yes or no question. Let’s try ‘Do you know where Bast is?’ and go from there, ok?”

“Ok.”

“Follow me.”

Sukutai stepped onto the sacred land, and Nia did the same. The ground seemed to vibrate, and Nia’s face lit up. The slight glow returned to her skin, and this time Okoye was sure in what her eyes beheld. She quickly turned towards T’Challa, who looked at her out of the corner of his eye but kept quiet. He shifted his weight away from her nervously and continued to watch Nia and Sukutai work.

“You feel it too, huh?” Sukutai asked with a sly smile on her face.

“It feels...it feels like my feet are buzzing.”

Sukutai’s head cocked to the side, and her eyes narrowed as she tried to understand exactly what was happening. Nia obviously wasn’t a priestess of Mujaji, yet his magic spoke to her in some way. That wasn’t normal, and neither was the faint highlight that appeared on her skin.

“Yeah, it does,” she agreed and shook the suspicions out of her head. She knelt to the ground, and Nia followed suit. “Hold the seed in your hands, close to your face- yes, just like that. Now, close your eyes and let it feel your energy. When you are ready, speak to it. Ask your question.”

Nia shut her eyes and focused on the feeling of the seed in her hands. She pictured it growing big and strong, and after a few moments, her mouth was filled with the taste of coffee. It was ready. She brought it closer to her lips and whispered, “Do you know where Bast is?”

When she peeled her eyes open, she saw a huge grin on Sukutai’s face.

“You’re a natural.”

“Thanks,” Nia giggled. “What now?”

“Now you plant it.”

“Anywhere?”

“Wherever you choose.”

Nia studied the ground around her and turned a little to the left. She held the seed in her left hand as she made a small mound in the dirt with her right. She gave the seed one last glance before pushing it into the soil.

“No water?” she asked.

Sukutai shook her head with a mischievous smile, “No need.”

“Ok...so now we wait?”

“It won’t take long. Usually about-” Sukutai’s eyes widened. “Look!”

Four sets of eyes trained on the tiny green sprout that pushed up from the ground.

“It’s never happened that fast before.”

The sprout turned into a seedling, and the seedling matured right before their eyes. Just as hope began to fill the air, it left, and the coffee plant shriveled up. The leaves turned brown, then a murky black before decomposing entirely. Everyone’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and silence descended upon the group. Without even asking, they all knew it was a resounding “no.”

--------

The silence was thick on the ride back to Nia’s. Okoye flew the Talon with a million questions running through her mind, all of which seemed to come back to Nia. Who is she? What is she?

Nia left her position by the window, no longer interested in the ground below, and met T’Challa by his sand table. She watched for a moment as the molecules dispersed and recollected themselves in the shapes of the temples they just visited and the gods they just contacted. He chewed on his lip as he tried to put the pieces together, but there just wasn’t enough information.

“T’Challa?” Nia spoke softly to keep Okoye from hearing.

“Hm?” he grunted without looking up.

“What if the problem isn't in this realm?”

The king tore his eyes away from the table, and the sand fell flat.

“You are suggesting we go to the magic realm?”

“Again with the ‘we,’” she sighed. “No, I’m suggesting I go to the magic realm.”

He stared at her blankly for a moment before calling out to Okoye, “General?”

“Yes, my king?”

“You will travel back to the palace alone-”

“No-” Nia tried to stop him.

“I will be staying with Nia a little while longer. I will call when I need you.”

“Yes, my king.”

Nia dragged her hand down her face, then immediately looked down and noticed the clay that had transferred to her palm. She pinched the bridge of her nose and groaned in frustration, both at the king and at her careless mistake.

“T’Challa, I just said-”

“I know what you said,” he snipped, “but this is my kingdom, and I need to know what’s going on.”

“But-”

“I’m going with you, and that’s final.” He turned away and joined Okoye in the cockpit.

Nia sat off to the side and pouted the rest of the way home. When they arrived, Okoye reluctantly left the king behind and flew off to the palace.

“She could’ve just stayed outside, you know,” Nia fussed as they entered her home. “Now she definitely knows something is up.”

He rolled his eyes, “She knew something was up the moment you started glowing.”

Nia froze and mentally kicked herself for not using the glamor spell her ubaba had taught her. She was in such a rush that morning that it completely slipped her mind. The smug look on T’Challa’s face made her want to slap him, so she stormed down the hall to her bathroom to fix her facepaint. As soon as she finished, Nia heard the king make a strange noise and looked out to see what he had done. A laugh erupted from her belly as she watched the king stand on the couch to get away from Sego. He glared at her, but his eyes promptly fell back on the python that was too close for comfort.

“Call off your snake!”

“Python,” she giggled. “Sego, stop messing with him, please.”

Sego turned her way, and Nia could see the playful look in his eyes. He thoroughly enjoyed messing with the king. T’Challa climbed down from the couch and let out a calming breath as Sego slithered away to the kitchen.

“So the mighty Black Panther is scared of pythons, huh?” she mocked him as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Not scared...I just don’t like them.”

“Mhm. If it makes you feel any better, he’s not fully a python. He’s a shifter.”

“Meaning…”

“Meaning sometimes he’s in his human form, sometimes he’s in his python form.”

T’Challa thought about it for a moment. “Actually, that does make me feel better. Thanks.”

Nia smirked and rolled her eyes.

“So,” T’Challa cleared his throat, “what now?”

“First, we go see my ubaba, then the queen.”

“Ok...how do we, you know, get there?”

“It’s easy,” she bragged as she walked over to him. “Give me your hand, and I’ll show you.”

Nia reached out to him, and when their hands connected, an image of the two of them sharing a feverish kiss popped into her mind. She gasped and pulled back as though she had touched a hot stove.

“What is it?!”

“N-nothing, I just,” she had to think of something quick. “My headwrap. I take it off when I go to the magic realm...to, uh, let my ears breathe, you know?”

“Um, ok.”

Nia hurried from the room and left T’Challa standing there, confused about what just happened. He knew she was lying despite the fact that her excuse had some semblance of truth to it. Thanks to the heart-shaped herb, T’Challa could hear her heartbeat, and something had caused her heart to almost beat out of her chest. His suspicions didn’t last for long, though, because when she came back from her room, his jaw dropped. Of course, he had noticed her beauty the first time, well the second time, he laid eyes on her, but as she came down the hallway fluffing her coils out into an afro that framed her face like an obsidian halo, he felt a knot form in his chest.

“Ready?” she asked, obviously over whatever had been bothering her.

“Yeah,” T’Challa cleared his throat. He was suddenly parched. “Ready.”

“Ok.” She grabbed his hands again, but this time there was no vision. Nia sighed in relief and looked him dead in his eyes as the atmosphere around them began to thicken. “Be cool. Don’t embarrass me.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @motheroffae, @love-mesome-me, @toni9, @bribrisback, @dersha89, @impremenior, @ljstraightnochaser, @love--life--passion, @yourstrulybrii

[90spumkin]

Bewitched

Summary:  Emily bumps into one of Spencer’s students, quite literally. Emily doesn’t know what it is about this girl, but she is undoubtedly bewitched by her.

A/N: I absolutely loved writing this. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it. Here to spread my love and appreciation for Emily Prentiss.

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x Fem! Reader

Warnings: swearing, mention of age gap

Word Count: 1.1K

Emily had decided she missed the curly haired genius and then continued to make plans with him for lunch. That is how she found herself weaving her way across campus towards Spencer Reid’s class. Seeing all the students with their hands full of books made her not miss college one bit. She was lost in her people watching so she didn’t hear the footsteps coming up behind her rather quickly. What made her realize someone was rushing in her direction was the collision between her and someone else. 

 She caught her footing and reached out to catch the other person, she was muttering, “Oh my! I am so sorry! I am late and lost and just very late.” 

Emily regretted picking at Spencer and the way his IQ was slashed in half at the sight of a pretty girl because in that instant her brain was failing her. She was only able to let out a response long after the girl had continued in her frantic state. 

 The rest of her walk, Emily couldn’t get the image of the girl out of her mind. The way her beautiful eyes was filled with worry and stress as she apologized repeatedly and rushed away. Emily’s heart aches for the poor girl remembering what that had been like to be late for a lecture or exam. However, there was an underlying feeling there as well and Emily wasn’t sure if she wanted to address it. 

 When she had finally made it to Spencer’s class, he was wrapping it up and Emily filed away the fact that his class was full of mostly females for later teasing. She eased herself into a seat in the very back of the class only to look to her left and be met with the same beautiful eyes from earlier. 

 The girl gave Emily a small smile and her facial expression gave off the impression that she was slightly embarrassed. When the girl turned her focus back towards Spencer, Emily took the chance to really look at the young girl. Of course, she tried to do this as discretely as possible. 

 Emily noticed how she bounced her leg in anticipation or anxiety, how she wrote her notes furiously across her notebook, and her eyes- oh those captivating eyes drank in everything in her line of sight. 

 The rush of students standing and gathering their things brought Emily back to her senses. She stood and was about to make her way to Spencer when she felt a hand on her elbow. She turned to see the girl stare wide eyed at what she had just done. She started to talk frantically like how she had during their first encounter. 

 “Hi umm I’m sorry for bumping into you earlier. I was looking at the campus map and trying to walk. I really shouldn’t have been doing that, I’m really clumsy as it is- “ 

Emily had caused the poor girl to stop her rambling with a hand on her arm, “Would you like to get coffee sometime?” The girl took a dee breath and smiled, “I’d love that. I’m y/n by the way.” She stuck out her hand for a proper greeting handshake and Emily took it trying to not pay attention to how soft it was against her own.

 Y/n’s eyes went wide once more as she let out a “oh” and started writing quickly and tearing off a piece of paper. She smiled shyly at Emily as she handed it to her, “That’s my number you can text me whenever. I’m almost always free in the afternoon so whenever you want to get coffee or not I- “

Emily cut her off with a quick, “I’ll definitely text you.” This made y/n blush and turn her face away slightly. She started to make her way towards the door, “Okay great. I’m looking forward to it.” She almost tripped while she was waving, and she started muttering as she left the room causing Emily to chuckle. Emily knew she was completely bewitched by the clumsy beauty and she was okay with that. 

 She was still facing the way y/n had not so gracefully exited when Spencer had walked up beside her. He let out a low chuckle, “Emily, be careful.” Emily looked up at the tall slender man she called friend. “What do you mean? It’s just coffee!” Emily crossed her arms and gave the boy genius a look telling him he needed to explain himself. 

 Spencer chucked once more, “All I’m saying is there is at least a decade or so between the two of you. Just something you need to remember when you get coffee”. Emily narrowed her eyes and jokingly hit Spencer’s chest at his teasing comment. She started to walk towards the door, “Come on genius I’m starving.”

 Emily tried really hard the rest of the day to not think about y/n. Spencer’s words kept playing a loop in her mind anytime she thought about y/n’s beautiful eyes or her shy smile. She had started pacing her living room with her phone clutched in one hand and y/n’s number in the other. 

 Sergio meowed at the nervous energy Emily was creating. She stopped her pacing and looked at the feline perched on the sofa, “What should I do, Sergio.” As if answering her question, the cat pawed at the hand clutching the piece of paper that could lead to Emily’s heartbreak or her happiness. 

 Emily was buzzing with energy as she made her way to the little coffee shop y/n had suggested. She had texted y/n last night and got an immediate response. Well, responses, y/n had sent a few messages back-to-back that Emily thought mirrored the way she talked in person. Emily smiled at the thought of y/n and started to feel a little nervous the closer she got to the shop.

 She could see y/n standing near the entrance, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Once she caught sight of Emily a huge grin came across her face and she started waving frantically. Emily laughed at how adorable she was. Once they were face to face, they stood there and smiled at each other a moment before Emily broke the silence, “Hi.” Y/n giggled, “Hi.” 

 “Should we go in?” Emily gestures towards the door. “Oh my, yes, of course.” Y/n went to open the door for Emily. Once they had gotten their drinks and were seated y/n spoke first, “I’m really glad you texted me last night. I’m sorry for all the messages. I get excited really easily.” 

Emily smiled over the top of her coffee and before taking a sip casually said, “My cat told me I should.” Without missing a beat y/n responded with, “I should definitely thank your cat.” Emily knew then that this beautiful chaos in front of her would not be her heartbreak or her happiness but simply her everything. 

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Permanent Taglist: @criminalmindzjunkie @brooklynxnicole @the-queen-of-moons @theintimatewriter @imdefinitelyfloating​ @muffin-cup​

Just Because: @homoose @writing-in-april

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part Two: The Undateables)

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again…) For the Brothers, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Diavolo

He was soooo excited to get to experience camping! He had been asking the MC about human camping trips for about a week before making the announcement and he was pumped!!

Barbatos chauffeured him to the campsite in his own car (of course) but he insisted on taking every roadside, touristy stop they came across which doubled the drive time considerably…

He wanted to help everybody set up the camp but Barbatos and Lucifer were having none of it… So he took pictures and offered moral support instead! Good work everyone! 😁

He had his own tent about the size of a small house (ngl it took Barbs and Lucifer about a half hour to set the whole thing up). Barbs even somehow managed to pack a collapsible desk in there for him so he could still work… greeeat…. 🙄

Diavolo wanted to try everything. Literally everything. The man even traded his uniform out for full on outdoors gear, right down to one of those floppy fishing hats with the tackle stuck to it.

Politely insistently asks that Lucifer does things with him. The MC could come along as well (and in many cases Luci begs them to do so) but he wants to get some bonding time in with his best friend!

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Diavolo would get sidetracked quite a lot… Which is how he ended up having to physically steer his Lord out of harm's way more than once…

At one point while hiking, Diavolo was so distracted by taking pictures that he nearly walked right into the path of a passing bear and her cubs. Lucifer had to tackle him down into some bushes until they went away... His brothers teased him mercilessly when they heard about...

Dia also loved the camping food quite a bit. He's never gotten the chance to cook his own food before, even if it's just marshmallows over a fire, so it was all a brand new experience for him! S'mores are now declared a human world delicacy.

Man had the time of his life! He'd love to do it again, hell, maybe even make it a yearly event! (Few of the brothers share his sentiment, but hey, it pays to be King 😏)

Barbatos

If his Lord orders it, then he follows. He'll just have to double check that everyone is prepared for the occasion…

Drove Diavolo there with the patience of a saint (while also, like, being the exact opposite of that). Had it been anyone else in the car, they might have told him, "No, we can't stop for pictures of every moose you see," but Barbs is as accommodating as he is loyal.

It was pretty much all on his shoulders to direct the others when setting up camp. Lucifer would claim it was his, but let’s be completely honest here, Lucifer can't order Barbs to do shit. 

Naturally, he had his own tent close to his Lord, more modest in comparison, but big enough to hold a majority of the belongings and gear Diavolo had requested.

He also managed to bring a almost fully functioning kitchen setup for him using magic, minus a working oven by Diavolo's instruction. If he wanted a heat source, he had to use the campfire and he found the challenge intriguing…

For once in his extended life, Barbs had to do some trial and error in the kitchen. As it would turn out, fireside cooking can be a little difficult to master, but by the end of the trip he could still somehow dish out four course meals without so much as a sweat (according to the MC the secret was tinfoil and cast-iron cookware… who knew?)

When he isn’t prepping their next meal (which let’s be honest, with Beel on the trip that’s a constant activity) he’s guarding the food from Beel and Solomon…

The sorcerer wanted to help, but Barbs has already learned the hard way that if he so much as pokes a dish its flavor is ruined… It’s enough to make him wonder if it was a curse laid on him at some point…

Watching Barbatos deny Solomon becomes a pretty funny routine in and of itself. He’s not above just smacking the man’s hand away with a wooden spoon if it gets too close. Barbs doesn’t play in his kitchen. Back off. 😠

Barbatos is happy with the trip so long as the young Lord enjoyed himself. If that’s the case, and it was, then he’d happily do it again if asked… not that he’d have much of a choice anyway.

Simeon

Simeon was familiar with the concept of camping, he’d written about it in his stories, but he’d never actually done it himself… He had hoped it'd be an interesting experience! And uh… it was that from the very start… 

Purgatory Hall got its own car and Solomon was put in charge of driving… But no one mentioned that he drives like a complete maniac. Speed limits, stoplights, even the ROAD ITSELF be damned. Solomon drives in a straight line from point A to point B and if there’s anything in the way he’ll just use magic to get around it…

It’s safe to say that by the time he and the others got to the campsite (which was significantly quicker than the rest) the angels weren’t in the emotional state to pitch tents… He and Luke just waited for the others to catch up while praying and praising the solid ground beneath their feet…

He shared his tent with Luke and didn’t mind at all. It was probably for the best anyway because the little angel was scared of human world predators like bears and wolves coming for him in the night… Poor boy…

Simeon took to hiking quite a bit. Going out and exploring the area around the campsite made him feel invigorated! The forests were beautiful and it gave him ideas for a bit of a guilty pleasure he's been debating on writing, "The Tale of the Lonely Prince." 🤭

It was on one of those trips that Simeon discovered human world creatures love him. Pretty much all of the wildlife gravitates towards him like he's a Disney Princess.

At one point he came back to camp riding on a moose with birds chirping on his new friend's antlers. He offered to take the MC out for a ride, but the brothers threw a fit about it…

He WAS able to get a couple more wrangled for Diavolo, who naturally dragged Lucifer along (though he clearly didn't want to touch the thing). 

The three ended up getting into a mooseback race because Diavolo wouldn't let Lucifer take the lead. He was glad to see Luci enjoy himself for a change! (It helped a lot that he won of course 🙄😏)

All and all, Simeon had a great time. Maybe he should ask the MC to show him more human places… But he's never getting in a car again. Pardon his language, but fuck those things!!!

Luke

He doesn't know what's worse… being out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of demons or the absolute insanity that was the "drive" down… 😣

He spent the entirety of Solomon's Magical Ride of Nightmares clinging to Simeon or the armrests for dear life. He swore his entire life flashed before his eyes, can angels even have heart attacks???

Stayed right next to Simeon when they finally pulled themselves together enough to leave the car. He was so happy that Michael didn't see any of that… Who knew human transportation was so horrifying…???

His saving grace (literally) was getting to share his tent with Simeon… After Solomon told him that bears sometimes get curious and ransacked campsites, he clung onto the older angel like a protective charm.

...Whiiiich he wasn't too off about actually after he saw Simeon playing (yes PLAYING) with the human wildlife… Simeon had to introduce him to some of the nicer animals for him to eventually get over his fear and venture out past the campsite.

Luke loved to swim in the lake or river with MC and the others. The MC found a sturdy branch where they set up a rope swing and the little guy amused himself for hours!

Sometimes he'd watch Barbatos prep and cook using the campfire… He didn't even know you could make lasagna in a Dutch oven…

At one point the MC convinced him to go with them and the twins on a particularly long hike…

He got tired halfway through and Beel offered him a piggyback ride, but of course he'd NEVER let himself be that close to a demon!! (Just kidding, poor boy was so tired he climbed onto Beel's back and held on the a kola until they got back. Then he jumped off to save face)

He had a better time than he thought he would, but still doesn't want to go camping with demons ever again. (He and Simeon also begged Lucifer to drive them back instead of Solomon so the brothers' van was pretty much a clown car on the return trip).

Solomon

Solomon hasn't been camping (for enjoyment) in quite a while, so when the prospect came up to do it with the MC and the other students he was intrigued...

When Simeon asked he knew how to drive, he said yes. He knows how to start a car, put it into motion, steer, and then come to a stop. That's all driving is really. 🤷‍♀️ You can't blame him for not memorizing all the rules, he's been traveling by portal for decades!

Was pretty confused why his angel friends fled the car so quickly... He got them there in one piece, after all. 😕🤷‍♀️ He put up their tents himself since they were too busy thanking their father then made a magic barrier around the site for protection purposes.

He and the MC both have their own tents, of course his is enchanted to be a lot bigger on the inside than it is on the outside, but he's only let the MC in on that little secret in case they want to visit… 😏

When everyone else finally arrived, Solomon was happy to help the MC introduce the wonders of the human wilderness to their companions! Including the breathtaking vistas, beautiful flora, bitter temperatures, man-eating predators, waters filled with disease… Hm? Oh, Luke won't leave the tent now…? Whoopsie.

Solomon kept himself occupied on the trip the best way he knew how… relentless trolling (particularly of Asmo and Barbs because they're used to his shit).

He'd alternate between poking fun at Asmo for the almost ritual length routines he was going through to try and save his looks to genuinely trying to encourage him and downplay the severity of the downgrade...

Meanwhile he was bound and determined to serve at least one of his own dishes during the trip (but Barbatos had banned him from the "kitchen," the food tent, and even the spoons...)

Diavolo, nice guy that he is, eventually made Barbs relent and let Solomon cook for ONE night… It went as well as to be expected. (They sent Solomon to grab more supplies then everybody took turns washing their mouths out with lake water... Diavolo apologized profusely, he had no idea...).

Solomon was confused why the angels would rather squeeze themselves in with the brothers than ride with him back but he wasn’t upset about it. That meant he could make a few extra stops without anyone complaining! He knows a guy in New Orleans he’s been meaning to see again… Luke and Simeon can wait a little for their stuff, right?

Click HERE for Part One. Check out my Masterlist for more!

[writingsbychlo]

sinner | bucky barnes

word count; 14,861

summary; bucky is spending the one day he get’s to walk the earth freely the way he usually does. normal demon things. then, he meets his angel.

notes; I got carried away, nothing else to say. the pic is pretty much exactly how I picture demon!bucky looking. also, I did not proofread this, because it’s three am. take it easy on me if it’s riddled with grammatical fuck-ups.

warnings; it’s literally called ‘sinner’. you can work out the warnings.

Bucky didn’t mean to run into you, in fact, you certainly weren’t what he was looking for as he wandered the aisles of a grocery store at two in the morning, but he still had hours before the day really began and the fun could really start, but sometimes he’d find runaways or strays who were so high he thought they surely shouldn’t be able to stand, who he could convince to do a little theft, but then there was you. 

Here he was, making the absolute most of the first few hours of the one day that demons were allowed to walk the earth, darkness still filling the sky and a cold breeze that was more than enough to make him shivering the coolness of the late-year air, and then you’d strolled in. 

An angel on earth, literally. 

He’d heard tales, girls so pretty they could bring you to your knees, an aura that glowed and glittered, all things holy and magical, and the absolute opposite of him, and he was drawn to you from the second that you’d stepped into the building. The cashier behind the till was just a kid, snoozing against his hand as the addict in aisle three continues to shove chocolate bars into his pocket, upon hearing whisperings that he should - something Bucky was still smirking about - as he followed you around towards the bread section.

He could see you more clearly now, and you really were gorgeous. Soft skin, covered mostly by hospital scrubs, and he tried to cover his scoff, finding it absolutely typical that an angel would be here working in a hospital, some kind of selfless act, and he wouldn't be at all surprised if you were a volunteer too, just to really rub your altruistic nature into everybody else’s faces. That was the one thing he didn’t understand, he didn’t get how everybody looked up to Heaven and prayed to a God or deity, how nobody thought it odd how they were all constantly being shamed by bars they could never reach, set so high they weren’t even in sight anymore, but then again, he didn’t like to judge. 

Not when his own actions would be so heavily frowned upon, but what can you expect from a demon? It’s in his nature.

You were tired, you weren’t paying much attention, a scrap of paper in your hands that look awfully similar to the back of a prescription as you moved through the store, trying to fill your basket with everything you’d need, none the wiser as he tailed you slowly, studying you, trying to work it out. From all the stories he’d heard, angels had left the earth long ago, so long that their existence at all had become something that he’d heard questioned many times in the underworld, and so he couldn't quite work out why you were herein a gas station store in the first few hours of Halloween morning. 

He wanted answers, he wanted to get a little closer, confirm it all for himself, and as you spun around to head to the checkout, you crashed right into him, a yelp leaving you as you jumped back, and your eyes finally met his, once you had steadied yourself. One look into his eyes, a quick flicker around the edges of his body as he was certain you could see his own aura, tainted and stained with darkness, before your eyes were going infinitely wider, and the basket in your hands fell to the floor with a crash. 

The items scattered around his feet, tins rolling away and disappearing under shelves, and that exhaustion you’d once had was fading away, replaced with shock and fear, and as you took a step back, he took another step forwards, crowding you up into the shelves, a hand on either side of your head to keep you kept from leaving, and a smirk took over as he watched you tremble a little. 

“Demon.”

You hissed the word out like an insult, and he feigned offence, before that wicked smirk he knew he was wearing twisted up into a sinister grin, head tipping to the side just a little. “Well, hey there, angel.”

“What do you want?”

“You’re very hostile. I haven’t even done anything to you.” He paused, eyes scanning over your face, closing in on the place where you were nibbling on your lower lip anxiously. “Yet.”

“If you’re going to kill me, then just kill me, demon. Get it over with.” You were shaking now, full-blown fear, and he let out a little sigh, dropping his hands but remaining where he stood. 

“There’s no fun in that, is there?” You only scowled, standing strong in spite of the fact that he could practically hear your heart beating out of your chest. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means; what are you doing on Earth, on all Hallow’s Eve?” You had the guts to shove at his shoulders a little, pushing past him to begin to collect your shopping back up, and he sank down into a squat, tipping the basket back to the way it should be, and placing the items back within it carefully, waiting for your answer.

“I live on Earth, and I’m running late to get home. Away from the likes of you.”

He handed you back your basket as the two of you stood, having gathered everything you could find, and he let out a low ‘oooh’ in teasing at your words, laughing through it as the furrow between your brows only deepened. “I thought angels didn’t live here anymore, not holy enough for you once it was corrupted with sin, so you all retreated back up to the promised lands, to spit on the rest of us from the clouds.” He sneered it a little, he couldn’t help it, but you avoided his eyes, shoulders sinking as you shrugged.

“Yes, well, that would be spectacular and all, but they don’t let halfbreeds into Heaven.” He waited, walking alongside you as you moved towards the counter, and he would laugh at his own image if he could see himself now, but somehow, here he was, wasting the only day of the year that he was free to walk around the surface and escape from the depths of the underworlds by helping you pack your groceries. “My father was one of them, and my mother was not. I’m just a cast out. Earning my way.”

“Interesting.”

You only deadpanned, punching your PIN into the machine a little more aggressively than he thought would be normal for you, but then again, you were on edge, and even with your soured mood, you still wished a cheery goodnight to the kid behind the register that made him sick with the amount of earnest goodwill lacing your tone. “What do you want from me, if not to kill me? Is this part of the thrill for you, to make me let me guard down and then to kill me?”

“I don’t want to kill you.”

“All demons want to kill people.” You stopped short at the door, and he almost bumped into you, close to dropping the bags in his arms as he avoided the collision, raising his brows a little bit as you glared at him, before snatching your backs from his arms and taking a wide step back from him. 

“I see I’m not the only ones with misguided ideas about the other.” He tried to take a step forward, but you twisted away from him, protective of your groceries and your life. “Not all demons want to kill. Some of us just get our kicks by convincing people to commit petty crimes and scaring kids on Halloween night. Well, that and stealing candy from babies, obviously.”

He could see the way you tried to suppress your amusement, but your lips flicked up at the sides, and you dropped your shoulders, seeming to give in. Your eyes rolled slightly, before you were moving once again, clearly trusting him enough to let him walk you over to his car, and he held your bags for you as you opened it, loading them into the trunk before slamming it shut, leaning against the cold metal. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, demons can only come up to the surface on H-”

“No, I don’t mean here.” You waved your arms, making a large circle that he supposed was supposed to represent the Earth, before you were pointing at the building behind you both, shaking your head. “I meant here. Like, the grocery store. Surely that’s wasting your one day.”

“Well, I met you, didn’t I, angel?”

“Stop being so.. flirty.” You shuffled uncomfortably under his stare, your true nature showing through, and a shock of thrill and excitement raced through him, tucking some hair behind your ear, before you shook him off. 

“Can’t help it. It’s in my nature. Lust, and the other ‘deadly’ sins, as such.” You didn’t reply, and as much as he hated to admit it, you were the most exciting thing that had happened to him in decades of Halloweens, so he gave in, moving a half-step away for you again to give you your space. “Not much to do at this hour, except kill people in alleyways. But, that’s not really my style.”

“I see.”

“Can I be brutally honest with you?”

“Have you lied to me, already? We’ve only known each other for twenty minutes. Then again, you are a sinner.” He chuckled at your pathetic jab, but shook his head in denial, soothing you a little. 

“Your life sucks.”

“It does not!” You crossed your arms over your chest, foot stomping a little, and it was an adorable display of anger if he was being true to his thoughts. 

“Yeah? Let me guess, you’re wearing scrubs so I reckon you work at a hospital or care facility, probably a volunteer too, or you do some kind of volunteer work to fill your time. You took a night shift tonight to cover for someone else, because you just can’t say ‘no’, even though you should’ve been inside keeping safe from ‘the likes of me’, as you put it, and I bet you’ve never even been kissed. You’re pure, completely and totally, you probably have a routine, oatmeal for breakfast, Church on Sundays, bible on the bedside table.”

You gaped at him, jaw hanging slack now, and he reached a finger up to push it closed, and you soon formed an irritated pout in response. 

“So, did I get anything wrong?”

“No.” You grumbled it under your breath, gritted out angrily, and he only laughed in response, winding you up further. Your foot swung out, colliding with his ankle before you even realised you were doing it, and as he bent over, crippled to grip at the sore patch in pain, your eyes went wide, fear suddenly flashing over your features again. I’m so sorry! I don’t know why I did that!”

“That would be wrath.” You shook your head, stepping away from him, and he could only nod in response, grin getting wider as he watched realisation flash across your features. “How did your first sin feel?”

“It doesn’t count! It was just a kick to the ankle!”

“Yes, in anger. That would be wrath, angel. It’s not that bad, trust me.” Your eyes were glassy now, and he placed a hand over your jaw, calloused pad stroking over the skin of your cheek as he tipped your head upwards. “See? No lightning strikes, no plagues, no punishments. And don’t you just feel so much better now that you’ve done it?”

“A little bit.” You gave in, letting his corruption really take place, and your eyes dropped down to find his, tearing your gaze away from dark and glittering skies. “I’m not a sinner, though. I’m good.”

“Yes, but this day is bad. Nobody is looking today. You liked it, I know you did. Don’t you want to try another sin? Just on this oh-so-evil day, and tomorrow, you can go back to being a good girl. Be bad with me today, angel?” You didn’t reject him, not right at once, and he took that as a good sign, your breath hitching as he stepped a little closer, enough for him to be able to taste the coffee on your breath at the short and sharp puffs you let out. “Have you never wondered? Which one have you always wanted to try, late at night, when it was just you and your thoughts? Is it pride? Gluttony?” He leaned in, enough to brush his lips with your own, your breath hitching in your throat. “Is it lust?”

“Sloth.”

“What?” He snapped back a little, not sure he’d ever really expected a response from you, and he felt a gleeful fire burn through you as you took your first step away from holiness and more towards him, just at the simple admittance, to both yourself and to him. Swallowing thickly, he watched as your mind spun, processing your own words, before you were seeming to settle on them with confidence. 

“I have a routine, just as you said. I get up early every morning, and have breakfast, and do some work. I volunteer at a shelter and I do rounds at the hospital even when it’s not my day in, just to pray with those who want some company, but some days I don’t want to. I’m tired, and I want to sleep in. I want to lay in bed until late morning, and fake calling in sick to work just to have a day off, to do anything I want.” You had your own smile now, something brand new flickering through your eyes, and as you looked at him, and he laughed breathlessly at the confession.

“So, do it.”

“I-” You seemed to remember who you were, and where you were, then disappointment took over. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s wrong.” He sighed, hand dropping down to your waist, pulling you closer into him, and he could feel the steady thumb of your racing heart against his chest now, and he wished his own would react at all, but it had been so long since he’d felt anything from the organ that he’d almost forgotten he had it at all. 

“If it’s so wrong then why does it feel so right?” You had no response to that, rendered breathless again, and he took his chance, pushing the boundaries a little further. “Give me this one day, I bet we can fit all seven sins into this day, when nobody will notice your sins when mixed with all the demons roaming the surface, and if you don’t like it, then I promise you’ll never see me again, and you’ll never have to think about it.”

“We can stop at any time?”

“Whenever you want.”

You hummed under your breath, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth, before caving and offering him a nod. “Big words for someone who only has twenty-one hours left of the day to keep his promises.”

“Well, then, we’d better get you home, angel. You have a big day coming up, and I know just which sin to start with. Let’s get you that late morning you’ve always wanted.” You merely sighed out, contented and happy with the thought, before you were nodding, and turning around to get into your car. Nodding to the passenger side, his grin only grew as he took the offer, climbing in beside you, and settling into the plush leather as the vehicle rumbled to life.

After an exceedingly long sleep in, one where you’d actually then continued to just lie in your bed for upwards of an hour after the daylight had forced away your grogginess, you were left peering out of the window, staring down at the city below from the high-windows of your apartment, the bustling streets with a chaos that didn’t reach all the way up here to the serene quiet, and your lips flicked up at the sides as you remembered the comment that the man who’ already managed to flip your world upside down had made as the two of you had finally made it back to your apartment at almost four in the morning

‘Top floor, huh? Trying to get closer to heaven, or just in it for the workout?’

Turning onto your side, his lips were parted as he slept, slow breaths and a sight rasp following his breath each tie, but not quite a snore. As he was asleep, you had a chance to really observe him. You’d never met a demon, before, you knew the rumours, of course, and some of them were more tame, auras of darkness and a twisted kind of ugly that made you repulsed. Of course, there were also the wilder ones, horns and hooves and rotting flesh, but he was neither.

When you took him in, you decided that he was actually kind of beautiful. Scruff lining his jaw that made him look a little wild - something that was bound to be intentional - and the colour of his eyes flashed through your mind once again even if they were coed now. The colour was burned into your mind, not a glowing red, or all black, but instead the kind of soft blue shade that the ocean looked on a misty morning at the beach, grey clouds overhead that were the calm before the storm.

He was taller than you, much taller, and his frame almost filled your bed, broad shoulders pushing you to one side, further over than you’d ever slept before, even on the large piece of furniture, but he’ insisted that he wasn’t sleeping on ‘no damn couch’, and in your exhaustion and excitement, you’d simply waved a hand as he kicked off his shoes, crawling under the covers beside you. The comfort had been inviting, you’d never experienced such a thing before, but it was oddly peaceful to share a bed with someone else, to feel their warmth creeping over to you as well, the steady thump of a heart or the rise and fall of a chest with every breath, and you hadn't realised how lonely you were until right now.

“Stop fuckin’ starin’ at me.” You huffed, watching as that peaceful expression became a scowl, and he rolled over towards you a little, cracking an eye open to peer up at you. “What?”

“Nothing! You’re just not like what I thought a demon would look like. I’m taking it in.”

He sat up a little, running a hand over his face, before shaking his he'd to try and clear a sleep-muddled brain. “Yeah, well, you’re exactly what I expected an angel to look like.”

“I don’t know whether that’s a compliment or an insult.” Despite the bickering going on between you both, his movements had caused the blankets to lip down, a chill coming in to claim you, and you shuffled a little closer to him, seeking out more of the warmth you’d become addicted to in the last few hours of sleeping beside him.

“It’s neither. Just a statement. Innocent, pretty, that whole weird ethereal vibe that draws you in. That's you.”

“That sounds like a compliment to me.” You all but sang the words, and he rolled his eyes, a grunt leaving him, but he made no move to distance himself from you, and so you knew it was all in false anger.

“I’m revisiting the idea of killing you.” His eyes flicked up to the large clock on the wall, studying it for a second, before turning to look at you incredulously. “I thought we were sleeping in? It's eleven.”

“I normally get up at six! This is late for me, very late.”

He only shrugged, pushing back the covers and standing up, letting you wrap yourself in them a little more, before he was patting down his pockets, searching for something in the jeans that had been abandoned on the bedroom floor. A cardboard box and a lighter, and he was balancing a cigarette between his lips.

“Open a window!”

He only glanced over at you, raising his brows, before stepping across the room to the large panels of glass, clicking off the lock and pushing one open, before flicking on the lighter and igniting the tip. He held it between two careful fingers, a repetitive motion as he brought it up and down from his lips, lips curling each time he expelled the smoke, and it was a weirdly hypnotic scene to watch.

The sound of the traffic and bustle from below was now reaching your ears, muffled and distant but you could still pick it up, the bitter smell of smoke still making it over to you, and your nose scrunched up a little, before you were holding the blanket closer to yourself, and making your way over to stand beside him.

“You’re staring at me like you’ve never seen a cigarette before.”

“I have!” He chuckled a little at your eager enthusiasm, heat rising to your cheeks with your embarrassment, and you shrugged as best you could, from where your hands were pressed to your chest to hold the blankets closed and keep your warmth in. “I’ve just never..”

“Smoked one?”

You only nodded, and he seemed to consider it, taking an extra-long drag, before he was pulling the dwindling stick away from his mouth, flipping it between two fingers, and bringing it to your mouth. He had an expectant look on his face, nothing pressuring or judgemental, simply apprehensive, waiting to see if you’d take the offer before the flickering orange reached his fingers and burned him. The taste was lingering on the air, and you leaned in, lip parted and he grinned, placing it gently on your lower lip, pushing forwards until the edge of his finger was brushing your lips, and he gave you a nod.

Sealing your mouth around it, you took in a deep breath, dragging the air through the device, and the heat that coursed through you was enough to make you pull away and cough, a tingling and burning in your throat and lungs as the smoke clouded out around you, dissipating in the air, and you once again flushed with embarrassment, but the laugh you anticipated hearing from him never came. Instead, he looked almost proud, and you didn’t have a chance to question it, before he was taking the last breath himself, stuffing it on your window frame and ignoring your complaint, before flicking the butt out of the window and closing it once again.

“So, what are we doing with the day now?”

“Hm, well, I promised you all seven. One down, six to go. I’m hungry, so let’s go with gluttony next.” His eyes twinkled a little, and you thought about the sparsely packed fridge you had, just enough simple necessities to get you by and be healthy, nothing that could be deemed even remotely gluttonous, but you were excited to experience it, nonetheless. “There’s a diner near here, we’ll go for breakfast.”

As promised, you are allowed to take even longer, the longest shower you had ever taken in your life, until the entire room was so filled with steam that it felt like a sauna, and you were pruning up. You didn’t even bother to make your bed, instead opting to just lay flat on it for a while, still in your towel as you listened to the demon you were - for some unknown reason - trusting, as he moved about your living room and tinkered with your things.

When you were finally ready, you didn’t care to make the bed, or put on sensible shoes with laces, or even do your hair properly. Instead, you wore a hoodie, and your comfiest flats, and just ran a brush through it, and you’d never felt lazier in your life. You had spent every day doing yourself up to standards and making sure you were being sensible and rational, the proper attire for a day at work, running around a hospital and doing everything you could for everyone else, and nothing for you, and today, you’d texted in saying you were sick and weren’t coming and you’d relaxed, truly relaxed, for what you felt may be the first time in your life.

As promised, you were given a filling breakfast, with more than enough leftovers for a week’s worth of breakfasts, but you didn’t take any of them. At first, it had bothered you, watching as the waitress stared at you both with a little bit of judgement, a little bit of shock, and a little bit of amusement as the man opposite you had listed off dish after dish, until you’d been moved to a bigger table just to accommodate it all. With a bite of it all, you’d worked your way through the dishes, and the drinks, a sip from all of their wide range of coffees and milkshakes, and by the time you’d finished and enough food to feed a small army had been wasted, you were wandering out into the carpark with a wide grin on your face.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this full.”

He turned to look at you, beaming as you spoke the words as though they’d been a compliment, and you began to pat your pockets down for your keys, a wave of panic washing over you when you couldn't find them. A moment later, there was a jingling, and you followed the sounds, to find Bucky waving them at you, smirking around the straw in his mouth as he finished his milkshake, tossing the to-go cup in the vague direction of the trashcan.

“When did you even take those? How did you take those?”

“I’m not exactly new to pick-pocketing.” He shrugged, holding open the passenger side door for you, and you hopped up inside of it, grinning as he rounded the car, and it would seem that he was taking it upon himself to drive. Once he was inside of the car and starting it up, his hands were fiddling with the dial for the music, changing your classical music station over to some soft rock, and while it was unfamiliar to you, you tried to settle into it.

“You’re different.”

“We’ve covered this.” He mumbled, fingers tapping against the steering wheel to the song that was playing, and you turned a little more towards him straining against the safety belt across your chest, and not missing the fact that he hadn't bothered with his own.

“No, I just mean, you’re gentlemanly. You held the door, paid for breakfast, didn’t try anything with me last night, even though we shared a bed. It’s admirable.”

“Well, firstly, I didn’t pay for breakfast.” Your face paled a little, realising you’d essentially stolen the meal, but then again, you shouldn't know better. When he told you to go ahead and that he’d been right behind you, you hadn't questioned it, and now, that felt like it was slapping you right in the face. That’s where innocence gets you, you supposed. “Secondly, as I said, we already covered this. You do know there’s, like, tiers for this shit, right?” You only gave a short laugh, turning to look at him a little, and you could already feel your own mischief bubbling up within you.

“You mean the seven circles of hell?”

“Oh, you’re so funny.” He was grumbling now, pretty-coloured eyes rolling in his head, and you continued to snicker away to yourself, but didn’t miss the little flicker of his lips into a smile, that he did his best attempt to disguise as a simple twitch, but you knew better. “No, not the ‘seven circles of hell’.” He imitated your movie as you spoke, a scowl taking over your features at the poor impersonation, but it was quickly washed away. “More like, privileges, I suppose? Those down there because they’re not pure enough to go to all things good and dandy go down below.”

“So, how does it work, then?” He cast you a little glance, studying you for a second, deeming you to have a genuine interest, before one shoulder was raising and falling in a simple shrug.

“Those who are, like, the bad kind of bad get it, well, bad. People who killed for fun, the people who hurt others for their own enjoyment, people who do, y’know..” He didn’t have to say it, your face screwing up as you thought about exactly the sort of people who would count as ‘bad-bad’ and he nodded. “No privileges for them. They just get to suffer.”

It went quiet for a second, and you could practically see the cogs working in your new friend's mind as he tried to sort his thoughts out.

“Then, there are people who did bad things, but it’s not serial-killer bad, y’know?”

“Oh, like tax-fraud and grand theft auto?” He let out a laugh this time, entertainment shining through.

“Technically, yes. I don’t really know how it all divides up. It’s just my job to punish people who need punishing, I don’t ask questions.” That caught your attention, and you perked up slightly, ignoring the fact that you’d pulled into your building’s parking lot, and that the rest of the journey was over, the car coming to a halt, but instead, you were more intrigued about finding out more from the man before you.

“You punish people? The bad people?”

“Yeah. I suppose you can consider today my day off.” He grinned, moving to climb out of the car, and you struggled to follow him, falling into step beside him.

“But, doesn’t that make you good? Getting justice and all?”

“I never said I wasn’t good, angel.” He cast you a look from the sides of his eyes, a little put off by the insinuation you’d made. “I’m created in hell. I don’t really have a soul, or anything that would let me into Heaven. Besides, I do enjoy doing some of the things that would get me cast out.”

“Like what?”

You regretted asking the question from the second you’d asked it, a smirk taking over his features, and he turned to you in the doorway, finger under your chin to hold your face up towards his as he leaned down a little, breath washing over your face as your heart froze in your chest. “Like fucking.”

He watched you, heat crawling up your cheeks as your eyes went even wider, and he grinned, eyes flicking down to your mouth, licking over his lips for just a second, before he was pulling away.

“We can get to that later, though.”

He was ahead of you, long legs making wide steps as he crossed the lobby to the elevator back up to your apartment, and you had to race just to catch up with him. “So, do you have horns?”

“What?”

You slipped in just as the doors to the elevator were closing, and he scowled, clearly having been hoping he’d be able to cut you off, and you almost wished he had, because you'd forgotten just how cramped his large frame made the small box feel. “Y’know, like-” you lifted up each hand to the top of your head, index fingers sticking up as the rest of the fingers curled into a fist. “-horns?”

“Do you have wings?”

You felt a little taken aback by his sneer, lips pursing as you realised he’d taken your joke the wrong way, and you passed by a few floors in silence, before he let out a deep sigh, shoulders slumping slightly.

“No, I don’t have horns.” He looked around the ceiling of the building when you stepped out of the elevator, a hand on your arm to bring you to a halt in the corridor, and he must’ve deemed it safe, before his fidgeting stopped. “I have something, but it’ll freak you out if I show you.”

“I can handle it.”

“I don’t think so, angel.” You huffed, and he continued on, car keys being used to find your house key, the door swinging open, and you followed after, complaints spilling from your lips as you did, and you caught the door as it swung closed, before it had a chance to hit you in the face.

“I can handle it! You're underestimating me!”

“Am I?” He was making himself comfortable once again, already going through the contents of your fridge, pulling back with the carton of orange juice, and you cringed as he popped the lid from it and took a swig right from the bottle. “You’re just a half-angel. You can’t take it.”

Anger boiled within you, and you weren’t sure where this side of him had come from. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

You gaped, jabbing an accusatory finger into his chest as he finished off the orange juice of your own that was supposed to last you all week. “I’ll have you know that I’m a lot stronger than you think. I work in a hospital, okay? I can take whatever twisted shit it is that you have to show me. I can take a lot of things, alright, pal? I think I do pretty well for myself, actually! I mean, if you haven’t noticed, you’re standing in my penthouse apartment, drinking orange juice that I bought, after recklessly driving my fancy car, so screw you. I can handle anything you could throw at me and more, you’re just rude.”

His head tipped to the side, and you let out a ragged breath, not giving him a chance to speak, before you were continuing;

“And, for that matter, I think I’ve done pretty well all around. I have a great job, and I do good work there, and I have spent over two decades avoiding the likes of you, living all on my own, so this little hitch that came in the form of you doesn’t matter, because even after today, I’ll still be doing pretty damn good. ‘Can’t take it’, yeah, well, you can shove your freaky demon thing that you refuse to show me somewhere that the sun doesn’t shine, okay?”

You huffed out, and he crossed his arms over his chest, neutral expression cracking out into a wide grin. “That was a great speech, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, well, thanks.” You were confused, caught off guard by the praise after you were given, your mind still spinning.

“You seem pretty happy with everything you have here. Would you say you take pride in it?” You almost retorted, a witty comeback at the tip of your tongue, before you realised what this had all been about, your shoulders slumping, and you dropped your head into your hands, a weak laugh on your lips and you climbed up onto one of the stools at your kitchen island.

“You got me all worked up into a rage for pride?”

“You’ve achieved some pretty amazing things in your life, and you should be proud of them anyway, even if it’s not for sin.”

You paused, eyes meeting his own, and for a second, the whole misconception of an angel and demon sitting across from one another being the kind of thing that would end worlds seemed to fade away, you were just a regular man and a woman, sharing the moment and sitting together on a lazy morning. He cleared his throat, looking around the room, not for anything particular, just to take it all in, before coming back to look at you, with something else in his eyes this time.

“Well, that’s another one crossed off of the list, anyway. I’d say we’re making pretty good progress.”

You only hummed under your breath, but he seemed to catch onto your hesitation, raising a brow at you. “Kinda’ have an idea about greed.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Do you think, maybe, you could take me there?” He stilled, the hand he’d been using to rearrange the salt and pepper holder in the middle of the marble countertop between you both fell flat.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hell. It’s literally Hell.” He was adamant on this one, not the same kind of cocky attitude he’d had while fracking pride out of you, but this was more just a complete close down on the situation, and he didn’t even have a flicker of emotion as you glared at him, standing strong in his decision. “You can’t handle it.”

“Seriously?”

“I’m not fucking with you this time, angel.” He stood up, rounding the little countertop to stand before you, and he rested his hips against it, one hand coming up to cup at your face gently. A thumb ran over your lower lip, his eyes tracing his own movements, and you pulled back from him a little, too angry to let him hold you so tenderly, even if something deep within you was craving that kind of contact and affection with him. “Too dangerous.”

“But I want to.” You pouted at him, ignoring the little smile he gave to you as you did, and he forced his gaze back up to meet your own, shaking his head.

“What if you get stuck down there, huh? Time works differently. If it passes midnight, you won’t be able to come back.” The thought did send a flash of fear through you, and he seemed to notice it, thinking that the argument was over. “Besides, down there is where everyone else gets to show their real faces. Where you’d see mine.”

“You could just show me now, and then I wouldn’t have any kind of surprise.”

You didn’t expect him to go for that, to buy it, and you gasped a little as the man before you changed. Soft and fluffy brown hair was longer, brushing around his shoulders in strands that weren’t tied back into a bun, faded blue almost entirely taken over by black irises. His eyes were sunken a little deeper, some teeth a little sharper, jaw a little more defined, giving a much more dangerous look, the kind of intimidating you were sure was done purposefully to scare those who needed to be scared, crafted in the bowels of hell to torture the people who deserved it.

A deep pink and puffy scar ran along from the middle of his cheek and into the stubble on the right hand of his face, emerging further down along his neck. The sleeve of his left arm seemed to strain a little more now, shining metal poking out from underneath, a mixture of battered metal and shining steel, metal digits forming a fist as you stared down at the appendage.

Reaching a hand out towards him, he huffed, pulling it away from you, leaning the entire left side of his body out of your reach. “What are you doing?”

You ignored him, taking the hand in both of your own, and the coolness of it sent shocks along your nerves, goosebumps rising on your skin. He let you lift it, inspecting each finger carefully, gears shifting under your touch each time a finger moved, and he sighed as you lifted the hand, resting it over your cheek again, the same way he’d had it only moments ago, when it had been under the illusion of flesh and blood. “You still don’t scare me, Bucky.”

He let out a laugh, a breathless one, before he was closing the distance between the two of you, lips meeting your own, and a small squeak left you as his mouth pressed to your own carefully. It was all entirely new to you, feeling his other hand find your waist, nails scratching lightly at your skin through the material of your shirt, before you were placing your own hands on his shoulders, grasping at his shirt as you moved your mouth with his own.

It was slightly awkward, and slow, and you could feel yourself fumbling, but as your eyes slipped closed and you matched his rhythm, you found everything within yourself slipping away. You hadn't quite realised what it would be like, to have another person pressed up so close to you, and to know how it felt when their eyelashes tickled your cheeks the way his were know, that feelings within your stomach like fireworks were going off was making you feel lightheaded, gasps for breath each time he pulled back, twisting his head, noses bumping, before softly swollen lips were finding you once again.

It was of their own accord that your hands slipped from his shoulders to his neck, one travelling even further into his hair, gripping tightly as you pushed up into him, almost falling from your chair as your legs went weak as you tried to stand a little, and he turned you around, lower back pressing into the cool marble for support, before a low growl sounded out. It reverberated along your entire body, and you trembled a little under his hold, teeth dragged over your lower lip, before he was pulling away.

You were chasing after him, feeling his grip loosen on you and you whined, catching his lips again in a little kiss, a chuckle breaking it as he backed away enough to rest his forehead on your own.

“Don’t be greedy. I’ll kiss you again, later.”

“Or, you could kiss me now?” You teased, letting him lift you up to sitting on the countertop, and he wrapped your legs around his waist, thumb smoothing over your cheek as he felt that same embarrassed warmth flood your skin. He pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw, using his nose to tilt your head back, before he was nipping lightly about the pulse point along your neck, and you weren’t in control of the sound that left you as he did, or the way your thighs tightened around his waist.

“I could, but, I thought you wanted to go to Hell.”

“I do.” You mumbled, before realising fully what he’d said, and you pulled him back by a handful of his shirt between his shoulder blades, darkened eyes finding yours in a curious gaze. “I do. Are you serious?”

“You have to promise to stay by my side.” You nodded, vehemently, a wide smile taking up on your face. “You also have to wear a watch.”

“I thought time worked differently?” You teased, and he rolled his eyes, taking your chin between his thumb and a metal forefinger, cutting off your laughs with a short kiss.

“It does, that’s the whole point. We need to know when to get you home.”

You only nodded, dropping down and disappearing, searching through your drawers and cabinets until you found the device you were looking for, checking its display against the wall clock on your bedroom wall, and thanking your lucky stars that it still displayed the correct time. You were attaching it to your wrist and waving it at him proudly as you reemerged, and he held his hand out for you.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Well, you only live once, right?” He huffed, fixing you with a pointed stare, and you burst out in a series of little laughs at your own words. “Well, some of us only live once, anyway.” He took your hand in his, barely letting you swipe up your keys before you were following him out of the door and back towards the stairs, stumbling over your own feet slightly. “Am I going to have to die for us to get there?”

“What? No. Why would you think that?” The crackling in his voice was amusement, and you shrugged, letting him guide you through the door that said ‘staff only’, and at this point, you’d stopped even questioning his actions.

“Well, I don’t exactly see a lot of portals to hell on my day-to-day travels.”

“It’s like a door that only demons can open. On this day, of all days. Sorta’ like a magnet, you just think about it, and it pulls you to where you're supposed to be.” It wasn’t exactly a description that set you at ease, and as you made it to the top of the staircase he was pulling you up, you were met with the sight of the sprawling skyline, the sounds of a busy city filled with people who were none the wiser to your current situation going about their mundane lives below, and even after today, you know you’d never be that same mundane person again.

Stepping out onto the roof, you were in awe, never having ventured up and gotten to appreciate it, and while your apartment was high up and the view was the same, it was more the experience that was leaving you speechless.

“Are you ready?”

When you followed the sound of his voice, he was standing on the edge of the building, hand held out to you once again, and you weren’t sure when you’d ever slipped away from him. You wandered over, nausea sweeping across you as you leaned over the edge to look down, the people on the streets below looking more like specks in the distance, and you pulled back rapidly. “To jump off the roof? That’s seriously the way to go?”

“It’s the fun way.”

You scoffed, knowing he was just doing it to mess with you, and he took your hands in his, guiding your gaze back up to his face. Wrapping your arms around his neck, and you held on tightly, feeling him grip your waist, pulling you in close.

“Just trust me, angel.”

For whatever reason, you did. You had full faith in a man who’d you’d only known for twelve hours, feeling him inch the two of you towards the edge, up onto the ledge, until you were precariously balanced, and your heart was threatening to beat right out of your chest. Pressing your face into his neck, his grip on you became bruising, and then you were falling.

The floor fell away, and you were racing downwards, hair whipping around your face as your eyes squeezed shut, that floating feeling becoming more like you were being dragged down. It was cold, biting cold, and utterly terrifying, and then it all just stopped. There was ground beneath your feet again, blood wasn’t pounding in your ears as you found yourself upright once again, and you were only dizzy from the way you’d held your breath, not from tumbling such a distance, and you forced yourself to exhale, slowly.

When you pulled away from him, the hand stroking soothingly up and down your back then stopped, and he lifted it to smooth down your hair instead. Whereas in your apartment, he’d seemed out of place and daunting in his own skin, now, he seemed to fit in perfectly. Shadows cast across his face made his features stand out, strong and bold, and instead of being scared you felt protected by his presence. It wasn’t nearly as loud as you’d expected it to be, and it was the exact opposite of what you’d pictured.

Instead of burning pits of fire and tortured screams, it was much like what Earth was, buildings and pathways and doors along each one, a reflection of the home you’d known so well, just with a little more destruction. He seemed to already know exactly what you were thinking, smirking his eyes a little, but you just accepted it, taking it all in. There was a bump against your lower leg, something soft that made you jump, and the man holding you chuckled. Turning, you watched a little cat run away. It had a torn ear and was missing an eye when it looked back at you, before it was dating through an open door before it closed, and you gaped a little as you lost sight of the orange-furred little critter.

“That was a cat.”

“Well, yes.” He deadpanned, hissing at the way you pinched his arm roughly for his words, and he mumbled under his breath about being careful before you ‘inadvertently achieved wrath’. “Haven’t you ever heard about cats being the guardians of the underworld?”

“In, like, Egyptian mythology, maybe.”

“Yeah, well, all myths and fables come from somewhere, right? Everything you’ve heard is just one interpretation of the same thing. Like versions of a story.” He offered, and you felt like every answer you got became all the more confusing, like you had no real idea about the world you’d been living in at all, until now. “C’mon. We have much to do, and little time.”

“What are we going to do?”

“You wanted to come here, that’s your choice.” He shrugged, and you gave him a blank look, as though you had any idea about what you were supposed to be doing. He seemed to pick up on it, a smile on his lips, before he was slinging an arm over your shoulders, and beginning to guide you away towards a door only a few down from one that you’d seen that little orange cat disappear through. When you got into the other side, you were in the hospital, the time seeming to move differently, everything around you flying by at super speed. “What’s the worst thing you ever witnessed in the hospital?”

“What?”

“The west thing. One of your patients, something you remember because it was just downright evil.” It took you a moment, but the worst one came to mind, and you felt sad witnessing it all over again.

“There was this man in here, once. Both he and the kid across from me were my patients. The kid was a car crash victim, both parents died, he was on life support, we were doing everything we could. If the kid died, he would have been the organ donor. The man smothered the kid in his sleep, we didn’t realise until the autopsy was done, by which point the guy had fled.” You shrugged, and he asked for the date, to which you mumbled, that day burned into your mind to last forever.

With a wave of his hand, that same speed that had been dizzying to watch as it moved like a movie on fast-forward was now frozen completely, and with a click, there was an entirely new setting.

Easter decorations, all around the hospital, Mercedes at the reception desk still had her hair dyed blue instead of her usual fiery red, the colour had taken a good couple of years to totally grow out; somehow, he’d taken you right back to the night that it had happened. Rainy, filled with clouds, water swilling around your car, and there was a loud storm outside. You remembered because it felt fitting, and it almost felt comforting when you’d cried in your car about it all before being able to drive home that night.

“Which room?”

“I, um, room three-oh-four.” You guided him through the halls, completely in awe of the way it resembled your place of work so clearly, and yet nobody could see it at all. You could see yourself, a younger version, standing behind the nurse's station and covering your yawn with your hand, a file in your hand as you tried to focus on it, and it was shocking to see it from such a different angle. You froze up a little as you approached the room, the two opposites, and you felt your heart crack a little at seeing that little boy alive once again, even if it was just barely. “That’s the guy.”

He followed the direction of your finger, a head of black hair in the bed across, idling himself on his phone, and Bucky stepped into the room, a sneer on his lips. Glancing at the name across the chart, he couldn't quite see it, but you already knew it anyway.

“Brock Rumlow.”

“Sounds like an asshole kinda’ name, already.” You could only nod, and just like that, Bucky was moving the timeline forwards again. Day to turned to night outside, you watched as he disappeared for a second, only to reappear a moment later, and then there was night becoming day, and he was taken to surgery, and the day flew by, bodies flying in and out, the flash of your own floral-patterned dress as you move in and out throughout the day, and then, a week later, he was leaving. It slowed, you watched as he went, following him right out of the hospital and into a cab, and he was none the wiser as in this turn of events, you and Bucky joined him.

It went by again, years flying back, Bucky’s eyes moving as he somehow seemed to see and understand every moment, before suddenly, it was all stopping. You were out of the cab, but when you left it, it was a firetruck instead. The building before you was burning, thick plumes of smoke curling up into the air, windows were broken as tall flames curled up and roared into the sky. Sirens were wailing, and water was spraying, and you could feel the heat even from here.

“Building fire.”

“Hm?” You twisted to look at him, and the demon beside you motioned up to the building.

“That’s how the universe got even with Brock Rumlow. He stole organs from a child, and he got trapped inside his apartment. He’s down here.” You felt your breath get stuck in your throat as he said those words, before you were finding his hand, gripping tightly with both, and his fingers curled back around your hand, before he was sighing, loudly. “Do you want to see him now?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, everything around you seeming to go into slow motion as he dulled the sounds, before you were pressing yourself into him a little more, feeling his lips brush against your temple as you let out a breathless laugh.

“I’ve thought so much about what I would do if I ever saw him again. Give him a piece of my mind, tell him how bad of a person he is, make him feel bad. Now, though, I’m not all that sure I could control myself.”

“Who says you have to?” You peered up at him, eyes wide, and he shrugged, cupping your face with both hands as he watched panic begin to take over you. “He’s a child killer, a selfish prick, he deserves everything he gets down here. This is a place for punishment, and maybe it’ll make you feel better.”

“Okay.”

He took your hand, the closest door to the two of you opening back up, and just like that, you were back in the stone hallways, crossing over to a wooden door, bolted from the outside, and as his hands wrapped around the handle, it changed, simplistic designs shifting to that of one you’d expect to see on a little farm cottage, before he was opening it up and ushering you inside.

“Where are we?”

“His Hell-scape.” The door scratched against cobblestones as it was pushed shut behind you. “Germany, early nineteen forties, the precipice of modern medicine. It’s cold, and he’s fled from the war, he’s taking shelter in a little farm cottage. He needs surgery, and you’re about to perform it. There’s a kid, who could donate the blood, he’s sitting over there by the fireplace.”

Just as he said that, the door swung open once again, and there he was, stumbling inside as blood seeped between his fingers, and just like that, for the first-ever time in one of these scenarios, he was looking you dead in the eyes. He begged for help, and the little boy by the fireplace looked up, wide eyes and he was on his feet, dashing over to you. He cleared the table, helping the man to lie down, like the good little soul he was, and you ushered him away upstairs. With a knife from the kitchen, you sliced open the front of his shirt, watching as blood oozed out of several bullet wounds across his front.

Blood spewed out, and for a second, guilt washed over you as you hesitated in your motions to save him, but then you were remembering everything he’d done, and you could feel the presence of Bucky behind you, the scene you’d relieved as you watched the evil take place, and you felt no regret as you pushed a finger against one of the wounds. Hard metal met your finger, blood-curdling screams from him on the table as you pushed it even deeper, before pulling away, and making sure that he was looking you in the eyes as he did.

You weren’t sure if he was able to recognise you, or whether he was completely engrossed inside of this illusion, but you swore you saw something pass over his eyes, seconds before he was passing out. Little feet were coming down the stairs, and the boy was there again, watching rivers of blood dripping into puddles as they ran from the tabletop, a teddy tucked safely in his arms as he looked up to you again.

“Are we going to save his life?”

“No.” You hummed, wiping your hands on a rag, and it was shockingly different to see the way the boy whose eye colour you’d never seen before looked, how young he really was, and you took him by the hand as you guided him up the stairs. Tucking him in and brushing the hair back out of his face, you pressed a kiss to his forehead, and he fell asleep before your eyes, chest rising and falling of its own accord. It wasn’t real, you felt it slipping away under your fingers, and when you made it back down the stairs, the man on the table was dead, hand hanging limp, and it all slipped away.

Darkness filled the room, the features melted away, and he guided you back to the corridors, tears sliding down your cheeks as you left it all behind.

There was concern on his face when he looked at you, but you didn’t care, because you were pulling him in by a fistful of his shirt in order to press desperate and needy kisses to his lips. He reciprocated, humming happily as his hands found your hips, smoothing around towards your back, one warm and one cold as they pressed to you, and your wet cheeks pressed to his, gasping breaths as you sought out comfort in his touch.

“Are you okay?

“I’ve never felt like this before.” He pulled back, whining a little when you kept pressing up into him, and he pushed you back a little bit, ignoring your complaints. “It’s a rush, and it felt bad but only for a second, before it felt right. Not to hurt someone else, but to serve justice. I love saving lives, I do, but that felt incredible. It felt like closure.”

“You officially checked off wrath, angel.”

“I don’t think you can call me that anymore.” You teased, and he shook his head, pulling you in close enough to brush his lips against your own. It was a fleeting kiss, something that left you desperately craving more as you burned up from the inside out.

“You’re always gonna’ be my little Halloween angel.” He grinned, trying to wipe your cheeks dry.

“I think I’m checking off envy, too.” He beamed, raising his brows in silent questioning, and you gave him a lame shrug of your shoulders in response. “I just don’t think I could go back to my regular life and be happy now, knowing there’s so much more that I could be experiencing. My job won’t be fulfilling when I know how much better it would be to do yours, and be here. I hate that you don’t worry about anything, that you haven't spent your whole life worrying if you're good enough to get into somewhere only to spend the rest of eternity keeping up those standards. I wouldn’t have to be anyone but my true self here, and now, I’m not even sure if I know who that is.”

“You could find out, though.”

“Also, there’s a girl over there who keeps looking at you and I don’t like it.” He glanced over his shoulder, noting the pretty demon who was waving at him, tight curls and red lipstick and she looked like she was straight out of the world war’s era, but then again, everybody down here seemed to be fixed in some kind of time period or another.

“Envy doesn’t suit you, angel. You much more suit pride.”

His fingertips pressed into your sides a little, tickling you lightly, and you grinned, mind leaving her as you came crashing back into a world where only you and he existed. Dipping down, his nose brushed with yours, and you closed the gap, sighing out happily when you felt the rough prickles of his beard under your palm, the other hand sliding down to rest on his chest.

The tip of a tongue traced your lower lip, and you gasped at the feeling, before his tongue was pressing through the parting and into your mouth, a needy noise slipping from you before you could control it, leaving you feeling like you were floating within the clouds as you fell even further into him. You were pressed up to him now, bodies colliding, and what was once slow and sensual suddenly felt like it was rushed and frantic. Mouths meshing, growls and whines shared between you both and you were ruining the neat bun in his hair as your hands were pushed into his mouth.

His hands were exploring too, further than they’d ever been, one solid and one fleshy and then there was a warm palm gripping tightly at your ass, squeezing the flesh there roughly, and you keened up into him even further. Metal lifted you up, your legs fastening around his waist automatically, and you could feel him moving as you gripped onto him roughly. One hand digging nails into his shoulder as the other tugged on a fistful of his hair, a ragged moan leaving his lips as the two of you stumbled through the nearest doorway. Bedsheets found your back, and you were breathing clearly again as a hot mouth travelled along your jaw.

Stinging skin, drags of his teeth over heated flesh, and you were living in a world you’d never been in before as you felt those same hands now dip underneath your shirt, beginning to push it up as he adventured further.

“Where are we?” You mumbled, eyes fixed on the low hanging lighting extension from the ceiling, and he pulled back from the mark he was working to leave on your collarbone, an incredulous look on his face as he peered up at you. Swollen and shiny lips, half-lidded eyes, and a slight shine to his skin that paired with his messy hair made him look even more sinful than he usually did.

“My, uh, my room?” You sat up a little more to take it in, and he leaned back from where he was balanced over you, letting you take it all in.

“How convenient that all the doors you need are so close together.” He grinned, shaking his head in a way that made you think you were missing something, and he pulled you to sit up a little more, the haze over you both clearing slightly.

“Sweetheart, most of the doors work like the entrances, you just have to think about where you’re going, and you go there.”

It was like your world was clearing up, and as he knelt back, you moved forwards enough to settle into his lap, a soft giggle leaving you when you felt his hands come down to grip at your ass to keep you balanced, a smirk on his face as you did. “I was kinda’ expecting, like, bones on the wall, dungeons, dark, flickering torches, the whole shebang. I’m almost disappointed that it looks like a normal bedroom.”

“You have a bad habit of believing stereotypes.” He muttered, leaning in again to take your lower lip between his teeth, tugging on it lightly, and you keened up into him, finding the mattress either side of you dipping a little as he held himself up over you. “And I thought that after everything we’d done today, you’d have reconsidered it all.”

“Well, after all we’ve done today, I still have one sin left to complete.”

He grinned, nodding his head before his mouth was closing over your own. With one warm hand gently pushing up the edge of your shirt, you let him take it, sitting up just enough to let him peel the material from your body, before he was kissing along your neck, licking and sucking his way along the flesh until it was stained with blotchy red marks that would blossom into purple bruises sooner or later.

Then, as his fingers brushed over the delicate skin of your ribs, he was letting out a breathy laugh, pulling away once his lips were grazing the edge of your bra.

“Angel, I gotta’ be honest with you. I really like you, I do, but this bra is awful.”

You looked down at yourself, head clearing for just a second, before you were groaning, shaking your head as you looked down at the garment strapped to your body. “I don’t own any other bras! They’re practical, they support me at work. I’ve never really had a reason to own fancy underwear."

You were popped up on your elbows, and he grinned wickedly, metal hand undoing the catch with a simple flick of his fingers, and then it was falling loose. “Bet you’re wearing cute little white cotton panties, too, huh?”

You could only nod, feeling a blush beginning to climb onto your cheekbones, and it was a feeling you were rapidly growing familiar with while being in his presence.

“You drive me insane, in all your innocence. Am I the first person to get near your sweet little cunt? Tell me I am, angel.”

“You are.” You were breathless, everything from the way his lips curled around the words, to the sound of his voice, right to the way his eyes raked over you in a way that could only be described as predatorily, made your body burst out in flames, craving something you didn’t even know, but you just knew you needed him to keep going, to continue with whatever it was he was doing, because he had you floating on Cloud Nine.

“I’m gonna’ take such good care of you, I promise.” As he pulled the material away from your chest, that heat was spreading down, along your neck, and yet you didn't feel anything but powerful under his gaze. You’d never expected to have this kind of life, after hearing from your mother what had happened to your father for his sins, you were determined not to follow that path, but now, you wanted it all. You didn’t care about standards and responsibilities, you just wanted to drown in the way his tongue was dragging along your stomach as he left wet kisses along your skin, until he was mouthing at the place just above your jeans, soft skin teased with lips and teeth, until he was popping the button on your jeans carefully.

He took it all, stripping you down and taking his time, mumbling praises into your skin until there was nothing else clad on you, except for the slip of cotton over your core, and he was kneeling back at the end of the bed, two large hands palming at your thighs, and he licked over his lip, dragging the lower between his teeth roughly.

“Fucking hell, angel, you’re drippin’.” A single digit, lifting to brush over your covered folds, and as you were touched so intimately, you couldn't help the gasp that slipped from you. “Ruining your panties, sweetheart, soaking right through ‘em.”

“Please.”

He looked up as you whispered the words, eyes already blown out dark with lust, the grey-blue colour you so deeply adored was almost entirely gone, and it was like the tension in the room shot up even further. “Do you even know what you’re asking for, angel, or do you just want more?”

There was a teasing undertone laced in his voice, and you would’ve commented on it, snapped back at him for his taunt, had it not been for the way he lifted that finger up, knuckle brushing over the pulsing bud between your legs, and then he was circling it, a dull pressure applied, and your hips left the bed as your back arched. “That! I want more of that.”

“So fucking pretty, all needy and beggin’ for me, already.” He switched his positions, instead of a knuckle, it was the flat of a finger, and you were already shaking under his touch as your entire body lit up with fireworks. “Are you sure you want to do this? Once we do, there’s no going back. You don’t want to save yourself for someone special?”

“I’m already with someone special.”

His motions paused, before a slightly bashful smile took over his face, and you giggled upon looking at him, sitting up enough to take his face in your hands, moaning against his lips as he picked his movements back up, just to drive you crazy. “You sweet-talkin’ me, angel?”

“Nobody would ever believe me if I could make a demon blush.”

“Just something about you. Don’t know what it is, but you drive me crazy.” He whispered, closing the distance as you continued to test him, a sloppy kiss that was more collisions of lips and tongue, and you could barely keep up. You were so focused on the way it felt to be utterly surrounded by every inch of him that you didn’t feel him move until the barrier of fabric was gone, tearing meeting your ears and then there was nothing between you both, a calloused finger gathering the wetness you’d built up, slick on his finger, and your breath hitched as the tip of that same warm digit traced your entrance.

Anticipation, anxiety, and slight fear washed over you, and he seemed to sense it, from the way that you tensed up, before he was pushing you back down to lay in the bedding, body pressed to your own. You were tugging at the shirt on his shoulders, whining a little, before he let you pull it up, holding himself up long enough for you to strip it away.

“Let me open you up, okay? Get you ready, I don’t want to hurt you.”

Stealing a final kiss, he distracted you, the way a finger slipped inside was something entirely new, your closed eyes snapping open again, and he let out a long and deep sound into your mouth, feeling every inch of your walls clamp up around his intruding finger, wet and velvet and enticing. He pumped it slowly, a wince on your face at the pull at your entrance, before you forced yourself to take a deep breath, focusing instead on the way his lips felt on your skin, and the way it felt when your bare flesh was gliding over his.

Erotic, sweat built up that made your skin stick against his in the most arousing way, the dips between his muscles shining, making everything about him stand out even more prominently, and you had never allowed yourself to consider a man as particularly attractive before, but now you were seeing through a whole new gaze, you were certain it couldn't get much better than him. Sharp jaw, pretty features, broad shoulders and a mouth to give up all innocence for, you couldn't even blame yourself for giving everything up to him.

There was a curling of his finger, the blunt nail dragging over your walls, and a shudder ran along your entire body as he did, a cry of his name leaving your lips, and suddenly, the final puzzle seemed to click into place. There was something romantic about offering yourself up to someone like this, something incredibly intimate about the way it felt to let yours be this vulnerable under someone else’s gaze, and you had never felt anything like this in your entire life.

A twisting in your lower belly, muscles clenching, and then another sting, a second finger sliding into you with ease as you all but dripped for him, the pain far more tolerable and even a little bit pleasurable this time around, before you were stretched around two thick fingers, barely processing the words he was offering to you, because your vision was going fuzzy and you felt like you’d left all forms of reality that you’d ever known.

Hands clenched in the sheets, tugging them roughly as you stiffened, and a soothingly cold hand pressed down on your chest, you hadn't realised your heart was racing and you were dragging in desperate breaths until the weight of the limb forced you to calm down. Bringing a hand up, you clung to him, frantic for some kind of grounding connection as you felt the rest of your inhibitions slip away. It felt like you were breaking down that final gate, like you were bursting from a cage, freedom and liberation and a feeling you’d never had before but were already addicted to the taste of.

Your throat stung, eyes burning from unshed tears, before he was pulling those fingers from you, an obscene slurping finding your ears, and you weren’t sure when your eyes had rolled back, or when your body had left the bedding, but when you collapsed back down into the soft cushions, with deep and raspy breaths, and forced your eyes open, he was licking crudely at his fingers, watching you carefully, something between caring and cocky stitched into his features.

“What just happened?”

“You just had your first orgasm, baby. How’d it feel?” He wiggled his brows, a smile that made you laugh, and you were still trembling, forcing yourself to relax as you melted into the blankets and untangled your fingers, surprised you hadn't ripped them entirely.

“I loved it.”

“Good.” The tip of his nose bumped against your own, and yet he never granted you a kiss, swerving away just long enough to settle himself between your thighs. “So much I want to do to you, so little time.”

He tutted to himself, and the denim of his jeans brushed over your sensitive centre as he dipped his head down. You weren’t sure where to focus, whether you were meant to fix your attention on the way his lips seal around one perky bud of a nipple, or the way you were meeting him roll for roll as you ruined the front of his jeans, material growing damp with your juices as you pleasured yourself, broken noises let out into the air as he abused your chest, switching between your breasts until he was satisfied with the way he’d left your skin spit-slick and shining.

A hand in his hair, you dared to take control, sick of waiting, and just wanting to get to the main event, what you did now know, and you needed it more than you’d ever needed anything in your entire life. You hadn't felt truly alive, or comfortable in your own body, until this moment, as he brought you to life and made you see stars, gave you things you’d never even known existed.

“Bucky, please. I can’t take waiting any longer.”

“Okay, angel. I got you, I know what you need.” He managed to peel himself away, a cool breeze sweeping in where he’d once been before he was stripping himself down of the remaining garments covering his body, and you felt your mouth go dry as he was finally revealed to you. He may have been crafted in hell, the epitome of sin and debauchery, and you weren’t surprised that so many people gave up on their purity to give in to lust, because you were just as weak as the rest of them as you looked at him.

Toned and tanned flesh, tapering down from broad shoulders to a narrow waist, defined muscles, sinewy skin and prominent veins, before a hard and leaking cock as bobbing in the air before you. He seemed to know you were admiring him, taking in every detail and committing it to memory, because he flexed a little, a look on his face that you were oh-so-familiar with, before you were reaching out to him.

He was happy to crawl into your arms, lifting your legs onto his waist, sticky pre-cum smearing across your thigh, before he was dipping into your wetness, gathering it up as he rocked his length against your folds, shared breath turning to pants as his forehead rested to your own. “Before we do this, I just wanted to say something.”

“Hm, don’t tell me you secretly have a tail that only comes out when you cum.”

He shook, his entire body wracked by the laugh that he let out, and he pulled back far enough that you could see the sparkle in his eyes, before he was shaking his head, a series of pecks pressed to your lips between muffled giggled from the pair of you, until you managed to calm down. “No, sorry to ruin another one of your predetermined opinions on demons.”

“I’ll get over it.”

He delivered a particularly sharp thrust, the tip of his cock bumping your clit, making your jerk in his hold, and you encouraged him on quickly, the scrape of your nails along his back making him hiss out. “I wanted to say that I haven’t felt like this in centuries, you’ve flipped your whole world upside down in just twenty-four hours. I wanted you to know that this is special, between me and you, just so you don’t regret it in a few days, when you think about us, when you're back home in your fancy apartment and living your normal life.”

“I’ve never felt more alive than when I’m with you.”

He took the compliment, not bothering to reply, but leaning in to take your lips with his own in a passionate kiss, as another hand slipped between your bodies to line himself up, before he was inching into you, taking his time and making sure not to hurt you. When he saw your face screw up, his hand caught yours, fingers weaving together and pressing back into the mattress, confirming that he was with you, an apology for the pain and a promise that it would go away without him even having to speak.

As his hips finally came to press to your own, you were holding back a sob, the wide girth and length he had were far more than his fingers had been, and while you’d stretched to accommodate him, it was still a new struggle, and you let out a low breath, feeling the soft presses of pecks along your cheeks and jaw, as he waited patiently. There was tension in his body, from top to bottom, feeling his muscles clench under your hands, and you rolled your hips experimentally.

A shot of pain, a whimper from your lips, but you weren't sure if that sound came from the sharp pain or the heated pleasure, a burst of it from within you, and your jaw dropped, and he let out a ragged sound, face pressed into your neck. “Holy shit, angel, you’re squeezin’ me like a fucking vice, tightest damn pussy I’ve ever known. Perfect, just like the rest of you.”

You grinned, hating the way that his filthy words could slide right into something endearingly sweet that had your stomach flipping and your heart skipping beats, all within in a split-second. “You can move now, it’s okay.”

He only gave a short nod, before he was doing as you offered, pulling back just enough to press back into you, a shallow thrust that didn’t offer much, drawn-out and delicate, but then there was another, stronger and faster, and he moved slowly, inch by inch each time, until he was pulling himself from you almost completely, and sinking back into your sodden heat.

“Oh, fuck.”

He bit down on your shoulder as you swore, cursing himself under his breath, tongue lapping over the spot. When he raised his head, there were wisps of brown hair plastered to his forehead, messy and tangled and you thought he looked stunning this way. Pink flushed cheeks, wide eyes, glistening skin, it was almost angelic, and there were certainly bits of him that made you question his allegiance, but then again, in the span of just one day, he’d made you question absolutely everything you ever knew.

Deep and fast thrusts, and you could feel every throb, every drag of him within you, each time he pulled away just to sheath himself within you once again, and you could feel your own throat stinging with the continuous loops of noises that you were letting out for him. He shifted, slowing for just a second, before one of your legs was being hiked up from his waist to his shoulder, and then, it was getting even better.

You thought he’d shown you the height of pleasure, that the feeling of being connected with him in such a way was all that it could be, but then he was reaching all new depth that made you scream. You couldn't take it, the continuous pounding on that little patch that made everything go blank. Stars in your eyes, white noise that barely let through the sounds of his loud moans and sobs of pleasure, but you could feel him coming undone atop of you, the way his pace faltered and his arm gave way, pressing you into the bed as he lost all semblance of self-control.

He was fucking into you without mercy, and you knew you’d be sore in the morning but right now you needed more. Your heel was digging into his lower back as you came unravelled once again, a peak crashing over you that was ten times stronger than the first had been and you were clinging to him like he was your only lifeline. Fingertips were digging into his flesh, nails raking red welts into his skin and he was growling and grunting, before gripping you with a hold so tight it was bruising, and a whole new kind of warmth washed over you.

His heavy-weight collapsing onto you was enough to warm you from the outside, but then he was spilling deep within you, a broken sound that tailed off at the end as his voice cracked, and you decided that in that exact moment, if you never got to experience anything this good ever again, you’d always cherish exactly how it felt to be marked and claimed as his, to know that no matter what, a little piece of your heart and soul would always belong to him, and him to you.

When he finally stopped moving, he didn’t pull out, but instead, rolled the two of you over until you were cushioned against his chest, and cheek pressed over the racing heart under his chest, and you grinned to yourself at knowing that you could make his heart do that, the organ he hadn't felt used in so long was now in overdrive under his ribs, and it was all for you. It wasn’t love, it couldn't be, it had only been a day; infatuation, curiosity, adoration, a range of emotions flooded through you but it was the possibility of something entirely new, and you thought it was perfect.

Clearly, he was feeling it too, because when you finally moved away from him, his eyes opened again, a weak sound of protest coming from him as you removed yourself from his body, laying down beside him, and sitting up a little, offering him a smile as he watched you. “Don’t leave yet. Stay with me a few more minutes.”

“I’m not going anywhere just yet, don’t you worry.” He was put at ease by that, you could see it from the way his shoulders slumped, and the breath he let out, before his arms were circling your waist and he was collapsing down against you.

You may never get into the version of ‘Heaven’ you’d always believed you were destined for, but this was more than that, it was everything you never knew you needed. Bringing a hand up to his hair, you wove your fingers into the damp strands, and he rumbled blissfully at the feeling, nuzzling further into your body as he did.

The rough stubble on his cheeks tickled you, made you want to shove him away and laugh out loud, but you wanted to hold him and comfort him more, the man overwhelmingly clingy after being intimate, and you treasured it. You had no experience to compare anything to, he was the master here, and you were learning everything, and you were sure to him that was like learning to walk while he was running marathons and doing hurdles, but he was patient and kind, and it was just another thing you’d assumed wrong about him.

Twenty-four hours ago you were someone completely different. Pure, and innocent, and completely unaware of the world you were a part of, and now, you never wanted to go back. He’d made you a promise that everything could be forgotten by midnight if you didn’t like it, but you wanted these memories and these moments burned into your mind forever, never to be taken away from you, so you’d always live in the time that your life changed for the better.

“So, I get it now.”

“Get what, sweetheart?” His words were given to you in a whisper, from where his cheek was pressed to your stomach, and you continued his hair, enjoying the happy rumble he let out as you did. The watch on your wrist showed the time, and you watched as he checked it, letting out a disgruntled little huff, before he was squeezing you a little tighter once again.

“Lust. Why so many people give in to it. That was incredible.”

“It only gets better. Didn’t want to break you on your first time, though.” He pressed a kiss to your skin, snickering as you scoffed at his words, and then he was pulling away far enough to sit up. You could see the scarring along his left shoulder so much clearer now, metal meeting flesh, bound with red scarring that marred beautiful golden skin, and yet his imperfections only made him seem even more perfect to you. “Maybe next year we’ll explore some more.”

“Next year?”

“Halloween is almost over, sweetheart.” You let him crawl further up your body, searching for your lips with his own until he wound his way home, and you flopped back into the pillows, taking him with you, breathless laughs expelled into both mouths until he was pulling away. “Mhm, no. When you kiss me like that, we get carried away.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, I like to think I can hold out, and I don’t think we could get everything I want to do to you done within six minutes.” He sighed dramatically, before rolling off of you and onto the bed beside you.

“What if we had more than six minutes?” He twisted his head studying you for a minute, before his lips were parting, and he was pulling your hands from where you were picking at the loose threads on the bedsheets, and he was bringing your knuckles to his mouth, gentle kisses pressed to them.

“Don’t speak in riddles, we don’t have the time for that.”

“What if I stayed?”

He sat up a little more, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “You know if you stay, this is the only place you’ll ever end up. Even if you left next year, even if you decided not to be here anymore, while you still have your life. You’ll never get into Heaven. You only have three minutes to make a decision that’ll decide the rest of your life.”

“I think I’ve already made it.” Something eerily similar to hope flickering between your eyes, and you only gave him a sweet grin, before his face was cracking open in a wide beam, and he was lunging at you again. “What did Heaven ever do for me anyway? I think I’d much rather stay and be a sinner here with you.”

He bumped the tip of his nose against yours, before moving down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, pausing for long enough to speak; “Maybe, but you’ll always be my angel.”