#anyway continue streaming FACE it is good for your skin and heart

[rantingravingliving]

Shut up, fuck off and just listen to this with your headphones on. Park Jimin sounds fucking amazing.

So fucking amazing all I am hearing (and seeing) is how great his debut is despite people trying to drag him for almost anything.

Well, you know how karma works, right?

Anyway, Alone is my fave FACE track, but SMF Pt. 2 will always make me gasp whenever I hear it and more so when I see Jimin performs it.

So you, fuck off your opps. Jimin has shown what he can do, and the world responded with applause and praises.

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter iii

✑ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader (not poly)

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 5.3k+

Warnings: some time skips (none too huge), oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, lots of introspection, tornado of emotions, morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of broken home/families, themes of abandonment, mention of love bombing, reoccurring nightmares, sleep paralysis, mentions of therapy, struggles of self-blame, regret, guilt, etc., mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, death (minor character), life-threatening accident (major character)

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: ANGST ANGST ANGST...don't say I never warned you hahaha. Anyway, once again, I had an amazing time writing this! (although nervous af 👉🏼 👈🏼) Just FYI, there are some time skips as this starts a few weeks after the gala! So to clarify, it’s now 3 months since oc’s divorce was officially finalized, as in done (the process itself took way longer). The chapter continues from there and yeah, the pace is picked up. Okay, let’s go! Enjoy! 🥰

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Fresh linen. Warm breeze. The smell and sound of the ocean.

You know this place too well, like a memory you hoped to have forgotten. Why are you here now? You glance around, taking in the familiar details—the blank ceiling above, the soft comforter that curls around your body like silk against your skin, and delicate rose petals scattered at the foot of the bed. It’s exactly as it was before — it feels exactly the same; too quiet, too peaceful, and too good to be true.

The sunlight streaming through the window is blinding, yet it draws you in with a force you can't resist. Carefully, you stand up, your feet meeting the cool wood floor, and you shiver. Each step you take towards the window feels heavier, like wading through water. When you reach the window, you see the sandy beach below, the waves beating rhythmically against the shore. It’s beautiful, but the painful kind.

To the left, a young couple, not much older than yourself, their hands tightly intertwined, as if afraid to let go. To the right, an older couple sitting further up the beach, comfortably silent as they take in the horizon, reminiscent of their many years together. You always dreamt of achieving the latter, yet here you stand, having neither, and the chances of ever obtaining it growing dimmer with each passing day.

For many, this was supposed to be a place of happiness, a symbol of love, promises, and new beginnings, but not for you. For you, it was a cocoon, trapping you in a deceptive comfort. You close your eyes, trying to steady your rapid breathing, yet it doesn’t prove to be of much help. Images from your past that you’ve tried blocking out of your mind time and time again suddenly resurface — the arguments, the tears, the feeling of everything and nothing at the same time.

“You’re up early,” His voice startles you, causing you to spin around in a panic. At that moment, your heart tightens in your chest, and a cold sweat forms on your brow. You thought you were alone. You’re certain of it. Yet the sight of your ex-husband standing only a few feet away, his hair still damp from his morning shower, is enough to leave you completely speechless.

"Why are you here?" you whisper, your voice trembling.

"Why are you here?" he counters, his dark eyes piercing into yours. "Isn't this what you wanted? To remember us, to remember how it felt to be together?”

What? This isn't making any sense. Why is he talking to you as if he were a ghost? Your eyes search frantically around the room until you spot it—the wedding band on his finger. No, not again. You hear yourself plead, but the words don't leave your lips. All at once, the room begins to feel smaller, the walls closing in on you. You're stuck in another manifestation of your past, this time reliving your honeymoon, three years ago in Greece.

"I didn't want this," you say, your voice barely audible. "I wanted to forget this."

"But you can't forget, can you?" he says, stepping closer. “You remember this view. You remember the floors and the walls. You remember that we had our first time together here and promised our devotion to each other."

“That’s not fair, Jungkook," you reply, taking a step back, "it's not fair at all, you left me. You don't get to patronize me like this."

“We both know our marriage came with stipulations, __. So when did I ever give you a reason to stay? Or to love me?”

You’re back in the bed, the sheets now suffocating rather than comforting. The sound of the ocean is louder, more insistent, drowning out your thoughts. You want to scream, to run, but you’re paralyzed by the fear, the guilt, the regret.

"This isn’t real,” you say to yourself, tears streaming down your face. “I’m dreaming, none of this is happening.”

“You can't escape what we had, or what we lost. We’ll always be here, together __, in this place,” he says softly, reaching out to touch your hand.

"No," you whisper, pulling your hand away. "I need to wake up. I need to let go...of you."

The room fades, his figure dissolving into the shadows. The sound of the ocean becomes a distant murmur as you fight to open your eyes. Wake up, please wake up. It's your own pleads chanting in your head. Finally, with a gasp, you awake, the nightmare diminishing like vapor.

“Fuck,” you curse, fingers gripping your sheets, “just another damn dream.” Rolling onto your back, you take a deep breath before reaching out for the glass of water on your nightstand. Its coolness soothes your dry throat. You reach for your phone next, checking the time—4:47 AM. Too early to start the day, too late to attempt falling back to sleep.

Your thumb hovers over Jimin’s name in your text threads. It would be 10 AM where he is. You consider sending a message, but you find yourself at a loss for words. Forget it, you lock your phone and rise from your bed, you’ll go for a walk instead. Yeah, it’s brisk outside, but the fresh air will help clear your mind.

After tossing on your warmest coat and scarf, you head outside, the sun beginning to break over the horizon. At first, you wander aimlessly, lost in thought as you pass the odd person or two on the sidewalk. One individual accidentally knocks into you, yet he's quick to apologize. You easily understand their rush; perhaps they've just finished the night shift and are eager to reach the comfort of home.

You imagine their loved ones who must be waiting for them. You could be wrong, and maybe you're biased, but the image you depict is a future you once envisioned for yourself—one of laughter, love, and a warm family. It’s a dream you secretly carried as a child, amidst your unstable upbringing. But as the years passed, what was once a lifelong aspiration felt more and more elusive, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. It seems, in the end, it was just a dream…nothing more.

Of course, you've achieved other goals instead, success in your career for one. It's what you wanted most the more you became an adult. Even before Jungkook came in the picture you were thriving. Yes, you needed investors to expand, but you had already made a strong name for yourself, hence the reason his company even reached out to you for a partnership in the first place.

The second, and more formidable goal you’ve achieved was saving your company. You built your business with an earnest heart, good morals, and an ambition to serve a community. You couldn’t let it all be washed out by a larger, greedier industry giant. You had to do something. Too bad your judgment was skewed the day you saw a similar ambition in Jungkook’s eyes; he was just as determined as you to save what was his.

For a while you got what you wanted, stability for your business. But you got too invested, too short-sighted to anticipate that one day, it would all feel hollow without someone proper to share it with. Alas, your prior hopes, the ones you thought were buried long ago, began returning to you as if they were an overwhelming tsunami.

You wanted warmth.

You wanted intimacy.

You wanted a home.

You sought companionship with Jungkook but no, you read the signs all wrong. Once you dropped the L word, his attentiveness towards you skyrocketed. He began calling you while you were apart, surprising you with little gifts, and setting more time aside so you could both take Bam to the dog park on free days. But then it all stopped. After months of showering you with attention, his efforts exhausted him, so he looked for the first exit out.

You remember getting the text one afternoon— When will you be home tonight? We need to talk about something. Selfishly, you hoped he was going to tell you that you could take that trip to Fiji together. You had been hinting at it for the last two weeks. Of course, you were wrong because the last time you checked, trip itineraries didn’t come with divorce papers. At that moment, you realized that Jungkook didn’t try to love you in the slightest, he tried loving at you; love bombing 101. Your ties are now completely severed.

Yesterday marked three months since your divorce was finalized. You didn’t cry like you thought you would, but you did meet with Melody that day. As your therapist, she offered you her empathy, validation, and perspective. You feel you’ve gotten better since you started meeting with her, finally beginning to heal. Yet the unsettling dream that haunted your sleep last night shows you there are many things still left to resolve, feelings you need to confront, but where to start?

You love your ex-husband, but why?

Can it even be called love?

And do you really need him to love you back?

While you can only offer fragments of an answer for the first two, you seem to have a better-formed answer for the last.

No, you don’t need Jungkook to love you. He’s proven to you time and time again that you are not the one he can bear his heart to. He’s always reiterating that he wants you to find someone else, someone more deserving of you, whatever that means. Likely, it’s all projection. Out of the two of you, he’s the one more likely to re-marry.

As for you, you’ll always love him, at least a semblance of it. After all, he was once a part of you. But what was once a part of you, doesn’t need to be anymore. You have to let him go...though you wish you didn't have to.

You continue walking straight until you find yourself drawn to a small park overlooking the city skyline. It's fairly empty, with only a few people nearby. As you settle onto a weathered bench, you take in the view before you. It stretches endlessly. Sunrises have always held a special place in your heart—the amber glow breaking through the abyss of darkness as if a beacon of hope.

"You'll get through this __," you reassure yourself, “one day at a time.”

“Happy six months, boss!”

A goofy, boxy smile graces the man’s lips as he leans against the doorframe of your office. You take in his appearance: crème-colored sweater paired with dark brown slacks, the fabric impeccably tailored to his tall, lean frame. His ebony hair is perfectly parted down the center and feathered out to either side of his face, giving him a soft, approachable look. The glasses are new though, round with a hint of gold. Though a minor accessory, they seem to tie the rest of the look together.

Classy, yet cozy, you hum silently, it suits him.

Everything about the way he’s dressed today complements his features—not that it could be any other way, as Taehyung could never not look good in something. You learned that the hard way when you opted against a gaudy shirt and pant set your stylists suggested he wear for a commercial. Taehyung, being a free spirit, decided to try it on for kicks, and yeah, it strangely worked. He ended up shooting the entire commercial with it on. That video’s gotten your business the highest engagement rate across all your media platforms to this day.

“Mr. Kim, does six months of working together really merit a celebratory drop-in?” You lean back in your desk chair, arms folded as you narrow your eyes at the man. You're taunting him, not that he minds.

“Please,__,” he starts, stepping further into the room, his presence effortlessly filling the space. “The only person that still calls me that is the intern who works on set with us. Makes me feel old, like I’m double my real age.”

“Well, you are older than both of us.”

Taehyung gives you the look, a mix of amusement and mild aggravation.

“Two years is hardly considered older, but if you’re done trying to prod me, I’d like to ask you a series of serious questions.”

“Okay, what?” You straighten your back, curious to know what he’s thinking.

“Red or white wine?” He waits for your response, eyes seemingly hopeful. You're unsure where he's going with this, so you delay your response, suspicious of the spontaneity of the inquiry.

“Red,” you respond, cautiously. Taehyung seems pleased.

“Strawberries or blueberries?”

“Strawberries, though I prefer cherries most."

“Science or literature?"

"Literature." You surprise him with this one. "I like books, vintage ones."

"Do a lot of reading in your spare time?" he asks.

"When I get some, yes."

"Me too. Tolstoy?"

"Occasionally," you answer. "Where are you going with this, Taehyung?"

He shrugs. "Just making conversation." He pauses before continuing, “I also happen to know a place that offers all those things plus private bookings. How about you and I go for dinner tonight, as colleagues? If you hate the wine, I’ll drink it for you.”

The weight of his request hits you like a ton of bricks. Apart from a handful of social events, you and Taehyung haven't exactly mingled outside of the office. His sudden invitation to go out for dinner takes you by surprise, especially considering the nature of your professional relationship. However, you can't deny the subtle shifts in his behavior, the way he's been checking in on you more often, especially since the Winter Gala. Weeks have passed since then, but, no doubt, the memory of that night still lingers in both your minds—the shaming from a bitter business competitor, the unwanted press shining a light on your divorce, and your ex-husband who so easily approached you like it was nothing.

Taehyung suggested for you to slip away through the back door with him, offering to drive you home himself rather than leaving you with your limo driver. But you declined, feeling embarrassed that he wasn't merely a witness to the night's events, but also made to be a spectacle himself. You never wanted him to feel like he had to pity you or coax you through your personal trials. Being a good colleague is one thing, but he didn't need to go above and beyond.

“I don’t know if I can join you tonight, I'm sorry. I have a lot to do,” you say, your voice wavering slightly. It's not far from the truth with the mountain of business reports and budget plans to look over. Though your business remains functioning, it's a lot to maintain, especially with the number of investors having withdrawn their support once news got out about your marital separation. It's unfortunate how much a person's situation and the things they've built can change on someone else's dime.

“You sure?" Taehyung tries again, careful not to sound pushy. "The place isn’t overly posh, but we could go elsewhere if you’d prefer."

“I’m sorry, Taehyung, maybe another time?” you say, fingers fidgeting with a few documents on your desk, a nervous habit you developed ages ago. “I-"

“I understand,” he says, his expression softening, a hint of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masks it with a gentle smile. "I have a film shoot that might go late anyway. Speaking of which, I'm expected on set in about half an hour so I'm going to head out, but if you change your mind, you know how to reach me."

You nod, recalling having his contact in your phone. The two of you agreed it would be easier to coordinate meetings and schedules this way. "I will, thank you. Good luck with your filming."

As you watch him leave, a twinge of guilt tugs at your conscience. Perhaps you shouldn't have dismissed him so quickly, considering how insistent he seemed. It's as if he was genuinely looking forward to the affair.

No, you can't entertain it any further. You have no way of knowing how far the night might've led—it's best to leave Kim Taehyung alone.

When you declined Taehyung's invitation to get dinner, you didn’t expect it to result in not seeing or hearing from him for the next week and a half. As an endorser, he doesn't work at the office regularly, coming and going as needed and since you hadn’t had any promotional projects for him recently, his absence seemed normal at first.

But this was Kim Taehyung. The same Taehyung who loved making spontaneous visits to the company, especially towards the end of the week. He often came in once, twice, sometimes three times a week to talk with Namjoon, your secretary, in particular. Somehow, the pair had become friends, and since Namjoon’s desk was near yours, Taehyung would drop by whenever he saw your door open. So, not hearing from him for 11 days straight was strange, like he'd vanished.

It was now Friday evening, the clock pushing 5 pm. You consider texting him to make sure he's okay, but wouldn’t that be hypocritical? You had agreed with yourself to leave him alone. Maybe he was on vacation, perhaps at a vineyard, or had taken on another film project. Being a highly talented actor, Taehyung had no shortage of casting directors contacting him for their movies and TV shows.

Embarrassingly, you hadn’t actually seen any of his movies. You enjoyed a good rom-com now and then, like the ones Taehyung starred in, but you usually opted for something more mindless when you had the time to watch anything.

You can imagine the loyal following he has though, as Taehyung was the epitome of a "dream boat" with his natural good looks and expressive eyes. He must be good at kiss scenes, which must be especially difficult for anyone dating him. You know you'd have a hard time accepting it at least, the fact that your flawless actor boyfriend was off making out with equally beautiful co-stars on set, that is. Anyway, as your endorser, maybe you should try supporting his films a bit more. There had to be one that would catch your eye.

Curious, you open a new tab on your phone and search for him.

"Holy fuck," the curse leaves your lips the minute the search returns. Dozens of articles display on your phone screen at once, all covering South Korean actor Kim Taehyung's recent motorcycle accident. You checked the publishing date—six hours ago. “Taehyung’s in the hospital. He’s in the fucking hospital!”

Panicked, you leave your office to speak with your secretary.

“Ms. __,” Namjoon greets you immediately, a trace of hesitation in his tone upon seeing your frazzled state. “Is everything alright?”

“Joon,” you refer to him by his pet name, “Did you know that Taehyung’s in the hospital?”

“What?” He seems as shocked as you, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm.

“It happened this morning around eleven or something. It was a collision, a motorcycle accident. Oh god, he’s—he’s been taken to the ER,” you choke out the words, struggling to maintain your composure as you try recalling one of the articles you skimmed. “We have to go. I have to go right now.”

“I’m coming with you.” Namjoon leaps from his chair, grabbing his keys from his desk drawer. “I’ll drive.”

“No,” you stop him, “I don’t know how long this’ll be and you usually work until 5:30, so I don't want you to have to be stuck at the hospital with me. I want you to be able to call it an early night if you want. We'll take separate cars over.”

“Okay,” he nods. “I’ll meet you over there then?”

“Yeah.” You nod back, clutching your keys harder in your palm. “Yeah, sounds good.” You turn around to head for the nearest exit, but your secretary stops you mid-step.

“__,” he calls you by your name, having known you for the past decade permits him to do so. He softens his eyes when he sees the worry in your own clear as day. “He’s gonna be okay. We have to believe that. Please drive safe.”

“You too,” you say, then disappear from his sight.

When you arrive, it’s a madhouse. Sirens blare as ambulances rush into the hospital parking lot, doctors and nurses race from room to room, and fans—so many fans—crowd outside, all waving signs of comfort and support.

“I'm here to see Kim Taehyung,” you say urgently to the charge nurse. She recognizes you immediately and throws you a look of distaste, but you’re too focused on the emergency at hand to care. “I’m sure you know who I am, but I need to see him. We work together, we're colleagues.”

“Ms. __,” she replies, surprisingly calm and collected amidst her obvious dislike of you. “I’m afraid he’s currently receiving serious medical attention and won’t be able to have any visitors at the moment.”

“I’ll wait,” you blurt out the words faster than you anticipate. You feel like you're eating your words from earlier about leaving him alone, but this is different—his life is on the line. "I can wait for him.”

“Visiting hours are only until 8 pm. I really don’t think—”

“Please,” you interrupt, your voice stern and urgent. “He's part of my team. He's my...friend. I have to know if he’s okay.”

The nurse hesitates, her expression softening slightly as she sees the genuine concern in your eyes. “Alright,” she finally says, her tone firm but kinder. “You can wait in the family lounge, but I can’t promise you’ll be able to see him anytime soon."

“Thank you,” you say, relief flooding through you. She directs you to a quiet room down the hall, away from the commotion where you're better able to calm your racing thoughts. You find a seat in the far corner immediately and send a quick text to Namjoon, letting him know where you are.

As you wait, the minutes drag by painfully slow. You can’t stop replaying the articles in your mind from earlier, the words “motorcycle accident” echoing like a mantra. How did this even happen? How bad was his condition? How much strain is this going to put on his acting career? You wish you knew.

A handful of nurses enter the lounge occasionally, calling out names and providing updates, but none of them are Taehyung’s. You find your ears burning every time the door opens, heart racing, only to sink back into your seat when it’s not about him.

Finally, you catch sight of Namjoon, his face mirroring your concern. He spots you immediately and rushes over, taking a seat in the chair beside you. “Any news?” he asks, his voice low and urgent.

“Not yet,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “They said he’s receiving serious medical attention and don't know when we'll be able to see him. We have to leave by 8.”

Namjoon nods, his expression grim but unwavering “We’ll wait together.”

"If you need to leave sooner than—"

"I know," he interrupts. "I appreciate it, but please let me be here too."

You sit in silence from then on, exhaustion beginning to weigh heavy on both your shoulders. It's not until 7:35 when a doctor walks into the lounge, his tired eyes scan the room until they land on you and Namjoon.

“Are you here for Kim Taehyung?” he asks. "I'm Dr. Min."

You nod, your heart in your throat.

“He’s stable for now,” Dr. Min explains, “but he's still in critical condition. We’re doing everything we can.”

“Can we see him?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He sighs. “Only for a few minutes. And you need to be prepared—he’s heavily sedated and has sustained significant injuries.”

“I understand,” you reply, mentally preparing yourself for what’s to come.

Dr. Min leads you through a maze of hallways until you reach the ICU. As you enter Taehyung’s room, the sight of him hooked up to machines and covered in bandages nearly breaks you. You take a deep breath and step closer, Namjoon right next to you.

“Taehyung,” you whisper, but he remains motionless, his breathing steady and rhythmic. The severity of his injuries is evident in the way he lies.

“We're here, Taehyung,” Namjoon continues, noticing your slightly frozen state. “We’re both here for you. Please, fight through this. You and I, we're good pals, remember? Like brothers. You have to—"

Although the more collected one before, Namjoon begins to struggle with his words. You place a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Having known him for 10 years, you know that despite his strong exterior, he has one of the softest souls you know.

"I think I have to go, __. It'll be better if I see him when he's awake. I want to stay longer, but I just don't know if I can."

"I understand, we can't stay much longer anyway. Go home and get some rest. Dr. Min will call us when he's awake and able to talk."

After you give him a hug, Namjoon leaves the room, leaving you alone with Taehyung. You end up pulling up a chair beside his bed and slowly reach out to touch his hand. It's instinctive for you, the need to feel his heartbeat overpowering any other thought.

"I'm so sorry this happened to you, Taehyung," you start, your voice a mere murmur. "You'll push through this, right? Like in the movies you film. I confess I haven't seen any of them yet, but—but I will! That's how I found out about all this actually. We hadn't seen you for nearly two weeks, so I searched you up. Not in a weird way though, okay? Not like...anyway, I'm sorry I said no to you that day. When you asked to go for dinner, it threw me off. This whole thing with my ex-husband just has my mind in fifty million directions, so I promise it wasn't you. I hope you didn't think that."

"You've always seemed to show up for me, whether it's for the good of the company or even a little emotionally in some aspects. With the reputation I have these days, I'll always be grateful that you chose to work with me. You have a good heart, Taehyung, so much that I think if we ever got close, I think it might be unbearable for me," you pause, a couple of tears slipping down your face.

Just then, a creaking of the room's door momentarily pulls your attention away. Dr. Min stands a few feet away, clearing his throat—a gentle but firm signal that it's time for you to leave.

"I have to go soon, but I'll be back tomorrow, okay? Even if you're still asleep or not, I'll stop in and sit with you for a while because...because I need to be sure that you'll be alright. Namjoon will come see you too when he's ready. But I'll see you in the morning, alright Kim?"

You squeeze Taehyung's hand gently before heading out of the room, thanking the medical staff along the way.

When you get home, the first thing you do is head straight for the bathroom. Your whole body feels riddled with stress and exhaustion, and you know that the only thing that can offer even the slightest amount of solace is the warmth of water.

Yet not four minutes after immersing yourself in your tub does your phone ring, demanding your attention. Being this late into the evening, you figure it has to be Jimin.

But you're wrong.

When you reach to answer the call, it's actually an unrecognizable number that's flashing on the screen. You hesitate for a moment, debating whether to answer or let it go to voicemail.

"Hello?" you answer cautiously, curiosity getting the best of you.

There's a brief pause on the other end before his voice comes through, words slightly muddled. "Hey, it's me," he says, his tone soft. "I've been...I've been thinking about my life, you know? About everything.

"J-Jungkook?" Your heart sinks as you quickly decipher the owner of the voice, but then it hardens. It's obvious from the slurring of his words that he's been drinking. "Why on earth are you calling me? And at this godforsaken hour too."

"I told you...I've been thinking about my life."

"I'm hanging up."

"No, please, stay on the line for five minutes. Please, I have to tell you...what I've been thinking."

"You have three minutes," you sigh, ready for anything (except what he was about to spring on you).

"I wanted to save my company," he continues, his voice wavering slightly. "For my mom's sake, you know? My dad owned it and stuff but she was the one who was behind all the technology...and that's why I married you. You...reminded me of her."

Your breath catches in your throat as he reveals the truth behind his actions, the raw honesty of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You knew very little of Jungkook's mother, too, as he didn't speak of her often.

"And then...then there's the real reason I divorced you," he admits, his voice breaking slightly. "My parents had a terrible marriage, you know? My mom...she had to manage my dad's temper for years...he didn't love her at all. He just married her because she was smart and could make him rich. It made her so unhappy, but you know she loved him so much. She...she passed away when I was 16, and...and I didn't want that for you. I didn't want you to be trapped like she was, because I'm like my dad you know? My feelings are...weird... I never know what the hell I'm...feeling. I'm probably not making a lot of sense am I?"

"I'm trying to understand." You want to hang up here and now but every time he speaks, you cant bring yourself to do it. The pain in his voice cuts through you like a knife, and it's a side of him that you've rarely seen before.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry for being such a dumbass that day I got my stuff. That was like, six months ago and I still hate myself for it. I shouldn't have made an advance on you like that. I was...I was immature, and I wasn't thinking."

"After the gala," he continues, his words becoming more coherent as he speaks. "I...I felt even more guilty, you know? Because, I still have a photo of you and Bam on my dresser. It's small, but I've tried to put it away over and over and over again, but I can't do it. I don't know what's wrong with me...it's almost a year since we lived under the same goddam roof and I can still smell your perfume, I can still remember how you laugh with both your lips and your eyes...the way you scrunch you nose when—"

"What are you trying to say Jungkook?" You interrupt. "That you're sorry and can't get me out of your head, so you need my forgiveness to move on?"

"No! That's...that's not it at all. I mean, I do want your forgiveness but—"

"Well, what the fuck is it?" You hate how aggressive your voice is sounding, but the obscene amount of incoherent information he's revealing to you is overwhelming. "It's 10 freaking pm at night, I had a long day, I'm sleep deprived, and Taehyung's in the fucking hospital which is so distressing, so I'm sorry, but I can't handle any more of your cryptic messages!"

"I think I might love you," he finally says, his voice raising as well. "I know I'm...I'm being a dumbass, but I...I think I love you. I love you __, fuck!"

a/n: So....how are we feeling about Jungkook rn? Also, my darling Taehyung is taking one for the team here 😭 🤍 LMK what you think! Lastly, I understand the timeline of events is a bit tricky to follow, so if it helps I can put something in the series masterlist to help. Vote for jjk or kth!

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side note: I tried tagging readers in comments but most of them didn't go through, so i'm sorry about the clutter here...😬

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Lee Know | Cuts and Bruises

Just a little drabble I found in my drafts (and technically my first actual post :0) Friends to Lovers Warnings: Slight suggestiveness at the end

“Minho!” You rushed to your friend’s side. “What-what…happened?!” You couldn’t help the tears that started to form in your eyes, and immediately Minho grasped your shoulders.

“Y/N…why are you crying? It's just a few cuts and bruises.”

You pound your fist against his chest in a weak attempt to scold him. “How could I not? It's cuts and bruises! On you!”

You turn your back to him to hide the large stream of tears falling down your face.

“Y/N, please don’t cry. You don’t have to worry about me. I was just boxing. It just…got a little rough this time. I was sparring with an amateur and he was a little reckless.”

You didn’t answer him, your lip still trembling too much to move in anyway that would form coherent words.

“Y/N…” Minho said softly as he came up behind you, his arms wrapping around you, and his chin landing softly into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

His breath was soft and calming, enough so that you were able to still your bottom lip.

“Are you really that worried for me?” He asked quietly.

“Yes.” You nod. “I don't like seeing you hurt. Don’t you remember how I felt when you fell during your performance a few weeks ago?”

You could feel Minho’s cheek warm up as it was pressed against your neck. “You really do have such a nonchalant way of bringing up my past embarrassments, don’t you.” He said lightly, trying to get the smallest of smiles out of you. He chuckles and sighed, burying his nose into your neck. “You smell good.” He mumbled. “It makes it even harder for me to resist.”

That sent a spark up your spine, and the feel of his warm breath on any inch of your skin was enough to light your body on fire.

“Resist what?”

“You.” He said simply. You felt his soft, yet slightly sweat dampened hair tickle your face. Your heart raced in anticipation.

Did he really just say what you thought he said?

“Minho…?”

He ignored your questioning tone and held out his hand in front of the both of you. “The worst cut is here. I came over because I figured you could help me clean it and patch it up. I highly doubt Chan would be happy with me arriving home in this state.”

You quickly rushed to get your first aid kit and came back to Minho sitting back on your couch. He had taken off the sweatshirt he was wearing, and a black form fitting tank top showcased all the lines of muscle you had imagined would be on your friend’s body.

You worked in silence, but you could feel Minho’s brown eyes on you as you worked.

“I always loved how your tongue sticks out slightly when you're focused.” He comments. “It makes you even cuter than you naturally are.”

You look up and Minho has a sly smirk on his face, and soon enough you are looking at that smirk up close.

“Min…ho?”

He continues to come closer until you're pinned up against the edge of the coffee table. 

“Jisung told me something funny today…”

You felt a fire burn in your stomach. It must have been caused by how fast the butterflies were swarming in there.

“He said that a certain someone…loved me…” All the playfulness left his voice, and a strange sense of longing was becoming of his smile. “Is it true?”

You looked at him but was distracted by a small bruise by his mouth. It hurt to think he’d gotten hit so close to his lips.

Instinctively you reached out to trace the small purple mark tenderly, with such a feather light softness he had no doubts about what Jisung had told him.

Immediately he reached out to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“He was telling the truth.” His voice held no questions. Only answers.

His mouth tore at the seams into a beaming smile, and he rested his forehead against yours. “Say it.”

You look up. “Say what?” Your voice wavered slightly.

His eyes were closed and a peaceful smile was painted on his face. “Tell me you love me. I want to hear you say it.”

“I love you, Lee Minho.”

Although he thought he was prepared to hear you vocalize your feelings, the reality was that he wasn’t in any capacity.

The feeling that surged in his chest was something completely different than what he expected he would ever feel in this life.

The amount of joy and fear and excitement and love that hit him like a ton of bricks was too intense for him to put in words. 

So all he could manage to mutter was, “I love you, Y/N L/N. I’ve just been waiting for you to reciprocate my affections.”’

The smile mixed with surprise, shock, and a twinge of disbelief was humorous and adorable to Minho, and he couldn’t help but place a small kiss below your left eye.

You pouted. “Why not the lips?” You mumbled.

Lee Minho chuckled. “Trust me, Y/N…once this bruise heals, I’ll gladly allow you to replace it for me.”

[xvysarene]

𝕁𝕦𝕤𝕥 𝕒 𝕋𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖

Pairing: Rafayel x Fem!Reader Words: ~3.2k Genre: Suggestive Notice: Profanities (mild) A/N: A fun challenge to write something similar to Zayne's Stress Relief. Please give some love to it too! 💙 [ᝰ.ᐟ MASTERLIST]

“What is cooking?”

Rafayel’s words infiltrated through the growing tumult in your mind, to the extent that you failed to register the stopping of the shower’s sound.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, casting him in just the perfect light. The glow of his skin was amplified by the deep richness of the navy button-front shirt he chose for the day.

His complexion had a rosy hue, giving him a fresh and healthy appearance.

You didn’t even realised he had brought a change of clothes last night. “Just pancakes, do you want some?”

“I’m good, Thomas is picking me up soon,” he said, approaching with a noticeable skip in his steps. “Though, if there are any leftover strawberries, I'd gladly have some.”

After you gestured to the appliance behind you, indicating he could help himself, he eagerly rummaged through the fridge.

A satisfied groan escaped his lips as he savoured the succulent strawberries, sending shivers running down your spine as it reminded you of the voices he made on a different occasion.

One that involved both of you lying horizontally on the bed…or even vertically on the living room last night. The dried champagne stain on your carpet was a reminder of what had happened.

You heard the click of the fridge closing before feeling arms looping around your waist. His fingers spread wide, tracing the curves just below your breasts with a deliberate touch.

“Raf—Rafayel, what are you doing?” you stuttered.

The batter spoon fell with a clang to the kitchen counter, feeling his lips grazed your skin, warm breath against your ear as he leaned in closer.

“I couldn’t resist,” his voice dropped with desire. “You’re irresistible looking like this.”

Perhaps he should have his eyes checked. He looked like a model ready for a photoshoot, while you felt like a rag with your shorts and oversized shirt.

“You’re going to burn my apartment,” you muttered, but couldn’t help leaning back further as you felt him nibbling on your ears slightly.

You always turned to putty in his hands. His touch was too tantalizing, too tempting to resist.

“You can move in to my place.”

Swift fingers turned off the stove and turned your head gently, claiming your lips. He tasted like sweet strawberries with a hint of tartness, a delicious combination.

One hand massaged your breasts alternatively before moving lower, long fingers meeting bare skin as they slipped past your shorts’ waistband.

“Fuck,” you heard him growl, not expecting you to be bare-bottomed and soaked, so ready for him.

The taste of strawberries lingered on your lips even after you parted, a constant reminder of the indulgence you allowed yourself to succumb to.

Rafayel pressed his forehead against the hollow of your neck, taking a deep breath. “Are you free tonight?”

“Yes—No,” you quickly revised, head clouded with the sensation of his lips peppering sloppy, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.

“Anyways, call me whenever you get home,” he continued, unaware of your wavering resolution. You gasped as he shifted, feeling the unmistakable bulge pressing against your backside. “Or I’ll just wait for you here after my work is done for the day.”

With one tight squeeze, he released you and walked over to the sink, washing the apple that you hadn’t even noticed he had set aside from the fridge earlier.

Busying his hands as if he was restraining himself from spreading you onto the counter right then and there.

“I’m changing my door lock.”

Rafayel hmmed and a crunch reached your ears as he took a bite of the apple.

“Rafayel, I’m changing my lock.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.” He took out his phone. “Just text me the new combination.”

Heart pounding and not from desire this time, you faced him. A furrow appeared on his brows as his fingers worked on texting someone, probably Thomas.

You could hear him lightly muttering, “I'm going to be late for the interview,” his tone slightly frustrated.

“No, Raf, you don’t understand. You’re not welcome here anymore.”

That made his bluish-pink eyes snap to yours, confusion evident in their depths. Both of you stared at each other for a while before you saw his fish brain had an “Aha!” moment.

He snapped his fingers after quickly pocketing his phone in his white slacks. “You want to come to my place, instead? Of course, you’re welcome anytime.”

A coy smile played at the corner of the lips. “We should have another go at the bathtub this time, yeah?”

You exhaled slowly, telling yourself to not be surprised at the conclusion he had decided to take.

“Raf I—” you stopped, feeling your confidence level lowering. “I want an end to this.” 

The crunch of the apple stopped mid-bite, the fruit inches away from his mouth. He looked at you as if you had grown two heads.

“I’m one hundred percent sure that wasn’t what you said last night.” 

Recollections of feeling the plush sofa on your knees as he took you from behind remained vividly burned in your mind.

During the fog of pleasure, you did tell him to never stop with whatever he was doing with his tongue, hands, and…

You shook your head, face flushed in embarrassment. The sudden pulsating throb in your core made you cross your legs.

Rafayel smirked at the sight, knowing he had pushed the right button.

“Rafayel, no—”

“Why though? Hasn’t the sex been great?” The smirk was eventually wiped off of his face. “If you don’t like anything, I can always compromise. In fact, you should tell me more about what you like.”

“We agreed that we could end this anytime.”

Friends with benefits—that was what you rashly agreed on. No conditions, no expectations aside from the physical connection that sparked between you.

And yet, you knew that the feelings you have always had for him would threaten to spill over someday. 

“You have a new boyfriend, is that it?” his accusing tone irked you.

“What do you think of me? A slut?” you retorted through gritted teeth. Fury starting to brew inside you.

“Last time I checked, you are the one who can't commit.” The harsh remarks sent a tiny speck of hurt to flash across his face, but it was gone as soon as it came. “You were the one to propose that we could end this anytime, no question asked.”

Truth was, you knew you couldn’t handle the heart break if he had laughed in your face for catching feelings.

His usually bright eyes darkened, an unexpected anger simmering beneath them.

“Fine.”

The spring that was in his steps earlier was gone, replaced by stomping. Hand gripped the door handle, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“But don’t come running back at me later,” he threw over his shoulder before opening the door with more force than necessary.

Thomas’s widened eyes greeted him from the other side, his hand hovering in the air, seconds away from knocking on the door.

The manager would have knocked the pretty boy’s face if not for his fast reflexes.

“I pressed the bell earlier and—”

Rafayel pushed past Thomas, his brown dress shoes tap-tapping down the corridor.

With arms propped on the counter, you tried to support your body, feeling emotionally drained. “Don’t say it.”

Thomas sent you a pitiful look, one that you hated, and sighed. “Okay.”

“Thomas! We’re going to be late!” Rafayel’s voice bellowed from the elevator down the hall. Hopefully, you wouldn’t get any noise complaints from the neighbours.

“I’ll check back on you later,” he said softly, and ever the gentleman, closed the door behind him, leaving you alone in the apartment that suddenly felt too empty.

Similar to the hollow left in the half-bitten apple. 

“Thomas, didn’t Mr. Zhao tell you that we only do shipments biweekly?” you said as a greeting as soon as you stepped out of the pickup truck.

The transporter that you had urgently hired popped up the cargo bed and began loading down the frames and canvases in a variety of sizes.

Hands perched on your hips, you sent Thomas a disapproving look. “You've got to be kinder to Mr. Zhao's back. The old man was having a hard time preparing all this, and I had to sternly tell him that I'm more than capable of helping.”

“I know, I know, please send my apologies to Mr. Zhao. I’ll compensate you double for this.” He waved nonchalantly to the direction of the truck. “Someone has been cranky all week, and he’ll cut my head off if these are not delivered today.”

You patted Thomas’s shoulder in sympathy as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I can’t imagine.”

The two of you decided to help in moving the abundance of supplies Mo Art Studio had requested at such a short notice.

With the amount of tip that made your eyes cross, Thomas asked the transporter to wait outside for a while as he wanted to talk to you. The guy was more than happy to oblige.

The manager guided you inside, the private gallery’s air conditioning providing a refreshing relief from the bright sun.

Taking out the cheque book from inside his blazer, he quickly wrote the amount, ripped the piece of paper, and handed it over. Your eyes crossed for the second time that day at the sight of the numbers.

“Mr. Zhao would never accept this.” Shaking your head, you handed the piece of paper back to him, surprised that he really doubled the amount of the whole order. “Just write down per the price agreed; in fact, Mr. Zhao gave you a discount.”

Milky fingers took the cheque swiftly from your hand and stuffed it into your purse before you could utter any other word.

“How are you holding up?” he questioned, eyes beaming with genuine concern peered from behind warm gray, slightly purplish bangs.

Trying to act nonchalant, you shrugged. You had hoped to avoid returning to Mo Art Studio anytime soon, but it seemed fate had other plans, and it had come back to bite you right in the ass.

“I’m an adult, I can handle myself.”

“I’ve warned you, didn’t I?” he gently said and your eyes found the floor as you shuffled your feet. 

Thomas always made you feel like you were being watched under  the attentive, though critical, mother's gaze.

You had formed camaraderie with the fish boy’s manager, who often contacted or visited your workplace at Mr. Zhao's art supply store to place orders.

“You should never ignore your feelings for a fleeting moment of bliss, as they may overwhelm you in the end.”

You knew that this conversation was coming from miles away, but you did not hope for it to happen in under a week after Rafayel walked out of your place.

Thomas had visited you that day in the evening, and agreed not to mention anything about Rafayel before being let in.

“I get it,” you snapped and immediately felt bad. Ever the watchful mother hen to two chicks, Thomas had indeed warned you of the consequences.

You were the one too adventurous to resist a bite of the forbidden apple.

He sighed and engulfed you in a comforting hug, reminding you of your old teddy bear plushie. The feeling of his expensive blazer was soft against your cheeks.

“This changed nothing between us,” Thomas said as he took a step back. “If you need anything, call me.”

The sounds of footsteps and voices interrupted your response. Despite your shorter height, you could see camera crews following a couple past Thomas's shoulder.

Even through the gap from the dividing curtain between the main exhibition hall and the back door, you couldn’t miss the dusky purple hair appearing in your line of vision.

His face was adorned with a playful smile, while his arm was wrapped around an attractive leggy blonde.

“...and Mr. Rafayel, who is this lovely lady you're holding?” the reporter’s voice rang through the otherwise empty gallery.

Thomas's head snapped, and you heard a crack from his neck, along with some profanities escaping his mouth. It was surprising to hear such language from the typically composed manager.

Your eyes were focused on the blonde, who femininely covered her mouth, laughing at whatever Rafayel was saying.

“Y/N.” Thomas waved his hand in front of your face. “Y/N,” your eyes snapped back at the sound of his firm tone.

“Since when does he parade the girls he sleep with?” The bitter words slipped from your lips before you could stop them.

He would usually keep them between the sheets, not in front of the camera.

“It’s not what you think. She’s an artist that he’s collaborating with.”

“Nevermind, it’s none of my business.” With a huff, you adjusted the strap of your shoulder bag.

“Y/N—”

You made the mistake of glancing in the direction of the couple once more. Chill ran through your body as you saw Rafayel’s eyes fixated on you, a mixture of emotion—anger and something you couldn’t place—passed through his face.

Dodging Thomas’s attempt to grab your hand, you waved at him dismissively. “Come visit the shop sometime.”

Days later, Thomas visited Mr. Zhao’s store, his presence a welcome relief from the palpable distress rolling off you.

After sharing a comforting early dinner, the two of you aimlessly strolled through the park just beyond the bustling streets.

The air was warm, gentle breezes rustling through the trees. Some people gathered for picnics or simply lounged with friends and family in the park.

You sent him a questioning look, noticing his unusual silence. Thomas slowed his pace once you passed the crowded area, leaving behind the sounds of children.

��Rafayel…he’s riddled with cracks, more than you can imagine.” You nearly trip on your own legs at his sudden remarks. “Despite the façade of carefreeness, he’s just a vulnerable guy seeking genuine affection.”

You stopped. “Thomas—”

“Listen to me first.” He motioned for you to keep walking, and you fell into step beside him.

“He’s used to the spotlight, used to people throwing themselves at him. Have you ever wondered why he jumps from one person to another?”

You hesitated, sensing that this could potentially be a trick question. “Because he can’t commit?”

“But if commitment is an issue, why did he stick around with you, when the previous ones were dismissed in a month, at most? Why did he talk about you so much to his aunt and me?”

Rafayel was talking about you to his aunt?

“Aunt Talia is the only family he has left, and I’m his only close friend. He doesn’t let people get too close to him because he had been burned before by their twisted intentions. They’ll discard him as soon as they’ve had their fill, so he pushes them away before he can get too attached. He’s got all tangled in the web of passing happiness they offer.”

All along, you had believed Rafayel’s short-lived “relationships'' were a result of his desire for freedom. Yet, it was rooted from others who had taken advantage of him.

Your heart constricted. “Why are you sharing all this with me?”

“Because I can’t stand seeing the two idiots that I care about hurting.” 

You weren't sure whether to be touched by his concern or offended because he thought you were an idiot.

“I’m not defending him for his actions, but you have to understand why he’s shaped the way he is.”

Thomas looked back as you halted, noting the troubled expression that crossed your face.

Desperately trying to protect your already fragile heart from further damage, you felt compelled to be the one to end the arrangement first, convinced that Rafayel would eventually cast you aside.

“I pushed him away, and he likely sees me as a leech now, just like what others did to him.”

He gently squeezed your shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault; you didn’t know all of this until now. But let's be honest, agreeing to friends with benefits was a stupid idea.” Thomas shook his head in disappointment, just like a mother dismayed by her child's poor decision-making.

“You came and disrupted his equilibrium. Rafayel is the one who needs to man up and learn to voice out his emotions.”

Thomas’s eyes flickered to something—or someone—beyond your shoulder.

“And perhaps, he has finally decided to pursue what he genuinely desires."

You turned slightly to see who had caught his eye.

To your surprise, Rafayel was frantically closing the distance, a comical expression of panic etched on his face. He stopped just before you, knees bent while panting heavily.

“Bloody cat…attacking me…from…the tree…” his words were punctuated by gasps for breath.

You glanced back at Thomas, considering whether he had planned this, but the manager was already halfway down the cobblestone path.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone,” he called out without even turning his back, waving as he walked away.

Rafayel was still trying to catch his breath, white shirt clinging to his body from the warm weather. Tendrils of hair stuck to his forehead, damp with perspiration.

“Are you okay?” 

He straightened up, face either flushed from running or embarrassment, you weren’t sure.

“Why did you never mention that you have feelings for me?”

“Excuse me?” you spluttered, taken aback.

Before you could gather your thoughts, Rafayel crossed his arms. A slight pout forming on his lips. "If I had known you didn’t want to see me anymore just because you like me, I would have skipped that boring interview and spent my day exploring every inch of your body, fulfilling every desire you didn't even know you had."

The gasp echoed loudly through the surrounding trees. Looking around anxiously, you made sure that no one—and heaven forbid, any children—heard his scandalous words.

“Rafayel!” Your hand came in contact with his pectoral. He was quick to grasp it, pulling you towards him. Arm caging you, preventing any chance of escape.

The blush on his face deepened, reminding you of the Wasabi Octopus plushie from the arcade. “I like you too, you fool.”

Rafayel tightened his embrace, enveloping you in his unique scent—a symphony of frankincense and sea spray, of earthly warmth and salty freshness. And you melted further, body fitting perfectly into his cocoon.

“I'd be content even if you only see me as a sex buddy, if it means I get to keep you in my life,” his voice was tinged with vulnerability. 

“That’s not healthy,” you murmured. “You are worth more than that.”

It was heartwarming to see him nuzzling against your hand as you caressed his cheek. 

“I’ve been wanting to tell you, but I was scared that you’d run away if you knew my true feelings.” He kissed the inside of your hand. “Talk to me, or scream—because I’m thick-headed—but don’t leave without any explanation. Please.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Raf.”

Rafayel relaxed at your reassurance. “This is me being a hypocrite; I am the one running back to you.”

Face nestled in your hair as he breathed in deeply, taking in the familiar scent of your coconut and plumeria shampoo that you knew he loved.

It brought back the sensation of warm sand beneath his feet, evoking memories of the quiet lapping of waves against the shore, soothing his soul.

“...and running away from that chubby cat as well,” he muttered to your hair.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling up from deep within your throat.

Trust Rafayel to ruin such a tender moment.

[dilfprayers]

Sad Girl.

older leon kennedy x reader tw; mentions of death / self harm & sex - old man leon being comforting sigh ( recent death island manga page fucked with my brain!!!! ahhh!!! he's a natural comforter!! )

Rain droplets trickle down the window - Your cheek brushed up along it and the coldness from it numbs your once warm skin. Tears are streaming down from your eyes while he sits there, one hand on the wheel as the other brushed your thigh gently. He tried being comforting, seeing the distress on your face. Prior to this, he did have to drive all the way to get you after you were drinking like crazy at a bar. Alone. You had previously got into a heated argument with your shitty boyfriend. No wonder why you wanted to drink your sorrows away. If anything, you probably wanted to rot in that bar anyways. Alcohol poisoning didn't sound too bad since cutting wasn't good enough for you. But luckily, you had someone who cared. Leon.

He was the guy you saw on the side after getting tired of your boyfriend. You'd see him, act normally and have sex at a motel. You'd completely slut yourself out for him. It made your pay better when you opened up about being into that 'daddy' shit. He was astonished and offered to pay more after that. Yeah - all that shit for some cash in your pocket cause your job wasn't doing enough and your boyfriend took your serious situations as some kind of joke. But that was besides the point -- you both developed some kind of relationship and he started to deeply care about you as a person. So of course, he wasn't gonna allow you to tear your life away like that. He had that alcoholic stage before.. So when he caught you at the bar, it put a strain on his heart and he got you out of there in an instant before decided to take you back home. Or at least, you thought you'd be going back home. "Hun, you don't wanna go back to your apartment. Do you?" You kept quiet, acting puzzled for a second. You wanted to play dumb, ask him; "What do you mean? I do want to go home.." Thing is, he knows. He just knows. Always did from the start. Your gaze remained down to his hand that kept rubbing your thigh. Normally you'd be turned on by this, heated from merely a touch on your body like that but this physical contact was what you needed. In a wholesome way of course - Something your boyfriend clearly lacked in doing. He never gave you the comfort or the time of day and if you had to go another day like this, sneaking with Leon at night then coming back home to your shitty boyfriend, you'd probably lose your mind. "Your silence answered my question... I'm taking you home."

"What-? Then why the hell would you ask me that question then if you were gonna take me back to my apartment anyways?" He's quiet then suddenly a throaty chuckle left him as the lights turned green from above, signaling the cars on the road to move again. The car rumbled and he continued to drive, keeping his focus on the road. "No darling, I think you don't get what home is."

"...What?" You're completely buzzed out - all that drinking clearly had you unable to think straight so he explained it for you at some point as the rain pours down from the gloomy sky. "I mean, I'm taking you with me."

With you? You wanted to talk back, protest even. Keep lying that you were fine but you kept your mouth shut, slowly slumping back into the car seat. This was the one time you were gonna allow someone to make a decision for you cause you knew that even with your protests, he'd do what he wanted anyways but that was probably why you loved him so much. He wanted the best for you, even if it was to take care of you.

He moved his hand away from your thigh, putting it on the wheel as he continues on driving. He did share a glance or two with you, putting on a warm smile before focusing on the road again. "Before you ask, cause I know you'll ask. I dealt with that guy. He won't bother you anymore." "Oh. But what about my-" "Your belongings? I'm gathering them tomorrow morning. I got everything covered. Don't worry your little head." Silent, again.. You quietly nodded, gazing back out the window while the rest of that car ride was quiet for the most part - He didn't want to bother you any further -- he just wanted you to relax and rest your head. You deserved that much after all the shit you've been through anyways. But even in your depressed state and him going behind your back to plan this out, you were nothing but grateful. "Thank you, Leon..."

[darkbluekies]

Jerry & Hedwig drabbles: helping their partner with ruined makeup

Female!yanderes x reader

Warnings: Jerry's part is suggestive

Jerry:

Jerry's always happy ruining your makeup when giving you pleasure, getting you to a point where you can't help but cry. Seeing where her abilities can get her makes her feel like she's on pink clouds.

She sits you down on the toilet and chuckles, admiring you. Your eyes look up at her in a thankful, yet desperate, way that makes her heart skip a beat.

"You look good like that", she says, taking your head in her hands to get a better look. "Maybe I should leave you like this?"

You shake your head quickly. Her men will never let you live it down. But maybe that is exactly what she wants. She loves to claim you, loves to show you off to everyone around him so hat they will know that you are hers and hers only. That no one should try to touch you. She chuckles again and brings out your makeup bag. You can tell that she contemplates covering all of the marks she's left on your throat.

"It's a shame to cover up my work", she says thoughtfully. "I will fix your face, but I will not be covering your neck. I have some creative freedom."

She wipes away your smudged mascara and lipstick with a grumpy look on her face. You look up at her with your beautiful eyes and she can't help but become nervous.

"Stop staring at me", she says, trying to sound angry. "You're disrupting me."

"You look concentrated", you say.

"Well, I am trying my very hardest to fix your face."

"Am I ugly?"

Jerry widens her eyes. "W-What? What the fuck? No! Why-? That's not what I meant."

She helps you with your mascara and accidentally pokes your eye. You yelp and pull back.

"Sorry", she says and pulls you back by your shoulder. "Get back here."

She continues with your makeup, getting better and better with each stroke. She seems to like it and you wonder if she finds it theraputic to fix your makeup.

"I used to do this to my little sister, you know", she says and tries to smile half heartedly. "She liked when i did her makeup."

"You don't wear makeup", you point out. "Why don't you wear it if you like to do it?"

"I like to do makeup, not wear it. Every now and then I find myself liking it on my face, but I don't really like the feeling of it."

She suddenly takes a step back and cocks her head to the side.

"Well, I guess that works", she says nonchalantly. "You have never looked better."

Hedwig:

You've been at her summer house on the country side, right by a stream of water. It's the most private house she has, where her family retreats when they want to be hidden away.

You've been swimming in the stream and sunbathing on the dock for the past hour and now you have to go up to the villa and make yourself ready for dinner. You and Hedwig's family are going out to a resturant.

Hedwig insists on you matching and you wearing her clothes. Hedwig had told you not to pack much clothes because she wants to dress you in hers at all times possible. Seeing you in her clothes makes her feel important to you.

Hedwig loves to brush your hair. Doing it for you is her love language. She loves to run her fingers through your hair.

"Oh, my makeup", you say and chuckle as you see yourself in the mirror in the bathroom. "I look like I've been crying my heart out."

"It's okay, I can redo it if you want", Hedwig smiles. "Can I? Please?"

She sits you down on the chair in her bedroom in front of the mirror and starts to wipe off your ruined makeup.

"You're so pretty, sweetheart", she says softly, all in love. "You don't need makeup, but if you want me to do it anyways, I'm happy to do so. It's intimate, I like to be this close to you."

Every action is sweet and tender as if your skin is the most precious thing in the world. Hedwig is careful with the mascara, she's careful with highlighter, with lipstick and with blush.

"Does it feel okay?" she asks with a small smil, caressing your cheek, taking a better look on the beautiful work she has created. "It doesn't feel weird?"

You shake your head. Hedwig's smile widens in relief.

"Do you like the clothes I've given you?" she asks.

You nod. The clothes are soft and thin, flownig around you like a midsummer dream.

"Look in the mirror", she says. "I think I'm done."

You do. She has saved your tear-looking eyes and made you look normal. You thank her and she blushes. Hedwig stands behind you and brushes your hair carefully.

"I love you so much", she says. "I would sacrifice my entire heritage for you."

[hungermakesmonsters]

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Ten

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R  Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour in a public setting, use of toys. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : 5.6k

A/N : I'm sorry these keep ending up so long. Anyway, enjoy some smutty cuteness...

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE | CHAPTER FOUR | CHAPTER FIVE | CHAPTER SIX | CHAPTER SEVEN | CHAPTER EIGHT | CHAPTER NINE

MASTER LIST

Chapter Ten

The second your eyes opened, you regretted it. 

Light streamed in through the windows and your head hurt - though you couldn’t tell if it was because of all the champagne you’d drunk the night before, or because you’d sobbed yourself to sleep. One look in the mirror had you grimacing. Even though you’d tried to remove your make-up before bed, you’d still ended up with dark mascara circles under your eyes.

As much as you wanted to crawl back into bed, you needed to wash your face properly, get something to drink, and see if you had any painkillers left to help with your pounding headache. A quick glance at your watch told you that it was almost noon.

Half-asleep, you pulled open your bedroom door, only to almost jump out of your skin at the sight of Billy, sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, knees pulled to his chest and his head resting on his arms.

“Billy?” 

He looked up and your heart threatened to stop; his face was bruised and his lip was split and, though his injuries already looked like they were healing, you started to panic.

Before he could say a word, you were on your knees in front of him, cradling his face in your hands, looking over his wounds, while he tried not to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered softly, voice thick with exhaustion, “I didn’t want to hurt you. I never should’ve -” 

“Billy,” you spoke just as softly, “you didn’t hurt me.”

“I shouldn’t’ve started this. I never wanted to put you in danger.”

You shook your head. “Where is this coming from? You haven’t put me in danger.”

“I’m dangerous. Just being around me is dangerous.”

“No,” you told him firmly, still holding his face, forcing him to look at you. “I’m safe with you, Billy.”

“No, I -”

“Is that what your friend told you? That you’re dangerous? Because you’re not. You showed me last night that you’re not,” you continued. His eyes closed and he shook his head. Your heart ached at how broken and defeated he looked. “Please don’t push me away. They’re wrong about you. I know they are.”

Without any sort of hesitation, you wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight, pressing your face to his chest, trying to fight back tears.

“I heard you crying,” he said, sounding devastated, as if that one piece of information proved his point. It didn’t.

“Not because of you, Billy.”

“Then why?”

“Because I didn’t want last night to end. I wanted to stay with you, and they ruined it.”

Finally his arms moved, wrapping around you and pulling you closer. You let out a shuddered breath, a tired sigh of relief, glad that he finally seemed to believe you. He moved himself as he pulled you towards him until you were on his lap with your face pressed against his neck, enjoying the feel of his cold skin against you.

“I thought that...” He started but trailed off just as quickly.

He didn’t need to say it; you had a pretty good idea of what Billy thought and why. But it was wrong, and you weren’t going to let him hold onto that thought any longer.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you told him again, prepared to tell him as many times as you needed to in order to make him see sense. “Everything that happened last night happened because I wanted it to.”

Billy nodded but stayed quiet, his arms tightening around you. Minutes ticked by and you were content to stay like that, to hold and be held, to let him know that you were there and that there was nowhere else you’d rather be. 

After a while, he seemed to settle and relax, his hand softly rubbing your back, giving you comfort that you hadn’t realised you desperately needed. But there were things beyond comfort that you also needed; answers to questions you never wanted to ask but now couldn’t avoid.

“Last night,” you started quietly, “you said he fucked up your life... what happened?”

His chest shuddered and rose as he took a breath, but you kept your face against his neck, wanting to give him some sense of space without you looking at him.

“Frank’s the one who turned me,” Billy told you. “He’s the one who made me a vampire.”

The revelation had your blood running cold in your veins; his business partner, his friend, was the one who’d turned Billy into something he hated. You had a thousand different questions all at once but had no idea where to start. Fortunately, Billy didn’t wait for you to figure it out.

“We served together and, one day, we were selected for a special task force,” he sighed, his voice turning almost mechanical, like he was recounting the story on auto-pilot. “Things got fucked up and weird; we were seeing things that shouldn’t have existed, that didn’t seem real. I couldn’t handle it, I didn’t want to stay, so I got a transfer back to Force, but Frankie stayed.”

There was a pause, letting you absorb everything he’d told you, letting you make sense of the timeline. You already knew that he’d been turned a year or so before vampires were revealed to the public - was he saying that the military had known about them longer?

“After I left, they started... experimenting. Frank got turned but he managed to escape, he managed to get back to New York. They sent a team after him. My team. They were going to kill Frank and his family.” He paused again, seeming like he really didn’t want to continue, but he did regardless. “When I realised what was happening, I tried to save him and got shot in the back by one of my own men.”

You gripped him tighter, worry consuming you, even though you knew that Billy was alright.

“I would’ve died if he hadn’t turned me, but - but sometimes I wish I had. Sometimes I wish he’d just let me bleed out so I didn’t have to live like this,” he continued, his voice flat, betraying no emotion. “We had to hide out for a while but once vampires became public knowledge, we threatened to go public with everything we knew and they paid us off - that’s how I was able to start Anvil.”

Taking a deep breath, you pressed yourself closer to him, your mind racing. You didn’t say anything, you just kept hold of him, feeling completely useless for not knowing exactly the right thing to say.

The silence stretched on until it became unbearable.

“Please say something,” he prompted, his voice cracking and threatening to break.

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t want to upset you.”

“Why would you upset me?” He asked.

Finally you forced yourself to look at him again. You tried desperately to keep yourself from frowning as you searched his face for some idea of what he was feeling.

“Because I want to say that I’m glad Frank turned you,” you told him and immediately felt him tense. “I’m glad you’re alive and that you’re like this because, otherwise, I never would’ve gotten to meet you.”

You weren’t sure if the look he gave was one of pain or sorrow, but it broke your heart either way.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, “I know it makes me awful and selfish, but I don’t want to think about a world where we didn’t meet and I didn’t feel this way...”

“You’re not selfish,” he told you, pressing his cold hand to your cheek. “I’m glad we met too.”

Words failed and the distance between you seemed to shrink, though you had no idea if it was you or Billy moving. Your lips met and you both sank into a sweet and tender kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips as he held you tight. The kiss helped settle your nerves and caused you to hope that Billy now understood what you were feeling.

When you finally pulled back, you looked at him, your fingers brushing over his bruised cheek.

“Did he do this?” 

“Yeah.”

“But why?” You asked. Why would his friend hurt him like that?

“Because he knows about my problem and, because he turned me, he’ll blame himself if I hurt you.”

You shook your head, not wanting to go over everything again, so you let it go, instead opting to get a good look at him. Aside from the bruising (that seemed to have healed even more in the time that you’d been talking), his jacket and shirt had both been torn at the shoulder and on the collar, there were blood splatters on the white shirt, and his hair was sticking up in every direction. But, more than anything, he just looked so tired.

“Do you want to lay down? We could -”

“No,” he interrupted sharply, almost causing you to jump. He took a breath and shook his head. “You can’t invite me into your room, okay?”

“But -”

“Please, hummingbird,” he begged. “It’s the only room in the penthouse that I can’t enter. It’s the only place you’ll be safe if anything happens.”

Part of you wanted to argue, to tell him again that you were safe with him, that he hadn’t hurt you and you didn’t think he ever would, but you recognised that this was one of those situations where Billy needed reassurance. He needed to know that you had a safe place, somewhere you could escape to.

“Okay,” you relented. “But you still need rest. You look exhausted.”

“So do you.”

“I need to go wash this mascara off my face and eat some breakfast,” you told him, smiling softly, not wanting him to worry about you any more than he already had.

You started to move, getting off his lap and to your feet before offering him your hand. After helping him to his feet, you found yourself struck by just how deep your feelings had started to run. You should have been ushering him off to bed, but you were desperate for just one more minute with him. And, Billy seemed equally reluctant to leave you.

“I -” he started but quickly second guessed himself.

“What?”

“Well, since the cat’s out of the bag, I -” he hesitated for a beat “- I don’t want to sneak around and hide this anymore. I want to take you out to dinner. Tonight.”

The corners of your lips started to tug upwards and before you knew it, you were grinning at him.

“Mr Russo,” you said, forcing a dramatic tone, “are you asking me out on a date?”

“Yes, little hummingbird, I am.”

“I suppose I could go to dinner with you, if I can find something to wear,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Is that your way of asking me for a new dress? Because I definitely wouldn’t say no to another handjob in the fitting rooms.” He retorted, grinning just as widely as you were, as if you’d finally managed to help lift some of the weight from his shoulders.

Laughing, you pressed your face to his chest again, telling yourself just one more minute again and again. 

“You could take me out for dinner every night for the rest of the year and I’d probably still not get through half of the outfits in my wardrobe. I’m sure there’s something suitable in there,” you conceded. 

“Be ready by sunset. I’ll book us a table somewhere nice,” he told you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before pulling away from you.

“Don’t you have work tonight?”

“After last night, I don’t think Frank is going to want me around the office for a while,” he shrugged, heading for the door leading back out to the penthouse before you could think to question him further. “Get some rest and I’ll see you at sunset.”

And then he was gone, leaving you alone with the swarm of butterflies that had taken flight in your stomach. You couldn’t stop smiling, couldn’t stop thinking about him and how things were going to change between you now that you weren’t hiding.

After eating, you took the world's longest and hottest shower, finally managing to get the last traces of mascara from your face. Then it was straight to the wardrobe to find something suitable to wear for dinner.

When you finally saw him again, he looked much better; rested, with only the faintest traces of bruising left beneath his eye. He stopped in his tracks, taking in the sight of you and the dark blue corset style dress you’d picked, while you admired the dark grey suit he’d opted to wear. Your cheeks warmed as his gaze lingered on your legs even as you stepped towards him to hand him his glass of blood.

“I see you found something to wear,” he remarked, fingers brushing yours as he took the glass. 

A moment later he started making his way towards the sofa, explaining that you had some time before you had to leave for the restaurant. You followed after, finally letting your gaze drift around the penthouse, noticing what an amazing job the cleaners had done. If you hadn’t been there, you never would have guessed that there had been almost two hundred people there the night before. 

It wasn’t until you sat that you noticed something on the coffee table; the necklace he had given you. He must have found it after everyone had left the party. Without thinking you reached for it, inspecting it, hoping it hadn’t been damaged.

“I’m sorry I didn’t explain what that meant,” Billy sighed. “It was shitty of me to put it on your neck without telling you. It wasn’t fair of me to claim you without asking first...”

“No, it wasn’t,” you told him with a sigh of your own. “You should’ve told me. I-I still would’ve worn it.”

“Really?” He asked, and you nodded. He hesitated for a beat before; “then would you wear it tonight?”

Your breath caught and, for a split-second it looked as if he was about to take the question back. Knowing what you knew about the necklace, about its meaning, the answer should have been obvious; you weren’t his and you didn’t want to belong to anyone.

Only, you weren’t sure that was entirely true.

“I think that depends on you,” you finally answered.

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want me to belong to you?” The question left him looking more than a little confused. “I meant what I said last night; I like you, Billy. I don’t know what that means in the long run, but I’d like for it to mean something now.”

“And you’d be happy with that?” He asked after a moment of hesitation. “You’d be happy being mine?”

“Would you be happy being mine?”

You didn’t expect the reaction to be so visceral, for Billy to tense and almost curl in on himself. You’d hit a nerve but you didn’t know how. His knuckles turned white around the glass and his eyes fixed on the windows.

Suddenly you felt sick. You felt stupid. There you were offering yourself up to someone who had no intention of ever doing the same. He’d told you from the start that it would be like this, that he would never give you more than he already had. And you’d just ruined it because you were selfish, because you were greedy, because you wanted more than anything to possess him and be able to say that he was yours.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, getting to your feet and heading for the kitchen, getting a glass of water as an excuse to put some space between you.

Your heart anxiously pounded in your chest and, even when you had a drink, you didn’t turn back. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, to see the damage you’d done by wanting too much.

You took deep breath after deep breath, trying to ignore the way your cheeks were burning and your stomach was knotting. 

(Of course he didn’t want to be yours. Who would?)

“No one’s ever wanted me to be theirs before.” His voice cut through the silence and, when you finally turned, you realised he was standing a couple of feet behind you. “My own mother gave me up hours after I was born. Foster families always sent me back to the group home. The only person who’s ever stuck around is Frank...”

Oh. The realisation was painful.

“So, it’s not that I don’t want to be yours,” he continued, dropping his gaze, “it’s just...”

“I’ll leave you,” you finished the thought for him. A moment later, you were shaking your head. “You’re right, it was a stupid thing to say. I’m sorry.”

When your gaze dropped, you realised that the necklace was clutched in his hand. After taking a slow breath, you closed the distance between you and reached it and smiled.

“Will you put it on for me?” You asked.

For a moment, all he could do was stare at you, confused by the request. You were a little confused yourself, not because you were second guessing it, but because the urge to belong to him, to have him claim you, had come on so quickly.

“Are you sure?”

“I want to feel like I belong somewhere, even if it’s only temporary,” you tried to explain.

Before Billy could say another word, you turned, lifting your hair out of the way so he could put the necklace around your neck. The feel of cold metal against your skin and the weight of the choker around your neck had you letting out a gentle sigh; he might not have been able to want you in the same way, but you could at least be happy that he wanted you.

Turning, you leaned to press a gentle kiss to his cheek before excusing yourself, telling him you needed to grab something from your room before you left.

It took about thirty minutes to get to the restaurant  and, when you arrived, you were rendered speechless by the opulence. Billy was clearly well known and the staff couldn’t do enough for him, taking your coats before leading you to a secluded table by the window with views of the Hudson. You were too distracted by the view to pay much attention to the conversation going on between Billy and the maître d' - it was something about a rare wine they’d been saving.

Once you were seated, you realised that there were no menus. Billy explained that they used a set menu and, honestly, you felt a little relieved that you wouldn’t have to try and choose for yourself when there was so much to distract you.

Within minutes you each had a drink; a deep, sweet red wine that you were told would pair excellently with the night's menu. Then came your entree. 

You frowned, comparing yours to Billy’s, wondering why they looked different.

“It’s blood,” Billy explained, noticing your confusion. “They cater to vampires and humans here.”

“Oh,” you remarked, not sure why the thought left you feeling uncomfortable.

“Does it bother you?” He asked. “Me having someone else’s blood in front of you?”

Yes, you wanted to say, but you knew you didn’t have the right. He wasn’t yours.

“No. I guess I always knew that you had other blood. It’s just -” you let out a huff, frustrated that you couldn’t find the words to explain it.

All the things he could taste when he drank your blood, now he was sitting across from you tasting those things in someone else. It felt almost like a betrayal, even though you knew that wasn’t what it was.

“It doesn’t compare to your blood. It doesn’t even come close,” Billy told you, and that settled you a little.

Taking a breath, your attention turned to your own food, knowing you couldn’t begrudge a vampire his blood. You wanted him to eat and enjoy the evening.

About twenty minutes in, you excused yourself to go to the bathroom and were annoyed to find a familiar face waiting for you as you washed your hands.

“Having a nice evening?” Madani asked with none of her usual concern.

“Very nice, thank you,” you answered pointedly. “What do you want?”

“I want you to realise how much danger you’re in.”

“I’m not in danger. Billy hasn’t hurt anyone. If you want to keep me safe, you should go find Krista, she’s the only one who’s tried to bite me,” you snapped, patience quickly running out.

“You’ve seen Krista Dumont?” Madani asked, surprised. You nodded. “When?”

“Last night. She crashed Billy’s party and tried to bite me.”

“She’s a vampire?”

“Yes, and before you ask, no it wasn’t Billy.” You finished drying your hands and stepped past her towards the door. “Please just leave me alone.”

Returning to the table, you decided not to mention anything to Billy, hoping it was the last you’d see of Madani. Now that she knew Krista was alive, surely she’d leave Billy alone.

You continued to eat and made small talk, keeping the conversation light, both avoiding the more serious topics you’d already covered at the penthouse. And, when the main course was put out in front of you, you decided to do something to make things a little more entertaining for the both of you.

“Do you have your phone?” You asked him, gaze shyly dropping to the table.

“Of course, why?”

“I figured we could have some fun again.”

He looked at you blankly for a few seconds, not understanding what you were trying to suggest. You bit your lip as your cheeks warmed and, finally, the penny dropped.

“You mean...?” he asked, lips pulling into a grin.

“Last night we couldn’t see each other, so I thought...” you tried to explain.

Billy didn’t have to say anything, you knew he could hear your racing heart. You were close enough that you could see his eyes get darker as his pupils dilated, and you heard the hitch in his breath. You held his gaze, barely breathing as he pulled his phone from his jacket and placed it on the table, watching as he unlocked it and opened the app that controlled the toy.

But, then, he hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, running your teeth over your lower lip again, struggling to find the words.

“Last night was... fun. I liked knowing you were thinking about me as much as I was thinking about you. When I know you’re thinking about me I...” your words caught on the lump in your throat.

“You can tell me,” he prompted quietly.

“You make me feel brave. When I’m with you, when you look at me like that, I feel like I could do anything.” you admitted. 

There was so much more you wanted to say, so many things you wanted to tell him but, after your conversation back at the penthouse, it didn’t seem fair. He wasn’t yours, he never would be. And you would only temporarily be his.

You sat a little straighter when the vibrations started, thighs clenching together beneath the table. Sucking your lower lip, you forced yourself to look him in the eye and let him see what he was doing to you.

“Fuck,” he muttered, “you were right; it’s a lot more fun when I can see your face.”

His free hand reached across the table to hold yours while the other swiped at his phone, changing the intensity of the vibrations. Your fingers tensed against his and Billy smiled.

“How is everything this evening?” The waiter asked, stopping by to refill your glasses, oblivious to what was going on.

“It’s amazing,” you answered, barely tearing your eyes from Billy, who struggled to hold back a laugh.

The waiter said something about dessert and left you to finish your main course.

Billy continued making small talk as you ate, occasionally and very brazenly reaching for his phone mid-conversation to start or stop the toy, spending the rest of the night toying with you and trying to drive you crazy. A couple of times you came close to climax, but he knew you well enough to know just how to deny you. 

By the time you had to walk back to the car, your legs were trembling and you had to loop your arm through Billy’s for support.

“Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“No, thank you, hummingbird.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek as you walked across the parking lot. “After last night, I didn’t think -”

“Let’s not talk about last night,” you decided. “Tonight has been perfect and I don’t want anything to ruin it.”

He stopped to open the passenger side door for you but, before you could get in, Billy kissed you. Time seemed to stop and you were more than happy to let it, not even stopping to let yourself think about how this was the first time he’d kissed out in the open where anyone might see. The tiniest of moans slipped from you and you immediately felt Billy’s lips pull into a smile against yours.

“What?” You asked, letting out a nervous laugh.

“I don’t know, you’re just so -” Billy gave a laugh of his own, “- cute.”

“You think I’m cute?” Your cheeks started to warm, not sure if it was meant as a compliment or not.

“Yeah,” he answered, cupping your cheek and running his thumb across your lips. “You’re cute and innocent and sweet. And I love that about you.”

Before you could respond he was kissing you softly and opening the car door for you. And, for a moment, you were willing to forget about anything but his lips on yours.

“Come on, it’s getting late,” he finally ushered you into the car and, less than a minute later, you were on your way back home.

For most of the drive home, you were quiet, eyes fixed on the world beyond the car window, taking in the sights of the city late at night. It seemed to you like New York really was the city that never slept. From time to time, you glanced at Billy, smiling when his gaze caught yours.

There was a feeling of dread in your chest when he finally pulled into his space in the underground parking lot and killed the engine. When he moved to get out of the car, you found yourself reaching for him. 

Billy looked at you, puzzled.

“I don’t want tonight to be over yet,” you told him.

He nodded as if he felt exactly the same way before leaning in to kiss you softly. His hand cupped your cheek but, soon enough, it was drifting down to your neck and, then, as the kiss continued, it started to sink lower. It came to rest over your racing heart, his fingers tenderly squeezing your breast through your dress.

You shifted closer, fingers tangling in his hair, turning the kiss a little more desperate. Your other hand slipped down the front of his shirt to his belt and clumsily started to undo it. As you fumbled, Billy helped, pulling open his belt before helping you with the button and zipper of his pants.

A moan slipped from his lips the second you reached in to pull his cock out, the kiss momentarily faltering when you started to stroke him. You moaned in return when you felt him grow hard in your grasp. You pulled back from the kiss to look at him, taking in the look of lust on his face before your gaze dropped to your hand as it wrung around his shaft. 

The glistening tip had you licking your lips, pulling your legs up onto your seat so you could lean over the centre console. Billy started to say something but quickly fell silent as your lips wrapped around the swollen tip of his cock, your tongue lapping up the pre-cum that had accumulated there in a way that betrayed that this was something you’d done before.

Billy swore, groaning your name as you slowly started to take him into your mouth, continuing to stroke him as you did. It wasn’t long before you felt his fingers tangling in your hair. Your lips sank lower and lower, taking more of him. Your movements slow, deliberate. In a way, you were showing off - this was something you knew how to do well.

“Fuck, little hummingbird,” he groaned when you lips reached far enough to meet your hand at the base of his cock.

You would have smiled if your mouth hadn’t been full. When you pulled back a little, you managed to look up at him through your eyelashes, the tip of his cock still in your mouth, just in time to see Billy reaching for his phone.

Fuck. Your whole body tensed as the toy started to vibrate and, for a second, you froze.

“Don’t stop,” it sounded like a breathless command and you had every intention of following it, quickly returning to what you’d been doing.

Billy didn’t mess around, didn’t waste time, he cranked the vibrations up to the highest setting and turned things into a race against time.

His moans got louder the more of him you took and you could feel him throbbing. You drew your cheeks in and sucked, letting you little moans of your own. Every time you sank down, you felt his hand gently pressing against the back of your head urging you to take even more. Your eyes started to water a little when he hit the back of your throat but you refused to stop. You pulled back and took a breath before sinking down the length of him again, relaxing yourself as he slid into your throat.

“That’s it,” he gasped, “your mouth feels so fucking good...”

Your cheeks felt like they were burning with the things that Billy was saying and the way he was moaning as you dragged your lips up and down his shaft, but there was something empowering about it too. You liked knowing that you could make him tremble. Your free hand moved to your neck, fingers brushing against the necklace, wanting nothing more than to belong to him in that moment, to be nothing but his.

You started to moan even louder, too overwhelmed to even think about holding back, trembling and tensing as you started to come.

“Fuck... I’m gonna come,” he warned. Pulling his hand from your hair so you could pull back if you wanted.

But you didn’t want to pull back, instead you doubled down, tracing the throbbing vein on the underside of his shaft with your tongue.

Billy swore and gave you one last grunt of warning before he started to pulse in your mouth and you felt him spill onto your tongue. You closed your eyes tight and swallowed everything, revelling in his desperate groans.

Once you were done, you pulled away slowly, letting him fall from your lips. Your cheeks burned as you turned away to wipe any traces of cum from around your mouth, not looking back again until his hand found yours.

“You okay? He asked softly. All you could do was nod. His hand cupped your cheek and you found that you could barely meet his gaze. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. You wanted to do that, right?”

“Yeah, I -” you started to answer but quickly trailing off, hating that you didn’t have the words to describe what you wanted.

Your whole face felt hot, trapped between how you felt and how you thought you were supposed to feel. Despite all the time you’d spent with him, the things you’d done since leaving home, the shame was hard to shake.

“It’s silly,” you shrugged. “I’ve never enjoyed doing that before. I was always told women weren’t supposed to enjoy it, but with you...”

The press of his hand on your cheek became a little firmer, ensuring that your eyes stayed on him.

“That’s bullshit. You’re allowed to enjoy it - you’re allowed to enjoy everything we do together. We’re equals in this. If there’s something you don’t like then you don’t have to do it,” he told you.

Before you could answer, he was leaning towards you, making a point of kissing you deeply - something no other guy had ever done after finishing in your mouth - and leaving you with no doubts.

You didn’t speak again until he pulled back and you caught him looking at you with an expression that fell somewhere between questioning and sympathetic. “What?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I just think I’m starting to understand you a little better.” You didn’t respond, you just gave him a questioning look until he continued. “No one had gone down on you before, but you’ve obviously given a blowjob before... that says a lot about the guys you’ve been with.”

Again, you didn’t respond - you didn’t know what you were supposed to say to something like that.

“Now, come on, it really is getting late,” he said a moment later.

You both got out of the car and it wasn’t long before Billy’s hand found yours, keeping hold of you until you arrived back in the penthouse, and only letting go because his phone was ringing.

He gave you a look before letting out a sigh, and you took that as your cue to head to bed. Pressing your lips to his cheek, you held him tight for a few seconds, before starting towards your rooms, closing the door just as Billy angrily answered his phone.

“What, Frank?”

End Note : Again, I got carried away with the cuteness and this ended up really long 😅 The next chapter is also going to be pretty long too and, as a heads up next chapter is going to be particularly smutty, but it's also going to contain some potentially triggering stuff, so please make sure you read the warning on next weeks chapter!!

As always, thanks so much for reading/liking/commenting/reblogging I really love how much you all seem to be genuinely enjoying this fic! Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt.

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

@sweetserendipity65 @damagelove @strangerfromketterdam @a-starrynightwith-u @readingabouthim

@countryday @weepingwitchofthewest @broadwaybabe18 @bunnygirlwriter876 @oliviaewl

@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky

@goldenbeskar @mydarlingnana @strwbrrynd @cheshirecat484 @jvanilly

@ashy-kit

[sebsxphia]

the navy gala.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ description: what happens when you tease sweet and innocent bobby all night?

￫ word count: 300.

￫ c/w: p in v, hair pulling, daddy kink, bob uses derogatory language towards the reader.

￫ a/n: this is for my beloved teddy’s (@thesluttyarchivist) ‘300: Rise of Teddy’ celly here! another huge congratulations to you again my beloved! you continue to provide me with so much angst that it makes my heart shatter into a million pieces and also continue to truly encourage some of the most depraved thots i’ve ever had. thank you so much for asking me to take part, i’m truly honored! i love you to the moon and back darlin’! <33 my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Bob’s hand was a fistful in your hair. He tugged back on it harshly with a grunt to crane your neck back. Your eyes met your own in the tall standing mirror situated in your bedroom. You let out a small whimper at the sight you were met with.

Bob towering behind you with one hand still nestled tightly in your hair, his other hand resting on your hip. You were completely naked while Bob still adorned his Navy White trousers and his crisp white shirt with the first three buttons un-done.

Your mascara had already streamed down your face and stained your rosy, hot cheeks. Bob’s eyebrows where knitted tightly together and he let out a silent snarl when you locked eyes with him after gushing at your own embarrassment of your current appearance.

His hand stayed in your hair but his other rocked your hips painfully slow back onto his cock. His head ran torturously over the sweet spot inside of you and it made you lips part in a wanton moan and your eyes flutter shut. A warning pull was issued on your hair and your eyes flew back open to meet his again.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

It was an order you were keen to obey.

At his mercy and now with your own admission to following his orders, Bob picked up his pace. All that could be heard through your home was the crude sound of skin on skin slapping and both your moans mixed together.

“Never tease me like that again. You hear me? No one knows I’m fucking Bagman’s sibling and you had to parade around like that. I had good mind to fuck you in front of them, but you’d loved that anyway. Wouldn’t you, slut?”

“Yes, Daddy.” You whined out.

taglist:

@tallrock35

@luckyladycreator2

[bellaturner]

Could your write a fic where Alex and the reader have been best friends for years and she’s in love with him but she’s to afraid to tell him because he’s constantly getting new girlfriends and she feels like he doesn’t even look at her the same way anymore every time she tries to tell him he somehow is busy or something

Your writing is so good and I’m a whore for angst love you

A Certain Romance

Heeey, Anon! I truly loved working on this prompt! (I accidentally lost all track of time, spent 2 hours writing it, and got so late for class I gave up on going)

Anyways, I really hope you enjoy it 💕

Contains smut and angst

Summary: YN decides to confess her feeling for Al after getting jealous of his (many) girlfriends, risking their friendship.

Warnings: alcohol, dom Alex, praising, orgasm denial (not really), shouting, name calling, oral sex, dude it's just pure angst and smut...

2,7k words (it got bigger then what i intended, sorry)

Masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

As Alex's words reverberated through the room, your heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst from your chest. His accusations hit you like a ton of bricks, each one piercing your skin like a needle. You had harbored feelings for him for so long, but you had been too afraid to confess them and risk losing the friendship that had been built over the years. And now, as he screamed at you, you could feel the walls closing in.

His anger was palpable, radiating from him like heat from a furnace. You tried to take a step back, to distance yourself from the painful words, but his presence was overwhelming, suffocating. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you struggled to find the words to defend yourself, to explain how you truly felt.

"You've been friendzoning me for years, YN!" Alex's voice boomed through the room, his hands raking through his hair in frustration. "I can't fucking believe you!" The tension in the air was thick, almost suffocating, and you felt the weight of it bearing down on your shoulders.

You felt the bile rise in your throat as you took a deep breath to steady yourself. "Oh shut up, Alex," you spat, your voice trembling with emotion. "How could I be friendzoning you when I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember, you dumb ass!"

But his response was like a slap in the face, a cruel twist of the knife. "Oh wow, what a great joke" the sarcasm in his voice dripped like venom, and you turned away, hoping to hide the tears that streamed down your face. You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing how much his words had affected you, but the sobs that wracked your body betrayed you.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD, YN, ARE YOU CRYING?" Alex's voice rose to a deafening pitch, the anger and frustration almost palpable. You tried to take deep breaths to calm yourself, but the tears continued to stream down your face, blurring your vision.

"You're such a clown!" he continued, his voice dripping with contempt. "You decide to unload this shit on me now? Just when I got a new girlfriend and am leaving for a stupid tour tomorrow?" His words cut you, and you felt your friendship hanging by a thread.

But you couldn't keep the anger inside any longer. "Well, I'm fucking sorry that you're such a man-whore, showing up with a new girlfriend every couple of weeks!" The words felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders, but the relief was short-lived. You knew that there was no going back from this.

"You've been a fucking mess since Alexa!" you added, your voice trembling with emotion. The words hit both of you deeper than you expected, and the tension in the room only continued to thicken. You could feel the weight of your unspoken feelings hanging over you like a dark cloud, and you wondered if there was any way to salvage what was left of your friendship.

But Alex was not having it. "You have no fucking right to say anything about her! Nor about my love life, YN," he growled, his voice dripping with anger and menace. He stepped closer, and your heart raced with fear.

"Do. You. Understand. YN?" he hissed, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you feel exposed and vulnerable.

You tried to apologize, to explain that you didn't mean what you said, but he cut you off. "Yeah, yeah. Save it for someone else. I know you hate Alexa and what she did to me." There was something in his eyes, a flicker. "What interests me, though, is your hate for the others"

As Alex loomed over you, his body language radiated aggression, and his words weighed heavily on you. You struggled to gather your thoughts as he inched closer, emitting a suffocating heat.

Despite your lack of reaction, Alex persisted in attacking your dislike of the others. His intense gaze weakened your knees, and you fought to maintain composure.

"I don't hate anyone, Al," you stuttered, attempting to calm him down. "I simply don't believe they're good for you."

In response, Alex sneered and scoffed, mocking your concern. "And you think you know what's best for me? Spare me the lies, YN. You don't know me."

His words cut deep, inciting a surge of hurt and anger within you. However, before you could retaliate, Alex stormed away, consumed by fury.

"What the hell do you mean? I've know you since we were kids, Alex!" you raised your voice, your anger grewing stronger by his unthought words. "And where the fuck are you going? We are not done here!" you followed him, just to end up on his private study, where he was pouring himself a glass of whisky. Not a shot, a whole glass.

"Yes we are, YN" he sounded angry and defeated.

"Like fuck we are, Turner. Talk to me, you can't just flip out like that and leave me here wondering if you'll ever talk to me again. I value our friendship too much" you vomited all at once.

There he was again, the angry, scary Alex "Why cant you just shut up!?" he shouted from the window. "You started this situation, you put me in this position, and now you want me to solve it?" he fired at you.

He was right, you had, indeed, ruined your friendship. As you sat down behind his desk, you accepted your defeat. But he wasn't going to let you go that easily. He downed the whisky glass all the once.

"Unbelievable. I can't believe you kept this from me for so long," he muttered, his voice rough and hoarse as he poured himself another shot of whiskey, his hands shaking with anger and frustration.

You could feel the tension in the air, and your heart raced with anticipation and fear. Alex was unpredictable when he was angry, and you didn't want him to hurt your feelings anymore than he already had.

"I'm sorry, Alex," you said softly, hoping to diffuse the situation. "I didn't know how to tell you. I was afraid of losing our friendship."

"You think telling me after all these years won't ruin our friendship?" he snapped, his eyes burning with rage. "You had your chance, YN. You had your chance and you blew it."

"I know I messed up," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "But we can still salvage our friendship. We just need to talk it out."

"Talk it out?" he repeated, his voice rising with every word. "You think we can just talk it out after this? After you kept this from me for so long? You're delusional, YN."

As he spoke, you could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes again. You never meant to hurt him, but it seemed like everything you did just made things worse.

"You're right, Alex," you said, your voice barely above a whisper. "I messed up. I should have told you earlier. I just hope you can forgive me."

He didn't respond, just poured himself a third shot and downed it in one gulp. The silence was deafening, and you could feel the weight of his anger and disappointment bearing down on you.

Just when you thought he was going to explode again, he surprised you by grabbing your waist and pulling you towards him, making you get up. Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, his kiss rough and demanding.

As you pushed him away, the heat of the moment dissipated and confusion took over. Your mind raced as you struggled to make sense of what just happened. "What the hell, Alex? You can't just kiss me like that after everything you just said!" you exclaimed, your voice shaking.

"Why not?" he shot back, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and desire. "You wanted this too, YN. Admit it."

Your frustration grew as you struggled to find the right words to respond. "That's not the point!" you finally managed to say, your mind still clouded with confusion. "You can't just switch between being angry and then trying to kiss me. It's not fair."

But before you could say anything more, he whispered, "Watch me," and pulled you in for another kiss. You knew you shouldn't, but his lips on yours were irresistible. You felt your hands instinctively find their way to the back of his head, pulling on his hair as you deepened the kiss, making him pull away.

"If you think you have any type of upper hand in this situation, you are deeply mistaken, love," he said, holding your wrists above your head as he stared deeply into your eyes. And then, he went in for another kiss, more demanding and passionate than before, as if he wanted to consume every inch of you.

His lips were insistent and demanding, and you couldn't help but melt into his embrace. The anger and frustration you felt just moments ago were replaced by a burning desire that seemed to consume your every thought.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he held you up against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body. You moaned into his mouth, unable to resist his touch.

"You're mine now," he said, his voice low and possessive. "And you're going to do exactly what I say." You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words, both scared and excited at the same time. You nodded, but it wasn't enough for him.

"Use your fucking words, YN. You were full of them just now" he said, grabbing your cheeks and forcing you to look at him.

You could feel his intense gaze on you, his eyes locking onto yours as he waited for your response. "Yes, Al," you breathed out, your voice shaky with desire. "I'm yours. Tell me what to do."

A smirk played at the corners of his mouth, pleased with your submission. "Good girl," he murmured, his fingers trailing down your neck and over your collarbone. "First, I want you to strip for me. Slowly. I want to see every inch of your body."

Your heart raced at his command, but you didn't hesitate. You reached for the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head and tossing it aside. Alex's eyes widened with appreciation at the sight of your bare chest, and you could feel his gaze burning into you. You continued to undress, shedding your pants and bra, leaving yourself only in panties.

"Turn around," he ordered, and you obeyed, presenting your back to him. He trailed his fingers down your spine, causing you to shiver with anticipation. "Now, on your knees."

You complied, sinking to the ground as he stood over you. "Good. Now, show me how much you want me." His words echoed in your mind as you knelt before him, feeling completely exposed and vulnerable.

You knew what he wanted, and a part of you was hesitant, but the desire in your body overruled any sense of hesitation. With shaky hands, you reached up to unbuckle his belt, slowly pulling it off and dropping it to the floor.

You could see the bulge in his pants growing larger, and you knew that you were the reason for it. You reached for his zipper, sliding it down and freeing him from his underwear. His arousal was undeniable, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of power knowing that you were the one causing it.

With a flick of his wrist, Alex removed his shirt, revealing his toned chest and arms. He placed a hand on the back of your head, guiding you closer to him.

"Go ahead, YN," his voice low and seductive. "You wanted this, now you got it, so behave like the good little slut that you are. Don't be a brat" he said as he held your hair in a ponytail, forcing your head against his center.

You didn't hesitate, wrapping your lips around him and taking him in as deep as you could. The taste of his saltiness filled your senses, and you didn't flinch when he tightened his grip on your head. The sensation of him inside you was all-consuming, and you moaned with pleasure, sending vibrations through his body.

"Good girl," he praised, his fingers entwining in your hair. "That's it, baby, keep going."

As his member throbbed in your mouth, sending shivers down your spine, he abruptly pulled your head back, eliciting a satisfying "pop" that echoed through the room. With a devilish grin, he looked down at you and uttered, "I want it all, sweetheart. As much as I crave the idea of coating your lips and watching you gulp it down, I also want to fuck you like it's my last fucking day on earth."

The raw intensity of his words sent a surge of desire coursing through your body, making you ache for more. Without hesitation, you stood up. His hand trailed down your back, over your ass, and then swiftly removed your panties.

"Bend over the desk and spread your legs," he demanded, and you quickly obeyed, positioning yourself as he instructed. He ran his hands over your folds, feeling the wetness that had already started to pool there. "God, you're already so wet, baby," he murmured before plunging two fingers inside you. You moaned loudly as your walls tightened around him, overwhelmed by the intense pleasure.

His hot breath caressed your neck as his fingers worked you, sending shivers down your spine. "You're such a whore, aren't you? Getting turned on by me using you like this," he growled, his fingers curling inside you, pushing you closer to the edge.

As he kept working his fingers inside you, you felt the heat building up, and you knew you were on the brink of orgasm. Your moans became louder and more frequent, his name escaping your lips.

"Don't you dare come yet, YN," he growled into your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

"Please, Alex," you pleaded, unable to resist the overwhelming need for him. "I need you inside me."

"Be a doll and beg for it, then" he commanded, his fingers moving with a mesmerizing rhythm, driving you closer to the edge.

"Please, Alex," you begged, feeling your need for him growing more urgent with each passing moment. "I need you inside me. I need to feel you filling me up."

He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he said, withdrawing his fingers and positioning himself at your entrance. With a sharp slap on your ass, he quickly filled you up in one swift motion.

You gasped at the suddenness of it, feeling him stretch you to your limits. He gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. You moaned with pleasure as he pounded into you, hitting all the right spots.

"You feel so good, baby," he groaned, his pace quickening. "I can't fucking believe we haven't done this before"

You were lost in the sensations, the pleasure radiating through every nerve in your body. You pushed back against him, meeting his every thrust with eagerness and need.

He leaned over you, his hand reaching around to rub your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

"Come for me, baby," he growled in your ear. "Come all over me cock." You felt yourself hurtling towards the edge, the pleasure building and building until it finally crashed over you in waves. You cried out his name as you came, your body convulsing around him.

He thrust a few more times before releasing himself inside you with a groan, and collapsing onto your back. Leaving both of you panting and covered in sweat.

As you caught your breath, he pulled out of you and helped you stand up, his hands still roaming over your body.

"You're so fucking amazing," he whispered, pressing kisses to your neck. You leaned back into him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over you.

This was what you craved, the feeling of being completely dominated by him. And in that moment, you knew that you were his, completely and utterly.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow, he turned you around to face him, cupping your face with his hands.

"I meant what I said earlier, YN," he said, his voice serious. "I want you to be mine. I want to take care of you and make you feel good every day."

You looked up at him, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I want that too, Alex," you said, smiling up at him.

He leaned in and kissed you deeply, his hands tangling in your hair. As he pulled away, he looked at you with a soft expression.

"Good," he said. "Because I'm not letting you go now."

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Let me know how big you guys like these things to be, please.

Hope you liked this one hehehe 💕

[kkongdakz]

“ I SEA YOU. ” ft. kim gyuvin

gyuvin x gn!reader, genre : fluff & comfort, warnings : mention of anxiety and overwhelming feelings, wc : 2,3k>

author's note : this is a really, very, truly personal fic, so i'm sorry if you don't recognize or identify with y/n.. but still, i hope you'll like it anyway 😙👍🏻 also, could this be my official comeback? ..who knows..

ever since you were little, you've always considered the sea your comfort zone, your escape. the sound of the waves and the feel of salt water on your skin had a way of dissipating all your worries, help you avoid drowning under pressure and stress. you've long believed that nothing else in the world could give you a similar sensation — not even the hottest summer sun, not even the most beautiful spring blossom tree, not even the tastiest winter hot chocolate, not even the reddest leaf on an autumn tree. nothing could compare to the comfort of the sea in your heart.

that's why you've continued to visit this beach, which means so much to you, every week. this little beach, almost always deserted, where the clear horizon offers you all the splendour of the sky living side by side with the ocean. the palette of blue inked in your memory is enough to soothe you on rainy evenings, but you need the sound of the ocean coming out of a giant shell to soothe your mind. and even if you have to travel miles from your student apartment to get to what makes you so happy, you'll do it without hesitation. but no longer alone.

on the long river of your quiet life, a little boat named kim gyuvin decided to follow a stream to reach the blue ocean of your heart. it was no mean feat — even if you have to admit that the sincerity of his smile made you sink delicately to the bottom of the well of love. he crossed your path by chance, and kept crossing it. again and again. until you accept him on your raft. he hadn't been that insistent, but what really wins you over is feeling that gentle warmth in your heart every time he looks at you with all the goodness in the world in the corner of his eyes, accompanied by the most beautiful smile on the planet. the same warmth you get from watching a sunset reflected on the ocean's blue expanse.

« shall we go? » you suddenly heard, in a voice as gentle as a summer breeze, bringing you out of your deepest thoughts. turning your head to the right, your absent gaze fell on gyuvin's peaceful face, you smiled tenderly, gently grabbing the hand he was holding out to you to get up and follow him out the door.

the trip to the beach didn't seem as long as it used to be, now that a warm hand was keeping yours company. you no longer had to show him the way, as he now knew the route by heart — even better than you. but today, something seemed to have changed inside your heart. maybe it was because of the way his freshly dyed black hair swept across his forehead in the same way that grains of sand move across the beach in the wind. maybe it was the way numerous shivers ran through your body every time his shoulder brushed yours, like when cold sea water touches your feet on autumn mornings. maybe it was simply the beauty of his face that easily equalled the beauty of a sunset shining on the surface of the ocean.

a ton of maybe trotted through your mind as you struggled to stay focused on the road, far too busy watching the slightest feature of gyuvin's face. even his profile was perfect. unconsciously tightening the grip of your hand around his, gyuvin turns his soft gaze on your face, his pretty brown eyes instantly locked in yours. he was surprisingly so calm — usually, he couldn't help being an overexcited puppy, and you liked that about him. he contrasted with your far too calm personality — he was like the tsunami of your life, shaking up your habits for the better, of course.

but gyuvin knew that these seaside escapades were important for you, that they were necessary for the proper functioning of your mind, they were made to soothe you. so he knew how to stand still and give you the chance to recharge your batteries in peace, even though he had to admit that having the privilege of accompanying you was the greatest accomplishment of all.

let's go back up the creek into the reverse river, to revisit the first time gyuvin's curious eyes landed on your hair floating in the ocean breeze. he must have been in his fifties, where adolescence made him want to escape far away from everything. it was an afternoon when the late summer wind kept reminding him that school was just around the corner, after running aimlessly for an hour, his footsteps led him to this hidden, deserted small beach, where only the sound of the waves crashing on the sand disturbed the tranquillity of the place. it was so beautiful, so pleasant — he felt as if he were floating, his mind carried away by the waves. and that's when he saw you, like a dream. as pretty as a mermaid, your soft face so serene.. he was so jealous of you. you were approaching the serenity he so desperately sought, and it upset him. but that didn't stop him from continuing to look at you with curious doe eyes, as if you weren't capable of feeling a insistent gaze burn your skin. he suspected you must be around his age, because of your youthful facial features glistening in the sunlight. as he watched you without saying a word, without moving an inch, his heart fluttering with lightness at the mere sight of your devastating but peaceful smile. you seemed so far out in the ocean — that intrigued him and led him to appreciate a little more the benefits of the sea. you intrigued him.

so.. to say that he approached you by pure coincidence would be a lie, because when he recognized you, wandering the halls of his high school, he wondered why he'd never noticed you before. with hindsight and a bit of imagination, it was probably because your mind was always stuck in the middle of the ocean and no boat had ever managed to reach your soul — until he decided he was going to make it, even if he had to swim for it. which he did, with flying colors.

« you're okay? » he asked, softly, in a voice that sounded like a siren call to your ears. falling for kim gyuvin was, once upon a time, something inconceivable for you. your head was too much in the clouds, your mind too much in your dreams, and your heart far too rambunctious to consider loving anyone other than the ocean. but he managed to get you to change tack — him and his beautiful sun-kissed brown eyes. shaking your head negatively with a barely visible smile that only he could see, you finally looked away to the horizon, where the entrance to the beach wasn't far off. « we're here. » you announced, tugging a little more firmly on his hand to guide his steps, despite the fact that he knew this road by heart, having travelled it with you so many times.

as you carefully descended the stairs to the beach, the fresh ocean breeze was already tickling your fragile skin. gyuvin was careful not to let go of your hand to prevent you from falling, but this impulse of benevolence caused him to miss the moment when you stopped dead in your tracks to observe the landscape in front of you, his body colliding with yours. « oh.. » was the only thing he was able to say when his chest hit your back, and the next second his gaze was unconsciously fixed on your face, which, once again, seemed so tranquil at the mere sight of waves washing up on the sand eternally. a smile tugged at his lips, his free hand slipping to your hip to hold you close, and his heart racing at the simple knowledge that you were perfectly fine right now. « it's pretty, isn't it? » you finally commented, your words mixing with the wind to reach his ears, and gyuvin nodded positively, his loving gaze lost in the ocean of your eyes.

advancing through the sand, taking care to draw him along with you, you didn't give him time to dream about whether you could be his little mermaid, the one who could save from drowning the prince he could have been. the same one you might abandon on the beach, as you did previously with the fifteen-year-old boy who first saw you a few years earlier. gyuvin liked to think your story would be so pretty to tell — he was one hundred percent sure it would be his little sisters' favorite love story, the one that would make them dream by night and hope by day. yeah, gyuvin was convinced that your love story would inspire many.

now sitting next to each other on the warm sand, gyuvin's fingers quietly played with a lock of your hair, twirling it around his finger, with his tender, benevolent gaze fixed on you. his heart seemed filled with happiness, because he knew that there, right now, right here, sitting in front of that vast blue sea, your heart was soothed, at the height of the happiness you so preciously cherished. and he was perfectly right : sitting on the sand, you held your knees to your chest, your star-filled eyes exploring the ocean you seemed to know by heart. the beauty of the light reflected on the surface of the water, the waves breaking against the shiny sand of the beach, the sound of the latter disturbing the tranquillity of the place, with only a few people strolling by, each looking happier than the next. not far away, a little girl running with her feet in the water, followed by a little boy who seemed to be laughing out loud as he tried to catch up with her. the sun seemed to embrace their skin with its warmth, under the watchful eyes of their parents who were standing not far from them, a light, benevolent smile decorating their faces.

then, as you watched them tenderly, your thoughts suddenly began to wander, taking you to the back of your mind that never stopped thinking. after careful consideration, you began to think that maybe, just maybe, you didn't have to make weekly trips to the beach. because you'd found another way to feel good and happy when the world seemed to be crashing down on you.

looking away from the blue expanse in front of you, your pupils finally meet those of gyuvin. your boyfriend offers you a pretty smile — light, but filled with all the sincerity in the world, his eyes overflowing with love. in your chest, your heart began to race, furiously, warmly, pleasantly, like the first time you fell in love with the sea. gyuvin's love was as deep as the ocean, his hands as soft as water, his eyes as radiant as the sun reflecting on the surface. he'd come into your life by chance, and had been making you want to drown in his arms ever since. he cracked the shell of your heart and slipped inside and never left. and now, he brings you the same warmth and comfort as an afternoon spent observing the ocean. it was strange, a new feeling for you — in your whole life, no one has ever been able to fill the void inside you, to calm the storm that was sometimes your mind, when, with just one little smile, gyuvin made you forget all the ills of your life, as the sea was so adept at doing it. so maybe now, kim gyuvin was the ocean's main rival in your heart.

hooking your hands around his arm, you drew him gently towards you, feeling a certain shyness rise up in you after having spent long seconds staring at him without saying anything. laying your head against his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin against your cheek, his hand slips against one of yours, gently caressing your fingers. « i don't think i need to come here so often anymore. » you say suddenly, attracting the attention of the boy at your side, who raises an eyebrow at you. he wasn't used to seeing you refuse a trip to the seaside, especially knowing perfectly well your love for this beach so dear to your heart. so it was only natural for him to ask you why or how you'd come to think such a thing, his little why floating in the air for a moment without any answer escaping your lips.

tightening your grip around his arm, closing your eyes as the ocean breeze hits your face, a perfectly relaxed smile, the most sincere he'd ever seen, took place on your lips. « i found someone better than the ocean. » you replied, so naturally that gyuvin felt the tips of his ears redden furiously. he wasn't stupid — he knew, he understood that silently, and in your own way, you had just confessed to him that he was like the ocean in your heart. and for him, those words were more powerful than a simple i love you.

gyuvin knew that nothing meant more to you than the sound of the waves and the beauty of the ocean's expanse, which you cherished more than anything else. so, the mere thought of him being superior to the sea in your heart could only make him fall even more in love with you than he already was. his rebellious teenage heart of a few years ago was definitely not wrong : you were the mermaid who kept him from drowning. without answering you orally, gyuvin decided to simply close his eyes in turn, resting his head against yours, enjoying your stroll by the sea which managed to open your heart to him.

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[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 13: Cold compress, Infection, “I don’t feel so good”

This was originally day 2’s fic, but looking at the prompts, I decided to swap them because they fit a little better. Course this one didn’t turn out exactly the way I wanted... *grumble grumble*

Also my medical research was a bit stymied by a lot of “if this happens you’re dead basically” but this is fiction so I decided it was fine. He’s fine. Dw.

Read on ao3

Warnings: injury, infected injury, intense symptoms that arise from infected injury.

————————————————————

Warriors hurried through the woods, nearly tripping on a root as the setting sun shone in his eyes through the trees.

He’d been away from the cave where he’d left Four for more than an hour now, collecting water and looking for signs of the others, and leaving the smithy alone had sent his stomach into knots, even though it had been a necessary trip.

He and Four had been separated from the others after a portal the night before, dropped right into a rough fight. Warriors was only superficially injured, but Four had gotten a nasty gash that went nearly from his ankle to his knee.

They’d done their best to clean and bandage it, but they had no potions and few supplies, and the smithy had lost a lot of blood. He put on a brave face, but was obviously in a lot of pain, and couldn’t even stand without Warriors holding him up.

“I’ll be fine,” he’d said before Warriors had left, but the captain had heard the tremble in his voice, despite the easy-going grin Four had shot him.

And Warriors had left him anyway.

You had no other option, he tried to tell himself as the small cave where he and Four had hunkered down came into view. We needed more water, and that stream was the closest one. Leaving him completely undefended and barely able to move was your only option...

Warriors quickly brushed past the handful of vines that half-obscured the opening, and looked around, breathing heavily from his run.

“Smithy?” he asked as he caught his breath, and the small lump near the wall shifted slightly, revealing a few wayward strands of blond hair.

Warriors let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sight and went over to the pile. Two eyes peered at him through tired sockets, pale cheeks making the grey of Four’s eyes seem even brighter, and for a moment when they caught the light, they almost seemed to shine with a faint iridescence.

“...Wars?” Four mumbled, and Warriors quickly got to a knee next to him, studying the smithy.

Perhaps it was because he’d been away from him for a while, but Four looked significantly worse than he had just an hour ago, pale and weak, trembling when he moved. He seemed even smaller like this, and terribly young, but Warriors firmly shook his worry aside, placing a gentle hand on his forehead. The heat that met him made his heart sink, and he leaned back, feeling dread creep up his spine.

If Four had a fever, that could only mean two things, neither of them good.

“You’re back,” Four murmured in a tired voice, and Warriors nodded, guilt threatening to knock him over with its intensity.

“Yes. I’m so sorry I was gone as long as I was,” he apologized quietly, and Four hummed.

“S’okay. I was fine.”

Warriors looked at him a moment, then asked if he could check his bandages.

Four mumbled an affirmative as he stretched out his leg, and Warriors gently began removing the bandages, trying to convince himself that Four’s skin was merely hot from being wrapped in a blanket. He pulled the bandages loose, and stopped short, heart sinking at the sight underneath confirming what he had suspected.

The gash was now an angry red, inflamed and radiating heat. The edges had hints of pus around them, an unpleasant smell hitting his nose, and Warriors swallowed, setting aside the old bandages and wishing fervently he had more supplies.

Infection had set in.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” Four murmured when he continued to stare, and Warriors nodded, dread hollowing out his chest. “....it infected?”

“Yes,” Warriors said steadily, hoping his voice didn’t betray his fear. “But I’ll get you through it until the others find us. You’ll be fine Smithy.”

“That’s good...”

He went silent, and Warriors got to work cleaning the wound as best as he could, murmuring apologies whenever Four flinched. The bandages were replaced overtop it, and Warriors leaned back, looking over his work. He had laughably few supplies to be dealing with an infection, or really any injury, but he did his best.

No worse then some of the supply shortages in the war.

He could handle this.

“Wars..?” Four murmured a little bit after he finished, and the captain looked down at him, still swaddled in blankets.

“Yes smithy?”

Four looked at him a moment, his grey eyes looking unnaturally bright, then he closed them, turning his head to the side.

“...I don’t feel so good,” Four admitted quietly.

And that more than anything else that had happened today made Warriors’ heart stop with fear. Four never admitted to feeling anything less than fine.

Ever.

Warriors swallowed, and pushed down the panic that was threatening to constrict him. Focus on the problem!

“Can you try eating something?” Warriors said quietly. “You need to keep up your strength.”

Four nodded in reply, and Warriors handed him some of the food they had, watching him nibble silently at the bread. He only managed about half before stopping, and Warriors helped him lie back down, unable to stop himself from feeling his forehead again.

It seemed even hotter, and he quietly sent up a prayer, hoping fervently that Four would only improve.

Goddesses please let this be mild.

But as the sun sank below the horizon and twilight set in, Four grew more and more hazy, taking longer to reply to Warriors’ questions, hands shaking when he reached for water. With every star that appeared, his shivers increased, and Warriors soon found himself waging war against Four’s raging fever.

The smithy kept turning from side to side, seeming like he just couldn’t get comfortable no matter how he lay. Sweat poured down his face, and Warriors had to stop him from getting up more than once, his addled brain making him forget he was injured.

He’d deteriorated so rapidly, Warriors was beginning to wonder if Four had already been sick.

The smithy moaned, and Warriors replaced the damp cloth over his forehead after it was knocked off yet again, sighing as he brushed some dirt off of it.

“Wars...” Four croaked, and the captain ran a hand through his hair, fingers catching on the sweaty strands.

“I’m here smithy, you’re alright,” he said softly, and Four closed his eyes, face screwed up in a wince.

“Wh-where’s everyone else..?” he asked, cracking his eyes open again.

“We were separated, remember Four?” Warriors reminded him. “I’m sure they’re nearby, they’ll be here soon. I know they have potions, so as soon as they get here we’ll fix you up.”

“Oh... good,” he said hazily, then shivered as he closed his eyes. “Not feeling s-so great...”

“I know, just hang on Smithy,” Warriors said quietly, running his hand through his hair again. “You’ll be okay.”

Four leaned into the touch, and soon fell asleep, still shivering on and off. Warriors tucked him a little closer to his side, and made sure he was wrapped fully in the blanket. All he could really do was keep Four comfortable, and try to ease his symptoms until the others found them.

He just hoped it would be enough.

Warriors spent most of the night in a light doze, tending to Four and keeping an ear out for anything approaching the cave. Sometime before dawn Four began to whimper, and Warriors calmed him down, wiping the sweat from his face yet again. His worry only grew stronger as he felt his temperature, and he looked down at the smithy in dismay.

Four looked dazed where he was lying, his eyes half-lidded, shivers wracking through his body. Warriors had never seen him so fragile-looking before, and it... scared him, honestly.

Warriors admittedly didn’t know all that much about Four, not compared to some of the others. But he knew that he was an experienced young man, and possessed a surprising strength for his size, in both physical and mental capacities. Four always came across as so put-together, strong in the face of pain, and dependable to a fault.

Seeing him laid up by an infection, shivering and moaning, and pale as a sheet, worried Warriors more then he’d care to admit.

He’d never seen Four like this.

Warriors sighed, and leaned away to rifle through his bag yet again, hoping he’d find some supplies he’d somehow missed. But a hand grabbed at his arm, hot and shaking, and he looked back to see Four’s expression had turned to a frantic one, eyes wide and scared.

“Don’... don’ leave...” Four breathed, his voice slurred and panicked. “Don’...”

“I’m not going to leave,” Warriors soothed as he leaned back to where he had been, wiping Four’s face again. “I’m staying right here.”

A violent shiver wracked through him, and Warriors moved Four so he was more on his lap, hoping his body heat would help warm him up. Four whimpered and turned into Warriors’ chest, and the captain ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, firmly squashing his fear.

Four would be fine. He was strong. He would be able to fight through this until the others came.

The words were harder to believe the next day when Four was in even worse shape.

His temperature was blistering hot, so much that Warriors was beginning to run out of water to dip the cloth in. He thought about heading to the stream again, but the thought of leaving Four alone in his condition made his stomach churn. Leaving Four by himself wasn’t an option, unless it was a matter of life or death.

It may come to that, he thought grimly as Four moaned, sweat pouring down his face.

“Z-Zel...” he murmured, shivering under the blankets Warriors had placed over him. “Vio, y-you have t...”

Four’s feverish gaze caught on Warriors’ scarf, and his eyes widened, reaching a hand out towards him.

“W-Wars, don’...” he whispered, and Warriors took his hand in his. “I’m not crazy, I’m n-not... I’m not...”

A tear trickled down his cheek, and Warriors gently squeezed his hand.

“I don’t think you’re crazy, Four,” he said in a reassuring voice, and Four closed his eyes, shaking his head.

“Everyone does...” he whimpered, more tears falling. “Th-they say I talk to nothing, a-and my shadow... they don’t think Zel should b-be near... me...”

He let out a hiccupy sob, and Warriors tucked him more into his arms, rubbing his back to try and calm him down.

“Shh, smithy, you’re alright,” he said, and Four buried his head in his lap, a muffled sob escaping him.

“I’m not crazy... I’m not crazy...” Four cried into his tunic, and Warriors continued to hold him until his breathing evened out, and he fell back asleep.

Warriors held him a little tighter, and cleaned his wound again, using up the last of his bandages.

Please, let them find us.

The hours ticked by with nary a sign of anyone aside from themselves, and Four grew weaker every time Warriors checked. He could barely get him to eat anything, no less drink, and his feverish rambling had mostly petered out, replaced only with occasional, faint mumbling.

Warriors never let him go, dutifully cleaning his wound, helping him drink water, and calming him down when he suddenly started crying or otherwise reacted strangely.

Four abruptly woke up again and started gasping that the mirror was broken, and no matter what Warriors did he couldn’t get him to calm down, the smithy either ignoring Warriors’ presence or completely unaware of it.

“Link, easy, you’re safe,” Warriors said soothingly, but Four only panicked even more, nearly throwing himself out of Warriors’ arms.

“He wants to marry her!” Four screamed, and tried to jump to his feet. Warriors put an arm around him to stop him from moving, and Four thrashed, surprisingly strong. “No! No, no no l-lemme go!”

“Four, please, it’s okay,” Warriors tried, and Four screamed again, though it quickly dissolved into more sobbing.

“No, no no no sh-she’s dead...” he wailed, and Warriors held him tight to his chest, trying to comfort him in the only way his addled brain could understand. “Th-the bell... E-Ezlo we were too late.”

He let out an agonized sob, then stared up at Warriors’ face, tears pouring down his cheeks.

Then he abruptly fell limp.

Warriors’ heart skipped a beat as all of Four’s frantic resisting stopped, and his head fell against his arm.

“Smithy?” he asked, but Four didn’t reply, and Warriors quickly turned him over, careful not to jar his leg. “Link. Link.”

Four didn’t move, and Warriors pressed an ear to his chest, blood roaring in his ears. Come on Four, please...

A faint breath rattled under his ear, and Warriors exhaled in relief, sitting up and running a hand through his hair. He was still alive. He still had time.

But now he had a choice.

He could stay here, in a defensible position, safe from monsters and other dangers, or... try and find help.

It wouldn’t be the best for Four to be moved, not with his leg injured, and the overall state he was in. But between sitting here and watching more and more life drain out of him, or be out and actively searching for a way to help...

Warriors closed his eyes, and began to shove things into his pouch.

He couldn’t wait any longer. Staying here wasn’t doing Four any favors.

At least out of the cave, they’d have a chance of finding a town, one with a doctor, or maybe even a fairy loose in the forest. If they were truly fortunate they’d come across the others, but Warriors wasn’t confident in that regard.

They might not even be in the same era as us.

Warriors finished collecting all of his things, and he nudged Four, hoping for a reaction of some kind.

Nothing.

“Come on Smithy. We’re going to find the others,” Warriors said softly, and pulled Four up into his arms, blankets and all. “Or a fairy or something, but we’re not waiting here any longer.”

Four’s head flopped against his shoulder, and Warriors got him settled, making sure his leg especially was secure and wouldn’t be knocked around.

Then he set off into the woods, the late afternoon sun lighting his path.

The weight of Four in his arms was a familiar one, and as Warriors trotted quickly along, he couldn’t help but think back to during the war, and carrying around a different blond hero.

He’d ended up carrying Mask around more than once, but he remembered one incident in particular where Mask had broken his ankle, and Warriors had had to carry him since he could barely move. Mask had nearly complained his ear off at not being able to walk, but he’d rested his head on Warriors’ shoulder anyway, and in the end, fallen asleep in his arms.

Four let out a weak moan, and Warriors sped up his pace. Now wasn’t the time to get lost in memories.

The woods went by at a steady pace, Warriors keeping a sharp eye out for any herbs or fairies or anything that could help Four. His eye didn’t catch on anything though, and all he could do was keep walking as the sun began to go down, and the shadows grew longer.

Four remained almost completely still in his arms, and Warriors stopped more than once to make sure he was still breathing. It was hard to make out, but it was there, and as long as Four was fighting, Warriors would keep walking.

As long as it took.

A flicker of light caught his eye, and Warriors turned to it, immediately hopeful.

“Hello?” he called, then immediately cursed himself for giving himself away. If it was a monster, they were dead.

But Four doesn’t have much longer anyway.

The light flickered again, and Warriors stayed still as he watched it, on guard, but hopeful. A blue, glowing creature abruptly poked its head up, and Warriors stared, watching as it wiggled its... antennae?

Is that a rabbit? he thought wonderingly, staring at the little creature in awe. He’d never seen one before, only heard stories. It’s cute I guess... in a weird sort of way.

“...Can you help me?” he asked, slowly crouching down while still holding Four to his chest. “My friend needs to be healed, he’s... he’s sick.”

The rabbit tilted it’s head, then hopped an inch or two forward, it’s heart-shaped face turned towards Four. It’s nose twitched slightly, then it bolted away and disappeared into a shower of sparkles.

Warriors stared, then closed his eyes in disappointment. He should have known better. Strange magical creatures in the woods were rarely helpful, unless they were fairies.

Four let out a weak murmur, and Warriors pressed his forehead to the smithy’s burning one.

“I’m sorry Four,” he apologized in a whisper, listening to his labored breathing. “I’m so sorry.”

A faint flicker of light caught his eye again, and Warriors raised his head, meeting the golden eyes of the blue rabbit.

It blinked at him, then tilted its head, almost as if it was beckoning him towards him. Warriors carefully got to his feet and took a step forward, and the rabbit twitched it’s antennae, taking a hop away from him. Warriors repeated the action, and the rabbit hopped again, and he began to follow it through the woods, hope starting to rise in his chest.

The sun began to disappear behind the tree trunks, the sky darkening and making the glow of the rabbit stick out more.

Warriors continued to follow, Four growing heavy in his arms. He was still sore from the battle that Four had been injured in, and gotten barely any sleep the night before. He was tired, and aching, and nearly sick with fear for Four, but he kept going, Four’s head tucked under his chin.

The rabbit suddenly stopped in its tracks, raising itself up onto its haunches and twitching its nose. Warriors stopped as well, and the rabbit met his eyes again, glowing softly in the darkness of the woods.

“Captain?!”

Warriors’ head shot to the side, and he nearly fell to his knees in relief as Sky and Wild ran towards him, their worried faces lit by a glowing rod Wild held.

“We’ve been looking for you for days Captain! After that portal we were all together except you and— what happened to Four?” Wild asked, and Warriors closed his eyes as Sky put a worried hand on Four’s head.

“Infection. We need to get him to camp,” he managed to get out, worry for Four one of the few things still fueling him. Sky gave him a searching look as Wild immediately began to lead them back the way they came, and Warriors didn’t resist when he gave him a bit of support.

“How did you find us?” Sky asked, and Warriors glanced back at the rabbit, not surprised to see the creature was nowhere to be found.

“...long story,” he settled with, and Four murmured something in his arms as Sky nodded in silence. Warriors held the smithy tighter, and ran a hand through his hair.

Hold on Four. You’re safe now, you’ll be okay.

Just hold on.

[unexpectedstormy]

Memory

Ask word game???????

Oops I wrote a long thing (824 words) (and I made myself cry writing it). It's called Legend's Grace.

******

Legend sat at Wild's bedside and held his limp hand tightly, willing him to hold on, willing him to pull through.

They'd had a rough week; lots of fighting and lots of injuries. Legend himself sports a bandage around his head and a mild concussion to match. Wild was a trooper, he'd taken an arrow to the ribs one of the days, and though it was healed with a potion, it still bothered him, but not enough to slow him down. That is until yesterday when he collapsed.

The running theory was that the injury was healed but with an infection sealed inside and now here he was sick in bed in a random kind stranger's house with a dangerously high fever and an entrenched chest infection that didn't seem to be responding to any medicine.

"Come on, stay with me," Legend murmured fervently. To his surprise, Wild opened his eyes. He looked up at Legend blearily and giggled.

"I know you," he said softly. "I know that red anywhere."

"Oh thank the goddesses, Champion, you really have had us worried."

"Mipha," Wild exhaled and closed his eyes. Legend froze, his heart racing. He knew what Mipha was someone very important to Wild but exactly how he didn't know. And he knew he did not have the emotional fortitude to have this sort of conversation with him right now.

"I guess if I'm seeing you that's not a good thing," Wild said opening his eyes once more.

"You're going to be fine," Legend said squeezing his hand.

"If you say so."

"I do. Say so." Legend said awkwardly, wishing Wild would go back to sleep. Should he fake being this Mipha person? Or tell him he was Legend? Would that confuse or distress him too much?

"You're still here," Wild said after a minute or two of staring up at Legend's face.

"I'm not going to leave you," Legend said.

"Since you're here..." Wild started then took a rattling noisy inhale and wincing with pain. "I just wanted to say that..."

"Shhh. It's alright. Don't talk, just rest."

"I want to. I need to tell you... I'm sorry."

What for? Legend wondered but he couldn't bring himself to ask. He waited as the seconds ticked by, dreading the answer, already feeling his eyes prickling with tears. Damn concussion making his skin thin and emotions fragile.

"I know you loved me--" Wild started but a wet coughing spell left him struggling to breathe. Legend hovered over him with worry unsure of what to do, wishing literally anyone else was there to help, but everyone else was sleeping in the barn.

"Sidon said you wanted to propose," Wild continued once his breath returned enough for him to speak.

Tears pooled in Legend's eyes. Nononono he did not need to know that information. So Mipha had been Wild's girlfriend, his almost fiancee? Legend didn't know much about her, but he knew she was dead.

"And... I'm sorry," Wild continued, oblivious to Legend's struggle. "I'm sorry, but... I lost my memory. I don't remember you... not much anyway."

Legend wiped his eyes on his sleeve and put on a brave face.

"I don't know if past me loved you, but... I don't now--not in that way--but... I do feel some love for you...? I don't know. My emotions are confused."

"It's okay. I understand," Legend said trying to keep his voice strong and unwavering, but all he could see in his mind was his own lost love, all he could see was her her her--her red hair in the breeze, her cheery smile, her blue dress...

"Your father was right... it really is a shame we'll never know what could have been."

It was a shame we'll never know what could have been. Tears streamed down Legend's face and his shoulders shook with silent sobs.

It was a shame Legend didn't have more time with Marin, it was a shame what happened wasn't real, it was a shame he could never see her again, hold her again, speak with her again, except in his own dreams. How he yearned for her, how he wanted her in his life again more than anything in the world. She was his beloved and he was once hers.

"One thing I do remember... before the calamity..."

"What?" Legend uttered roughly with emotion.

"You wanted to spend more time together... Let's do that. I want to get to know you again."

"Yes," Legend said his heart heavy with grief. "I would like that very much."

"One last thing... before I sleep," Wild said in a fading voice.

Legend wiped his eyes and nose, forcing himself to take a deep breath and regain some semblance of his shattered composure.

"Thanks for being there for me, through everything."

Thank you for everything, Link!

Legend smiled through the tears and the pain and he said it, he meant it with all his heart:

"It was my pleasure."

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Pillow

Opera

As any cat owner knows, if a cat decides to sleep on your lap, never... ever... move. Don't try to get up. Don't try to move the cat at all. Why? Of well, even if a cat doesn't have claws, you have now made yourself the main focus of that animal.

Why would that be a bad thing, you might wonder. Well... cats, even if they are the sweetest thing in your world... are pure chaos. Don't argue. You know it's true.

And if Earth cats are bad, cats found in the netherworld are worse. Not only are they more dangerous than normal cats, but they are more unpredictable.

Maybe that's why you freeze when out of nowhere Opera has decided to rest their head in your lap. You were chosen. You could actually die happily as you stared down at the sleeping cat demon.

It was rare that Opera ever took time to show affection, let alone rest. And now they were snuggled up on your lap! You would kill if anybody disturbed your precious feline.

Even other teachers seemed to know to give you plenty of space in that moment. Like you had a radioactive bomb strapped to you. A precious chaotic bomb.

You watched as they kneaded into your thigh with their claws. Sleeping peacefully. You weren't moving even if heaven and hell collapsed. Even the slightest movement might wake them.

"How long are you planning to let them stay like that?" Furcas-San asked. "As long as necessary." The older demon tries not to look amused. "Really?" You nod. "I am prepared to reside here permanently if I must."

Balam

It's okay... you didn't need your heart. It wasn't being used for much anyway. Just watching the cutest cuddliest demon sleeping in your lap was more than worth having your heart stolen.

Tears stream down your face. You are so blessed. You can die happily. The large demon, who was usually your pillow, had his head resting on your thighs as you relaxed in the garden.

You had already taken hundreds of pictures. You had also chosen to weave a bunch of flowers into his long silky hair. How could you not? It was right there tempting you!

The gargoyles wings huddled around you both in a protective barrier. Feathers brushing against your skin. You cooed at the soft rumblings from his chest. Hearts in your eyes.

The best part, though. The absolute best part hands down was when he was in between sleep and awake. Those blurry eyes stare up at you registering his surroundings.

The slow blush that would spread through his cheeks, past his mask and up his ears. The way he'd try to curl up and hide his face in your lap again. The soft whine that escaped his throat. There was never a more perfect moment.

Kalego

Well... if Opera wasn't one to show affection often, it seemed like hell needed to be turned upside down for Kalego. You had been reading while the strict demon was grading papers. It had been a rather eventful day.

Maybe that was why the rigorous canine eventually submitted to exhaustion. His stiff shoulders relaxed, and his posture slumping slightly. Eyes beginning to droop.

Gently, you comb your fingers through his dark hair. Encouraging his fatigue. He sinks lower, resting against your body. Practically melting at your touch. How adorable.

Finally, he ends up resting his head on your lap. Settling his head along your waist. His face buried in the crook of your hip. His body putty at this point.

He was so relaxed that his tail had poked out. Softly thumping on occasion as you continued coaxing him into a deep slumber. Such a good doggy.

[c-t-r-l14]

Session 32

“You don’t know what love is,

if you don’t put up a fight.”

———————💔———————-

Synopsis: If Alex wants you gone so badly, then you will be gone like the wind.

——————————-💔—————————

You really didn’t want to do this.

Just the thought of seeing those brown eyes of ebony was enough to make your stomach drop. You’d rather do anything else—be anywhere else. Yet there you were, standing right in front of the door to the apartment you two shared together. It’s been a few days since you’ve last seen it; since you’ve last seen him. Your mother insisted that you stayed over at her house for a little while longer—despite your protests.

“I think its best if you stayed here and cool off”, she murmured, handing you a cup of tea, “I don’t think its smart to go back in the condition you’re in.”

She was probably right. When you arrived at her door a few days ago, you were hysterical; your eyes red and wide—burning with the tears that streamed down your face, your nose red and runny, and the only sounds that left your mouth were incomprehensible sobs and labored breaths. It took you a while to calm down, and even longer to tell your mother what happened. You were in no condition to go home, let alone face him. It’s not like you’d know what to say to him anyway. You were too hurt to think. So, for those few days, you decided to stay with your mother. You guys went on walks, she gave you advice, and was your shoulder to cry on when you needed to let all that stress and pain go. And for the few days you had spent with her, you found solace. Deep down you knew you it wouldn’t last forever, but you wanted so badly to stay with her and pretend that your problems didn’t exist. And unfortunately, your mother knew, too.

“You’re gonna have to go back eventually,” she told you one morning, as you two were drying off the dishes, “You can’t avoid him forever.”

“I know, mama,” you sighed, “but it’s just so hard, and I just don’t know what to do.”

Your mother put the plate on the on the counter, and you felt her piercing stare on your skin.

“(Y/N),”—you lifted your head to look at her—“I taught you better than to run away from your problems. And you know good and damn well what to do, you’re not stupid.”

“It’s not that simple, mama—”

“I never said it was, baby. These things never are. But, avoiding your problems will not make them disappear, it’ll only make things harder.”

You didn’t respond. You merely turned your attention back to the dishes and continued to dry off the plates.

“I’m not asking you to get back together with him—hell, I really don’t think you should. But you can’t let him walk around thinking that the way he acted was right, either. You know how to stand up for yourself.”

“I know, mama. It’s just so—god—-it’s so difficult, and—”

“Anything worth doing is difficult, (Y/N),” she tenderly held your face in her warm hands, “but it being hard isn’t an excuse to avoid your problems.”

You felt your eyes burn with tears, and a shaky sigh passed through your lips. She was right.

“Don’t let him get away with the way he treated you, (Y/N). If you just stay here and never speak to him again, then you’ve already accepted defeat! And If there’s one thing about me, is I ain’t raise no damn quitter!”

Your mother wiped the tears that ran down your cheeks.

“Let that bastard know that he can’t just pull you outta his life and throw you away. Speak up. And show him that you will not go out quietly. Do you hear me?”

You sniffled.

“Yes, mama.”

………

You wanted so badly to turn around and leave—go to a place where he’ll never see you again; but this was something you had to do. Alex made his decision, and you made yours—and the only thing you could do was respect his choice as much as you can. And so, with sweaty palms, a pounding heart, and the terrible feeling of trepidation coursing through your veins, you inserted your keys into the keyhole, and opened the door.

Only to find that your little apartment was empty.

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding; a small part of you was relieved that he wasn’t there. You weren’t in the mood for any type of conversation with him. But that relief didn’t exactly quell the dread that ran through your veins. It didn’t make your hands any less shakier, or your face any less hotter. It didn’t calm your beating heart, or wipe the sweat off your brow. And it most certainly didn’t fill the hollowness that encapsulated your entire body. As you walked to the closet, you tried your best to shake off these horrible feelings by attempting to reassure yourself.

This will all be over soon.

You’ll find someone else.

It’s for the best.

But those attempts were half-hearted at best, and insincere at worst. You grabbed the suitcase that laid on the top shelf of the closet, and dragged it to the room you and Alex once shared.

And your chest grew tight and heavy as you took your clothes out of the drawers and put them into the suitcase.

….

The jingling of a second pair of keys made your hands clammy. You swore under your breath as you heard those same keys jostle in the front door. Alex was back, and you weren’t even done packing. You squeezed your eyes shut as you heard him step in the apartment.

Relax.

You took in a deep breath as you heard the confused tone in his voice.

“Wha—(Y/N)??”

You released it, and spoke.

“I’m in the bedroom.”

And you steeled yourself as you heard Alex’s footsteps hastily approach the bedroom.

You will not go out quietly.

You saw him. For the first time in days, you saw him, and there was nothing but panic written all over his face.

“Good god, (Y/N), I knew you were staying over at your mom’s house, but you could’ve at least told me that you were staying there for more than a day! Why didn’t you answer any of my calls or texts?? I didn’t even know when you got back ‘till I saw your shoes at the door—”

In all of his panic, it took Alex a couple of seconds to notice that the drawers to the dressers were ajar and the suitcases with your clothes inside. You saw his eyes widen as the realization hit, but the feeling of incredulity made him ask one singular question:

“W-Where are you going?”

The quiver in his voice made you die inside, and yet you kept you voice low, and your tone firm and flat.

“Away,” You simply replied, “I’m moving out.”

————————💔————————

A/N: So, I’ve had this story in my head for quite a while now, and have a really good concept on how I want it to pan out. It took me such a long time to do because of finals, and writing Alex’s dialogue just pisses me off so bad—to the point where I ACTUALLY have to take breaks in between writing. I’m so sorry about the cliffhanger, y’all 💀, but unfortunately, this story will have to be broken up into two parts. Its already way too damn long 😭

The Part 2 will be out in a lil’ bit ya’ll, just hold on! 😭

Hope ya’ll enjoyed it so far, though!

Masterlist

[chaenniz]

bad idea! - 8. late

the doorbell jingled softly as chaewon stepped into the cozy warmth of the cat cafe. the aromatic scent of freshly brewed coffee and the gentle purring of feline companions greeted her.

chaewon glanced around, searching for the perfect spot to settle down and immerse themselves in their study materials.

spotting a table by the window, bathed in a stream of golden sunlight, they made their way over and pulled out their textbooks and laptop.

it was the perfect ambiance for a productive study session. however, there was one obstacle standing in her way – she had to wait for y/n, her sworn enemy and project partner, to arrive before they could start.

where was she anyway? y/n was already running 15 minutes late to their agreed meet-up time. chaewon was starting to think that she bailed on her.

just then, a familiar puppy-like teammate of y/n walks into the cafe, sporting the black and white uniforms that employees wore at the cafe.

yujin simply smiles at chaewon, before heading into the shop’s break room, waiting for her shift to start.

sighing, chaewon settled into their seat and absentmindedly sipped her iced americano, she never really liked coffee, but found that americanos were one of the few drinks she could tolerate.

she had always found solace in the company of cats, and this little haven provided a much-needed respite from the tensions of hers and y/n’s rivalry. soft mews and gentle purrs filled the air as the resident felines lounged lazily across the room, seemingly oblivious to the world.

not wanting to lose anymore time, chaewon starts going over the project outline again, not willing to tank another bad grade due to your careless actions.

lost in thought, chaewon barely noticed when y/n walked in. her eyes widened in surprise, and a fleeting moment of panic gripped her heart.

as chaewon looked up at y/n, she couldn’t deny that the girl in front of her was radiating an undeniable allure.

dressed in form-fitting athletic attire that accentuated her curves, y/n embodied both strength and femininity. her body glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration, making chaewon ask herself if she ran here after practice.

y/n’s hair, tousled and slightly damp, falls effortlessly around her shoulders, framing a face that screams ‘yeah, i know i’m hot.’

every move y/n makes reveals the grace and power of her well-toned physique. the beads of sweat that cling to her skin highlight her sculpted muscles, showcasing the results of countless hours of dedication and hard work.

for some reason, your appearance looked really good to chaewon right now, her mouth slightly ajar.

before chaewon could stare at you any longer, your low voice and uneven breathing from running to the cat cafe stopped her.

"hey," y/n greeted, her voice surprisingly gentle. “sorry, i’m all sweaty, i ran here.” chaewon high fives herself for getting that right.

chaewon cleared her throat hurriedly, trying to compose herself. she wasn’t nervous, you had just caught her off guard, that was all, yup.

"…that’s okay” she managed to say, her voice sounding more confident than she felt.

y/n chuckled awkwardly and took the seat across from chaewon. "sorry again, you know, for being late,” y/n paused before continuing, looking directly into chaewon’s eyes, “should we get started?"

relieved by her somewhat amicable approach, chaewon nodded and opened their textbook.

at the very least, the two of you weren’t at each others throats. maybe this project would be different after all.

back from the dead 🙏

masterlist | next | previous

taglist!

@awkwardtoafault @yourforeverrynn @cwpiqwon @urfriendlylocalidiot @skisk1 @chaersly @chaewonluvsme @myothegreat @kyaitosz @kvnii @slowlyturninggay291 @craftymasterlistcomicsprune @cine-cult @babycubchae @neuftaeng @c1ar4 @wmnrhot @limbforalimb @xuimhao @bzeus28 @xzaylie @spritin @hyukasverse @sserajeans @abbiestearsricochet

[catharsis-in-darkness]

Family Affairs: Chapter One

Authors Note: This definitely took longer than expected, so i’m sorry for the wait!

Pairing: Vinny Mauro x Reader

CW: Fluff, Mentions of children, Implied smut

Word count: 1,053

Tags: @tearfallpixie @jilliemiw86 @vinyardmauro

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged!

It was a lazy Sunday afternoon for me and Vin. He was streaming and playing WoW, while I was sitting on the couch next to him reading a book. He would occasionally look over at me, making sure I was okay as he had been streaming for nearly 4 hours. I would always give him a nod back before continuing on with my book. Eventually I drifted off to sleep, waking up to Vin picking me up off the couch.

“C’mon Princess, let’s get you to bed.” He carried me bridal style into our bedroom and set me softly on our bed. I reached my arms out towards him, attempting to get him to join me. I grumbled when my hands were met with air.

“Let me change first, love.” I threw my head back with a groan, finally prying my eyes open to look at him. We made eye contact as he was pulling his shirt off. I wiggled my eyebrows at him. He laughed softly at my antics before laying down next to me. Lifting his arm so I could lay on his chest.

“I love you Y/N.” He murmured into my hair. I softly kissed his chest. “I love you more Vincenzo.” I whispered into his skin.

Vinny and I met at a gaming convention 3 years ago. It was the best thing to ever happen to me.

*flashback*

“Oh my god! Y/N we have to go over to the WoW tent!!” My best friend Logan, grabbed my hand pulling me along. I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going. Logan loved video games, I on the other sucked at them. I only played for fun, on occasion.

“Oh shit!” Was all I heard before my body crashed into another, causing my coffee to spill all over me. I let out a gasp looking down at my now soaked clothes.

“I am so so sorry! Let me help you.” A rushed voice met my ears as I looked up to see a head of messy curls scrambling to grab napkins from a nearby table. He grabbed as many as he could from the dispenser making his way back to me. The unknown man started wiping at my jeans hurriedly.

“Don’t even worry about it, they’re old jeans anyways. It’s probably time I get rid of them.” I tried to lighten the mood, but the panic was set on his face. I softly grabbed his hands, attempting to grab a napkin from him. “Fuck dude, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” He apologized yet again.

“I promise it’s okay.” I smiled at him. He finally looked me in the eye. The realization of how attractive this man was hit me. He had a curly bob, with red money pieces. He looked flustered, a light blush covering his cheeks.

“Let me make it up to you, please.” My brow raised at that. He obviously feels bad and it was an accident.

“No, it’s okay I promise you uh…” I dragged on.

“Vinny, my name is Vinny.” He finished for me.

He ended up buying me a new coffee, and ever since then we’ve been inseparable.

*present*

“You know I always think of what would’ve happened if you never ran into me that day.” I gasped, lightly smacking his chest. “You ran into me!” The accusation leaving my mouth hurriedly. He grabbed my hand that smacked him and intertwined our fingers.

“I know mama, I’m just messing with you.” He chuckled, his thumbs soothing running over my knuckles.

“Go to bed, idiot.”

“As long as I’m YOUR idiot.”

I woke up before Vin and got up to make us breakfast. I giggled at his groans of protest before slipping on the shirt he discarded of his body last night. Today the boys were leaving for a 3 month long tour. To say I was sad, was an understatement.

Getting used to Vinny being gone for long periods of time has been a struggle. Even after 3 years, my heart still pangs at the thought of him leaving. I was pulled from my thoughts as warm arms wrapped around my waist.

“Good morning, Princess.” Vin murmured into my skin, as he placed kisses along my shoulder. “Good morning, Love. Did you sleep okay?” I basked in the warmth of his body as I whisked some eggs in a bowl.

“I slept like a baby, I always do when you’re next to me.” I rolled my eyes at the corny comment before I turned to face him. Nervousness started bubbling in my stomach as I looked into his eyes.

“So uh- When are we gonna make some?” I questioned shyly.

“When are we gonna make what?” He asked, moving around me to start cooking the scrambled eggs. He grabbed a pack of sausage out of the fridge and threw them in a pan, all while I watched him silently. He noticed my silence quickly turning to look at me.

“Babies. When are we gonna make some mini Vincenzo’s and Y/N’s?” His head tilted at my question, almost looking like a confused puppy. His brows furrowed and a look of surprise washed over his facial features.

“You- You want to have kids??” His tone was uneven. Fuck this was a mistake wasn’t it? I should’ve known better with touring that he wouldn’t want to settle down and have kids. We’re not even married yet, for fucks sake.

“You’re right, it was a dumb question.” I awkwardly turned around hiding the embarrassment on my face.

“Look at me, Princess. Whenever you’re ready, I’m ready. It wasn’t a dumb question. I’d love to have children with you. I don’t call you Mama, just for fun.” He grabbed me softly, forcing me to look into his eyes. I heard the slight sarcasm towards the end of his sentence.

“You actually wanna have kids, Vin?” My eyes started watering. Of course, he does. We had that conversation very early on in our relationship. Why was I doubting him before? God my brain is so stupid sometimes.

“Of course, my love. In fact, we can start right now.” His brows wiggled in anticipation. After the stove was turned off, our breakfast was long forgotten about as we raced into the bedroom.

Part 2