#and felt the empty impact of a closed chapter of that story

[autisticlee]

I have this problem where my brain thinks if someone is nice to me enough times and I put in enough effort, that means we are friends and I can talk to them in a friendly way, like joking around, asking questions to get to know them more, offering things friends would, etc, but then I always get severely disappointed when they don't reciprocate or have a bad reaction to it. it always punches me in the gut and is so upsetting and disheartening. I could try for many months to be friends, thinking it's mutual, and think we reached that point, but then they tear it all down with one sentence.

it always feels so bad to know I have to walk on a thin rope while interacting with people because I am incapable of reading their intentions and feelings. I never know how someone feels about me or how they see me. I never know where I stand with them.

people don't make it a habit to let you know they consider you a friend, and they always find it weird and inappropriate when you ask them. if you can't read people like me, you're stuck always wondering, always guessing, always incorrect. you can accidentally offend someome who considered you friends for years because they never explicitly told you until you make the wrong comment. or you can creep someome out by acting too friendly after months or even years of assuming you were good friends.

when you always have to walk on eggshells, never knowing the truths, never being able to read people, not being able to ask, and never getting answers you need.....it just leads to living life as if you are alone in a fish bowl, watching everyone around you, but never quite able to reach them through the glass....it's never fun to constantly be knocking on that glass, waiting for the eventual break that will shatter your world into pieces and cut you deep. even if it's just a crack, you have to spend a lot of time repairing it, alone.

they say you don't have to worry about these things if you find the right fish to swim with. find the "the right people." they say it's easy and you walk on solid, safe ground, rather than tread endlessly in the water until you sink and drown... "there's plenty of fish in the sea" perhaps. but what if you're the only fish in the bowl? what if you can't taste the salty sea? what if all you can do is watch through the glass as everyone passes you by with barely a glance? what if you dont find your school to swim with? how do you accept and prepare for that? in a world of possibilities, that is always a possible outcome. it's natural to fear or ponder such an outcome. no one wants to admit that it can happen. and no one seems to have the answers for how to swim on alone in that bowl, always yearning to swim with other fish in the sea.....how does a fish be content in a small bowl alone, even if the sea is more than just a dream?

[fangirl-dot-com]

Fernando Alonso - I Love My Grandpa

Wow it feels like this series is flying! After this chapter, we only have two more to go. Like – that’s crazy to me, never would have thought that one simple story idea would lead to something like a multichapter work with spin offs and extras! This one might be a little bit shorter so I apologize! I’m honestly just trying to get back onto the next chapters! 

All of you readers have helped me get to where we are with this entire work and I promise to be a good author! 

[TAG LIST IS CLOSED]

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, reblogs, and likes are appreciated! Much love <3 

You sighed as you walked around the paddock. Bored out of your ever-loving mind. Max was off in some meeting, Charles was hidden in the Ferrari garage (one you hadn’t found out how to infiltrate, the Italians are menaces to societies), Lando and Oscar are late, Alex decided to go off with Lily and NOT invite you, and Logan was sleeping. Which, in hindsight, was probably what you needed to be doing, but you were restless. 

You’d been out of the car for one of the small breaks and were just itching to get back into driver. But no. 

You were stuck in the paddock. 

Alone. 

You thought about bothering Mitch, but like most adults, she was working for the race this coming weekend. Boo-hoo. You knew that Christian could give you something to do, but that would mean an old lady job like filing. Or honestly, it wouldn’t but you didn’t want to give Christian any ideas. 

Now, you were stuck, scrolling through one of your multiple social media apps, on the hospitality roof. Your headphones were on, blocking out the world. You swiped out of Instagram and clicked on TikTok. 

Maybe you should have bothered the social media personnel. They seemed to always look for drivers to make new videos. You quickly stood up. If they wouldn’t find you, you would do it yourself. Glancing over the railing, your eyes danced along the grid. Who could you approach and force to make a TikTok with? 

Your eyes widened at the sight of the emerald green that flashed below. A smirk grew on your face as you quickly left the roof to go down to the pitlane. Once out in the sun, you made your way over the garage. 

You knew better than Max to wear the Red Bull clothing on days that it was not needed. So you blended in, kind of. You glanced around for the one driver that you knew would make a video with you. He wasn’t named “public figure of the year” for nothing. Even though it was only for Spain, it still counted. 

You walked up to a group of mechanics, suddenly feeling confident. 

“Do you know where I could find Fernando?” your voice echoed through the empty garage. They suddenly stopped what they were doing and looked at you. You felt small under their gaze, but held eye contact. 

One of them sweetly smiled and said that Fernando should be watering plants around the pit. You quickly thanked him and left the garage, a tight grip on your phone. You would get this video and be TikTok famous. 

Your only goal in life. 

You snorted at your thought. That was definitely not your goal in life, but it was one of them. Looking for the Spaniard was harder than you thought. You thought you had gone to every single garage on the planet, and he was nowhere to be found. 

At one point, you ran into several of the other drivers. And when you say ran into, it was quite literally. It wasn’t your fault that Max decided to step in front of you when you were speed walking past Red Bull. 

The impact was more than you thought, as you found yourself on the hot asphalt. You gazed up at the Dutchman, sun getting into your eyes. You pulled yourself up and stood next to him. Max still looked as though he was recovering from your hit. 

Before he could say anything though, you blurted out, “Have you seen Fernando?” 

Max had a bewildered look on his face. Why would you be looking for Fernando? From behind you, Charles suddenly appeared, eating what you think were some sort of chips. 

Right, Max never went anywhere without Charles and Charles never went anywhere without Max. Maybe for secret Santa, you’d get them one of those giant shirts for them to wear. 

Through his bites, Charles managed to get out, “I saw him earlier at hospitality.” 

You clapped him on the shoulders. “Good man. Thank you.” You quickly reached into his bag of snack, grabbed whatever your fingers could feel, and dashed away, stuffing your face. 

The Monégasque and Dutchman just stared as you bolted from the both of them. 

“What was that?” Max asked, as Charles looked down at his bag with whine.  

“She took the last of my snack.” 

Max shook his head. “Come on. We’ll get you more snacks. Red Bull doesn’t go over cost cap on catering for nothing!” 

The two drivers disappeared, leaving the various employees questioning what they just witnessed. 

As for you, you were still on your journey. You climbed the stairs once again, putting yourself right back where you started. And low and behold. 

There he was. In all his glory. 

Watering the plants?  

He must have sensed your presences, or heard you gasping for air since you took the stairs. But you wouldn’t talk about that. 

He sent you a welcoming smile and beckoned you over. You gingerly stepped closer to the plant that he was showering. You cocked your head, not knowing what else you were supposed to do. Your eyes were wide as you looked at the nice flowers that had bloomed. You decided to talk first. 

“Do you water all of the plants?” 

A deep chuckle escaped Fernando’s lips. He had watched you look with a puzzled face. 

“Not all of them. Just the ones that look like they need something extra,” he gave you a wink before turning back to his task. You took this moment to look around. At the opposite edge of the roof, there was a smaller plant that looked as if it had seen better days. 

You grabbed one of the water bottles that Fernando had near him and opened it as you cracked the seal. You carefully poured the water over the small plant. Watching, you noticed how the dirt seemed to just drink it up. 

This was actually pretty nice: having to share a quiet space with someone. You made your way over to a few more plants before walking back over. It seemed as though Fernando was done as well. 

You went to speak, but was interrupted with a growl from your stomach. Quickly looking at your phone, the time shocked you as it was already past lunch. Fernando quietly laughed. 

“Lunch?” 

You grinned widely at the suggestion. The two of you made your way down to the hospitality cafeteria. It was pretty empty, since the lunch hour had passed for multiple people. You walked up to the line, ordered, grabbed your food, and found a nice table near the back by a window. It reminded you of the first lunch you had with Mitch. 

Fernando sat across from you. You liked his energy. 

“So,” he spoke first, “I heard from one of my mechanics that you were looking for me?” He raised his eyebrow. 

Your cheeks flushed as you bit into your sandwich. You quickly swallowed to answer. “Uh, I was bored and I wanted to make a TikTok. But everyone was busy, so I thought I’d try to find you.” Your shoulders raised in a shrug. 

You found yourself doing that quite a bit. 

The Spaniard looked at you. “You couldn’t find someone younger? I’m just wondering why you’d come to me first?” 

“Well, uh, there were some mechanics not working, but I really judge people of how I feel around them. They kind of gave off a busy vibe that I didn’t like. But you have more of a calm, grandpa kind of vibe.” You sipped your water. “I mean, if you thought that your career in Formula 1 being longer than Oscar has been alive, it’s worse with me. You’re 24 years older than me.” 

Fernando looked like his body took a screen shot. 

You quickly put out your arms, trying to console the driver. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way. It’s nice to have someone who’s older. I really looked up to you as a kid, and I still do.” You twisted your fingers nervously and Fernando could see that. 

“It’s not an issue niña. I’m honored to have someone like you that looks up to me. But let’s maybe not talk about the ages.” You giggled quietly as his scrunched face.  

“It’s kind of hard not to think about it when everyone calls me kid,” your face also scrunched, same as Fernando. “I’m glad that Oscar and Logan don’t do that, but even Lando has started.” You pretended to cry. “He’s only 3 years older.” Your head hit the table.  

He kind of just watched you go through the five stages of grief. If there was one thing he knew about kids, it was to just let them go through the motions. Your head quickly shot up as you took inhaled.  “Can we make a TikTok now?”  

A small laugh left his lips. “Sure, we can. Did you have an idea?”  

Your hands reached for your phone, unlocking it quickly.  “Uh, I had a couple of ideas, but, I think one would be really funny. I’ve been seeing some comments about how you act like our grandpa sometimes, so this audio would be funny, even if it says dad.”  

You played the video, the voice filling the space around you. “I get it you’re all fatherless…I’m not, I love my dad.”  Fernando let out a chuckle as your eyes lit up at the funny sound.  

You continued, “I’d just put words over it so that it would say ‘grandfatherless’ instead.”  

“Sounds like a good plan.”  

The two of you left the cafeteria to film the segments of the video. Because of time change and wherever you were in the world, it got a bit dark while you were eating. You carefully filmed your part a couple of times before it was deemed acceptable. You guessed that Fernando had done a lot of these because he was basically a pro.

You captioned it “Honorary Gramps” and posted it with Fernando’s approval.  

Before you knew it, Max had come to get you.  

You went to leave, before turning around and jumping to give Fernando a hug. “Thanks Grandpa-Nando.”  

You stepped back to walk away with Max, who had a smirk on his face. He called back to the older man.  

“Does this mean we get to call you that?” Max bit back a laugh.

 Fernando shook his head. “Absolutely not.”  

You whacked Max on the shoulder, “Hey, that’s only reserved for Red Bull’s golden child.”  

Max had a weird look on his face. “I thought that was me?”  

You shook your head before walking past him. “You have so much to learn Maxy. Let’s go find Christian.”

Tag List : @awekbachira @lightdragonrayne @leilanixx @angsthology @topguncultleader @landosgirlxoxo @gods-menace @itsjustkhaos @thefandomswhre @alwaysboredsworld @vellicora @bintuabbas @sam-is-lost @empress-kimiko @assholeinatrenchcoat @kagatinkita @glitterquadricorn @zyonsay @tsukishimawhore @ashy-kit @agent-curt-mega @julesbabey @lydialawrence @stopeatread @claudia5912 @nichmeddar @blueberry64857959 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @leptitlu @alessioayla @badassturtle13 @kaaale @wcnorris @cool-ultra-nerd @hockeyboysarehot @agent-curt-mega @myxticmoon @cmleitora @sam-is-lost @misartymis @boiohboii @alexander-hamilhoe @jayda12 @indesicivelyconfuzzled @fangirl125reader @itscrzy @xcharlottemikaelsonx @fionaschicken @torchbearerkyle @ineedafictionalman @loaksmuntxa @classiclitfreak @sarcasm-ismy-onlydefense @luisie @jayda12 @comfortzonequeen @taylor-will-be-the-death-of-me @inejghafawifesblog

[kindasleepywriter]

Public Displays of Affection - Azriel x Reader

Chapter summary: This is a Christmas themed oneshot of a series I'm working on (Bird of Prey masterlist), but it can be read as a standalone! It's set a few years after the end of the series, but it doesn't spoil the main story.

Warnings: None! Just a lot of fluff

Word count: 850.

Sidenote: Accidentally posted this on my personal blog at first! this is the re-upload on the right account <3

Winter Solstice was rapidly approaching. If the bite of frost in the air didn’t remind you of the fact, the extravagant amount of decoration in the House of Wind did. They’d started appearing a few weeks ago and now covered most surfaces, admittedly bringing you more joy than you let on every time you went to the library to pick up a new book. Solstice felt bittersweet to you, but you let yourself enjoy the parts you could.

You watched Azriel as you leaned in the door frame of the sitting room as he helped Feyre and Nyx make what looked to be garlands, although the latter’s work might be considered an abstract representation of one. You smiled gently as the ease with which he laughed with the others. You were glad he’d become more confident alongside you.

He glanced up, as if reading your thoughts. Your heart skipped a beat at the wide smile he gave you, still so affected at the sight of him, despite the years. He always could manage to get your heart racing from the most innocent of gestures. When you thought back, you could see it clear as day: he was always the one you were meant to be with from the first day, despite what you felt then. No one had managed to break through the walls that had numbed you to the world except for him, even if it had initially been through confrontations of anger.  

Azriel whispered a few words to Nyx, the young boy giggling at his words and rushing to his mother’s side, before walking over to your side, circling around you so he held your back against his chest. He swayed slowly with you to the soft beat of the music surrounding you both.

“Penny for your thought?” he whispered, soft breath tickling the skin behind your ear.

“I don’t think you can afford all of them right now, Az,” you chuckled, turning your face to his and raising a hand to brush a wisp of hair straying on his forehead. “But I’ll give you one for free if you want.”

He hummed, eyes fixed on yours and his hands rubbing slow circles against your hips. “I’d empty Rhys’ entire vault for you, love, don’t tempt me to do so,” he said. You laughed, turning to put your hands around his neck, his hands finding their way around you and flattening against your shirt in the sensitive spot between your wings. You sighed in contentment, a shiver running down your spine. “But I’ll happily take what you’ll give me.” he continued quietly.

“I’m thinking that I never truly thanked you for sticking by me through it all.” You kissed him softly, pulling your head back with a chuckle as he tried to follow. “I couldn’t have hoped for someone more perfect than you.”

You felt his grin against your lips, smiling back at you. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to yours. “And I’ve been the luckiest in Prythian to see you shine, my love.”

You went to speak again, but your words were interrupted by the sound of something whizzing through the air, but no sound of impact came, only a smacking sound across the room and an undignified squeak. Azriel did not move from his position, arms tightening, but rolled his eyes and raised his voice. “Cass, if you don’t put down that second wreath you’re holding, I won’t hesitate to tell Nesta what you got her for Solstice this instant.”

A feminine laugh rang across the room.

“You guys are no fun together.” Cassian muttered, more laughs ringing from the others around you. Your cheeks reddened and tension ran through you, not unnoticed by Azriel. “Want to get out of here?” he whispered.

“Please, before he decided to move on to more intimidating weapons.” you snickered.

“I’ll have you know that wreaths are perfectly acceptable projectiles when you two lovebirds are being-” You were grateful for Cassian’s indignant protest being cut off by darkness surrounding you, you and your lover disappearing to your shared bedroom.

Your wings spread on instinct when your feet caught solid ground, and you immediately caged Azriel against the wall, your hands resting on his defined pectorals. “I believe Cassian might need to learn to be grateful of our discretion in public, love.” he muttered playfully.

“We could always show him exactly how much we restrain ourselves in their presence,” you purred. You were always more playful when you two were alone. “I’m sure a little demonstration might remind him of the fact.”

You shuddered as his hands trailed down your back, over your rear and to your thighs, tapping them slightly, and you jumped with a single beat of your wings, obliging his silent demand. He caught you, spinning you around and leading you to the bed, softly laying you down.

Not a single word was uttered about your public displays of affection again.

If I'm being honest, I was planning on finishing up Bird of Prey before Christmas and was hoping to post this as a follow-up, but finals got the best of me. I should be posting more during the holidays!

Banner created by the amazing @saradika!

[imfoive]

The Youngest Son - Chapter 2

Minho x Reader (fem.) Genre: non-idol au!, Suspense, Angst, Romance, Mature Warnings: mentions of drugs, cursing, death, physical assault, somewhat proofread WC: 4.6k A/N: Had to give "Y/N" a surname for the story to flow. Feedback is always welcome, enjoy! ── MASTERLIST

Synopsis: The youngest son of the Lee family was stubborn, he was arrogant, he was conniving. Hiding it all behind the mask of a calm and collected man, the youngest son was a master at mind games. Playing a dangerous game where trust is a luxury and betrayal lurks around every corner. He had sworn once, to not let family ties or any feelings hold him back. Yet, against all odds, she had him completely wrapped around her fingers, and he had no desire to break free.

Missed a chapter? - Chapter 1 /

CHAPTER 2 ───────────────────

The engagement party had wound down late into the night, and the last of the reporters had finally departed. Yet, Jae maintained his hold around Y/N’s waist as they made their way to the indoor parking lot reserved for VIPs. It was the gesture of possessiveness that grated on Y/N, her discomfort simmering beneath the surface. Finally alone in the quiet of the nearly empty parking lot, she pushed him away forcefully, a move she had long desired to make.

Jae stumbled back, catching himself against a nearby pillar. His annoyed laughter rang out in the semi-empty space, echoing slightly. The effects of alcohol were evident, his balance wavering as he tried to regain his composure. The chuckle hinted at a carefree demeanor, but Y/N sensed an underlying arrogance that only fueled her frustration further. 

   “You really need to be taught a lesson.” He murmured, his voice a mixture of amusement and something darker.

Rolling her eyes, Y/N turned to leave, but before she could take more than a step, she was yanked back harshly. A gasp escaped her lips as sudden pain shot down her arm. Jae held her tightly, his chest pressing against her back, one hand twisting her arm painfully behind her, the other snaking around to grasp her jaw forcefully. His breath was hot against her ear as he pressed his face close, a chilling laugh escaping his lips.

   “You really don’t know who you’re messing with. Stand down like a good bitch.” He whispered menacingly.

There’s panic in her eyes, yet she still managed to retaliate as her elbow connected sharply with Jae's side, startling him enough for her to break free. She shoved him back, stepping away with a furious glare, her cheeks stinging from his grip.

   “I will end you!” She exclaimed firmly, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her.

Jae stumbled back, his expression darkening with anger and surprise. Clutching his side where she had struck him, a brief wince of pain crossed his features before he masked it with a cold smirk.

In a shocking move, he slapped her across the face. The force of the blow sent her stumbling, cheek burning from the impact of his ring. Blood trickled from a cut on her lip. It takes her a moment to register that he had in fact hit her. Not only hit her, but made her bleed. Seeing the blood from her lips on her fingers, anger surged through her. Gripping her purse tightly, she swung it at him with all her strength. 

Somewhere deep down she was scared. She was afraid that he would do something to her, that her facade of a strong and confident woman would crumble and he would see she was just another weak woman attempting to fight against a man. She continued to strike him with her purse, the smacks hitting against him, loud.

Jae staggered lower, arms raised to shield himself as he groaned in pain, his drunken state impairing his ability to retaliate effectively. She wasn’t sure how long and how hard she had hit him, he had collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Y/N stood there, trembling with adrenaline and fear, staring down at Jae's unconscious form sprawled on the parking lot ground.

The silence in the parking lot felt suffocating against the backdrop of whatever had just happened. Tears welled in her eyes, a mixture of relief and lingering fear. Clutching her purse tightly, fingers trembling, she sank to her knees beside him, cheek throbbing painfully where he had struck her. She could feel a bruise forming, but her fingers trembled too much to assess the damage properly. Her purse slipped from her grasp, falling limply beside her.

Surrounded by the eerie quiet, Y/N’s thoughts raced. Despite the solitude, her mind was consumed by thoughts of Minho. She longed for his presence, aching for his strength and comfort in that vulnerable moment. ─────────────────────── Minho gently covered Y/N with a soft blanket, tucking it around her with a tenderness that hasn’t disappeared since she showed up at his doorstep. She slept deeply, her exhaustion evident in the lines of strain that softened in her face as she relaxed. Carefully, he took the now-melting ice pack from her hands, noting how worn out she appeared even in her peaceful slumber.

Bringing her wrist closer, Minho inspected the faint bruises left by Jae’s forceful grip. His brow furrowed with concern and a simmering anger, though he kept his expression calm as he examined the marks. Y/N stirred slightly in her sleep, prompting him to gently brush her hair back from her face, his touch light and comforting. The youngest son entered his father’s study the next morning, finding his mother and eldest brother Joohyeon already seated, awaiting their father's arrival. He bowed respectfully to them, receiving nods in return that acknowledged his presence. The atmosphere was formal and tense. The secretary entered and bowed to Minho’s mother, signaling the arrival of their father. When he entered, his demeanor was as stoic as ever, devoid of any hint of warmth or approval. His gaze swept over the room, immediately noting the absence of his second son.

   “Where is that good-for-nothing son of yours?” Their father’s voice echoed gruffly through the study, laced with a deeper anger than usual.

The lady in the room sighed, sinking back into her seat on the sofa.

   “You know what he’s like. Why do you ask?"

   “Father, Jihoon drank too much last night trying to entertain guests. Please cut him some slack.” Joohyeon interjected quickly, rising to defuse the tension.

Minho stifled an internal laugh, they were all so predictable. His father’s gaze settled on him, a rare small smile forming on his lips.

   “We don't need that hooligan. Minho is here.” His father declared, dismissing everyone else in the room but focusing his attention squarely on Minho.

Ever since his return from school, the youngest son had been driven by a singular goal. To earn the trust of the Lee family. For Minho, this wasn’t merely about playing the role of an obedient son who followed orders for the sake of his father’s approval. No, he had far deeper ambitions in mind.

As he observed the old man looking at him with a growing sense of trust and relief, Minho felt a cold satisfaction creeping over him. This trust was precisely what fueled Minho’s resolve. How satisfying it would be, he thought, to watch that trust shatter into a thousand irreparable pieces.

Every step he took, every word he spoke, was carefully calculated towards that ultimate goal. The facade of loyalty and compliance he wore was a mask, hiding his true intentions beneath layers of deceit and patience.

Instead, the youngest son nods at his father, awaiting his command. 

   “I tried to speak with your uncle last night after the party. But he kept dodging me. How the hell did he manage to get his drug addict son engaged into the Park family?” His father swiftly turned back to Minho, his eyes searching for answers amidst the disbelief.

   “Oh, you didn’t know?” The mother almost berated.    “Maybe you are just that girl’s “boy-toy” after all, like the rumors say.” She laughed almost mockingly. 

His father’s expression darkened again, his gaze shifting between his wife and his youngest son standing before him.

   “She wasn’t aware of it herself. Uncle and Chairman Park must have struck a deal under our radar. I’ll investigate further.” Minho replied evenly, brushing off his mother's mocking remark with practiced indifference.

His demeanor hadn’t changed ever since he had walked in. Minho knew his mother's disdain was palpable, her words a calculated jab meant to undermine him. His older brother, Joohyeon, watched with a mix of curiosity and resentment, clearly feeling overshadowed by the attention focused on Minho.

   “Good. You do that.” Without missing a beat, his father turned to his oldest, issuing instructions with authority. 

   “Joohyeon, pry the information out of Jae. Offer him whatever it takes—drinks, drugs, favors. I'm sure he’ll cave.”

   “Jae is at least of some use to Older Brother won’t you say?” All eyes land on his mother, she finally places her cup of tea down, crossing her legs.

Before Joohyeon could respond, his mother interjected with a sharpness that cut through the tension.

   “At least Jae serves some purpose to Older Brother, unlike some others.” She glanced pointedly at Minho and then at Joohyeon, emphasizing her belief in their respective shortcomings.

   “For a druggie, Jae is actually competent. There’s also Jungshin, his other son who stands proudly. He’s got options. What do you have? A thirty-year-old divorcee, a playboy, and an illegitimate son.” She scoffed, her gaze flickering between Minho and Joohyeon.

Minho stood stoically as he sensed the storm gathering in his father’s eyes. The simmering anger was only rising amongst the tension in the room

   “Get Lee Jihoon here now!” His father’s voice boomed, directed at his secretary, who promptly nodded and swiftly exited the room. The constant vibrations of her phone against the coffee table jolted her awake. Sitting up, the sharp pain on her cheek reminds her of the ordeal she had gone through the previous night. She gingerly touched her cheek, wincing at the tenderness. Glancing around, she realized she was still in Minho’s living room. She had dozed off after taking painkillers, recalling she had fallen asleep on his lap, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

Her phone buzzed insistently on the coffee table, drawing her attention to a flurry of missed calls and messages from her mother, secretary, and friends offering congratulations. She sighed, almost tossing the phone back down when it vibrates once more with an incoming call, displaying Minho’s name. 

   “Still not awake?” His voice came through, unexpectedly loud in the quietude around her.

She looks around, clearing her throat.

   “What are you talking about, I’m having breakfast at home.” She lied, trying to sound composed as she gathered her belongings.

Minho chuckled knowingly. “I guess you missed the breakfast I left on the counter then.”

Her heart skipped a beat. She glanced over her shoulder towards the direction of his kitchen.

There was a rustling sound on Minho’s end, the faint echo of a car door closing. His voice turned serious, cutting through the distance between them.

   “I know a way to get you out of this engagement.”

Her brows narrow, a serious expression replacing her confused one.

   “Do you trust me?” ─────────────────────── There was a tense atmosphere at headquarters following the engagement event, with both families and key figures present. Y/N wasn’t one to typically arrive late to important meetings, but circumstances had led to her delay. Even Jae managed to appear, despite his rough morning awakening in a parking lot. Jihoon’s presence itself was a surprise, still dressed in last night's party attire. Minho observed the room, noting the uneasy shifting and forced smiles exchanged among attendees. His mother and aunt engaged in polite conversation with Y/N’s mother, while their fathers conversed intently. Minho’s uncle glanced at the clock, signaling impatience.

Jae sported noticeable slices and cuts on his neck, dismissed as a shaving mishap though Minho suspected otherwise. His siblings, Jungshin and Jookshin whispered to each other, casting glances at their watches. Finally, Y/N’s mother cleared her throat, attempting to maintain composure.

   “She’s usually punctual. Something must have delayed her.” She remarked with a strained smile.

Her father’s expression darkened in either concern or impatience, gesturing to his assistant to investigate. As the assistant hurried towards the door, it swung open, revealing her entrance. She wore sunglasses and a meticulously styled outfit, but the shock on everyone’s faces betrayed any semblance of normalcy. The click of her heels echoed loudly in the silence as she removed her glasses, briefly meeting Minho’s eyes before turning to her astonished father, confusion etched across her features.

   “What the hell happened to your face?!” Her father’s exclamation cut through the stunned silence, his eyes wide with concern and anger as he noticed the severe bruising on her cheek.

   “Oh. This? Ah, it was a gift from Jae.” She brushed her fingers lightly across her bruised cheek, almost as if she had forgotten it was there.

All eyes in the room shifted towards Jae, whose own widened in response to the sudden attention. It was clear he wasn't in a favorable position.

   “You dare?!” Her father erupted, swiftly rising from his seat and lunging towards Jae, grabbing him by the collar and yanking him out of his chair. Chaos ensued as others rushed to intervene, older men restraining her father while his brothers and cousins rallied around Jae’s defense.

Minho took a step back, absorbing the chaotic scene unfolding before him. His gaze shifted towards Y/N, noting her mother by her side, attentively inspecting her bruised face.

   “The deal is off. Get this son-of-a-bitch out of my face!” 

Her father’s abrupt departure and the resounding slam of the door startled everyone in the room, causing a collective flinch. His assistant hurriedly followed after him, while her mother cast a furious glance at Minho’s uncle and Jae before ushering Y/N away, brushing past Minho in the process.

He stepped aside gracefully, a fleeting smile briefly appearing on his lips before vanishing.

The room fell into a heavy silence.

It wasn’t just the slap itself that angered her father. It wasn’t merely the visible bruise on her face. No, what truly infuriated him was the public display of her injury.

He may appear to be a caring father, protective of his daughter’s well-being. But beneath that facade was an egotistical businessman, driven by his own ambitions.

Minho understood this well.

If she had gone to her father after the incident instead of confiding in Minho, the outcome would have been vastly different. Surely they had made some deal between the families, and breaking it comes with its own headache. The old man would have employed his manipulative tactics instead, coaxing her into forgiveness, making excuses for Jae’s behavior, shedding tears to evoke sympathy maybe. It would have been the classic emotional blackmail routine. Despite her intelligence, confidence, and success at a young age, she would have relented. She would have let it go, perhaps succumbing to obedience under Jae’s influence.

And Minho couldn’t allow that to happen. Not when she had always been the opposite with him. Always strong-willed, independent, and unyielding.

It wasn’t about pride or ego. It was about possessiveness. He couldn’t bear the thought of her being subdued, especially not by someone like Jae.

She was his. ─────────────────────── Jae and his father stood rigidly, their arms crossed in front of them, facing Chairman Lee with a demeanor that betrayed the recent beating Jae had endured. Despite the marks, they awaited whatever judgment was to come from the elderly man who wielded unseen power behind many family decisions.

Chairman Lee appeared unassuming to the public eye, often seen savoring his favorite tea while observing birds, playing golf, or on extended fishing trips. Officially retired from the company, his influence remained undeniable. His words carried weight and his directives were law.

During one of his fishing excursions, he had caught wind of the scandal his grandson had caused.

He calmly cut his steak into small pieces, glancing up at the father-son duo.

   “Hey Mooyoung, what happened to his face?” Chairman Lee asked his son casually, taking a sip of his water.

   “Father, I taught him a lesson. You don’t have to worry about it.” Mooyoung replied curtly.

The old man studied Jae’s red and bruised face, then turned back to his son with a stern expression.

   “You didn’t teach your son that only cowards hit women?” He asked pointedly.

   “Secretary Cha, go ahead.” He waved at another older man who had been waiting for the Chairman's orders.

   “Father, please, I’ve already hit him enough.” Mooyoung interjected, attempting to placate his father's anger. Jae cowered behind his father, joining in the plea to his grandfather.

The chairman frowned, stabbing his fork into another piece of steak thoughtfully.

   “We already went over this after his last mess. This was his last chance.”

The slap that Secretary Cha gives Jae echoes loudly in the room. Mooyoung could only stand straight, pressing his hands tightly in-front of him.

The second slap makes him flinch, shutting his eyes tight.

   “Grandfather! I’m sorry! I wasn’t in the right state of mind!” Jae cried, dropping to his knees in desperation

   “You know how much trouble we had to go through after he physically assaulted that escort? What good does professionalism do when you have a messy private life that catches the public eye?” The old man demanded, his tone laced with frustration and disappointment.

The third slap makes Jae cower on the ground in fetal position, his hands shielding his face.

His father’s hand outstretched but freezes, retreating under the weight of the Chairman’s gaze.

After a prolonged silence, Grandfather Lee sighed, gesturing to his secretary. 

   “That’s enough. You can stop.”

Secretary Cha nodded crisply, adjusting his suit jacket as he returned to his place by the door, standing rigidly.

Jae remained on the ground, sobbing and trembling. Mooyoung’s discomfort was evident, yet he remained composed, standing resolutely.

The old man rose from his seat, setting his fork and knife down meticulously.

   “Ensure he maintains a low profile for the foreseeable future. I don’t want him anywhere near the Parks or the main house.” Chairman Lee instructed as he started to leave the private dining room.

He paused by his son, muttering over his shoulder.

   “I didn’t arrange for their engagement just for this mess. Fix it before I find you useless as well.” He admonished his son with a sharp glare.

   “Has Minho arrived?” He asks his secretary by the door.

   “He’s waiting at the golf course sir.” 

Hearing about Minho, the old man’s lips curled into a rare smile, the first one seen from him that day. Observing this, Mooyoung’s anger intensified visibly, his fingers tightening into fists before him.

In the Lee family hierarchy, Minho occupied the lowest rung. However, in the eyes of the Lee family patriarch, Minho held a distinct and pivotal position. He was the top dog’s top confidant and executor of commands, and Minho willingly and efficiently carried out every directive given to him. The sound of the golf putter striking the ball rang out loudly as the sun began its descent, casting a golden hue over the course. The old man appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

   “Great shot, Grandfather.” Minho chimed in, joining his side and taking the putter from the old man’s hands.

   “But I still didn’t win the last game.” The grandfather laughed, patting Minho’s shoulder before strolling towards the awaiting golf cart.

Attendees hurriedly gathered around Minho, swiftly collecting the golf equipment and loading it onto the cart. Minho sat beside his grandfather, gazing up at the setting sun as the golf cart smoothly carried them back to the resort, where they planned to enjoy coffee together.

   “My doctor doesn’t recommend me drinking much caffeine, but it’s so addicting.” The old man chuckled, taking a sip of his dalgona coffee. Minho sighed with amusement, reaching for his own cup.

   “Was it your idea?” Grandfather Lee asked, settling back in his seat.

Minho tilts his head in confusion, placing his cup down. 

   “What do you mean?” He pretended. 

He knew exactly what he meant. The dramatic ending of a few-hour old engagement seemed like it came out from a soap opera. Instead, the old man chuckled again, dismissing his own question with a wave of his hand.

   “No, I was just wondering if you are, in fact, dating that Young Miss from the Park family.” His laugh subsides, a smile settled on his lips.

Minho shook his head, maintaining his own smile.

   “I’m not. I keep her on good terms in case we need her help sometime down the road.”

The grandfather nodded understandingly, his toothy grin unwavering.

   “Good. It’s wise to keep useful people at arm's length. That’s why I admire you, Minho.”

There conversation took a turn to a different topics and sometime into the evening, Minho's phone vibrated, prompting him to excuse himself from the conversation.

Secretary Cha walks up to the now alone old man, handing him his handkerchief.

   “My test resulted in a more interesting outcome than I’d thought. That Minho is a smart one.” Chairman Lee remarked.

   “Are you going to stand behind him Sir?” Secretary Cha asks.

   “He’s a smart one, but he’s just like me in my youth.” He looks up to his secretary.

   “Would you trust me?” ─────────────────────── Y/N fiddled with her necklace, her gaze fixed on her reflection, her bruised cheek mottled with shades of red and blue. She reached for a makeup wipe and briskly swiped at it, removing eighty percent of the discoloration. The bruise wasn't severe, but she needed to provoke her father enough to call off the engagement.

And it worked.

Now, all she had to focus on was making Jae pay for harming her face. Minho’s words from the previous night echoed in her mind.

“Should I kill him?”

Someone like Minho could, if she said yes. 

And just at the thought of that, her heart clenched. She had always kept Minho close by her side, ever since they were teenagers. Though she had often coerced him into staying with her, leveraging his compliance, she enjoyed his company. Even if it was by force.

She never really had an interest in him. He was always scheming, calculating, and kept his distance from others intentionally. He often feigned vulnerability to lower others' guards. Y/N had known him since they began studying together at thirteen, but it was only at fifteen that he caught her attention. Supposedly handsome and reputedly the smartest in school, these qualities didn’t impress her. To her, he was just another privileged young man from a powerful but insular family that everyone else feared to cross.

Or so she thought.

The girls grew weary of his hard-to-get antics. The teachers were only interested in the money lining their pockets. The boys harbored envy over his prowess in everything, although that wasn’t all his fault. Y/N observed all of this from the bleachers of the gym, where she sat among her peers, watching the boys play basketball. She witnessed how some boys would deliberately trip Minho, and how he would brush it off with a smile, seemingly unaware of their intentions.

Turning her gaze to the front, she saw a group of girls holding up signs professing their love for Lee Minho, loudly cheering for his every move. It frustrated her how they could switch so quickly from gossiping about him in the girls’ bathroom to adoring him openly. Minho acknowledged them with a wave and a smile as he paused for water, causing them to swoon even more.

Y/N couldn’t stand him. The mixed signals, the fake flattery from others despite their private criticisms—it all fueled her resentment towards him.

A split second. Just a fleeting moment. A brief frown crossed his face when he realized his bottle had been tampered with, filled with salt. In that split second, he acknowledged it and then continued drinking as if nothing was amiss.

She stopped him in the hall, he smiled at her asking if she needed anything. All she could do was look at the empty water bottle in his hand. 

   “Wasn’t it salty?” She asked, her tone direct.

His smile faltered briefly as he raised the bottle to glance at it. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, realizing she was responsible for the salt in his drink.

   “It was quite refreshing actually, especially after running around.” He replied politely, masking any discomfort.

Her eyes drifted down to the red burn on his knee from the earlier trip.

   “Should I get you another cold bottle for that?” She inquired, gesturing towards his knee.

   “That’s fine. Thank you.”Minho replied calmly, beginning to walk away. But Y/N abruptly slammed her arm against the wall, blocking his path.

Despite her shorter stature, her temper was fierce, fueled by a stubborn streak. She was undeniably a force to be reckoned with.

   “You can fool everyone else, Lee Minho. But I’ve had my eyes on you. You’re nothing but a fake.” She accused sharply, her voice laced with disdain.

For the first time, a shadow crossed Minho’s usually composed expression. His smile faltered, replaced by a cool, calculating gaze as he looked down at her.

   “And what will you do about it?” He challenged softly, stepping closer until he towered over her, his tall frame intimidating in the narrow hallway.

She involuntarily took a step back, feeling the weight of his presence.

   “Don’t piss me off.” He muttered icily, pressing the empty water bottle against her before releasing it.

She instinctively caught the bottle before it hit the ground. Minho turned and walked away without another word.

   “You’ll pay for this.” Y/N muttered through gritted teeth, crushing the bottle in her hands, her anger seething, even though he had done nothing to deserve it—at least not yet.

She chased after him that day, her footsteps echoing through the halls as she turned corners in pursuit. As she ran, she questioned why she was expending so much energy on this kid. Finally reaching the second-floor balcony, she spotted Minho below on the ground floor, standing near a parked car where an older man, presumably his father, confronted him. From her vantage point, she could see Minho's posture. His hands clasped behind his back, head bowed in submission.

Quickly, Y/N ducked behind a nearby pillar, crouching low to observe them without being noticed. The scene that unfolded before her shocked and unsettled her. The slap that resounded across Minho's cheek made her flinch involuntarily. She watched in stunned silence as Minho gave no sign of resistance. As if that was a normal occurrence.

   “You lost the game? You’re barely the first in the school, what good are you?” His father’s voice echoed sternly.

   “I’m sorry, father. I’ll better myself.” Minho replied obediently.

His father shoved him back, his gaze dropping to Minho’s knee.

   “You should be more grateful. You’re allowed to say you’re a Lee. Hold your head high.” He admonished.

Minho straightened immediately, arms behind his back, head held high, staring straight ahead.

   “I want you to take part in the triathlon coming up. And win.” His father demanded sharply, spitting out the words before walking away towards the waiting car.

As the car drove off beyond the main gates, Minho's hands dropped to his knees, supporting himself.

   “I never asked to be a Lee.” Minho muttered bitterly to himself, retrieving his gym bag from the ground as the car drove off through the main gates.

Suddenly, Minho’s voice rang out, cutting through the air. 

   “Aren’t you gonna show yourself?!”

Her eyes widened in surprise, realizing she had been caught. When had he spotted her? Slowly, she rose, a guilty expression on her face, knowing she had intruded on something she wasn’t supposed to see.

It was a first for her. The first time she had seen such vulnerability in one of these affluent kids. They all lived in luxury, flaunting new possessions whenever their parents visited, shallowness dripping from their gazes. They wore new necklaces, not handprints from a slap.

As she met Minho’s gaze, unsure of what to say, she knew this encounter had changed something between them.

Was it pity that drew her closer? ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ to be continued.

[mangowillow]

last to know | ch. 1: haunted dreams

pairing: jungkook x (f) reader / kim woosung x (f) reader

summary: you and jeongguk got together at 16 years old, married at 20, and divorced at 21. what was once love ever after turned into nothing but pain and unfulfilled dreams. you keep going despite the pain in your heart that never really went away, until one day, jungkook comes back— to seoul and in your life.

general story tags: divorce au, childhood friends, angst (who am i without it), hurt & eventual comfort, kind of a slow burn, OC is an adopted child in this fic, a lot of flashbacks later on because context is important; and the others that a lot of people seem to dislike: a love triangle and a LOT of miscommunication. look away if this isn't your thing. tags and warnings will be updated as we go along with each chapter!

warnings: nothing really; well, maybe except seokjin's intrusive thoughts about an axe k*ller— but it's tame, i promise! oh, and jeongguk gets slapped. be nice and let me know if i miss anything! there's a mini flashback in this chapter in all italics marked by a ♥!

word count: 3,900

author's note: i am very nervous about this first chapter because it's been A WHILE since i last wrote ~something~ so anyway! here you go, enjoy!

fic masterlist

New York, 2023

It was right when the DJ turned up the volume that Jeongguk felt the impact of a palm hitting him square in the jaw.

Jeongguk doesn’t know what stimuli to focus on: should it be the loud music blasting through the speakers or the sting of the slap that he probably deserved. It doesn’t take his brain too long to piece together what just happened 5 seconds ago. He knows what’s coming and he is also very much aware that he did see it coming sooner or later.

“Fuck you, Jeongguk,” Ae-cha grits through her teeth. Jeongguk swears she’s about to cry, tears threatening to spill amidst the blue glow of the lights above them. “We are dating, how can you say that—”

“We sleep together when it’s convenient for the both of us, Ae-cha.” Jeongguk downs the rest of his scotch, along with the remnants of his pride. “I never said anything about dating.”

“You are such a jerk!” Ae-cha turns a shade of red, tears in the corners of her eyes. It isn’t the first time Jeongguk has ever made a woman cry, but oddly enough, he doesn’t feel that hollow ache in his chest; the one he felt the first time he made that mistake. He should feel bad, he thinks, but then again, he also doesn’t.

Does that make him a bad person? 

“I didn’t listen to my friends when they said you were trouble. I wanted to prove them wrong—” Ae-cha starts, but Jeongguk cuts her off.

“Why? Why do you have to?”

Ae-cha’s eyes grow wide as she watches Jeongguk stare at his empty glass.

“You should have listened to your friends.” Jeongguk says, matter-of-fact. Ae-cha scoffs and Jeongguk knows now is the right time to probably shut up.

But he’s a jerk, just like Ae-cha says he was.

“I told you right from the beginning… we just use each other because we’re both lonely,” Jeongguk feels his throat turn dry, “I think somewhere along the way, you misread my actions.”

Ae-cha doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. She closes her eyes for a minute and Jeongguk looks at her, waiting for her rebuttal. Or maybe a second slap. Whichever comes first.

Ae-cha speaks in a voice so low, it’s perplexing how Jeongguk is still able to pick up her words— “Your problem is that you do not care about other people’s feelings, Jeongguk. You only care about your own.”

Jeongguk tightens his jaw; now he feels his heart aching.

“You hurt people. You ruin good things. You keep your heart under tight wraps and you do not let anyone in. If you keep that up, you will end up with no one.”

Jeongguk stares at Ae-cha, wanting to say something, but failing completely. Maybe this is what he gets for sleeping with a psychologist— a rude awakening.

Before he can say anything, Ae-cha turns on her heel and walks away. Jeongguk remains at the bar for a bit more until the song changes into a slower tempo. It feels like a chore walking back to the table where his best friend Yoongi was— like walking on lead. 

“That must’ve hurt—” Yoongi starts, fingers reaching out to the peanut bowl and putting some into his mouth. Jeongguk plops down on the chair with a sigh. “What a shitty night,” he quips.

Yoongi hums, “And whose fault is that?” 

Jeongguk looks at his best friend in annoyance. Yoongi chuckles, putting more peanuts into his mouth. “What’d she say?”

“That I’m a jerk who hurts people and ruins good things.”

“Is it true?”

“You tell me.”

“I don’t think I need to do that, kid.” Yoongi concludes, glancing at Jeongguk. He takes a swing out of his beer bottle before continuing, “You know damn well the answer to that.”

Jeongguk clicks his tongue and takes the beer from Yoongi. He takes a swig himself, letting their conversation die out by drowning it into the same old music he’s used to hearing almost every night. 

Jeongguk comes home to his apartment that night, tipsy and his heart in pieces. Walking into the living room, the corner of his eyes catch the stack of luggages already packed and loaded. He didn’t feel like sitting on the couch so he opts to sit on the floor, his fingers grazing the carpet absentmindedly. A beat later, he allows his heart to bleed once more— as he always seems to do every single night for the past few years. Leaning his head back against the edge of his couch, he cries himself to sleep, wishing, praying the ache in his chest—and the words you hurt people—would go away in the morning.

Seoul, 2023

Your eyes try to take in the art in front of you— The Artist’s Garden in Giverny, Claude Monet, 1900. Usually, many emotions overwhelm your system and you cannot help but discuss any painting with the next person willing to listen. 

And once upon a time, you were enthusiastic about your craft and love for the arts. It was almost always too easy, too often that you could come up with pieces to add to your gallery. But that hasn’t happened in over a year— maybe more than. 

In the stillness of the room you are in, you hear light footsteps coming closer to where you are. You keep your eyes trained on Monet’s painting until your brother Seokjin sits beside you.

For a while, you and Seokjin just sit beside each other— no words, only a quiet understanding that close siblings seem to share and empathize with. Seokjin’s parents adopted you when you were eleven; a year after you and your parents met a horrible car collision. You are five months older than Seokin, yet that fact doesn't deter him at all, and more often than not, he usually ends up acting like your older brother. When he first met you at the orphanage, he grew fond of you real quick— already asking his parents when he’d be allowed to play with you. He doesn’t mind that you were once part of the system, that you are his half-sister— not really. He never treated you any differently. He loves you with his whole heart and he will always protect you. 

This is why he also cannot stand stillness at times, especially when it involves you.

“Have you been waiting long?” Seokjin asks.

You have a habit of kicking your right foot into the air when you don’t really know how to respond right away. You take a sharp inhale before shaking your head. Seokjin follows your line of sight— you were still looking at the painting.

“Does it make you feel better? Looking at this, I mean…” 

Seokjin’s question makes you look at him instead, like you just realized he had been sitting there this whole time and you never knew. He meets your eyes, sees the sadness in them. He will always know no matter how hard you try to hide it.

“Happy birthday, ____”

You don’t respond. 

“Taehyung and the others are waiting down at the cafe. Do you still want to meet them?”

You nod once before giving Seokjin a smile, “Of course.”

Seokjin slides into the gap between the two of you and instinctively, you rest your head on his shoulder as he envelops you in a side hug. He rubs a hand up and down your arm before planting a light kiss on top of your head.

“I know it doesn’t get any easier, ____. But I just want you to know that I love you… We all love you.” 

With shaky breath and tears that threaten to spill from your eyes, you whisper, “I know.”

As Seokjin gets into the driver’s seat, you hand him an envelope. Seokjin has an inkling what it is, but he asks you anyway as he squints his eyes at you.

“What is that supposed to be?”

You push the envelope towards him a bit more, just humming, “It’s the last payment.”

Seokjin rolls his eyes as he presses the ignition. He doesn’t take the envelope, “Oh come on, Seokjin, just take it.”

“And for the nth time, you shouldn’t have to pay for something I willingly helped you out for. We’re siblings, for gods sake, ____.”

You lower your hands, setting the envelope on your lap. Eyes cast down you mumble, “I know that. I was able to sell a painting again after a long time and it felt good… But I already told you this before— I’d feel better if you just please take this.” 

Seokjin lets out a sigh— usually he makes that sound when he’s already defeated. 

“Please don’t tell me you’re giving me all the money you worked hard for,” Seokjin starts and you shake your head as soon as you heard the word all. “No, not at all, I— I had some saved up and the rest of it will be for rent.”

You look at Seokjin who still looks suspicious. You playfully roll your eyes and Seokjin sees you smile for the first time that night.

“I promise.”

Seokjin sets his eyes on the parking lot, placing his hands on the steering wheel, “Fine—” you squeal as soon as he gives in and you place the envelope in the glove compartment. “—but this is the last time, all right?”

“Yes sir, that’s the last of the payments,” you respond a tone higher than your usual. Seokjin chuckles as he sets the gear into reverse.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help moving some of your stuff?” Seokjin asks as you fasten your seatbelt.

“Not really, I think I can manage just fine.”

You expect Seokjin to be backing up the car right now, yet he remains unmoving. You chuckle.

“I’ll be fine, Seokjin. Movers will help me move some of the heavier stuff.”

“Listen, ____, I was beyond ecstatic when you told me you were moving out of… there. I just don’t understand why you need to move in somewhere else when you can just stay with me.”

“Seokjin—”

“And it’s not like you have any problems with money or anything, I mean, you are doing okay right?”

“I am,” you answer with a smirk.

“Yah, don’t give me that look, ____. I’m serious, I really don’t understand why you have to stay somewhere else.”

“I already told you. I don’t need a big apartment, I just need a place to sleep. And isn’t it weird if we live together— people are going to think we’re co-dependent.”

Seokjin opens his mouth to argue, but you cut him off, “And I know what you’re going to ask next. Why did I choose to move in an apartment on the other side of the city? And I already told you a dozen times— I need to learn how to be on my own for real this time. And it’s much cheaper compared to all the other apartments in the city center, I mean— have you seen Seoul?”

“Don’t get cheeky with me, woman. Sure yeah, valid, but have you met your neighbors?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” you ask confidently.

“Well, they could be an ax killer or something—”

“Or they could just be an ordinary person with a normal life, Seokjin.” You laugh at your brother’s catastrophic thoughts. You completely understand where he’s coming from— he just wants to protect you.

“That’s only hypothetical,” Seokjin snarks as he stops at a stoplight. You lay your hand on top of his on the console.

“I know you’re worried about me—”

“I am, you brat.”

“And I will forever be grateful… but I need to do this,” you reply calmly, almost like you were whispering. “I hope you understand.”

“I’m trying, ____. It’s not exactly easy to do that when you’re not giving me the grace to understand exactly why you need to do this… when you can just stay with me. The house is too big. And the cafe is right next door!”

“And we will get to that someday… but not right now, hm?” Seokjin sighs in defeat. “I will call you every single night if that will make you feel better.”

“Yah, those kinds of things have to come from the heart, not because you’re forced to do it just to appease me.”

“I’m not… I actually really want to talk to my little brother every day,” you tease as Seokjin scoffs.

“Fine, you have to call me every day, okay? Promise?”

You grin wide, “I promise.”

“And I am not your little brother, we’re only 5 months apart.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I’m older than you.”

Seokjin grumbles under his breath but a smirk was on his lips, “And you’re always going to be my brat.”

The coffee shop you and Seokjin run together has been passed down by your parents. Ever since Seokjin could utter the word, “coffee,” everyone in the family knew he was destined to manage the coffee chains. Even though you were technically the older one, your parents were more lenient and allowed you to forge your own path. Seokjin understood that and he wouldn’t have it any other way despite your pleas to help him with all the major business work. It has been a few years since the original coffee shop in Seongsu-dong expanded into different branches across Seoul. When you flew back from New York, you immediately put up your own artist studio right beside the cafe. Seokjin even pitched in on the idea of a gallery where people can choose to paint while drinking their favorite latte. Four years later, people now come for the art displays and occasional indie music performances, at times poetry nights. 

Four years later, you were also making a name for yourself as an artist. Seokjin once told you you were a jack of all trades, master of everything because you were crafty with your hands— painting, dress-making, cooking. And you brush him off every single time.

Because if anything, one of your greatest weaknesses was believing whether or not you were good enough for anything or anyone.

Seokjin opens the door for you as you both enter the coffee shop. As soon as you come in, you are greeted by your long-time friends— Taehyung, Hoseok, and Jimin. You met Taehyung and Jimin in New York because you were all fine arts students. Hoseok came into the picture as Taehyung’s lover not long after the three of you came back home to Seoul. 

“There she is, our little star,” Taehyung greets you with his signature boxy smile. His arms are wide open, ready to engulf you in a tight embrace. Jimin and Hoseok follow suit, each with a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s about time you show your pretty face, ____. It’s been ages since we last saw you,” Jimin quips.

“But I text and call you guys almost every day,” you defend. Hoseok pushes a plate of strawberry cake towards you and adds, “It’s not the same as seeing you in the flesh, ____. You look amazing, as always.”

“Thank you, Hobi. That’s reassuring, considering the fact that I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in ages.”

“Too many commissions?” Jimin asks.

“More than that, the gallery show at Seojung Art is in six months, and I still haven’t started on my piece.”

“Do you already know what you’re going to create?” Taehyung asks as he takes a bite of his croissant.

“That’s the problem… inspiration isn’t coming. It’s a bother,” a frown now evident across your face. Jimin holds your hand.

“You know you’re really talented, right, ____? You’ll pull through.”

“Thanks, Jiminie,” you smile at him. 

“Maybe one of the customers’ paintings here could ignite a spark?” Taehyung starts. “I mean, sometimes the best kind of inspiration hits when you least expect it.”

“You’re right. I’ll sleep on it tonight… if I do get to sleep,” you chuckle, but they all know it’s more than that.

Seokjin comes back to the table with your hot mint tea— a drink that almost always helps you fall asleep.

“What’s with the dead atmosphere, guys? It’s been a while since we all got together like this and you’re all moping,” Seokjin jokes. He has always been the life of the party contrary to his very introverted nature.

“It really is a good night, isn’t it?” Taehyung replies as he eats up the last bit of his pastry. “Hoseok and I actually enjoyed the night breeze on the way here because it was just the right amount of chilly.”

“Always the romantic, this one,” Hoseok laughs.

Jimin carefully watches you as you sip your tea in silence. “Are you all settled to move in tomorrow, ____? Do you need help?” 

“I’ll be fine, Jimin. I don't have as much stuff to pack, anyway.”

“Oh yeah that’s right, tomorrow’s moving day. Are you excited?” Taehyung jumps a bit on his seat, suddenly interested in the conversation.

“Not really, I mean, it’s going to be pretty boring moving stuff around, don’t you think?”

“But it’s also the start of a new beginning.” Taehyung supplies.

You smile after taking a bite of the cake, “That is very true.”

Seokjin opens his mouth to talk, but then closes it. He changes his mind anyway, “Her neighbors don’t own axes or something, right Taehyung?”

Taehyung giggles, “I don’t know, hyung, It’s not like I went into every apartment on her floor.”

Seokjin turns pale and Taehyung laughs. Taehyung used to live on the same floor as the one you’re about to move into— before he moved in with Hoseok.

“Seokjin is so worried about the neightbors that he couldn’t stop ranting about it on the way here,” you chuckle. “But as I told him, I’ll be fine.” You placed emphasis on the word fine as you held Seokjin’s hand for reassurance under the table.

“Are you telling that to us or to yourself?” Seokjin starts. He has a way of being so upfront with you that there were moments when it became the cause of your fights and misunderstandings. Seokjin sometimes does not know when to stop, yet you know he always means well. You love and dislike him for it at the same time.

“Hyung…” Jimin readily interjects.

“It’s okay, Jimin…” you put your fork down and paused before looking at Seokjin. “I am telling all of you and myself… that I will be fine. I am honestly really thankful that you’re all here now to keep me company.”

You’ve been saying the word “fine” and “okay” a whole lot that night— you started to doubt if you really are or if Seokjin was right— that you’re just trying to convince yourself of it.

“Are you holding up okay, noona?” Hoseok asks, worried.

“Of course—” you take a sharp exhale before continuing, “It also means that time is helping me get past it. And I am okay with that.”

None of your friends respond. 

“We love you always, ____. You’ll always have us.” Taehyung said.

“Happy birthday, noona,” Jimin smiles. 

Your friends sing you their greetings as Hoseok brings out their surprise birthday cake and flowers. As you try not to cry at their gesture, you try to give them the most genuine smile you can muster. Yet in your heart, you know it’s not enough to convince them. Or yourself.

♥ “You do not get to tell me shit because I have done everything for you—”

“I didn’t ask for any of this, Jeongguk—”

“And yet you still came here with me. If you are really that resentful about moving here… about marrying me— then why did you stay? Why are you still here?”

“I never said I resented you.”

“Yeah? Well it feels like it. You make me feel like shit whenever I can’t help you! God I— you know what? I’m done. I can’t do this with you anymore.”

“W-what do you mean you can’t—”

“—I’m saying we should end this. I want a divorce.”

Yoongi gently shakes Jeongguk’s shoulder to wake him up. “We’re almost landing, Jeongguk-ah,” he whispers.

Jeongguk slightly jerks from his sleep. His body feels heavy, his brain foggy but at the same time trying to recover from the dream he just had.

“It’s the same dream again, isn’t it?” Yoongi asks, knuckles turning white as he holds on to the arm rests. Turbulence has always been a bitch— well, at least to Yoongi. Jeongguk doesn’t answer him; instead, he looks out the plane window, thinking the plane couldn’t land fast enough.

“You keep calling out for her, you know? When you dream, I mean. Did you know that?”

That gets Jeongguk’s attention. He bites down on his lip ring before shaking his head, “No. I didn’t know.”

From baggage claim until Jeongguk and Yoongi exit through arrivals, there has been nothing but silence. Yoongi notices how Jeongguk’s hands couldn’t keep still: he’d take them in and out of his pockets. As they walk to the car that awaits them, Yoongi asks once more— “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?

Jeongguk lets out a long breath before looking at his best friend: “I will be.”

“This is the last of the boxes, ma’am.” One of the movers holds a medium-sized box. “Where do you want me to put it?”

You get up from one of the boxes you were opening, “Oh, that’s okay, I’ll take it. Thank you.”

“I just need you to sign one more thing before we wrap up.”

“Of course,” you take the pen and sign on the dotted line.

“Have a good day,” The movers gave you a small bow before they went on their way. Looking around the room, you let out a sigh. The apartment is bigger than you initially thought but you are happy about that. There’s an extra room spacious enough to set up a painting studio. 

Your eyes land on the last box that was given to you by the mover. Inside it are memories that you don’t feel ready to touch just yet. Despite everything else scattered around your room, you pick up the box and shove it into the back corner of your closet. Maybe someday you’ll have the heart to open it again, but right now, it stays out of sight.

You were about to start opening one of the other boxes when a soft, melodic voice comes up behind you— “Hey baby.”

You turn around quickly, your heart and body naturally gravitating to the owner of the voice: Kim Woosung, your boyfriend.

“Hi,” you softly respond, heart happy upon seeing your boyfriend’s smile. He sets the take-out bags down to hug you. Woosung then gives you a long kiss on your forehead, mumbling, “I missed you.”

You don’t lift your eyes to meet his right away, but your hands reach out for his as he cradles your face. When you finally look at him, he gives you that warm smile you have always loved. With Woosung, there is peace, the kind that secures your heart. As he aligns his forehead with yours, you feel all your worries melt away. 

With Woosung, everything feels safe, so right.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Woosung apologizes. You shake your head gently and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You’re just in time.”

[sutaagaaru]

STAR BOY— BONUS #1: SHADES OF WINTER

౨ৎ synopsis: torugu guse is an author who has become a client under the Kaisen Literature Company, for their compilation of poems and short stories. it’s gojo satoru’s job to read it and come up with a design.

౨ৎ summary: gojo satoru reads the first poem in shades of winter.

author’s note: hi! so if you’ve been reading along with STAR BOY, i have created these short bonus chapters that break away from the actual story and are set in the past. it’s a prequel of sorts. you don’t have to read these to understand the main story, but it’s definitely a little insight into satoru’s life, and does tie into the main storyline from chapter 4 onwards. these bonus chapters will be every now and then, not regularly updated with STAR BOY. the reader from the main story is also not featured. it’s literally just about gojo. (and some others…) mwah, enjoy!

“our latest project needs to be read by everyone, by the end of the week. please relay this message to your staff, so we can begin the process of getting it out there next monday. thank you.” one of the board directors spoke, excusing himself from the room.

“what a drag. that whole meeting could have been summed up with an email. don’t you think, nanamin?” gojo satoru complained, as he usually did, to the stoic blond beside him.

“practically anything can be summed up into an email, gojo. but who wants to receive so many emails from their superior, especially if it’s out of work hours?” nanami kento mumbled dispassionately.

“whatever. what is this shades of winter, anyway?” i didn’t know poetry was trending these days.” satoru picked up one of the transcripts left in a pile on the boardroom table, quickly flicking through the pages.

“from what i’ve read, the author published one of their poems on a social media app and it picked up a lot of traction. jumbler, i think it was called.” nanami too picked up a copy of the transcript, immediately placing it in his briefcase.

“hah, you mean tumblr? keep up with the times nanamin. either way, i’m glad they’re all short. it makes them easier to read with my staff.”

“i’ve never understood why you read our projects that way. surely it’s much better and impactful to read it in the comforts of your home, alone.” nanami furrowed his brows.

“that’s only because you like being in your home alone. it’s boring doing it that way, that’s why we all read it together. besides, since these are all lame poems i can read them out loud, that way no one will fall asleep.” satoru took no notice of nanami’s incredulous expression.

“you may be surprised, they certainly aren’t ’lame.’ i managed to find one of torugu’s older works and they are truly beautiful. in any case, i suggest you head to your department. we all have work to do.” nanami exited the meeting room, while gojo stared at the transcript.

as if some stupid poems could surprise him.

shades of winter

ten years.

ten winters, all of different shades and full of pale faces.

i see a bed of snow,

and the twinkle of your eye,

and the shades and faces melt into the winter sky, ten years ago.

nine summers.

countless summer days, when the snow has long left the floor.

i see a burning sun,

and the warmth felt from your touch,

and then, i find, the cold emptiness has only just begun.

ten birthdays.

ten christmases.

ten rotations around the earth.

i feel myself slipping through the void, the endless, unlimited void, which has risen from your absence.

or my absence, i suppose.

when i close my sunken eyes,

i see a bluish hue,

it sort of looks like you.

ten years.

ten winters, all of vastly different shades.

the shades of winter, oh so intricate, yet dull.

duller than the summer days, than the void in my mind.

duller than that you-shaped hue flickering behind my sunken eyes.

will there be ten more years?

will i even remember the details of your face?

it’s too much to think. but the only thing i’m sure of

is i’ll see a bed of snow,

and i’ll begin to cry,

and i don’t know why

when it was a winter, ten years ago.

—torugu guse.

“the rhyme scheme is all over the place! is this really the project we’re working on this week? i mean, what does any of this even mean?” a member of the design staff commented.

“i think that’s kind of the point. the speaker is going through a heavy loss, and spiralling because of it, so they can’t even make sense of their words. that’s what i got from it.” another chimed into the debate.

“i agree, it’s like the speaker is stuck on this person, and even though it’s not clear if they died or just left, you can tell they’re still thinking about the day that person disappeared. what do you think, gojo-san?” someone asked.

but satoru could not speak. his eyes were glued to the page, bouncing back between the words.

“i think… i think we should read these in our own time.” satoru finally looked up, his voice uncharacteristically soft and solemn.

“what? we’ve never done that before, you always said it’s more fun to read together!”

“this is… nothing like i’ve ever read before. i- i’ll be right back, you guys can have a break. i’m just gonna- i’ll be back.” the man disappeared from the office, running to the bathroom.

satoru stared at his reflection in the mirror, his wide eyes and panicked expression looking unfamiliar to himself. that poem, for some reason, spoke to him in a way he couldn’t seem to accept. it was like a poignant reminder of the ache in his heart, a reminder of his worst days.

it was almost as if someone had scribbled down the inner workings of his brain, weaving in the hidden emotions that he kept locked away for his own good.

if the rest of the stories were like that… satoru was terrified to turn the page.

with urgency, satoru turned the water on and splashed his face.

who the fuck is torugu guse?

౨ৎ…!

author’s note: i feel like this could be really obvious or extremely confusing. either way, i hope this made some sense to you, and i sincerely hope you will enjoy this little bonus backstory while i continue to write STAR BOY.

by the way, yes i did write that poem myself… i am not claiming to be a poet but i kinda like how it turned out.

thanks for reading!

© SUTAAGAARU 2024. do not repost, translate, or duplicate any of my works here or any other websites.

taglist: @higurumapet @opheliaas-stuff @diogodxlot @socialanxietyvictim @delirious-donna @zombriesworld @aomi04 @topiatwinss @doyouevenshipit @levin4nami @miguellover6969 @pennameyoruichiii

[builtbybrokenbells]

Gold Dust Woman | ix

Broken hearts and bruised feelings make for an ugly pairing.

Read part eight here

Pairing: jake kiszka x f!reader, sam kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 16.4K

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (wrap it), fingering, oral (m&f receiving), exhibitionism, public sex, impact play, spit play, temperature play, dom/sub, touch of bratty sub, praise, degradation, soft sex, angst, fighting, mentions of alcoholism/alcoholic tendencies, drinking, swearing, crying, v emotional chapter, sorry if i miss any!

heres chapter nine a little early, just cause I feel so bad for being horrible at posting 😁 also I am living for the speculation on the story; you all have very intriguing ideas to share. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (cause there’s def lots, this is incredibly lightly edited)

Music boomed in your ears and your chest burned with heat from your last shot. Dylan and Riley were fighting against their disgust for the tequila, nursing a lime wedge in their mouths as their eyes watered with regret. You placed your own wedge in the shot glass, barely wincing as the alcohol moved to your stomach. You had become accustomed to the sensation, and it was no different than the scratch of cigarette smoke on the back of your throat. If anything, the otherworldly ache from substance was much easier to digest than the permanent pain that settled in your heart. But, to you, another night of drowning out the sorrow was infinitely better than speaking the trouble into existence, even if you knew you would wake up feeling worse than the morning before.

Days had passed since your first show in Atlanta. It had gone without a hitch; the only thing you wished to change was the length of time you were allowed to spend on stage. Performing was your new purpose, your driving force for getting out of bed and surviving the day. It was something you had been searching for since you moved to Nashville, and you had finally found the feeling outside of another human being. The world seemed perfect if you were an outsider looking in, but perfect was subject, and your life was far from it. You had your dream job, more money than you ever dreamed of as a child, and more love pouring in than ever before, but you were still miserable. So miserable that drinking away the day served as more comfort than sobriety, lately.

Gold Dust Woman had become you; the name fitting better than it ever had. Elusive and empty, always searching for a thrill in a bottle, and seemingly unable to find a purpose. You felt like you were walking aimlessly, showing up to venues solely for the sake of entertaining. When the hotel doors closed and you found yourself alone again, any sense of self was gone without a trace. Mirrors had become the enemy, always seeming to showcase the emptiness you held behind your eyes, taunting you with unfamiliarities that you did not have the energy to change. You were lost within the mess of the rockstar lifestyle, and the blame was only on you.

You had turned volatile and distant, a shell of who you used to be. Unfortunately, it was not the pressure of the music industry, nor the lack of rules and enhanced freedom that you had gained. In truth, that was very low on your list of reasons for feeling so poorly. The reality was that your dance with the devil had finally caught up to you. The brothers had moved in for the kill, successful in their strike. Entertaining love from both of them had always been tiresome, but now you were exhausted. It was not loving them that was difficult, rather the fact that you loved them so much, and so equally. Now, there was no chance of escaping them, even just for a moment. You lived with them, travelled with them, and worked with them every minute of the day. Most of the time, your closed hotel door room did not even stop them from invading your life.

Sam was persistent, always around in attempt to win your heart for good. Jake, on the other hand, was absent once more. This separation was not at his hands, though. You had refused any further contact after the debacle of the nameless bimbo at the Atlanta venue. You had no way to express it, but the pain you were holding from that interaction was debilitating, and it was only worsened when you looked at him. You understood that his intent was to hurt you in the same way he was hurting, but he struck nerves that you didn’t even realize existed. You weren’t official with either boy, but had always been under the pretence of at least being committed. Perhaps your jealousy and anger was misplaced, but even if it was, it was still very present in your mind.

You were certain he knew the affect of his actions, and you were sure he felt remorseful about it. However, you had never allowed him the chance to express his apologies even if he did want to make amends. Every conversation he initiated was quickly shot down, every touch was evaded, and every longing glance was not returned. You tried to appear uncaring, but the truth was you cared too much. You weren’t sure if this stood for the ending of your relationship with Jake, but it was certainly a bump in the road that threw you violently off course.

Your hurt lied within the fact that Jake and Sam both knew the truth about the situation; they continued to try and win you over while knowing that you were seeing both of them at the same time. You, however, were not under the impression that the brothers would be entertaining anyone else. If Jake had flirted with another girl in good faith, maybe you would have been more likely to forgive and forget. Instead, he only used the woman to bother you. She was a weapon meant to shatter your ego, and it did exactly that. His childish endeavour was harmless in theory, mostly because you knew he did not take her home that night. Even if he did spend the entire evening immersed in her, it ended as soon as you both walked out of the door of the venue. The issue was not the innocent flirting; it was the fact he had done it solely to hurt you, and hurt you he did.

Seeing him entertaining advances from another person reminded you of where you sat all those months ago, pining after Sam while he had girls tripping over themselves to get his attention. It put you directly back into the state you were in when you were desperate for Sam’s attention, crying and hurting every night over someone who refused to acknowledge your existence in any way other than friendly. It made you feel small, insignificant and shattered your entire self worth. Perhaps he was trying to make you see things through his eyes, but he had no idea it would burn you as bad as it truly did. Being second to someone else was normal for you, but having gone so long without feeling that way, you seemed to have forgotten how much it sucked. Outwardly, you were furious, but deep down, all of the anger was nothing short of an act to cover the sound of your own breaking heart.

You missed him terribly, but not enough to give in so easily. You were determined to reach a lesson, and so far it had been working well. Although both of you were nearly unbearable to be around, the message was definitely portrayed in the way you intended, and that was enough to keep you in moderately good spirits. “Another one, please.” You told the bartender, closing your eyes for a moment to regain your senses. Thinking about Jake for too long seemed to heighten your blood pressure and prompt a migraine. You loved him, but in the same way a dog stays loyal to the owner who inflicts pain on it. You had one hell of a knack for self punishment, and you almost seemed desperate to be hurt by him. Instead of cutting it off completely, you continued to string each other along in the most painful way possible.

Loving him from a distance was excruciating, but loving him fully was even worse. Your feelings for Jake were so intense that it was hard to comprehend, but you seemed to be angry at each other more than you were happy with each other. You couldn’t help but appreciate how simple things had been with Sam, and even when you were annoyed with each other, it never seemed quite as catastrophic. Comparing the two brothers in any sense was something you had sworn not to do, but at the end of each day that passed, it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep them separate.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” He said, placing the shot in front of you. The term of endearment sent a shiver down your spine, immediately reminding you of the boy who you were desperate to forget about. He was an addiction, one that you knew was killing you, but you couldn’t figure out how to give him up. It was selfish, but on the list of sins you had committed over the course of your relationships with the boys, greed one of the lesser injustices.

“Thank you,” you placed the cool glass to your lips, tilting your head back and swallowing the liquid. Without as much as a wince, you sat the glass back on the table and popped the lime in your mouth to satiate the burn. “Can I get a double rum and coke, too?” You had been drinking since before the show, but you were yet to feel even a buzz. You opted to pick up the pace, hoping if it wouldn’t wipe your memory clean, it would at least lull you to sleep later.

“Do you think I’m strong enough to carry you home?” Dylan asked, giving you an incredulous look at the sound of your order.

“No, but it would be funny to watch you try.” You chuckled, slipping your fingers around your drink and bringing the straw to your lips.

“You’ve been drinking since this morning. How are you still standing?” Riley asked, joining the conversation.

“Talent.” You smiled, looking to the booth that held the rest of your company. “I’m going to play pool.” You announced, not waiting for them to follow before moving towards the crowded area. You picked a cue off the wall, scanning the tables in hopes of finding a group that was looking for an extra. Better yet, your gaze landed upon a vacant table that was up for grabs. You moved towards it, setting your drink on the corner and arranging the balls.

You shot the cue ball, breaking the rack of the other balls. They scattered across the green surface of the table, one landing in the corner pocket and the rest slowing to a stop before they could reach.

You made a move to line up another shot, focusing on the ball and sinking it effortlessly. You straightened up, scanning for your next target, when you felt a body present itself at the end of the table. “Nice shot,” without any deeper analysis, you could tell that the compliment was laced with deeper meaning. The conversation starter was not because of your drunken talent, rather because he was desperate for you to speak to him. You did not acknowledge him, opting to brush past him and shoot at another ball. At your rejection, you thought he might head back to the booth to sulk, but you were never lucky, especially when it came to Jake. “I’d love to join. You know, if you don’t want to keep playing yourself.” He offered.

You made a move back to your drink, refusing to even look him in the eye. Instead, you shot another ball into a corner pocket, the slam of the cue against the ball exaggerating your feeling of distaste for his company. He watched, unsure of what to say to make things better. He knew he had done wrong, and it was haunting him. His moment of gratification from your shock was not worth losing you for good, and if he could take back the pain he caused, he would without hesitation. Despite his regret, he was beginning to get fed up with your lack of communication. His hot-headed nature was quickly surfacing, and he could only keep his composure for so long.

“Come on, y/n. Cut the shit.” He snapped, finally losing the temper he’d been so desperate to keep hold of. At the sound of his tone, your head shot up in anger, pupils clouded with a flame of rage. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Jake.” You snipped, knuckles turning white from the tight grip you had around the wooden cue.

“Oh, I know, Gold Dust Woman.” He said, never breaking your gaze. Your heart was erratic in your chest and the alcohol in your system was not particularly intoxicating you, but it was definitely worsening your emotional state.

“That’s your problem, Jake. You know everything, don’t you?” You sneered. “You’ve got it all figured out, and we just live in this world that Jacob created and we have to be happy about it because he thinks he’s fucking god.” You slammed the cue back on the rack, finished with your lighthearted game and finding yourself overdue for a departure.

“So you want to fight?” He chuckled, peering down at you with a hint of curiosity in his face. “Let’s fight, sweetheart. I’ve got all night.”

“I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to speak to you at all, but you can’t seem to take the fucking hint.” You picked up your drink and began walking away, done with the conversation before it ever really started. You were in no state of mind to hash out your thoughts or settle the matter, and you weren’t willing to channel the energy to get there.

“I want to talk, y/n. That’s the point. You can’t have it your way all of the time, even if you’re so used to getting it.” You chugged back the last of the liquid in your cup, sitting the glass on the counter as you signalled the bartender towards you. “The world has more than just you in it.”

“Another double, please.” You said, disregarding Jake’s words completely. “And I’d like to close out, if I can.” He gave a nod, compliant with your request.

“I’ll get it.” Jake announced, brushing you to the side as the bartender sat the debit machine in front of you. He was mad, but it did not forego his feelings for you, nor his need to take care of you. “And mine, too.”

“Fuck off, Jake.” You warned, reaching to grab it before he could. He looked to you, eyes all but red with anger, clearly showcasing that he was more than done with your tyrant.

“Behave,” he muttered, just low enough for you to hear. Even as upset as you were, his words prompted a rush of arousal straight through you. Jake being an asshole somehow equated to sexual desire in your mind, and despite your contempt, you would have been willing to let him have his way with you right then and there. You watched as he paid, turned on but careful to not be forgetful of the fire in your heart. “Let’s go.” He turned to you, eyeing the drink in your hand as a silent order to finish it quickly.

“I’m not going home with you.” You let out a laugh, shaking your head at his ridiculous request. You sipped through the straw, watching as the theoretical smoke began pouring from his ears at your disobedience. You may have been intrigued at his dominance, but not enough to push your feelings to the side. By having sex with him, you would only allow the painful debacle to continue without any repercussions. “I don’t even want to talk to you. Do you really think I want to fuck you?” Something snapped deep inside him, like the fuse to the bomb had finally whittled away to the end.

“I’m not asking, y/n. Finish your fucking drink and get outside.” There was no hidden implications within his message this time; he wasn’t using your high emotion as leverage for a night long session. He wanted to fight, too, even if he tried to pass it off as a mature discussion. You shot him a glare, but chugged down the carbonated beverage like it was holy water, knowing that it would be the night’s only salvation. You sat the cup on the counter and turned without another word.

Back at the booth, Dylan and Danny were watching with fear settled deep in their spines, worried that when they made their return back to the hotel, there would be no building left to sleep in. Jakes need for control and your fiery temper was not a good mix, and that was true without the added effects of the liquor you both had been gorging yourselves on. Danny was certain that Jake’s antics with the nameless woman at the venue would cause nothing but trouble, and Dylan was there to pick up the pieces after the devastation struck. They knew how catastrophic the situation could be, and they weren’t sure how to stop the inevitable.

“They’re going back together, aren’t they?” Josh asked, tipsy and almost laughing at the thought. He wasn’t even facing the door, but he didn’t need to see you to know what you were up to.

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Danny chuckled.

“It’s Jake,” he rolled his eyes, as if it were obvious. “I can feel how angry he is all the way over here. He’s not going to let her go home without him.” The three settled into a shared laugh at the thought.

“Use your twin telepathy every now and then and tell me how they’re doing, okay?” Dylan asked, laughing but still worried about the scene that might unfold. Josh peeked over his shoulder in just enough time to catch Jake swing the door open for you, his grip nearly breaking the wooden panel as he held it. The emotion radiating from the both of you was heavy enough to fill the entire room, leaving no empty space for any questions or concerns.

“They’ll either never speak to each other again, or they’ll be back to normal by tomorrow.” Josh deducted, knowing no better way to explain his thoughts. Dylan heaved a heavy sigh, slinking back into the booth and closing her eyes. Danny snaked an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his side in hopes to ease her worry, but all three of them were praying for the best possible outcome.

The night was cold on your exposed skin; the flimsy fabric of your tattered shirt sprawled with a worn band logo was not enough to insulate any heat. Your jeans were littered with rips and holes, leaving your legs vulnerable, too. The alcohol coursing through you was doing nothing to aid your temperature, and your teeth were chattering as soon as the bar door shut behind you. Wordlessly, Jake followed you as you stormed away. He never let you get too far, but kept a respectable distance from you. He didn’t want you running off, or for anyone to intercept the two of you. His arms-length distance was suitable for his comfort, but he didn’t want to crowd you, either. Even in his anger, he was always mindful of your safety and comfortability.

“Take my jacket, y/n.” He said, watching your draw your arms across your chest to preserve any body heat left in you.

“I don’t want your stupid jacket.” You replied, picking up the pace as you trundled down the sidewalk.

“Not asking,” he reminded, slipping it off his shoulders as he followed.

“Stop trying to take care of me!” You exploded, turning to him quicker than he could comprehend. He halted his movement in attempt to stop himself from running into you, still processing the sudden change when you started to speak again. “It’s not your job, Jake! I never asked you to, and I don’t want you to!” His scowl was heavy, unsettling and so unlike anything you’d seen from him before.

“I don’t care.” He said, looking down at you with little fear of your outburst. “I don’t care if you want me to, y/n. Don’t care if you asked, don’t care if it’s my job. I’m always going to do it, because I care about you. Now take the fucking jacket, and keep walking. You can yell at me all you want when we get inside.” You found yourself caught in a staring contest with him, both fuming but neither willing to give in. He raised an eyebrow, moving his arm to shove the jacket a little closer to you. With a clenched jaw, you snatched it from his hand and draped it over your shoulders. He didn’t think to utter a thanks, and you didn’t stay long enough to notice if he did.

The hotel lobby was vacant when you tumbled through the doors in disarray. The clerk at the front desk seemed like they were eager to greet you, but decided not to once they saw the expression you adorned. You rushed to the elevator, pressing the button as many times as your hand would allow. When the doors opened, you bustled inside and clicked the button to your floor, hoping the doors would close in his face. When they began to slide together, Jake caught up to you in enough time to stick his hand between them and send them flying open again. You rolled your eyes as he made his presence known, wondering why he felt the need to stand so close to you. In truth, he was all the way across the elevator, yet your intoxication and annoyance made it seem like he was nose to nose with you.

When a ding rang through the air signaling your arrival on the top floor, you couldn’t seem to get away fast enough. He stayed close behind, knowing that if he let you get to your room and close the door, you would never let him in. His inkling was not incorrect, as that was your exact plan. You thought if you could gain some distance, you would be able to lock the door and sulk in peace. You flashed your key card against the reader, twisting the knob and pushing inward in one swift motion. You opened the door so fast that you almost fell in and onto the floor, but kept your footing just to get the satisfaction of slamming the door in his face. When you turned to close the door, you were joyous when you didn’t see Jake immediately behind you. You thought you were in the clear, but just before you could bridge the gap, he stuck his foot between the frame and the door itself.

“Take a hint,” you huffed, out of breath from his pursuit.

“Would you give it up?” He snapped. “Let me in. I’m not leaving things like this. I’m not leaving you like this.” He refused to move out of the way, his foot planted firmly on the ground so you couldn’t lock him out.

“Then you can sit out there all night.” You challenged, sending another shove on the handle. He let out a hiss of pain as his foot was jammed in the opening, making the foolish decision to withdraw. Seizing the opportunity, you managed to latch the door shut without any further struggle. Jake felt a wave of frustration wash over him, letting his forehead fall flat against the solid door, sending the thumping sound through your room. You felt a sob rising in your throat, disgusted with yourself and the situation you found yourself in. You, too let your head fall against the door; both of you assumed the position, wishing you were leaning on each other to feel the warmth of comfort. Instead, stubborn and determined to be right, you left your hand on the knob with no intent to open it again. The yearning was so strong that you could both feel it clearly even through the blockage of oak wood.

“I know you’re mad at me, y/n, and I know why.” His words were muffled, but you could hear him clear as day. When it came to the sweet tone of his voice, you would strain to listen until you were left deaf and defeated. “Let me fix it, please.” You didn’t answer, instead felt the tears slip down your cheeks as you pictured the lingering pain he was holding in his features. He hurt you, and you were hurting him. It was an evil thing to entertain a relationship when you were both bound to destroy each other. Love was an ugly motivator, and it had left you both feeling alone much more often than it ever left you happy.

“I don’t want to fix it, Jake. I just want it to stop.” Perhaps your poor mood was clouding the level of drunkenness you were experiencing; now that the rage had settled into a dull ache, your head was swimming with intoxication. You weren’t sure what you were thinking, or feeling. All you knew was that it hurt, and it hurt unbearably bad. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“If you’re ending this, at least do it to my face.” The crack in his voice was unmistakable, his fear louder than any other emotion shared that night. “Please, Gold Dust Woman. Don’t end things like this.” You cheeks were already streaked with mascara, your skin damp with the physical remains of your mistakes. You wanted it to stop hurting, but you didn’t know how to put an end to it. Walking away was tempting, but the emptiness in your heart prompted from the thought alone was enough to make you stay. “Let me in. You can yell, or scream, or break things. I don’t care, just let me in.”

“I can’t let you in, Jake. Don’t you get that?” You clamped your teeth down on your bottom lip, holding back the urge to cry out. “Every time I do, it hurts. It shouldn’t be painful to love you.” You were both too caught up in your breaking hearts to notice the declaration of love that you had let slip. “You said intimacy isn’t easy, and I know that, but it shouldn’t hurt this bad.”

“Open the fucking door,” he pleaded, jiggling the handle as he begged for your cooperation. “Y/n, I will break this door down if I have to.” His desperation was evident, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being in tears and him not being there to hold you. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, despite his previous promises of being a good sport if the situation turned on him. Love had crazed him, and he was too weak to fight it anymore.

You took a step away, looking to the whiskey bottle decorating your nightstand like a trophy of despair. If heartbreak were a competition, you would be in the lead. You reached for it, taking a long drink to satisfy the ache in your heart. You were so lost within suffering that you weren’t even certain what you were hurting over anymore. Yes, Jake had shattered you with his careless flirting, but it had grown far beyond his mistakes. Months of hurting from being stuck between the brothers was breaking you down, leaving nothing left but a mess of guilt and sorrow. You were on the brink of insanity, and you weren’t sure how much more you could take before inevitably spiralling out of control. You had no idea who you were, nor where you were going. Time was blur and you were just a pawn within the game, floating through while life happened around you. When he wiggled the handle one more time, the guilt from pushing him away became too much. You took two long strides to the door, using a single finger to pull down the handle, just enough to set the latch free. It took him a moment to process your action, but once he did, he swung the door open like it was the gate to hell.

Sandalwood filled the room, and it’s cold hands reached out for you with a mask of invitation. When you gave in to it, showing signs of weakness, the fingers clasped around your neck in a violent hold. It was enough to bring you to your knees, enough to make you beg for more, even while knowing it would eventually be the very thing that would take your life. You looked to meet his eyes, but neither of you were ready to run to each other in apology. You took a seat on the edge of the bed, bottle in hand with a heavy heart. “Start talking.” He kicked the door shut behind him, but did not move any closer to you.

“You don’t get to come in here and start barking orders.” You shook your head, chuckling as you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks clean of any painful evidence.

“Would you rather have it your way? I can stand in the hallway and wait. Maybe by the morning you’ll sober up enough to talk to me.” He tried his best to keep cool, but he had never felt so much emotion course through his veins at once. Every possible worry was swimming in his head, leaving him desperate for some sort of relief.

“You’re such a self-righteous prick.” You scoffed, slamming the bottle down on the table. “It’s okay when you get pissed off at me and ignore me for three days, but when I do it, it’s the end of the world?” You looked up, finally catching sight of his face. “Sorry, I forgot you’re the only person in the world who’s allowed to feel things.”

“No, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I think you might have things a little mixed up. I dont go around picking fights at the bar in front of everyone. I’m not the one locking you out in the hallway and making you look like an idiot.” He cocked his head to the side, the look in his eye dangerous. You were both volatile, barely needing to be provoked to explode.

“Oh, so it’s an appearance thing! God forbid Jake looks a little silly, I forgot it’s not good for his image when somebody calls him on his shit.” You seethed. “Sorry I ruined your mystical elusive bullshit, or that I made you admit you can feel something deeper than sexual. It’s about time that I realize that it’s part of the rockstar charm to make someone fall for you and then keep them guessing if you feel the same way.”

“Guessing?” He fumed, taking a step towards you. “You really have to guess if I care about you or not?” You stood, just as willing to challenge him.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t letting random bimbo’s feel you up at concerts.” You snapped. “Or is that your backup plan? Love some brotherly competition but not when it gets too tough?”

“You know that’s not true, y/n.” He warned, pointing his finger at you to solidify his truth. “I fucked up. I get it, and I feel like shit about it. I’ll say I’m sorry a million times if I have to, but you don’t get to accuse me of that.”

“I don’t get to?” You reiterated, trying to understand his words. “You deliberately went out of your way to make me jealous. You stood there, dangling her off your arm like a shiny trophy for what? Leverage? A way of telling me that I’m easily replaceable? Or as a way to tell me that you don’t think I’m good enough?” You tried to fight the wavering tone, tears threatening to make another appearance and ruin your moment of power. “You don’t get to be mad, Jake. You don’t get to be upset over something you started. I understand that this whole thing hasn’t been sunshine and rainbows, but you started it! You got me into bed that night knowing I loved him, and you didn’t care about any repercussions! I can’t keep feeling like shit over an outcome you knew would happen!”

“I get to be mad!” He boomed, moving even closer. “I get to be upset, I’m allowed to hurt, I’m allowed to feel everything that you feel, because I’m a fucking person, too!” You were both yelling, uncaring of the late hour or the neighbouring rooms likely filled with sleeping people. “I get to fuck up, and I get to say sorry, just like you do! Just because I signed up for the pain doesn’t mean it feels nice to see you in his arms!”

“Why doesn’t it feel nice, Jake?” You hissed. “Is it because you love me, or is it just because you don’t want him to have me?” He gave you a bewildered look, stunned by your question. It caught him so off guard that the malice temporarily fled him.

“What?”

“You keep acting like you’re innocent, that this whole thing started because you were so enamoured with me, but it’s just not true, is it?” You raised an eyebrow, watching the flood of disdain wash over his face. “That baggage is awfully heavy, Jacob, even if you think you’re carrying it well. This pissing contest with Sam is way bigger than just me. You let me wallow in the guilt and feel like the worst person in the world because I fell for both of you, but you get off on it, don’t you? The thrill of taking something from your brother?” He straightened up, watching you with a fervour. His expression was deadly, eyes dangerous and warning you to stop before you took it too far.

“Y/n,” his voice was low, the tone calm but covering a mountain of red. He was vibrating at the accusation, and was pleading with you to yield. Their history was always left unspoken, and you voicing it back to him did nothing but bring up years worth of pain he’d been desperately trying to forget.

“Do you like passing girls back and fourth? Stealing them right from each others bed and ruining them, just so you two can make up and hug it out later?” He took a step towards you, silent but deadly. “Is it fun? Do you get a good thrill from it? Do you think you can do it forever, or that you’ll always get away with it, and you and Sam can live happily in your little fucked up world?”

“Stop talking, sweetheart,” he said, looking down at you and hoping you would see reason. You were chest to chest, the tension too high to withstand.

“Just answer the fucking question. Do you love me, or do you just love the idea of him not having me?” He didn’t respond, nor did he move an inch. You were yelling in his face, crazed for the truth, but it didn’t seem to bother him at all. “Tell me, Jake! Because I can’t take this anymore! I can’t keep running back and fourth. It never mattered if I made a decision or not, because you two will never fucking stop! I care about you so much, but it just feels like you both only care about beating each other in your twisted little game. I can’t keep falling without knowing someone is going to be there to catch me, because it’s killing me! This is killing me, and it’s never seemed to bother either of you-“ you were cut off by his hand raising and his fingers gently clasping around your neck, silencing any further thoughts.

“You talk a lot, Gold Dust Woman.” He noted, jaw hard set and nostrils flared with rage as he tried to keep it buried under the surface. “If you would shut the fuck up for a minute, maybe I could answer your ridiculous questions.” You watched him, angry but having no fear of him or that he would hurt you. You gave him a slow blink, showing him that you were willing to listen if he was ready to say something meaningful. “If I let go, are you going to behave?” You blinked again, answering his question sufficiently. He slowly released his hold, studying your face for any sign you would start your tyranny again.

“You really think that I like watching him love you? That it’s fun to know you’re tangled in his sheets, with his name painted across your lips?” You didn’t respond, giving him his own moment to voice his feelings. “It’s worse than torture, y/n. Sitting at home at night, or in my hotel room, knowing that I don’t get to hold you, or tell you exactly how I feel about you. You don’t get to tell me if I’m allowed to hurt, and you don’t get to put words into my mouth to make it sound like I’m a piece of shit. You have never been a game to me. What I feel for you has never been anything but true. Sure, maybe I don’t know how to show it all of the time, and maybe I should learn how to talk about my feelings, but you have no right to say that I don’t fucking care about you.” You felt a flash of regret as he spoke, seeing the sincerity underneath the hard exterior. It was so profound that it made your chest ache just hearing it. You couldn’t imagine the pain he was feeling while professing it.

“You think you’re forgettable? Or that you’re not good enough for me? Like I’m trying to find someone to take your spot once I move on?” His face was hovering over your own, tone condescending and filled with accusatory undertones. You wanted to be angry, but you knew that you had done the exact same thing to him. “Fucking answer me.” He barked, eyes burning into you.

“I… I did, yeah. That’s how it made me feel.” You whispered, voice cracking at the thought of his arm around another girl. “It killed me, Jake, and I had to get up on stage and pretend that you hadn’t just ripped my heart out of my chest.”

“Forgetting you has never been an option for me. I’ve been trying since the day I met you, and even more so after I saw the stars dancing in your eyes every single time you looked at him.” Him. Jake didn’t have to say the name for you to know who he was referring to. Jake had been struggling with inferiority long before you’d ever graced him with your touch, and he was finally reaching a breaking point. Every time he saw you and Sam together, it was like a stab to an already open wound. “I don’t know who made you feel like you weren’t good enough, or why they would ever make you feel like that, but you are more than enough for me. So good that it fucking kills me. You’re worse than any addiction I can imagine, and there is nothing after you, y/n. No girls lined up or anything like it, none that even catch my eye, because it’s all you, and it always has been. You are everything to me.” He tried to keep his stern demeanour, but his strength was wavering at the thought of his own love for you.

“I’m not going to stand here and talk down about him, because I don’t know how he feels or what he’s thinking. All I know is that I have been crazy about you since the first time I laid eyes on you, and I still am. I don’t know how to show you, but I have been trying in any way I know how. Yeah, I started this, and sometimes I wish I didn’t, but it has never been because I don’t want you.”

“If we care so much, why is this so fucking hard all of the time!” You exploded, unable to process everything he was saying to you. “If we like being together, why are we always mad at each other!” Your words were not particularly posed as a question, but rather a statement. “At first it was exciting, and the passion kept things interesting, but now it’s fucking exhausting.”

“Because that’s what happens when people care about each other, y/n! You fight, you feel things you don’t normally feel, and everything is a million times harder, especially when you can’t have each other!” He was frustrated, and that was clear. You still weren’t sure how you felt, or if the anger had dissipated enough for you to move on. You knew you were still upset, but there was a small voice in your head begging for you to reach out and hold him, that it would solve all of your problems and you would wake up in the morning without any more pain as long as you woke up next to him.

“Is that your way of asking?”

“Asking what?” He snapped, tired of the back and fourth.

“To love me.” You clarified, your heart erratic as the words left your mouth. He seemed to stop breathing for a moment, shocked at your words. “Because if it is, it fucking sucks.”

“I have been asking you that every single day, y/n.” He corrected. “In everything I do, and everything I say, but you won’t let me.”

“Because it’s not supposed to be this hard, Jake. The yelling, the ignoring, the jealousy and the pushing each other away. It’s not supposed to be like this.”

“Then leave.” He snapped. “Or tell me to leave! If you don’t think this is right, or if you don’t want me, stop pretending you do.” You managed to shake your head at his outburst, terrified that he would step closer, and even more terrified that he would step back. You wanted to tell him everything, but you couldn’t seem to let the words pass through your lips. It was tantalizing to love him so deeply but have no idea how to express it.

“I can’t.”

“What’s stopping you?” He scowled. “Why are you so scared to say it? It’s a four letter word, y/n. It won’t hurt you, and I’m sure it’ll feel so much better to get it out.”

“Oh, fuck you.” You hissed, placing your palm on his chest and pushing him backwards. You stepped away, making a move towards the bottle of whiskey on your nightstand. He stepped towards it, too, cutting you off and grabbing it before you could lay your hands on it. You turned your head, shooting him a glare that was piercing enough to disturb his soul.

“Or do you think you’re some kind of martyr?” He hummed, a smirk breaking out on his lips. “You’re so worked up because you’re projecting, aren’t you? Mad at us for playing with you, but you’ve been been the biggest con artist of all.” A rush of fear ran through you, your palms sweaty and your blood cold. “Who told you about Sam and I?” He pressed, finally calling out the most crucial piece to the puzzle.

“It doesn’t matter,” you reached for the alcohol, but he moved his hand so you couldn’t grab it from him.

“Maybe we aren’t the only ones who’ve been up to no good, hmm?” He raised an eyebrow, placing the bottle to his lips and taking a slow drink of the amber liquid. “Have you been trying to teach us a lesson, Gold Dust Woman?” He asked, the bottle barely free from his lips before he spoke again. You averted your gaze, nervous that he’d picked up on your plan so easily. “You’re not innocent either, sweetheart.” He picked up on your expression easily, his question answered without any further confirmation needed. “Tell me, baby. Lying won’t help you now.” His smirk turned into a twisted little smile, thrilled that he finally managed to figure you out.

“You can’t outdo the master,” you muttered, knowing that you had learned that lesson long before that moment. “So it never really mattered, anyway.”

“We all lost, angel. There was never going to be a winner, and you know that.”

“So why are you still trying?” You shot, fed up with his game and ready to retire.

“Why are you?” He responded, stalemating you once more. You stared at him, no words surfacing in your brain that seemed fitting for an answer. “Seems like that little four letter word would solve all of the problems once again. It may even be the answer to all of our questions, too.” You shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, knowing that he was right; if you could admit to what you both were feeling, perhaps the pain would be obsolete.

“Give me the bottle, Jake.” You diverted the conversation again, reaching out with annoyance. He pulled his hand away again, shaking his head. You didn’t like the mischievous glint in his eye. It was very clearly telling you that he was no longer interested in talking things over. The demeanour shifted, and the tension in the air quickly turned sexual. He wanted to solve the problems in the best way he knew how, and you were never one to deny him of a wish.

“Now, why would I do that?” He smirked. “Bad girls don’t get what they want, and you’ve been nothing but bad.” He noted, taking a step closer to you. “I love discovering your secrets, Gold Dust Woman. They’re always so much fun.” His tone dropped and he took a step towards you, backing you up onto the bed. When the backs of your knees collided with the mattress, you sat down and looked up at him. Your stomach was burning with desire; your anger still lingering, but almost completely overtaken by hunger for him. It did not take much for Jake to turn you into a mess for him, and seemed like it was his favourite thing to do.

“We can’t use sex to try and fix everything, Jake.” You fought it, but your retaliation was weak. You knew that sex with him could cure even the worst of ailments. It could turn dust into gold and even water into wine. Jake’s trade was sex, and he was the master of it. If you had doubt about anything, it surely wasn’t that. Worst of all, it was completely irresistible.

“I’m not trying to fix anything with sex, angel. I am fixing it, and I’m starting with your shitty attitude.” He explained, already expecting you to know that. “You’ve been sneaky, running around and trying to teach us something that we already know all about. You think this is fun for us? That we enjoy it?”

“N-no,” you shook your head, mouth practically watering at the idea of him. It had been so long since you had a moment alone with him that you almost forgot how enchanting he was.

“You really think that I’m doing this because it’s exciting, or because I get a thrill from stealing you from him?” You didn’t respond, because both of you knew that you had been feeling exactly that. “Am I really going to have to show you how much I care about you?” He mumbled to himself, admiring your face despite his distaste for your actions. “Before anything, I think I might need to remind you of who’s in charge, here. Seems like you forgot that you don’t get to speak to me like that.” With his free hand, he undid the buckle of his belt, smiling at the sight your face. He slowly slipped the leather from the loops of his jeans, carefully sitting it on the bed beside you, hoping to remind you of his love for using it. “Does that sound okay to you, sweetheart?”

“Yes, sir.” You said, willing to submit to him as an apology for your earlier actions. In your anger, you had thrown some hurtful accusations his way, one’s that weren’t anywhere near the truth. You were willing to stay in line as long as he didn’t push you too far.

“Good girl,” the small praise sent a rush of arousal through you. “You want some?” He questioned, lifting the bottle of whiskey into your line of vision. Almost as soon as the flame died down, he reignited it worse than it burned before.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking dog,” you snapped, your expression of excitement quickly twisting into a scowl. Unfortunately for you, Jake’s favourite pastime was pushing your buttons, but he wasn’t willing to stand the backtalk. He took his free hand and clasped your cheeks between his fingers, holding your mouth shut in a way much less than gentle.

“I can talk to you however I want, sweetheart.” He warned, eyes hard and lacking any sympathy. “I asked you a question. Do you want some of this?” He tried again, his words slow and impactful. Your gaze flickered from his face to the bottle, teeth grinding together in anger as you nodded your head. “Then open your fucking mouth.” He relaxed his grip on your face, allowing you to obey his command. With little hesitation, you slackened your jaw and parted your lips, expecting him to pour the liquid straight into your mouth. Instead, he brought the bottle to his own mouth, taking a sip and setting it down on the table again.

His lips upturned into a small smile when he looked down and saw your shocked expression. Despite not expecting it, you were intrigued by his intentions. He let his fingers slide down to your chin, tilting your head upwards and holding you in place. He leaned forward, close enough so he wouldn’t miss his target, but distant enough to deprive you of any other touch. Slowly, he let the liquid trickle from his lips into your mouth, neither of you moving until all of the whiskey was dancing around your own tongue. He closed your mouth for you, leaning down a bit further so his lips were ghosting over your own.

“Swallow,” he hummed, encouraging you a little. You did as he asked, feeling the warmth spread through your chest and settle in your stomach. “That’s my girl.” He spoke as his eyes fluttered closed. In appreciation for your obedience, he pulled you in for a kiss. The liquor was still potent on his skin, adding to the intoxicating feeling of kissing him. After all, Jake would not be so familiar if he lacked the scent of sandalwood laced with whiskey, and he would not be so familiar if you did not find yourself drunk off a single kiss. He pulled away, almost unwilling to part with you, but straightened up despite his dismay. “Stand up.”

You rose to your feet, head still spinning with the previous events and a growing ache between your legs that only he knew how to satiate. He cupped your cheek in his hand, drawing you into another kiss. As he did so, he slipped his jacket from your shoulders and discarded it on the floor. He let his hands rest on your hips just below the hem of your shirt, both of you growing more desperate with every second that passed. When he broke away, he took little time to pull your shirt over your head. The air was cool on your skin, but you knew it wouldn’t take long for him to warm you up again. With expert precision, he unbuttoned your jeans and allowed you to slide out of them.

He took a moment to admire you while you stood nearly fully exposed before him. “On the bed,” he ordered, fighting the urge to reach out and touch you. As much as you felt like you couldn’t resist him, he felt it for you a million times more. Jake was such a fool for you that his love for dominance meant little to nothing to him, and he would give it up in a heartbeat if he knew he could please you by doing so. You quickly turned, shuffling into the mattress with your back to him and got on your hands and knees. You knew him well enough to know how he wanted you, and he did not have the patience for you to ask him, anyway. He took a few steps towards you, his palm landing on your lower back in a sweet touch. He let his fingers drift over your skin, savouring the feeling of having you so intimately. His touch eventually landed on your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze before beginning his own tyrant.

“So, what is it, baby? What’s got you so worked up?” He asked, voice low and feigning concern. “Was it the girl at the concert?”

“Yeah,” you whispered, not sure why he was bringing her up, now. You thought you had made your point abundantly clear.

“You were jealous,” he noted, an air of cockiness in his voice. His hands were still dancing over your exposed skin, as if he was trying to familiarize himself with you again. “Right?”

“Yes,” you sighed, hating yourself for being so worked up over the incident.

“Because you thought she would get to have me like this?” His question seemed sincere, like he was genuinely trying to get to the bottom of the issue. “That I would treat her the same way I treat you?”

“I… yeah, I guess.” You admitted, feeling defeated and knowing there was no way out of this situation without explaining yourself. The whole reason you didn’t want to talk to him was not because you enjoyed being without him, but because you were terrible at explaining your feelings. You had no idea how to express your distaste for his actions, and you didn’t want to look like a fool trying to do so.

“Tell me how you feel, angel. I want to know.” He was coaxing the answer from you with sweetness, and when he had you in such a position, it wasn’t hard to do.

“Hurt,” you answered, but you both already knew that. It was the nights main topic. “It hurt seeing someone else touching you. It sucked seeing you touch someone else.”

“Mmm,” he urged you to keep going, thankful that you were finally able to speak without anger in your tone. “Because you want me all to yourself, don’t you?” He asked, slowly moving his hand between your legs.

“F-fuck, yes.” You stuttered, feeling his fingers locate your clit through the fabric of your underwear. “I do, Jake. I don’t want anyone else to have you.” At the delightful confession, he added a bit more pressure to his touch.

“See? It’s not so hard to say that, is it?” He hummed, pleased at your obedience.

“No,” you sighed, eyes fluttering closed as you spoke. “It’s scary, sometimes, trying to tell you how I feel.”

“Why, baby?”

“Because I care about you a lot.” The weight on your chest was lifting with every word you said. Jake knew how to get exactly what he wanted from you; all it took was a promise of his hands, and you would tell him the secrets of the universe. Sex with Jake had always been a motivator, but in this case, it had little impact on the overall discussion. You were exhausted from keeping everything locked up in your brain, and you wanted to tell him more than you wanted to keep it hidden. His touch was just encouragement, aiding you in your confession.

“You know I’d never touch anyone else like this.” He reminded. “I’d never treat anyone as good as I treat you.”

“I know,” you breathed, hoping that he would give you more than what he was already offering.

“So why accuse me of not caring, angel?” Your eyes opened, expression dropping as your stomach burned with anxiety. He wasn’t into the sweet confessional; he wanted you to repent for the hurtful words you said, and he wanted to punish you for even thinking them. “Do you think it’s fun to be a brat?” He furthered his question, tone growing stronger as he continued on. “That you can speak to me like that get away with it?”

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You did not feel the need to defend yourself; you had made your bed, and now it was time to lay in it. Your only hope was that he would find mercy for you if you showed enough remorse for your actions.

“You’re not sorry, sweetheart. You’d do it again if you had the chance, and that’s why I can’t let you get away with it.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he reached for the belt on the bed beside you. The metallic cling of the buckle sent a shiver of fear through your body, but you kept your position and bargained with the pleasure that was bound to come after the pain. “What was it that you called me?” He pretended to ponder, letting the cool leather dance over your skin to taunt you. “Remind me, again.”

“A self righteous prick.” You mumbled, eyes closed as you braced for impact.

��Right,” he nodded his head, as if it took great effort to recall your insults. “A self righteous prick who thinks he’s god, that cares too much about his image and only wants sex.” He listed off, showcasing that he remembered your words exceptionally well. “Does that sound familiar, or am I missing something?”

“No, that sounds right.” The shame in your voice was astounding, filling the room and weighing you both down.

“Still feel that way, angel?”

“No, sir.” You shook your head. The leather had now warmed to the same temperature as your skin after sitting idle for so long.

“I don’t think I believe you.” He tried to sound sympathetic, but he couldn’t hide the sadistic tone he so often used with you. He was enjoying watching you struggle, and he was going to enjoy everything that came after.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You tried again, but it was futile.

“That was four insults, if I’m counting correctly.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. “So… two for each, and two more just because you pissed me off. Ten… I think that’s fair. Do you, sweetheart?” You were in a predicament of fighting and risking further punishment, or agreeing and suffering without trying to defend yourself. “Does that sound okay?”

“Yes, sir.” You tried to hide your annoyance, but he could read you like a book, even if he was blinded and deafened.

“Remember your colours?”

“Yes.” You nodded, comforted by the thought of being able to stop if it became too much.

“I always loved the colour red on you.” He crooned, letting his hand run over the thin red lace concealing you. Your stomach settled at the gentle touch, wondering if he was going to be kind to you and change his mind. Just when you let your fears settle, the sharp sting of the belt sounded through the room. You let in a sharp gasp, the feeling catching you off guard and the pain quickly fizzling away. In his own way, he was being kind to you. The strength in which he hit you was nowhere near what he was capable of, and you knew that. He did not get off to the thought of you getting hurt, just to the idea of making you suffer a little bit.

You barely recovered from the pain before he lifted his hand and brought the leather down for another time. You held back a groan, not wanting to show any emotion at all until the punishment was through. “One down,” he said, encouraging you to keep going. His focus was on your ass, which was unfortunate for you to receive so many blows to the same place, but he was doing it for good reason. He didn’t want to risk any marks being visible in any stage clothes, and was aiming to keep your bedroom escapades away from the public eye to save you from any uncomfortable situations. It was thoughtful, but brutal all the same.

He wanted to draw out the experience, but the thought of leaving you without comfort for so long was nearly painful for him. He brought the belt down once more, the force more than he intended. You let out a hiss, flinching away from the contact in hopes to ease the sting. He brought his hand to your skin, letting his fingers drift over the red mark left behind. It was soothing, but barely, mostly because you knew he did not have enough sympathy for you to stop there. In truth, you did not expect him to. You were mean, and what you had said to him was not fair. Jake cared about you, and that was never something you should have questioned. Your emotions got the best of you, convincing you that you were less than what he truly thought you were worth.

When you showed signs of recovery, he wasted no time in striking again. The fourth was much gentler, but on top of the already irritated skin, seemed much more violent than it truly was. By the fifth one, your teeth were grinding together to keep yourself silent. By the sixth, tears were pooling in your eyes. You did not have faith in yourself to make it to the end, but you were not one to give up so easily. When he struck for the seventh time, it knocked the breath from your lungs and left your legs quivering. When the sting subsided, you let out a whimper of relief. The sound settled in his chest, prompting a feeling of guilt. “Have you had enough, or do you still feel that way?”

“N-no, I don’t. I’m sorry.” You rasped, tears rolling down your face. “M’so sorry, Jake.” The sincerity of your voice nearly brought him to his knees and he had to shake himself out of his thoughts to keep himself in character. With a clenched jaw, he raised his arm and brought the belt down to your skin once more. You let a raw cry out at the impact, the pain intense and the only thing you could focus on. He let the belt drop to the floor, finished with his mission and worried he pushed you too far. He moved to lay a hand on your skin again, hoping to soothe the ache. When you shied away from his touch, a wave of terror washed over him.

“Are you okay, baby?” He asked, his hand opting to find your hip rather than the red skin on your ass. You took in a shaky breath, propping yourself on your elbow as you tried to catch your breath.

“That was only eight.” You reminded. He cocked his head to the side, processing the statement with confusion. “You said ten.” He let out a small laugh, one filled with disbelief at your words.

“You want two more?” He asked, clarifying before moving on.

“No! I just… you said ten, and… yeah.” You trailed off, finally able to gather your thoughts as the ache began to fade.

“I think I’ve made my point.” He explained, prompting you to straighten up so you could look at him. “You did so well that I don’t believe you need two more.” He hid the truth, which was that he did not have the heart for two more. He thought he pushed you far enough, and the idea of giving you any type of lasting injury greater than superficial was sickening to him. “Come here,” he beckoned you towards him, guiding you into his lap. With great ease, he lifted you and settled you into his arms. You let your legs find home on either side of him, melting into the touch and almost forgetting the pain he had inflicted on you moments before. He let his hands settle on your hips, pulling you down just a little further in search of relief from the erection strained against his jeans. “I knew you could be good for me,” he mumbled, distracted by the closeness of your face and the friction of you against him. “It wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No,” you replied, also lost in his features. With him so close to you, nothing else existed. If it did, it was completely unimportant to you. He leaned forward, capturing you in a kiss too sweet to match the nights intensity. You brought a hand to his cheek, holding him to you as your other found his arm to keep yourself steady. Truthfully, it was just another excuse to touch him. With his hands on you, you had no fear of falling. Even if you doubted it, deep down you knew Jake would always be there to catch you.

He moved his hands to your back, unclasping your bra with ease. You loosened your grip on him so he could take it off. When it was discarded on the floor, he ran his thumb over your nipple. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, prompting you to grind your hips against him. He let out a low groan against your lips, parting with you to suck in a sharp breath. To cover his own desperation, he brought his lips back to you, peppering kissing down your cheek to your jaw and settling on your neck. He let his lips dance over the sensitive skin, careful not to leave behind any marks amidst his passionate endeavour. When he found that sweet spot he was searching for, you let out a shaky sigh as your arm wrapped around his neck. You let your fingers dance in his hair, uncaring of the unusual sweetness of the moment.

You let out a gasp, hips moving down on him again as he continued his work on your neck. In an automatic response, a growl sounded from him, showing his appreciation for your enthusiasm. He moved his fingers, forgoing his previous gentleness, and pinched your nipple between his fingers. A whimper fell from your lips, lighting a fire in him at the sound. His hand dropped from your breast, falling to your hip as his fingers dipped under the elastic of your underwear. Faster than you could comprehend, he gave a sharp pull and the lace easily broke away from your skin.

“Jake-“ you made a move to voice your discontent with his action, but he was already in motion, shifting to lay you down on the bed and settle between your legs.

“Shut up. I’ll buy you whatever you want to replace it.” He huffed, using his hand again to break the other side free. You were so eager for him to touch you that you couldn’t find the will to care about the fabric he had destroyed. The skin that he had wounded was stinging in reaction to the fabric of the blankets, but the pain was easily forgotten as he discarded the remains of your underwear on the floor and moved downward between your legs. He hooked his arms beneath your thighs and pulled you down on him, his mouth connecting with your cunt as he disregarded any more discussion.

You let out a moan, overwhelmed by the sudden change. His tongue moved quickly and with intent; he wasn’t eager to tease and was desperate to give you an orgasm, partially because he loved pleasing you, but mostly due to his desire to fuck you. Your hands found his hair, already needy enough to pull on the strands as encouragement for him to keep going. He hummed against you, almost smiling at your crazed reaction. He knew what he did to you, and he was intending to prove a point.

“Fuck, Jake.” You whimpered, almost unsure of what to do with yourself. The pleasure from his simple work was unexplainable, and you were on the brink of insanity from his tongue alone. Just the same as the first night, you had yourself convinced that Jake was a simple reincarnation of the devil. Put on this earth in a mortal body to inflict suffering on others, but most specifically you. It was hard to feel remorseful about your entanglement when a simple touch from him alone could outshine any other existing thing in the universe. Evil was coursing through his veins, and you were the prey he chose to take for his own. Even so, it was hard to feel like prey when every touch he graced you with was blissful, and it was hard to recognize you were dying when the descent was so pleasant.

Sinful was not a powerful enough word for what Jake was doing to you; it was godless, and you feared that a human being could not house power over another like he had on you. As a whole, he was iniquitous. His advantage over others was unfair, and he chose to use it for evil. But, you were in no position to point a finger, because your enjoyment left you just as criminal as him. You could shame Jake for his unrighteous acts, but you knew that you were no better simply for allowing it to continue.

You had become the boy who cried wolf, denouncing him for placing you amidst the painful battle, but you were no better for allowing him access to you despite its disastrous effects. It was no longer believable that he was causing you any harm because you were so willing to accept his invitations.

He added his fingers to you, driving you closer to a climax instantly. Your hips moved in search for more, and every time you thought he was unable to provide, he managed with ease. Your abdomen ached from your tensed muscles and your stomach was burning in hopes for a release. “Oh god, Jake, I’m gonna cum.” You warned, forehead glistening with sweat from the intensity of the feeling. You noticed his hips grinding into the mattress as he worked, desperate for relief, too. The knowledge of his enjoyment from giving you pleasure was a driving force, sending your already exhausted body into a frenzy. He couldn’t verbally encourage you, so he hoped his focus was enough to let you know that it was okay, and that it was exactly what he needed from you.

The orgasm washed over you like a storm of emotion, the relief alone enough to bring you to tears again. Your muscles were tense, your lungs depraved of oxygen as you cried his name. He didn’t slow until he was certain he had given you the absolute most he could. When your legs relaxed and your body fell limp onto the mattress again, he tapered his movements until he eventually pulled away from you completely.

He caught his breath, wiping away the remnants of your orgasm from his chin. His eyes studied your face, trying to memorize every detail so he could relive the moment later. In a soft touch, his hands drifted over your thighs and all the way up to your stomach, the featherlight sensation sending a shiver down your spine. He moved back up your body, unable to resist the urge to kiss you again. You drew him closer to you, hoping that you could hold him there and exist in the blissful cloud forever. He revelled in the touch only for a moment before rising to his feet again. His eyes drifted over the table on your bedside, taking note of all the items on the surface. He adjusted himself in his jeans as he reached out for one.

Your initial thought was the whiskey, but when his hand surpassed the bottle, you pulled yourself from the euphoria in attempt to comprehend his thoughts. His fingers settled on the keycard to your room, in which he picked up and slid between his fingers, flashing it in your line of sight so you could see what he had grabbed. You sat up, fear striking you similar to the first night you shared with him. “You’re leaving?” You asked, worry evident in your tone.

“Oh, now you want me to stay?” He teased, a smirk playing on the corner of his lips. “I’ll be back, Gold Dust Woman.” He assured you, but did not lean forward for any further touch. “I want you exactly like this when I get back. Do you understand?” You managed a small nod, wondering when his return would be. Knowing Jake, he could have meant five minutes, or five hours. His air of mystery was constant, and he did not like disturbing it.

“Yes, sir.” You said, eyes never leaving him. At your confirmation, he stepped towards the exit of the room. You opened your mouth to stop him, but no words came out. Instead, you watched him slip through the doorway and into the hall without any further explanation. The lock clicked shut behind him, and he disappeared as if he never existed in the first place. The deafening silence in the room was too much to bear, and the lack of company was crushing. The only reminder of his presence was the lingering tingle on your skin from the ghost of your orgasm.

You watched the door, the seconds passing by slowly, and your hope fizzling away with each minute that went by. You looked around the room, noticing only his jacket and belt on the floor, but no other reminders of him. There was nothing worth coming back for, aside from you. You had to find faith that you were worth the return, and it proved to be a struggle. You weren’t bound to the bed, nor the room. You could freely dress yourself and wander after him to discover where he was headed to. The idea was tempting, but there was a prickling fear of him coming back to find you away from the spot he was so keen on you staying in. Knowing Jake, you thought it best to stay and hope he was being genuine.

By minute five, the unsettling feeling was taking over. You could feel it in your bones, the fear of him returning to his room and going to bed. Although horrible, you did feel like the treatment would not be unwarranted. You had put him through hell that night, and you were unsure if you would ever be able to make up for it. When all hope was lost and the minute counter reached double digits, you collapsed onto the pillows in a heap of regret for your actions. Your chest ached with remorse and your heart was breaking at the memory of his pain stricken features. Before you descended too far into your own despair, the electronic click of the lock sounded, and the door opened once more.

Jake stepped inside, a styrofoam cup in his hand and a smile on his face. “Hi, angel.” He greeted you as if he had not left you in a complete state of disarray. He immediately noticed the relief on your face, finding his ego return at the knowledge that you wanted his company. “What’s wrong? Did you really think I’d leave you here like this?” He asked, tone dripping with fake concern.

“You? Never.” You managed a smile and a small laugh. He got a chuckle out of your comment too, ensuring that the door was shut tightly before returning to the bedside. Your eyes landed on the cup, curious as to what he felt was so important that he had to leave to retrieve.

“You knew I’d come back, sweetheart. Still have a point to prove, remember?” He reminded, looking down at you as he spoke. His eyes drifted over your naked body, the sight almost sending him feral. His composure was hanging by a thread, and you didn’t even have to do anything to worsen it. He sat the cup on the table alongside the keycard, but instead of climbing into bed with you again, he pulled his shirt over his head. You let out an audible sigh of satisfaction, thankful that he still had some kindness left in his heart for you. You peered inside the styrofoam, noticing nothing but ice. You looked back to him, dumbfounded only for a moment before realizing why he had left. The ice was not to chill any refreshments; it was just another thing for him to terrorize you with.

When he freed himself from the rest of his clothes, he dipped his fingers into the cup and pulled out a single ice cube. You settled back on the mattress, inviting him in. He took to the bed, finding himself back in his earlier position with ease. He gently laid the ice cube on your stomach, looking up at you with a smile. “Are you starting to remember how much I care, angel?”

“Yeah,” you breathed, focused mostly on the frigid feeling on your skin. He let out a low chuckle at your response. Instead of replying, he lowered his mouth to your stomach, just above where the ice was slowly beginning to melt from the heat of your body. He brought his tongue to the droplets, slowly running it over the skin to rid you of the water. You took in a sharp breath, the feeling of warmth from his mouth offsetting the chill from the ice almost immediately.

With ease, he slowly ran the ice up your torso. The cold was a shock, but quickly soothed with his tongue. When he reached just below your chest, he scooped the ice into his mouth and brought his lips to your nipple. He pulled it into his mouth, letting the ice sit on you before he made any further moves. The chill sent your back arching off the bed, an involuntary reflex that was prompted by the sensation. Once your nipple was hard, he began moving his tongue. A whine sounded from your throat as he continued, the feeling completely new and exciting. He continued on until the ice was a distant memory and your skin was warm once more.

When he pulled back, a shaky breath left your lips. He looked up, pleased at your expression. He gave you a smile, happy that you seemed to enjoy the change in pace. “Did you like that, beautiful?” Such a sweet name send your morals crashing down, no further care about your fight before finding yourselves in the position. You never seemed to catch any softness from Jake during sex, and when you did, it was earth shattering. The high energy and excitement was fantastic, but when you saw love dancing in his eyes, it reminded you of a whole different side of Jake you wished you could know.

“Yeah,” you said, but your focus was not on his words. You both seemed to be caught in a staring contest, clinging to the adoration in each others gaze in hopes to discover what had been so often left unsaid. “Can I try?” He laughed at your question, suddenly overtaken by the soft spot he held for you.

“If you want to.” The glimmer in his eye was so different than what you had seen from him before. It was one that was begging you to let him keep you like this for the rest of his life, and it was beautiful. Jake was not trying to prove he cared for you through rough sex and orders; he was doing the opposite, something you least expected of him. He was showing you himself to you completely, in the most intimate way possible.

“Okay, lay down.” You giggled, playfully shoving him off of you. He dramatically fell to the side of you, collapsing on the bed in a heap of laughter as he did. Dominance was natural to him, but vulnerability wasn’t. It was his last opportunity to show you how much you truly meant to him, and he was going to do whatever it took to make you understand. He assumed your position, nestled in the pillows and watching you experiment with him.

You grabbed your own ice cube, placing it between your lips as you watched him. Instead of bringing it to his body, you approached him for kiss. With surprise, he accepted the offer and snaked his hand to your hip, guiding you towards him. It was messy, both of you passing the melting ice back and fourth with little grace, but it was right. It felt right to be so careless with him, not needing to worry if he thought you were making a fool of yourself, and not worrying if he was enjoying himself. Both of you were having a grand time, and it was solely because you were in each other’s company. When the ice landed back in your mouth, almost melted but still hanging on, you moved away from him. He almost seemed disappointed at the loss of contact, but the drunken haze of desire in his eyes told you he was excited for your next move, too.

You sank down on the mattress, laying on your stomach between his legs while giving him a sweet smile. The breath caught in his throat, hoping that you were going to do what he thought you were. You lowered your head, bringing your hand to him as you brought your mouth to his cock. He let out a shaky breath, unfamiliar with the feeling of letting someone else be in control. You brought the ice to the tip of your tongue and ran it from the base of his cock to the tip, slow and steady with your pace. His eyes fluttered closed, the sensation completely foreign yet enjoyable, mostly because it was you that was doing it. You repeated the action a few times until the ice has melted completely. Once it did, you brought your mouth to the tip and slowly began bobbing your head down on him. You kept your focus there for a moment, attempting to show him that slow could sometimes be better. He would never admit it, but in that moment he would have agreed with you.

He let out a sigh, his small way of telling you that he thought you were doing a great job. Once the feeling of him in your mouth became familiar again, you picked up the pace a bit. To him, the speed was still agonizingly slow compared to what he was used to, but he was willing to allow you to lead the way. He reached down and gathered your hair in his hand, keeping it away from your face as you worked at him. As you relaxed your jaw and took him further, your eyes fluttered up to meet his. The eye contact was almost too much for him; he thought he might finish at the sight alone. In fear of the moment ending, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow to stop the impending orgasm. He tightened his grip on your hair, thrusting his hips upwards gently to meet the time of your mouth.

You focused on steadying your breathing, and then made your attempt to take his full length. When the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat, he let out a groan, one that was surely the most heavenly sound you had ever heard in your entire life. You felt him twitch in your mouth, an obvious sign that he was close. If it were up to you, you would have let him finish, but he used his hand in your hair to pull you off of him. “Is that your way of saying sorry?” His chest heaved for breath as he asked the question. You looked to him, fearful that he was not enjoying the moment as much as you were. When he saw the fear dancing in your eyes, he was quick to speak again. “Because it’s working.” He added, settling your anxiety. “Come here.” He released the hold on your hair, beckoning you towards him. You moved upwards, straddling him again. He held your hips up as he shuffled upwards too, resting his back against the headboard of the bed. “You never fail to amaze me, Gold Dust Woman.” He hummed, raising a hand to your cheek in a soft embrace. You leaned into the touch, reaching down to line him up with you.

“Sometimes I feel like I exist just to please you.” You admitted, sinking down on him as a soft moan left your lips.

“If you do, you’re doing a fantastic job.” He assured you, pulling your upper half down towards him. You rested your forehead on his as you began to rock your hips. “But you exist for far more than that, angel.” He didn’t even care about the slow pace, nor the lack of control. He was so focused on loving you that he could almost forget that he was fucking you. He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, letting his eyes drift over the soft details of your face. “You have no idea how important you are, y/n. This world exists just so you can live in it.” Normally, the profound emotions he was displaying would have sent you running, terrified of intimacy and vulnerability. Deep down, you knew that running was not a question anymore. You were in this until the end, and any ideas of having a fair shot at control was just not true. Jake and Sam were always in charge, running the show how they pleased and with little care. Even so, all the pain no longer mattered, because you were in love. So deeply and unconditionally in love with them that it was almost impossible to comprehend. So in love that it was impossible to communicate it, because words did not amount to anything close to what you were feeling.

“Do you see it, yet?” He asked, helping you move your hips. “Do you feel how much I care for you?”

“I do, Jake.” You nodded against him, the verbal confirmation not seeming like it was enough. “I’m sorry for questioning it. I never should have doubted you.” You said, feeling like your heart was going to explode. “I hope you can see that I feel the same way.”

“Say it, Gold Dust Woman.” He pleaded, fingers digging into the skin of your hips. “I need to hear it.”

“Jake,” you warned, knowing that you were both treading dangerous waters.

“Please, y/n. I can’t be the one to say it first, because it won’t mean anything if I do.” You had never seen or heard Jake so desperate for anything in your entire time of knowing him. “If you feel it, just say it. We’ve already said it a million different ways, just not like this. It’s not as scary as it seems, and I swear to you that I’ll keep it safe.” Your heart felt like it was breaking, yet mending all at the same time. He was right, you had said it in every way except for direct, and you were scared of something you had been feeling since the beginning.

“I love you, Jake.” You whispered, opening your eyes to look at him. He looked up at you, gaze clouded with an unfamiliar emotion. If you looked close enough, you would have noticed the gloss of tears shining under the adoration. “I love you.” You said it again, stronger than the last. “I love you so much that it hurts. I don’t know how to love someone, or what it even means, but I know that I feel it for you, and I have for a long time.”

“I love you, Gold Dust Woman.” You both opted to ignore the shaking of his voice. He moved forward, slinking his arms around you as he pulled you into a hug. You wrapped your own around his neck, holding on to him with the same fervour. He moved so he could lay you down on the mattress, shifting so he was between your legs again. It was his favourite place to be, and even more so now that the weight of the confession had been lifted off your chests. As if he’d turned feral once again, he guided your leg around him and took over control once more. He thrusted into you with more power than before, the feeling eliciting a moan from your lips.

He only continued on his pace for a few moments before his attention was drawn elsewhere. His eyes scanned the room, shining with mischief as they settled on the sliding door to the balcony. “Do you trust me?” He looked back to you with a wicked smile.

“Of course I do,” you gasped, feeling the tip of his cock brush against your cervix.

“I have an idea,” he announced, slowing his hips to a stop. You let out a groan at that loss of movement, unsure if you were willing to go along with his plan if it meant you had to stop. “Come on,” he said, drawing back from you and making a move to stand. You watched him in confusion, but sat up and slid off the bed anyway.

“What are we doing?” You asked as he helped you stand.

“You told me you loved me, Gold Dust Woman.” He reminded. “I think that calls for a celebration.” He guided you towards the doors, using his free hand to slide it open.

“Jacob, absolutely not.” You recoiled, staring at the dark balcony with wide eyes.

“Oh come on, angel. Where’s your sense of adventure?” He smirked.

“What if someone sees us?” Your voice was shrill, terrified at the thought of being caught.

“Just means I get to show the world how much I love you.” He said, the smirk growing into a smile. You watched him in disbelief, unsure if he was even being serious. “Get out there, sweetheart.” He ordered, the flash of dominance returning to his lust clouded pupils.

“I don’t want to get caught.” You shook your head, but still found yourself admiring his beauty in the dimly lit room. You were certain that he had the power to convince you to jump from a cliff if he looked at you for long enough.

“Then you better keep quiet and cum fast.” He was no longer willing to debate the topic, watching you with expecting eyes. You knew the softness would not last long, but you had no idea that it was turn into a show of exhibitionism. He gave you a look of warning, to which you couldn’t deny. You stuck your head out of the door, noticing that none of the other patios seemed to be occupied. Next, you looked to the ground, noticing the minimal movement below. The world was quiet, and there was no better time to explore pleasure like such. With a deep breath and an air of blind confidence, you stepped out into the night, the cool air stinging your warm skin.

He followed, seeming barely concerned about your surroundings. He let his hands slip to your hips, giving you a small comfort in knowing that if you were going to be caught, he would have to take the fall with you. “See? You’re okay.” He assured you, mouth hovering over your ear. You gave a small nod, allowing him to guide your upper half down and pull your hips back towards him. You gripped the rail of the balcony with your hands to keep yourself steady, feeling himself line himself up with you. “If you want to stop, just tell me.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling a bit more comfortable than you were when you first emerged. With a hand on your shoulder, he pulled you back on him, letting out a small sigh of relief. Once he knew you were steady in your position, he brought both hands to your hips to hold you in place as he began thrusting. Your eyes were begging to close, lulled by the ecstasy of feeling him inside you, but your mind would not allow it. You were on edge, nervous about someone seeing you, but the more he fucked into you, the less you cared.

You let a moan slip past your lips, quickly silencing yourself with hope that it went unnoticed. “That’s my girl,” he purred, ecstatic at your enjoyment. “Do you like being a little whore for me?” His voice was low, but it was loud and clear to you. It settled deep in your stomach, the beginning of the tightening knot.

“God, yes.” You whispered, the anxiety fleeing you indefinitely.

“Feel so fucking good, angel.” He took a sharp intake of breath, likely cutting off his own sounds of pleasure. He slipped his hand around to the front of you, quickly finding your clit with his fingers. The added stimulation from the circles he was tracing were means of torture. He knew that it would be impossible to stay silent, and he was being an asshole on purpose. He sped his hips, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the empty air. If there was anyone below, it would not be difficult to imagine what was happening above. He increased the pressure of his touch, hoping that he would either coax an orgasm from you, or at least pry another moan out of you.

You clenched your jaw, holding back as much as you could, but every so often a noise too strong to hold back would surface and cut through the silence. He felt you clench around him, a sure sign that you were close, and he wasn’t one to miss an opportunity. He slammed his hips into you, quickening the movement of his fingers. You were lightheaded, mind swirling with plenty of thoughts but none that made any sense. “Cum on my cock, baby.” He muttered, encouraging you to let go. You didn’t need the help, because the knot in your belly had let go. You legs were shaking and you could barely hold yourself up. He used his hand to cover your mouth, ensuring that you could ride out your orgasm without worry. When you began to descend from the euphoria, you expected him to slow, too. Instead, he continued on his brutal pace, not ready to end the night just yet. “Give me one more, sweetheart.”

“I can’t, Jake.” You whimpered, trying to keep yourself silent. The more he moved, the less control you had over yourself.

“You can,” he promised. The irritating sensation from his fingers was overtaking every other feeling in your body, the overstimulation begging to break your psyche. “Be good for me,” he continued with his gentle words, knowing that if you didn’t let go soon, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Your body was on fire with everything he had put you through that night, and his wish was not hard to comply with. Even though the feeling of his fingers seemed like too much, you couldn’t deny the pull of pleasure underneath the discomfort.

“Fuck,” you croaked, the insatiable sting finally overwhelming your body in a moment of weakness.

“That’s it, sweet girl.” He sighed, feeling you descend into another climax. He was most concerned with holding your body upright, so he had to forgo silencing you with his palm. You were too far gone to care about keeping yourself quiet, the fear obsolete next to the pleasure he was giving you. In a mess of curses and sweaty bodies, you came down from the high with stars dancing in your eyes. When he felt you relax against him, he finally allowed himself to let go, spilling into you as he echoed your name into the night. He fucked his release into you a few times before pulling away, just as a final note to end the night with. He heaved a sigh, coming back to reality and realizing the obscene display you were in. “Come on, angel. Let’s get you inside.”

You let him lead you back into the hotel room, body and mind exhausted from the high energy the night held. You both cleaned up, minds begging for sleep, but found that your hearts were aching just a little less than before. Jake pulled on his boxers, lazily throwing his shirt to you while he did so. “Are you staying?” You looked up at him, hope gleaming through the exhaustion.

“Of course I am, baby.” He said as if the question were blasphemous. You slid under the covers, making room for him to get in beside you. Once he was settled, he pulled you into his arms.

“I’m sorry, Jake. I never should have said that stuff.”

“I am, too.” The apologies were minimal, but stronger than they appeared. You closed your eyes, settling your head on his chest and listening to the lull of his heartbeat. “Can you say it again?” He asked, voice quiet and barely breaking through the night.

“That I’m sorry?” You asked, wondering what he meant.

“No,” he mumbled. When you realized what he wanted to hear, your heart warmed at the thought of him wanting to hear it again. All of your fears of rejection, the fear of intimacy and vulnerability was no longer important. From the sound of his voice alone, you knew that his need to know you cared was far more important than your attempts at protecting yourself.

“I love you, Jake.”

And there it was; the statement so heavy that it had tantalized you for months, slipping past your lips like the easiest thing you had ever said. It was true, and it was so exhilarating to finally speak aloud.

But even so, as exciting as the proclamation was, it did not hinder you from falling into the same patterns as you had before. If anything, it did nothing but make it all the more painful.

You better put your kingdom up for sale

TAGLIST: @itsdannysworld @gretavansara @jaketlove @laneygvf @freefallthoughts @psychedelicsprinkles @idontwannabeherenow @joshysgirl @sanguinebats @objectsinspvce @klarxtr @sinarainbows @jakesmustache @gvfpal

[hhighkey]

Decode // Chapter Thirteen, Blossoming Verities

Dracule Mihawk (opla) x OC (female)

Rating: mature

Story Contains: live action characters, related and non-related one piece plots, unspecified religion, OC is a nun on sabbatical, trauma, violence, age gap (40 v 23), insecurities and self doubts, possessive / protective behavior, kidnapping, true loves, eventual smut

Masterlist

-

Darkness. She could not see. Thick tendrils swarmed her as her limbs flailed, as she tried to swim upwards. Cold water pushed into her lungs as her head spun, as her lungs felt like they were exploding. Panic was all she could feel. A lone, empty type of ache and struggle. Eyes. She could feel them on her as she prayed to escape as her limbs started to give out. Just prayed as she began to sink into the liquid shadows; but a sudden splurge and she seemingly found a second wind. On her own. And finally, a sparkle of light gleamed through as her very own north star. 

Her throat was hoarse when she tried to call out Mihawk’s name, gingerly trying to touch him with her trembling fingertips. 

Sabine was positive that it was him who sat at her side, eyes closed as his head rested against a fist. Her vision was blurry at best, as if her eyelids had been glued shut from how she had to pry them open. Disoriented, body feeling as if it’d been thrown from a boat and hit the waves too hard. But amidst the dull ache in her head, in her limbs, there was also an overwhelming sense of relief. Relief that she was waking up in bed not in that dreadful manor, but with Mihawk by her side and that he’d come for her. 

It hurt to breathe as memories came back to her- the knife that plunged into her side. There’s bandages as she touched along her abdomen, feeling the fabric of the wrappings, showing it wasn’t a passing dream. She shuddered remembering how it felt to have the dive within her, how blood drained from it and it made her head woozy. It was a sickening feeling and one she tried to shake off, tried to breathe, swallow down her fears because she was alive. It was over. 

“Mihawk.” She rasped out, mouth dry, once more attempting to reach for him. 

This time his eyes snapped open, body awake as he regained his surroundings in a record speed. Warmth. It was all she could see written on his face as he looked at her. Such care plastered in his actions as he moved his chair closer, took her hand into his own and carefully cupped her left cheek with his other. Dilated pupils, parted lips, the faintest of pink dusting his cheek bones as he let out a deep shuddered breath, clearly relieved. 

No words were shared as their gazes connected and wicked sparks dazzled around them. A sense of comfort relayed between them with no words needed, content to be back with the other. 

“How did you..?” Sabine finally broke their silence as sudden panic alighted in her chest as more came back to her, “The other girl, Eve, where is she?”

“Marines took her for medical care. Giorgio is dead.”

Giorgio is dead. She swallowed hard, a mixture of confusion and solace came over her. It was if a piece of her was allowed to fly free, she was pounds lighter, the weight of her failures lifted, “I can’t believe… I’m glad, in a way.” A loss for words she found herself at. Like it was almost unbelievable. 

“It’s over. You have every right to feel the way you do.”

But it wasn’t all about her though, was it? She wasn’t the only one impacted. In a way she could argue she never bore the brunt of the pain Giorgio caused.“Do you know if.. Is she- Eve okay?” 

“I imagine so. Her injuries were less immediate than yours. I’m sure the Marines will help her get back on her feet.”

She nodded, thoughts still racing as she could recall them, “Did you.. Also see the girl in the basement?”

“No, but I heard about her after.” His stomach sourced at the thought of what Sabine had seen down there. He heard whilst the doctor was working on Sabine that multiple marines got sick from the sight, the blood and tools. Which meant her eyes should never have had to see it, it angers him. 

“Help me sit up?”

Mihawk helped Sabine as she let out a pained huff, face contorted with a flash of pain. He was gentle with her, careful where he placed his hands, and careful as he resituated the pillows behind her. He did not mind as she clung to him with extra strength behind the hold, barely using her own muscles to assist him. Like she was a doll he had to support her fully and he saw the shame in her tired eyes.

Her bottom lip quivered, fingers grasping his shirt, “You won’t leave, will you?” 

Taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Mihawk adjusted the shoulders of her gown and tentatively brushed back stray pieces of her hair. He wanted to be closer. Wanted to scoop her into his arms and hold her, take in her scent and the feeling of her skin. So close to losing her, the doctor had said she almost lost too much blood. 

“No. Not until you wish me to.” 

“Then I’m afraid we’ll never be apart.” Sabine gave her best smile, even if it was barely a sluggish half grin. But it still made Mihawk’s heart flutter, his insides shuddering with pleasure. 

“I apologize… For not getting to you sooner, not knowing I was drawn away as a diversion.” For Mihawk, apologies were rare on his tongue, almost difficult to say. But his emotions towards feeling like a failure for not protecting her elicited the apology, he’d needed to get it out. Needed her to know he felt awful.

“Don’t. It’s not your fault or mine. Giorgio told me his attempt to draw you away took lots of planning and details for execution, that it tired him- something like that. Does it have to do with haki? But either way, he knew how tough an opponent you would be, and was mad at me for bringing you. But then he just left, had that disgusting puppet follow me, it… Tried to kill me.” Tears pricked her eyes, words spilling out, “And that girl in the basement, I could barely breathe. How could someone do that?” 

“Sabine…” A sadness to his eyes, his chest deflated before he took in another breath. The cogs in his head churned furiously.

“I know, you don’t need to tell me. His victims started to look like me, I’m guessing that’s on your mind, I noticed it in the basement.”

He sighed as he positioned himself closer, taking her hands into his to relish her touch. Soft skin littered with goosebumps that trailed along each place he touched. Her presence seeped deep into his bones and his for her. Intricate, intertwining vines that scoured through one another’s veins, nerves, bodies. Rooting so deep, making it so it would be impossible to part, impossible to tug from the depths of where their connection sprouted from. That the necessities for a plant to be nurtured to grow big and strong (sun and water), every second Mihawk and Sabine had shared from Baratie to this wretched Isle in search of her answers- was that very food. Was what allowed them to grow. 

“None of it was your fault.” Mihawk knew the girl in front of him well enough to know she’d find a way to blame herself, “Giorgio attached himself to you because you were the closest person to figuring him out a year ago even if you didn’t realize it. He could have latched onto anyone else he deemed a worthy adversary to his… way of life.”

“You mean his brutal torture basement, killing hobby.”

“Yes.” He cracked a smile, “Simply put.” 

“And I know that… I mean he was odd during our time together,” She shuddered thinking back to the wine, to Giorgio’s unsettling behavior, “Gods I never want to think about him again.” 

“Then don’t, for now. Let yourself rest.” 

She could only smile at that, her chest fluttering as she lolled her head against the bed’s headboard. Looking at Mihawk with stars in her eyes, a heavy contentment to be in this moment with him built. 

How long had she slept? She was still exhausted, feeling burdened physically and mentally. Like she was living in a fog, her eyelids began to flutter closed, heavier. 

“Don’t let me sleep.” She mumbled, words beginning to slur. 

Mihawk said he wouldn’t allow her to drift off, but if she’d seen his face she’d have known that was a lie. He shifted so he sat beside her on the bed, letting her head fall to his shoulder. ‘Out just as quick as she had awoken,’ it made him chuckle. 

His heart wrenched in his ribcage as he watched her sleep looking so peaceful. How cute she was as she’d nuzzled further into him murmuring faint nothings. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back for much longer, he gently laid her back down. Sleeping whilst propped up was not proper. And the longer she lay against him, the more likely he was to cave. To cave into the raging emotions and incessant reverberating that was the desire- endearment- love he felt towards her. 

The following days meshed together as the doctor who patched her up wanted to watch over her for a while. And she was more than happy to lounge around all day, resting and being waited on. Cardinal Joseph came by plenty, Eve had visited as she was staying down the hall- all the while, Mihawk didn’t leave. Sabine already began to dread their parting. She knew, as the air turned stale and the time ticked forward, the conversation would be coming. For Sabine still had months remaining and she knew Nami would be getting impatient while waiting for a call. It was overdue. 

Tears came down thickly. Sabine felt ridiculous as she carefully wiped them from her puffy eyes. Ridiculous for crying, for blubbering, for ruining her freshly applied makeup. There’d be no recovering it, especially as she stood at the docks.

Mihawk said he’d stay until the Going Merry arrived for her. Sabine insisted he leave first. 

So it was their time to say goodbye, but with the knowledge there’d be a future meeting. A future meeting that could be their final, or the beginning to a fantastic unknown between them. How Sabine wanted to smash her lips up onto his, to pull him down by the neck and tangle her fingers through his brown hair. She wanted to feel his hands on her as he held her, showed her his emotions, and hoped he’d decide to not let her go. But Mihawk would not do that. He was noble in the sense he respected her and wanted the best for her (not in how he carried himself on the sea, she was sure). 

His thumb swiped along her flushed cheeks, wiping away stray tears. The time Sabine had with him she could see the moroseness on his features, the stalled breath as he stared deep into her. Before, she would have thought him emotionless. It tugged at her heart strings, her lower lip trembled. 

How vividly similar this moment was to the one they shared at Baratie, as Zoro bled out and Mihawk was leaving. How he kissed her forehead, bidding her words that she’d never forget. 

He did that again, now. Mihawk’s lips on her forehead burned, pink flushed her cheeks and neck. Goosebumps swarmed her skin. Butterflies swam in her stomach and Sabine thinks the love clawing and expanding within her chest might just kill her. Love. 

Sabine won’t tell him that she loves him, it’d be cruel to do to them both. Knowing she’d have one final chance at the end of her sabbatical quenched the need within her to spit it out. This didn’t feel like last time in the sense of goodbyes, she’d been confused and scared about Mihawk. Now, she was certain in her feelings and trust in him. 

“I will see you soon.” He spoke low, every one of his muscles twitching to grab her and leave. To keep her close. It took all his willpower not to, especially how her eyes glittered with emotion for him. 

“I would hope so. Wait… How will you know-”

“Don’t worry.” Those were his last words for her as he kissed her hairline, lips lingering.

Mihawk’s aura eventually was gone. His presence that had seeped deep into her bones, coursed through her veins had left the Island. And it hurt. Sabine wallowed in grief for him as her body screamed in metaphorical pain for him to come back, that she’d been foolish to send him away first. 

Minutes- maybe hours passed before Sabine could get ahold of herself, could finally stop the tears. With the height of the sun in the sky, she knew she still had more time before the Going Merry would dock. With that time she’d tie up loose ends with Cardinal Joseph then gather her things from the hotel. It was a solid plan, but one she dreaded all together. 

Sabine wandered back through the city, to the familiar gates and then architecture of the church Cardinal Joseph would be. But she moved lethargically, as if she were a ghost lost and looking for a way out of this plane of existence. She needed silence in a peaceful, holy place that would allow her to quell her worries to think. And think she needed to do. Because the end of her sabbatical would be upon her and no time and avoiding that fact any longer would only hurt her in the long run. It was time to properly sort out her emotions and the past, to come to terms with herself. 

-

The second Sabine boarded the Going Merry, she was met by familiar faces she didn’t realize how much she had missed. Her name was yelled from the deck and before she knew it she was wrapped up in embraces. Sabine was almost certain based on how tight Luffy and Usopp hugged her, she’d have popped out her skin. She winced in pain due to their excitement putting her body through some unneeded action. 

“Ah, let’s be careful.” She tried to smile, not wanting anyone to worry. She was older than all of them! It was her job in some sense to appear the most stable, or complete. While she couldn’t take care of them in fights, she wanted to be seen as capable on other fronts. So her cheeks begin to heat with pink, she didn’t want to immediately inform them of her escapades that almost led to her death. 

“Are you hurt?” Luffy asked in terror as he saw the way she stiffened and hand shot to her lower abdomen. 

“Maybe.”

Next she knew she was surrounded by the crew and bombarded with questions. Sabine wasn’t sure where to start precisely, it felt like a momentous task to explain now that it was over, now that Sabine could look at everything through a lesser emotional lens. 

“I’ll just start from the beginning, the easiest thing to do.”

And she did, the proper beginning really. 

They group settled below deck around the dining area in the kitchen. Filled with nerves for a reason she didn’t understand, she began to explain the events that led to her arrival at the Monastery, her mother and father. She talked of her struggle with faith after events with the Deacon, talked about the job that sent her to Angelica Island because of a supposed demon taking lives. Then the nightmares. And then, she told them of her last few weeks; Mihawk and Giorgio. It was a relief to tell them, to talk about her disconnect from what she once believed, and how grateful she was to be back with him. Thankful. Sabine felt lighter by the minute, even with a dull ache beneath her bandages, comfort coursed through her. 

Zoro made a face, “So Mihawk was here?”

“Kidnapped?” Sanji’s mouth dropped. 

“We parted for a few weeks and you almost died!” 

“Hey at least there wasn’t an actual demon.” Usopp added, “That would be freaky.” 

Sabine let out a faint giggle at their concerned comments, the horrified and semi confused faces. In that moment she wasn’t worried about her ending sabbatical or the fact she experienced multiple traumatic events. As much as her soul yearned for Mihawk, wished she could reach out and touch him, she was glad to be back on the ship. Fondness glittered in her eyes as she leaned back into her seat. The faces of these five helped her further the resolve that churned within her. Now all that was left was to wait; enjoy the following weeks.  

-

posted: september 2 2024

taglist : @zzbloody-animezz @honeybeezgobzzzzz @mythical-goth @iraaiitz @moonmaiden1996 @gizamalblythe @anonymousewrites

[asirensrage]

there's a heaven above you (don't you cry) - Part 14

Rating: M Pairing: Lost Boys/OC Fandom: The Lost Boys Warnings: violence, arson, swearing, breaking and entering, sex…

Summary: The thing no one ever tells you about time travel is that you don’t have any control over where you end up or when you leave. It just happens. It also hurts like a bitch. Notes: This will be a poly pairing, so if you’re not into that, don’t read. It’s not beta-read so I hope you’ll forgive me but enjoy!

previous/masterlist also on ao3 and ffn

Chapter 14: Don't Get Mad, Get Even

Now that she had forgiven the vampires, Darcy had a feeling she was never going to get rid of them. It was bad enough when she first met the men. Now that she was actually letting them in, she was pretty sure she might have to spray them with a hose filled with holy water to keep them away. 

“What happened to you?” 

She looked up to see Clark walking into the store. “What do you mean?” 

His face scrunched up like he didn’t want to answer. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

Darcy grinned. “You sure?”

“Very. I just came by to warn you that those surf assholes are looking for you.” 

Darcy sat up straight. “Me?”

“Yeah. They’re saying you're the reason their place burned down. You and one of those bikers.” 

She didn’t stop the smile that grew at the reminder of the night before. The encouragement of her violence was so deeply pleasing to her that she could barely put it into words. She had always been told she was the problem, something to use and to fix. It was never like that with these men. “Oh…well, that’s because we did.” 

Clark’s eyes went wide. “You did?” 

Darcy leaned against the counter, resting her arms on it. “Wouldn’t that be a story? Imagine if we just Molotov cocktailed the place, once we made sure it was empty, of course. But that would be crazy…after all, we’re pretty distinctive, aren’t we?” She probably should have felt bad for what she was doing, but Darcy had enough run-ins with the police to know that if there was no actual proof, they couldn’t pin anything on. Witness testimony from other punks didn’t hold up, especially if no one could say she actually confessed to them. 

He frowned slightly, unsure if she was telling the truth or not. “So…did you?”

Darcy tilted her head, watching him. “Do you think I would?”

“I think they would.” She knew exactly who he was referring to. 

“Probably,” she agreed. They were going to have to do something about that though if the surf assholes were looking for her. She wasn’t worried about them going after the boys. The whole vampire thing worked in their favour. Darcy just wanted to make sure any retaliation against her wasn’t going to impact Sampson, Clark, or the innocent people at the motel she lived at. 

Clark left without a word now that his warning was given. Not unusual. Darcy settled back in her chair and started planning. 

The boys were waiting for her as soon as the sun set. Of course they were. Darcy made a note to talk with them about the concept of boundaries and what hers were. This time though it saved her a trip from trying to find them, especially since they preferred to hang around the boardwalk and she preferred to avoid it. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” she asked as soon as she was close enough. 

“Then wait for you? Nah, girl.” 

David held out a hand for her, inviting her to his bike. She was tempted to choose someone else just because but she decided to throw him a bone. She let him guide her behind him. The engine under her was warm and she wrapped her arms around David’s waist before he took off without warning. 

The good thing about riding with David was that despite his mullet, he had less hair than the others, allowing her to easily see what they passed. Pedestrians dove out of the way as they crossed the boardwalk. They drove through the sand, laughing as they sprayed some of the people hanging around bonfires. 

Darcy recognized the cliffs that made up the entrance to their lair. Paul swept her up off of David’s bike into a hug, before she dug her fingers into his ribs. She had no clue if it hurt but it was enough that he squirmed before Marko yanked Paul into a headlock and he was forced to let her go. Dwayne was at her side, offering to help her down. She stood at the top of the rickety metal stairs before she turned. “You’re going to have to carry me. I’m not walking down this.”

She heard someone laugh but Dwayne was dutiful in the way that he carefully picked her up and held her firmly against him. She closed her eyes but it only took seconds before she could feel that they were in the cave. Dwayne set her down gently. 

“Thanks,” she told him. 

“Don’t have to thank me, rosy-girl,” his fingers brushed her cheek. She was suddenly reminded of that night in the cave when he brought her funnel cake to celebrate karma hitting that animal abuser hard. 

“We told you,” David’s arm wrapped around Darcy’s waist, drawing her away from Dwayne. “We’ll take care of you, Darcy.” He dropped down on a chair, pulling Darcy with him. 

“Yeah? What does that entail?”

“Whatever you want, babe!” Paul called out as he made his entrance. Marko followed behind. The two of them playfully shoved each other. 

She focused on the way David’s arm wrapped around her waist, holding her against him. He pressed his face into her hair, grip tightening slightly. “Are you hungry?” 

“A bit,” she admitted.

“Marko! Go get some food.” 

“Darce! Anything you want?”

“I’m not picky,” she called out, leaning back into David. Marko grinned before disappearing. 

David’s hand slipped under her shirt, softly stroking her stomach as he kissed her neck. It was strange to feel so comforted by the action considering what he was. She can’t stop the flinch though as his thumb presses against the surgical scar on her left side. He paused. His thumb stroked the scar again and Darcy forced herself not to react to it. 

“What happened?” His voice was low, laced with a threat that she knew wasn’t aimed at her. 

“It’s from a surgery,” she answered, trying to keep her voice steady. It’s not enough as the others seem to hear. She found herself quickly surrounded. 

“Surgery?” Paul asked. “What happened? Wrong side of a knife after you swung a bat at them?” it was playful, but the same threat was in his voice that was in David’s. “

She smiled at the promise in them. It was an odd thing to know that there were people who were prepared to fight for her, especially considering why she had that scar in the first place. “No, I had to donate part of my liver.” 

There was a moment of silence that suddenly felt suffocating. 

David’s grip tightened. “Had to?” 

“Yeah,” she said. “My sister needed it.”

The men look at each other, a silent communication she wasn’t a part of. She tried not to let it grate. 

“You offered?” Paul asked, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. 

Her throat tightened, a familiar lump growing in response to the question. There was never a chance to offer. She simply had to. She can practically hear her family telling her that she should consider herself lucky, that she should be grateful she can help, that she is so selfish!

“Darce?” A hand tilted her face up, back towards David who was staring at her with a slight frown. He seemed to read something in her expression because the next thing she knew, he moved his hand off of her stomach and was pulling off his glove with his teeth. Her eyes were drawn to the scars that littered it, the reminder of her conversation with him. Fucking fathers. 

“My sister has been sick my whole life. I had to give her whatever she needed: marrow, plasma, liver…whether or not I wanted to. That was the only reason they’d had me after all. They told me themselves. Everything had been perfect before me. By the time I was old enough to say no, they guilted me into it again and again, carving more of me away until I’d had enough. They turned everyone we knew against me for being selfish, for not wanting to help my own flesh and blood. I refused to be anything they could use ever again.” 

Someone was growling.

It took her a moment to realize it was all of them. 

“Never again,” David said, voice lower and rougher than usual. “No one’s ever going to force you again.” 

Darcy smiled and leaned forward to kiss the ridge of his brow. “They haven’t forced me into anything for years. Not since I crashed their car and stopped staying in their house.” His face smoothed into the human one she knew well. 

“That why you’re living in a motel?” he asked. “In Santa Carla?”

“I told you,” she teased. “I’m a time traveller.” They laughed at that and Paul and Dwayne finally eased up, moving away from them. It likely helped that David motioned them off. 

His thumb smoothed over the scar one last time. He reached up, brushing her hair back and tucking it behind her ear. He paused and she felt him pull the backing off of her earring. 

“Hey, what are–” 

He put a finger on her chin, turning her face back away from him. He took out her earring and tossed it. She heard it bounce off the ground. She sat there for a moment before feeling him press an earring into the space he had made. When his fingers moved, tracing a path down her neck, she turned to look. It took a moment before she realized what was missing. 

“Did you…give me one of your earrings?”

“Looks better on you,” David said. “Now you’ll have a piece of me wherever you go.” 

“Thank you.” It was a sweet gesture and something told her that David didn’t usually do sweet. Maybe it was the way they tended to interact, ready to tear each other's throats out at any given time. 

He leaned down and kissed her. It wasn’t soft. David kissed her as though he was trying to consume her. He burned himself into her. He finally pulled back when Marko returned with food. 

Darcy was a little high from the way Paul kept shotgunning his joint with her. She was lying on their couch, listening to the way the boys were rambunctious around her. 

“Hey, rosy-girl,” Dwayne murmured as he knelt next to her. “I got an idea.”

“Hmm?” she turned to look at him. He was lit by the fires in the cans that they had burning. It was a good look on him. Made him seem more human somehow. Maybe it was the warmth of the light on his skin. 

His hand slipped up under her shirt. He found one of the surgical scars easily, fingers brushing against it. He didn’t move higher as she expected. “You want to erase those scars? Make something beautiful on you.” 

“Like a tattoo?” 

He grins at her. “Better. I’ll make some new scars, a reminder of who you are.”

Darcy frowns slightly. “You wanna cut me up?”

“Just a little,” he says. “It’ll hurt, but you’re not afraid of a bit of pain, are you?” 

“Pain’s never stopped me before.” 

His grin turned a bit sharper. “Knew it wouldn’t.” He flipped open a knife. She eyed it carefully, but it looked new and sharp. “Let me?”

She considered it carefully. She wasn’t exactly a fan of knives near her, but it wasn’t like he’d put her to sleep through it and the idea of changing those scars into something she chose was appealing. It would shift from something taken to something given. “Yeah,” she breathes. “Yeah, okay.” 

Despite being high, and Paul shotgunning more into her mouth, she felt everything. Dwayne was extremely skilled. The pain wasn’t as strong as she expected it to be. He spent his time carving into her and distracting her with his mouth and tongue pressing against her skin. 

She fell asleep, feeling someone's hands stroke her hair and Dwayne murmuring that she’s been so good for him. 

Darcy woke to the sun hitting her face. She moved automatically, trying to roll away from the brightness. The sharp pain across her abdomen made her gasp and bolt up, instantly regretting it. She breathes through the pain, a practice she’s all too familiar with and has long tried to forget. A quick glance showed that the boys had managed to properly bandage and wrap her stomach. It was tempting to undo so she could see how far Dwayne had gotten, but experience has drilled into her to leave her bandages alone. 

Darcy pushed herself to her feet before leaving the cave. There was no point in sticking around bored out of her mind waiting for the sunset so the vampires could wake up. She had better things to do. Like finding a way to get to her job that she was probably late for. 

It took her longer than she wanted to get up those fucking awful metal steps. She mentally cursed the fact that she was attracted to a bunch of vampires who had no consideration for the humans they stole. Not that she could blame them. She wouldn’t make an easy exit for anyone she decided to kill, but it was a fucking pain to deal with now. Especially when the wounds on her stomach were killing her. Figuratively. 

She considered stealing one of their bikes. They didn’t actually need it and it would’ve served them right to have to share when they left her alone in their cave. The only thing that stopped her was the fact that she wasn’t entirely sure she could balance properly. Not with how her stomach twinged with every movement. 

So she walked. 

She saw the smoke first. 

It took a moment before she realized where it was coming from. She took off running. There was a small crowd on the street. She shoved her way past the tourists and the few familiar citizens until finally, she was close enough to see it. Sampson’s shop was burnt down. A still smouldering wreck that was hollowed out and collapsing before her.  

“What the fuck?” Darcy exclaimed, looking at the chaos she knows she didn’t cause. “What happened?”

“Darcy!” 

“Darcy!”

She turned at the sound of her name. Camila, Sampson and Clark came barreling toward her. Clark hit first, hugging her tightly before he realized what he was doing and let go. Camila took his place, hugging her before pulling back to cup her face in her hands and turning her head so Camila could look her over. 

“Dios mio, you’re okay! We thought you might have been caught in it! No one’s seen you! You weren’t at the motel!”

“What happened?” Darcy asked again, looking between the two adults.

“Surf Nazis came for revenge like I said they would. Everyone knows you work here, Darce,” Clark said. 

Anger burned through her, as hot as the fire that lay dormant in front of them. “They did, huh?” That’s fine. She could deal with those assholes. She knows if she asked, the vampires will help. Still, that does not erase the fact that her work is destroyed. It wasn’t even hers. She looked over at Sampson. “I am so sorry.”

“Nah, Darce. It’s a bummer but it’s just threads. The man is already asking ‘round. More important that you’re safe. We were buggin’ out thinking you were inside.” 

“The boys picked me up after work,” she said. “I spent the night with them.” 

Camila muttered a prayer before hugging her again. “Where are you staying?”

“The motel?” Darcy answered.

“Is that safe? Mija, if they know where you worked, they know where you live.” 

That was an excellent point. Still, Darcy hated that they were forcing her into this position. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ll figure it out.” Worst case scenario, she’d stay in that stupid cave. She wasn’t about to let that happen though. She’d deal with these assholes first. 

“You can stay with me,” Camila offered. “Come, let’s get your stuff. Even if you find somewhere else, you can have your stuff somewhere safe until you decide.” 

She barely knew Camila but Sampson did and she trusted him. “Sure, thanks.” 

“Don’t worry ‘bout the store, Darce. I’ll let you know when I have something else set and I’ll come by Camila’s, drop off your pay, ya dig?”

She tried not to smile. “I dig,” she agreed. Clark disappeared again but Darcy let herself be led away from the wreckage by Camila. 

She gathered her meagre belongings from the motel and dropped them off in the spare room at Camila’s house. The older woman seemed ecstatic that she was there, taking the time to show her around and, more importantly in her words, feed her.  

Fuck everything else. This made it worth it. Camila apparently hadn’t had anyone to feed in ages because she seemed enthusiastic and determined to find out what Darcy’s favourites would be. 

Darcy was free to roam the house as she waited but she stayed close and kept up the conversation. 

“Is this your husband?” she asked, pointing to a picture on the mantle. Camila was younger, but the smile on her face was the same. The man next to her was a little taller, his grin wide and holding Camila close next to him. He looked like a good man, but Darcy knew how looks could be deceiving. 

“Ah! Si, that is my Ernesto! That picture was taken the day we met our guardian angel.”

Darcy looked over, bemused. “Your guardian angel?”

“It was in Los Angeles, Nineteen…sixty-five I think. Ernesto and I, we were struggling. I was thirty,” she went back to cooking and Darcy followed her into the kitchen. “When I met him. Smart man, handsome, but it was not so easy then. Our angel, sh-they helped us find our home. Gave us money for a proper start.”

Darcy’s eyebrows rose. “What did they want in return?”

“Nothing.” Camila laughed when she turned to look at the expression on Darcy’s face. “It’s true. Said it was payment for the future, that they wanted to…invest in our happiness. Never asked for anything in return. And we’re not the only ones in town who have received their help. Our angel would come by sometimes, just to sit with us. I think…they were lonely.” 

Darcy had never considered herself lonely at any point in her life. Being lonely meant that you were giving others power over you, that you were setting yourself up to be indebted to someone for their company. She refused to part with anything of hers that she wasn’t fully willing to give. 

Before night fell, Darcy started walking back to the bluffs. Her stomach burned with the movement but she needed to find the boys before they saw the burnt down remains while looking for her. If they were going to be as pissed as she was, she wanted to aim them in the right direction. The Surf Nazis stole something from her, from people who helped her. She would steal something back.

taglist: @raith-way @arrthurpendragon @zeleniafic @jvstjewels @veetlegeuse @chickensarentcheap @residentdormouse @endless-oc-creations @stanshollaand @wordspin-shares

lost boys tag: @phantomenby @avengers-fixation @artaxerxesthegreat @henhouse-horrors @charlizekkelly @makepastanotwar13

[zaenaris]

I spoke with someone (who is anime only) and they told me that Koko wouldn't probably have gotten as much obesssed by money if he saved Akane and that Inupi was the one to have need of operations or he or he would have sseing how much Akane was upset because of her little brother's state.

Personally i'm not agree. Koko and Inupi were probably friends for years because Akane acted very familiar with Koko, so she knew him for a while.

And i'm sure that losing Inupi would have had a most terrible impact on Koko, because his feelings for Akane were a puppy crush and when he would have grow up our of it he would be shallowed by guilt to have not even thought to Inupi, to not have had enough money to save him. The feelings to be empty, the feeling to have been a horrible friend, the feeling of shame, and the guilt to not have saved him....it would have destroyed him.

He recovered from not have been able to save Akane and has Inupi to be here and to patiently wait him to get over his obessession but surely he wouldn't have recovered to have lost Inupi because nobody would have been here for him.

Maybe Akane would have tried to help but maybe Koko would have distanced himself from her because she looks too much like Inupi.

I agree with you @naehja

I understand that for anime-only people it may be difficult to understand immediately Koko and Inupi's backstory, there's a lot of new info, a lot of trauma and guilt involved, I understand it can be overwhelming and even readers had to re-read the whole story, analyzing the situation because, while I believe Wakui wanted Koko and Inupi story to be treated as a romantic one, (because the way he writes them and the tropes he uses for them, are strongly romantic-coded), I understand there are many levels of reading in their whole story and that

1)maybe Wakui wanted us to read it as romantic but decided to leave things a little ambiguous, just because, or

2)or what we saw in the manga is the best he could do, given the industry isn't the most queer-friendly around;

3)or he purposely decided to let readers free to have their own interpretation, romantic or not

but ultimately, if even now, when the story ended a year ago and we have plenty of confirmations regarding Koko andd Inupi's feelings for each other, manga readers still insists that Koko was an insensitive asshole that used Inupi "because he looks like his sister", then I fear we have a problem.

But this person you talked with is an anime-only, they still don't know how their last meeting before Bonten arc goes, etc etc, so I can understand if they are confused.

The problem is that many times people forget that, trauma or not, kissing your male friend when you're a boy yourself and you're perfectly aware of you you are kissing and what you are doing, isn't a very super-straight thing to do, especially when the writer made Akane (that in-universe represents both Koko's guilt and conscience) said to Koko "kiss only the person you like".

I understand many people (*cough*homophobic dudebros, generally*cough) prefer to see boy killing and do the worse thing to each other, but boys liking boys do indeed exist.

As us kokonui shippers always said, and as it was recently confirmed once again in the exhibition by Wakui in the extra chapter, Koko's crush on Akane was just that, an innocent crush that naturally faded; it became a major trauma only because Akane died an Koko felt guilty he couldn't protect her: at that point it wasn't even bc he had a crush at that time, it was because he felt he failed her, a nice, gentle girl, a person he cared about and that didn't deserve that terrible fate.

We know that in the end, with time and Inupi's help, Koko gets over -or at least, start to understand he can live without- his trauma and choses to be with Inupi as he always wanted, but without guilt.

In the end, if Akane survived and Inupi died, there would have been no one as close as Inupi has always been to Koko to help him, as you said.

Akane probably only knew Koko as Seishu's friend, otherwise they'd had no reason to interact, and Koko would have felt even guiltier for not thinking immediately to his friend; of course he'd be happy Akane is safe, but he would hate himself even more for not saving Seishu. I fear he would have kept making money but this time there would have been no one around trying to make him reason and make him realize he could live a life without his guilt, because, as we said, I doubt Akane and Koko would have any reason to interact without Seishu and in time, as we saw, Koko's crush was meant to fade anyway.

[jaegersmoon]

truly, you have no idea how often i think of ob. today was one of the many instances with the eclipse. i see okay bambi in most things around me and it is so amazing that i've discovered your story and have dove so deep into it.

my world was very empty and uninspired before i found okay, bambi. i used to be anxious about social situations and ob helped me to realize that it's okay if i'm awkward or if i have my own issues or quirks when it comes to interacting.

y/n and jean's relationship really shows that with the right person, you can freely express on your own terms, and i love how you've incorporated that patience they have with each other.

recently, ive been hanging out with tons of people. in the past, i couldn't even hang out with close friends. now im spontaneously inviting my coworkers and acquaintances on dinner dates.

i can say without a doubt that this comfortability has sourced from how okay, bambi displays patience, respect, and true friendship. and i've found people that are patient with me, respect me, and show that they really don't care if im awkward or shy, or if im too talkative and chaotic. there will always be people out there that will treat me how i deserve to be treated, and ob always shows me that i should never settle for less.

you are a role model to me and im sure many other people out there. i just felt the need to speak on this because it has become a major plot point in my life 🤗

i hope everyday you are proud of your work, because i am truly enamored by every little aspect and detail of okay, bambi.

super excited for the new chapter! i'll be rereading again and again. i always do when one comes out 🫶

i didn't plan on writing a whole essay, whoopsie.. 😶‍🌫️

this means so much to me , you have no idea. to think that my work has such a positive influence in so many different areas of your life is so hard for me to wrap my head around but it’s such a big inspiration for me to keep up with my writing esp at the times i feel like giving it up

thank you for taking the time to write out this message and tell me how much ob has had an impact on you. i’m so proud of you and your growth. you deserve all the love and happiness and i’m so glad you are finishing it in your life 🤍🪐

[she-karev]

The Girlfriend and The Dog Meet (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev’s Sister Imagine)

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Giacomo Gianniotti (@giacomo_gianniotti)

Age Rating: 12+

Chapters: One of One

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev’s Sister)

AN: So, I know it’s late but August 26th was international dog day and I wanted to write a story surrounding dogs because they are god’s gift I speak as a dog mom. Like and reblog below and let me know what you think.

Summary: DeLuca is discharged from the hospital with Amber who is asked a very important question by him that he claims will impact their relationship.

Words: 2244

May 14th, 2020

After the past two weeks of having tests and physical therapy and being sent thank you cards and flowers Andrew DeLuca is more than ready to go home. He has been inside the hospital for 10 days and it feels like an eternity has passed.

He has felt discomfort now and then, especially when the tube was exerted from his throat. Also, it was hard to move around without stretching the surgical scars. Bailey has run the tests on him and he can tell she’s doing this out of shame as she apologized for not believing him the day he first accused Opal. He forgave her as he understood he was presenting himself as manic and unstable and not handling the situation as he normally would. The only thing that made his stay bearable was the company of Carina and Amber.

Carina has been a big help with getting him to walk around for PT and getting him food that he was craving. She also got her girlfriend Maya to get Andrew’s dog Jazz out of his empty apartment and into theirs so he can be taken care of while his owner is at the hospital. He received texts with videos of Jazz enjoying his temporary home being cuddled by their roommate Andy Herrera who jokes she is his new owner now.

Andrew packs his duffel bag as his memories of jazz play through his mind and he realizes there is one person in his life that has not met the furry tripod who stole his heart, his girlfriend, Amber Karev.

He groans at this in regret and wonders how Amber will feel about his doggy roommate. For as long as he’s known her, she hasn’t given any indication if she likes cats or dogs. He never brought it up because he thought like her that he would be so busy with work that a pet wouldn’t be in the picture.

But now since he adopted Jazz, he can’t imagine having another dog in his place. He just hopes Amber can feel the same way because he doesn’t want to choose between the two of them. He hears a knock on his door and he turns to find Amber opening the door wearing her casual clothes and black mask. He smiles at the sight of her because if there was one good thing about this year is Amber finally giving them another chance.

At first, he thought it was out of pity because he was stabbed but he listened to the voicemail she left the night before his attack and knows she’s here because she wants to be. And it’s an opportunity he is determined not to screw up again. But first he needs to have a conversation with her that is overdue.

“Are you ready to go home?” Amber asks closing the door behind her, “After two weeks of quarantine at a hotel room I mean.”

Andrew grins, “Well room service should be better than the food they have here, and they also have premium cable. I think I’ll survive.”

Amber smiles before walking so they can stand six feet from each other, “Well if you ever need someone to talk to through the door or drop off chicken soup for you for once I’m your girl.”

“Careful I’m definitely gonna take you up on that.” Andrew teases causing Amber to grin before he clicks his tongue and gets to his question, “Amber…you’ve been great I mean really you have been this past year has been rough and a lot has happened but one of the few things that have kept my feet on the ground is you walking in and giving me another chance. I mean seeing you and touching you as much as I can it’s a welcome relief after everything.”

Amber frowns at this, “What’s the bad news?”

Andrew furrows his eyebrows at that slightly scared she figured him out so quick, “What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, DeLuca.” Amber states bluntly, “You always compliment me before you give me a piece of information that you think is bound to upset me.”

Andrew chuckles at this before Amber lays out examples, “You told me I was the sexiest woman alive before telling me you spilled my expensive eye cream all over the floor. You said I was the smartest resident in my class before telling me you assigned me scut for the next few weeks under Bailey’s orders. Also, you tried to ply me with a lavish Italian dinner before I found out you bought a motorcycle without consulting me.”

Andrew frowns at that last one remembering how peeved she was before she pointed out all the braindead patients, they get monthly due to motorcycle accidents. It was safe to say at that point that the dinner he made didn’t diminish her worry for his safety and her fury for what she thinks was a stupid decision on his part.

“I know your tactics and I know you Andrew DeLuca so out with it just give it to me straight it’s how I like my bad news.”

Andrew starts, “Okay it’s not bad news or even news its more like…a question. It’s a question that I have to ask out of concern for you and for our relationship and where we go from here. It’s an important question and your response is vital on what happens to us moving forward.”

Amber’s eyes widen at that, but she inhales and stands her ground, “Okay, what’s the question?”

“Amber…how do you feel about dogs?”

Amber is startled by this question before she laughs and snorts, “That’s it? That’s the question?”

Andrew keeps a serious face, “You laugh now bella but this is an important question either way.”

Amber clears her throat but still has an amused smile, “Sorry yes, deadly serious um…I don’t know I’ve never had a dog or given it much thought. I guess it depends on the dog, is that a good response?”

“It’s good cause I got a dog I want you to meet.” Andrew tells Amber, who widens her eyes at this as the smile falls from her face.

“You have a dog?” Amber asks out of pure curiosity.

Andrew nods, “Yeah, Jazz.”

Amber’s mouth gapes open and for a moment she’s silent before shaking her head out of it, “You have a dog named Jazz?”

“I do.”

“You’ve never mentioned this.”

Andrew shrugs, “It never came up.”

“Where is he? I mean you didn’t leave him alone in your apartment while you were recovering, did you? Because I think I’m gonna have to dump you for doing something that negligent and cruel.”

Andrew chuckles, “He’s with my sister and her girlfriend. I like to think of him as my fur baby and I don’t neglect my baby’s needs.”

“Good.” Amber says approvingly, “Wow three months apart and you get a dog go figure.”

“Well, I didn’t plan on it believe me but when he came to the hospital after his asshole owners fed him drugs, I had to take him in. It took a while and a few destroyed pillows, but we warmed up to each other and became inseparable.”

Amber looks shocked at this backstory before chuckling, “Wow he sounds like me, persevering tragic background and finding an Italian to curl up to at night.”

Andrew snorts at her comparison, “What can I say? I have a healing touch.”

“Oh god.” Amber groans in amusement, “Well I can’t wait to meet him…in 14 days. Now let’s get you packed for your quarantine.” Andrew groans but follows suit with Amber helping him. He looks up with a pleased grin at her reaction and hopes Jazz gives her a chance as well.

May 28th, 2020

“I know I’ve hit you with a lot of information, but I need some sense that we’re on the same page.” Andrew asks Jazz who is sitting in front of him panting up at his owner who picked him up and brought him to the apartment last night, “No biting Amber got it? I’m not gonna lose the best relationship I have again because of your hostility towards strangers. And if your good to her I will give you salmon and eggs but only after you treat Amber nicely.”

Andrew finishes the breakfast on his pan that he made as an incentive for Jazz to encourage him to get along with Amber. He finds that cooked meals are a great treat for his dog to train him as he learned from teaching him to pee outside and not destroy the pillows.

Jazz whines clearly wanting the meal now and looks up at Andrew with pleading eyes, “Oh you can whine all you want but I’m not giving you this high protein breakfast unless I see you try to tolerate the woman I love. Think of it as a reward.” A knock on the door alerts Andrew as he puts the eggs in a plate, “Now’s your chance stay put.”

Andrew walks to the door making sure Jazz stays in his spot before he opens the door to find Amber on the other side holding up her phone.

“Negative covid test, I’m clean.”

“Well in that case come on in.” Andrew holds the door open for Amber who comes in and takes her mask off before she finds Jazz sitting on the couch watching Amber, “Amber this is Jazz, Jazz this is Amber.”

Amber grins at the dog before cautiously approaching him holding her hand out for him to sniff, “He’s cute is he friendly?”

“Uh mostly he takes a while to get used to strangers though so don’t be offended if he’s skittish at first. He’s very independent and we haven’t had guests beyond Carina and Maya so it can take a while before he-”

To Andrew’s shock Jazz licks Amber’s hand after sniffing her for a few moments causing her to aww. She then stands in front of the black tripod scratching behind his ears that he clearly likes as he smiles while panting. It takes Andrew by surprise as it took two days for Jazz to let him pet him while he let Amber do it after meeting her for two seconds. He decides not to point it out because he wanted them to get along and he got his wish.

“Or he’s been waiting his whole life for you to show up.”

Amber chuckles at that as she continues to pet Jazz, “Well the feeling is mutual, I guess. Is that salmon I smell?”

Andrew remembers Jazz’s reward, “And eggs which reminds me.”

Amber steps back and follows Andrew to the kitchen, “I already ate before I came but I appreciate it though.”

“Oh no it’s for Jazz.” Andrew moves to put the scrambled salmon and eggs in the dog bowl that Jazz greedily eats to his owner’s pleasure who kneels down and strokes the dog, “Yes, who’s a good dog? Who’s the best dog? You are.”

Amber is surprised by this sight, but she chuckles lightly with a smile, “Wow this is a side of you I haven’t seen.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a new thing.” Amber says before grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, “But hey at least I know what to get you for your birthday.”

Andrew furrows his eyebrows, “It’s not a puppy is it? Because this guy is enough thank you very much.”

Amber chuckles, “No see I was thinking a t shirt that says WORLDS BEST DOG DAD in bright red letters with a bitmoji of you and your new BFF.”

Andrew chuckles before standing up, “Oh you would just love to have me wear that to the gym, where all the bodybuilders can see it wouldn’t you?”

“After I put a lot of thought into it yeah.”

Andrew smiles at this before leaning down to kiss Amber who responds. She runs her fingers through his hair that she almost forgot the velvety feel of it. After weeks of tests and quarantine this moment between them as an official couple once again feels like fireworks are going off.

He puts his hands on her hips missing the feel of her before loud panting interrupts them. Amber opens her eyes to see Jazz sitting in front of them watching this scene. She pulls back from Andrew who turns and notices to his amusement.

Andrew chuckles, “Relax, he’s a dog he doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Amber nods in agreement before going back to kissing him. She tries to get lost in the make out session, but she opens her eyes to find Jazz is still there and panting at them.

Amber pulls back, “I can’t do it, nope not right in front of him. It’s like having your child watch his dad make out with the new girlfriend and I know the unsettling feeling with the men my mother dated so I will spare your fur baby the same.”

Andrew groans as Amber pulls out a few things from her purse before walking toward his bathroom, “Where are you going?”

“To take a bath.” Andrew sighs in defeat at this until Amber adds, “And you’re joining me. It’s the one room in your place with a door. Come on before Jazz ruins the moment again lets go.”

Andrew grins mischievously, “Yes ma’am.” Andrew follows Amber inside the bathroom promptly closing the door to give them privacy.

[silvcrsxng]

GOD SAVE THE PROM QUEEN

Larissa Weems x oc

Chapter II

A/N: Hello there! First of all, I have to say a big THANK U for liking and sharing the first part of the story. I am so happy about that, I can‘t even tell! Today, I‘ll upload chapter two of the story - I wasn‘t quite contented about it, but didn‘t really know why. After a few times of rereading, I finally decided to upload - so have fun while reading! ♡︎

♕

There is this one moment when everything freezes. You leave your body, look at it from the outside. You weaken, feel empty and stagger in nothingness. Only then does your story enter for you. Your emotions, your feelings, your thoughts. You regain control of your body. It remembers things that seem completely alien to you - just gives you, for this one moment, the possibility to see yourself from a different perspective.

So should you fall, should you also see yourself from above ... Do you then ask yourself if you could still hear yourself? If you could hear others? The possible scream? The last words muttered as you fell? The cries of others, their shouts?

Or do you merely wrap yourself in golden silence, accepting your fate and letting the inevitable happen? The impact that inevitably follows every fall. In our younger years, we learned from this. We were taught to get back up after each fall. To go on stronger than before, to try again - and then, with the progress of time, not to fall again. To survive situations in which we had previously failed.

What irony. If you look at your past life, your school days, your childhood, one thing is quite striking. Many of the things that await us in later life are things we encounter unprepared. Who teaches us how to deal with our feelings or thoughts? Who teaches us to think clearly in difficult situations? Who teaches us to deal with the first heartbreak?

No one.

Except ourselves.

"You've taught yourself everything you need. Goal orientation. As soon as pressure is on you, fight it. Don't perish because of it. Walk your path with your head held high, write your own story. Because if you don't, others will do it for you. Without asking yourself what part you want to play in it."

Second fiddle. That was what Elura had mostly played in her story so far. She had fallen - too many times to count. But she had always gotten back up, no matter how hard the impact had been. In the hope of being first choice for once in the future. Since those school days, she had never lost that hope. It had felt, the moment she had finally seen Larissa Weems again, as if all that hope over the past few years had finally been rewarded. Her warm, heartfelt smile - those sparkling blue eyes. She had no difficulty whatsoever in recalling that moment of first seeing her again - she had also made an effort to carefully memorise her beautiful face. To refresh the memory of her, which had been so long ago.

The disbelief that had spread through her stomach at first had quickly turned into joy. Joy, however, which she had not really been able to show. Not because she didn't want to, no. But much more for the reason that she was afraid of losing her again anyway. To see someone else with her, to be able to do nothing but stand in the shadows.

"You are not a teacher at this school. Neither are you one of their students, you are decidedly too old for that," a relatively monotone voice snapped her out of her thoughts, making her frown in confusion. Elura had sat down on a bench a little away from the schoolyard - her nose buried in a book, which she read only half-heartedly, however. Her thoughts had been far away, completely blocking out any external events. Until that interruption. She raised her head, looking at the black-haired girl standing in front of her with a raised eyebrow. "I too wish you a good day." she replied before gently closing the book. "But yes, it's true. I am neither."

The girl didn't make any expression - merely eyed her in a strange way before her gaze fell on the book in her hands. "Then why are you here?" she asked another question, which, however, merely made Elura shake her head gently. "It's none of your business. I don't see why I should be accountable to you, especially since I don't even know you." The girl's behaviour puzzled her. Not least for the reason that she had seemingly just appeared out of nowhere. "Wednesday. Wednesday Addams." No sooner had she spoken her name than Elura's body tensed.

Addams.

Addams, after Gomez Addams. And Gomez was automatically linked to Morticia. Morticia Frump - or Addams, whatever her name was now. "You have already made the acquaintance of my mother." Nothing. No response from Elura, who was busy processing what she had just heard. "With my father, too." "How do you know that?" it finally escaped her lips, which had become eerily dry.

Wednesday seemed heartily unsurprised by the question - unless, of course, she was extremely talented at hiding her actual reactions behind that disinterested, almost creepy façade. "The yearbook. And your reaction to my name." She left. Without having waited for a response.

Elura was left behind, ignorant of how she felt a moment ago. How she should classify her feelings.

And for that one moment, she saw herself - sitting there, on that bench. The same book in her hand as she had all those years ago.

She rose, slowly, and made her way back to the high walls of Nevermore Academy. "You were always fond of that book. I remember always wondering why." She didn't have to lift her head to recognise whose voice it was. Even among thousands, she would have recognised it. It was Larissa, who had approached her with a gentle smile on her lips. "You spent hours reading it ..." the blonde added. "And it was you who always reminded me not to let time completely out of my sight," Elura replied, finally coming to a halt in front of the headmistress and looking up at her.

"Without you, I would have been late to class many times." The tall woman lowered her head, smirking, before shaking her head a little. "If, then you would have merely been a little late." Elura bit her lip lightly, looking at her counterpart wordlessly for a few moments. "I never thanked you for that." Surprised, the blonde raised her head, returning the look with which the young woman regarded her. "It was also no-" with a determined shake of her head she silenced Principal Weems. "Don't say that Because no matter how many times you told me it wasn't necessary, I still wouldn't be able to accept it." Her words were gentle - merely yet firm.

"Without you ... All my time here would have been black and white." Thoughts. She did not speak them, aware that they would not change her situation. A light touch on her cheek made her turn her attention back to the blonde. She looked into her eyes, into that beautiful, deep and reassuring blue. The smile she wore on her red-painted lips was honest, almost tender. Larissa herself radiated perfect warmth and calm. The same charisma as back then. With the difference that her authority had increased. Not in a negative way. She had never been someone who acted selfishly. Rather, she had been the kind of person who always tried to help others - who stood up for others without asking for anything in return.

Silence. It felt like there was nothing and no one else in this world. It was just the two of them. It felt right. Almost like coming home after a long, far too long time .... coming home. She was her home. She had always been, but she had never dared to open up to it.

And ... that's how it was going to stay for now.

"It's about time, isn't it?" Once again, it was Elura who destroyed the moment. Who could not face her feelings in the way she would have liked to. Larissa's expression stiffened for a moment before she blinked and nodded curtly. "Quite."

And there they went again. Separately, both heading in other directions. Another separation, which again felt like a disappointment to the young woman. She wanted to be honest. More than anything else. And the Rave'N was the best way to do that.

[brighterdaysarebeforeus]

The Big Boss Battle!! (^.^) sort of. God, this was a mess of a chapter to get out!! (>.<) this is kind of a rough one, by the way, sorry guys!!

@hobiesgender @hadesdaughter2002 @lirulua

Masterlist

There was still a lot going on.

Miles had darted forward, and the Spot opened up a dimensional wormhole in front of him; Miles nearly fell out of a third story window, just barely catching himself in time with a well-placed web. Hobie and Pavitr tried to tag team against him, using their webs to shoot at him, only to duck out of the way at the last second to avoid the Spot’s portals throwing their attacks at each other rather than him.

Gwen dropped from above and kicked him in the side, throwing him off balance and making him fall face first into the ground. He growled as he scrambled to his feet, creating a black hole that Gwen went through on her second attempt at a hit. Miles yelled at that, senses going haywire even if Gwen did appear falling out of the sky two seconds later; her arms pinwheeled as she tried to shoot a web to catch herself and missed, and Miles threw himself towards her. With one hand already holding onto his swinging web, he slammed into her at just the right angle. She gasped at the impact, gripping onto him tightly as they slammed into the side of another building.

“Oh my god,” she gasped, voice trembling just a little, “oh my god, oh my god…”

“Spider-Woman!” Hobie yelled up, appearing next to the both of them. “Spider-Woman, you good?”

“Oh my god.” Gwen gasped in response. Hobie tried to get through to her, but Miles had stopped paying attention to that in favor of darting down at the Spot.

He slammed into him hard, taking him down a second time but not getting him out of the fight. They grappled together, Miles’s hands intermittently dropping into the spots on Spot and vanishing for a moment before he yanked them out again. Something slammed into them both, and Miles snarled loudly as his grip loosened and the Spot vanished. He skid a bit on the concrete, pushing himself up on aching wrists as he took a moment to look around him; in the fighting going on, the police had shown up, setting up what looked like blockades around the fight, and Miles felt his heart rate spike without fully understanding why.

Peter B and Noir were trying to fight the Spot right now, with Gwen and Ham throwing their help in between trying to evacuate, which Pavitr and Peni were focused on. Hobie was swinging around, throwing occasional attacks at the Spot, helping the random citizen who got too close or couldn’t get out, but seemed focused on the police; he destroyed the falling debris that would potentially crush groups of police who couldn’t move from their spots, yanked what policemen he could from getting hit by something that could potentially kill them, all the while snarking back at Gwen whenever she had a chance to mock him for it.

A noise from his left had him jerking his head to the side, and he sort of watched as a building crumbled down to pieces (Noir had thrown what looked like a bus at the Spot, who had opened up a portal just in front of himself and directed it to the top of a building instead; it hit the side of it at speed and the structural integrity of the building did not manage to hold) where a little girl in a red dress was crouching with her hands over her head. She was far away enough that none of the Spiders could get to her in time, close enough that she could be seen, she looked familiar, in the sense that Miles could’ve sworn he’d seen her —

An officer ran towards her, ducking around flying projectiles and falling pieces of building as best as he could, and Miles felt his entire awareness pinpoint on those two specifically. Without conscious thought, he pushed himself up — they weren’t too far away, he could make it, he could save —

Something slammed into his side, hard, and Miles went crashing into an empty bodega. It took him only a second to scramble to his feet again, and he twisted around to stare down Miguel, who was tilting his head so that his neck cracked. Miles felt a growl start in his chest, low and rumbling, and Miguel answered back with a growl of his own.

“I can’t let you do this.” He snarled, and Miles snapped his teeth in return. “You have no idea what you’re messing with!”

He lunged at Miguel, trying to get past him; Miguel grabbed his arm and threw him back into the bodega. Miles didn’t fall this time, sliding backwards on his feet but maintaining his balance. Outside, he could just hear Gwen’s voice, her words cutting off mid-quip as she got hit, Ham letting out what sounded like a war cry that ended in the loud sound of something crashing into something else. He tried lunging again, but Miguel caught him again and threw him back. His claws got caught in the latex of his suit, tearing it where he’d gripped Miles.

“Out of my way!” He snarled, and Miguel drew himself to his full height again. He looked genuinely apologetic, which was great but not exactly what Miles needed right at that moment, thanks, but crucially — crucially — the man did not move out of Miles’s way. Miles threw himself forward again, managing that time to just get past Miguel; when he was grabbed, it was by the scruff of his suit, and he got the glimpse of falling debris, his father carefully lifting the girl —

“DAD!” He yelled, but Jefferson was far too far away to hear him, and Miles was trying to get away but Miguel wasn’t letting him, his suit was tearing under Miguel’s grip but wasn’t tearing fast enough, and Jefferson turned with the little girl in his arms, her red dress bright against the blue of his shirt, and Miles felt the tears as they fell down his face distantly; he was panicking, scrambling, but nothing was working, nothing was working, nothing was —

The building finished collapsing. Jefferson tripped over something in the chaos, going down but managing to just shove the small girl out of the way enough that the dust enveloped her as the debris hit the ground. Miles froze, everything around him going quiet. He didn’t think his heart was even beating, he definitely wasn’t even breathing, he wasn’t even fighting Miguel anymore. Miguel let the back of his suit go, finally, but Miles couldn’t bring himself to move at all; he dropped to the floor, staring at the last place he’d seen his father.

Distantly, he was aware that Miguel was talking to him, saying something, but he couldn’t hear it. He stared harder, breath starting to come in gasps, almost willing something to change while knowing instinctively that nothing was going to. God, the last time he’d talked to his dad was the block party, when he delivered those stupid ass cakes that read “I’m disappointed” and when his dad had grounded him for talking back to the both of them. Miles let out a cry, pathetic and longing for his dad, and then —

The rubble shifted.

[bcbdrums]

Grasping for the Wind - pt. 6

First Chapter | Previous Chapter Read on: AO3 FFn

A Soul Eater story. It's about Stein and Spirit. Inspired by this fanart.

A/N: Gonna try to update faster... Maybe. Anyway, here's the big moment everyone's been waiting for.

Part 6

Stein closed his eyes and tried to eliminate distractions. No matter how tightly he held onto the staff, his hands felt weak. They were sweating, as if his own body was trying to prevent him from holding the weapon.

"How does it feel?" Griffin said, the invisible voice still approaching. "You're not getting to do what you want anymore, are you. But you still can Franken, with me."

Stein grit his teeth and looked up to where he knew the man must be standing. He was within reach.

"Stein? What are you waiting for!?" Spirit asked.

"Yes, what are you waiting for?" Griffin said, directly in front of him now.

Stein took a breath and found it shallow.

"Soul Force!"

"...Stein!?"

Griffin began cackling, because the hand Stein had abruptly thrust out to strike him, while it did impact the invisible body, had failed to deal the expected blow of Stein's soul wavelength. Stein took a step back and looked at his clammy hands.

Weak. Empty. Just like they had been in the classroom all those years ago.

"What's happening!? What's wrong!?" Spirit cried.

"Even your own soul is telling you to join me," Griffin said. He cleared his throat, and then his voice became dark and menacing. "I'll make it easier for you. What if I eliminate one of your obstacles?"

Just as thunder follows a bolt of lightning, Stein understood the warning too late to stop what he realized was going to happen. His hands returned to the staff to yank Spirit out of harm's way at the same moment he heard numerous impacts of metal upon metal, and then the horrible scraping like nails on a chalkboard.

"No!" he cried as Griffin became visible again, revealing both of his arms had transformed to trap Spirit's blade between them.

Griffin had been a morning star—a bludgeon with two-inch spikes sticking out of the shot put sized ball at the end of the short handle. But now he had turned both of his arms into a far more dangerous version of himself, the spikes protruding all around the length of his forearms up to his elbows. Stein watched in horror as the attack was dealt, Griffin swiping both arms down forcefully, scraping the shining blade of the scythe that Stein had left vulnerable. And the steel itself, impossibly, began to bleed.

"No! Don't—!" Stein shouted again as he knew again what was about to happen, but it was too late.

It was with a sharp cry of pain that Spirit had transformed out of weapon form, injured from the vicious blow. But that proved to be the fatal error as Griffin pressed his forearms hard into the torso of the now-human death scythe, an evil rumble sounding from within his chest as the spikes now had something to sink into. Time seemed to slow as Stein watched Griffin yank his arms down across Spirit's body, rending flesh from bone. The sound of Spirit's chest and back being ripped apart by the spikes was drowned out almost immediately by his scream of agony, and the rumble of laughter in Griffin's chest erupted into a triumphant guffaw, the man stepping back and doubling over as he reveled in his victory.

Stein was on his knees in an instant, catching Spirit as he fell. He felt the heat of blood saturating his clothes as Spirit gasped for breath, rapidly going into shock, and a terror Stein had never before felt anchored him to the sand. Above them their enemy towered, silhouetted by the rising sun as he raised his spiked arms in triumph, blood dripping from the deadly weapons down to the golden sand.

"Better now?" Griffin said, and Stein looked up as a strange numbness slowly swept his being, beginning to bury the paralyzing fear. A broad and crazed smile was bisecting Griffin's face as he transformed his arms and doubled over again, setting his hands on his knees as he barely bothered to stop laughing while he spoke. "No more Death Scythe! No more big brother watching over your shoulder to stop you each time you want to be free!"

Stein felt a small pull at his shoulder and glanced down to see blood, and then realized that Spirit's fingers were weakly gripping his coat. He watched Spirit's eyes start to lose focus as his soul began to weaken.

"Shake off the chains of the DWMA," Griffin said, his tone now giddy. "You and I together can depose Lord Death and finally create a free world!"

Stein looked up again. Griffin was still employing Soul Protect, but he felt he could see through him nonetheless beyond the laughter and boast. And he was far from the bright young classmate he had once known.

He pursed his lips, words failing him, but then looked down with a sharp intake of breath as he felt the grip at his shoulder weaken. He watched Spirit's eyes glaze over as his bloodied hand slipped away and heavily hit the sand.

"Hehhehehheh..."

Stein felt a strange desire to hold on tighter, but instead he carefully lay Spirit on his side. He looked at the dried blood on his face and then down to the wash of red below, intermixed with the tatters of the green shirt and the pink of torn flesh beneath it all.

He slowly rose to his feet and lifted his arms. Where he'd caught Spirit his sleeves were entirely red with the slick, fresh blood. Then his gaze rose to his hands. Peripherally he saw Griffin straighten up, his mad laughter finally ceasing.

"So. Which world do you choose, Franken Stein?"

Stein stared at his hands and the smears of blood now staining them. He knew what had gone wrong.

He had allowed Griffin's taunts to weaken his resolve. He had doubted what he knew to be true, and doubted himself. Doubted his place. And thanks to that weakness he had permitted to enter his soul...

He looked back at Spirit, lifeless and with long, unnatural shadows of the slough grass falling over his unmoving form under the rising sun.

"He was always so bossy, anyway."

Stein looked back at Griffin. The grin on his face was sickening.

"Soul Force!"

This time, his resolve was sure. The electricity that manifested out of his wavelength sizzled from his hand over and into his opponent at the same time a sonic shock wave from the speed of the attack cracked in the air around them.

Griffin's eyes were wide with surprise, not having expected the blow, and his grunt of pain came out strangled as he coughed up blood as a result of the fierce attack.

Stein swept his former compatriot's feet out from under him while he was distracted, dropping him hard on his back. He immediately knelt next to the enemy, striking again with both hands.

"Soul Force!"

The shock wave was stronger this time, the small sonic boom echoing against the butte and through the air as the sand rippled out from beneath them. Another vomitous cough was Griffin's response, but then he cackled evilly as blood ran down his cheek. Stein watched one of the madman's arms transform back into the spiked bludgeon, ready to retaliate even as he spit blood into the sand.

The meister sat back on his heels with a heavy sigh.

"Sutures."

"Wha...what...? What did you do to me!?" Griffin snarled as he struggled, now immobilized.

Stein closed his eyes to aid his concentration. He blindly felt in his pocket for a cigarette, but gave up as the package slipped through his blood-covered fingers. He said nothing in reply, not caring to explain the special technique and needing to focus.

He opened his eyes and looked beyond his furious opponent to where Spirit still lie unmoving. The numbness was increasing. A familiar apathy was seeping into his soul, and he fought to stall it off until he could finish his task.

"I'm disappointed in you, Stein."

His eyes narrowed. With hardly a thought, he pulled a scalpel from his pocket.

"I think I'll cut you into pieces now."

He meant the words, but found his hand didn't move on his brain's command. He would find no pleasure here.

If the mission had in fact been a test from Lord Death, he had failed. Even if the battle was won...the loss of a weapon was unforgiveable for a meister. Especially like this.

He felt his control slipping, and he grit his teeth and bowed his head as he watched Griffin yank his transformed arm free, the soul thread sutures that had held it snapping and vanishing into the sand. He reached up to turn the screw in his head.

"Stein."

His head snapped up at the sound of the weak voice. Somehow, Spirit was conscious. He watched as his injured partner blinked once, twice, and then weakly slid his arm across the sand toward him.

"How..." Stein breathed even as he rose to his feet in understanding.

"You can't win!" Griffin said desperately, swiping uselessly at Stein's legs as he stepped over him. But as the captive continued struggling, the soul thread sutures at his knees began to snap.

Spirit's arm rose up barely a few inches from the ground, shaking, and Stein's bloodied hand gripped his. A brief moment and a flash of magical light, and Stein once again held the death scythe.

His grip was sure, and this time he didn't hesitate for an instant. Without ceremony he spun back around and fiercely brought the blade down into the chest of their enemy with a horrible, wet crunching sound, feeling it pierce all the way through the man's back and sink deeply into the sand.

He held tightly to the staff, his breaths heavy as the red eyes of the man he once might have called friend stared up at him in shock.

"A godless world is doomed to madness," Stein said, as the life began slipping from the man's eyes. With this attack the Soul Protect was finally broken, and Stein saw with despair that a shriveled, evil soul was all that was left of Griffin.

The look of shock remained on their old classmate's face as the enemy breathed his last, and once the slain body had expired the soul separated and hovered above it, ready to be consumed.

Stein let go. It was with an involuntary cry of pain that Spirit transformed again, not even attempting to gain his feet and falling instantly. But Stein was already on his knees.

He caught him again and stared grimly at the wounds and then at Spirit's pained expression. But when the scythe opened his eyes his gaze went beyond Stein, to the floating, corrupted soul.

"You want that?" Stein asked flatly.

"Not really," Spirit said with a slight shake of his head, and then he passed out.

This time Stein held on tighter.

[digital-corruption]

To be honest, this chapter was ready to post several days ago, but I was hesitant to post it as I had no idea how I was approaching the next story arc. Now that I have had alcohol, I have some ideas. They're probably trash and I will likely cringe when I am sober again, but let's enjoy the buzz while it lasts! On a side note, community labels... WTF do they do? Let's find out! 🤣

Did I mention I've had alcohol? 😂 WTF number am I up to? Oh yeah...

It feels shorter than I remember...

Unrecognisable Part 43

Twelve hours later, we not only had the location of Cyan’s hideout, but we had used the CCTV camera covering the area along with a camera of a similar angle to create fake footage of us entering the building. Jake seamlessly cut the two clips together to create the perfect fake. All that was left was sending it to the police.

We debated on how best to observe the fruits of our labour. The safest option would’ve been staying back and watching over the CCTV, but that just felt so empty to us. No, we had to see it in person. So we set up on the third floor of the building across the road. We found a spot next to a set of large windows with a perfect view of area. I stood watch at the window while Jake sat on the floor and loaded up his laptop.

“It’s quiet, are you sure they’re there?” I questioned nervously.

My hand started to tremble from the anxiety. I shoved my hand in my hoodie pocket to try to keep it under control. I was suddenly reminded of the drugs and their weight in my pocket. I tried my hardest to ignore them, but somehow I couldn’t stop myself from playing with the pills idly.

“After last night, what do you expect? A giant street party?” Jake joked.

“Shouldn’t we make sure they’re actually there? Oh, let’s order them a pizza!” I suggested.

“No, that would be sus,” he shot me down. “Although, we could send them some prostitutes.”

“And that would be less sus?” I raised my eyebrow accusatorily.

“Cyan can’t say no to women looking to have a good time,” he shrugged. “But that puts the women at risk.”

“Then let’s not,” I sighed. “We’ll just have to assume they didn’t sneak out.”

“Oh!” Jake said suddenly, leaving me hanging for more. His eyes darted back and forth across his laptop screen.

“Jake!” I exclaimed. “You can’t say ‘Oh!’ and nothing else!”

“Sorry, it’s just Cyan put up a message on the dark web. He’s trying to reach out to me to make amends,” he commented.

“What, really?” I said in disbelief.

“Oh, it’s a complete trap,” he laughed. “Cyan wouldn’t be able to catch a hungry mouse.”

“So no second thoughts then?” I chortled.

“Not in the slightest. Shall we proceed?” he looked up at me.

I glanced at the building across the road and bit my lip. This was the first time I ever enacted something so heinous as revenge. This was so completely different to helping get on revenge on a friend’s cheating boyfriend by getting him fired from his job. This could have severe consequences and yet I struggled to feel any remorse. Yet my throat was feeling tighter by the second. My heartbeat pounded in my head. I slipped the pills out of my pocket and glanced down at them, then shoved them back into my pocket.

“Do it,” I said firmly.

Jake hit the enter button on his laptop with such impact that I swear the sound echoed through the empty building. He shifted his laptop aside and came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

“It is done,” he whispered in my ear.

Even after all this time together, his voice still sent shivers down my spine. I closed my eyes and snuggled against him, taking in his warmth and his scent.

“Should we place bets on the response time?” I joked uncomfortably.

“I can think of ways to pass the time,” he teased.

My hands started to shake again. I looked down and clenched my fists to control it. Jake put his hands over them lovingly and gave them a gentle squeeze. I unclenched my fists and he slipped his fingers between mine.

“Feeling anxious?” he asked.

I could only nod in response. He kissed my temple and my cheek, then made a trail of kisses from behind my ear down my neck to the sensitive nape. I knew he was trying to get me to relax, but it didn’t seem appropriate. I squirmed out his arms and turned around.

“Really now?” I questioned.

“It’s a good way to pass the time,” he smirked.

He put his hand to the side of my face knowing I would subconsciously lean into it and expose my neck for him to kiss again. A moan escaped my lips as my body started to betray my mind. I grabbed him by roots of his hair and pulled him off to kiss him passionately. He smiled and slipped his tongue between my lips, deepening the kiss. Gently he pushed me back against the window while his hands ran up and down my back, grabbing hungrily at my hoodie. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him in close as our tongues danced. Despite how much he was trying to distract me, I couldn’t settle into him. I had to break away to catch my breath. Jake sucked and nibbled on my bottom lip impatiently for the next round.

“Hang on,” I frowned.

Jake pulled away slightly, confused by my interruption. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pills. Holding them in my hand, they felt heavy.

“Are you sure?” he raised his eyebrow.

“You said we’re safe up here,” I shrugged. “It will help me relax, right?”

“It will,” he confirmed. “It is up to you.”

“Well since we have no alcohol, this will have to do,” I declared.

I opened the container and dropped a pill into my hand. Jake took it out of my palm and broke the pill in half, dropping one half back into my hand and other into the container.

“Try a smaller dose first,” he suggested. “I can’t have you falling asleep on me.”

I swallowed the half without hesitation, then closed the container and shoved it back in my pocket. Jake smiled and pulled me in for another deep kiss. His hands slipped under the back of my hoodie and shirt. Feeling his fingers on the sensitive skin of the small of my back still caused me to gasp, which I swear he devoured. Slowly I felt the tension across my body ease while different feelings took over. Soon I was no longer satisfied with simply making out with him. Judging by Jake’s hands shifting to my front, trying to push under my bra, I could tell he was hungry for more as well. Self-control slipped away as the room became unbearably hot on that cold night.

“Fuck it!” I huffed.

Without another word our clothes fell to the ground and all hope for restraint went right out the window that Jake pressed me against. We didn’t even notice the police forces had arrived until we heard the gunshots from across the road. Holding each other close, we took a moment to observe the chaos and appreciate our victory. Several of Cyan’s cronies were being brought out in handcuffs and shoved into armoured vehicles while heavily armed agents went back into the building to finish subduing the rest. Turning back to each other, we continued. The sounds of mayhem only fuelled our lust more. With the chemicals now in my system, I lost all concept of reason. Thankfully our enemies were too busy dealing with each other to notice us in the third-floor window having sex during their struggle.

By the time we had finished and got ourselves dressed, the road was empty again. The only sign that anyone had been there were the den’s doors left wide open with smoke pillowing out. I stared in disbelief at how well our plan had worked out.

“Let’s go down and check it out,” Jake said suddenly.

I did a double take, “What? Are you sure?”

“Yeah, we should loot the place before they come back,” he smirked.

I shrugged, “Ok, let’s go.”

Jake packed up his laptop then led the way back downstairs to the ground floor. We exited out the back and snuck around to the front. Before crossing the road, we made sure no one was in sight, then ran to the other side. As we walked up to the open door, my heart raced. I half expected someone or something to jump out at us, but nothing happened. Jake took out his gun and held it at the ready as we entered the building. There were bullet holes along the walls, which seemed fresh, but I couldn’t tell if there were from tonight. Going further in, I spotted the sources of the smoke as there were a few used grenades scattered about.

Heading deeper into the building, we found a lounge room where the thugs hung out. Judging by the blood on the floor, at least two people were severely injured if not killed. Across the hall there was a kitchen area that was in absolute disarray, but it was hard to tell if that was how it normally looked. The round dining table there had the remnants of several people’s dinners. More blood was splattered on the floor. At the end of the hallway there was a large, open room with several chemistry stations set up. It didn’t take genius to work out this is where Cyan’s crew manufactured drugs. Jake checked the fridge and cabinets, but the SWAT team had cleaned out the space before they left, leaving almost nothing behind. Still Jake grabbed anything that looked somewhat useful. Walking around the room, I felt my foot kick something. To my surprise, I looked down and found a laptop. I picked it up waved it at Jake.

“Think you can do something with this?” I asked.

“Don’t know, but we can take it with and find out,” he smiled and shoved it into his backpack.

Having finished sweeping the building and feeling confident that it was indeed empty now, we went around taking whatever had the slightest use. I found a duffle bag and grabbed spare food and drinks, including some bottles of spirits. Jake checked some nooks and crannies for anything that was hidden. He did find some hidden stashes of cash so it wasn’t for naught.

After filling our bags with loot, we left and trekked back to our hideout under the light of the moon with a bounce in our step. As soon as we got back I took the food to the kitchen while Jake took the laptops upstairs. By the time I had finished unloading the food and drink, he was running several scans on the found laptop. With a bottle of peach schnapps from our spoils, I leaned against the desk across from him, where the rest of our loot had been emptied out.

“Well? How does it look?” I gestured to the computer before taking a sip from the bottle.

“It looks like you have your own laptop,” he said confidently.

“Nice! I hope it’s not crap,” I laughed.

“It’s a fairly good machine, actually, but that doesn’t surprise me. Cyan doesn’t like to skimp on his electronics,” he commented.

I picked up one of the stashes of cash and sniffed it, “I’d say we did fairly well.”

“We did,” he nodded.

Jake walked over to me while the computers were busy and took the cash out of my hand, placing it carefully back down on the desk beside me. Then he took the bottle and took a swig and handed it back to me. I took another sip and put the bottle down on the desk before wrapping my arms around Jake’s neck and pulling him close. Our mouths met in a heated kiss. His hands drifted down to my hips, gripping them tightly as he grinded against me. Moaning against his lips, it became clear that there was still a lot of sexual energy flowing through us. Without breaking away, I reached beside us and pushed everything off the desk, except for the alcohol, then I popped up onto the desk and pulled Jake close between my legs. Jake slipped his tongue into my mouth again and rubbed it against mine. It didn’t take much more before we were tearing each other’s clothes off again, continuing the night of passion.