#wow look at me coining new terms.. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ezra-writes · 2 years ago

Text

The First Meeting

Rory O'Shea begins his first day at Edenbrook Hospital and learns that whoever coined the term 'never meet your heroes' was absolutely right. Ethan Ramsey goes head-to-head with the new intern as Edenbrook becomes a battleground between the two headstrong doctors.

I hate him. What a smug, condescending, arrogant, handsome… ugh! How is someone with a personality that repulsive so attractive? He’s definitive proof that God really does have favorites -

“What are we staring at?” someone whispers in my ear, their warm breath tickling the side of my neck.

I let out a startled yelp and drop my charts, drawing the attention of the object of my ire. Bryce chuckles and bends down to retrieve them while Jackie tries to hide her smile behind her own charts. Dr. Ramsey glances over at us impassively, meeting my eyes for the briefest moment before turning away. I continue glaring at him even as I swipe my charts out of Bryce’s hand, trying to telepathically implode his brain with my eyeballs.

“Why are we staring at Dr. Ramsey?” Bryce stage whispers again.

“We are not staring at him. I am trying to explode his big, stupid head with the power of my mind,” I mutter.

“Wow… he really got to you, didn’t he?” Jackie snickers.

I bristle, remembering the emergency thoracotomy in the waiting room earlier that morning and Dr. Ramsey’s subsequent condemnation. “He did not get to me! He’s a pompous asshole and I hate him. I despise him. I loathe him and his perfect jawline with every molecule of every fiber of my being.”

Jackie arches one eyebrow and smirks, clearly unconvinced. “You sound like a supervillain right now, Rory.”

Bryce’s eyes light up. “Dr. Ramsey could be your very first nemesis!”

“And Aurora my second,” I grumble, mentioning the prickly intern I’m partnered with.

They both make a face.

“How’s that going?” Bryce asks.

I shrug half-heartedly. “She went to her aunt’s office right after the initial consult with our patient and I haven’t seen her since.”

“Nice to know Princess Nepotism is already living up to her name,” Jackie says snidely, looking down as her pager beeps. “My test results are in. See you guys later.”

“So how long are we going to stand here and stare at Ramsey?”

I snort and fight back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous, Bryce.”

“I’m not the one trying to set my boss on fire with my brain.” The surgeon smirks at me, brown eyes glittering with laughter.

“Explode, Lahela. I’m trying to explode him.”

We start at each other silently for a few beats before we break into a fit of the giggles.

*****************************************************************************

Ethan stands at the nurses' station, pretending to look over his charts as he covertly watches the young man who is staring daggers at him from a little further down the hall. Ever since their encounter that morning as they’d worked together to save the patient who collapsed in the waiting room, Dr. Rory O’Shea had been a distraction. An insidious little wisp of smoke that continues to invade Ethan’s thoughts in his downtime.

O’Shea is one of those people who’s cursed with a face that perfectly expresses whatever they’re feeling, and right now he’s looking at Ethan like he wishes the older doctor would be hit by a bus. Ethan remembers how the intern had look after saving that woman, his cheeks flushed and eyes bright with excitement, and how his expression had fallen after Ethan’s harsh criticism. Hurt, then disappointment, and finally anger flickered over the young man’s face, before he was able to get control over his emotions.

“Maybe you can give me private lessons…”

Ethan’s lips twitch up as he fights to repress a smile at the memory of O’Shea’s words. He had flipped a switch from angry to flirty so quickly he’d nearly given Ethan whiplash, and the sultry look in his eyes that was clearly meant to catch Ethan off-balance had nearly drawn him in instead.

Such unusual eyes.

They stand out from behind the round wire-rimmed glasses O’Shea wears, those large, pale green eyes, the same color as the sea glass a younger Ethan used to collect with his father when they would go to the beach.

A crashing sound draws Ethan’s attention, and he turns his head slightly to watch as one of the surgical interns bends down on one knee and hands O’Shea a pile of charts with a charming smile. An uncomfortable feeling begins to form low in Ethan’s stomach, but he quickly writes it off as hunger and hurries back to his office for a quick lunch before continuing his rounds.

**************************************************************************

“Argh! Stupid, stupid, stupid!” I aim a kick at a low shelf in the supply closest, nearly breaking a toe when it connects. “Gah! Motherfucker!” I swipe angry tears away from my face, mentally berating myself as I remember Ramsey’s words.

You need to have a long, hard think about whether or not your ready to be here… Whether this girl lives or dies is on you… Nearly killed her…

A sudden wash of fluorescent light interrupts my brooding.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something,” Bryce says, looking at me with curiosity and concern.

“In or out, Lahela! I’m trying to have an existential crisis in peace and you’re distracting me,” I snap.

He steps into the supply closest and pulls the door shut behind him. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s going on?”

I tip my head back and try to stem the flow of tears, internally cursing myself for being an angry crier. And a stress crier. And a sad crier.

Not the time for this.

“Nothing. I just got reamed out by the man who used to be my medical hero and inspiration for the second time today and I almost killed my first patient.” The words come out in a rush. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m not cut out for this. Maybe everything that I’ve been working for since I was twelve was all for nothing and I’m going to be the biggest failure Edenbrook has ever seen.”

Bryce blinks. “Wow. You managed four years of med school, but four hours here and you’re surrendering? Didn’t take you for a quitter.”

“You just met me.”

“True. But if every hospital employee who ever hid in a supply closet quit, there’d be nobody here but the patients.”

I narrow my eyes. “No offense, but what do you know about it?”

“Let’s just say this isn’t the first supply closet I’ve found a stressed out doctor in today.”

“Alright then, scalpel jockey. What am I supposed to do?”

Bryce grins. “You’ve got two options. One, breeze through life with an unshakeable self-assurance like me.”

“I don’t think this hospital would survive two Bryce Lahelas. What’s option two?” I dryly reply.

“Ride it out,” he says, shrugging.

I stare at him blankly. “That’s not quite the pearl of wisdom you think it is.”

Bryce places his hands on my shoulders and shakes me a bit. “Of course you’re overwhelmed. You’re a doctor. It’s one of the toughest jobs there is, and you’re on your first day. If you don’t give yourself a chance to make mistakes, to get better… nobody else will.”

I let out an enormous sigh and use the hem of my scrubs to dry my cheeks. “Fine. I’ll try.”

“Good. Because I’d hate to lose you so quick. Is there anything I can get you?”

“A hug?” I venture.

“Alright, get over here.” Bryce smirks and holds out his arms. His has to stoop a little bit to match my much shorter height, but I manage to lace my arms around his neck and squeeze him gently, resting my head against his chest. He wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tightly, the slow thumping of his heartbeat and the warm, comforting scent of his amber and sandalwood cologne soothing my frazzled nerves.

“This is nice,” I murmur. “You’re a pretty good hugger.”

“One of my many talents.” Even though I can’t see his face I can tell he’s smiling. “Hey, wait a second. Was this just a ploy of yours to get me in here alone?”

I tip my head back to look at him, taking in the cocky smirk on his face and the genuine kindness radiating from his warm, brown eyes. Before I can second guess myself, I pop up on my toes and quickly press my lips to his. His eyes momentarily widen in surprise, but then he’s kissing me back hard, his hands gripping my hips as he pushes me against the shelves, knocking a few boxes to the ground.

“God you’re incredible,” he whispers against my mouth. Suddenly he lifts me up, urging me to wrap my legs around his waist as he uses his body to pin me to the shelves. I nip lightly at his lower lip and grind against him, earning a low groan. Bryce’s hands cup my ass, pulling me tight to him as we writhe together, our erections rubbing against each other through the thin fabric of our scrubs. His tongue slides against mine and one of his hands creeps under my scrub top, warm against the skin of my stomach.

The door suddenly swings open, light from the hallway spilling into the closet.

“Could we get some privacy, man?” Bryce snaps, turning his body to keep me shielded from whoever has interrupted us.

“Oh, by all means. I’m so sorry to intrude. I’ll just wait out here ‘til you’re done,” an equally irritated male voice retorts. “Or, if I may be so bold… might you hand me a suture kit?”

Still holding me up with one hand, Bryce reaches out and snags a kit from the shelf and tosses it over his shoulder to the other man.

“Much obliged.” The door slams and we’re alone once again.

Bryce slowly slides me down his body until my feet are back on the floor.

“Maybe we should get back to work,” I say, nervously adjusting my glasses.

“That guy did kinda kill the mood, huh?”

Feeling awkward, I repeatedly tug on a piece of hair at the back of my head as Bryce straightens his scrubs and runs a hand through his hair.

“Hope I cheered you up a little,” he says as he prepares to leave.

“Just a little,” I whisper, praying that the dim light in the supply closet hides my blush.

Bryce gives me wink as he exits the closet, leaving me alone to ponder my future at Edenbrook.

******************************************************************************

I didn’t let him beat me.

I follow Dr. Ramsey out of Annie’s room, grinning to myself. “So, I’ll fill out a prescription for some extra-strength antihistamines -”

“Don’t bother. I already have.”

I skid to a stop, my sneakers squeaking against the linoleum. “Beg pardon?”

He hands me a printed out prescription order for the exact medicine I was about to request. My grin fades and I tilt my head back to stare up at the taller doctor.

I swear to everything that is holy, his brain will be goo by the time I finish this internship.

“How long have you known?” I manage to grit out between clenched teeth. “And when were you planning on telling me?”

Dr. Ramsey checks his watch. “I’d planned to give you another forty-five minutes. I pulled up Annie’s chart to diagnose it myself, in the likely event you blew it. But I wanted to give you the chance to right the ship first.”

I am calm, I am a peaceful breeze, I am calm, I am a peaceful breeze… to hell with this.

“You should have treated her right away.”

He scowls down at me. “I was giving you an opportunity - ”

“I don’t give a shit about your opportunities,” I hiss, stepping closer to him until we’re toe to toe. “And I definitely don’t want your charity. I want my patients to get better. So next time, take care of the patient first, doctor.”

We’re both breathing quickly, our eyes locked together, neither one of us wanting to be the one to look away first. I’m intensely aware of how much larger he is, and I can feel the heat of his body even through his lab coat and button-down shirt. Something in his gaze softens and the tension in his body fades a little.

“Rookie…” he says, his voice soft. “I respect how much you care about you patients’ wellbeing. But if I don’t push you to grow, then how many lives will be lost down the line because you’re not ready?”

I hate to admit it, but I can understand his reasoning.

I’ll choke and die before I tell him that though.

“Believe me when I say this was not for your sake. I need good doctors by my side. There’s only one of me, after all,” he continues. “But you showed potential. Not to mention maybe the most important trait a doctor can have.”

I raise my eyebrows, silently prompting him to finish his thought.

“You listened. You took the time to get to know your patient. Their story, their hopes, their fears… Sometimes those are the key to saving their life.”

I nod along as he speaks, captivated by the intensity in his blue eyes and the deep timbre of his voice, unknowingly leaning even closer to him. Aurora suddenly rushes up to us, looking flustered. Realizing how close we’ve gotten I spring away from Dr. Ramsey, nervously shoving my glasses further up onto the bridge of my nose. He, on the other hand, seems to be completely unaffected, which sends an irrational spike of annoyance through me.

She looks into the room and sees Annie sitting up and smiling, then turns and glares at me. “What the hell? You went ahead and presented without me?”

I widen my eyes and stare at her. “Excuse me? In case you - ”

“Annie was your patient as well, Dr. Emery,” Dr. Ramey interrupts me, his voice frosty. He eyes Aurora with disdain. "What the hell have you been doing while Dr. O’Shea was making a diagnosis?”

Aurora hesitates, glancing over at me.

Oh, I know she doesn’t think I’m going to cover for her.

I clamp my mouth shut and stare her down as she squirms under Ramsey’s glower.

“That was not a rhetorical question,” Ramsey barks. “One of you needs to answer me.”

I smirk and continuing silently staring at her, refusing to be the one who breaks first.

Finally Aurora cracks. “I was in Chief Emery’s office,” she admits sullenly. “She paged me this morning after we examined Annie.”

“And you’ve been there all day?” He looks deeply unimpressed.

Aurora gives him a short, stiff nod.

“Dr. Emery, patient assignments are not optional.” Ramsey scowls at her one final time before stalking off, leaving Aurora and I standing in awkward silence.

“That’s really what you were doing all day? Just sitting in your aunt’s office?” I eye her curiously.

Aurora’s expression hardens. “What do you care? You clearly didn’t need my help.”

I allow myself a small, pleased smile. “No I didn’t, did I?”

She whirls around, huffing in annoyance, and stomps away from me.

******************************************************************************

After my shift ends I hurry to the locker room, taking just enough time to quickly shower and slip into a clean sweater and pair of jeans, before rushing to meet Sienna in the atrium.

“You survived!” she exclaims with a big smile. “Ready to hit the bar?”

“You have no idea,” I sigh, dropping my head onto her shoulder. An easy feat since we’re roughly the same height.

She pats my back soothingly. “Let’s go then.”

Just a few blocks from the hospital, Donahue’s is dingy, dim, and completely packed with Edenbrook staff members. Sienna confidently leads me through the throngs of people to a booth where Landry, Jackie, and Elijah are waiting for us.

“Come on!” Landry urges. “There’s still sixty-seven seconds left in happy hour!”

Elijah rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “Who cares? We’re all a hundred-k in debt anyway.”

“Relax, Landry. I put in quite a few orders before the buzzers.” Jackie grins as a barback arrives bearing a huge trays of shots.

“You are a goddess. We lowly beings are not worthy of you,” I praise her as I reach for a shot. I toss it back and sigh as it burns its way down, erasing some of the stress of my day. I grab a second glass and the others join me. We all raise them in the air.

“To the end of our first shift! And ten hours off the clock!” Elijah proclaims.

We clink our glasses together and throw back our shots.

Landry gags as his goes down. “Don’t we have any salt? Or limes?”

“Doctor up, Landry. Lime and salt are for wimps,” Jackie retorts, pushing another shot glass into his hand.

We all raise another toast.

“How about… To new friends!” Sienna ventures.

Once again we clink and drink.

Jackie points at me. “Your turn Rory!”

I grab another shot and raise it above my head. “To the start of an amazing career, despite Ethan Ramsey’s best efforts! And in a few years, we’ll take the jobs of every attending who ever treated us like dirt!”

My new friends and I whoop and tipsily giggle as we down another tequila shot.

****************************************************************************

Ethan quietly nurses his drink at the bar and unobtrusively observes O’Shea pound shots with a booth full of other interns. Whatever they’re drinking has caused O’Shea’s normally pale cheeks to flush, and he’s taken his hair out of it’s neat bun, allowing the inky waves to flow over his shoulders and around his face. The sweater he’s wearing may have been black at one point, but has been washed so many times it’s a faded grey and looks incredibly soft to the touch.

“See something you like, Ethan?” Reggie asks, leaning over the bar and following the doctor’s gaze.

“Don’t you have other customers to bother?” Ethan responds, downing the last of his scotch.

Reggie just chuckles as he looks at something over Ethan’s left shoulder. O’Shea bounces up to the bar and takes a seat on the stool next to him, his legs dangling and feet swinging aimlessly as he waits for Reggie to finish up another customer’s order.

Ethan takes the time to study Rory out of the corner of his eye, noting the way his jeans show off the litheness of his body and the faint smattering of freckles running over the bridge of his nose, making him look even younger than his 28 years. Then those green eyes flit over to rest on him.

“Can I help you with something, Dr. Ramsey?” Rory asks, blinking at him owlishly through the thick lenses of his glasses.

“Just noticing how… different you look out in the real world.”

Rory leans a little closer, nearly tipping over into the older man’s lap. “Do you like it?” he whispers playfully.

Ethan’s eyes widen in shock. If he had any doubts before, now he’s absolutely certain the intern is at least mildly intoxicated. But he can't deny that the warm weight of Rory leaning against his arm and the smell of his grapefruit and vanilla shampoo is intoxicating.

“What’ll it be?” Reggie asks, tossing his bar rag over his shoulder.

Rory glances over at Ethan’s empty liquor glass, then beckons Reggie closer with a mischievous smile. He balances precariously on the bar stool, stretching so he can whisper into the bartender’s ear. In a rare moment of weakness Ethan glances at Rory’s back, admiring the flow of his dark hair over his shoulders, the smooth curve of his spine, and the way the denim of his jeans hugs his tight, firm…

Ethan is startled out of his thoughts as Rory thumps back down onto his barstool with a self-satisfied smile. Just a few moments later he learns the reason for Rory’s grin as Reggie sets down two colorful cocktails in front of them, each garnished with a paper umbrella, an orange slice, and a maraschino cherry.

Ethan physically recoils from the drink as Rory tries to hide his snickering behind his hands. “What is that abomination?”

“A Sex on the Beach.” Rory pulls his own drink closer and wraps his lips around the colorful straw, tasting it with a contented sigh.

The air around Ethan ratchets up a few degrees as he watches Rory’s full lips close around the tip of the straw. “That’s not what I was drinking.”

“I know,” Rory replies, coming up for air, half of his drink already gone. “You were drinking scotch, but scotch is gross. So I ordered you something delicious instead. You’re welcome.”

“You know I can’t be bribed into favoring you,” Ethan says, eyeing the cocktail with distaste.

Rory’s expression darkens and he visibly struggles to control his delicate features. He eventually gives Ethan’s a crooked smirk. “Don’t worry, Dr. Ramsey. I already know exactly what you think of me. Enjoy the rest of your night.”

By the time Ethan recovers from his shock Rory has already slipped off of his barstool and rejoined his friends.

“Busy making friends, Ramsey?” Reggie asks, eyeing him curiously.

Ethan is momentarily lost for words. “I don’t… I… I’m not sure what just happened.”

“I don’t believe that young man likes you very much.”

“I’m his boss. He doesn’t need to like me.” Despite his words Ethan feels a pinprick of something… disappointment? at the thought of Rory not enjoying his company. Belatedly he also realizes that at some point during the evening he had start to think of the younger man as Rory, not O’Shea.

Reggie hums non-committally, clearing not believing his words. Exasperated, Ethan signals for another scotch, hoping to chase away the lingering sense of uneasiness Rory has left him with. Reggie sets the drink down in front of him and silently moves away, leaving the doctor to his own thoughts.

“Traitor!”

“Get it Lahela!”

Ethan looks towards the far side of the bar, back by the dartboards, just in time to see the handsome surgical intern from this morning dip Rory backwards and kiss him. The kiss becomes more passionate as Rory threads his fingers through the other man’s hair, and the surgeon, Lahela, presses even closer, until there is no space left between the two.

The same stomach unsettling feeling from this morning comes roaring back, and Ethan turns away, pulling the drink Rory had bought him closer. He takes a sip, the fruity drink leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, much like the sight of Rory wrapped up in Lahela’s arms does.

6 notes · View notes

destinyimage · 1 year ago

Text

How to Touch the Presence of God: 3 Practical Steps for Communion

Who has ever been frustrated about spiritual things?

Let me be the first to raise my hand to that! When I was newly saved, it seemed that some super-spiritual believers seemed to know something I didn’t. Most of the churches I attended had a few of these “have” individuals, but many of us, in my opinion, appeared to be “have-nots.”

Now, don’t get me wrong. Although I was a very cerebral person, I did have some experience feeling the presence of God, hearing His voice, and enjoying a newfound love for Jesus. So, it wasn’t hopeless—just limited!

A revival broke out in Toronto, Canada, after I had been a believer for a number of years. Although I traveled there several times hoping to receive a spiritual impartation, it never happened. Others were falling, shaking, experiencing visitations of the Spirit, and I don’t know what else, but I just watched, an outsider looking in.

When we lined up to be prayed over, one of the prayer ministers commented to me that the anointing was coming back on her because I wasn’t receiving. Double and triple frustration! Later I learned that the Toronto church had coined the term HTR for people like me—Hard to Receive. Great, now had now earned a label!

In spite of being clueless, I was hungry for God.

The fruit of the Spirit was a profound mystery to me during this time. Based on what I had been taught, I believed the fruit of the Spirit grew as the result of godly character. But how could I actually tell if I had any? And how does godly character grow anyway? By trying harder to obey God’s commandments? Spending more time in prayer? Reading the Bible more? Doing good deeds? I lived in low-grade anxiety most of the time; so much so that, when we first met, Dennis, my soon-to-be husband, called me “little Much Afraid” after the main character in Hannah Hurnard’s book, Hinds’ Feet on High Places.

The fruit of the Spirit was more of a mental concept than an experience for me. The feeling of peace was elusive. Joy was likewise perplexing. Was it like the excitement I had felt about birthday parties as a child? How could we recapture that feeling as an adult? It seemed baffling, but I wanted it. When an intriguing flyer arrived in the mail announcing an upcoming women’s conference on the joy of the Lord, I registered posthaste.

Sadly, the conference turned out to be a major disappointment. The speakers mostly taught what the Bible said about joy. I had read those Scripture verses for myself already. One woman said she had experienced supernatural joy once, but didn’t know how she got “it” or if “it” would ever happen again. Apparently no one had joy, or knew how to get any!

Years later Dennis and I met at a Christian conference in Jacksonville, Florida, where we were both attending as intercessors. He was a single pastor from Charlotte, North Carolina, and I was a widowed Christian counselor from Waycross, Georgia.

In one of our meetings, a young woman, suddenly had an emotional meltdown and began weeping on the floor. At first, no one helped her, but Dennis soon went over to her and bent down beside her on one knee.

Dennis led her in praying through multiple emotional wounds. One at a time, he addressed each new area that came up. Only after she felt true deep relief did Dennis move on to another issue. Astonishingly, it took only a few minutes to address each area of fear or hurt. All the intercessors were gathered around, watching in amazement.

I was blown away by how much emotional pain was dealt with and how fast the relief came to her. I had seen lots of counseling and psychological therapies over the years, but nothing like this. In under ten minutes The now-peaceful woman was standing on her feet, with a smile on her face. Wow! This is huge! I thought. This is the answer everyone is yearning for!

I felt like I had just witnessed the cure for “emotional cancer.” This was the missing ingredient needed to heal wounded people and a troubled church. Here, at long last, was the secret for healing emotional pain quickly and efficiently. Stunned by this rapid, visible transformation, the person in charge of the meeting stood with her mouth wide open and incredulously asked Dennis, “Who are you?”

Later at the conference I asked Dennis to pray for me. As we closed our eyes, I learned my first how-to lesson. Dennis told me to open my heart, which at first confused me because I was thinking of the physical heart. It took me a while to get his point. However, with a little more instruction, I began to understand what he was referring to. He told me to put my hand on my belly and yield to Messiah within. Belly? That was different. I had never connected heart and belly before, but John 7:38 (KJV) flashed in my mind: “He that believeth on Me [Jesus], as the scripture hath said, out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.” (This concept is further explained in our book, Abiding in the Secret Place.)

/*<![CDATA[*/ (function () { var scriptURL = 'https://sdks.shopifycdn.com/buy-button/latest/buy-button-storefront.min.js'; if (window.ShopifyBuy) { if (window.ShopifyBuy.UI) { ShopifyBuyInit(); } else { loadScript(); } } else { loadScript(); } function loadScript() { var script = document.createElement('script'); script.async = true; script.src = scriptURL; (document.getElementsByTagName('head')[0] || document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0]).appendChild(script); script.onload = ShopifyBuyInit; } function ShopifyBuyInit() { var client = ShopifyBuy.buildClient({ domain: 'nori-media-group.myshopify.com', storefrontAccessToken: 'd4019987e189be3ec0cf97ea37531adb', }); ShopifyBuy.UI.onReady(client).then(function (ui) { ui.createComponent('product', { id: '7163230748856', node: document.getElementById('product-component-1684855586301'), moneyFormat: '%24%7B%7Bamount%7D%7D', options: { "product": { "styles": { "product": { "@media (min-width: 601px)": { "max-width": "calc(25% - 20px)", "margin-left": "20px", "margin-bottom": "50px" } }, "title": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "color": "#000000" }, "button": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "background-color": "#ffb400", ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "border-radius": "25px", "padding-left": "26px", "padding-right": "26px" }, "price": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "color": "#444444" }, "compareAt": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "color": "#444444" }, "unitPrice": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "color": "#444444" }, "description": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif" } }, "contents": { "button": false, "buttonWithQuantity": true }, "text": { "button": "Add to cart" }, "googleFonts": [ "Roboto", "Droid Sans" ] }, "productSet": { "styles": { "products": { "@media (min-width: 601px)": { "margin-left": "-20px" } } } }, "modalProduct": { "contents": { "img": false, "imgWithCarousel": true, "button": false, "buttonWithQuantity": true }, "styles": { "product": { "@media (min-width: 601px)": { "max-width": "100%", "margin-left": "0px", "margin-bottom": "0px" } }, "button": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "background-color": "#ffb400", ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "border-radius": "25px", "padding-left": "26px", "padding-right": "26px" }, "title": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", "font-size": "26px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "price": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "18px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "compareAt": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "15.299999999999999px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "unitPrice": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "15.299999999999999px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "description": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "14px", "color": "#4c4c4c" } }, "googleFonts": [ "Roboto", "Droid Sans" ] }, "option": { "styles": { "label": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif" }, "select": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif" } }, "googleFonts": [ "Roboto" ] }, "cart": { "styles": { "button": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "background-color": "#ffb400", ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "border-radius": "25px" }, "title": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "header": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "lineItems": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "subtotalText": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "subtotal": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "notice": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "currency": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "close": { "color": "#4c4c4c", ":hover": { "color": "#4c4c4c" } }, "empty": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "noteDescription": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountText": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountIcon": { "fill": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountAmount": { "color": "#4c4c4c" } }, "text": { "title": "Checkout powered by Faith & Flame" }, "googleFonts": [ "Droid Sans" ] }, "toggle": { "styles": { "toggle": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", "background-color": "#ffb400", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" } } }, "googleFonts": [ "Droid Sans" ] }, "lineItem": { "styles": { "variantTitle": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "title": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "price": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "fullPrice": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discount": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountIcon": { "fill": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantity": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantityIncrement": { "color": "#4c4c4c", "border-color": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantityDecrement": { "color": "#4c4c4c", "border-color": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantityInput": { "color": "#4c4c4c", "border-color": "#4c4c4c" } } } }, }); }); } })(); /*]]>*/

I had always wondered why Jesus used the word belly here, but now I began to understand.

Prior to this, I had always thought my spiritual heart was in my chest where my physical heart was located, even though the Bible clearly said it was in the belly. Never before had I heard anyone tell someone to yield their heart, or where to yield, or how to yield. However, as I attempted to cooperate with what Dennis was telling me to do, he continually encouraged me, saying, “There, you’re doing it.” At the same time, I could actually feel the difference inside.

I don’t remember exactly what we prayed about, but looking back I can see that he led me through some how-tos for tangible change inside of me. I certainly didn’t catch the full significance of what I was learning at the time. However, it was obvious that Dennis had a unique anointing and profound spiritual authority, and he was teaching principles that were entirely new to me.

We soon became friends and, after a whirlwind romance, we were married.

Because I was so hungry for God but clueless, I asked Dennis to disciple me.

I didn’t learn anything else about joy until after Dennis and I were married. It was wonderful news to discover that he had the very answers I was seeking. One of the first evenings we prayed together, he asked me to get in an attitude of prayer. He told me to put my hand on my belly and yield to Messiah within.

Next, Dennis said, “Close your eyes and pray. That peace you’re feeling, that is supernatural peace—the peace of God. Now relax and yield even more to Jesus. That little bubble you’re feeling is supernatural joy, the fruit of the Spirit.”

By the way, because Dennis operates in a strong gifting of discerning of spirits, he was able to identify what I was feeling. Peace and joy are fruit of the Spirit. Now I had discovered that, far from being mysterious, we can tap into the fruit of the Spirit at any time! How marvelous! What a life-changing discovery!

As I also learned later, we emanate an anointing when we touch the presence of God. When believers are in a worship service, the atmosphere feels “worshipful” because of the anointing flowing from them. An anointing also flows through us when we open our hearts toward others and allow a river of love to flow to them. As a matter of fact, we can create a carnal or a spiritual emotional atmosphere around us that influences others, for good or bad.

Finding God

When I was a brand-new believer the Lord had quickened Jeremiah 29:13 (NKJV) to me and it delighted my heart: “You will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.” Find God? How thrilling! But how do you seek and search? Turning to books, I read everything I could find about the saints of old who had rich experiences with God. This began a quest to know more of God, finding Him in the secret place where He dwells. We encounter God there!

What is the main reason that believers, who are hungry for God, fail to commune with Him regularly in the secret place? They don’t know how!

I didn’t know how either—until I met my husband. And you know what? I later wrote down everything Dennis taught me so we could help other cerebral, frustrated, or HTR believers! Many believers have also judged themselves, or have been judged, as unspiritual. That is a tremendous hindrance to spiritual growth.

Practice

How to Touch the Presence of God

If you ever sat quietly in a church service and felt a special sense that God was near, you have touched His presence. That was not your imagination. Even unsaved people sometimes sense a “different” feeling in a church service or funeral when believers are present. That gentle awareness is actually the supernatural peace found in the secret place.

Close your eyes.

Focus on Jesus in the secret place within your heart. When you invited Jesus into your heart, you became indwelt by Him. He never leaves you. He is always near.

Relax and silently praise or worship Him while you wait quietly for a few minutes. Most believers can sense a gentle difference. That difference is His presence in the secret place. If you feel nothing different or aren’t sure, don’t worry. Remember, the change is very subtle. Most believers grow in the ability to sense His closeness over time.

/*<![CDATA[*/ (function () { var scriptURL = 'https://sdks.shopifycdn.com/buy-button/latest/buy-button-storefront.min.js'; if (window.ShopifyBuy) { if (window.ShopifyBuy.UI) { ShopifyBuyInit(); } else { loadScript(); } } else { loadScript(); } function loadScript() { var script = document.createElement('script'); script.async = true; script.src = scriptURL; (document.getElementsByTagName('head')[0] || document.getElementsByTagName('body')[0]).appendChild(script); script.onload = ShopifyBuyInit; } function ShopifyBuyInit() { var client = ShopifyBuy.buildClient({ domain: 'nori-media-group.myshopify.com', storefrontAccessToken: 'd4019987e189be3ec0cf97ea37531adb', }); ShopifyBuy.UI.onReady(client).then(function (ui) { ui.createComponent('product', { id: '7163230748856', node: document.getElementById('product-component-1684855540440'), moneyFormat: '%24%7B%7Bamount%7D%7D', options: { "product": { "styles": { "product": { "@media (min-width: 601px)": { "max-width": "100%", "margin-left": "0", "margin-bottom": "50px" }, "text-align": "left" }, "title": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-size": "26px", "color": "#000000" }, "button": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "background-color": "#ffb400", ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "border-radius": "25px", "padding-left": "26px", "padding-right": "26px" }, "price": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-size": "18px", "color": "#444444" }, "compareAt": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-size": "15.299999999999999px", "color": "#444444" }, "unitPrice": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-size": "15.299999999999999px", "color": "#444444" }, "description": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif" } }, "layout": "horizontal", "contents": { "img": false, "imgWithCarousel": true, "button": false, "buttonWithQuantity": true, "description": true }, "width": "100%", "text": { "button": "Add to cart" }, "googleFonts": [ "Roboto", "Droid Sans" ] }, "productSet": { "styles": { "products": { "@media (min-width: 601px)": { "margin-left": "-20px" } } } }, "modalProduct": { "contents": { "img": false, "imgWithCarousel": true, "button": false, "buttonWithQuantity": true }, "styles": { "product": { "@media (min-width: 601px)": { "max-width": "100%", "margin-left": "0px", "margin-bottom": "0px" } }, "button": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "background-color": "#ffb400", ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "border-radius": "25px", "padding-left": "26px", "padding-right": "26px" }, "title": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", "font-size": "26px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "price": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "18px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "compareAt": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "15.299999999999999px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "unitPrice": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "15.299999999999999px", "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "description": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif", "font-weight": "normal", "font-size": "14px", "color": "#4c4c4c" } }, "googleFonts": [ "Roboto", "Droid Sans" ] }, "option": { "styles": { "label": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif" }, "select": { "font-family": "Roboto, sans-serif" } }, "googleFonts": [ "Roboto" ] }, "cart": { "styles": { "button": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "background-color": "#ffb400", ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, "border-radius": "25px" }, "title": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "header": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "lineItems": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "subtotalText": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "subtotal": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "notice": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "currency": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "close": { "color": "#4c4c4c", ":hover": { "color": "#4c4c4c" } }, "empty": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "noteDescription": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountText": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountIcon": { "fill": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountAmount": { "color": "#4c4c4c" } }, "text": { "title": "Checkout powered by Faith & Flame" }, "googleFonts": [ "Droid Sans" ] }, "toggle": { "styles": { "toggle": { "font-family": "Droid Sans, sans-serif", "font-weight": "bold", "background-color": "#ffb400", ":hover": { "background-color": "#e6a200" }, ":focus": { "background-color": "#e6a200" } } }, "googleFonts": [ "Droid Sans" ] }, "lineItem": { "styles": { "variantTitle": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "title": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "price": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "fullPrice": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discount": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "discountIcon": { "fill": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantity": { "color": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantityIncrement": { "color": "#4c4c4c", "border-color": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantityDecrement": { "color": "#4c4c4c", "border-color": "#4c4c4c" }, "quantityInput": { "color": "#4c4c4c", "border-color": "#4c4c4c" } } } }, }); }); } })(); /*]]>*/

0 notes

its-tea-time-darling · 2 years ago

Text

It's Show & Tell Time!

Reblog and tag a blog (or blogs) you think others should follow!

marvelous. love this. thanks elise for reccing my blog <3 @abtyouandme

so. this will probably escalate ever so slightly, but it is not ME who is to blame, instead it is my many talented, wonderful and adorable mutuals who should be blamed here.

maze runner blogs you should follow:

@manako-no-yami clod's writing sideblog. read her fics.

@newtedison sami's tmr (side?) blog that has an archive of wonderful edits

@crestfallercanyon who writes loads of good things and if you're lucky you're gonna catch her ramble on about a wonderful, intricate new headcanon she's thought of

@persnickett moodboards and edits and snarky comments, AND links to her fics and fic updates.

@subjecta5newtella whatever santeri says about minho, i agree. (coined the term white boy summer agenda, like please.)

@dahliia04 who has equally smart things to say.

@timgayne search dee's blog for fic rec lists, thank me later. i most prominently remember the minewt and nalby ones. a gem for collecting them! do also read dee's thomally.

@nice-to-meet-ya-shank swift's tmr sideblog, thomesa fan and friend of the first hour. @swift-creates for her fics moodboards etc.

@thomesa-week-2022 this is kind of tooting my own horn, but check out the blog for thomesa week 2022 that took place in january this year. such wonderful creations!

@translated-tmr if i've already started tooting my own horn: look at the event blog for the translation gift exchange that took place this spring. maze runner fics, translated into 9 different languages!

@iasconsumesmedia ias' writing sideblog. if you love yourself you'll read her thomiho, thomally and thomesa.

@thominho-incorrectquotes momo. momo thinks about thominho. you wanna watch him do that, believe me. (he also writes, and. yes.)

@mazegays nix has lots to say. (and writes and organizes thominho week and does so many cool things:000)

@thominho-week2022 speaking of - the thominho week blog. archives from years back, treat yourself!

@thomallyweek speaking of ship week blogs: treat yourself to this year's thomally week sweets. thanks to clod and crest for organize it you did an amazing job ily

@itsthemxze molly makes edit and writes and reblogs funny stuff, i think you want to follow them

@voidstilesplease so shara is most notably a steo shipper, but i have cried over her thomally and thomesa writings and edits. treat yourself.

@dont-bee-shy alexie writes, and when she does she will wreck your heart (but you will thank her) (esp. recommend the soniet royalty au, it's *chef's kiss*)

@go-catch-a-chickn fabs makes wonderful moodboards and writes equally wonderful fics. recently (or not so recently anymore actually) converted to also enjoying thomally in addition to newtmas. what a joy.

@ohbluesky juliette draws. (and does so wonderfully)

@hope92100 finds all the beautiful edits that have been buried in the depths of tumblr. daily gems. also brenderesa moodboars!

@gladerscake gally x reader writer and producer of countless incorrect quotes of which i can never settle on a favorite.

@newtmsa angie writes and makes beautiful moodboards/fanart thingies for her fics, it's amazing.

@00250 jamie isn't so active anymore, but she has made so many amazing edits, search her blog.

@nachoupala lena likes to hit her characters over the head with polyamory, and i think you want to watch her do it.

@visro has lots to say about zart. was also the one who wrote that tweet to which trashner replied newt was gay. (legend behavior helloo)

and last but not least:

@mazerunnersecretsanta the blog for the annual maze runner secret santa. an amazingly wide array of content that is produced each year. browse the ao3 and the blog, and find gems you never knew you needed!

wow, i was so good at keeping it short, only 25 blogs listed! <3

this was by all means not be a conclusive list, please add on if you want to.

also: if you're looking to find more community in the maze runner fandom, there is various discord servers. drop me an ask or a message and i'll enlighten you.

108 notes · View notes

larentsaloud · 3 years ago

Note

Did Thyme borrow from Ren or Kavin the pink cream sweater for his line sticker. I could not believe it was a soft colour with no animal print!

Anon, you came asking the right questions.

Shall we do a review of Thyme’s fashion for the episode? Might need to be a weekly thing.

Outfit 1. The I Have A Girlfriend Proud Puppy

This fashion choice focuses on the simplicity of pink stripes to demonstrate victory using flames, bit like Phoenix rising from the Ashes. My boi wore this ludicrous outfit the night after he reconciled with Gorya. I like it because it’s blank and pink, and I love those colours. Just not together.

It’s STILL VERY tame in comparison with what P’Thyme has worn previously, so overall 6/10 considering that we even got a new chain that is not mafia sized. Look at him beaming with his GirLFriEnD. LMAO. This outfit screams twin flames.

Outfit 2. The I Demand Your Attention Now Gurl

Wow. I mean, a LV coat is chic and all. So that's neat.

And then we have unicorn dye shirt.

I loooooove this little number.

What would you wear after calling your gf 83 times and interrupting her lecture to confirm your relationship status and invite her on a date? Yeah. Exactly. You gotta be visible. Don’t hate the player, hate the game. 8/10 because Thyme is wearing a CHOKER. akjshaskjhd. SWAG.

Outfit 3. THE BABY IN RED

Please this was the CUTEST scene.

Not only is he excited at 3.30 am picking his outfit, but he’s wearing the least offensive dressing gown.

It suits him so much and he looks like a giant red bear who just needs lots and lots of cuddles. Poor Ren dealing with the fashion fiascos on that hanger.

PLS. We all died when he was gunna wear that safari get up with binoculars, right? Oi ve. Cutie. 10/10

Outfit 4. THE DATE I DIDN’T PLAN BUT MY GF DID AND NOW I AM TRAPPED DOING THINGS I DON’T LIKE BUT GOTTA BEHAVE COS I LUV HER

Actual donut and leopard print shirt has been chosen by Ren.

*Crickets*

I am sensing ren-venge starting early. LMAO. I call this fashion choice the clash. We have Gorya wearing early 2005 Oliver Twist with a hint of Spice Girls and Madonna as @crazybooksandplantslady coined the term and Thyme is dressed as...Thyme and styled by Ren.

Absolute Fail but Thyme is so flipping sweet during the date, even though shit backfires FASTER than you can say ‘go back to France Ren’. So. Decisions. 4/ 10. Sorry.

I CAN’T DEFEND YOU PUP.

Outfit 5. THE MAD AT MY GF

This was the dreamiest softest Thyme. I WANT HIM TO HAVE CUDDLES W GORYA NOW IN THAT DUMB HOODIE OK??? I WANT HER TO PUT THE HOOD UP AND HIM TO DO PUPPY EYES AND THEN SHE’LL TIGHTEN THE STRINGS ON HIS HOOD AS HE LEANS IN TO KISS HER LOL. GMMTV DO NOT DISAPPOINT ME DUDE.

I love it, because the defences are down and we don’t have animal print. I have a theory that Thyme gears up into stripes to feel invincible. For battle. IDK where he got this from. But if it was from his wardrobe I need to see this on him few more times for science.

11/10.

Me covering my eyes anytime slander occurs of Thyme’s outfits.

Outfit 6. The Struggle Is Real ™️ Outfit AKA I wanted to apologise but my girlfriend is hugging my bestie so im pretty on edge about it all TBH

And last but not least the tiger is back. This is is decent. Although the mafia chain is back and I did not miss it.

7/10. I don’t like the poop jumper, but the fit was nice and he can wear literal garbage and look million bucks. Alright for some huh?

Hope this helps anon.

If I have forgotten anything lemme know.

♥️

#f4 #f4 thailand #f4 thailand: boys over flowers #thyme #thyme's fashun #fiascos we love to hate #fashionista thyme #rich and ugly fashion #<3

73 notes · View notes

missgeniality · 4 years ago

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

600 notes · View notes

nightowlfandom · 3 years ago

Text

Yandere! Corrupt Angel! Keigo Takami X Demon! Reader- Episode 1/3: The Same Side Of A Coin

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Hey friends.....this is a ride Theres talkings of suicide, sinning, degredation, heaven vs hell and religious themes. You’ve been warned.

Leggo

...

You stood in the middle of the dancefloor, staring around the room. Once a year heaven and hell would come together and host the gala of the century. The Dark One and The Holy One would set aside their differences one day out of the year and host a party bringing both their children together for a huge affair.

Every demon and angel across the nine realms would show up. The beautiful, the ethereal, and the not so beautiful too. You watched as each leader sat respectfully on their thrones.

You watched as The Dark One looked over his people. It was times like this you admired the man. Your soul had mistakenly fallen to the pits of hell when an angel who wouldn’t do their job correctly denied your entry to heaven. You were given special treatment as a result.

The other demons knew you didn’t do anything wrong and they didn’t hold it against you. In fact, the other demons treated you like a kid sister. They never let you near any real demon business.

“Ah, Young Y/N! Come!” The Dark One waved you over. “There’s someone you must meet my child.”

“Yes, Sir!” you gave a thumbs up from the crowd. “Excuse me, Pardon me.” you shimmied through the crowd. You caught the eye of many angels. The other demons spoke highly of you, saying how the feather freaks would be lucky to have you...they were right.

You wore a black gown, with a pretty decorative necklace. Your wrists were decorated in beautiful lace cuffs that matched the rings on your right hand.

“Y/N, my word you look beautiful as ever.” The Dark One praised. “I want you to meet-”

“The Holy One, I know you...my family speaks...spoke-” you corrected yourself. “Highly of you.”

“Y/N, as I live and breathe. Old Goat Face wasn’t kidding.”

“Oh shut up and fix your bedsheet, Cloud Breath.”

You giggled as the two argued like siblings.

“Y/N, I would like to personally apologize. I’m afraid some of my children can be quite...elite about who the let through the gates.”

You remember being thrown down the stairs, falling for a while, then landing next to a lake of lava. Of course that was a while ago.

“It’s okay...not like I was the purest soul in the world anyways.” you shrugged.

“Sin does not define you my child, I’m sure your heart would have landed you here with me had a different angel been working that day.”

That didn’t change the fact that you were booted to hell. No one could change that even if they wanted to.

“Ah! Keigo My boy! Over here!” You watched as The Holy One waves someone over. You kept your eyes on the Dark One.

“How are you holding up, dear?”

“I’m well.” you bowed respectfully. “Sorry for not socializing enough.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about, my dear girl. As long as you are enjoying yourself.”

You smiled, about to reply when a new body came into the picture. A tall man, in a black tuxedo strode up to you, the dark, and the holy One. he was obviously an angel from his golden thin rimmed halo hanging above his head of sandy brown hair. Only instead of white wings, his were blood red. They were unlike any you’ve ever seen before. You had never seen a higher level angel before in the flesh.

“Y/N, Triple 6....this is Keigo.”

“Nice to meet you, man. Don’t let twinkle toes tell you anything about us. Demons aren’t so bad. Y/N here is proof of that.”

“Y/N huh?” you finally met his sharp eyes. His gaze held yours for what felt like an eternity. His smug expression slightly faltered as he stared at you. His lips parted slightly at the sight of you. Never in all his days had he seen such a low level demon hold such a high priestess appearance. “I’m...charmed to meet you.”

“Likewise.” you bowed your head respectfully. You had noticed a few select demons getting near you. All the upper levels seemed to glare at this Keigo person with intense hate and you were positive it wasn’t just because of the color differences.

“You don’t have horns.”

“Excuse me?” you raised an eyebrow.

“You have no horns.” he said again, a smirk teasing his lips.

You moved your hair from in front of your forehead to reveal two little bone-ish stubs. They weren’t sharp, nor prominent like the higher-ups. You remembered the others saying you needed horns that fit you just right. They would grow...eventually.

“Hm, Keigo, Y/N...why don’t you two go on the dancefloor?” The Holy One asked.

“With this asshole? No thanks.” you rolled your eyes. “You think just because your higher up than me, you can disrespect me?” you crossed your arms. (Read more below the break)

...

“Disrespect. Dear girl, it was merely an observation!” he looked amused at your anger.

“Don’t you smile at me.” you seethed. “I know a pompous ass when I see it.”

“Y/N, do try and calm yourself.” The Dark One put a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure he didn’t mean it with malice.”

“Come on. What do you say.” he held out his hand. He winked.

“Only because I refuse to say no to a God twice.” you seethed.

Everyone watched as Keigo, wings spread crossed the dancefloor with you on his arm. You obviously weren’t too happy, given your first impression had already down down the drain.

He’d better not touch Y/N if he knows what’d good for him,

Keigo of all people, dancing with a demon doesn’t surprise me.

You tried to ignore the gossip as a hand rested at the base of your spine. Keigo looked down at you, his smugness unwavering as he began move with you to the music. It was a low, slow jazzy tune with what could be described as a ‘sensual piano’ melody.

“I really didn’t mean it the way you took it, doll.” he whispered in your ear. “But you’ve got fire, I respect that.”

“I..I’m sorry.” you sighed. “I’m just...used to people degrading me because-”

“This is so new to you.” he finished, his smile slightly faltering. “I was like that too, thousands of years ago.”

“Well I’m on year two so-” you scoffed. “It’s not that bad...I guess. Hell isn’t as bad as the books say it is.”

“Well heaven isn’t all clouds and rainbows either, doll. I’ve been banished so many times I’ve lost count.”

“Banished? I don’t understand.” you tilted your head to the side.

Keigo could see what was left of your innocent aura hanging around you. Most people who fell into the pits of hell were already long gone with no trace of human emotion or attachment. You...were different. It reminded him of...himself once upon a time.

“I’ve gone rogue. They tried to restrain me but they give keep giving me chances.” he shook his head. “That’s the think about the Cloud Kingdom, dear. They refuse to believe there are bad people in the world.”

“Is that why...your wings are-”

‘No...that’s more of a stylistic choice...can’t let all those souls go to waste can I?” he winked. “Red suits me don’t you think.”

“Y-yes.” you replied honestly, finding it hard to lie.

“So what about you?” he raised an eyebrow. Among the hum of the other patrons and the music, not to mention your demonic heart thumping loudly against your chest you felt Keigo’s breath on the shell of your ear. It was like he was telling you a secret. “What brings you to the pits...killing an ant by accident?”

“My application for the gates was apparently denied.”

“No why would that be.” you don’t look like the type to sin.

“Trust me.” you shook your head. “I’ve sinned more times than I can count...I guess putting a bullet in my head was the last straw.”

Keigo’s breath hitched in his throat as you told your story. You...you shot yourself? Such a small thing? You weren’t a murderer, or god forbid anything else. He felt himself silently fill with rage. You had the glow of an angel that was for sure.

“I’ve come to terms with it. Guess I wasn’t worthy.” you shrugged.

“You are always worthy.” he abruptly cut you off. “It’s these white wear wearing, cloud riding fuckers that aren’t worthy.” he seethed. ‘What other sins could you have possibly committed.”

“...The Dark One hasn’t told you?...I’m a lust demon in training.” you explained. “I used sex to fill voids when I was alive. When I couldn’t replace my pain with pleasure...kapow!” you put your fingers to your head and faked a gunshot.

“Lust demon?” Keigo raised an eyebrow. “That explains why you look so sexy tonight.” he flirted.

“Are you hitting on me?” your eyes widened.

“Depends. Do you like it?”

You hadn’t noticed that Keigo body was flush against yours. Skin to skin. You felt warm, scorching hot beneath him. That was the demon fire.

“Y-yeah.” you nodded. “I do...wow-” you stepped back from him and fanned yourself.

“Is everything alright?” Keigo stepped forward and laced his hands in yours.

“What have you done to our sister?” a high priestess demoness waltzed up. She glared at Keigo who seemed unfazed, only raising an eyebrow. “Y/N, Dear are you alright?”

“I don’t know.” your chest heaved. “I feel- so...” you partially moaned.

“What has this angel scum done to our sister.” a male demon stormed up. He unfurled his dragon-esque wings. “Sister Y/N, say something.”

“I need air...I have to go outside.” you immediately walked away. Keigo, in a confused state watched you walk away.

“Sister Y/N is unwell! We must go after her.”

“She’ll be fine, we’ll know if she’s in trouble.”

Call it instinct, but he had to follow you.

106 notes · View notes

1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years ago

Text

Tues 30 March ‘21

Happy Tuesday! And to make it a happier tuesday, here’s Louis bursting on the scene to spread some cheer: “every day is a day closer to the first show back!” And that’s just the beginning! Someone asks if he has thought about making a documentary-- “already on it love” he replied. Listen yes, we knew that was what he and Charlie Lightening were up to BUT STILL- OMG!!! SOOO cool. Some people are not so sure but me, I think it’ll be awesome- cannot wait! Trust in Louis yall. And just to prove he’s a man you can trust he reacts in the ONLY correct way to react a dog modeling Walls merch-- “haha love that.” It’s wearing a bucket hat!! The Clifford picture we deserve tbh but for now this is excellent. He also said “got a decent chorus idea down” about what he’s been up to and doubled down on his most hotly debated tweet of recent times, 369. “Explain pls” begged a fan; “369” said Louis again, faaaanks for that love. That’s our guy, always forthcoming about his tattoos! Hahaha. AND THEN he responds to a tweet about how we always read too much into things but that he also trolls us with mystery posts: “fair comment”. WOW. He is truly a little shit and that is that on that! The man we love to hate ladies and theydies! And more on the louie topic of the moment people actually kind of hate, the NFTs. He’s asked about his recent follows and says, “some cool nft companies. I've been trying to educate myself in everything that already exists in that space.”

This year is gucci’s 100th anniversary I guess, and they are marking it by making a push to sell handbags, which means new pictures of Harry with a purses! Or so one can assume, the preview image we’ve seen so far is just his scruffy face, a lot of fluffy fur (on his Macklemore looking coat I mean but there is a lot of Harry hair on display too), and his dick necklace peeping out of the lapel of his shirt, looking extra obscene tbh cause the banana part is covered up so it’s just little unsolicited dick pic hiding in Harry’s chest hair, good lord. Yes yes we know babe you love gucci and dick and your gucci dick banana… anyway, the campaign drops April 22. It’s shot by Harmony Korine, who is a filmmaker, and a set director posted about working on a gucci commercial featuring Harry and Dakota Johnson back in Jan in LA so it seems safe to say there will be moving images to come. And speaking of Harry and filming, Heidi Gardner talked about doing SNL with Harry and told a story about him being reluctant to touch her shoulders for their sketch until she brought it up, and then him saying he was waiting for an explicit invitation to touch her. Aw, that’s our Harry; thoughtful and anxious. I feel like he works so hard to model the behavior he wants people to use towards him like, ‘people please I am begging can you please just be NICE and be respectful and stop grabbing me’, or maybe it’s just that he really understands firsthand how awful it feels to have your boundaries violated- either way I would love to manifest the same respect for him.

Ingrid Michaelson did a patreon live and talked about To Begin Again and how great having Zayn on the track has been; “Zayn's fans are intense. Very sweet. Aggressively supportive I think is the right word.” AHAHAHAHA YES ‘aggressively supportive’ might be the most perfect term anyone has ever coined for any subset of 1D fans so once again, HATS OFF to Ingrid the poet for a winning turn of phrase that I will certainly be using for a long time to come! She also said that the music video will be out in early April (and that it’s “a proper music video. It's not like your standard two people in a studio singing blah blah. It's different.”) Oh yeah and also that… Zayn and Gigi are married??! She said, “We’ve never met, I’ve never spoken to him. Zayn doesn’t do stuff he doesn’t wanna do and the fact that he did this song is very flattering. He’s such a private person and now he’s married and has a child so he does the things he wants to do…” prompting mass chaos in the zquad, but she later confirmed that she had just misspoken/ made an assumption based on their cohabiting and having a child together. And speaking of twitter leaping at the chance to go bananas over nothing, thousands flipped out because Lottie posted her gift bag from the Brits like “this means Louis is nominated for a Brit”!!! Lol WHAT? She got it cause she’s an influencer, but more to the point how does the SISTER of the nominee getting a gift bag make sense in any universe, you think they’re just looking up peoples’ family trees and everyone’s aunt gets a present like… WHAT??? Oh and also that they’re spilling the beans via gift bags before the big reveal… everything about that is ridiculous. Again, I’m sorry to say that I will be very surprised if Louis gets a nom but either way, we’ll find out tomorrow and not before.

And! You can bid now on a giant orange football jersey signed by Liam (or just look at the cute pic of him holding it)! It’s a benefit for the Wolves Foundation (a network of foodbanks in Liam’s hometown Wolverhampton, it’s unrelated to the criminally underrated 1D song alas). I hear it calling for you…

And finally, tune in tomorrow for Harry as Starfox rumors pt 369, this time For Real (only hmm nope probably not)

#Louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #zayn #so I have to admit that even in the time since yesterday I’ve looked at the NFT stuff more and am a little more interested #some of what other bands are using them for is cool and I can see why it’s the sort of stuff that makes sense with louis’ fanbase #exclusive special perks that play out over the long term and stuff #the main thing that I find super annoying about them is using the gimmicky platform to add a lot of invented value #to something that on its own isn’t worth much #but Louis wouldn’t do that. it’s true he has done a few merch items that were inaccessible… so it isn’t impossible…#but he always also has accessible stuff and I feel like that’s pretty rare #(ALTHOUGH shoutout to the HOOPS I had to go through to get that JHO vinyl without bankrupting myself FUCKING HELL)#but here’s the thing- the stuff that I see that seems like he could do and have it be cool #I REALLY don’t see how it would need to be an NFT and not just a special offer like I just do not understand how that’s a necessary part of #the picture #so that’s where it just feels like a stupid gimmick to me. but I guess we’ll see (or I’ll gain a better understanding about the whole thing #I do admit… it’s currently a bit shaky)#also lol @ the NFT blog that followed me yesterday I’m assuming that’s a bot and an error #and me aside: I see everyone inthe tags being like UGH NO <3 #he's gonna have an uphill battle with this one I think to win over the hearts and minds to the platform #30 mar 21 #when I saw people were flipping about lottie's post I thought it was cause she circled a blue and green part of the pic #and I thought I was doing a pretty great job of tapping into the twarrie mind #but I truly cannot even follow where these things actually go I would NEVER have thought of that

194 notes · View notes

myfriendpokey · 3 years ago

Text

GAME AWARDS

Pleased and delighted to be here hosting the official "Game'wards" for the 200th year in a row. What was the best game.. what WERE the games? What year is this? The choices you make will define who you become.

OBACA CARICATURE

Everyone's friend, Obaca, makes a triumphant return - this time as an NFT. Add it to your "digital wallet" and watch as his silently grimacing face gazes back at yours, perhaps enraged by your frivolous purchasing decisions. I can't help it, Dad. I love to spend.

CYBER SWISH:

Everybody's swishing nowadays. The Cyber Swish allows you to customise your swish sessions for optimal results. We talk a lot about games for change but this one is really walking the walk in terms of bringing the benefits of technology to the un-swished masses. Nobody will thank us for it but I don't care. It's about doing what's right.

SUPER 20 IN 1 GAME LIST:

A lot of people complain about AAA but the fact is they're the games that people want to play. Super 20 In 1 Game List may not have an "emotion button" or a "morality QTE" like the young people are crazy about but it delivers the goods whether your genre of choice is Master Shooter, Booky Man, JP Ronny or Tanks. Everybody is represented in this list, the dream of the melting pot is still alive.

THE TOMY "YEEAGHH!":

Enigmatic world power TOMY have never stopped innovating in the domain of terrible machines and this one screams at you as well now, I guess. Dapper yellow buttons are your interface with the inscrutable domain of object life; careful positioning makes them hard to chew off and believe me I've tried!! Winner of the Interface Award from highly compensated UI theorist "ButtonMan".

"IDEAL":

Like it or not - this is the "Ideal". His smiling face presides over our most intimate ambitions and dreams. Dead men fall from his hands like dew from the petals of a rose.. Standing atop the wreckage of the murderous charnel house that is world history he exclaims "Some SCRAP, Eh Kids !!" to nobody in particular. How true!! No doubt about it - that's the Ideal!

REALISTIC WOMAN VR HAND:

Begin building your own Realistic Woman today. It's never been easier with the help of this hand.

IRRESISTABLE OFFER:

Yes, just like the Devo song. "How many sad cats can I buy for a dollar?" These wonderful objects will surely form the basis of a new novelty twitter account in which videogames are "rated" according to how many sad cat pictures they contain, thus accidentally creating a shadow economy of games loading up on sad cat pics for the purposes of temporary internet engagement. However "Game, Award" shall countenance no competition - we stand and wait with flaming sword at the gate to metrics paradise. Dreadful will be our wrath once we've got our shit together, maybe learned to drive. Watch out!

THE LITTLE HAND:

Stiff competition in the hand biz. It reaches out to grab a coin, thus making a trenchant social point about something or other. I'm sure you can find many uses for this hand. For example: if the little hand steals something, are you legally culpable for what it grabs? What about if you "find" something it stole? Rediscover the founding incentives of automation as a discipline, today.

GOLDEN MASK:

Folks we really have an all-timer here. Are you even a true gamer if you don't contemplate the Golden Mask?

Well that's all we have, it's been a wonderful year, an incredible year! Truly a remarkable year, the great year, uh... year X, the secret year, the forbidden year. Watch out! Ha ha ha! We're all having fun in this crazy year of (helplessly guessing) 1913. Certainly a year that mankind will look back on later, and say that wow, it was all uphill from here.

AND THE WINNER IS....

What the--?! A true upset, makes you think, the social order is overturned, and then returns, healthier than ever. Everyone is dancing and celebrating, all around me, pumping their fists at another win in the great beyblades arena that is cultural history. I try to look excited too but it's hard for me to keep up with all that's happening. For example - is it meant to be the Corpses that are large, or the Collection? Well, I never claimed to be able to understand art.

#game awards #geoghf?#gheoghfg #official #sponsored content #dorites

51 notes · View notes

sylverstorms · 3 years ago

Text

Miss Fortune x Reader ----Salt-Crusted Heart

For an easier read, head to Ao3.

Another day. Another hunt for a fetter.

Feels like this is your life now, your present and your future. It feels like this war against the ever-spreading mist and Viego will never end. Your days as a trainee Sentinel, where the tough schedule of the Academy was your only problem, seem so far away now it’s like they belong in a dream. Like that was a different you.

And it was, wasn’t it.

That ‘you’ hadn’t ever slashed at anything other than a training dummy. Now you’re out here –with a very dysfunctional crew of lunatics— fighting mist monsters.

Said dysfunctional crew is, once again, arguing amongst themselves on which way you’re supposed to be headed next. Everyone’s got their own opinion and somehow it never matches with anyone else’s. You don’t even know how they manage that.

It takes a few light years for the majority to agree you’re heading to Bilgewater.

By the time you Wayfinder them there, you’re not surprised that all you see is darkness and sickly green mist. Half the world has gone to shit already and you’ve come to terms with that. More or less. Probably less.

“Wow.” you say as you take in the ghostly-looking town ahead of you and the armada of ships at the port below, blocking this side of the island off completely. Not that there’s a lot to block because the place is a ravaged hellhole anyway.

The environment has this wrecked, haunted vibe that would be super interesting to see in a movie with an apocalypse theme. Perhaps not so much on an actualapocalypse, though.

“Likin’ the view?” Graves asks, the corner of his lips sealed over his cigar.

“No, it was more of a ‘this is so much worse than I could have imagined’ type of wow.” you explain.

“It really is.” Riven agrees.

“Funny thing; the mist ain’t changed it all that much.” Graves laughs.

“Hey. Focus.” Lucian chastises. This guy, you’re convinced, is allergic to lightening the mood. He’s also not someone you dare say this to. “See that?” he points at the sea, to the massive ship there, towering over the rest.

You’re so focused on its fine craftsmanship and the little details you keep finding the longer your eye remains on it, you miss his point entirely, at first. Then you blink and look closer –at the thin, telltale trail of green-black smoke floating upwards from its deck.

There’s no mistaking it; a fetter is on that vessel.

“Now, listen up, everybody. Big Ol’ Graves is a legend around these parts, so my name will get us on that beauty. But. People here can be a bit… unfriendly towards new faces.” he begins. “Let’s not walk up there like an attack force and end up riddled with holes, ye?”

“Good idea.” you nod.

“Rookie, Graves, you’re heading up first.” Lucian motions with his chin.

“Bad idea.” you comment, but his skewering glare has you agreeing with the plan the same second.

“Signal if you need help.” Senna adds.

Graves only laughs heartily and grabs your uniform with his large hands, pulling you along. You know you won’t like what you hear when he leans down and whispers to you:

“We won’t have time to signal if they decide we’re not worth listening to but let’s not tell them that, Rook.”

“That’s… just what I needed to hear.” you grimace.

“Ha! Which means you’re goin’ up first. Chances are they won’t instantly shoot your pretty face off.”

“Wait… what about that ‘my name will get us up there, no trouble’?” you ask.

“Hah! That was just to impress Vayne, kiddo. My name is far more likely to get us killed in these parts.” he laughs but you don’t. “Did she look impressed?”

“No.” You shake your head. “No, she didn’t, mate.” Nothing has ever moved Vayne other than when she kills monsters in a particularly violent way.

“Ah, shit. Maybe next time.”

Yeah, if there is a next time.

Your chances aren’t looking good as soon as you step onto that deck and every weapon imaginable is suddenly shifted to you.

…

Graves tells you to put your ‘social skills’ into good use. You are not aware that was one of your talents, so it’s probably more of his bullshit. Either way, death by a thousand bullets gives you a solid motivation to turn the charm on and talk.

“Gentlemen, I’m sure we can all come to an agreement here. No need for all that firepower.” you say, totally not sweating at all underneath your white jacket. “You have something that we need and I’m sure we can negotiate a profitable deal for everyone.”

Jackpot. Bounty hunters want money more than anything. And there is not a sweeter sound to their ears than the promise of wealth. Even if you’re just talking nonsense to save your ass.

“If I could just speak to the captain—”

“The captain is listening.” a commanding voice says from up ahead. Some of the crew members part to let her through…

And.

You see a vision in this nightmare.

The woman that walks forward stands out like fire over water, like stark color on Bilgewater’s salt-washed palette. Maybe it’s the vivid red of her flowing hair, stark against the gold-trimmed black of her hat, or the emerald green of her eyes, or the way she holds herself, a queen on this deck. Whatever the reason, you cannot tear your gaze off of her.

Tongue-tied at the moment, you let Graves do the talking. Big mistake.

The goddess’ visage darkens when she sees your company, who she addresses in a less than pleasant tone: “Look what washed in with the tide. Malcolm Goddamn Graves.” You wouldn’t want that glare directed at you, ever.

“Fortune? Ah, hells, naw.” he curses. “What are ya doin’ here? How did ya get a whole damn fleet a’ warships?”

“A lot has changed since we last met. Fools around here decided to challenge me for control over Bilgewater. I locked this place down until we can resolve this inconvenience.” she says, like cutting off half the freaking island is not a big issue.

The sound of her heels on the wooden floor is downright ominous as she approaches. Her eye scans you lightning-quick, then the entirety of her attention is on Graves. The very next second…

A blunderbuss pistol is pointing right to your face, same as his.

“Whoah.” you gasp.

“What’s Gankplank paying you?!” she demands.

“I ain’t workin’ for that bastard! I ain’t even on speakin’ terms with his orange-eatin’ ass! Ya know that!”

“What I know is you came onto my deck with fancy new equipment and a whole team of mercenaries at your back. You know, just in case you thought you were being subtle, in all that silver and white sticking out in Bilgewater like a sore thumb.” She has a point. “That getup isn’t cheap and there’s only one cretin around here with that kind of coin. Now tell me what he’s planning, of you’ll be smoking that cigar through a new hole.”

“Um –ma’am? He’s telling the truth.” You almost regret speaking up when her piercing stare lands on you. “And we’re not mercenaries. We’re Sentinels of Light.” you add.

“You put on a convincing performance, cutie.” she says.

In any other scenario, a goddess like that calling you cute would make you blush. But the gun still very much in your face makes it difficult to really register the word.

“Like you’ve never heard of the ‘Saltwater Scourge’, ‘Reaver King of the High Seas’… ‘Scum-sucking Hagfish Who Takes All You Ever Cared About’…”

Oh, okay. So, she’s got a screw loose as well.Not surprising considering the company you attract, lately.

“Nope. Kiddo’s right, Sarah. They’re Sentinels, alright.” the very familiar voice of your boss, which normally doesn’t make you happy to hear, has the opposite effect now. Lucian walks up behind you to save the day.

“Lucian?” she asks, finally lowering her weapons. “…this is your crew?”

“Yep. And I’d appreciate it if you kindly refrained from killing them. Need about every gun we can get.” he replies.

“Follow me.” she says. “It seems we have a lot to discuss.”

…

Captain Fortune does not drive an easy bargain.

From what you hear later, she’s given Lucian a real hard time with negotiations. And even now, she’s the one who holds all the cards.

If you are to defeat Viego and make it clear to Bilgewater it was her who made it possible, she is willing to trade with the fetter and even let you stay on her ship in the meantime. Otherwise, if she gets the feeling it’s him who gains ground and holds the power in this place, you’re basically screwed.

The others are uneasy. They’ve suggested multiple times you steal the fetter from Fortune and dash for your lives after. Thing is, with how close she keeps that relic, that plan is looking impossible.

Which brings you to where you are right now, all the Sentinels and Miss Fortune gathered around the same map, planning your next action.

“Yes, but if I help you get there, what’s in it for me?” she asks.

And really, you don’t have anything to offer her in return. Even Lucian looks to Senna for help. Who, in turn, looks at you.

Why do they keep doing that? What have you done to convince these people you are good at talking? Especially to women like the captain.

“How about the… moral reward of helping save people from these monsters?” you suggest.

Her green eyes –and holy shit are they green— look at you like she wants to both scoff and laugh sardonically. “Tell me that is a joke.”

“It –it really isn’t.” you reply.

She huffs. “Look. I’m sure you’re all nice people. But nice people here get their throats cut.” She motions with her hand. “The cutthroats get the spoils. That’s how it works. I only care about the spoils.” she states. “So, if you want things from me and my crew, you need to make it worth our time.”

Their time sure isn’t cheap.

You know you don’t have anything at Headquarters with the kind of value she’s looking for. Definitely no coin and no gold for her services. But. You’ve heard multiple times during classes that the materials the Sentinel outfits are weaved from are extremely durable and therefore, extremely desirable.

“Would you and your crew be interested in a wardrobe overhaul?” you ask. All eyes are on you, but hers are the most intense. “Every prestigious fleet has to look the part, no? Plus, these clothes…” you say, grabbing the nearest knife and dragging it across your sleeve. The fabric is not so much as scratched. “…are pretty cool.” you tell her.

Miss Fortune leans back in her captain’s chair with a pretty smile painted on her –very attractive— lips.

“Now you’re talking my language, cutie. I’m sure we can work something out.”

…

On one hand, you have Gwen sewing day and night –your fault, you feel bad for it— while the rest of you handle the fighting. On the other, you do have a ship taking you wherever you need and making your job of clearing the darkness ten times faster.

Even Lucian has given you a pat on the back for that one. That was certainly unexpected.

“We need Fortune to take us here.” Senna points on the map. “Rookie, you go tell her.”

You almost choke on your water. “Why me?” you ask.

“Because you’re finally making yourself useful.” Lucian replies. Ouch.

“I’ve been very useful from the start!” you argue. The others look amongst themselves. “Hey!”

“I mean… points for effort.” Diana comments.

“Moral support is useful, I agree.” Riven smirks at you.

‘Asshole’ you mouth, rising from your seat. Her grin only widens.

You send them a narrowed, unimpressed look over your shoulder on your way out. Some of the crew members that see you walking towards the captain’s cabin whistle your way. You’re sure there’s tons of colorful comments behind your back but you have bigger things to worry about.

Like… the way a certain redhead looks leaned back in her plush chair, a queen on her throne, toying with a gold coin that flips over her nimble fingers with effortless ease. Focus on the mission. The mission, I say. Oh, Gods…

“I love how they send you in to ask for extra.” she says. “So. Are you the silver tongue of the group?” There’s something in her little smirk and the way she says ‘tongue’ that gets to you, but that’s probably just your vivid imagination.

That and the months you’ve spent without any outlet for your stress other than fighting, on top of more fighting.

“No, the others are just that terrible at basic social interactions.” It’s the truth.

Fortune gives a small chuckle. “Let’s see how good you are, then, Sentinel.”

You pleadwith your hopeless lesbian brain not to fry on the spot. “We sort of need you to get us further than discussed. While hoping that… the scenic route will be its own reward?”

“Cute.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” you perk up.

“No.”

“I’ll send Lucian here next time so he can bore you to death until you agree.” You never claimed to be above blackmail.

“A bold statement.” she replies. “Tell you what. If you demolish a few of my enemies’ ships during your hunt for the mist things, then deal.”

Sentinels aren’t supposed to do that. And if you tell Lucian, that will be his exact answer. You can already hear his unpleasant voice in your head. However, you’ve already figured out the world doesn’t work by the Sentinel Code, so…

“Accidents do happen on the battlefield.” you say.

Sarah gives you that slow smile that makes a certain part of you feel hot under your outfit. “And don’t bring any of the others in here to negotiate. I’d rather look at your pretty face.”

Uh.

Um.

By the time you exit the cabin, all you can think is, what just happened?

…

Combat is a rush, sometimes. As is knowing you’re getting stronger and faster by the day. You still don’t hold a candle to the rest of your group, but you can finally say you’re helping them out.

Being further up in the enemy’s face, though, is also petrifying. You see a twisted reflection of yourself in every mist wraith’s dead eyes. There are nightmares that come hand-in-hand with the experience… and then there’s physical pain.

You’ve been hurt before. Their talons can slice through even your magic-reinforced outfits. Still, every time feels worse than the last. The laceration you’re currently sporting on your side is burning like the fires of hell.

You’re trying not to scream by the time Riven lowers you onto the deck. Your vision is blurred with sweat and the tears you’re fighting to keep at bay.

“What’s going on here?” you hear Fortune’s voice in your haze.

“Tell me you have a healer on board!” Riven shouts.

“And they can get here fast!” Senna adds.

You’re not sure how much time passes. It feels like light years until someone kneels beside you and starts working on your wound. The healing magic pulls and sears at you. Every muscle in your body is taut with the effort to keep still.

“Isn’t …a healing spell supposed to numb the pain, first?” Diana asks.

“Look, blondie, I’m no professional here, ye? Just picked up a few things from mah old man. If ya wanna criticize, come here and do it yourself.” he answers. And it’s …not the best feeling in the world to hear your healer say that.

“No offense. Just worried for our teammate.” Senna adds. At least one of your bosses cares about your wellbeing.

The other just benches you for the next mission.

…

Out of all the people you expected to come see you while you’re recovering, Sarah Fortune is the last who came to mind. You’re almost shocked mute when the captain comes to sit on the edge of your bed, graceful and fluid as ever. Gorgeous as ever, too, while you’re sure you look pale as a ghost, eyes sunken as a shipwreck.

“Hey, Rookie.” she greets.

“Ah, great. That nickname’s never gonna come off, is it.” you roll your blue eyes.

“How’s the battle scar?”

“I’m not bleeding all over your fancy deck anymore, at least.” you say. “Guess I should be glad for that.” Although you are a bit frustrated that the ‘healer’s’ hand was so shaky there’s a scar left there now, permanently, when it could have been avoided. “And that the dude wasn’t drunk bad enough to stitch my organs to my skin.”

“Yeah, luckily he was only a little drunk.” she nods.

“That makes total sense for a healer. Who, from what I know from four years at the Academy, should always be sober.” you cannot keep it in any longer.

“That’s… a tall order here.” Yes, of course, the place is far too shitty for that.

“I gathered.”

“Come, now. Don’t be upset about the scar.” You’re upset about the pain that could have been avoided if the damn guy just didn’t drink his ass off in the middle of the day. “…Want me to kiss it better?”

You’re so far up your mind –filled with thoughts of being a dead weight on the team on top of your dead classmates because of Viego— you don’t even hear her. Your head is pounding from the pressure the memory causes you, a killer mix with the effect of the painkillers you’ve been on, all evening.

“I’ll be fine, thanks.” you reply, your voice hoarse and alien to your own ears.

…

You and Fortune talk a bit more on the two days you’re out of commission.

You learn a few things about her, like the fact you have a common interest in psychology. Like the fact you shouldn’t ever ask about her past or her family, unless you want her to close up tighter than a clam, at the speed of lightning. In the meantime, if it feels like she may be throwing more smirks your way than when she talks to anyone else, you blame that on your wishful thinking.

That woman is way out of your league.

It is one in the night and everyone on the ship is either well asleep or completely passed out from booze. You wake up from a nightmare, then fully register the way the ship is swaying from the angry waves. The resulting nausea has you completely losing the desire to fall back into the land of dreams.

You thought you’d be the only one awake when you walked up to the deck, yet you quickly realize that’s not the case when the sound of heels approaches from behind. You already know it’s her. The night breeze does a wonderful job of carrying her perfume straight to your nose. As if she wasn’t already fatally attractive without it.

You keep your eyes on the waves, so dark blue they look black.

“Oh, this is a surprise. Such a romantic soul, admiring the sea in the dead of night.” she says. The slight –sexy as fuck— slur to her words must have something to do with the bottle of whiskey in her hand.

“Yeah, my thoughts are not that deep.” you chuckle. “More like ‘fuck this constant motion under my feet’.”

She gives a small, airy exhale that could pass as a laugh, leaning on the railing next to you. Kind of close, too. “Ah and here I thought Sentinels didn’t swear.” she says. “And that they don’t drink. Unless you care to prove me wrong there, too.”

She takes a swing of the bottle and passes it to you. The smart part of your brain tells you it is a bad, bad idea. The rest of you is seduced by the promise of the buzz and the challenge in her eyes.

Well. Since you’re not really getting anywhere closer to where her lips are in anything other than your very private fantasies, you think may just take the chance for an indirect kiss that’s presented.

The gulp you take from the bottle –you intended a sip but the fucking ship moves so much— burns a trail down your throat and past your insides. You almost cough. How heavy is this thing?

“Ahem. So.” you begin. “What’s keeping you out late?”

“I have great company.” At first you think she means you, then you realize it’s the bottle that’s lucky. Hah, fell right into that one. “And… my cabin is very cold tonight.”

It’s really chilly, yeah, but it’s not that bad, you think. Maybe the two of you are just used to different climates, though. “I’m… sorry to hear that.” you reply.

“Well. Guess I should head in or it will never warm up by itself.” she says.

You nod and bid her goodnight, turning your eyes back to the inky waves. But then you feel her weight softly crash into your back, ample chest pressing against you, one of her hands on your waist and the other on the railing next to yours for support. Her lips are right by your ear, so close you feel them brush against the shell as she says:

“Oops.”

Then she’s gone, taking her extremely sexy perfume with her, while your stomach drops to the sea and sinks right to the very bottom. It takes a few moments to realize you’re still holding the railing so tightly your fingers have gone white.

What the…

You go back to bed trying not to think about whatever that was.

The next day, you have no idea why she’s not speaking to you at all, or why she doesn’t even look at you when she addresses the Sentinels, none-too-pleased with your progress.

…

When one of the crewmates tell you the captain has summoned you, you do a double take and ask if she really means you. Fortune has been in a weird mood towards you since that night, to say the least.

You are mentally braced for the worst when you enter her cabin. You’re already tired from fighting mist wraiths all morning and you don’t think you can handle whatever it is that’s going on with her at the moment.

Scratch that. You’re sure you can’t when she gets up from her seat, walking almost in a circle around you, like a shark. You lean back against the wooden surface of her desk, waiting. Cautious.

“Have I not been clear enough, all these days?” she asks, as if wondering out loud.

“Um…. excuse me?” you question back. Has the mist gotten to her? It has been known to cause strange behavior after prolonged exposure.

She’s at the door now, facing you without really looking at you and it makes you feel trapped. Your one escape is blocked. “You’re not from around here, so I thought it was best not to be… Bilgewater-forward.” she says. “On the other hand, I don’t think I’ve been that subtle?”

“…I’m. I’m not…sure I follow.” you speak, quietly.

“Do you really have no idea or are you just trying to be polite?” She finally looks into your eyes.

You shake your head ‘no’.

She licks her lips. “What, was I supposed to give you a formal letter inviting you to my cabin for sex the other night?” Your jaw, you think, hits the floor and shatters. Your whole body shivers and goes rigid. “If you don’t want to, just say it so I won’t wait around for nothing.”

You… don’t know what words are at the moment. The ground has disappeared and you’re a falling mess. It is the worst case of freezing on the spot you’ve ever experienced.

“That’s not… that’s not… the case.” you manage to say.

“Good to know.” she nods, casually, then strides up to you and grabs the front of your high-collared Sentinel jacket, bringing you lip-to-lip. “Is this clear enough for you?” she breathes against you.

It’s more than clear enough when her plump lips seal over yours, tasting of sweet-flavored lipstick and alcohol and sea-salt. In fact, it is clear like a nuclear bomb going off on the back of your head.

The heat wave burns down your stomach violently and it only gets worse when she pushes her tongue into your mouth, licking over yours, her hips practically straddling you with how tightly fitted you stand. Every movement of her mouth or her body echoes all the way down yours.

It’s beyond anything you could have ever conjured in your head, having her angle your chin however she wants it while her hips slowly rock against you. It’s almost too hard and too fast and too good –and you get too close.

But then—

A knock comes on the door.

“Captain?” someone asks from the outside and it’s both a blessing and a dark curse.

Sarah tries to catch her breath, every exhale tickling your ear. “One moment.” she calls over her shoulder, sounding every bit the captain she is, as if the past minutes where you were literally dry humping each other didn’t happen.

She pulls back from you with a satisfied little smirk at how wrecked you no doubt look, pulling your outfit straight. Her thumb wipes off the smudge of her lipstick on the corner of your mouth, then she goes to a nearby mirror to reapply hers.

When she walks back over to you, your knees shake at just the sight of her. You don’t know how you’ll ever calm down from this. Safe to say she’s ruined every kiss you’ve ever had or will have.

“My bedroom will be open to you tonight. Consider this your formal letter, yes?” her long fingers brush over your jawline, as she stalks back to her seat.

“Come in.” she calls, poker face on, sounding bored.

You make your escape as tactical –and dignified— as possible and don’t look back until you’re practically off the ship.

…

To say you are distracted for the rest of the hours until night completely settles over Bilgewater is an understatement. Your head is in the clouds and you have no idea what’s going on around you. The whole world could catch fire and all you’ll be thinking about is Fortune, Fortune, Fortune…

“What’s got you so quiet tonight, little Sentinel?” Riven asks.

Only the best damn kiss of your entire life. Plus the fact you’re living a dream and you don’t want to wake up. “Maybe I’m just trying to imitate Vayne. From now on you’ll hear my voice only when we kill stuff.”

“Ha, ha.” Vayne comments in typical Vayne style from her seat, hunched over her weapon and making calibrations.

“All I’ll say is, be careful.” the Noxian lowers her voice a bit, the words kept between the two of you.

“Of what?” you play dumb.

“Just in general.”

You don’t know what Riven suspects but you can’t really bring yourself to care. You’ve been through a lot these past months. You deserve to feel something good once in a while. Your love life is none of their business unless it interferes with their business, which it won’t because you’re sure this won’t mean anything beyond Fortune’s bedroom.

You wait until everyone on the ship is asleep and take a liquid courage boost to sneak to the captain’s cabin.

…

One knock. That is all your knuckles manage, one contact with the door, until it swings open and a familiar hand grabs at the front of your outfit, pulling you in.

You’re pressed back against it as soon as it shuts, crimson lips hot on yours before you can even think to say anything. Gods, is she always so insistent?You could melt into a wet puddle on the floor from the way she presses into you alone. This woman knows exactly what she wants and how to take it.

Somewhere in the back of your head you hear the sound of a lock turning.

“Took you long enough.” she whispers when you break apart.

Once again, whatever you were about to say is cut off by her tugging on the high collar of your jacket. She either has a thing for it or for pulling you around in general, you think. No complains, whatever the case.

“Won’t you give me the tour around, first?” you ask, playing coy only thanks to the drink you’ve had. Otherwise, you’d be your usual self; a mess.

“Oh, sure.” she says as she shoves you into her bedroom, illuminated by a single candle. “Wardrobe, guns, bed.”

Well. It still feels like the best tour you’ve ever had when she walks you back until you’re falling on her very comfortable mattress, with her perched above you like a predator. She gives you a little smirk as she straddles your thigh and sits up, undoing the taut buttons on her shirt, painfully slow.

Oh… It would be very awkward if you died from a heart attack now, yet it feels like you’re on the verge of one.

“Nothing smart to say now, Sentinel?” The confidence comes with her looks, you’re sure. She knows she’s hot as fuck.

You shake your head, speechless, eyes travelling from her toned midriff to her perfect chest, to her hypnotic eyes and the sensual way her hair spills like a red waterfall across her shoulders. This is a dream, it’s not real life, but don’t wake me up ever…

Fortune leans back down, taking your chin in two fingers as she studies your flushed face. You don’t know what she’s looking for, but something in her visage softens a fraction.

“If it’s too much at any point, tell me.”

“If I can talk, I will.” you say, mesmerized by the way her eyes look under the dim light.

Your next liplock is a little less rushed than your previous ones. She takes her time exploring your mouth and you gradually get bolder with where you touch her, fingers grazing up her sides to her stomach, to the underside of her bra.

Her lips leave yours only to burn a trail down the corner of your mouth, across your jawline and to your neck. Deft fingers undo the clasps and pull down the zipper of your white jacket, guiding it past your shoulders without taking it completely off. She definitely has a thing for it. You’d comment on that, too, if you could think about anything other than how good she smells.

Clothes come off while she sucks on your neck, teeth pressing against you just shy of leaving marks. When both of you are down to your underwear and breathing heavy, her fingers caressing dangerously low on your waistline, her lips come near your ear.

“So… I want to make you beg, but I can’t help but feel like I’m already corrupting you a lot.”

Corrupt away. you want to tell her.

“Does that turn you on?” you whisper in her ear and feel her response with how her hips press down harder onto yours.

“Yes.” That breathless admission becomes your undoing.

You get lost in her lips after it and the sensation of her fingers on you –inyou— working you up towards what could be simultaneously your ruin and your salvation. You touch her in turn, filling the room with both your moans and gasps, until that glorious peak of white-hot pleasure where the whole world comes to a stop for a few moments.

There is a time limit to your time together, now and generally, you are aware. But you allow yourselves a few quiet moments together as you lay there with the excuse of catching your breath, even if you already have.

Tough game you’re playing here. The smarter part of your brain says. It’s all too easy to get addicted to having her atop you like this. The better the dream, the more bitter the wakeup.

When Fortune lifts herself off you to slide under her heavy covers, you register the chill of night. You dress almost sluggishly, your body so very exhausted from the activities of the whole day.

Kissing her goodnight is almost an urge you fight under control, not wanting to make her uncomfortable if this was all she wanted out of your dalliance.

“Well, my bunk is calling.” you turn around to tell her, trying not to blush when you see her with her elbow resting on her pillow, cheek cutely pressed on her fist, watching you like a languid cat.

“Hate to watch you leave but I love to watch you go.” she smirks at you.

You roll your eyes. “Goodnight, beautiful.”

…

It is after a long damn day of fighting that you get to finally sit down and enjoy a meal and drinks.

The crew was cold and distrustful towards you at first, but they seem to have opened up more over the course of weeks –especially today, after you secured them a chest filled with gold coins left behind by wealthy people who were running from the wraiths. From the corner of your eye, you subtly watch Sarah Fortune interact with her men, hoping it’s not obvious how badly into her you are.

“So…” Riven begins from the chair next to you and you know that’s not going to be good.

“What?” You face her, playing cool.

“I’m sure you don’t need me to say that she’s bad for you… but I will, anyway.” You give Riven a blank stare that absolutely doesn’t fool her. Shit.

“Like how do you even know.” You finally break.

“It wasn’t obvious since day one there was something there?” Yeah, maybe to everyone except you.

“Wait.” Hold on a second. “Does everyone know?”

“I think everyone except Diana has pretty much figured it out.” That certainly explains the looks Lucian has been giving you all day. Double shit.

“What? The thing between Fortune and Rookie, here?” Diana asks from behind you.

Triple—

“Scratch that. Everyone knows.” Riven tells you. “And we all agree. She’s bad for you.” You hate the emphasis on that. “As in the worst.”

“I getit, Riven, thank you.” You shake your hand in her face while the other covers yours.

“I mean I know ruthless, player redheads who can and will absolutely murder you without a second thought are, like, a kink of yours—”

You don’t think your face gets any redder than this. “What—” you nearly choke on air. “That –how do you figure that out? That’s not even true.”

“Dude. When Katarina Du Couteau was brought into our conversation you nearly gasped and fangirled for the next hour.”

“I just heard a lot about one of our biggest Demacian enemies and wanted to know if it was all true!” you defend yourself.

“You asked me if she’s as hot as rumor has it, not about her war achievements.” Riven laughs.

“And you didn’t answer! Well, is she or isn’t she?” you ask. For… scientific purposes.

“I’m not going to answer that!” Riven lifts her hands up.

“She is.” Graves says as he slides into the seat next to you, drink in hand.

“Thank you!” You pat him on the shoulder.

“We should totally have her join the Sentinels.” he adds.

“Hah!” A vein pops at Riven’s temple. “And the answer will be something along the lines of ‘bold of you to assume I give a single fuck about the world’.” comes the imitation.

“Whoa, that’s exactly how she sounds like.” Graves says.

You’re glad the conversation has shifted away from you, at least.

From the opposite side of the room, you feel a familiar pair of eyes on you, yet they’re averted the second you raise yours to meet them.

…

They may know about your one-time thing with Fortune and heavily scrutinize it, but they still send you in now that they need to ask for more from the captain. With that, your teammates lose every right to comment on what you do and don’t do with her.

“We’ll get you the coin from that ship –well, Graves will, since they already hate him—and you help us out here. Deal?” you ask her.

There. You can be a professional and negotiate terms with the most beautiful woman in the world, who you also happened to have had mindblowing sex with, without constantly looking at her lips.

“Deal, but…” she begins. “You’re sitting all the way over there… why?”

So much for keeping your mind out of the gutter. “Um.” You lick your lips, unsure of what to say, while she smirks slow, like the cat that got the canary.

“Come here.” A pat on her desk, right in front of her chair.

Against your better judgement, you walk around the furniture and lean there, really, really close to her, especially when she stands, towering over you in her heels. You can tell she likes it, too.

“Don’t look at me like that, we leave in ten minutes.” you say. It doesn’t even phase her.

Her fingers move to the zipper of your jacket and although you should stop her, you don’t. “Really?” she leans closer, closer still, until her tantalizing mouth is a hair’s breadth from yours.

“…really. Nine, now.” you waver.

“Guess we have to be fast, then.”

She lightly pushes you onto her desk and starts undoing your belt buckles. The thought of what you’re about to do alone could make you come on the spot. It’s not just the thought that’s threatening to do that, when you feel her cool fingers slide right where you need them.

“You’re going to ditch me for your little Sentinel friends, who don’t like me?” she asks in your ear.

Oh, Gods…

“Ah, I like you enough for all of us, Fortune.” your lips move against her jawline as you speak. A little further down and you can feel how quick her pulse is. You wouldn’t have guessed, with how composed she looks fingering you on her desk.

“Sarah.” she holds your chin with two fingers as she says it, like a secret between you. “Call me Sarah when you come.”

You do.

…

It becomes a nightly thing after that, your visits in her bedroom.

She’s insatiable and she makes everything bothering you go away for those precious hours. But. The more you see of her, you cannot help but feel like something’s very wrong with Sarah.

Underneath the visage of the ruthless captain, the queen who can just reach out and take anything she wants, you see… cracks. She doesn’t sleep well. She drinks. You’re pretty sure you’re another distraction –coping mechanism?— although it doesn’t bother you. She’s the same for you, isn’t she?

It’s not like you have feelings for her.

…Right?

No, no that would be terrible. You definitely don’t. You are allowed to love the way her fingers are running lazy circles on your thigh right now without any sort of complicated emotions involved.

“You should quit while you’re ahead.” she tells you, half muffled into her pillow, stark black against the red of her hair.

This or the Sentinel war? You wonder.

“You have little cuts everywhere. They don’t even have time to disappear before new ones open on top of them.” she moves the back of her pointer to the biggest visible line near your knee, then up your arm, until her hand rests on the crook of your neck. “Leave the others to deal with the mist. It’s not your problem.”

“The world’s problem is my problem. Guess where I lived and what region fell to Viego first.”

You refrain from telling her how many people close to you met his blade before that. How many of the classmates you ate and trained with for four years you had to see skewered by him, on his insane quest for his ‘love’. You don’t want to sour your time together with your burdens. Your pain, your nightmares, are your own to deal with.

“If you keep going you’ll fall to him first.” she counters. “You’ll die protecting one of those idiots in your group or some random civilian.”

“Thanks, Miss Fortune-teller.” you say, a tad irked at her blatant disregard for anyone who isn’t herself.

“I don’t have to be one to tell.” she gives you a sad smile. “It’s always the good ones that die. It’s always the monsters that win.”

You can’t help but wonder…

What made you this way?

…

You see now why emotions are considered a distraction on the battlefield. Even as you kill monsters, all you think about is her.

Come to think of it…

You’ve never seen her smile for real. What you’re looking for is a far cry from those smirks she throws around to bring people to their knees, or the sardonic ones she levels Lucian with. Even those she offers you behind closed doors have a shadow underneath them. It makes you wonder about what would make her happy enough to give a genuine smile.

When you happen across a shipwreck filled with valuables, you think this may be it. The Sentinels take what they need and agree to give the rest to Fortune to stay on her good graces.

Her whole ship lights up with the joy of riches. The crew is ecstatic. Laughter and cheers fill the deck.

And yet.

Her glee is pretend, just for the sake of her men. Her eyes are hollow.

When she eventually retreats to her cabin, you follow her and knock on her door. “It’s always open for you~” she calls from the inside, already in the company of a whiskey bottle.

You turn the key behind you, then lean forward with your hands on her desk, staring at her.

“Why this serious, sexy?” she asks. “Need me to help loosen you up a bit?”

“You need to part with the fetter, Sarah.” you state. “It affects you in ways you won’t notice or understand but it always does.”

“Ah, part with it so you and your crew of misfits can steal it from me? Hmm… no.” she chuckles.

“I care more about what it does to you than the fetter itself right now.” you try again. Only to fail again.

“That’s sweet, but I don’t trust you.” Talk about words being sharper than knives, sometimes. “Don’t take it personally; I don’t trust anyone.”

“What a joyful life this must be.” you bite back.

“Coin is joy for me, sweetheart.” she leans back in her plush chair, taking another swing from the bottle.

“You didn’t seem very happy to me, back there.”

She gives you a look and finally sets the whiskey down. “Come here. I’ll tell you a little secret about me.” she says, a tad more serious than before.

Cautiously, you step around the desk until you’re in front of her seat. Her hand shoots up like a bullet, then, taking hold of your jacket and dragging you down until the two of you are eye-level.

“You know what would really make me happy right now?” You feel her leg move up the inside of yours, deliciously slow, as she speaks… until she hooks her calf behind your knee and makes your weight fall onto it. “For you to shut up about fetters and concerns and go down on me.”

Fuck.

Deep down, to a small part of you not ruled by your hormones, you know using sex to avoid any sort of deeper conversation between you is unhealthy. You know an arrangement where there’s no trust is unhealthy.

Then again, the circumstances that brought you together are anything but healthy.

And what sort of pretty flower can burst forth, really, from a corrupted seed?

…

When you return from your mist-slaying, late in the evening, the crew is uneasy.

“Don’t bother the cap’n right now.” One of the men says. “She ain’t havin’ the best o’ days.”

You later find out that they had a run-in with an enemy fleet. That the Reaver King has resurfaced and is looking to claim Bilgewater for himself. Major shit is about to go down, the bounty hunters tell you and you do not want to be outsiders caught in the middle when it finally hits the fan.

You give Sarah her space until the need to check up on her becomes overwhelming.

One knock on the door. “Leave.” she hisses from within the office like a tensed cat. Another knock. “You have ten seconds before I put a bullet through your skull!”

“Can’t imagine I’ll be very attractive then.” you reply.

The door swings open; her eyes are the epitome of a raging storm. You’ve never seen her like this, so hateful and distressed… and it hurts to witness. “My ‘leave’ applies to everyone. You, included.”

“Cool.” you nod at her. Pause. “So… can I come in now?”

Sarah throws her hands up in exasperation, pivoting with an angry, whispered ‘whatever’. She paces across her cabin, an agitated lion one step away from pouncing. Her hands run through her fiery hair as though they cannot keep still.

“You need to leave Bilgewater asap and never come back.” You don’t know if she’s talking to you or thinking out loud. “You need to go. With or without the rest of them, I don’t care, just go!”

“What’s… gotten into you?” you dare ask.

“He’s back. He always comes back, no matter how many times I sink the bastard. It’s like he cannot die. He just won’t die!” her voice is raw with her rage. “You Sentinels fight the darkness but you don’t kill evil. Evil will still be here –rooted here— even if you win.”

You open your mouth but can’t find anything to say.

“I have to win my own war. I will be victorious no matter the cost, no matter the bloodshed.” Sarah goes on. “But I need to know that you won’t be here. Do you understand?!”

You just look at her, sad and frozen, trying to understand. There’s nothing you can say to ease what’s hurting her and nothing you can do. You’ve seen this wretched thing eat away at her every day since the moment you met. It’s too deeply engraved in her heart for you to hope to change it; and it has little to do with the fetter in her possession.

Sarah crosses the room in two large strides and grabs your biceps. She looks like she’s ready to throw you off her ship herself…

Until.

She pulls you into her arms, instead.

Tight, like she’s afraid you’ll be gone the moment she lets go, she holds you close. Her head is tucked into your shoulder, her nails press hard into your back. You slowly bring your hands up to encircle her waist in return.

“I’ve lost everything. He took everything from me. I won’t give him the chance to take you away, as well.” she says.

Oh. you think. She cares about you, after all.

If only that was a good thing for either of you.

…

You feel it, when the moment comes.

Maybe you’ve always felt it and just didn’t want to admit it.

When Sarah stands in front of Viego offering the lot of you up along with the fetter in exchange for his ruined power, you know the agony you feel, like a blade splitting you down the middle, is your own doing. There is nobody but yourself to blame for it. The others warned you. Your own instinct warned you.

You didn’t listen.

You wanted to trust her. Maybe even to love her.

But her hatred runs deeper than whatever measly thing you were to her.

As the mist shrouds Fortune and turns her red hair luminescent blonde, as it eats away at her colors until they’re all black and sickly green, until the eyes you knew turn cold and unfeeling, you feel something in you crack. Maybe it’s your faith. Maybe it’s your heart.

There’s a lesson to take from this, you’re sure, despite how your emotions choke you. Right now, though, you focus on avoiding her bullets and having your teammates’ backs in the rain of chaos that follows.

You end up deep in the water, bleeding, defeated. You and the other Sentinels have never been crushed by your losses, but it will take some time to pick up your pieces and continue onward until the end of your war.

You allow yourself one scream muffled in the dark sea.

When you swim to the shore and pull your body out of the mud, you are silent.

“Are you okay? I know that was harder for you than it was for us.” Riven lays a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’ll let it hurt after we get Viego.”

For now, you can’t afford taking the pain of a broken heart with you on the battlefield.

Sarah. You later think. Now I understand why hurricanes are named after people.

#miss fortune #sarah fortune #miss fortune x oc #miss fortune x reader #sentinels of light spoilers #league of legends #fanfiction #creative writing #riven

72 notes · View notes