#white jacket with zippers and wooden ???

[callmeblake]

Sources (1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6) endlessnight on twitter/X

Frank Iero in Rock Sound 310

Photo Credit: Mitchell Wojcik

[bigboysfalldeep]

the jacket - brain wash

It's late at night when Antonio walks through the parking garage in the middle of town. He's walking towards his car after clubbing with a few friends. A little tipsy on his feet, he notices his phone ringing in his pocket. Antonio stops and checks his phone. Just a newsletter email. He frowns when he hears steps approaching him from behind.

Looking up, he notices a young guy walking right towards him. Somehow, he looks familiar, but he can't tell why.

At first, he thought he would just pass him, but no. The man stops about two steps in front of Antonio. "Can I, eh, help you?" He says it curiously, while the man just looks at him. Nervously, he opens his mouth to ask him again, but his eyes instinctively wander down the man's upper body. He's wearing a dark leather jacket, a white shirt, jeans, and black Nikes. Just like a normal guy. Something, however, seems different. His skin looks cold, and his eyes are shining faintly and vacant. "Can I.." Antonio asks again, but the man interrupts him. "I think so." The man says his voice is so smooth, deep, and alluring, drawing Antonio in right away. "Huh"? He says this as the man approaches him again. About two feet away, the man stops again, and at this point, a weird smell hovers all around him. A sharp wooden smell cuts through the air, right towards Antonio. "What is that smell?" He says this, taking a deep breath. "You like that?" The man says, his voice so deep again, sending shivers down Antonio's spine. "Yeah." He holds back a soft moan, closing his eyes to stay focused. The smell gets even more invasive, and he tries to shake it off. But when he opens his eyes again, the man stands right in front of him, staring into his eyes.

Flinching, he tries to pull away, but something inside those beautiful, shining eyes holds him in place. "It's the jacket, see?" The man looks down, and Antonio follows his gaze towards the black leather jacket. He watches the man touch the jacket at the zipper, running his fingers down the thin fabric to the end. Underneath, he spots the man's bulge growing inside his tight jeans.

A little weirded out, Antonio focuses on the fingers now running up that zipper all the way to the collar. "Want to touch it?" The man lifts his chin and gaze, and without looking at him, Antonio moves his hand and does the same as the man did before. Again and again. The fabric feels soft, like it is clinging to his skin. A warm feeling spreads through his fingers, his hand, and his arm. A weird but calming feeling.

Antonio opens his mouth, but no words come out; instead, he lets out a guttural growl. "You like that?" The man's voice cuts through his thoughts, and he lifts his head to meet his gaze. Unable to speak, he just nods. "Put it on." The man starts undressing, exposing his beefy arms and shoulders, causing Antonio to gasp breathlessly. That man is so pretty and so hot, and he wants him to wear that beautiful jacket? He feels himself growing harder by the second, the smell still hovering all around them both. "Take it," the man demands, and without hesitation, Antonio takes it.

Still looking into the man's gorgeous eyes, he waits for another command. The man takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and smiles softly.

"Put it on." At this point, Antonio remembers that guy. He talked to one of his friends at the party, trying to get them to leave with him, but they refused.

Then, their eyes met for the first time, and he instantly felt drawn to this beautiful man. But it wasn't long or close enough to have a real effect on him, but right now, right here, there is no denying how attracted he is to this stranger.

"Put it on." The man speaks slowly and opens his eyes. Theyre still vacant, yet so piercing, cutting through his mind and soul.

Antonio flinches at first, but then he puts that jacket on. One arm at a time, he slides into it. It feels like two sizes too large at first, but the wonderful smell makes up for it.

The man was right; the jacket is the source of the alluring scent. "Feels good?" The man tilts his head and leaves his mouth slightly hanging open.

"So good." Antonio lets out another quick moan when his arms start to feel weird. Some kind of heat is radiating from the leather, running up his arms to his shoulders. "What is this feeling?" He says this, swallowing a few of his words. "Feels good, doesn't it?" The man says it in a monotone voice before placing a hand on his chest. He touches him through the leather jacket, and in a second, the warmth spread even quicker, running along his spine all over his back. "What are you doing?" Antonio says that once the man claws into his chest, it doesn't hurt; instead, the fabric of the jacket starts moving, adjusting itself to Antonio's lighter form—a sensational feeling.

The leather gets tighter, closing in on his skin, making all of his muscles bulge harshly. The sleeves are now clinging to his arms, biceps, and shoulders, while the same happens to his chest. Antonio's body starts vibrating as the jacket starts to move even closer, putting pressure on his entire physique. "Fuuuuck." Antonio lets out a long, low moan, while the man now strokes his chest through the jacket.

"Feels good, yeah?" He says it again, in the same dull tone. It doesn't feel like he is really there, a mere shell of his former self. Unable to stay focused, he lowers his gaze, noticing the man's dick now twitching in his pants, a huge wet spot already staining them. At the same time, he gets harder too, with his cock standing at attention, pressing against the fabric of his white trousers. With that smell, that pressure, and the man's aura clouding his thoughts, Antonio tries to pull away one last time, but a firm grip on his neck keeps him standing there. The man must have noticed this, and while stroking him, he put his other hand at Antonio's neck. Right on time, something else starts to radiate from that jacket. The warmth is now making its way through Antonio's body, while sparks of pain and pleasure shoot through his arms and down his spine.

"Let me go, please." Antonio begs, looking at the man who is staring at him, his eyes unfocused yet still so pretty. "Don't fight it. It's much better now." He says, so smooth once more, a part of that former man's self. "Just let it take you." The man starts drooling as he softly thrusts once, twice, his throbbing dick staining his pants more and more.

At the sight of this man reaching his climax, he grabs himself firmly and leans his head back, groaning loudly. A sharp bolt of pain cuts through his spine right into his brain. A message, a command. "Give in. Don't fight me. I need you. Youre mine." Multiple thoughts rush through his brain. It's not the man's voice, but a harsher one, demanding that he follow its words. "Be mine. Give in. So easy. Just relax." 

Antonio shakes his head; he's not done yet. He tries to fight harder, but he doesn't even notice that his body isn't following him anymore. His hands are now moving freely, one hand jerking his dickens through his pants and the other stroking his own chest firmly, making it way harder to focus. "Give in to it. Give it what it wants." The man moans deeply, leaning in, his mouth just inches apart from Antonios. At the same time, he also grabs Antonio's twitching cock, and together they move rhythmically. "Be mine. Give in. Now." The man breathes into his mouth, rubbing Antonio's bulge with the palm of his hand.

Then, the jacket grows even tighter around his chest, making it even harder to breathe properly, and for a while, it feels like he's going to suffocate. "So easy." The man breathes again, right into his mouth. Until all of it stops, His body gets stiffer and more rigid than ever before, and it starts twitching. Antonio thrusts into their hands again and again as his cock shoots massive loads over and over again.

"Thats good." The man's deep voice causes Antonio to moan and groan loudly, his screams echoing through the parking garage. For what feels like eternity, his body moves again and again, and even though hes already running dry, his dick still erupts.

"Feels good?" The man runs a hand down his chest and back to his thick dick. A huge wet spot spread across his crotch. Both of their pants are sticky and sweaty, filled with their precious cum.

Antonio then regains his composure and looks at the man. Their eyes are now the same, their minds gone, under that jacket's control.

"It feels good, yes." He says, leaning in, placing a single kiss on the man's lips. They make out for a minute, touching their bodies, their dicks still bulging against their pants.

"Let's go home," Antonio says, his beautiful voice now duller yet more alluring. "Yes Master." The other man says so obediently, and they walk towards Antonio's car.

[kscosplaycatalog]

No. 3 - 2008

Character: Yazoo Series: Final Fantasy VII: Advent Children by Square Enix

Cosplayer Credits: - Kadaj : Kat - Reno : Jaiden

Photo Credits: - ChibiPa's nope - FSC's TigerFist - Morataya Photography - Our friend, Chris - Our friend, Kirky

==========

I definitely can't wear this costume anymore. We actually made them in such a way that we didn't need to bind or anything for them because they sort of acted like a corset/binder all on their own. They were also so form-fitting up top that I couldn't lift my arms up beyond a certain point; I could barely touch my own face. And living in FL, we did almost die of heat stroke a few times taking pics outside... so yeah, don't do that! 😂

==========

We finished everything in time for MetroCon '08 except for the weapons which we completed at the end of October.

All of the leather material aspects are made of car leather which is a lot thicker than most other fabrics because it had, not only a leather top, but a cloth underside. We made the coat first, but used the wrong needles and broke about 4-6 of them. We made our own pattern from a form-fitting jacket we had and extended it to the appropriate length. Each piece of the side design was separately sewn into place on a piece of organza. Once it was a whole piece, we sewed the whole thing on the coat. We purchased the custom zippers from ZipperSource.com. The wrists were crafted with wooden bangles purchased at Michael's and hot glued into place. The boots were made from on-sale Keds and a cover. We made a pattern to get the leather to be form-fitting and hot glued the covers in place. We already had costume gloves and the pants were merely tights. We made the big shoulder armor pieces out of cardboard, polyfil and a bit of furniture foam. The little ones were just stuffed. We hand sewed the little ones to the big ones. The straps were also hand sewed to the armor and the snaps were stomped in place (literally). The wigs were purchased from eBay seller CosplayWig.

Kadaj's weapon was made out of Balsa wood and my father, a carpenter, crafted it. Kat finished it off by wrapping the hilt and adding the black and white ribbons. Yazoo's weapon was made out of spruce wood and bits of metal for the trigger, trigger guard, hammer, and site. I used a hot glue gun to make the designs.

==========

Cost: $185 Time: ~900 hrs

==========

This costume has won the following awards: - Best in Show @ ChibiPa in 2008 - Hall Costume Contest @ MizuCon in 2008 - Best Technical @ Infinite Bits in 2009

[skylarstark4826]

VANDAL SAVAGE'S MANOR, SWISS ALPS- 1987

Sara had to admit that breaking in Savage's house without making sure he was going to be absent for a lengthy period of time; was not one of their best.

But as she and Leonard raced across the complex hallways of Savage's mansion; desperately seeking for a hideout now that Savage was back home and his bodyguards were patrolling the whole place until he retrieved what he came back for.

"In here." Snart whispered at Sara, as finally one of the mostly locked doors of the estate opened and both of the Legends crawled into the dark room; closing the door behind them. Unfortunately for them; even the faint click of the closing door echoed distinctively in the spacious corridor and it wasn't long until they heard men's footsteps approaching their shelter.

Leonard grabbed Sara by the arm, dragging her in a safe position, so when the door would open; they would be protected from the guards.

Soon enough, the door cracked open slightly; the shadow of two broad men appearing and then disappearing after confirming that no one was hiding in the room.

Relief flooded over both of them; and then they heard the door lock.

"Fuck." Sara breathed; trying to maneuver on the dark space to find a switch.

Turning on the lights didn't make that much difference, but now they could see the room-and each other, clearly.

"Of course we would be locked in a sauna room." Leonard stated; leaning against one of the wooden walls with his eyes scanning his surroundings. "Does your comm work?"

Sara placed his hand on her earpiece and then turned and looked at Leonard; shaking her head negatively.

"If you just want to lean against that wall until the team shows up to rescue us, you can go ahead." Sara remarked; shrugging off of her White Canary jacket and sitting on one of the sauna benches to toe off her boots. "But I am taking advantage of this opportunity."

"What do you think you are doing?" Leonard questioned, as Sara now lowered the zipper of her leather corset and he had to turn around so he would not get a really clear view of what she was wearing and what she was not wearing under that outfit.

"I told you, I am taking an advantage of this opportunity." She explained then; Leonard still facing away from her with his arms crossed in front of his torso. "You can turn around now, Snart; nothing R rated."

He turned around slowly then, seeing Sara kneeling above the sauna stones and pouring fresh water-releasing steam on the process. She had to have turned the sauna on while he had been facing the other way, because the temperature was already rising.

Wearing only a towel around her petite body, Sara treaded to one of the sauna benches and then suddenly layed on her chest. As if that hadn't made Leonard uncomfortable, Sara's hand removed the towel from her upper body and sprawled it above her ass, leaving her back tantalizingly bare and showing the side of what seemed to be a very impressive cleavage.

"So are you planning on joining me or you are going to stand in the heat with a full winter outfit until the team comes back?" Sara, suggested as they heard the distinctive sound of a door closing, meaning that they were alone in the house.

The air was more and more stifling every second and the fact that Sara was naked and covered only by a towel across him, was not helping with the heat.

Leonard finally surrendered; shrugging off of his parka, that he wore for the Alpine weather and slowly removing his clothes-Sara's eyes watching his every move intently.

He turned away from her; quickly removing his underwear and wrapping a towel around his waist. Leonard felt Sara's burning gaze as he turned to face her and he immediately took notice of the devilish smile on her face as she scanned his body.

Leonard sat next to her; head resting against the wooden surface and appreciating the heat after spending hours observing Savage in below-zero temperatures.

They sat in silence for a minute or two, until Sara lifted her head slightly and poked Leonard's leg.

The man opened his eyes and looked down at Sara; her little lift showing more cleavage and causing a very particular part of Leonard's anatomy to lift too.

"Snart, could you do me a favor?" Sara asked then, and Leonard immediately realized that this wasn't a good idea. Sara pointed towards the other edge of the room and the bottle of massage oil that was placed on the top of a pile of towels.

"When in Rome…" Leonard muttered as he stood up and took the bottle; now settling next to Sara who had scooted deeper in the bench.

He poured some of the scented oil in his hands and then placed them on Sara's bare back, spreading the warm liquid all across her alabaster skin. His hands started moving upwards first; his thumbs varying the pressure on her shoulder blades and then trailing down her spine.

A small sound of pleasure escaped Sara's lips as Leonard's large hand rubbed her sides and lower back; putting pressure in all the right places in the process.

"Do you think that Savage used this oil?" Leonard teased then; adoring the way he had Sara breathless.

"I would rather not think what Savage did in this sauna while you massage me." Sara answered impatiently; craving Leonard's touch on her skin.

His hands then slid lower; under the towel, and rubbed her hips and ass; making Sara release a needy moan.

"Leonard…" She whimpered and she sat up; slowly wrapping the towel around her naked body.

He looked at her then; eyes burning and turned almost black from desire, and his hands went on her towel- slow enough so she could stop him. But she didn't.

The towel fell on the bench and Leonard grabbed Sara by the hips; laying her on top of it.

At that moment, the thief didn't know if he had seen anything more exquisite than the view in front of him. Sara naked in front of him; the oil and the heat of the room giving her skin an ethereal glow.

He spilled the liquid directly to her body now; watching as it traveled from the crook of her neck, to the valley of her breasts and her stomach-and his hands followed the trail, thumbs massaging the nipples before moving to the stomach.

And then his hands rubbed her legs; varying the pressure in ways that had her moaning in absolute delight.

Meanwhile, the temperature on the room was getting even higher for Leonard; and of course Sara took notice.

Her eyes fell on his suddenly-raised towel and she licked her lips. Sara lost no time as she wrapped her legs around Leonard's waist and pulled him to her; oily hands trailing all over his body before smiling and unfastening his towel.

"And you say that you don't like the heat, Len…" She said in a sultry whisper, as her hand closed firmly around his all too-impressive erection. Leonard let out a groan as one of his hands went to tangle with Sara's blonde locks and the other cupped her most intimate place.

"Len…" Sara whined as the thief's calloused hands teased her and tortured her in the sweetest ways possible. Leonard brought his mouth to her neck; sucking and nipping her flesh before pulling her in for an ardent kiss.

Her lips tasted just like they did in the Oculus; salt and at the same time like the sweetest thing he had tasted. But this time the desperation and the sadness was gone and only the unadulterated lust was left.

Her tongue stroked his as his fingers twisted her nipples. His mouth sucked her skin, while her hands expertly stroked his erection.

They both had a thin sheen of sweat on their bodies due to the temperature. But Leonard; who wasn't the biggest fan of the heat seemed to really enjoy it at that moment.

He has her sitting in one of the top benches with her legs spread open, as he kneels in the next one; tasting her and making her punch the wood from his torture.

"God, you are so dazzling to look at." He mumbled from between her thighs, before descending on her again and making her cry out in pleasure as she came; calling out his name.

Sara changed the positions unexpectedly, shoving Leonard on his back as she placed one leg on each side of him and she started exploring his torso with her mouth.

By the end of Sara's ministrations; Leonard had been gripping her hips, possibly forming bruises, as she took him in her mouth and made him chant her name.

She looked up at him; satisfied with a very arousing smile.

The smile was wiped off of her face once Leonard grabbed her and layed her on her chest; one hand teasing her nipple and the other stroking and caressing her butt cheeks.

"Tell me you want this." He murmured huskily in Sara's ear, sending shivers down her spine.

She turned her head then, meeting his lust-filled eyes with hers and connected their bruised lips.

"I want you." Sara cried out as Leonard slid inside her and she was drowning in utter bliss.

He groaned against her bare back; lavishing the way her body against him and how absolutely stunning she looked.

Suddenly Sara moved away from him; startling Leonard, but after a second that he was on his back and she was riding him, he didn't have words.

All he could do was admire this amazing woman that had him under her spell and savor the moans and whimpers that escaped her mouth when he hit her in her sensitive spots.

After what seemed like eternity, Sara's muscles clenched around him as she came with a cry of his name. He came breaths after; his mouth on one of her breasts and one hard on her clit.

Having cooled off from their orgasms, Sara closed the sauna; the air now cooler.

Leonard observed her as she moved comfortably around him naked and putted everything back to their original spot, before walking back to him and straddling him.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face on this neck; breathing in the familiar scent, and then Leonard found himself wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his cheek on the top of her head.

He pulled back for a little and looked at her before pressing a soft kiss on her lips.

Sara made a joyous sound against his mouth, just as they heard the front door open.

"Raincheck?" Sara whispered as she stood up and walked to put back her clothes.

"You bet." Leonard said; tossing her jacket. "But next time somewhere cooler."

[aurora-by-jacqui-natla]

7. VISIT

THE FOLLOWING DAY, IN THE AFTERMATH of the chaos, I gathered my family and announced my plans to visit Ayla with Seth. The air was thick with a mixture of relief and apprehension as we stood in the living room, the events of the previous day still fresh in our minds. They accepted my proposal, albeit with a warning from Gabriel to not stay too long. His fear of the Volturi's impending arrival was palpable, casting a shadow over our fleeting moment of peace. Gabriel's eyes, usually steady and composed, betrayed a flicker of anxiety, a stark reminder of the danger that loomed on the horizon.

Seth wasted no time in informing his mother and Charlie of my impending arrival in Forks. His enthusiasm was infectious, and I could sense his eagerness to reconnect with his roots and loved ones. A small get-together with the Cullens was on the cards, and I was eager to surprise Ayla upon my arrival. The first part of my plan was true, but there was more to it than met the eye. Beneath the surface of this reunion lay a deeper mission, one that I had yet to disclose to anyone. The thought of seeing Ayla again brought a rush of anticipation, but also a tinge of nervousness about the secrets I carried.

As we arrived at Charlie Swan's house, a small, quaint structure with white wooden siding and a cozy front porch, Seth filled me in on the latest developments in his life. The house exuded a comforting familiarity, its simplicity a stark contrast to the opulence of the Cullen residence. Charlie and his mother, Sue, were dating, and she had moved in with him. It was a relief to know that Charlie wouldn't be alone in Bella's new life as a vampire. The thought of Charlie finding companionship with Sue brought a smile to my face, knowing he deserved happiness after all he had endured. But I couldn't help but wonder what he thought of Renesmee. Did he know about her, or was he completely oblivious to her existence? The questions swirled in my mind, adding another layer of complexity to our visit. Charlie's reaction to Renesmee could hold significant implications for our fragile peace, and I braced myself for whatever lay ahead.

Seth was in his human form, dressed in a beige hoodie and black jeans that highlighted his casual yet stylish demeanor. His hoodie had a subtle logo on the front, and his jeans were slightly faded, giving him a laid-back look. I opted for an all-black ensemble, complete with a laced-sleeved top that had intricate floral patterns along the arms, leggings that clung to my legs like a second skin, and small heeled boots that added a touch of elegance to my otherwise edgy outfit. My trusty black leather jacket completed the look, its worn-in softness and silver zippers providing a perfect contrast to the lace of my top.

As Seth rapped his knuckles against the door, Charlie appeared before us, his chocolate brown eyes twinkling with warmth and a hint of mischief. His black hair was tousled, sticking up in all directions as if he had just woken up from a nap, giving him an effortlessly rugged charm. He wore a patterned shirt adorned with subtle, geometric designs, with a plain white tee peeking out from underneath. This casual yet fashionable combination was paired with black trousers - or pants, as they say in America - that were neatly pressed, and sturdy hiking boots on his feet, which looked like they had seen many adventures.

"Hey, kid," Charlie greeted Seth, enfolding him in a bear hug that spoke of long-standing affection and familiarity. He released him and turned to me, his gaze lingering on my face with a mix of curiosity and warmth. "Hello, Violet. How are you doing?"

"I'm doing well, thanks," I replied, feeling a blush creeping up my cheeks as his attention made me slightly self-conscious. "I've heard that you and Sue are dating."

"Yep," he said with a loud 'P' at the end, a grin spreading across his face that reached his eyes, making them sparkle even more. "Sue and I started dating about a month ago and she moved into my house. Also, Ayla moved in as well."

"Is Ayla here?" I asked eagerly, my heart racing at the thought of seeing her. My mind was already racing with ideas on how to reconnect and spend time together.

"Sue's just picking her up from school," Charlie informed us, his voice filled with the casual ease of someone used to the rhythms of family life.

"We could surprise her," Seth suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye that hinted at the playful spirit I had always admired in him.

"Kid, she saw you every day," Charlie chuckled, shaking his head as if amused by the idea of Ayla being easily surprised.

"I meant to surprise her with Violet," Seth clarified, his tone indicating that this was a well-thought-out plan, not just a spur-of-the-moment idea.

"Oh," Charlie rubbed his chin thoughtfully, considering the proposal. "That makes sense," he finally said, a slow smile spreading across his face as he envisioned the reunion.

A soft chuckle escaped my lips as Charlie welcomed us into his humble abode, the familiar scent of coffee and pinewood greeting us as we stepped inside. The decor remained unchanged since my last visit, despite Bella's departure to live with the Cullens. The walls still bore the same framed photos and fishing memorabilia, and the worn, cozy furniture retained its positions as if cemented by time. I had expected a bit of a revamp, perhaps new curtains or a different color on the walls, but it seemed Charlie was content with the way things were, holding onto the memories embedded in the old decor.

We made our way to the living room and settled onto the plush sofas, which had clearly seen better days but were immensely comfortable. The television blared in the background, tuned to a football game with the volume slightly too high, just like always. Same old Charlie, I thought to myself, a smile tugging at my lips as I observed the clutter of magazines on the coffee table and the mismatched cushions that added a homely touch to the space.

"So, Violet," Charlie began, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over us like a warm blanket. "What have you been up to in London?"

I grinned, "Oh, you know, just enjoying the rain." My tone was light and playful, and it elicited a genuine laugh from Charlie, who knew all too well about London's infamous weather.

Charlie and I shared a laugh, while Seth let out a small chuckle, his eyes twinkling with amusement. The camaraderie among us felt natural and easy, a reminder of the strong bonds that connected us.

"Hey, Angela's dad mentioned you're in Oxford now?" Charlie continued, his curiosity piqued as he leaned forward slightly, clearly interested in my academic pursuits.

I blinked, trying to steady my breathing as a mix of pride and nervousness washed over me. "Yes, I'm studying literature. We're currently studying Macbeth," I replied with a lie.

Okay, technically it wasn't a lie. I was reading Macbeth a couple of weeks ago but it was out of boredom.

Seth chimed in, "What's that?" His genuine curiosity made me smile, and I turned to him.

"Macbeth is a tragedy by William Shakespeare," I explained. "It's about a Scottish general named Macbeth who, driven by ambition and spurred to action by his wife, commits regicide to become king but then falls into paranoia and tyranny, leading to his downfall."

Seth nodded thoughtfully, his interest apparent. "Sounds intense," he remarked, his tone suggesting he was genuinely intrigued.

"It is," I agreed, my excitement bubbling over. "The themes of ambition, power, and guilt are incredibly profound and still relevant today."

Charlie leaned forward, intrigued. "Haven't you already study that in school?"

I shook my head. "No, that was Romeo and Juliet. Two completely different stories."

"True," Charlie conceded, nodding as if in recognition of the distinct differences between the plays. "Romeo and Juliet's about love and tragedy, right?"

"Exactly," I confirmed. "It's more about youthful passion and the consequences of feuding families, while Macbeth delves into darker aspects of human nature and power."

As we chatted, the front door creaked open, and a woman's voice echoed through the hallway, cheerful and warm. "Charlie, we're back!" she called, her footsteps light and familiar. Ayla's laughter followed, a melodic sound that sent a rush of warmth through me.

"Ayla," I murmured to myself, my heart pounding with anticipation.

The woman, I realised it was Sue Clearwater, and Ayla entered the living room, their faces lighting up with surprise and delight at seeing us. Sue had a striking appearance, with a thin face, black eyes, and hair cut in a severe style. Her skin was a rich copper tone, reminiscent of Leah's. It was definite that they were mother and daughter. Seth's face lit up like a thousand suns, his happiness radiating off him in waves.

As she looked at me with her stern eyes, I braced myself for the same hostility I had received from Leah when we first met. But to my surprise, her mouth curved into a small smile, and I could sense that she harbored no ill will towards me. Perhaps it was because of Seth and Ayla, or maybe she was just a kind-hearted person.

My gaze shifted to Seth, who was already racing towards them, his arms outstretched in anticipation of the warm embrace he was about to receive from his mother and girlfriend. And as he hugged them tightly, I couldn't help but feel a sense of joy and contentment wash over me, knowing that he was surrounded by the love and support of his family. Ayla's blue eyes sparkled as she caught sight of someone behind him.

"Violet!" Ayla exclaimed, her eyes wide with joy.

Seth released her from his embrace, allowing her to sprint towards me. Her golden locks swayed behind her as she threw her arms around me, who welcomed her with open arms.

"Hey, Ayla," I greeted, my voice thick with emotion. "It's so good to see you again."

Ayla rushed over to me, wrapping her arms around my waist in a tight hug. "I missed you," she said softly, her voice muffled against my jacket.

"I missed you too," I replied, stroking her hair gently. "It's been too long."

Sue stepped forward, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she smiled warmly. "Violet, it's wonderful to see you. How have you been?"

"I'm doing well, thank you, Sue," I replied, returning her smile. "And congratulations on moving in together. Charlie's told me all about it."

Sue's cheeks flushed with a soft pink. "Thank you. It's been an adjustment, but a good one."

As we all settled into the living room, the conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and shared memories. Ayla sat beside me, her eyes never leaving my face as she eagerly caught up on everything that had happened since we last saw each other.

"So, what brings you back to Forks?" Sue asked, her tone casual yet curious.

"Just needed a change of scenery," I replied, keeping my true purpose hidden for now. "And, of course, to see all of you."

Sue nodded, accepting my answer without pressing further. "Well, we're glad to have you here. Ayla's been asking about you non-stop."

Ayla blushed, nudging Sue playfully. "Stop..." she protested, though the smile on her face showed she didn't mind.

"Well, I have missed her," I admitted, glancing at Ayla who was now beaming with happiness.

The warmth and comfort of Charlie's home began to wrap around me like a familiar blanket, easing the tension that had been building since our arrival. Ayla and I slipped into a comfortable conversation, catching up on the little details of our lives that we had missed during our time apart. She spoke of school and new friends, of small adventures and plans for the summer, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.

"And you, Violet?" Ayla asked, her curiosity piqued. "What have you been up to?"

"Studying, mostly," I replied with a smile. "London's a big change from here, but it's been good. I've been reading a lot, exploring the city. It's amazing how much history is packed into one place."

"London sounds amazing," Ayla said wistfully. "I'd love to visit someday.”

"You should," I encouraged her. "We could explore together. There's so much to see and do."

The thought of showing Ayla around London filled me with excitement, a welcome distraction from the darker thoughts that had been plaguing my mind.

Sue and Charlie retreated to the kitchen to prepare dinner, leaving us to our own devices. The scent of cooking filled the house, adding to the sense of homeliness that pervaded the atmosphere. Seth and Ayla disappeared into the backyard, laughing and talking in low tones, their bond evident in the easy way they interacted.

I wandered around the living room, my fingers trailing over the framed photos that lined the walls. Pictures of Bella, her mother Renee, and Charlie at various stages of their lives. Memories frozen in time, each one telling a story of its own. My eyes landed on a photo of Bella with Jacob and the others, taken before everything had changed. The innocence and happiness on their faces struck a chord within me, a poignant reminder of how much had been lost.

"You're lost in thought," Sue's voice broke through my reverie, and I turned to find her standing in the doorway, a gentle smile on her face.

"Just reminiscing," I admitted, offering her a small smile in return.

"That's the thing about photographs," she said, joining me. "They capture moments we can never get back, but they also remind us of the good times we've had."

I nodded, understanding the truth in her words. "It's been a while since I last saw some of these pictures. It feels like a lifetime ago."

Sue's gaze softened. "A lot has changed, but some things remain the same. The bonds we share, the love we have for each other. Those are the things that keep us going."

Her words resonated deeply within me, a reminder of the strength that came from family and friendship. "Thank you, Sue," I said sincerely. "I needed to hear that."

She placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Anytime, Violet." Then, her tone changed as she looked at Charlie and back to me. "Have you met Renesmee yet?"

I nodded, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Yeah, she's quite a remarkable kid. Does Charlie know about her?"

Sue's expression turned thoughtful. "He knows bits and pieces, enough to understand she's special. But the full story... not yet. It's a delicate matter, and Bella and Edward are cautious about revealing too much. They're trying to keep things as normal as possible for Charlie."

I sighed, understanding the complexities of the situation. "I see. It's a lot for anyone to take in."

Sue nodded. "It is, but Charlie is resilient. He'll handle it in his own way, just like he always has."

As we stood in silence, Ayla's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Hey, Charlie," she chirped. "Can I show Violet my room?"

Charlie nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Sure thing, kiddo. It's technically your room, after all."

Ayla grabbed my arm, pulling me towards the stairs. Seth followed us like a loyal puppy, his eyes never leaving Ayla's back.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Clearwater," I muttered as we reached the top of the stairs.

As we approached the plain door, my heart raced with anticipation. Ayla's hand reached for the handle and with a gentle push, the door creaked open. My eyes widened as I took in the sight before me. Bella's old bedroom had undergone a complete transformation. The once vibrant pink and black duvet had been replaced with a serene light grey one. The pastel green walls were now a pristine ivory white, and a bright white light fixture hung from the ceiling, illuminating the room.

My gaze shifted to a long mirror standing near the window, reflecting the soft afternoon light. On the right side of the room, a cluttered desk caught my attention. Pens were scattered haphazardly, and books were piled high, with pages marked by colorful tabs. It was clear that this was a space for studying, perhaps for school or personal projects. The only thing that remained unchanged was the bed frame, still the same wooden frame from my last visit with human Bella.

"Wow," I breathed, taking in the new ambiance of the room.

As the door shut behind us, I turned to see Seth and Ayla standing side by side. Ayla's piercing gaze met mine, and she spoke with a hint of suspicion in her voice.

"So, Violet," she said. "Why are you here? I have a feeling it's more than just to see me.”

I hesitated for a moment before responding. "Are you happy to see me?" I asked, hoping to deflect her probing question.

Ayla's expression softened, and she nodded. "Of course I am. I just want to know if there's something else going on."

I let out a heavy sigh, wishing that my troubles were as simple as the reason I was currently discussing with Ayla. "You know about Renesmee, right?" I asked her.

Ayla nodded, her expression solemn. "Seth filled me in on everything that happened with her," she replied. But then, her face fell as a realization hit her. "I didn't tell you that Jacob imprinted on her, did I?"

I gritted my teeth, still angry at Jacob for his actions. "Yeah, and I was furious with him," I admitted.

Seth chimed in, his voice laced with concern. "You scared Jake a bit there," he reminded me. "I'm surprised you didn't show him your powers and-."

I shot him a bitter look. "Not now, Seth," I snapped. Turning back to Ayla, I continued. "A vampire from another coven reported to the Volturi that Renesmee is an immortal child..."

"But Bella was human when she gave birth," Ayla interjected.

"Exactly," I agreed. "So Carlisle asked my family and me to stand with him as a witness. To say that she's a hybrid. Plus, other vampires are going to help him as well."

Ayla's eyes lit up with determination. "Then I'll help too," she declared confidently.

Seth's worried tone cut through the air. "Ayla, it's dangerous," he warned.

But Ayla wasn't deterred. "I'm a Child of the Moon, Sethy," she reminded him.”

I stepped in to defend Seth. "He's right, Ayla," I said. "There will be other vampires, yellow eyes and red eyes, covens, the lot. And I don't know what their general views on werewolves are. They might think that all of them are dead."

Ayla's gaze dropped to the ground for a moment before she looked back up at me. "I guess you're right," she sighed. "Such a bummer."

I couldn't help but smile at her use of the word 'bummer'. Despite the gravity of the situation, Ayla's carefree spirit was a breath of fresh air.

"I understand," I murmured. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

Seth's eyes were filled with anger and frustration. "Why do they get to decide who we can and can't be with? It's not fair."

I sighed. "I know, but we have to follow the rules. We don't want to attract any unwanted attention."

Ayla's voice was soft and sad. "But what if they come for us anyway? What if we have to fight?"

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of her words. The thought of a battle was terrifying, but I knew we had to be prepared. "We'll do what we have to do," I said finally. "But let's hope it doesn't come to that."

As the sun sank lower in the sky, we stood in silence, lost in our own thoughts. The beauty of the moment was bittersweet, knowing that we couldn't stay together for long.

"I should go," I said, breaking the stillness. "But I'll see you both soon."

Seth nodded, his expression solemn. "Stay safe."

Ayla hugged me again, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "See you later, Vi," she whispered into my ear, and we parted ways.

I embraced Seth tightly before making my way out of her bedroom. Descending the stairs, I bid farewell to Charlie and Sue, and departed from their abode. Once out of their line of vision, I bolted through the woods with lightning speed, racing back to the Cullen residence. The wind whipped past me, carrying the scent of pine and earth, as I navigated the familiar terrain. The thoughts of our conversation swirled in my mind, a mixture of hope and dread.

As the Cullen residence came into view, its stately presence brought a sense of both comfort and foreboding. I slowed my pace, catching my breath and steeling myself for the challenges that awaited inside.

[gentillerascal]

Chapter 1 - Friend, my renegade

Hello, Vee here! Thanks for supporting this small story!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

The last customers have left the tailor shop. Jesperi slides the cloth beneath the needle of the porcelain white and worn-out sewing machine and leaves a neat, straight line. Just as he finishes the final portion of monotonous sewing, Jesperi hangs the shirt he made and relaxes on his favourite wooden chair from the previous century.

The bell rings.

To his surprise, it is Mari. She is a lady with fluffy hair spread all over her shoulders, a thick sweater and a tight skirt around her legs. Her face is carved out with some age, Jesperi hops out from his reclaimed throne, almost runs up to her and bows down at her.

“Hello Mari, you’re here for your jacket?” Jesperi turns to her.

“Yeah, I am here for my jacket! Is Esku still in Vandaal?” Mari, the old lady replies with a warm tone.

“Y-yeah, he is still there. He should be here any time soon, I think. So for the jacket adjustment, that should be… thirty-four legees,” Jesperi looks at his calculator.

“Alright, thank god you finished the jacket just in time because I wanted to upgrade my winter wardrobe and give it a good clean-up! You always do a great job fixing clothes and make it look like new!” Mari laughs a bit.

“I am glad I could help you with it! Do you need anything else here? Like, sit and relax, or-?” Jesperi asks, tilting his head to the seats.

“Thanks, kiddo. Besides, I am feeling a bit tired. A lot of office work needed to be fixed today,” Mari sighs.

Jesperi always offers Mari a free cup of tea. He had learnt this habit from Esku. When Esku’s friends come over, Jesperi dashes to the kitchen, cooks tea in a small metal kettle and tears open the sugary sesame crackers. Just as Jesperi returns, the bell rings above his head.

“Hello, rva Valko, hello Kärki," the middle-aged and well-dressed man cheers with his hat.

“Hello, hra Alonen, how can I help you?” Jesperi grins.

“Uhm, I’d like to have my summer vest fixed.”

“Alright, I see it has a…”

“A popped seam,” the man awkwardly smiles.

“A popped seam… I could fix that tomorrow,” Jesperi rambles,”-I just have a lot of people on my list. You can get it back tomorrow if I am making a correct assumption… That would make twenty legees, thank you!”

“Sure, thanks! You are incredibly reliable. You and your father are always there when I need you!”

The old-school cabinet slides shut when Jesperi gently pushes it with his hip. He unravels his meter and starts to make different calculations on other pieces of patchwork. Torn zipper, popped seam on jeans, popped seam on a shirt, size adjustment for a jacket… the rack always keeps filling up from the other end!

It has been an hour and Mari still melts in her favourite seat when the bell rings again. Jesperi jumps up from his familiar voice.

“Jessi! I am here!” Matias jumps in.

“Whoa!” Jesperi hops up. “Ayy, Matias! How did your May trip go?”

“It went south, let’s say,” Matias coughs. “In Iverens, my dad argued with my uncle, and my other uncle got caught smoking a whole pack of cigs even if he promised my aunt he wouldn’t do that again. Oh, and most of us got food poisoning, including my dad, I didn’t get that.”

“Fair ‘nuff! That’s why you returned earlier with your father, didn’t you?”

“Yup! Besides, my arguing uncle got annoyed at me for the rest of the trip after I decided to burn a few Rinean rockets in the backyard. Kinda ruined their flowerbed,” Matias scoffs.

“Right… so, what does bring you here?”

“Eh, just a quick chat. Is your daddy here yet?”

“Nah, he should be here in about forty minutes. Wanna come over for dinner?”

“Sure, my daddy is kinda busy in the capital region. At some damn seminar, as per fricken’ usual.”

As the boys exchange their talk, Mari and hra Alonen look at them. Mari scrunches up her face and Alonen just stands and looks at the clothes. Matias rushes to the opposite side of the workshop. Wooden cupboards slam open around the small section of the kitchen, as Jesperi tilts backwards to gain a glimpse of the view in the half-opened door.

“Uhm, what on Earth are you doing there?” Jesperi leans over.

“Oh, I just tried to look for something to eat,” Matias’ voice booms from the kitchen.

Hra Alonen leaves, and Mari stares through the magazine, fully focusing on Jesperi and Matias. Matias has already found some sweet bread as he rustles with the plastic bag and grabs a few slices of bread that have a dark crust, but the inside is cream coffee-coloured. Jesperi scoffs and reclines against the wall.

“Seriously, are you gonna eat that bread? You know you should not be eating that during the evenings. I will make some rice and vegetables,” Jesperi mumbles.

“I know. It’s just too good to be true. My dad always buys some sugary white bread from Western countries, thinking it’s tasty… I never have anything proper food to eat at home,” Matias whines.

“Okay, okay… I will go back and return to working on the commissions. Just wait a bit before my dad comes!”

Jesperi calculates each move of the needle and then slowly stamps down the final line with the sewing machine. The foot makes a slow movement, like a cat’s paw that hunts down a mouse. A rapid run and ruin the untouched, rare textile. Hence, he feeds the cloth and slowly steers it, especially at the corners. Only the confident route is the perfect place to speed up.

The light from the sewing machine turns off once Jesperi is done, and the bell rings again.Esku drops a few heavy bags of textiles, decorations and other things as Jesperi already pulls in the bag and starts to sort it out.

“Hey dad! Do I sort these out?” Jesperi grins.

“Uhuh, just this bag,” Esku nods. “These are recycled, so we can use them for our projects or as a material to fix our clothes. These bags have textiles that we’ll use for creating new props for the local school!”

“Got it! Mari came here and wanted to talk to you,” Jesperi leans over to the lounge.

“I see,” Esku wanders off, “Hello Mari! How did your summer holiday start?”

“Oh, I just came down here, got bored at my home. Have you heard…”

Jesperi turns away for a moment to give both people a chance to have a private conversation as he weasels out from his seat and walks into the kitchen. The kettle is already shaking on the gas stove, trying to contain the steam and pressure rattling it. Matias twirls the tea bag inside the mug, his eyes averted from the busy scenery of the small kitchen.

“Uuuuh, Matias… are you okay?” Jesperi takes the chance to peek into the kitchen.

“Yeah… MORE THAN OKAY!!” Matias shouts.

Matias hops up, spreads his knees and spreads his arms open in an exaggerated pose. His grin curls more, as if he has so much happiness in him to share it with Jesperi.

“Y’know, that there was a tool that was used to rebuild certain things!? Like-” Jesperi peeks over.

Matias wipes the menu on a tiny blackboard, and carves in a sketch of a ring-like thing in the middle of it, with prominent shapes and intricate designs, such as thing vines and dots along them.

“See those things!?” Matias shoves the tiny blackboard. “For years I thought those were legends, until just now I actually saw one at the antique store this April!!”

“Didn’t you get your butt kicked out from there?” Jesperi looks back and forth between Matias and the board.

“I- Listen, I know this sounds cray, but I just- Well… It’s just… I remember you had it, right?”

A cold chill runs down Jesperi’s spine and shins. His eyes fixate on the wavering sketch. Where in the heavens did that guy get the idea of that bracelet!? Jesperi puts down the chalkboard and gathers his thoughts.

“I’d rather not talk about this,” he calmly replies.

“Eh? Why is that so, gotta problem?” Matias sneers.

“I don’t like talking about my past. You know I have a problem with my family.”

“Well, as a dude with family issues as well I can guess, but uhm…”

Jesperi draws a gap between Matias and the doorway as he starts to sort out the textile pieces Esku had dragged in. Matias looms over the table, staring at each rare-looking piece. He looks at each piece of rag that glistens under the dim light. Twisted flower vines with tiny rhinestones, thin and intricate details, delicate drawings and different designs from other countries show how expensive material was wasted for nothing.

“Wanna help with these? I'll pay you modestly…” Esku grins at Matias.

“Oh, sure, sure,” Matias nods.

Small mountains of textiles grow on each side. Matias throws in a few more pieces, then folds bigger pieces. In a few minutes, the table turns into a small colony of mountains at the borders. Esku measures and pops some textures by pulling by the edges. Perfect, Esku thinks to himself, these should fit his upcoming project.

Jesperi stirs the rice. He pushes it back and forth, scatters bright powdery spice all over the hot pan. He drops poultry meat, sweet bell peppers, corn and peas into the pan, and gives it a nice spin again.

“Is everything okay there?” Esku wades inside the small kitchen.

“Yeah, just cooking…” Jesperi shrugs.

“Okay, tell Matias to set up the table. Dinner will start soon!” Esku nods.

As Jesperi cooks, the bell rings another time. When Jesperi steps out of the secluded kitchen, he freezes. The blood boils in his veins again at the sight of a familiar silhouette. Thin shorts, striped shirt with tight socks and obviously oversized outdoors sandals. That's Saku for you!

“Hello. How may I help you?” Jesperi tries to balance his poker face and the plastered grin.

“Matias asked me to come over to chill.” Saku grins back.

“He is currently busy. Come another time, if you please.” Jesperi twists Saku's direction back to the door.

“Actually, I am done with the sorting!” Matias pops out from lounge, “It's a please to see you!”

“Huh? Since when you two were buddies!?”

“Eh, I wanted to give this bastard a chance to redeem himself,” Saku brings Matias closer to his shoulder.

Jesperi still doesn't shift his eyes off Saku. His sneering doesn't stop. Eventually, Saku gently guides Matias to the stairs to the apartment upstairs, forcing Jesperi to pull the duo back down.

“That's an off-limit zone!!” Jesperi speaks out with a louder tone.

“Ouch, strong hands,” Matias groans from that painful grip, “Come on, I just need to talk about the past with my best friend, Saku, right!?”

“Then… you may talk about it in my room. That'll offer you some privacy. Okay?”

The guys still shove Jesperi away. The young man retreats to the kitchen, checks on the rice. Letting it stay under a lid in a warm pan, Jesperi scavenges the vegetable net. He starts to shred the cabbage. Many years ago, Saku was Matias’ eyesore. And Matias was a target of daily abusive endurances for Saku. How come they became friends so fast!?

Still to this day, Jesperi is unable to wipe out that frame, the very scene from his mind. He had recently arrived to the town. Matias was his only friend at the time alongside a few adults. Matias was well-known at the school. He had a lot of friends, but also enemies. Saku and Matias never found the same way to communicate or act.

Jesperi remembers, how Matias beat up Saku by the end of the seventh grade. Matias was able to tackle down that pudgy dude, jam his foot into Saku's ribs and them give Saku a few blows to the face. All because Matias’ phone disappeared that day.

“Something's not alright,” Jesperi ponders to himself.

Shufling runs around from the story above. Jesperi looks up at the stairs, still wearing his hand-made apron. He leans over the steps, relying on the handrails to support his scrawny looks.

“AHEM!! IF YOU WON'T TELL ME WHAT ARE YOU DOING UP THERE, I WILL-,” Jesperi yelps at the duo upstairs.

The ballroom of the furniture pauses for a long minute. After even longer pause, Matias comes halfway down at the staircase.

“What?” he grumbles, “Aren't we allowed to talk for a few minutes and set up your room into a conversta-”

“Nuh-uh! My room shouldn't be re-arranged and you know I hate it when my dad rummages there too without my permission!” Jesperi yells.

“Okay, chill, bro!” Matias backs up and whispers at Saku, “Alright, dude, we need to be more private, he might hear everything!”

Jesperi doesn't think much about Matias and whatever his whispering has. Probably something about his relationship with Saku, Jesperi thinks to himself. He keeps shredding the cabbage. Esku walks into the kitchen.

“You sure everything is okay? I mean, you let your friend bring in that guy… who was a nuisance to all of us in a way?” Esku mumbles.

“I don't know myself. Matias is my only best friend and I know him well, I don't think they do anything suspicious… or I do think so,” Jesperi sighs.

Minutes later, Jesperi is setting the table up as he hears the bed and the bedside table creak against the wooden floor again.

“Jumalauta. Again!?” Jesperi scoffs again.

“You said Matias entered the off-limits with Saku, didn't you?” Esku suspiciously stares at the ceiling.

“I did? I let them both have a private conversation in my room!”

“Oh dear… I should have not let them go upstairs. One of my friends who works at the garage told me that Saku tried to shoplift his products a few times!”

Jesperi's heart sinks into his stomach. He rushes upstairs, not even caring about stomping his feet against the wooden steps. At that moment, Saku tumbles down the stairs. Esku's uninterrupted gaze holds Saku against the wallpaper of the store before the young boy dashes out of the store. Matias’ calculated steps remain unheard before Esku turns his head at him.

“You could have gone to the coffee room for a quick chat, you know?” Esku mumbles.

“I know. I just… felt like his room would be more…” Matias blurts out some words.

The round table is silent. Jesperi scoops up the rice with flower-embroidered utensils on a gold-decorated plate. Matias pokes his dish with the knife. Esku keeps taking small bites of warm food. Matias grabs the toasted bread, and dips it in the oil, and tears the crust of it, ignoring the grainy, bubbly meat in it. Esku lowers his utensil, brushes his lips with the napkin and waits for the perfect window of time to drop the question.

“So, what were you doing upstairs while I was making the clothes?” Esku sighs.

“Nothing special. Just talking to Saku,” Maties doesn’t bother to look up.

“But,” Esku sips on the water, “You clearly had a tough relationship with Saku before, right?”

“Yeah. But we talked about it. Thanks for the meal, tho,” Matias smirks.

Matias shoves a few more forkfuls of the dish inside of his mouth, swings on his vest and runs off outside. Esku shakes his head and pinches his face.

“He ate only half of his dish. Poor kid, sometimes he worries me, but at times his keeping running away angers me,” Esku grabs the plate, “Guess I will have to throw away the remains in the trash bin.”

Jesperi finishes his meal too, and gets up. He pushes himself up the stairs. Once he pushes the door of his room, he enters a messy sight. The curtains are closed and partially torn. The clothes on a shelf were thrown into thousands of puddles to avoid. The chest of drawers is turned into a tiny staircase, each tiny segment shuffled into a new disorder. The carpet is tossed aside into a small valley at the table. Even the items, that were neatly placed are scattered across the table.

Jesperi’s knees weaken at the sight of the box being open. It is wide open, with soft, textured fur unravelled. Where is that item Jesperi hid from the privy eyes of other people? His heart is thumping loudly inside of his ribcage. With each chilly wave, breathing starts to cease. His limbs drop down onto the floor. For a moment, a tight and bitter clump swells inside his constricted throat.

“I trusted him…” Jesperi whispers to himself.

Jesperi doesn’t even see the change of light by his side. Esku creeps behind his son, and rubs his back, and hugs Jesperi close to him.

“Jessi… Did he steal your bracelet?” Esku whispers.

“He did. I thought… he’d never do this to me. I thought I was his best friend,” Jesperi cries out.

…

The record still keeps replaying from the same moment, just as the thought of Matias and Saku snatching away a major part of Jesperi keeps Jesperi awake. He wants to punch the wall, either shout out in the middle of a silent night or laugh and cry. Instead, he remains in the cool bed, encased in a tastefully decorated blanket with thousands of different-coloured threads.

But he isn’t letting go as easily. Probably there is time for him to steal back the bracelet. Often, while Matias’ dad is gone, Matias prepares a party for everyone to come. And oddly enough, Matias didn’t bother inviting Jesperi to his tiny “tea” party. Jesperi kicks the blanket at the opposite side of the bed, and looks around his dark room, as cerulean blue wallpaper is washed down into a morbid tree forest. Jesperi pulls on a warmer shirt, a vest, more thicker jeans and thick, slightly irregular hand-made arm warmers.

He sits on the railing, softly slides and intercepts the cold floor with his toes. He softly crawls to the door, turns off the security system, and then pulls off the chain lock. He extends his arm to the bell above the door, allowing the clapper to sit on his soft paw pad, unhinges the bell with a swift twist, and then places it on the desk at the table and locks the door. The outside weather didn’t turn out to be as cold. The trees outside don’t wave at him, the apartments at the round park have only a few windows that glow bright yellow or white. Jesperi grabs his broom and kicks off, flying off into the darkness.

“Alright, Matias, you better have a place for an uninvited guest like me!” Jesperi sneers to himself.

Across more apartments and the tiny forest surrounding the suburbs, then the sports park, and through the fields, Jesperi zips with his magical broom. At the big mansion, encased in dark and textured stone, Jesperi crawls behind the shrubs. One window shines so bright with the yellow light, spreading across the intricate botanical garden by the mansion. Flowers and trees of all kinds stay still as if a sinister force is awaiting inside the castle-like house. Light music is humming from the inside and the laughter clatters inside the house.

Jesperi circles the house. Not even the tiniest gap to slip through! The young man attempts to lift the hefty window. As he tries to pry it open, each push slides the heavy wooden box-like contraption and threatens Jesperi by falling over at any moment. Just a small gap of only three djumes. Jesperi groans and hides under the window. He decides to tap on the window.

Tap.

Tap.

In a few seconds, someone pulls the window open.

“Hmm, just a branch,” a deep voice booms from above.

“Yo Henri, get yo ass here, we’re about to play shacker,” another voice rackets much further inside the big house.

Seemingly, whoever opened the window foolishly let the window fully open. Jesperi latches onto the cold and prickly windowsill, throws himself in and plops his feet onto the carpet. And he immediately greets a sunken face. Eyes are wide open, staring across the enriched room with a chandelier and dozens of heavy bookshelves, rich with books of all tastes. Jesperi backs up slowly. Even in the dark, the features are uniquely carved out with time, the man lying in a heavily decorated armchair. His clammy skin has barely any pulse in it, but the breathing sizzles at his tiny nostrils. Jesperi just sighs.

“Poor Uncle Tommy,” Jesperi groans.

The kitchen is now racketing with the laughter and the upbeat music. Upon a closer look, a group of men are encircled around the table, smoking repugnant cigarettes, clumsily spilling wheat beverages over crystal glasses and fanning their cards.

“Alright, setting two,” one guy smirks, fixing his cigarette.

“Psht, coward, I do ya better, raisin’ four,” another man slaps the cards onto the velvet tablecloth and sneers back.

“Erm, does anyone have the ‘woody’, guys?” the third guy groans.

“Alright, I’ll give ye my raise for that,” the youngest guy replies, sipping on the beverage.

And suddenly, one of the guys pulls the chair down as the young guy settles down. As he falls his ass over the kettle, the whole table erupts into the laughter. Matias smacks onto the back of the human guy who pranked the young boy and chuckles.

“Good one, Roba!” Matias cackles.

“Uhm, is it me or does ‘one stalk us here?” one of the guys nervously chuckles, shaking his head left and right.

“Nah, it’s just yer always drunk as fuck!” the guy with the deep voice laughs back.

“No worries, I knocked out Tommy with some pills. That asshat was always a worthless moron, thinking he can jus’ snitch on me!” Matias boasts proudly, “Anyways, raising five, along with this thing.”

“Indeed, he is just as grating as that bastard Jessi!” another guy screams.

“AHAHAHAHAA- Yeah, I hate him, he always wants to share, but never brings any use to us!” one guy yelps.

Matias slams the cards, a few legees and the copper bracelet, with intricate and thin patterns between two shackles. Small chains swing as Matias places them in the middle of the table. For one second, Jesperi was so close to running inside the kitchen, yet he decided to steer clear from the no man's zone of a hallway.

“Damn, so close!” Jesperi grumbles to himself.

And soon, the light lingers across the walls of the small library where Jesperi hides. The chairs creak.

“Oh, there he is!” one of the guys yells.

Jesperi’s fur sticks up. He hides behind the tall door. His heart is running at the highest speed possible. Yet, the main door glides open. All of the guys are outside, giggling and joking. Jesperi places his hands on his forehead when he stares out of the window. A large vehicle with many bags balancing it decides to take a small nap by the mossy bed of the forest. The same half dozen settles by the tall, muscular man. They cling to him, lean and push him around, throwing random drunken gags. One guy starts to unload the bags with him, another sits on the large, heavy craft.

“Yo, you got any more beer here?” the lanky guy pulls the bags.

“Uh? Yeah, I am not coming empty-handed!” the tall guy replies.

Jesperi uses this open window of time, this wide-open kitchen with no one sitting in it. This is a time of risk for someone to grab Jesperi by his scruff and beat him. He hops inside the kitchen, and grabs the bracelet. He allows the shine to glide along the clean metal. Tiny crystal sparks a bit, and tiny lines scatter across in a pulse. The young man pulls the bracelet across his arm to his bicep. The tiny crystal sparks a bit again.

“Got it back, good,” Jesperi sighs with relaxation.

So, he peeks out of the door as he sees the tall guy again. The vest is tight around his scrawny, but slightly muscular body. His face has a scar running across his cheek and lip. Long hair is picked up into a small pinsel at the end of his head. His fur is coarse and at parts splotched from the oil and grease. Jesperi freezes. What will that korsto do next!?

“Virgil?” Jesperi squeaks.

Instead, that man points to the room behind Jesperi. Virgil shoves Jesperi into the library room again and closes the door. At that moment, the heels of the shoes clatter against the wooden planks and move around before the steps move closer to the kitchen. The silence grows louder than the laughter before.

“Alright, which one of your dickheads took the crown!?” Matias shouts.

“Well, not me, fucking moron!!” a different voice shrieks back.

“Oh really!?” Matias mumbles, “You ought to tell me what you have as a problem!?”

A loud thud scatters across the mansion, followed by dozens of thunderous slamming and creaking. A shrill roar lasts for a few seconds before an exploding bang.

“You thievin’ bastard, Saku!” Matias roars, “I should have known not to be friends with you, you damn thief!”

Jesperi turns around and dashes the windowsill. Just as his fingers grasp the wooden plank, a loud moan catches his attention.

“Aaaaah! Aaaaah,” the old man stands.

Somehow, the thin man is on his feet. He can fall over at any moment, and his weak knees are already trembling from holding up such little weight on them. Man’s body finger accusingly points to Jesperi’s face, who instead is about to scream at the pale, ghastly man.

“Urgh! Is that old man awake?” Matias mumbles angrily behind the door.

The door’s handle slams against the bald spot on the yellow wallpaper. Jesperi now focuses on the long streak of light following up to his feet. As if the light is holding him on the spot, Jesperi stands on spot to evaluate each tough-looking, drunken and wrathful man at the door. Matias doesn’t say anything. He rushes towards Jesperi, holding up a wide knife.

“GET BACK HERE!!” Matias yowls.

Quick silvery dashes cut through the cold air. Jesperi jumps out of the window, but he feels nothing to land on. For a moment, he flies down, before he feels a strong tug around his wrists. His arm warmers have unravelled into long ladder-like contraptions with irregular steps and dozens of more lines connected around his hands. He has just enough minutes to catch a quick breath before the strings lower him to the soft, mossy carpet, and then tangle around his wrists again. Jesperi runs into the deeper portion of the thin trees.

Jesperi’s eyes cannot catch a glimpse of the broom. Voices are already creeping behind his back and Jesperi keeps running. Around the familiar area, he lifts the thick branch, hops on it and flies off.

…

Jesperi is looking down at the buildings below him. He is right above the rows of apartments, as he lands at the redbricked house. Two stories, with a small attic. Dark blue roof, and intricate decorations at the edges of the almost round house. Jesperi sees light creep out of the store. He comes closer as the bell awakens his half-torpor state.

“Damn it!” he whispers.

“Indeed ‘Damn it’,” Esku echoes, “Where the hell you’ve been?”

“Uuuuh…. dad?” Jesperi now speaks in a normal voice.

“What were you doing, you almost scared me to death,” Esku cries out.

“I just… stole this… bracelet?”

Notes:

Rouva, rva. - Ma'am, Mrs. Herra, hra. - Sir, Mr. Legees - Currency in this universe, inspired by lyres and euros Rinean rockets - You know these red firecrackers from China? These rockets are the counterpart of this universe! Jumalauta - Goddamn, goddamn it Djume - About five centimeters, about two inches Korsto - Big, strong, threatening guy Crown - A nickname for these bracelets

[teddiesbestestpal]

“ So where’s Fey?” Asked Daikimaru Koromaru’s father, the dark brownish red furred eared and tailed dire wolf beastman with long both curly and spiky brownish red hair and brownish red eyes wearing a Yukata with a scar around his left eye said wearing a black with white lines Yukata and wooden geta shoes.
“ I don’t know… probably fetching Ornilean…” Grizzlie the father of Teddie said, the extremely chubby light cyan blue furred ursus deningeri beastman wearing a light cyan with reddish pink accents and golden buttons Pierrot clown outfit and a zipper on his neck said laying back on the meeting room chair.
“ Well he should be here any minut-“ as Fey said this the door opens abruptly.
Fey the father of Morgana, the primarily black furred with white accents sabertooth Tiger beastman wearing a fancy suit with fancy blue gems on them and light black suspenders alongside Ornilean ( Ruferu’s father) a light brown feathered slightly chubby Ornimegalonyx beastman with a dark brown beak and cerulean cobalt blue eyes with little glasses in the middle, wearing a white collar vest dark brown pants a light orange jacket and bowtie in the center.
“ Everyone! Welcome Ornilean!” Fey says as Ornilean steps up.
“ H-Hi everyone! I just want to help everyone with my persona! I’ll be helping out from now on!” He says as everyone smiles at him.
“ Oh! Doesn’t he have that cool persona that lets him analyze shadows for their weaknesses?” Grizzlie says as Daikimaru nods.
“ Yes he does.. it would come in handy during battles…” Daikimaru ponders to himself as Fey cracks an earnest smile going up to Ornilean.
The three other beastman surrounding Ornilean as he lightly blushes.
“I guess we have to break him in don’t we?” Fey said as Daikimaru and Grizzlie licks their lips in anticipation.
“ Ehhhh!” Ornilean says as the three other beastman proceeds to hug him.
Ornilean blushes as the others embrace the new member warmly, looks like Ornilean is welcomed here after all.

[smuttyaf]

Brooklyn Baby

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟑, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.

wc: 5.3k

age gap & mention of drug use | inspired by this song

They say I’m too young to love you

They say I’m too dumb to see

They judge me like a picture book

By the colours, like they forgot to read

You wrap your hands around the microphone string, letting the lyrics slip out in the sweetest way. Eyes roam amongst dizzy faces as your hips sway to the strumming of the guitars filtering through the speakers.

Drunk patrons litter the crowd with lonesome waitresses wandering around putting careless effort into their jobs. Even with cloudy smoke and damp aroma filling the air you get lost in the gentle tune. The fleeting memories of the song being created when sitting with your band mates each playing around with different notes and keys until finding the melodic beat.

Cherry stain lips part releasing your seductive voice, hips continuing to move in rhythm making your way towards the curly hair guitarist as the chorus rolls in.

Well, my boyfriend’s in a band

He plays guitar while I sing Lou Reed

The cord from the mic wraps around Harry’s boots, his gaze on your swaying waist and devilish smokey eyes.

I’ve got feathers in my hair

I get down to beat poetry

And my jazz collection’s rare

I can play most anything

Body passing in front of him as eyes flicker to the gentleman in the back raising his beer bottle to your actions with a whistle.

I’m a Brooklyn baby

I’m a Brooklyn baby

The song pans into the bridge, the beat slowing and your unraveling yourself around him continuing to walk along the stage.

The trailing eyes from strangers didn’t faze you unlike the ones burning in the back of your head. Those forest eyes are the reason why your heart would quicken in pace and stomach tie in knots, not the people filling this dirty bar on Thursday night.

It was those same green eyes that caught your attention in the library just a couple months ago; Flared black jeans with matching band tee towering over you, the zippers on his leather jacket clashing with the wooden table as he leaned in dropping a poorly made flyer: lead singer audition, written with faded ink and sloppy music notes for decoration.

Teeth nibbling down on candy wax while pencil was nestled between your almond nails. Your gaze tore away from the wrinkled paper that fell amongst your algebra homework, to the man who place it in front of you.

And you remember that moment so clearly; the curls that fell amongst his collarbones to the tug at the end of his lips with amusement written all over his face from the satisfaction of catching your wondering eyes. Harry remembers it all too, your face buried in your textbook with pin straight hair pulled behind your ears, plucked brows brought together in confusion. He remembered everything.

“Free tomorrow afternoon?” Were the first words to break the silence. White teeth peeking through the cracks of his lips. You shrug your shoulders, gaze caught on the dimple etching into his cheek. “My band is hosting auditions, you should come.” He suggests, his fingers moving from the paper and flicking his gaze to your questioning eyes.

“I think I’m good…” You mumble, hand reaching out and brushing it off your homework.

That made the smile on the man’s face disappear. His turn now for his expression to resemble confusion, leaning his knuckles onto the table, the smell of cigarettes radiates off his jacket as his head dips down.

“What, why?” He asks, watching you look down at the italic equation in your textbook.

His question made you chew down on your flesh. You already were busy with academics and choir, even with the hounding responsibilities on your back from your strict parents, being in a band was far from what you need to involve yourself with right now.

“Busy with school,” You reveal, meeting back with his gaze that glimmers with thought.

“Oh come on…” He sighed, hand leaving the wood and rolling his eyes playfully, he straightens up, eyes roaming amongst your features. “How old are ‘ya anyways?”

You bite down on your tongue, the warmth in your cheeks burning even brighter when you divert your gaze. “Eighteen.” You murmur, nails digging into your pencil so roughly it’s leaving faint lines in the orange paint.

Whistle draws from his lips at the reveal, his free hand leaving the table to run along his jaw, gaze still lock on your flustered expression.

“You’re young… but you’re also in your final year.��� He shrugs, making you look away from the text and at him once more. “I asked around telling everyone our lead kicked rocks, bailed on us before our gig next week and… well, everyone directed us to you.”

You? Everyone he spoke to directed him to you? Shock is an understatement about how you’re feeling, because you weren’t someone who you thought people acknowledged, especially since you barely spoke to anyone, and the fact that you were referred to for this stranger to audition for only peeked your interest even more.

“Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“Why?”

That made him laugh, deep hearty chuckle ringing your ear drums and rattling your heart strings. The sound so contagious you were softly smiling at the cheer.

“Told me you’re in the choir, have a beautiful voice on ‘ya,” He confesses, inked hands burrowing into his elbows as he crosses his arms over his chest. “So, here I am.” Smile spreading further, the burning in your cheeks tingle to your ears.

You clear your throat, the feeling of your hands glaze with sweat as your heart beat pounds in your ears. Straightening your back, you look towards the scribbled sheet.

“Tomorrow afternoon?” You ask, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you read over the address on the paper.

Harry chews on the inside of his cheek to suppress the happiness coursing through his body — he didn’t know how his other band mates recruitment was going but he believes he was ahead — smiling at you he shrugs with his body leaning off the table.

“Tomorrow for three,” He informs, fingers placing the sheet back onto the textbook.

“Oh… three won’t work, I finish school at two-thirty.” You say quietly, the tangle of nerves bubbling together in your stomach at the sudden realization you might miss this opportunity that you declined only a few seconds ago.

“Love, come anytime you want, we’ll be there.” He states, voice laced with reassure that you smile nervously at the tone.

“T —Thank you sir,” You utter, eyes never leaving the green ones that bore into you.

“Oh baby, no need to call me that, Harry will do just fine.” The term of endearment most likely not meaning anything to him, but everything to you as your thighs squeeze together to contain your nerves.

“Okay… Harry.” You say, relaxed expression now coating your features. Drawing in deep breath he smiles leaning off the table. Bidding you farewell, the events that transpired before you just seconds ago begin to strike.

How are you going to explain this to your parents, you’re auditioning to be in a band amongst people you don’t even know? But, maybe you didn’t need to overwhelm your thoughts, it was just an audition, who’s to say you’re going to get the part.

So, the next day once you heard the chime of the school bell ring to the rough exchange of trains passing through the tracks you were in front of your destination. Red bricked apartment with large peace sign graffiti on the entrance. You retrieved the door open before making your way up the stairs and letting your fingers drum against the apartment door from the flyer.

Curly hair and bright smile greet you again, swinging the door open he immediately lets you in. Your eyes falling amongst two men lying sloppily over a bean bag chair and couch, the smell in the apartment mix between the breeze outside and smoke. You smile shyly at the rest of the band mates, Harry takes his seat down next to the one with shaven head and gestures to the middle of the living room.

“So what song will you be singing?” He ask once you stood by the television.

Clearing your throat your lips pinch together in a straight line, trying to rack your brain of your favourite songs to sing.

“Elvis, always on my mind,” You say, rocking on your heels. Harry turns towards his friend holding the guitar with black nails.

“You got it?” He nods towards him who only smirks back in response.

“Do you know who you’re asking?” Sarcasm evident as he begins to strum the chords.

Swallowing once more before letting the lyrics spill, fingers fumble with the ends of your coat as you try to stare everywhere but those green eyes, however each time you would fail miserably. That didn’t matter though, you never let your voice waver or crack, keeping your head held high as you sing the song like it’s the back of your hand.

With the first vocal out of your plush lips Harry was captivated; your voice like satin mixed with sweetness, the girl next door type of voice you hear singing in the shower… it was everything. He knew by the end of the first verse that you had the spot, the four other tryouts could not top the presence in front of him.

He shared a glance between his friends, fingers skimming across his chin as they all shared the same look.

Twisting your fingers together you finished the song, the strumming of the guitar panning out as Harry clears his voice. The friend sitting in the bean bag chair begins to clap, a smug grin written all over his face.

“Where have you been hidin’ a voice like that?” The man you later find out to be, Johnny questions with laughter.

“I’m in St. Michaels choir,” You say, letting your eyes skim over faces before graciously falling on the curly brunette. “Should I leave my number for a call back?”

It makes the group erupt in laughter, heat raising to your face at the joke you weren’t apart of. Mouth parting slightly about to speak broken apologies, Harry raises off the couch, his fingers lacing together as he looks at you happily.

“No need, you got the part,” Only making the nerves that erupted once you stepped in the room turn into excitement.

Happy smile beaming on your lips as the group erupts in cheers, the guitar strumming a few cords with thrill as they all get on their feet.

Johnny and Ralph introduce themselves; both overjoyed that not only did they find a lead singer in the knick of time but, that you were amazing. From voice to looks, everything about you was mesmerizing.

So, from that moment after school you would either be on your way to choir practice or band. The conflicting schedules of both activities draining you as you still had to focus on school and keep up with your grades but, this was the most fun you’ve ever had. Moving from Ohio to New York you barely made any friends from the 3 months you’ve been in the city. This was the most exciting thing you’ve ever experienced; writing songs in Harry’s apartment on the peeling sofa, going to the diner off Fifth Avenue for lunch, to creeping out the window of your bedroom to attend your gigs knowing you had school tomorrow morning.

It was exhilarating this other part of your life. Actually being in a band and performing, though it wasn’t always pleasing seeing drunk men stumble by the stage or barely book any gigs. It was better then staying at home and going over your notes for the hundredth time.

The drumming draws you out of the memories and you find yourself back in the moment singing the final chorus of the song. Your feet carry you back to Harry as you both lean into the microphone, voices linking together to expel the smoothest conclusion to your gig.

Yeah, my boyfriend’s pretty cool

But he’s not as cool as me

Your heart beat flutters looking at his relax expression with playful smile painting his lips. He was so handsome shining under the stage lights.

‘Cause I’m a Brooklyn Baby

I’m a Brooklyn Baby

Thick mascara lashes look up at him as he stares back, fingers stumming his guitar and hips swaying to the same beat while you both lilt the end of the song gazing into each others eyes.

You knew your cheeks were glowing from your presence next to him when the rattle of the drums drift to conclude the show. Ralph bids the crowd a farewell before you all follow off stage. Crowd sluggishly clapping while everyone retrieved with their belongings into the dressing room.

Just like any other gig each member was handed thirty dollar bills for their performance behind the back of the establishment. You let yours crumble in the pocket of your denim jacket while the three men roll their eyes at the cheap pay.

“One of these day Lotus you’re gonna have to appreciate us,” Johnny said, leaning against the brick wall with drum sticks between his fingers.

“Yeah whatever… we might have some agents come in tomorrow. Some fashion week bullshit going on, maybe it will be your guys lucky day,” He huffs, turning around and letting the door slam shut not waiting for Johnny response.

“Sure,” Ralph remarks, the group beginning to tug their way from the bar heading to the subway.

“Want to break the bill and head to Joey’s?” Ralph questions the group. Johnny beams with a happy smile while you let a frown spread amongst your features.

Everyone in the band knew you were in school, and yes, sometimes you would head with them to their after concerts endeavours but, that still was cutting it close. Shaking your head you let a faint smile spread while the team steps into the cart and take seats along the moving vehicle.

“Sorry guys,” You hush, red nails digging into the polyester of your skirt.

“Don’t think about it Y/N,” Johnny reassures smiling your way. You nod at his acknowledgment before looking towards Harry.

He hasn’t said his response yet and you were dying to know, because even though sometimes you would go out with your band mates during casual settings, Harry was the one band mate you would see more then casually.

It started when he dropped you home late after one gig, then him calling you because he wanted to hear your voice. Soon, he was beginning to catch you after choir practice, having dates at the arcade or spending time at the park watching the ducks roam the pond. Those moments gradually turning to him beginning to sneak in through your bedroom window, or some nights after gigs you would spend a couple hours at his place.

Which is why you’re wondering what his decision is tonight.

The conversation leads to Ralph questioning if everyone saw the waitress spill the beer on the customer, group falling into laughter as the subway rattled with each stop being alerted.

The feeling of shifting feet pushing into you has you turn your gaze away from Ralph’s feathery hair and on Harry who smirks at you, sending a wink your way, making you blush and shift your attention. It was always shy smiles and coy looks with him. Even after spending so much time together you were always so nervous, his compliments still making you glow or the touch of his fingers causing you to shudder at the feel.

You never understood what he saw in you. Always catching him during band practice looking at you or cuddling up next to you on the couch when writing songs. It didn’t matter how many times he reminded you of your beauty or how many nights he reassures with his kisses, you always second guessed your place in his life. Twenty-one, he was three years older than you and had more experience with life, more than you and your sheltered one.

But still you want him, ever since you saw standing in front of you, you wanted him. And even when he told you that you were his, you couldn’t help but overthink.

Franklin Avenue

The two men stand as the cart begins to slow, smiling up at them you say your goodbyes but it grows slightly brighter when you still feel Harry’s presence.

He leans back on the seat, hand drifting to rest along your inner thigh as you turn to look at him. Suppressing the happiness on your face you bite down on your lip, eyes looking amongst his features drinking him in.

“Going home?” You ask, eyebrows rising as he smirks at you, his head leaning in as the heat of him radiates down your thigh.

“Yeah… with you.”

Just like always warmth spreads to your cheeks, your lashes blinking up at him with teeth tearing away from your stained lips, head turning slightly so he doesn’t see your face but he halts your movements. His back straightens, hand going to your chin as he scans your features.

“Stop hiding your pretty face.” Harry comments, voice low yet strong. His finger holds your jaw like that for a moment, just looking at you till it roams amongst your cheek to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You were a blushing mess under his gaze, his steady look on you as he drew against your skin. All you could do was look at him, so stuck in his beauty just as he was with yours. Green eyes alluring under the lamps of the cart, his hair is now cut short compared to when you first met, it was curling gently around his ears looking so soft that you just wanted to reach out in feel.

Eighth Avenue

His hand slides from your thigh and laces with yours resting on the bench, following his movements you stand and let him lead you to his home. With fingers intertwined together and head resting on his arm, you listen to the sound of your heels against the pavement and car horns blare distances away.

It was a comfortable silence entering into the apartment, feet kicking off your platform heels as you crept your way into his messy bedroom. T-shirts and pants are thrown around as if he was looking for an outfit, band posters hanging off the walls while his bedsheets are ruffled against the mattress, yet you couldn’t help but fall into them.

Face nestling into the material and drinking in the sweet smell of Harry. His smell cocooning all over you as you make your way up the bed, hand going to the magazine on his nightstand.

Picking up the Playboy issue you flip through the pages while chewing down on your nails, feet tangling together in the air as you hear shuffling from the bathroom. Humming along to the song you just perform you try not think about how these beautiful women in this magazine can shine so bravely. Thoughts about how they probably walk with such resilience compared to your timid ones.

God, you hate when you get like this, comparing yourself even when it didn’t matter… but you couldn’t help it. The magazines are sprawled amongst his home as if it was the local newspaper, it always made you question your appearance to him no matter what.

“If you stare any longer I might think different of you,” Harry says once entering the room. A shy smile spreads on your lips as you feel his body lie down next you, hand running over your lower back as he leans his head in.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?” You hush, fingers closing the book and placing it back on the table. A chuckle escapes Harry as the warmth of him radiates on your skin that you couldn’t help but relax into his touch.

“Shh!” Harry quiets you with a smile. The gesture making you look up at him, happy to be back in your bubble even if it’s just for a few moments.

But you catch it, the haziness in his gaze to the blown pupils. The joy immediately dying at the look in his eyes. You bite down on your lip, hand lightly touching his chest as he stares at you, his palms continuing to move along your hips listening to your shallow breathing.

“Harry…” You whisper, hand brushing against the burgundy material of his button up.

His fingers trail up your back, curling the ends of your hair around his fingers as he clears his throat. The room still remaining silent as he can see the look in your eye itching to ask him to stop, but don’t. Blinking up at him, your lips run over each other, deep sigh leaving as you swallow hesitantly.

“Do you think there might really be an agent tomorrow?”

Still you’re met with silence, his eyes just running over your features with hands playing in your hair. The quietness and stare making you flush and bite down on your lip, palms beginning to crease with sweat at the shift in his demeanour.

“I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Hand gliding up the expanse of your hair running past your ears and nestling into your neck, his comment with the feeling of his skin brushing against yours only making you smile faintly at him.

The fluster expression resting along your face has him applying pressure to your neck pulling you into his lips. There is a lingering taste of beer as you let him search you, tongues linking together when he envelops your buds making you moan. Your fingers curl into the material of his shirt and pull him even deeper to embrace.

His warm hands wrap around you in the gentlest of ways you can’t help the way your heart flutters. Digits drag along the curve of your neck as he drapes himself over you, his other hand running down the expense of your turtle neck, fingers seeping under the material feeling over your skin as he lets it trail up your side.

Purring under his touch you let your fingers run up his back and into his hair, ruffling his locks while pressing himself into you. Everything he did made you so vulnerable, so helpless, always held captive by his presence. Frankly, you didn’t care if it’s the drugs influencing him to confess his thoughts, you relish in the moment of him having his way with you.

The atmosphere is rush breathing and ruffling clothes, hands shredding every piece as limbs and lips tangle together in the mess. Heart pumping with nerves as stomach quakes in excitement you can’t help the smile that tugs along your lips letting your back nestle into the sheets.

“C’mere,” Harry mutters, hands going to your hips and pulling you down the bed. “Feel what you do to me.”

The grip he his on your waist forcing you to rub over his erection, eyes looking into yours darkly, teeth biting down on his lip as he lets his hands wander. They slip down your waist as his head dips to press kisses down your neck to your stomach.

Trembling fingers run into Harry’s curls tussling them, quiet moans escaping when you feel his breath against your heat, nails curling into his scalp while his palms push your thighs apart, legs wrapping around his head as his mouth leans forward, tongue leaving to glide up your folds.

He hums from the way you taste, continuing to lick generous strokes, fingers curling into your skin as he lies his tongue flat against your pussy, head shaking lazily sending a flutter of arousal up your spine. Hips quivering slightly you let one hand trail to Harry’s jaw, feeling the flex of his mouth as he sucks on your bundle of nerves, a muffled moan electing from him loving the sweetness on his tongue.

Your mind was in a daze, the scene before you as if it were a soft dream with the moonlight shining in; Harry’s hair nestle so pleasantly between your legs, your hands following his motions as his nails leave marks in their wake from the grip he has on you.

With each moan flowing out of your mouth it made him runt his hips into the sheets, your voice dripping in arousal that it only turns Harry on even more. It didn’t matter what you did, everything about you enticed him; from the hairs on the nape of your neck to the beautiful way you sound around him. He was in love.

He knew you questioned your place in his life, he knew you overthought every interaction and every little thing he said; he tries to reassure you, whether it was sweet kisses or genuine words. He tried to program it in your mind that it was you for him, even when your cheeks would tint in shade and teeth bite into flesh he would reassure, especially if it was between your legs.

His hands spread against your hips, green eyes opening to look up at you. He watches your bruised lips part and eyes screw shut. The feeling of your fingers running against his jaw and hips rocking timidly against his movements, it made him groan against your pussy at the sight. Hair framing your face graciously in tangles as your chest heaves in rush breaths, reminding him you were close to coming undone.

“Baby,” You cry, almond nails digging into his skin as you quiver away from his tongue. The spark of your climax trembles through your nerves, the lapping of Harry’s tongue switching from dragging down your folds to thrusting in.

Adoring the term of endearment falling from your lips, his hand draws from your hip and rest along your pelvic bone as he lets his thumb dip between his nose and rub against your clit. Your backside digs into the bedsheets, long drawn out moan escaping your throat as you release all over him.

The friction of his mouth and hand sending satisfying pleasure through you that you go slick around him, nails digging into into his skin while drawing down his neck, hips jerking lazily as he begins to hum only sending vibrations of pleasure through your core.

“Oh my… Harry,” You whimper brokenly trying to catch your breath as he continues to lap up your juices.

The grip he has on you relaxing with sloppy wet kisses lead to gentle pecks as he trails them from your inner thigh to hips, hands running up your body with his lips following. Mouths link together and he immediately moans once they lock, your palms venturing down his sides as you link them into his boxers. Pulling the material down you let your feet tangle with his, waist align with each other.

“You drive me crazy,” Harry mutters breaking away from the kiss.

You take him in your hand, stroking him as he nuzzles into your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he continues roaming his touch down you skin, his hips lean down to let himself brush against your heat. The motion you have on him now running his cock up and down your folds. Harry’s breath against your neck goes shallow at the wetness that meets him.

“You’re so sweet,” He rasps against you as he lets his hips sink in your dripping pussy. Your lungs fill with air as you inhale heavily, the steady feeling of him brushing in as he slides through.

Your head burrows deeper into the sheets once his hips meets yours, palms brushing against his happy trail and link to wrap around his back as his hips draw out to sink back in. His thrusts start out slow and lingering, filling you up making you feel every inch that drags down your walls till they brush up to dive back in. The wetness you expel coating his member with each draw till he begins to pick up paste.

Moans, whimpers, and grunts are shared between you both. Your neck wet with red bruises beginning to swell under the skin. Hot breath drawing against you as it shines with sweat, bodies sticking together with each press of his hips while he rocks inside.

You can’t contain the nerves that rake up your spine; the fact that you just came over his tongue to him filling you up, you’re not even sure you’re registering the moments correctly. But, with the way your mouth is parted open to the feeling of your walls expanding, you didn’t care what haze your mind was in because it was a beautiful one. Harry’s smell completely covering you as his love blooms on your skin, you were filled with happiness.

“So fucking tight,” He grumbles into your skin, his hips continue to drum into you.

This feeling was making you delirious; the way you stretch around him, the juices flowing out with the pleasurable feeling of him pulsing inside you, you weren’t even surprised you felt your second wave of your climax come barreling down. The pillow seeps even deeper as you sink into the bedsheets, Harry nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck as he drives his thrust roughly into you with your walls tighting around him.

“Harry,” You moan, nails tearing his skin as they drag down his back. His fingers twist in your hair with a satisfying groan slipping out.

“Fuck… I love when you say my name,”Vulnerability dripping in his moan making your eyes flutter with satisfaction. Your legs go limb around him as you whimper beneath him.

Toes twisting together with long drawn out moan companying the euphoric warmth of your climax rushing through you. Your body twitches while he keeps his thundering paste, cock diving into your sweet nectar as he fits just in all the right places. The obscure squelching noise mixing with rush breathing and moans as you empty yourself around him.

With the feeling of your pussy coating him to your walls quivering, it had him pulling his hips out, groaning into your neck you feel the warmth of his seed spill down your folds, his body sticking to you as he lets himself completely lie over you, snuggling into your skin.

Both trying to regain yourselves with beating hearts, your fingers relax drawing against each other skin descending down from the high.

Harry body shifts, hips pulling away as he leans back on his thighs. It causes your hands to trail away from him and let them run up your body to cover your breasts. A smirk projects on his lips while you roll your eyes and smile annoyingly.

“Shy?” He remarks, body twisting to reach over grabbing a shirt before letting it wipe between your legs.

“You know how you make me feel,” Rising up on your elbows, you let your foot playfully kick his hip.

“Oh please say that again,” Harry sighs, throwing the shirt across the room and letting himself lie next to you. Fingers run up your side and rest on your shoulders, his head leaning in swiftly to place a kiss on your nose.

“You know how you make me feel.”

Gently laughing you lean in letting your hands roam amongst the expanse of his arm, head digging into the pillows as you feel yourself begin to grow tired, eyes fluttering every few seconds.

“What time should I bring you home,” He whispers, fingers drawing circles on your skin.

“Give me an hour,” You say, letting your eyes close as a chuckle rumbles over you. Head resting along yours he drinks you in, the light from the moon causing you to shine beautifully with the way it casts shadows over your features.

It makes him lean forward and let himself press his lips against yours, kissing you to sleep with the sound of cars blaring on the other side of the wall. This was your favourite moment, nuzzled next to Harry in bed slipping into serenity for just a few hours, not caring about getting home on time or fearful of your parents finding your bedroom empty, you were just happy to be there next to him.

[fantastic-rambles]

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Ainosuke Shindo, Tadashi Kikuchi

Warnings: NSFW, Light BDSM, Bondage, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Mildly Dubious Consent

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: After losing his beef against Langa, Adam starts to reflect on everything that he's done over the years and all the people he's hurt: Tadashi first and foremost. So he asks the other man to help him make amends. [Year of the OTP 2023 @yearoftheotpevent. December: forgiveness]

- - - - - - - - - -

"Come with me."

The command is the same as always, but Adam's voice is softer, with a touch of hesitance. As he glances over his shoulder, Tadashi is quick to obey, falling into his usual place behind him. There seems to be a hint of relief in crimson eyes, but it could also just be a trick of the unsteady moonlight, so Tadashi doesn't say anything, remaining silent as he follows Adam down a narrow, well-worn track. The noise of the crowd is soon swallowed up by the dense trees, the only sound the crunching of dead leaves and twigs underfoot, until they reach their destination: a small shack in a clearing. Adam glances over his shoulder again, as if to check that Tadashi is still there, before he approaches the structure, and Tadashi follows him inside, closing the door behind them.

It might have been a break room for the workers before. But like everything else here, it was abandoned, rediscovered by Adam, and rebuilt to his specifications. The furniture is clean and simple: a wooden bed in the corner, a table with a pair of chairs set around it, a more comfortable armchair in another corner.

A padded sawhorse. A metal X-cross. More paraphernalia is hung neatly along the walls: rope, whips, and chains. The wardrobe has a few special outfits, as well as blindfolds, gags, handcuffs, and other smaller items. Almost everything here has been carefully selected and purchased by Tadashi to meet Adam's demands after careful research and comparison to ensure that everything is of the highest quality. He even installed the heavy hook in the ceiling.

Both of them are familiar with this place: it's where Adam frequently works off his adrenaline after a night at Crazy Rock, allowing himself to ease back into his everyday life. Sometimes, he's drunk on the thrill of a good race, even if he wasn't skating. More often, he's frustrated by the performances that fail to appeal to his imagination. Either way, Tadashi always accompanies him… so he stands in the center of the room, his eyes lowered as he waits for Adam's next command.

Adam doesn't speak, though, as he paces along the wall, his fingers trailing over the tools waiting for him. It's different from usual: he doesn't seem to be thinking about what he wants to use tonight, isn't pausing to inspect one or another more closely. He simply seems to be taking everything in. It isn't until he's finished walking the length of the room that he finally speaks.

"I've hurt a lot of people, haven't I?" he asks as he starts to approach the bed, fumbling at the back of his neck. Swiftly, Tadashi joins him, his fingers replacing his master's to pull down the cleverly hidden zipper before helping him out of his outfit. Adam's already half-hard—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that he's still half-hard—as he flops back onto the plain white sheets, gazing up at Tadashi, who's standing attentively beside him. "And you most of all."

"That's not—" Tadashi starts, but he's interrupted as Adam surges up from the bed, grabbing his jacket collar and pulling him closer, until they're face to face and there's nowhere for him to hide from the desperate crimson gaze. Adam's panting slightly, but it doesn't seem to be his typical arousal as he stares at Tadashi, looking at him for the first time in years.

"I want… let me…" He swallows hard, the anxiety clear in his eyes and the tension in the lines of his face. "Please let me make amends. You can do whatever you want to me. I want you to hurt me as much as I've hurt you. More than that: as much as I've hurt everyone. Anything."

"Aino—"

"Please! Please, Tadashi. I can't ask anyone else. And you… you've seen everything. You know everything I've done. And what I've done to you…"

There is a frantic, slightly wild look on Adam's face, and he drags Tadashi closer, until they are nearly touching each other. His eyes look a little wet, but no tears fall from them: Tadashi doesn't remember when he last saw the other man cry. Years ago, when he was still a child, perhaps, and Adam looks almost as vulnerable now as he did back then.

So he exhales slowly, his own hands rising to carefully wrap around Adam's, feeling the man flinch even at the gentle touch.

"I'll do it," he promises quietly. "Lie down."

He eases Adam back down, gently disentangling his fingers from his clothes and sitting on the edge of the bed, running a hand through the styled blue hair until Adam's calmed down a little, his breathing steadying even as he continues to stare at Tadashi anxiously.

"Wait here," Tadashi says just as softly, waiting for Adam to nod in understanding before he gets up, collecting a few items with brisk efficiency before returning to Adam's side. The other man doesn't resist as Tadashi ties a smooth rope around one wrist, looping it over the head of the bed before attaching the other side to his other wrist, even though he's tense again. And when Tadashi leans closer with a blindfold, he opens his mouth as if he wants to say something, only to press his lips firmly together before any words can escape. Before Tadashi lays the thick cloth over his eyes, he sees them close, and Adam's breath shudders against his ear as he fastens it in place.

Adam's fear is bitter on his tongue, so Tadashi moves a little lower, pressing their lips together and gently teasing at the tense seal until it relaxes enough to allow him to slip inside. Beyond that, he simply kisses Adam softly, undemanding as he waits for Adam to kiss him back, hesitantly. Only then does he deepen the kiss, patiently guiding the other man until the tension in his body also starts to fade and his response is more desperate, trying to cling to Tadashi through their connection. So he doesn't pull away, letting Adam take reassurance from that until he finally breaks it himself, his head falling back against the bed.

"Tadashi… this isn't—"

But Tadashi just shushes him before pressing a kiss to his neck. He feels it shift as Adam swallows, and he continues to pepper it with more kisses as he gradually moves lower, his hand joining his mouth to trail along Adam's collarbone. As he continues to worship the other man's body, Adam makes a sound that's half-whine, half-sob.

"Tadashi, please…"

Tadashi lifts his head from where he's been lavishing attention on Adam's nipple, climbing back up his body so he can rest a hand against Adam's cheek, brushing it gently with a thumb before silencing him with another kiss pressed against trembling lips.

"You don't need punishment," he whispers. "What you want is forgiveness… but I've never resented you, Ainosuke-sama. I know how you feel right now: hating yourself, wanting some external validation, someone to be the God to judge your sins… but in the end, that's just vanity and self-satisfaction. You're no longer a child: they don't know right from wrong, so punishments are used to reinforce behavior until they develop their own moral compass. But if you truly understand that what you've done is wrong and regret it, punishment is just superfluous."

Tadashi also had Hasegawa to thank for that realization: until tonight, he'd accepted whatever Adam had done to him as punishment for his own transgressions. But that had never resolved their underlying issues. Reaching out to him and supporting him despite everything, truly seeing him for himself… that was what he should have done all those years ago.

So even as Adam continues to protest, starting to fight back against Tadashi, Tadashi simply pins him down and continues to love every inch of him, covering his skin with kisses and caresses. And when he finally lowers himself between Adam's legs, his master is hard and weeping. So he kisses him there, too, lavishing his attention on the thick shaft and heavy balls until Adam's trembling with need. Only then does he take Adam into his mouth, teasing and licking and sucking until the other man groans and starts to come. Tadashi swallows all of it, starting to carefully lick Adam clean, only to be interrupted by Adam's voice.

"Tadashi…" he whines again, breathy and desperate, and Tadashi lifts his head to look at Adam, licking his lips and letting the tip of his tongue flick against the swollen head to see him flinch. Adam's hands are twisted in the cords binding him, his body flushed and beautiful as he continues to squirm, though it seems like he's no longer trying to pull away.

"What is it, Adam?" Tadashi asks quietly.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything that I've done to you. Everything that I've made you do. This… this is enough. Stop. Please, stop."

"I love you."

It's the first time he's ever said those words, and they seem to shock Adam into silence.

"I'm sorry, too, for always looking away from you, especially when you needed me the most. I'm sorry for trying to take away one of the few pleasures you had. Above all, I'm sorry for my silence."

He reaches out to push the blindfold up, exposing Adam's eyes that simply stare at him, shocked and uncomprehending.

"I'm sorry," Tadashi repeats softly. "Can you forgive me?"

Adam stays silent, and Tadashi waits patiently for him to absorb everything he's said… until Adam suddenly inhales with a sharp, shuddering gasp.

"Yes. Yes, Tadashi. Thank you. But you're wrong: you've always been there, next to me. Doing everything for me. You never abandoned me, and I always just took you for granted. I… I love you, too."

He tugs at his restraints, and Tadashi unties him so that he can sit up, wrapping his arms around Adam when the other man collapses against him, shaking in his embrace as Tadashi continues to whisper reassurances. He doesn't know how long they've sat there together, drawing comfort from each other just like when they were children, but eventually, Adam straightens up, and Tadashi lets go, sitting back on his heels to gaze at the other man with quiet expectation.

"You'll… stay with me, then?" Adam asks in a whisper, and a faint smile tugs at Tadashi's lips.

"As long as you want me to."

"Forever."

"I'd like that."

Adam's gaze shifts, taking in the small cabin, and then he sighs.

"I guess we don't need this anymore, then."

Still smiling, Tadashi reaches out to rest a hand on Adam's cheek, caressing it with his thumb again.

"Do you want to get rid of it?"

"After everything I've done…"

"That wasn't what I was asking." Leaning forward, Tadashi presses a soft kiss to Adam's lips, gazing into his eyes as he whispers against his lips. "If you no longer want this place, I can get rid of it for you. But at the very least, I've never completely hated what we've done here."

He sees the wonder creep into Adam's eyes, though it's still shadowed by uncertainty.

"Do you… mean that?"

"I won't lie to you, ever again," Tadashi promises, and Adam finally smiles, too, shy and hesitant, before he leans in to kiss him back.

[happybird16]

Carriage

Levi Ackerman / Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Smut, Handjob, Oral sex (M receiving), Face fucking, Sort of subby Levi.

Summary: You and Levi have some alone time in a carriage. Based on the Episode 68 promotional image of Levi.

Word Count: 1.7k

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37371889

Note: Listen I've been thinking about Levi in that official art from episode 68 for awhile (it's my background image on my page) then @bibblelevi mentioned licking his pubic hair this morning and it spiraled into this. This is not the wip I was working on lol. Sorry if it's super rough.

The carriage is dark, a warm golden light barely spilling through the window high above your head. The leather of your boots creaks as you lower yourself between his spread knees. The hard wood is rough, the coarse grain grating against the fabric of your knees. It’s exhilarating to see Levi like this, fully dressed in his formal uniform, buttoned up to the nines, and yet rock hard with need. Arms crossed, glaring down at you with heat in his gaze. His ears are slightly pink at the tips, tinged dark with arousal.

Sliding your hands along the fabric of his thighs, the white fabric is surprisingly soft against your caressing digits. Despite his formal jacket blocking your view, you can see him twitch beneath you. His shoulders are shaking with needy breaths; his mouth still wet and swollen from the press of your own.

“We don’t have a lot of time.” Your words are a warning as much as they are an offer.

The carriage jolts and bumps beneath your knees, wheels rolling along the uneven road as you approach your destination. The leather of his boots press into your sides in need. A hand rises to cup the back of your head in a soft clasp, his fingers lightly caressing your hair.

“Suck me.” He always tries to come off as commanding until he breaks the persona in his desperation. Still, there’s already a breathy, needy lilt to his order.

Sliding a hand up from caressing his muscles thighs, you palm him, caressing his length through the white fabric. He gasps at the touch, a sharp breathy noise, before releasing a light groan. Pressing into your grasp, you can feel him twitch and throb against your palm.

“You want my mouth?” You enjoy the flush deepening in his ears, spreading along his cheeks as you tease him.

“Yes. Obviously.” He clicks his tongue, glaring down at you despite the heat in his face.

Metal clinks as you undo the belt at his hips, loosening the material of his final jacket. Leaving it open, you push the jacket up to undo the belt at his waist. Hands working open the button and zipper of his uniform pants, you begin to tug the fabric down. He rises, shifting slightly; hands moving to aid you. Pushing the material as far down as you can, it bunches around the leather of his boots. Eyeing the dark spot growing at his twitching tip, his underwear quickly follows.

You can’t help but pause to take in the sight of him. Upper uniform still untouched, the fabric still wrinkleless and pressed to perfection. The bottom half of him; pants and underwear bunched up against his boots. His firm thighs bare, muscles tense with need. There’s a light dusting of dark hair along them, the feel of them wiry against your hands. There’s a dark patch of hair around his throbbing desire, neatly trimmed to perfection. You can’t wait to press your tongue against it. The contradiction of his image makes you throb with need.

His cock is twitching in the open air of the carriage, flushed tip dribbling with need. Dark pink and bobbing with every small twitch of his hips, the sight makes your mouth water. The hand on the back of your head becomes heavier, pulling you towards him in urgency.

Grasping the base of his bare need, you start out with slow, firm strokes. He groans, a deep resonating sound. You can hear the leather of his boots slide against the wooden floor, his legs tensing as he thrusts into your grasp. Teasingly, you press your tongue to the trim hair around his base. You lap at it, wetting the wiry hairs as he twitches and thrusts into your grasp. He tastes of soap, along with something musty and rich that’s uniquely him. The scent fills your nose with every breath, making your head buzz and your mouth water in arousal.

He gasps and groans as you lap along the hair along his balls; they twitch and shift under your attention. Bucking hard into your firm grasp, you caress him in quick twisting strokes. He slams a hand down into the leather cushion beneath him, nails digging into the material. Gasping as you suck one into your mouth, he pleads for more, finally breaking his persona.

“Fuck. Please.” For such a foreboding man, he gets so whiny when he’s in need.

Holding him along the base, you hum, finally licking a stripe along the underside of his cock. You can already taste the salt that’s dribbled along his length. Tongueing along the sweet curve along the underside of his head, his hips twitch and jolt beneath your firm grasp. White oozes from his slit and you helplessly press your tongue into it; wanting more of that tangy salt.

“F..fuck..” He whines your name, nails digging into the back of your head. His gaze hasn’t left your face once in your exploration, dark eyes burning you with their need. The sound makes you clench, the pain makes you gush even more.

Swirling your tongue around him, you finally suck the tip into your mouth. He releases a breathy sigh, head slamming back against the hardwood of the carriage wall. His gaze finally leaves you, eyes pinching tight; mouth open in pleasure. He gasping, groaning, you watch his Adam’s apple bob with each desperate breath. Sweat beads along his hairline, ruining the perfect image of his upper half.

He releases a low moan as you slide him as far into your mouth as possible. The sound is beyond exciting, deep and breathy in a way that makes you want to hear more. You bob, sucking hard and lapping along his head, enjoying the sounds he’s making. The gasps, the moans, legs twitching and shuddering against your sides. Enjoying the feel of him, hot, heavy and throbbing against your tongue. Hips twitching in aborted thrusts against your firm grasp.

Releasing your clasp at his hip, you thread your fingers with his in your hair. He gets the message immediately. Releasing the desperate grasp on the seat cushion, his other hand rises to join its twin in cupping your head. With a deep breathy groan his hips begin to jerk up off of the carriage seat, thrusting himself deep into your mouth. With both hands, you grasp his hips, aiding in pulling him into you.

“Yes, F..fuck! S’good.” He panting now, eyes closed and teeth bared in his pleasure. Frantically, he raises a hand to cover his mouth, attempting to quiet his own blabbering pleas. Desperate for air, his shoulders are heaving so hard with each gasping moan.

Caressing his firm ass, you enjoy the feel of his muscles moving as he thrusts into your mouth. He’s deep enough to make your eyes water slightly, but it’s exhilarating instead of uncomfortable. Swirling your tongue underneath the shaft, you trail your tongue along the flushed tip at every thrust. It makes him twitch, and groan in your grasp, thrusts getting faster and more desperate.

“M’close. Where?” Your name comes from his lips in a soft whine, the sound barely buffered by his hand. His eyes struggle to meet yours at his question.

He makes a choking noise as you hum around him, pulling his ass to thrust him harder against your mouth. You can’t afford to leave a mess.

“F..fuck! Y..yeah? You want me to come inside you? Ngh! Fuck!” His gaze strays from yours, head slamming back against the hard wood with a hard thunk.

He shudders hard, hips jerking into your mouth. Nails dig into the back of your head as he pulls you forward, thrusting deep into your throat. He’s as deep as possible, your nose digging into his saliva soaked pubic hair. You hum at the depth, managing to avoid gagging. With several hard thrusts, he pulls tight, muscles tense as he shudders in climax. He releases a choked groan, loud in the small space despite the barrier of his hand. He twitches, gushing warm and salty spurts deep into your throat. Swallowing, you pull off to catch the final ropes of his hot seed against your tongue. You revel in the salty taste of him, as he twitches and shudders at the end of his release.

The hand on the back of your head beckons you forward, rising up on your knees to meet him for a hard kiss. His tongue swipes roughly against your own, gathering up his own taste. Levi goes limp after, body suddenly heavy with released pleasure. He closes his eyes, leaning back against the hard wood as he attempts to catch his breath. You pillow your head against his bare thigh, watching him recover and enjoying the usual sight of him out of breath and drenched in sweat. You did this. His fingers continue to caress your hair and along the back of your head as he takes deep breaths.

The top half of him is ruined now, you think, the normally pristine uniform slightly rumpled from the excitement. Running your hands soothingly along his thighs, you feel the carriage suddenly jolt to a stop beneath your knees. The timing is so close to perfect, you could have used a few more minutes to get him settled. Maybe even another hour, to deal with your own needs.

The both of you hurriedly jolt to fix his appearance. He stands, tucking himself back into his pants as you rise to attempt to straighten his dress shirt and jacket. He’s still sort of sweaty, even after you swipe along his hairline with a handkerchief. His ears are still flushed pink too, hopefully no one will notice. Standing makes you realize the strain in your knees and the wetness between your thighs. You huff under his teasing gaze as he fixes your hair; he surely knows the condition you're in.

“Meet me in my office later.” He says it just as he opens the door to the carriage, looking back at you over his shoulder. His gaze is still full of heat, despite the fact that he had just come so desperately. His words are a command as much as they are an offer, one you’ll never turn down.

[callmeblake]

From shakedownto1979 on twitter/X (1, 2, 3)

Frank Iero in Rock Sound 310

Photo Credit: Mitchell Wojcik

[hunterthecharmer]

Wait Up For Me

**This was inspired by Brett Eldredge’s song off of his new album. Give it a listen for all of the warm & fuzzies. Plus, Brett’s voice is magic. Makes you…feel things.**

It had been almost 3 weeks since you’d seen Austin, as he was currently touring different cities to celebrate and promote the release of the Elvis movie. Obviously you had tagged along for many of the stops, but 3 premieres in you caught a bit of a stomach bug and decided it’d be best to stay behind to rest.

Austin insisted on hiding you away in an old cabin he owned, but rarely had a chance to use. It was located deep within the state of Virginia, nestled beneath bountiful pine trees.

During your stay it had snowed, but within the last few days the sun had come out to melt it all away. You had enjoyed making hot tea each day, allowing your body the space and time to fully heal. Austin had made sure the fridge was stocked for you, and all around the cabin there were fuzzy blankets to curl up in.

The clock in the kitchen chimed just as it hit 10pm, stirring you from your nap. You had fallen asleep on the brown leather couch in the living room- the decor of sunsets, snowstorm parties & childhood memories lived within wooden frames along the walls. The floor had a red & beige rug with tiny bears printed onto it, and on the coffee table was a single candle along with a stack of books. The tiny flame and starry sky had put you to sleep earlier than you would have liked many nights, and just as you sat up to stretch, your phone rang. It was him.

“Hi, darling.” You half whisper, your free hand running itself through your hair to straighten it out. 

“How’s my girl? Did I wake you?” You hear a slight chuckle in his question, his voice low & raspy- no doubt from a long day of travel. You look at the time. “She’s doing well. The clock actually beat you to it.” You smirk, standing from your place on the warm couch to look out the window. The long road to the cabin was covered in fog, and the stars were twinkling. “Well, I know you’re probably ready to get some sleep but, I’d love it if you could stay up a little longer. I’m comin’ to see you.”

You had heard enough- immediately tiptoeing to your room, you turn on the bathroom light and begin to brush your hair, apply a bit of perfume and pat some moisturizer into your skin to make your cheeks glow. You had been so excited to see him- it sent chills down your skin just imagining him finally here, with you. No distractions, no premieres, no press or fans, just you and your man. You imagined his lips pressed to yours, the feel of his warm hands on your skin.

Half an hour later, your eyes begin to droop. “C’mon, Aus..” you mumble, watching for his headlights out the bedroom window. Finally, you see them. 

“You’re here! You’re finally here!” You shout, running to him as he grabs his suitcase from the trunk. You cannot wipe the grin on your face. He’s wearing a white t shirt, blue jeans and a leather jacket. His blonde hair is perfectly disheveled from a long drive, and his cologne is intoxicating. “Hi, baby.” He smiles into your deep kiss, dipping you slightly.

You follow him inside, carrying his backpack on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you open that first zipper there.” Austin motions toward his bag on your shoulder, and you tilt your head in confusion. “You got me a gift?” You wink at him, before looking inside to see the tiniest bouquet of flowers. “I had to get them for you. I hadn’t ever seen someone cut down the stems so short- they were adorable.” He blushes, looking from the flowers to your face for your reaction. 

Feeling your eyes begin to well up, you place the bouquet on the kitchen counter and swiftly wrap your arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you so much. To think you saw these and thought of me amidst all that you’ve got going on…” you allow your train of though to fade, bringing his lips down to yours and removing his jacket. Austin follows your lead, gently placing both hands on either side of your face to more passionately kiss you just before bringing one down to your side to guide you toward the bedroom. 

His warm hands glide across your back- the silk gown you’re wearing is one of his favorites.

Running your fingers through his soft hair, you both fall onto the bed- Austin being sure to place one of his palms behind your head just as you lie down. He is always such a gentleman.

“Thank you for waiting up for me, baby.” He whispers into your ear, just before gently nibbling your earlobe. It sends a shiver up your spine. Feeling his warm breath on you, you place a hand on his neck to pull him even closer. Looking into his twinkling blue eyes, you kiss his nose.

 “I’d wait on you forever.”

-------

Go easy on me! I am a little rusty but let me know your thoughts :)

[cinnaminyoons]

( KILL ME AFTER DINNER. )

ミ☆ what do you say to a good drink after a hearty meal?

⤷ PAIRING pjm x m!reader

⤷ WORD COUNT 4.7k

⤷ TAGS vampire!jimin, vampire hunter!reader, blood + blood drinking, drinking/alcohol mention, mention of killing, double entendres galore + suggestive content

⤷ REQUESTED

hii could you write a jimin x male reader one shot where jimins obviously an idol and the reader is his bodyguard? i have no real idea for the plot so that’d be up to u! just smth along these lines

“—our crime correspondent, live from the scene. these grisly crimes have seen a recurrence – is this the work of the first killer, or a copycat?”

“good evening, lisa. the police have brought in some of their best investigators over the past twenty years to search the residence you see behind me. as of yet, they haven’t labelled it as either, though what has been gathered points to the original killer having resurfaced.”

“i understand the case is breaking as we speak, but can you tell us anything that hints towards their motive? we began with the bodies of criminals. now we are seeing our second fairly well-to-do neighbourhood closed off with police tape.”

“sergeant moon released a statement earlier online discussing this. he believes the killings are “for pleasure”, citing a lack of selectivity between victims. he and the authorities plead citizens to abide by the new eight o’clock curfew and to refrain from walking home alone. lisa.”

the anchorwoman thanks him and turns towards the camera, repeating the curfew and its rules gravely. her slim-fitting dress is black and white with a gold belt, wrapping around her torso like a fashionable dressing gown.

the laptop on the stool – a makeshift coffee table – pings rapidly. the screen is full of separate news articles and documents. a folder of crime scene photographs sits open across the keyboard.

your current motel room, at first glance, could be a vagrant’s. there’s a bed and an olive sleeping bag in the corner, a tacky yellow couch, and a small flat-screen television on top of a drawer. the card hanging on the door handle has been saying “do not disturb” for two days.

absently, you toss a hunting knife in the air, catching it by the wooden handle. “i’ve gotten a job as some security guy. got the email soon as i arrived. was that you?”

“bodyguard,” yoongi corrects over the phone. “yeah, that was me. i’m still waiting for your gushing thanks.”

“yoongi, you know i hate these guarding gigs. i couldn’t have been a janitor or something? relatively high turnover, less suspicious, and nobody looks at the janitor.”

“kid, have you looked in a mirror the last – what, five years? seven? to these people, there’s no way someone like you would be a janitor. if you were forty years older, maybe, but not when you’re young and beautiful.”

you sigh and make sure it’s loud enough for him to hear. “taking cleaning jobs isn’t age-restricted.”

“but it’ll get you second glances, which is exactly the opposite of what you want. what normal person would see an intimidating bodyguard and keep staring at them?” papers rustle. “i’ve got other things to do, these bills don’t pay themselves. find your monster, kill it, then call me again.”

“fine. oh, one more thing.”

“yeah?”

“check your mini-fridge. top shelf.”

a slight pause. the clink of aluminium. “oh, yn, you’re a godsend.”

“you’re welcome. safe travels.”

“safe travels.”

he hangs up first, likely off to enjoy his gift.

you toss your phone onto the bed and open the wardrobe near the bathroom. the suit in its cover has yet to see light, as you much prefer the mobility of a simple jeans-and-jacket combo, but you’re thankful that hoseok insisted on measuring you for one anyway. this way, you don’t have to wait another few days for it to be made and dropped off.

pulling the zipper down the cover reveals a tailored suit and a matching tie. a brown shoebox sits at the bottom. you touch the material, getting a feel for how it’ll sit on you.

hoseok had spent half an hour with you beside a book of cloth squares, all different colours and different patterns. you’ve never been especially concerned whether this or that shade of blue matches your skin tone better or if your lapels are notched or peaked, so you put your hands up and left it in the hands of the master.

you spend a moment appreciating the suit. hoseok had spared no expense, as usual.

the clock on the wall reads seven twenty. you have your first meet with the boss at quarter past. with your… contacts, you’d been able to skip past the first few levels of security, which would usually take a newbie several years to pass. you don’t have that sort of time, nor do you think you could stand the work for so long.

it’s for the job, you sigh to yourself as you wiggle the tie into position. you lean against the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror.

the bruise on your cheek has healed over completely. it had been why you had to sit and rot away in the hotel room for so long. can’t make bad impressions.

“it’s just a job trial,” you tell your reflection. “you’ve done those before. you’ll ace it.”

you furrow your brow. you push off of the ledge and shake your head, stepping out of the bathroom. “talking to myself, now? i need a drink…”

—

the job trial, as you’d put it, is the single most godawful thing you’ve ever had to suffer through.

your client is an idol at a fansign event. there’s a big crowd – high hundreds, probably – waiting for their turn to make eye contact with him and later boast to their friends.

for the event, you’re one of the ones on crowd control. far enough away from the client that a newcomer such as yourself isn’t able to pull a one-eighty and hold them hostage or whatever, but close enough to be called important.

it’s all quite ordinary. sure, there’s whispered excitement and an absurd amount of squealing and random ‘i love you’s, but nothing that requires anyone’s help. so, you do what your new boss told you to do: look scary and don’t fall asleep.

at the end of it, fans trickle out happily, chirping to each other about how sweet he was and how he remembered a few from past meetings. you haven’t gotten close enough to tell what he looks like – just that his hair’s platinum blond and his jacket is red and sequinned.

you’re called to the back of the centre with two others: a female driver and a male passenger-seater. they get themselves into the black suv – lots of leg room – and you have the wondrous role of door-opener. but not too soon, you remind yourself as your boss speaks to you through the earpiece, or the temperature of the car will be ruined.

you can spot him a mile away. not because he’s eye-catching like a diamond in dirt, but because there’s a train of black-suited men that precede him. the way they approach and fan out a few metres from you into the front and rear cars is practised and smooth.

you open the door perfectly – just in time for him to slide in without stopping. but he… doesn’t.

he pauses next to you. he’s a dainty little thing, with sweet brown eyes and dangling earrings that catch the light like glass. he tilts his head.

“i haven’t seen you around before.”

his voice is curious. he speaks so softly it is almost a whisper and you have to lean in to ensure you catch his words. the playful smile he tosses you is knowing. he does it on purpose.

you hadn’t been instructed on what to do if he spoke to you. it was assumed you wouldn’t. “first day today,” you say. you wonder how to address him. “sir.”

his smile grows wider. “first time? you seem to know what you’re doing. really handsome, too… how has nobody claimed you yet?”

you blink. “uh – thanks.”

“hm.” slowly, his eyes rake over your figure and he draws his plump lower lip between his teeth. he seems to find particular interest in the knot of your tie. “good luck, cutie. don’t let them bully you.”

with that, he slides into the car with all the grace of a prince. you remember to shut the door after him and step back, watching the cars drive off one at a time.

a hand slaps onto your shoulder. “i think that’s the longest he’s ever chatted with any one of us.”

you’d forgotten there were others here.

“you did good today, newblood. what do you say to an after-work gathering, hm? celebrate a job well done.”

you raise an eyebrow. “wasn’t today quite standard?”

he laughs loudly and slaps your shoulder again, steering you towards a small group of men and women. “oh, yes. we just don’t often get newcomers. what do you say? drinks are on me!”

oh, a drink. after two days of boring sobriety, that sounds heavenly.

—

your client’s name is park jimin. he’s a dancer and a singer, has a very secretive pre-concert tradition, and is twenty-six years of age.

legally.

it’s a month into your new routine. jimin had taken a special interest in you and requested you be promoted to a title where you’d be as physically close as possible – you now accompany him everywhere, from clothes shopping days to dance practice sessions.

during that time, what you’d suspected after your initial meeting had only been cemented. it was too much to be anything else. the mesmerising charisma that had people tripping over themselves, the coveted flawless pale skin, the razor-sharp memory.

but before you can do anything, you must ensure you haven’t been wasting your time.

the backstage staff corridors could not be any narrower. two people can hardly fit shoulder-to-shoulder and it’s lit with bright, metre-long artificial lights. they’re attached to the walls and give the occasional audible pop.

you pass by several dressing rooms on your right, avoiding crashing into people in black clothes by pressing up to the doors. they nod to you as they pass, and you nod back. jimin’s missing and several guards are out searching for him.

something snags the back of your jacket and hauls you into the dressing room.

“there you are,” you say evenly, straightening your jacket. “they want to touch you up one more time. you’re needed in makeup, sir.”

jimin hums as he moves around you, leaning against the door with his hands behind his back. his eyes capture yours, glittering beneath crushed pearl-dusted eyelids.

he blinks up at you, fluttering his eyelashes. “look at me. do you think i need a touch-up?”

if you hadn’t been listening for it, you would never hear the quiet click of the lock.

“that’s what they want. have you been hiding here all this time?”

“yes. this room’s supposed to be inaccessible.” he steps forward. his pure-white outfit sparkles with every movement. “clever, aren’t i?”

“i need to take you to—”

he holds up a hand and smoothly interrupts, “there’s a sentence i like to hear. ‘i need to take you.’ are you going to go through with it, cutie?”

he keeps his eyes on yours as he moves closer, dragging his hands up your sides beneath your jacket. he’s fairly slender, you note as he presses his front to yours. probably doesn’t weigh a lot.

he pushes lightly as he steps forward, and your body follows him silently, arms by your sides. another step and the back of your legs touch the edge of the long table under the mirror.

“that’s it, cutie,” he croons against your throat. his lips brush against your skin and you can’t deny the spark of heat that shudders through you. he tangles his fingers in the hair at the nape of your neck. the other hand strokes your side in slow, even stripes. “relax… it’ll hurt less.”

you turn slightly to watch him from the mirror wrapping the room. his rose-pink lips part, revealing perfect white teeth – and long, thin canines drawing down to a dangerous point.

he freezes as the subtle burn of silver presses against his ribs through his clothes. it’s gentle, but the small size of it is disproportionate to the weight it seems to crush him with, pinning him down.

it’s a threat.

“you aren’t affected,” jimin says, his eyes flicking up to yours. his gaze is steady.

“no.” he’s motionless, arms still resting on your shoulders. you incline your head slightly. “apologies. i had to make sure you were one.”

his lip curls. his canines look human – a simple glamour. “a hunter, too? how disappointing.”

“you vampires are tight-knit groups,” you say, ignoring his words. “i’m looking for one. few centuries old, reasonably tall, ginger hair and a beard. powerful illusionist.”

he glares. “i have a concert in five.”

“i spent a month being your chauffeur and delivery boy… surely you can pay me back with this morsel of information. from what i hear, he’s not well-liked in your circles, either.”

“doesn’t mean i’ll give up one of my own,” he snaps. “what stops you from coming after the rest of us after him?”

you shrug and smile, a little mockingly. “i keep my promises.”

his gaze flickers over your features, lingering on the scar that curves over your cheek. “i betray my kind and you give me your word that you won’t kill the rest of us. is that it?”

“smart boy.” the blade shifts and the point begins to slide between the threads of his clothes. a single twitch and he’s going to have a very ugly mark on his skin. “i have no desire to see you all forever six feet under. you can know reason – unlike the one i’m searching for.”

you stand up, no longer leaning on the table, and jimin’s face tilts up to continue his defiant eye contact. “he’s killed your people, too,” you say softly. “he’s betting on the fact that none of you wants to come after kin. this can be to our mutual benefit.”

jimin presses his lips together.

“fine.”

you lift a brow. “yes?”

“fine, i’ll tell you what i know. after the concert.”

you pull the knife away and tuck it back up your sleeve. jimin backs away instantly, crossing his arms over his chest. his eyes follow you as you move across the room.

“good,” you say, and unlock the door. you step aside and sweep your arm towards the hall, inclining your head. “i will drive you home as usual, sir.”

the concert begins and finishes without a hitch. like a well-oiled machine, bodyguards and security feed their client through passageways and back doors until he reaches a black sedan, where you wait inside.

a while later, jimin doesn’t spare a glance at you as he exits the car. you mill about in the car out the front of the white-and-gold hotel until you are called by jimin’s manager – he wants you, she says, up in his room.

the panel to the right of the door has the “do not disturb” light flicked on. fancy. you rap your knuckles on the wood and hear the lock slide out on the other side. it swings inward when you press down on the handle.

jimin lays across the black loveseat with his bare legs tucked up next to him. behind him, the city lights twinkle past a wall of glass so clear you feel as if you can walk through it. the room is big enough to be a small apartment.

between gold-ringed fingers sits a glass of deep ruby liquid. wine, you think wryly, but then he lifts the rim to his lips and it flows thickly down the curve of the glass. no, not wine tonight. something far tastier.

“what’s all this?” you ask sardonically, gesturing to the lamps scattered around. they all emit the same even golden glow, like a romantic candlelit dinner. “all for little old me?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” he humphs, turning towards a small platter of grapes beside him. “i’ve lived in squalor for a long time, thanks to you. i deserve luxury.”

you take a place next to the fireplace – fake, of course – and cross your arms. “what will you do once your youthful looks can no longer be passed off as good genes? return to the slums?”

“i will head off on my military service, then slowly remove myself from the spotlight. i’ll say i settled down, started a family i want to raise in peace.” he closes his lips around a grape. “a few illusions here and there until i can pass as my own son or a blessed doppelgänger.”

“how delightful. now, i believe you had something for me.”

“i want payment first.”

it piques your curiosity. “payment?”

“yes. a favour.” he swirls his glass before setting it down. “like you, i need to eat.”

you nod your head towards the glass. “you seem to be doing perfectly fine by yourself.”

“i’m not a killer, if that’s what you’re insinuating. i have a health condition that requires a hospital check-up every few months.” one arm wraps around himself, pinching the cloth and defining his waist. his fingers press against his bottom lip.

he continues, “i really do like you. level-headed, not too hard on the eyes. while what happened in the dressing room gave me quite the scare, i’m willing to look past it and offer my services for a small price.”

you shift your weight from one foot to the other, no longer resting against the fireplace. slowly, with a dawning awareness, you say, “you want a three-course blood bag.”

“don’t degrade yourself like that.” he’s been moving closer steadily and now places his palm over your chest, playing with the opening of the breast pocket. he drags his nail over your jugular, pressing into it until your pulse throbs against the cool pad of his finger. “i’ve grown attached to you. i won’t kill you.”

“i’m refillable, then.” his finger pauses on your collarbone. “you do understand that this goes against every instinct i have, don’t you?”

“well,” jimin says, “humans are self-destructive by nature.” he smiles, almost a smirk. “so, what do you say, cutie?”

if you agree, and jimin offers what he knows, you could save a lot of your time. depending on what he tells you, you could even gain the upper hand. you could save yourself injuries and end the streak of murders before it grows longer.

the only thing he asks for is for you to go against everything you’ve ever learnt and drop all your defences. hell, might as well roll out a red carpet for him. in such a state, he could make you soft and pliable and tear your throat out without much – if any – resistance.

“what happens if i refuse?”

“you wanted this before. you’re changing your mind so quickly? the big bad wolf can’t stand being powerless, can he?” he pouts, picking up his wine glass delicately by the rim and sliding something long and thin out of the stem.

it’s some sort of dagger – is that diamond? – and he lifts it with a flourish. “i’ll scream for help and they’ll find you standing over my dead body. goodbye monster hunting, and hello jail time. even your little friends would have trouble trying to pull you out of that.”

“you enjoy being a nuisance.”

“i do, yes. more than usual, because you are so fun to rile up.”

he’s good. very good. he let you believe you had sway over him, then flipped the gun and pointed it back at you.

he smiles – the spider who’s caught the fly. his gaze is magnetic, heavy, and promises good things… as long as you play along. “i’ll take my bonus now. jacket off, cutie. i don’t want to ruin such fine craft.”

“i have,” you unbutton the jacket and shrug it off with more force than necessary, “a name.”

“not one that i care for. after tonight…” he giggles softly, loosening your tie and devouring each sliver more of skin revealed to him. “i’ll be calling you mine.”

—

jimin is insatiable once you start. he refuses to give you anything until you’ve paid for it first, and once you do, he offers one at a time like a casino dealer meticulous about stacking dealt cards.

night one: he works alone.

night two: he conducts his business near the port.

night three: he spends a lot of time in bars.

it’s not until the fourth night that he gives you a name. goes by ‘vaughn’. you probably wouldn’t have gotten it until at least the seventh day if you hadn’t been especially persuasive.

while the news anchors can have something good to finally tell their viewers, you can’t be sure you needed all of his information to do so. you’ve certainly completed jobs on less...

but – all in a night’s work. washed blood and brick dust out of your hair for ages. soon enough, you’ll be on the road again.

despite your reserves, jimin is always very careful about how he goes about taking his payment. you never feel dizzy or fatigued when you pull your jacket back on, and most of the time you don’t have to change clothes once he’s done with you.

he does, however, have a special fondness for you in white shirts.

“change, go change,” he says, pushing you towards the bathroom. “roll your sleeves up, i want to celebrate our victory and teamwork.”

there’s a white dress shirt waiting for you on a hanger on the back of the door. looking closer, you can discern the paisley on it. you’re not exactly sure why he’d chosen a pattern tonight – to match his own charcoal jacket and black lace choker, perhaps?

nevertheless, you put it on, laying your own near the sink. you leave the collar open and step out of the bathroom, flattening the folds of your sleeves.

“there he is,” he purrs. “your heart’s beating faster tonight. am i finally breaking through your stone-cold facade?”

“it isn’t a facade.” you watch as jimin reaches up and undoes another button of your shirt, creating a deep v that he traces lightly with his fingertips. he sighs appreciatively.

“isn’t it? ah, denial over attraction – men like you are my favourite.”

“i’m not in denial about that.”

“so you do think i’m pretty.”

“stop twisting my words.”

he giggles and pushes you back onto the loveseat. as if it’s second nature, he swings his leg over your thighs and takes a seat on your lap, brushing his glinting hair out of his dark eyes. he wears eyeliner tonight, sharp as a knife and twice as fatal.

your body stiffens as he brings his lips to your ear, his weight shifting forward.

“listen to yourself,” he murmurs, breath fanning your neck. it makes your skin prickle, cold and uncanny as it is. “oh, you’re just the cutest thing. i haven’t even done anything to you yet.”

the lashing words die in your mouth as he takes your hands and slides them down his body, laying them to rest at his hips. he bites his lip to hide his smile as your heart beats hard beneath the cage of your ribs.

his fingers brush the side of your neck. he wears a silver full-finger ring, ending in a curved claw like a dragon’s. it’s silver in colour, but it doesn’t leave an irritated red mark where it touches his skin – platinum, maybe.

the claw grazes the side of your face beneath your eye. curiously, it follows the thin scar that sweeps over your cheek towards your ear.

clean edges, widest in the top third, tapered ends. something sharp made it as it swung down.

“let’s try something new,” jimin says, excitement glimmering in his eyes. “let me kiss you.”

your head turns sharply towards him. “what for?”

“don’t be so sour. i want this to be fun for both of us, not just me.” he wriggles in place and you suck in a sharp breath. “you’re so still it feels like you’re dead. you’re allowed to touch me, you know?”

you mutter, “have i not already ‘paid’? feel like i’m giving more than i’m receiving.”

jimin laughs, pressing your foreheads together. “i’m sure you’re talking about the fact that you’re all mine. feeding me, protecting me, falling in love with me—”

“i’m not in love with you.”

“not yet. i wonder how you feel,” he says thoughtfully, “falling from grace like this. came to kill, stayed for love.”

you close your eyes. “are you going to drink or not? it’s strange how much time i spend here at night as it is. i don’t even work with you anymore.”

“teasing you makes me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside. besides, no one will think to stop us – i can be very compelling.” he uses the claw on his index finger to tilt your face up, his hungry gaze clashing with yours.

he continues softly, “you do not have to play your games in front of me. i gave you fragments of information and you gave me everything i wanted for them, despite being arrogant, self-fulfilling, and more than capable of extracting what you wanted out of me in more forcible ways. you enjoy my company – that much is obvious.”

jimin’s encountered your type before – men who are detached and stubborn – but all the others sputter and argue with his passive observations. instead, you only sink back into the loveseat, shifting leisurely into a more comfortable position. all the while, your eyes remain trained on his.

“and you could get rid of me with ease now that i no longer have you at knifepoint. you, too, choose to welcome me back each night.”

“human blood so fresh from its source is a delicacy i seldom indulge in.” soft, cold lips press to the corner of your mouth, teeth teasingly catching on your bottom lip. “vampires are opportunistic hunters. when someone with the most addicting blood comes waltzing in and allows me to drink as i please, who am i to say no?”

playing with you is fun, but jimin is hungry. starving, even.

your breath hitches as jimin’s sharp teeth sink into your throat. a soft noise, like the coo of a dove, escapes him as he tilts your head and gulps down mouthful after mouthful.

the piercing phantom feeling of his fangs in your neck stings hotly – near burning. his hand slides down your jaw into the dip beneath the bone, where your pulse thuds heavily, and applies a gentle pressure. his thumb runs over your throat in soothing circles, and despite yourself, you find your muscles relaxing, eyes closing, hands drifting to his thighs…

his pink tongue runs over pillowy lips stained red. he draws away reluctantly and your skin burns ice-cold as the two round wounds begin to seal over, a stopper to the bleeding.

you aren’t entirely sure how it works, nor do you know if it is an ability all vampires have. there are more pressing matters at hand, however – like the fact that the pair of marks are healing slower than usual, and the blood seeps into the white cloth of your shirt, blooming like a flower on the battlefield.

jimin’s eyes glitter in the semi-darkness, half his face bathed in shadow. he smiles, sharp canines and all, and he strokes the blood-soaked collar of your shirt.

“such a waste… and so pretty. the red makes the patterns pop.”

he’s pretty, too. not in the way most vampires you’ve met are, though. glamorous and prideful, yes, but he lacks a certain… cruelty.

jimin tastes like red grapes and copper. they’re soft beyond imagination, partly in thanks to his vigorous moisturising routine. he reacts quickly, tilting his head and snaking his arms tighter around your shoulders, and his mouth curls into a pretty smirk as he returns the heat of the kiss ten-fold.

his lips, pulled back, expose his teeth. you press harder against him. your hands don’t do what you want them to do. you jerk in reflex as his fangs clip your lower lip, and red spills over.

his small, snowy hands cup your cheeks, sighing contentedly as he steals a taste. a breathy gasp escapes him as his back hits the loveseat, gazing up at you with those deceptively innocent eyes.

he giggles, tongue swiping over his lower lip as he plays with your buttons and touches the clawed ring to your skin, under which your traitorous heart hammers.

“i knew it,” he breathes, looking, for once, shy. “it seems you’re in love with me, after all.”

[aberfaeth]

hi everyone idk if im going to write more of this so. sixth house enola holmes au be upon ye

Camilla settles into the side compartment with a low huff, letting the door slide shut behind her. She takes a single moment to rest her head against the soft red cushion of the seatback, and breathe, letting the light from the small windows glance across her face as the train speeds by. Her chest is tight with worry and her neck is sweating something fierce, but for now, she’s free. Adjusting the newsboy cap more firmly over her piled-up hair, she settles into the bench, and prepares for the long ride ahead.

Something shifts.

She stiffens, presses the balls of her too-large shoes against the wooden floor. Looks around. But there’s no one in the cart, and nothing to be moving. It’s just her, the benches, the windows, and one piece of luggage in the overhead compartment, a red and blue and white Persian geometric patterned bag. Camilla waits, and watches, still as a fencepost in the dead of night. And then—

With a muffled rrip, a pocket knife juts through the surface of the Persian bag. It jutters to and fro, until a small tear is created, large enough for a thin brown hand to reach through. Camilla watches in muffled horror as this hand undoes the latch on the bag, and pulls at the zipper, and a boy pokes his head out.

He’s sharp, is the first thing she notices—a mess of angles and bones and incongruously wavy hair, all wrapped in a well-tailored gray suit. Grunting softly, he struggles to further unzip the bag—makes surprised eye-contact with her over thin-rimmed glasses—and promptly tips out of the overhead compartment, crashing to the floor in a cloud of dust and paisley. 

“Please get out of this car,” Camilla says to the lump on the floor, for lack of any better alternative.

The boy blinks up at her, untangling himself from the bag. “I can’t,” he says, simply. “I’m in hiding.” He folds the pocketknife, tucks it in an inner pocket of his suit, and—horribly—goes to sit down opposite her. “Did you happen to spot any—”

“Brown bowler hat, six foot four,” Camilla says. “He’s on this train, searching for you.”

The boy blinks. “Well, fuck,” he says.

“And if he finds you in here, he will find me, and I shall be sent back somewhere I do not want to go,” Camilla continues, barely tamping down on her agitation. “So, again, I ask you to get out of this car.”

“You won’t be sent anywhere,” the boy says, removing his glasses to clean them with the corner of his jacket. “He’ll likely kill you. He was sent to kill me.”

For one long, full moment, Camilla stares flatly at this utter impossibility of a creature, presumably crafted in Hell and dropped from the sky with the sole purpose of ruining her entire day, and possibly her life. “He was sent to kill you,” she repeats.

The boy nods. His eyes, when he meets her gaze, are the clearest gray she has ever seen, a pool of still moonwater. “It’s a long story,” he says.

“Right.”

“I’m Master Warden Palamedes Sextus,” he says, holding a perfunctory hand out for her to shake. “The Marquess of Basilwether.”

She does not take his bird-boned hand. Instead, she leans on her side, peering through glass-paned walls out into the corridor, at the end of which she can see the aforementioned bowler hatted-man. He moves carriage by carriage, approaching swift as death, swinging his cane like a scythe. Sighing, she gathers her coat, folding it over her arms. “I refuse to die on a train,” she says, standing. “So—good day, Warden.”

Master Warden Palamedes Sextus, Marquess of Basilwether gives her a smile that is half resignation and half familiarly-insatiable curiosity. “Do I have the privilege of learning your name in return?”

“If you’re about to be killed,” Camilla says, “you will have no use for it.” And with that, she slides open the carriage door, and steps out into the corridor. 

She makes it about thirty seconds down the hallway before what Kiana calls her overdeveloped sense of justice (and what she privately thinks of as her perfectly normal sense of justice) kicks in, and she spins around, racing back towards the Master Warden Palamedes Sextus’s train carriage. Just in time—when she skids to a halt in the doorway, the man in the brown bowler hat has a fistful of the Warden’s gray lapels, and is holding him rather precariously through the now-opened side door of the train. 

Camilla shoves her way back into the carriage, but the man in the bowler hat doesn’t even spare a look at her. In fact, he looks—different, than when she’d seen him at the station— both the shoulders of his coat and his hat are damp with something wet, and vaguely smoking. He smells like acid and burnt rubber. Master Warden Palamedes Sextus, from his position half-outside of the train and dangling above the fast-moving ground beneath, meets her gaze. He’s not screaming, which surprises her, but his chest is heaving violently, and his arm steadying him against the open door is trembling.

Without sparing a moment, Camilla flips the discarded cane into her hand, and whacks the man in the brown bowler hat across the back of the head. He slumps onto the cushioned bench, knees cracking loudly against the floor.

Removed from his leverage, the Warden swings outwards on his door-perch, finally letting out a yell of alarm. He slams against the outer wall of the train. Camilla hurries over, wraps both hands around his arm, and pulls. She’s going against the wind, and all its drag force—her arms scream—she plants her feet and grits her teeth and yanks, and they both fly back into the relative safety of the carriage. 

“I had that handled,” Master Warden Palamedes Sextus says, pleasantly. He’s got a hand on her shoulder, and she thinks it might be all that’s still holding him up.

“Seemed like it,” Camilla says, eyeing his wind-whipped mess of hair. And then, glancing down at the stirring man on the ground, “we should run.”

“Probably,” the Warden agrees.

They take off down the corridor. It’s hard to move quickly through a thin train hallway, but they manage, Camilla pulling the Warden through throngs of people when his polite request that they move out of the way is taken too slowly. His wrist is thin. She can feel the bones shift under her grip. His pulse is—unsurprisingly, given the murder attempt—rumbling like an engine.

“Where are we going?” he asks, after a minute.

Camilla says nothing, because she really doesn’t know—only that the further they are away from the man with the bowler hat, the less likely they are to be dead. She tugs him all the way to the front of the train, until they open the farthest carriage door and come face to face with the side of a coal car.

Outside, the wind is bitingly vicious, whipping strands of hair from the sides of her face into her eyes. Camilla squints out at the curve of track she can see before them, the rolling green hills of the countryside, and ahead, the bridge that crosses over the ravine, worn like a gash into the ground. An idea begins to form.

She looks back at the Warden, who seems to have come to a similar conclusion—or else that look of grim determination is something he came out of the womb wearing. “Do you trust me?” she asks, healthily sardonic—not expecting anything in the universe of the affirmative, really.

But Master Warden Palamedes Sextus, Marquess of Basilwether looks at her, those opalescent eyes shining bright behind the twisted frames of his glasses, and an odd little smile crosses his thin mouth. “I think so,” he says, and it doesn’t sound grave at all—it sounds like a fact.

Camilla grits her teeth, and grabs his hand. When the man with the brown bowler hat crashes into the carriage—when the coal cart ahead of them just begins to edge onto the bridge over the fathomless ravine—she jumps. And he jumps with her.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

bb / gg, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook is the lead singer in a rock band and failed his Biology class last semester, so he has to take remedial classes over the summer. You're the Biology TA, double major in Psychology and Biology, watching him freak out over his make-up exam because he had overslept. Both of you are surrounded by rumors. Does the title stand for bad boy / good girl or bad bitch / good guy? Who knows.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; not the healthiest dynamic tbh; slight angst due to perceived unrequited love; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics, begging, scratching / marking, choking, handjob (he is still wearing underwear), multiple orgasms, cowgirl, hair pulling, edging / orgasm denial, cock ring usage, m-masturbation, cum-eating); non-idol!BTS – rock singer, sub!Jungkook x studious, dom!reader

yes, it's SOWOOZOO JK, both the first yellow tropical look and the shredded black shirt look; for those who wanted him to be dom!JK, there is a moment when he is but not in the way you think because that's how I operate

--

Jeon Jungkook was a bad boy.

Wore too much black, dyed his hair too much, had tattoos, always had girls hanging around him. Sang in a rock band on the weekends, played electric guitar, played the game of how-many-numbers-can-I-get tonight? Never gave a girl his leather jacket to wear but was happy to buy her a drink and flirt with her until she got hot with arousal.

You were a good girl.

Always wore a blazer. Crisp white dress shirt and pleated skirt underneath, usually in a dark color. Sensible heels, but always heels. Did too many units a semester because you were double majoring in psychology and biology. Always arrived to class early, always turned in your assignments on time, always turned in your tests early and aced that shit. Took physics with calculus even though you didn’t have to because it was the harder one and you wanted a challenge.

-

Against the wall, shoving a fist into the neck, lips to lips, teeth snapping, hand travelling down, whimpering pleas and harsh growls, keep crying, I like it, ecstasy and pain, nails to skin. Tearing clothes off, biting, marking, I own you, and then, yes, you do, mouth and tongue, aching pleasure, cocked eyebrow, mocking the pathetic whines and cries, stopping right before the end, no, please, I’ve been good, and, you take what you get, hand fitting onto the neck, squeezing the sides, eyes rolling back, skin to skin, bruising slaps that would be seen tomorrow in the mirror, traced with shaking fingers and pants of an open mouth, moaning at the memory of sky-high pleasure while lightheaded and thoughtless, desperate to do it again.

-

There was a rumor.

Everyone liked Jeon Jungkook. He had two smiles, an endearing one and a teasing one. Both encapsulated the kind of person he was, honest and playful. He always sang with conviction, he rapped with savagery, and his lyrics were always from the heart. He always hung out with his bandmates after their performances at bars and interacted with those that came up to him. No one ever said Jungkook was mean or rude in any way.

And yet.

There was a rumor.

A rumor that Jeon Jungkook was taken.

He was the kind of guy that always made sure a drunk girl got home safe even though he didn’t know them. Paid for their taxi and everything. He focused a lot on his music and writing lyrics he thought would connect with others while taking into account his band members. He always told the truth if a girl confessed to him, saying he wasn’t looking right now, that he was very sorry if she thought otherwise, that there was someone he was already interested in.

-

“Oi.”

You slammed a hand onto the tabletop and Jeon Jungkook jumped, the shredded black shirt he was wearing falling down his shoulder, revealing his ink black tattoos on his tan skin. He was wearing a black tank top underneath.

“What’s with you? You missed the exam for your remedial class and you’ve spent the past ten minutes spacing out at your make-up exam,” you barked, pointing to his empty exam sheet. “You haven’t even filled out you name.”

Jungkook swallowed hard. “S… Sorry.”

You frowned. Why was he apologizing to you? Honestly, why did you sign up for this summer TA position again? Oh, right, money and credits. Hmph. It was really just an excuse for the professor to slack off while you did the tedious things like grading and watching over idiots that skipped class. Sorry, overslept. Hung over, probably, since this was the Jeon Jungkook. Rockstar, hottie, famous in his own way.

Whatever.

He could be Jesus Christ and you would still be scolding him for missing his remedial Biology exam.

“Fill out your name so at least I can fail you properly.”

Not that it mattered, since you knew who he was. He didn’t know you knew who he was, and you had zero incentive to inform him that you were indeed aware of the existence of black-haired, tattooed, chiseled-jaw, sparkly-eyed Jeon Jungkook, all due to the constant snide remarks that followed you in your wake.

You wouldn’t be such a bitch if a guy like Jeon Jungkook put you in your place.

Who the fuck was Jeon Jungkook?

This guy, this weirdo about to fail his fucking Biology exam in front of your face.

Impatiently, you rolled up the sleeves of your gray blazer and grabbed a chair, dragging it up to the table. You snapped the chair down and sat in it, smoothing your skirt. You liked to be neat. Even though university didn’t have a uniform, you liked to keep some sort of uniform for yourself. There was a sense of security in knowing you didn’t have to select an outfit every morning. Today, white dress shirt, gray blazer, pleated black skirt that hit slightly higher than mid-thigh. Every other outfit was some variation of this and, in the winter, you wore thick stockings.

You clicked your heels together under the table sharply.

He flinched at the sound.

Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. He was mumbling at his paper.

“I… I think I studied the wrong chapters…”

You clicked your tongue. Jeez.

His hand was shaking so bad that his pen was practically vibrating. You leaned over the table, grabbing his fist to still it.

“Stop.”

Your bare knees hit his bare knees, mostly because he was wearing black jeans with giant holes in them. Jungkook froze, head snapping up, silver earrings jangling, black hair flying, undercut visible for a second.

“You want to pass this class or what?”

He nodded quickly in response.

“Good. I want to get out of here. Keep your mouth shut. Answer to the first question is A.”

His eyes widened.

“Are you… helping me cheat?” he whispered, terrified.

You cocked your head, letting go of his hand. “You said you studied the wrong chapters. I’m not spending forty-five minutes of my life to watch you panic and then ten minutes more failing you,” you replied lowly, dangerous edge to your voice.

“I… couldn’t… I mean…”

You shoved his knees open with yours, narrowing your eyes as he yelped, pleading look in those brown doe eyes. You pressed your knees on the inside of his thighs, keeping them open.

“Answer to the second question is C.”

When Jungkook didn’t move, you reached over and cupped his chin. Felt his racing heartbeat pounding through his veins, coursing through your fingertips. Stared deep into those eyes, lowering the octave of your voice, keeping his thighs spread for you under the table.

“Listen to me,” you murmured softly. “Okay, Jungkook?”

“O… Okay…”

And he did.

-

There was a rumor.

Nobody liked you. Maybe it was because of your high scores ruining the class test average. Maybe it was the dismissive way you spoke to people, almost demeaning. Most likely it was a combination of the two. Students talked behind your back all the time, spreading rumors. Friends? What friends? You had an average of twenty class credits a semester. You didn’t have time to make friends. And besides, why try to make friends when clearly nobody wanted to be your friend?

And yet.

There was a rumor.

You ignored such things. You didn’t need such distractions.

-

“It would be too suspicious if you got full marks. This score is high enough.”

“O… Okay…”

“Get on the table.”

Jungkook scrambled on the wooden tabletop as you pushed his exam aside. You were still sitting in your chair. Your head tilted, eyebrow lifting at his speedy response to your rather suspicious request.

“You listened.”

He blinked at you. “Uh… yeah?”

Silence.

“Why?” you finally said.

Jungkook gulped. “Be… because you asked,” he mumbled, knees on the table, hands clutching his knees.

“You can just walk out and report me.”

He shook his head quickly, black hair flying everywhere. “I don’t want to.”

Your other eyebrow raised. He chewed on his lip, a flash of pink tongue in his movement.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll do it.”

Well.

You decided to test his conviction.

“Edge of the table. Spread your legs for me.”

Instantly, obediently, Jeon Jungkook surprised you by doing it, putting each leg on either side of you, chunky black sneakers hanging down. Shredded black shirt open, hands behind his ass, towering over you, and yet his eyes were watching you, waiting for more, begging for instruction.

“Hm.”

You raised your chin, seeing his impressively muscular thighs and body displayed for you to take. He was so close you could smell his clean, dreamy scent, like a meadow in summer dusk, surrounded by peeking stars and blinking fireflies. Interesting.

But you didn’t need the distraction.

“That’s it. You can go now,” you said dismissively, about to push your chair back.

His legs closed in, pressing firmly into your upper arms. Your eyes flickered up to him.

Jungkook shook his head very slowly.

“Do what you want.”

You saw his chest rise and fall, his silvery voice deepening, pupils expanding.

“I know you want to do something to me.”

His erection was bulging against the zipper of his black jeans. Your eyes went back to his face. He shivered at your sharp stare. All of this was happening in an otherwise empty lecture hall, with you and Jungkook at the very bottom.

Just you and him.

You placed your hands on his thighs. He jumped a little, but scooted closer to you. You slid your hands up. You undid the button of his jeans, scrutinizing those brown eyes. He raised his hips to help you as you pulled the zipper down.

“You don’t know me,” you finally said, no inflection in your voice.

He didn’t look away. “I don’t care.”

“Hmm.” You smirked. “Bad boy, aren’t you?”

Jungkook shook his head slightly, but didn’t break eye contact as you pulled his pants to his knees and reached for his black boxer briefs. “No. I’m a good guy. I want to give you what you want.” You hooked your fingers over the waistband and nicked his skin with your nails, making him gasp, the pleasure evident in his tone. He did not try to hide it from you. “I want to be good for you.”

“Why is that?”

He hung his head a little.

“Something about… how you make me feel…” he muttered. His gaze finally faltered. You reached up and righted his chin, forcing him to look at you. Saw that Jungkook had a mole under his mouth, perfectly in the center. He had a nice shape to his pink lips. You tapped his cheek, nudging him to elaborate. “You… You’re so pretty… and smart… Everyone looks up to you because you have such good grades…”

You doubted that.

Jungkook probably had no idea that most of the school hated your guts.

You didn’t have classes with Jungkook, but you were sure he knew your name because your name was posted on the Dean’s List of the highest-ranking students of the university every semester. Also, you weren’t hard to miss. Every student moved out of your way when you walked through the halls, whispering behind their hands.

Jungkook brought you back to the present.

“I feel,” he whispered, voice trembling, gaze locking with yours. “I feel like I want to be on my knees for you.”

His skin was warm under your nails.

“Like this is where I belong, in your hands.”

You stood up.

Jungkook started, turning into a tight squeak as you placed your hand on his chest and pushed him down.

“Lift up your shirt with both hands.”

He did was he was told, revealing his toned abs and the lower half of his pecs, biting his lip, clutching onto his tank top, ears turning red as he craned his head to look down at you. You didn’t give him any satisfying response. His tan skin seemed to glow under the overhead lights. You studied his face.

Reached up and began to rub his erection through his underwear.

“A… ah…”

“Gonna make you cum like this.”

He shook his head quickly. “P… Please, no…”

You felt him swell and twitch under your hand. He was pretty big. Thick. Pretty boy with a pretty dick, probably. You rubbed the head with your palm, feeling his pre-cum leaking through the thin fabric. He wasn’t kidding when he said you made him feel some kind of way.

“Why not? Make you cum in your underwear and then you have to go all the way home covered in it. All dirty, just for me.”

His handsome face twisted with sinful pleasure at your suggestion, whimpers in his throat. His cock jerked with need, wanting it.

“O… Okay. Whatever you want.”

So obedient.

“So obedient, Jungkook,” you purred, rubbing faster.

He nodded. “For you. Only for you. Just for you.”

Was it just saying those things because he thought that was what you wanted to hear? Or was that how he actually felt? Surely not the latter, considering he didn’t really know you. You leaned over him, placing your free elbow on the table to stabilize yourself. You hadn’t even kissed him.

“You’re so hard for me,” your drawled, lowering your head, letting your warm breath float down onto his skin. “You want to cum for me, don’t you?”

“Y… yes, please…”

“You want to be my toy?”

You pressed your lips to his bellybutton, feeling the smoothness of his skin, tasting it. He moaned at your kiss, your swift tongue flickering out to that delicious skin, whining when your teeth nipped at the softness. Fuck, he tasted so good that you wanted to mark him. Looked so fucking good that you wanted to mess him up, mar him with temporary imperfections on the perfection that was Jeon Jungkook.

“Yes…”

With breathless, lustful conviction.

You licked up his abs, increasing the intensity and speed of rubbing the engorged head of his cock, the pre-cum already soaked through and creating a slippery surface, turning Jungkook’s pitched whines to deep moans, a melody that filled up the entire lecture hall until was the only thing you could hear, Jungkook’s moans as you bit his skin, his moans as you sucked on his skin, moans as you kissed the hard muscle, cries for more at you left marks, pleading for you, sweet and beautiful, clutching his shirt so tight that his knuckles were white, the black tattoos of his right hand standing out, his cock throbbing in your hand, his hips rising to hump your palm, your name on his lips, over and over and over.

“Gonna… gonna cum…” he panted, sniffing slightly, cheeks flushing pink. “Gonna cum like how you want me to, all over my underwear…”

Your fingertips touched his side, seeing him stiffen and then shudder at your gentle caress.

“Do it,” you murmured. “Show me how good you are at listening, Jungkook.”

He bit his lower lip, jaw clenching, squeezing his eyes shut, tipping his head back into the tabletop, whining your name in his chest, your palm working him, slick and hot and hard, pulsating under your roughness. With a sharp moan, his lower lip popped out of his teeth, dark red and swollen, small mole quivering.

“F-Fuck…!”

You felt it and heard it, the unmistakable jolt and squelch as his orgasm splattered inside his boxer briefs, drenching the fabric, drenching your hand, his embarrassed whines as he realized what he had done but still humping your hand, forcing out every last twitch of dribbling cum, causing you to smear it everywhere, coating the sensitive head and adding to the pleasure, his cheeks flushed red, eyes squeezed shut to savor the pleasure and avoid looking at you.

“Shh…”

You crawled onto the table, still holding his cock through his soiled underwear, squeezing it, free hand slipping under his head and lifting him, his eyes weakly opening, scared and anxious, but all you did was lean down and kiss him, pressing your lips to that pure softness, exhaling his name into his mouth, his scent staining your hand, his cologne filling your nose, your whisper in his throat.

“Time for you to go home.”

-

Jungkook thought you would tell everyone.

You did no such thing.

Instead, you ignored him.

He would see you three times a week and, three times a week, you arrived with the professor and left with the professor. Jungkook tried much harder to attend classes, but you seemed not to care either way. He would come to the front and collect his assignment and find that you had marked it up exactly like everyone else, red marks all over his incorrect answers. You didn’t even look in his direction.

The next exam was coming up quickly.

Part of him considered skipping exam day to have one-on-one time with you again.

“Jungkook.”

He jumped, jerking his head towards the hall, confused. Somehow, he had heard your voice. Or rather, did he imagine it? His teeth sunk into his lip, placing a hand on his forehead, confused. His head was confused. He couldn’t think straight. Why had he done such an embarrassing thing with you? Even you had told him to leave and report you. But Jungkook just couldn’t. Not then and not now. He had asked for it.

He still wanted it.

Nobody knew. Everybody thought he was a cocky, womanizing playboy. And he was, but not because of the sex. It was only because he was bored and that was all he could get. There was power in being on top.

And there was power in letting go.

You were bad for him.

He was a good guy.

You were a bad bitch.

And nobody knew.

A hand slapped down on his shoulder and yanked him around, the loose short sleeves of his yellow tropical shirt flaring out, making his sunglasses rattle on his face. You narrowed your eyes at him. Instant shivers down his spine at your stern gaze.

“Are you deaf?” you snapped. “I’ve been calling your name for the past minute.”

“I… S-Sor–”

You waved a hand dismissively, grabbing his right hand and slapping down a post-it into it.

“Chapters for the exam, including the date and time. Do not miss it this time. I will not let you make it up and fail you on the spot.”

You turned on your heel, letting go of his hand.

His left one shot out and circled around your arm, his rings pressing into your skin.

“Wait.”

You jerked your head towards him, glaring sharply. “Don’t touch me.”

And you yanked your arm out of his grasp, but his legs made the choice for him, following your swift strides, his backpack hanging off one shoulder, clutching the post-it and his last strands of sanity.

“Please, wait.”

“What?” was your curt response, not looking back at him.

“Please do it again,” he gasped breathlessly, unable to stop himself.

“Do what?”

“Have your way with me.”

You stopped walking.

Jungkook walked straight into your back and banged his nose on your head. He winced, stepping back and rubbing it gingerly. He didn’t register you turning around until it was too late and you were right in his face. You raised your chin and eyebrow simultaneously.

“No.”

He blinked rapidly, his tinted sunglasses halfway down the bridge of his nose.

“W… Why? Did you not like it? Was… was I bad?”

You let out an amused scoff.

The side of your lips curved upwards.

He had made you smile, even if only a little bit. Just that small thing was enough to feed his courage.

“I…” Jungkook coughed, clearing his throat before he spoke again, voice still a soft whisper in his embarrassment even though no one was around to eavesdrop. “I can be better. I can do better.”

Silence.

He thought you were going to walk away again.

You reached up and plucked his glasses off his nose. Folded them neatly and tucked them in his tropical shirt pocket. Then your eyes found his again and he knew something was different. He could see you clearly now, his vision no longer clouded by sienna.

Now, Jungkook could no longer stop it.

He could feel it all over him, coursing through his veins, arousal like fire. Something about you and something about him. Jungkook could sense the danger, but he didn’t want to run even though he knew he should. He had heard the rumors surrounding you. They could be true.

And yet.

“I want it,” Jungkook breathed, inviting himself into the danger. “I want you. I want to be your toy.”

Your discerning expression didn’t change.

You reached up and gripped his chin, digging your nails into his soft skin.

He whimpered in his chest, moving closer to you.

“What’s my name?”

His brows furrowed, saying your name hesitantly.

You pulled his chin down so he was eye-level.

“Next time you say my name, I will be choking it out of you.”

-

Everyone thought Jeon Jungkook was the kind of guy to grip your wrist with his left hand and your throat in his right, his lips against your ear and his sweaty chest against your back as you slapped your ass into his crotch and fucked yourself with his rock-hard cock, his smirk in your ear as he provided you with a certain type of encouragement.

“That’s right, you want this dick, don’t you? Show me. Prove to me you want it.”

His fingertips tightening against the sides of your neck, listening to your pathetic cries and moans as you tried to squirm against him, brain running out of oxygen due to lack of blood, running out of thoughts, running out of pleas as Jungkook gripped your wrist, deep snarl against your hair as he roughly finished himself off using your body because that’s all you were, someone to be used by him and nothing more, neck suddenly released with a breathless gasp and shoved face first into the sheets with his right hand splayed on your back, his tattoos and your orgasm crashing down on you, his growls staining the air and a fierce jerk of his hips to spill into your tight hole and leave you moments after, nothing but a discarded toy in his eyes.

You thought.

That was what everyone thought when Jeon Jungkook stood on stage, flipping his dark violet microphone between verses and smirking like a devil, truly in command of every thought and every pair of eyes on him, surrounded by a heavy bass line and deafening drums, guitar solo tearing through the moment to emphasize the next of his lips nearing the mic again, entrancing the crowd with his beautiful lips and talented tongue.

No one knew.

-

You were riding him hard and fast, torn condom wrappers and used condoms littering his bed, back-to-back orgasms, his head pressed into his pillows, your hand around his neck, the other leaving long lines down his chest, scratching him so hard that it dotted red, blooming lines of pain.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, f-fuck…”

Jungkook was hoarsely whispering, clutching his sheets, black hair soaked with sweat, raising his chest to your nails, whimpering, punish me, punish me, punish me, and you muttered plainly with a sharp edge, you talk too much, your grip tightening again, pressing onto the sides of his neck, cutting off the blood flow, and Jungkook moaned gratefully, eyelids fluttering, the slap of your hips to his louder and louder, filling up his whole bedroom, rattling his bedframe, fucking him so hard he was slowly sliding up to his headboard.

Your name fell from his lips in pure ecstasy, back arching to shove his whole length fully into you, thick and hard and twitching with need, your slick walls clamping down on him, fitting to him with a hiss. He began to match you, breathless, lightheaded, world hazy, moaning from deep in his chest, I love you, and your reply was only tightening your grip, your hand and your pussy, harder, harder, harder.

“Aren’t you such a good guy?” you scoffed sarcastically, letting up for only a second to let him reply, blood rocketing back into his brain, flooding him with oxygen, and Jungkook sucked in a lungful of air, reeling.

“N-No…” he panted. “You’re the good girl… you’re always s-so… so good to me…”

His eyes locked with yours hazy with lust and love. You almost looked away out of instinct.

“You a-always remember… what I like…” he managed to choke out.

-

You left him when you were done using him.

You pretended he didn’t say those words to you. There was no point in acknowledging the nonsense that he said in the middle of being choked and barely functioning. You tapped your pencil against your textbook.

You caught yourself thinking about him.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your eyes flickered to the clock. Late at night on a Friday. He was probably at a bar. You watched the second hand of your plain silver clock tick, tick away. You never asked to watch him and his band perform even though Jungkook always made it a point to text you the address and the time.

It was obvious Jungkook didn’t want you to be his secret.

He wasn’t really your secret either. You just saw no benefit to letting anyone know there was a connection between you and Jeon Jungkook. After all, you were just using him.

You stopped tapping your pencil.

Stared at the second hand.

Tick.

Heard the voices of the rumors poisoning you, saying the things they said.

She thinks she’s so much better than everyone else because she’s a nerd.

The only reason she has good grades is because she fucked that one professor.

I heard she dated him.

I mean, there’s a reason he left in the middle of the semester, right?

He had a wife!

Snap.

Your eyes flickered down.

The tip of your pencil lead rolled across the page, leaving tiny pinpricks of granite.

There was never any evidence because nothing happened. Nothing happened between you and said psychology professor. He left in the middle of the semester because his wife had a miscarriage and he wanted to be with her. It had nothing to do with you. You had long discussions with him about life and existentialism, hanging out during his office hours.

Sometimes, you felt bad.

Had you kept him from his wife? Would it have not happened if he just skipped his office hours and didn’t spend them talking to you? These were irrational, foolish thoughts. They made you guilty even when there was nothing to be guilty about.

He was a nice guy, mid-thirties. Everyone liked this professor.

They blamed you because they didn’t know.

Only you knew, because he told you with tears in his eyes and thanked you for being his student.

You didn’t tell anyone, because he did not owe you an explanation and you were not going to divulge someone’s personal business that they had shared with you in confidence. You watched your reputation crumble and fall apart, watched friends ostracize you, because you didn’t tell them anything and they didn’t believe you. You watched yourself turn bitter and hateful.

Just tell the truth.

There was no truth to be told.

You put your pencil down.

Closed your eyes.

Remembered Jungkook’s face.

-

Your hands were in his hair, pulling hard. His hot breath was in your face, arms shaking as he held himself up, fucking you into his mattress with whines in his chest, begging you, begging you, begging you.

“P-Please… let me cum, please…”

You liked to watch the sweat clinging to his high cheekbones and neck, jaw glistening with tension, feeling his strong body between your legs, his twitching hardness sliding into you repeatedly in rough, hard smacks, squeezing him every time he was fully sheathed inside you, vibrations coursing through you every time he came down.

“Not until I’m done,” you growled and he whimpered, pleading look in those brown doe eyes, black pupils expanded, unable to cum because a vibrating cock ring was restricting his orgasm, keeping him hard but unable to climax, sending thundering pleasure through him and into you. He watched helplessly as you gripped his hair, hissing sharply as another wave of pleasure overtook you, closing your eyes to savor it, savor his swollen cock twitching inside you as he felt the intense massage of your pussy walls closing around him, throbbing around the head and driving him insane, moaning pathetically because he couldn’t follow suit no matter how desperate he was.

Jungkook didn’t ask if you were done.

He just kept going because you told him he couldn’t cum until you were done.

And you didn’t say you were done.

You stared into those brown orbs, hazy with lust and full of conviction to be good for you.

Desperate to be the best and the only one, not knowing there was no one else because no one else wanted you like the way Jeon Jungkook wanted you.

“Pull out.”

“B-But…”

“You heard me,” you exhaled, throbs of pleasure still trembling through you. Your hands slid down, cupping his chin, nails digging into his sweaty cheeks. “Obey.”

With a pained whine, Jungkook obeyed, pulling out of you, his cock covered in your juices, wearing a condom and the black cock ring. You reached over with one hand to press the button on the remote to turn in off.

“Take it all off. Let me see your cock.”

He reached down and slowly pulled the cock ring off, taking the condom with it, whimpering at the sensitivity, his tone hitting a lovely pitched groan as the silicone squeezed the base of the head. His whole body was shaking as it fell from his hands, the veins on his length standing out, head purple-red and angry, white pre-cum slowly beading at the tip, and his face, looking down at you, waiting for your next move.

Cock waiting to be used.

You tapped your chest.

“Cum on my tits.”

“B-But–”

You cut him off.

“You’re going to cum on my tits and then you’re going to lick it off while I watch.”

-

He listened.

Jungkook straddled your waist with his thighs, muscular and defined, right hand wrapping around his cock, sweat making the tattoos on his forearm and shoulder glow in the low light, smelling like sex and musk, his core tightening as he touched his overstimulated length, using the lube of the condom and his own pre-cum to add to the pleasure as he began to stroke himself, moaning as you lifted your hands and cupped your breasts, pushing them together, his eyes on the curve of your cleavage and points of your hard nipples sticking out, and then your face, an indifferent look with a cocked eyebrow, taunting him, unimpressed by his timid grip on his cock, so he squeezed harder, tighter, embarrassing cries falling from his mouth, living for the smirk that slowly began to form on your lips.

It empowered him somehow, that smirk, the little inkling of satisfaction that Jungkook wanted, needed, craved, knowing he was doing well, being good, furiously pumping his aching cock over your pressed-together tits and he couldn’t last, couldn’t help it, too overstimulated and too turned on, too in love with this to prevent himself from tipping over with a hot gasp, spilling streams of sticky white lines over your breasts, spreading them everywhere, making a huge mess because he wanted a huge mess to clean up, shoving the head into your cleavage and shuddering at the sensation of warmth to his scorching heat, able to feel the pulse of the engorged tip dripping out what was left, shivers up and down his spine, the words falling from his mouth that he never stopped saying even though you never acknowledged them.

“I... l-love you…”

He stayed like that for nearly a full minute, but you didn’t tell him to get off.

His eyes were closed, savoring the feeling.

Slowly, Jungkook gingerly removed himself, lowering his body over yours, tongue sliding out, touching your skin covered in his cum, his taste, mine, no one else’s, him on you, lapping it up, salty and bitter and yet he loved it, loved that you told him to do it, loved that you let him paint your skin with his orgasm and now his saliva. He didn’t care that you never said anything to his I love you, didn’t care that you seemed to pretend he never said it, because he would continue saying it when he was with you, hopeless as it was.

It was the small things that kept him going, sucking his own cum off your nipple and wrapping his lips around it, hearing your soft sigh of pleasure, feeling the tap on his thigh that instructed him to scoot up, the small thing of your hand closing in on his spent cock, sending sparks of pain but also pleasure, moaning into your skin as you massaged his balls with your fingers, knowing that he could take more pressure and roughness because he had just came, the small thing of your thumb rubbing the sensitive slit, his face pressing into your breasts, smearing his cheek with his cum and saliva, sliding across your slick skin because of the intensity of the high it gave him, the pleasure and the pain, his right arm coming up to wrap around you, tattoos cradling your torso.

“I love you…” he whispered to your racing heart under his ear, lost in the rhythm of your heartbeat and the firmness of your touch. Jungkook did not care if you hated him saying it.

He would continue saying it as long as he was with you.

-

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing…?”

“Hmm.”

He placed his hand over the bottom of his phone and smiled at the cute girl that was talking to him at the bar.

“Sorry. I have to take this call. It’s important to me.”

He didn’t hear her response, because he backed away, bowing lightly, pressing his phone back to his ear.

“Ah, never mind, Jungkook.”

“No, no. What is it? Tell me.”

“You’re at a noisy place. It’s Saturday night.”

Jungkook pushed through the people, mumbling his apologies and straining to hear your voice over the thundering bass. “I finished. Well, we finished. We’re only drinking. I can leave at any time. I’ll just text the guys to bring my equipment back for me. Where are you?”

“Forget it.”

He opened the door of the club as the dial tone rang in his ear.

Looked up.

Your hand dropped to your side. You were still in your white dress shirt and navy skirt, dressed exactly like you were when at school minus the blazer. Jungkook’s eyes widened. He was in a torn-up long-sleeve shirt with the right sleeve removed, showing off his tattoos. His black hair was wild and half-wet, and he was wearing tight leather pants.

You clicked your tongue.

“I said forget it,” you repeated hollowly.

You sighed and turned around, skirt swishing in your wake.

“Wait, I’ll come with you–”

“Go back to where you belong, Jungkook.”

His hand closed around your forearm, holding tight.

“I belong with you.”

You stopped walking, silent.

“What is it? Tell me.”

You scowled. “It’s dumb.”

“So am I, remember?” he chuckled, his hand slipping down, squeezing yours. “I’m not very good at school.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment. Cars and people brushed past, but Jungkook was focused onto on your stillness, watching your eyes seemed to be thinking about many things. You hadn’t pulled your hand out of his yet. By now, Jungkook knew that if you didn’t want something, you wouldn’t be shy about telling him right away.

You started walking again. Jungkook was still holding your hand.

“It was just a moment of weakness,” you mumbled under your breath.

“A guy…?”

You didn’t answer.

Jungkook squeezed your hand. “It’s okay,” he murmured tightly. “I understand.”

He did not. He wanted to cry.

Your eyes shot to him, pinning him in place. “You don’t understand, Jeon Jungkook. You understand nothing.” You pulled your hand out of his and Jungkook let go, trying to hold his pain, trying not to breathe because he was preparing himself for the inevitable, the moment you were going to break his heart and, if it was right here and right now, then so be it, because he had said how he felt repeatedly and there was nothing more he could do than that.

He loved you so, so bad.

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t, that it was madness, but he did anyway.

But you surprised him.

Your sharp gaze softened.

“You know what they say about me. You have to know,” you exhaled, shaking your head. “You must know the rumors.”

Good girl gone bad.

Jungkook frowned. “About you and the professor?”

He watched your jaw clench.

“Does it matter?” he asked.

Your eyes shifted, not quite looking at him.

“Whether something did or didn’t happen, what does that have to do with me?”

And now you looked at him, guarded, not letting him know your thoughts.

“You…” He swallowed, trying to press the lump down in his throat. “You’re just using me, right? It doesn’t… doesn’t really matter, because in the end I don’t matter to you anyway… right?”

He did not want to cry and yet he did, because he knew he loved you. It was the small things, the way you never let up on him even in class, the way you picked days that were never the weekend and never before exams, the way you would brush your fingertips on his knuckles before leaving when you thought he was asleep, the way on the last time, the last time you were together, that you pressed your lips to his forehead when you thought he was asleep, running your fingers through his hair.

Jungkook was standing outside this bar and there were people he knew walking past, seeing you and him, but he kept his eyes on you, because the only one that mattered was you.

The one he belonged to was you.

He had decided that when he climbed onto the table that day.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and let out a heavy breath. “If people say things about you, then they say things about you. Whether it’s the truth or not doesn’t change the fact I love you. It doesn’t make me love you less,” Jungkook said, speaking at his usual volume, because there was no reason to whisper the truth. “Even if it’s pointless and crazy, I want to be with you until the day you don’t want to be with me.”

His smiled and blinked back tears.

“Even if that day is today, I will never regret it.”

In this cruel summer, you could have ruined his reputation. You could have told everyone the kind of person he really was and you didn’t. You could have spread embarrassing stories of the things you made him do and you didn’t.

Even if he didn’t matter to you, Jungkook was confident that you weren’t a malicious person.

You rubbed your forehead. “The rumors will come to you.”

Jungkook laughed. “So what? I heard a rumor that I removed two ribs so I could suck my own dick. I admit, I considered doing it after hearing that.”

You scowled, but Jungkook only smiled in return. He could see the tension falling from your face with his comment. You clicked your tongue and tilted your head, as if to say, can’t be helped.

“There’s no other guy,” you muttered. “There’s just you and you’re dumb.”

Jungkook blinked rapidly, confused.

“You say it over and over and make me think about it all the time.” You sighed heavily, running a hand through your hair. “I’m not a good girl. People pushed me away and I stayed there instead of trying to repair the burned bridges. I don’t even think I want to repair them. Who knows what will happen next? I don’t think it would be a good idea to put you through that shit.”

You sucked on the inside of your cheek, looking at him apologetically.

“You’re not the bad boy everyone says you are. You’re a good guy. You should find a good girl.”

Is that what you think? Jungkook chuckled, taking out his hand and rubbing his nose thoughtfully.

“I don’t want a good girl.”

He stepped toward you, lowering his hand and his head so that he was eye level with you.

“I love a bad bitch who can push me around and makes me their toy.”

He tilted his head, small curve on those beautiful lips, tiny mole underneath appearing with every smile.

“Which can only be you, you know.”

Jungkook didn’t try to kiss you. He only wanted to look into your eyes so you knew his conviction.

“I love you.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I’ve heard you say it.”

He nodded. “And I’m going to keep saying it until the day you leave me.”

Silence.

Ah.

Your eyebrow lowered and you gave him an indifferent look.

“Hm. I wonder when that will be, Jungkook.”

You leaned in, but before you kissed him, he heard the whisper against his lips, felt the shape of yours as they brushed against his, words he prepared himself to never hear from you, words that he thought you would never say, and that was fine with him, because you showed it, and that was enough.

He thought.

“I love you.”

And then your lips on his and his tears fell onto your cheeks because Jungkook wanted to cry all this time and he could not stop now, knowing that he was so, so in love with you and you finally, finally said it back to him.

--

masterpost

[sohin-ace]

Bucciarati - My little Seastar

Sister reader. Enjoy~

"Hey, Bucciarati! Can you help me for a sec?"

You turned towards the direction of the voice calling you and stopped in your tracks on the wooden docks.

"What do you want, Valentino?" You spat, a bit more harshly than intended.

The smug boy who was crouched on his zodiac chuckled at you. "Aw, come on, Bucciarati! Don't be like that. I just need some help to tie the rope. Your dad is a fisherman, right? You should know knots like no one else!"

Even though he had said this as a way to woo you and flatter you somehow, you couldn't help but hear it as a condescending remark. You crossed your arms over your chest and he pouted at the glare you sent him.

"Pretty please~? No funny business, I swear! Look, the guys aren't even here, I'm all alone. You can trust me!"

That's right. Valentino and his little gang took great pleasure in teasing you and bothering you at every corner and it pissed you off. No matter how much you insulted them, ignored them or avoided them, they never seemed to stop their stupid and useless bullying.

But sadly, oh so sadly, the Bucciarati that you were was kind. Too kind. You despised that you were so gentle-hearted, but in the end, this is how your father and brother had raised you.

You huffed and slumped your arms loose along your body, defeated. "Fine!" You dragged your sandals over the dock and approached him. "It better be quick."

The boy beamed as you embarked on the zodiac next to him, "Sure thing! Thanks a lot, girl. I'll make it up to you!"

He gave you the ropes as you crouched down at his place and got to work. But without you noticing, the boy had swiftly slid his leg over the vehicle and easily jumped back into the dock, leaving you behind.

Before you could even turn around and ask where he was going, the brat, now accompanied by all three of his little buddies that appeared out of their hiding spot, all kicked the zodiac off of the dock before you could even tie it.

"Waah-!"

You lost balance at the violent jerk of the boat and yelped, letting go of the ropes that could have saved you from your demise.

You couldn't even get back to your knees and try desperately to grab onto the dock's wooden planks. You heard the boys snickering and laughing at you as you drifted farther and farther away from the land into the water.

"I fucking knew it you disgusting piece of TRASH!" You yelled at them, angry with them obviously, but also angry with yourself for granting that bastard the benefit of the doubt. "You know damn well I can't swim!"

They all seemed to laugh even louder, obnoxiously. "Too bad for you Bucciarati! Maybe you shouldn't be so stupid next time! BWAHAHAHA!"

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE VALENTINO! SCREW YOU!"

Your curses and wails seem to fall into deaf ears as you drifted even farther away from the coast, with no way of even paddling back.

Looking around towards the much bigger boats parked along the docks, you could only hope 'he' would hear you.

"PAPA!! PAPAAA!!!" You called desperately. Surely he would hear you, he wasn't far after all, you did come all the way here to bring him his lunch. He must still be somewhere around the fishing boats.

After a few more vain attempts to call for your father, you settled to accept that he wouldn't hear you, nor would the other fishermen that were already far gone from their boats to bring their catches to land.

You sat on the damp zodiac and brought your knees to your chest, not even caring if your sundress slid down your thighs indecently and got stained by the salty water. Stupid Valentino couldn't even keep his tiny boat clean.

"Stupid, stupid..." Your voice cracked, threatening to break into a sob. "If he was a sailor he'd be dead before even sailing. That's how stupid this stupid boy is. Stupid."

With only your expletives to reassure you in your demise, you buried half of your face in your arms now craddling your cold knees.

Everything was so silent, the sea did a great job at muting every sound around the coast and you felt the loneliest and most scared you had ever been since you were a child.

You thought nobody would find you, and you'd be dead drowning because you could never learn to swim and since nobody even noticed your absence in minutes that felt like hours, nobody would cry for you if you died here either.

And so the stinging tears prickled at your eyes.

"Y/N?" You heard a familiar voice calling your name, but brushed it off as the wind. "Y/N is that you?"

You looked up towards the insistant voice in a sliver of hope and, like an angel fallen from heaven, you were met with the caring blue gaze of your big brother from the railings of one of the high boats right next to where you had drifted to.

"Bruno!" You gasped and got up immediately, almost falling over from the sudden sway of the boat under your weight. "A-ah! Bruno help me, I'm stuck!"

"Hold on!" The worried face of the male hesitated to leave you for even a split second. "I'm coming down. Don't move."

You nodded at his strict tone and waited for him as he disapeared. Your breath caught in your throat with stress, even though you were reassured to finally have a savior. And what a savior it was, your one and only big brother.

Barely a minute passed before you saw him come back and unravel an emergency ladder down to you. He made sure the ladder was all tight and secure and almost immediately after, Bruno jumped over the railing, to your grand fright, and started climbing down, your heart pounding with worry for him.

He finally arrived down and stepped into the zodiac, joining you, like a glorious hero, saving the day. You barely let him any time to react as you threw yourself into his chest and gripped viciously at the back of his shirt, scrunching it without care, scared to be alone at sea again.

Bruno wanted to scold you and yell at you for recklessly playing around all alone in the docks and ending yourself in such a dire situation. But when he felt you trembling and squeezing him like your life depended on it, which ironically it did, the elder couldn't help but sigh and wrap his long arms around your shoulders, a gesture of comfort.

"... What happened to you?"

"It's-" You choked a sob and Bruno tutted and shushed you softly, patting your head to calm you down, just like your mother used to do when you were a child.

"Shhh, it's okay bambina, I'm here now."

He felt you relax and you sniffled a few times before mumbling into his shirt. "It's Valentino! He tricked me! I hate him! He's such a coglione!"

"Hey! Language." He scolded and pinched your arm, earning a little 'ow' from you, "What would dad think if he heard you say such words? Bite your tongue, young lady."

"S-sorry..." You croaked a little ashamed of your outburst and lifted your head up at your brother. "They always do this to me... Valentino and the others... Why...? They know I can't swim and they throw me into the water all the time..."

Bruno let go of you to cup your face and wipe your tears off. He did not let it show to you but he was infuriated. There was only so much patience an Italian man could have when his family was being targeted. Especially his little sister and the only lasting woman of his life.

"Shh, stop crying now, mia stellina marina. I'll deal with them later, okay? Let's get you home for now."

"They'll see." You sniffled as your breath steadied, calmed by Bruno's soft tone, "When I'll marry a big, tall, goth policeman, he'll beat them up for me and then, they won't act so cocky anymore."

He huffed with amusement at your words before he let you go and laid a gentle hand on your back to usher you towards the ladder.  Bruno, still with a bit of confusion, mumbled to himself without you hearing it.

"... Why goth, though?"

Only now had you noticed the zodiac had stopped drifting since Bruno found you, held onto the much bigger boat by a phantom blue and white arm and a golden zipper that you'd recognize from a mile away.

"Can we... Can we let the zodiac in here?" You asked hesitantly towards your brother who paid no mind to it.

"Who cares? It's not ours."

With thoughts of Valentino's expensive motorboat getting lost in the sea, you slowly took ahold of the ladder's ropes and started climbing, Bruno keeping it steady for you until he was sure you embarked in safely.

He then joined you up and lent you a spare jacket that he thankfully thought of taking with him in the morning, covering you from the cold of your drenched dress against the littoral wind.

"Thank you Bruno..." You softly uttered and hugged his warm jacket closer around you, "I always cause you trouble..."

"Nonsense, piccolina. I could never live knowing my sister is crying, cold and afraid somewhere." He squeezed your shoulder against him as you approached the stall your father and his colleagues were filling with freshly caught fishes. "I'll make sure you're the one that never gets troubled again..."

Fortunately for you, the day ended much more peacefully than it had started and your father was happy and relieved to find you safe and uninjured. He had specifically instructed Bruno to not get involved or make a scene, but of course, his son was a stubborn mediterranean who could not let anything just slide.

It was not the first, not the second, nor even the third time this boy, 'Valentino' and his friends, had taken offense towards you.

So, Bruno would make sure the zodiac Valentino had worked oh-so-hard to afford, part-timing as a waiter, cleaning after people's messes, scrubing disgusting shit-stained lavatories and cutting his hands off of plastic and metal scraps scattered along the beaches for a few cents per day, got thoroughly anihilated to pieces.

"NOOOO!!!! MY ZODIAC !!!! MY 50 000€ BAAABYYYYYY!!! WHYYYYY???!!"

The very next day, as you walked along the docks to bring some fishing materials to your brother, you heard the painful wails of a very familiar boy kneeling down and crying on the woodplanks, his screams echoing against the shore.

"SHUT UP BRAT! You'll think about your money after you pay for the fines I'm about to give you. You think you can get away with polluting the water with your gross ass wreckage?" A tall and burly policeman wearing purple lipstick growled at the kneeling boy, no signs of mercy in his baritone voice. "You'll have a reason to cry when you pay for the oil you spilled in here. You're lucky I'm not throwing your ass in jail right now."

"Officer please-" Valentino pleaded miserably, but the policeman did not hold back on pushing all fives of the different citations he had owned by having pieces of his zodiac scattered all around the precious ressourceful ocean.

"You have two weeks to pay up and clean all that shit." The officer fixed his shades over his nose before turning around to leave. "And expect to receive a salty lawsuit soon. Fucking whiny bitchbaby..."

The policeman left with a determined and impatient step as you witnessed the entire scene with wide eyes, not noticing your brother approaching.

"Oh no... That's horrible..." You gasped with sympathy and worry, "I hope the fishes and corals won't get impacted by the oil spill..."

"Oh don't worry," Bruno chuckled, taking the heavy loads off your hands, "I made sure to zip that out of the water."

You blinked, confused.

"...What?"

"What...?"

That fic was inspired by the very first scene of H2O, I love that show so much, and I can't wait to post my mermaid fics in store!