#champagne gate saved the day

[tennis-kittens]

Dominic Thiem • Generali Open 2023 • Trophy Ceremony

Just two grown ass men trying to open Champagne bottles.

[jinwoosungs]

{ 141 }

slow dancing in the dark.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

{ when i’m around slow dancing in the dark | don’t follow me, you’ll end up in my arms. }

there was an indescribable pain felt in the pit of your stomach when you saw jinwoo dancing together with hae-in.

chairman go gunhee had decided to hold a ball of some sort, wishing to celebrate the powerful hunters worldwide as he booked the ballroom of a luxurious hotel for this occasion. being a well known a-rank healer, of course you were invited as well.

but what you weren’t expecting was to see jinwoo entering the party with hae-in hanging on to his arm.

and oh, how the paparazzi basked in their grand entrance!

cameras flash, taking different angles and what seemed like a million photographs of jinwoo with hae-in. while jinwoo was dressed in a cream colored suit that seemed to fit him to perfection, hae-in complemented him by wearing her own sleek dressed colored in gentle, peach hues.

the sight of them together made you hold on to your flask of champagne in a tighter manner, nearly breaking the glass as your eyes began to shine with unshed tears.

sung jinwoo didn’t know this, but you had been in love with him ever since you first laid eyes on him. if you had ever admitted such feelings to anyone else, they would have immediately assumed that you developed such feelings when he had gotten stronger, as an s-rank-

but they would be wrong. in fact, you were proud to admit that you had loved him even when he was a mere e-rank hunter.

you were certain that he didn’t remember you, but back then, when he was known as the weakest in the world, you had saved him from a similar near death experience.

the gate was merely a c level gate, and it had gone awry when jinwoo and his then teammates came across a monster den. it was the sheer numbers that ended up overwhelming the team, and when it became too much for them to handle, they left jinwoo behind the moment his chest got pierced by one of the beast’s claws.

they didn’t even bother to heal him, and it wasn’t until you were called in as backup with your own team to continue raiding the gate that you found jinwoo at such a devastating state.

you ignore everything else surrounding you, seeing the deep wound against his chest as the beast made a tear against his signature blue hoodie. blood was pouring from his parted lips, yet still, you simply brush back his hair before placing palm of your hand against his bleeding chest.

your stomach churned at the sensation of warm blood felt against the palm of your hand, but you powered through and allowed your healing aura to surround him in a pale, golden glow. within minutes, his dire wound begins to close up, the blood ceasing its flow as his breathing took on a more relaxed and less labored state.

you would never forget the tears of happiness that poured from his stormy eyes, his sweet voice thanking you over and over again, filling you with a warmth you had not felt in a while.

and after leading him back to the safety of the real world, you made a promise to yourself to always watch over him and remain by his side, healing him from the worst the gates had planned for him.

what you didn’t expect was for him to suddenly grow stronger, seeming to take on high level dungeons as he seemed to level up little by little each and every day. while working at the association, you made note of how he lost his lanky form, filling out almost too well as he swapped his inexpensive clothes with pristine dress shirts and suits that he managed to fill perfectly.

he was taller, and his face lost its usual roundness-

but what always remained the same was the gentle hue of his grey eyes-

and those same eyes were looking down at hae-in with such a fondness that made your breath hitch almost painfully in response.

yet you refused to cry at such a public occasion, choosing instead to drain the rest of your champagne while slamming the empty glass against your table. the moment you could hear the beginnings of a sweet love song began to play was when you excused yourself from the party.

you attended the ball by yourself, being filled with a foolish hope that jinwoo would ask you to dance-

that he too, had come alone to such a party.

yet clearly, that wasn’t the case the moment he enters the ballroom with the gorgeous s-rank hunter practically clinging to him. the memory of them dancing together being enough to make your throat close.

within minutes, you escape the stifling atmosphere of the party and head out into the grand balcony, greedily breathing in the cold air as you felt the skirt of your dress swaying in tune with the wind. you felt a strange comfort, basking in the vastness of the night sky while closing your eyes in response to the gentle winds, allowing it to caress you as you imagined it being akin to a lover’s touch.

“i was not expecting such a lovely flower to be out here by herself.”

a rich voice was heard, and you felt a strange sense of hope filling you-

only to be met with the man known as the hero of china-

liu zhigang.

“oh, h-hello, sir.” you were not expecting the handsome man to actually take the time to learn your language in order to properly communicate with you, and you were left feeling flustered all while brushing back your stray strands of hair.

liu seems amused by your reaction, coming closer to you while gently caressing at your cheek.

“you are disappointed to see me?”

your throat turns dry, but you immediately shake your head in response to his question.

“n-no sir! it’s just, i didn’t expect to see you and have you talking to me, that’s all.”

you hear him let out a rich chuckle, deep, golden eyes looking at you with a tender expression you had never seen before. “there’s no need to lie to me. come, let this poor man assuage you of your heartache.”

not even waiting for your response, liu zhigang takes you in his arms all while gently swaying to the music. you were mesmerized, captivated by his masculine beauty-

but you found that your heart couldn’t quite race for him, not like it did for jinwoo.

liu simply chuckles in response, gently taking a hold of your head as he allows you to rest it against his chest.

“you love him, the pompous s-rank hunter who beat thomas andre half to death?”

you could feel your face turn hotter in response, giving liu a nod.

“yes, you could tell, sir?”

you listen to the sounds of his laughter, still swaying you within his arms as you simply follow his movements, surprised to find that you were still having fun despite the heartache that you felt.

“any man could see it from a mile away.”

liu was still laughing, and you saw him stop moving while keeping you in his arms. he lets out what sounds like a curse in his mother tongue, eyes locked in on someone behind you.

“don’t lose hope just yet, my lovely flower. for that cocky asshole may be feeling some type of ways for you, too.”

you let out a gasp, finally turning around to see jinwoo himself adjusting his tie, eyes already glowing a startling purple hue as he takes quicks strides towards you and liu.

“if he breaks your heart, you know where to find me, my lovely flower.”

with that last whisper against your ear, the chinese hunter lets go of you just as jinwoo approaches you, already sizing up the man with his fists clenched close to his sides.

“mind if i intervene…?”

jinwoo asks liu out of courtesy, but you could tell from the intensity of his eyes and the forceful tone of his voice that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

liu steps away with a smirk, holding up his hands in mock defeat. “by all means, go on. if that’s the case, i shall keep your own date company.”

“go ahead, just leave her alone.” jinwoo practically snarls while keeping a protective arm wrapped around you. liu ends up letting out a rich chuckle, giving you one last wink before disappearing back into the party.

you were given little chance to react the moment jinwoo takes you in his arms, holding you even closer than liu ever dared to. his eyes were still glowing purple, but they appeared much softer now in comparison to how they were when liu was around.

you were still left feeling speechless, feeling your lips open up in a slight part when jinwoo takes a hold of your hands to wrap them around his neck. you were basking in his warmth for a few more minutes before gathering the courage to ask him.

“i thought y-you were with hae-in…?”

jinwoo lets out a scoff while looking away from you, blushing as he cleared his throat.

“no, i’m not. i only agreed to take her to the ball so she wouldn’t feel as nervous. we’re together as friends…. that’s it.”

you could feel the hope bubbling within your chest, with your eyes meeting with his gentle, grey gaze. he laughs softly, taking a hold of your hand when he places a kiss against the back of it.

“how could i ever forget about the girl that saved my life… the girl i have always loved since the moment i first laid eyes on you?”

your heart was pounding now, the sensation of hope now felt coursing through your very veins as tears filled your vision.

“y-you remembered me?”

a look of adoration appears across jinwoo’s features. “always.”

he sighs then, letting go of your hand as his expression began to turn angry, his lips now turned in a scowl. “i wanted to become stronger for you, to slowly turn into the man that you always deserved- only the best version of me.”

“but it seems as though my hesitance was enough to have that snake make a move on you.”

you let out a gentle giggle, feeling his arms tighten around your waist when he brings you even closer to his chest. but you didn’t mind, still clinging to him as you rest your head against his chest.

“you silly dork… i… have loved you even when you were at your weakest. you didn’t need to wait so long for me… i would have accepted you always, offering you the type of unconditional love that you deserve.”

you bask in the sounds of jinwoo’s relieved sigh, holding you even closer to him as he brushes his lips against your hair.

“yeah, you’re right. if i wasn’t such a coward, then i would have had you in my arms a long time ago.”

and as your happiness was felt coursing through your veins, you continue holding on to the man you have always loved, slow dancing in the dark with him alone.

a.n. - i am on a joji binge 😭😭😭😭 slow dancing in the dark is still such a masterpiece to this day!!!!

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[dramioneasks]

New Year’s Day Fics (2024):

Glitter On The Dance Floor by wantsgmarie, WritexAboutxMe - E, one-shot - Following the events of You're My Home , Hermione gets her wish, and Draco escorts her to his Mother's annual New Year's Eve Gala. -or- They torment Lucius, drink champagne, dance and then fuck. Happy New Year's my loves. This story can be entirely read and enjoyed on its own, but the beginning does reference the events of part 1.

A Bottle of Blotson's by thepotterfamily - E, WIP - A little Christmas tale in which Hermione and Draco are workaholics spending the holidays in the Ministry halls together, but separate. In which Draco steals Hermione’s ink and makes up for it with the best gift she’s ever received. In a world where Draco is Hermione’s golden boy and Hermione is Draco’s saving grace, please enjoy my ten-part Christmas tale that is really more of a New Years Eve story. Eventually NSFW.

The Library Liaison by UltramarineOrchid - E, WIP - When Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy realise they’ll need to ring in the New Year by fake-dating, they think that’s just what comes with the job. Little do they know that they’re going to get far more than they bargained for.

New Years Past by magicalsydney (magicandmanuscripts) - G, one-shot - Five years of monumental New Years’ Eves for Hermione and Draco.

A New Year, Together by oceanxpoppy - E, one-shot - She was not fine. She could admit that. She hadn’t been fine in months, if she was honest with herself. It’s something she rarely was anymore, but the exhaustion of the evening had stripped her bare, and all that was left was the feeling she most abhorred; longing. A longing for a man who wanted absolutely nothing to do with her.

What Are You Doing New Year's Eve? by Granger_Danger1234321 - not rated, one-shot - Draco and Hermione are the only single ones left out of their friend group. Draco proposes a fake dating arrangement to get them through the holiday season. Just a silly, fluffy holiday fic with a fake dating trope.

Raise a Toast by MarinaJune - M, one-shot - It's the cusp of a new year, and Draco Malfoy is finally ready to take the next step forward away from his grief and his pining. Ahead of him stands Minister Granger-Weasley. Recently-divorced. The centre of attention in a crowd high on hope and celebration.

ringing in the new year by moscovit - M, one-shot - Hermione hates parties, especially intimate ones. When she gets an invitation to Blaise Zabini's New Year's party, she's got no excuse not to go. But Blaise's girlfriend, Ginny, is kind of an ex friend now after a very public breakup with Ron, and they haven't spoke in weeks. This is the story of semi anti social Hermione suffering through a party with a group of friends she doesn't feel like she belongs with.

Midnight wish by Katibugg3 - not rated, one-shot - Hermione is attending the Malfoy's New Years Eve gala alone. Thank God for the expensive wine Draco always has for her.

New Year's Resolutions by arborlibrary - M, one-shot - Hermione had not seen him since the day she’d originally been dragged into his manor and tortured by Bellatrix, while he’d just watched. She’d always wondered if he’d ever make an appearance, after six years of absolutely detesting her at Hogwarts. But he never had, and none of the others had ever mentioned him, either. And he was alone. “Granger,” he finally whispered, remaining on his side of the locked gate. She cautiously approached, though still stayed out of reach. “What do you want?” she rasped, trying to remember how long it had even been since she’d last spoken. Now she was close enough to watch his throat bob as he gulped. “It’s New Year’s Eve.”

Can I Be Yours? by Wanderingfair - E, 2 chapters - “Stop stalling.” She laughed. “Right.” he confirmed, “I’m off to have a dastardly time bashing around Londo- oh, wait, no, I’m off to go meet the gold-digger Mum set me up with,” he snapped. “I get those two confused all the time.” “Go,” she urged, tucking her mouth into the sleeve of her jumper to hide her smile. “I’ll be up reading when you get home.” “You’ll be asleep on the library sofa and we both know it.” He winked, before closing the door. OR Hermione is forced to watch her best friend Draco Malfoy go on dates and finally confront the fact that she doesn't just love him, she is in love with him.

Draco Malfoy's Five Step Plan to Being Forgettable by OneEqualTemper - E, one-shot - Five times Draco said, “New year, new me!” and one time Hermione said, “But I like the old you.”

things that have never been by ohthedrarry - E, one-shot - 31 December 2009 – Draco finds himself sitting alone at a bar, much like he had in December 1999, bringing in the New Year with a glass of whiskey and a sense that this next decade won’t be any better than the last. Until Hermione Granger wanders in with mascara smudged under her eyes, demanding a dry martini.

make a wish by thatblondebitvh - M, one-shot - Theodore Nott's New Year's experiment goes wrong. Chaos ensues.

That One Night That Draco And Theo Sent A Message by allyseisfalling - E, one-shot - It's New Years Eve night and Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott decide to go hunting.

Zero O'Clock by forestknifefight - G, one-shot - “You,” Malfoy begins, drawing Hermione’s attention again. He still isn’t looking at her, favoring the book now held in both hands. His mouth drops open like he’s afraid to speak. “I…?” She prompts him to continue. She lets her arm relax against the table, her quill nearly falling from her hand. His mouth shuts momentarily. He inhales through his nose but still does not look up at her. “You aren’t celebrating.”

Happy New Year Draco Malfoy by MissusB - E, one-shot - After going through the emotional constipation of gifting Hermione his love all December, he finally gets to tell her in person. Even better, he gets to show her as they agree to spend New Year's evening together and maybe start a new tradition together.

[thecameronchronicles]

After Hours

TW: smut. Language. Praise kink. Degrading language? Cheating. Age gap, reader is above 18. 

SUMMARY: Ward can't stomach the idea of Rafe being the one to take you out. So he cuts to the chase and shows you what he can offer you... 

WORD COUNT: 1700

REQUESTED

Reader being Ward’s assistant and and he overhears Rafe talking about asking her out next time he sees her so he gets kinda jealous and asks reader to drop off something at his house and he fucks her in his office 

After Hours 

"It doesn't take much for girls like her. A drink or two, a few pretty words, and she'll be on her knees for me without much more than that..." Rafe spoke to Topper while awaiting the elevator, unaware his father stood in earshot of this misogynist conversation. 

"Why don't you ask her now?" 

"Cause I am going out with Kara or whatever her name is from accounting. Heard she is good for an hour...and I need to let off some steam..." The boys descending via the elevator would leave Ward alone with you. It wasn't a rarity as you were as hardworking as him, and yet, this was the first time you would remain with him holding convictions such as these. Of course, you were not aware of his motivations, even as he slipped closer to you and his eyes had become plagued with the lust that had built until now. Those pencil skirts hugging your curves perfectly and those blouses accentuating your chest to leave little of your physique to the imagination. And the thought of someone like his son tarnishing your perfection was too much to bear. He had to act. And he intended to. Tonight. 

"You work far too hard." He startled you, your hand rising to your chest to broadcast this as he quickly apologized. 

"It's alright, Mister Cameron," His jaw clenched to the title as it was impossibly arousing for him. No matter how many times he asked you to call him anything else. And every time you would defy him. Every time, you would remain professional. Even if your thoughts sometimes ventured elsewhere. 

"I'd just thought you had gone home..." 

"I was about to...But I have a meeting in an hour. Would you be able to drop this off for me?" 

"At your house?" You asked nervously, not because you'd never been, as you knew the layout of Tannyhill well to the times you frequented. Instead, it had been for the time of night. 

"It's important paperwork or I wouldn't ask. You can help yourself to some wine and wait for me if you'd like, I'd love to discuss your raise-" Your expression illuminated. You were already well taken care of as an employee, but the idea of more money was never something you would shy away from. So you would agree, well aware you earned every cent through every grueling day, as you set off out of town and to the front gate of his estate. 

It wasn't long until you were walking the familiar halls, but this had been the first time in this context. Where Rose wasn't glaring at you from behind a champagne glass, or to feign a smile a second later to save face. And you couldn't help but be a little curious, validating in this venture that you were truly alone. 

"Red if I remember correctly..." Ward's voice suddenly called from the kitchen as you nodded, accepting the glass. 

"Please, make yourself comfortable...In my office..." He led you to the dark room illuminated by a few dim means of luminescence as you had never ventured to his home study. The sight was intoxicating for your bibliophile heart as you were surrounded by books and history, both things you were excited for. 

"You like to read?" 

"Hard to find the time-" Your eyes suddenly widened. "Not that I'm not grateful for my job, it always comes first." 

"That is also what I wanted to talk to you about. You work very hard. Very well...but on call at all hours...I can't imagine you can find much time for a social life..." You scoffed. 

"Yeah...that's pretty nonexistent..." 

"There must be someone who knows how lucky they are to have your attention." You blushed as he was always a charmer. You'd watched him compel and act in chivalry but borderline flirtatious remarks enough times to know when it was to get something. And yet, you couldn't understand what he would want at this moment. 

"Surely someone at the office." 

"Everyone there is..." You paused, aware they were all tied closely to him by blood or friendship synonymous to that. 

"Rafe perhaps?" Your jaw clenched. 

"There isn't anyone...Mister Cameron, but I'm not sure it's an appropriate topic, anyhow...my raise..." 

"You deserve to be taken care of...You are passionate and kind. You are cunning and hardworking..." He moved closer to you, a finger pulling your hair behind your ear, "But very distracting..." 

Your eyes widened to his confession. 

"Distracting?" 

He nodded. "I know you don't mean to, but you make most of my employees...slothful..." You smirked at the idea. 

"Not sure that I can be responsible for thar, sor-" His jaw clenched. If your acquiesce wasn't enough, that sweet cadence, those doe eyes looking up to him hadn't caused his dick to become enraged with need, then that final title would send him to act. 

"I am going to take such good care of you, babygirl..." Your lips parted to speak before you felt him guide you to your knees. Your body alight as the ideas of what was about to transpire. 

"Mister Cameron." 

"I am going to let you in on a secret, my dear. Approximately five tomorrow night, my son is going to ask you on a date. But his intentions aren't what a girl like you deserves. You deserve more than, excuse my language, but the quick fuck, he intends to give you." He set his hand softly to your cheek. 

"And I can give give to you...But it is a single offer...and I am expecting you to keep those pretty lips shut. You are a very smart girl..." 

"What about Rose?" You asked nervously. 

"Do you want to discuss her right now?" He guided you over his lap, two fingers brushing hair away from your neck as your eyes fluttered closed to the trace of his breath to your skin. 

"Or do you want this?" 

"This..." You breathed quickly, his lips broadening into an approving smirk. 

" I was hoping you would accept my offer. But I want to make it clear. If this transpires, you will be expected to uphold silence and discretion...abstinence from all others...And in return...You will have all of me..." 

"Yes...please..." He set his hand to the back of your neck. 

"Then all you have to do is ask, sweetheart. However you want me to make you come...whenever...within reason, of course. From here on out, I am yours to command. But I am expecting the same." 

"Yes...sir..." His grip tightened. 

"I always adore how you call me that...but I want to hear you say my name when I make you come..." You were taken onto your back on the couch, turned until you were dependent on the arm of the chair, and your skirt lifted to reveal your panties. 

"That way I know you're mine. More than just an assistant. Mine." He removed your panties, teasing your lips with a brush of his fingers as he breathed in approval at your back. 

"I hope you are sure, sweetheart. Because once you are mine, I do not have any tolerance for sharing..." 

"Yours, Mister Cameron. I'm yours." You validated as he showed his agreeability by the fulfillment made of his cock within your desperate sex. His fingers wrapped through your own as he pinned both of your hands into the fabric, as he made a slow but steady climb to a lecherous rhythm. 

For what he may not have been able to withstand in stamina, he had more than made up for in the circulation of his fingers or words spoken to endorse you. His touch was as greedy as his cock, but his words were as caring as his kisses as they spread between your shoulders and onto your neck as your body ached to his convictions. 

"Please, Mister Cameron.." You breathed quickly, keeping your volume as quiet as possible in fear of anyone from rose to Wheezie having made their way home through the haze of your lust. 

"Rafe was going to try and make you his whore..." You turned back to face Ward as he pulled you to his chest as he remained in a bend along with you, only slightly higher. 

"You deserve to be adored..be my good girl..." 

"Fuck...." You breathed as the feeling of soft circles made to your clit had been reason enough to break your quietude. 

"You deserve to feel appreciated...not ravaged..." 

"I'm close!" 

"Are you?" He patronized as you gripped around his wrist. 

"Mister-" A hand came around your throat. 

"Are you coming?" You nodded violently, "Then call me what I've fucking earned by making you come-" 

"Ward!" You belted, the name feeling heavy in sin as it left your lips. It held the same effect on him as he found a release within you, your convulsions ensuring this, before you were turned to face him. 

"Noe, sweetheart..legalities aside...You need to understand one thing...You can live your youth...clubs and dates. But if you let alone else touch you...kiss you...and God help them, fuck you, then you have my promise that I'll not only ruin them...but you as well." You clenched your jaw before slowly nodding. 

"Because just as much as I defend, I am equally as ruthless." 

"I'm aware, Mister Cameron." 

"Good. Now let's finish this wine and work out the details. Because I have a few other wicked ideas I want to try out before you're due at work...and you still have to try and get some sleep..." He scoffed. "Not likely..." 

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @camilynn @sweetestdesire

[divinegrey]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐞 / 𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐧 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summoning my arcane girlies and gays we got some CAITLYN UP IN HERE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

prompt: Caitlyn with a sell sword that is a very bold flirt 👀 And Caitlyn is just a blushing mess but keeps trying to hide it [requested by my bestie u know who u are]

words: 1300

warnings: strap jokes, mel being sneaky, caitlyn being dommy mommy, innuendos, MORE innuendos

It isn’t every day that you get to work for the Kiramman’s, and it certainly isn’t every day that you get posted to watch the daughter of the Councilor, Caitlyn Kiramman. 

If you weren’t at a party, dressed to the nines with a rifle strapped to your back and gilded gun holster around your leg, you’d spit on the floor, just for the sake of it. 

But, as it is, you have to be respectful and make sure you aren’t interrupting the event being hosted by the Kiramman’s on their wealthy summer estate, just outside the main gates of Piltover and facing the ocean. It’s a nice place, a little large, but it’s nice. 

You focus on the event itself, scanning your eyes around the place. Your coterie of guns-for-hire were signed on to guard this event, and guarding is something you’re good at, especially when you’re assigned to watch one person. 

It’s only a bonus that Caitlyn is drop dead gorgeous in her blue silk dress, shoulders bare save for the thin straps of dark blue material. A gold necklace is settled around her collarbones, firm and rigid like plate armor. Her hair flows behind her back, pin straight, and you watch her tuck some of her hair behind her ear while conversing with Councilor Medarda in low tones. 

Interestingly enough, you notice Mel gesture in your direction, artfully disguising it with her champagne flute. Nothing escapes your gaze, however, and when Caitlyn glances over her shoulder toward you, you give her a wink paired with a slight upturn of your lips. 

Mel’s eyebrows raise at the flush that sinks over Caitlyn’s cheeks, and before you realize it, you’re being summoned with a crooked finger. 

Doing your duty, you peel yourself off the wall and walk over, pulling on the bottom of your black coat lined with gold; the standard uniform for classy events like this. You fold your arms behind your back as you approach, giving Councilor Medarda a respectful head tilt combined with a small bow. 

“This one has manners. I thought you liked them wild, Kiramman,” Councilor Medarda says as you realize her hand from a chaste kiss in greeting to her knuckles. 

“With all due respect, Councilor, I assure you my manners are only attached to my clothes,” you quip, delighting in the laugh that Councilor Medarda makes and the slight glare that Caitlyn gives you. Adding fuel to the fire, you add, “I can be wild when asked to be.” 

“Oh my!” Councilor Medarda fake fans herself, leaning over to the side, “Caitlyn, dear, do you mind if I take them once the event is over?” 

“This holster on my leg is multi-purpose,” you say, shifting your right leg forward to show them the sparkling clean leather harness strapped around your thigh, containing the six bullet chamber revolver nestled within. 

Caitlyn’s face is pure red, between the alcohol and the flush on her skin that goes down toward her chest. 

“Miss Kiramman, I can come back over once Councilor Medarda is done having her way with me,” you suggest helpfully, and that only serves to make steam come out of Caitlyn’s ears (metaphorically, of course). You watch Mel’s gleeful grin turn toothier with the smile that she gives the young Kiramman. 

Caitlyn slams back the rest of her champagne in one move, exposing the smooth planes of her long throat. You can’t help but think how pretty that skin would look with dark marks caused by your tongue and teeth. 

“Dance. Now.” Caitlyn’s command is sharp. 

“Of course, Miss Kiramman,” you reply, unable to hide the smug grin on your face. Turning your body slightly to the side, you say to the Councilor, “Rain check? I’m afraid my attention is required.” 

“I’ll be waiting, darling,” Councilor Medarda says, giving a squeeze to your cheeks that makes even you flush. 

You’re swept away by Caitlyn, her hand in yours as you’re brought to the dance floor just in time for another round of the waltz to start. Training kicks in, and you assume the proper dancing position, offering your hand for Caitlyn to take. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong, Miss Kiramman, but I’m pretty sure that dancing was not listed in my job description for tonight,” you say, your feet moving in time with Caitlyn’s, and you’re grateful that you’re taller than your average fellow, because Caitlyn is a goddess in her four inch heels that boost her height to the clouds. You’ve always had a thing for tall women, too. 

“Caitlyn, please. I had to make it clear that you’re still my hired guard,” Caitlyn says, looking down at you with a slight curve to her lips. “What would my mother think if she saw you flirting unabashedly with a Councilor? Slacking on the job so boldly?” 

“Then perhaps I should thank you for keeping me in line,” you reply, twisting Caitlyn into a very elegant dip. “Though you should be aware I’ve only ever had my eyes on you the entire night.” 

Caitlyn grips your arm, and you feel the rings on her hands digging into your skin. “I’ve noticed.” 

“Have you?” You bring Caitlyn upright, only for her to pull you close, her eyes smoldering. “Perhaps you’ve simply caught me in a trance, Caitlyn.”

You whisper her name an octave lower, catching the roughness in your throat. There’s a spark in Caitlyn’s eyes, an ember you could easily blow into a raging inferno, should you so choose. 

And who would you be if you didn’t take an opportunity?

“All you have to do is ask, Caitlyn,” you whisper toward her ear, surveying the room for any wandering eyes looking your way. You find a dozen, all observing with quite curiosity. Councilor Medarda is among them, mirth sparkling in her hazel eyes. “Ask, and I’m all yours.” 

That does it. 

“We’ll see how multi-purpose your holster is then, hm?” Caitlyn all but growls into your ear, shifting her leg forward to press between your own and you have to disguise the rush of pleasure that tingles up your skin. 

The two of you walk off the dance floor. You assume your guarding position, a pace behind Caitlyn as she leads the way. She dismisses anyone that even tries to talk to her, a determination set in her shoulders that you will say is very attractive. It sends heat down your back, and as you wind your ways through the halls of the Kiramman estate, you find yourself being pushed into a room. 

You barely manage to pull off your rifle, and you’ve only just started to pull at your jacket when Caitlyn raises her leg and pushes your stomach. You flop into a recliner, hazily taking in your surroundings; a sitting room of sorts, with a fireplace that is lit and lights hanging overhead. 

It makes Caitlyn look like a god, and you a mere worshipper. 

Caitlyn puts her leg in between your thighs, the slit of her dress paving way to show all of the smooth skin, and you swear you see the edge of lace panties underneath the dress. 

“For someone so keen on making their desire obvious, you’re not doing much to prove yourself,” Caitlyn remarks, leaning forward to grab your jaw. 

“There’s your problem, princess. I take instructions,” you reply, winking. 

Caitlyn makes a low sound from her throat, her eyes darkening with what you dare call lust. 

She pulls her leg away, straddling your lap. Her hand moves to your throat, not to squeeze, but to hold a certain pressure that clearly screams I have control here. And she does. 

“Then I order you to kiss me.” 

“Yes, Miss Kiramman,” you whisper, sliding your hands around her neck and pulling her down onto your mouth. 

~~~~~ A/N: i would sell my soul to the devil for the opportunity to shove my face into caitlyn's ti- [gunshot]

[obey-me-disaster]

Dreamlike Perspective

Summary: How were the twins see, before their fall, while they were still in the celestial realm? Especially through the eyes of their younger sister who they lost in the war?

A/N: This is my piece for the twins 2023 birthday ^-^

This will focus on how I think the twins were seen by others before the fall

Everything was a blur. Angels and demons alike were falling in battle. Anywhere, where one would look, there would be some kind of gruesome image. Angels having their wings ripped, demons getting impaled by a rain of spears and not far from the battle field the giant sea monster controlled by Leviathan could be heard. Amongst all the chaos and the bloodshed, one figure stood out from the rest.

 While he didn't attack that much, he acted as a shield for his comrades. Flying across the battlefield, he tried to redirect as many attacks as possible but the fights were spread far and wide, no matter how strong one would be, it was impossible to protect everyone. Despite all of that, every time he would appear, it was like the sun itself came down on earth, to bring hope and warmth to all lower angels.

 .......the scene somehow changed.....

  Everyone was celebrating. Unlike the scene on the battle field, she could make up the faces of the angels surrounding her. It didn't take long for her to realize that this celebration was for the battle that they have fought.

  "Have you heard that rumor, about Beelzebub?" Some angels were whispering among themselves. Their faces look weirdly familiar but she couldn't put a name on them. She wanted to ask more about it, but no sound came out of her mouth, so she just settled on listening to their conversation.

"The one about the possibility of him becoming a seraphin? I heard that Lucifer is the one that came with the proposal." Nodding enthusiastically, the angel that started the conversation took a sip of their drink. "I remember like it was yesterday, when he was still the clumsy angel that everyone would laugh at, all because he didn't know how to control his strength."

Starting to play with his champagne colored hair he continued. "Now he is the cherubim that guards the gates of the Celestial Realm. I sometimes miss when he was just my younger brother who would follow me around."

  "Lilith, what are you staring into space like that? Are you still shaken after the battle" A large hand rested on her shoulder. When she looked up she saw the subjects of everyone's discussion. "I'm fine because of you, don't worry." Smiling down on her, he proceeded to sit down next to her and get some food for himself.

  From then on, various scenes of her, Beelzebub and another angel would play out. Sneaking into the human world, playing pranks on other angels, fighting side by side, getting saved by him. Despite all of them being different, there was one thing in common, Beel's warm presence. Even the Celestial Realm's sun couldn't even hope to compete with him. Angels of different ranks loved and respected him, and how could they not? He was always there to act as a shield for everyone or to try and cheer them up on a bad day.

  She closed her eyes, wanting o bask in his warmth more. It was nice, to relax in one of the many forests of the Celestial Realm. She was about to fall asleep right then and there if she wasn't woken up by someone's voice

.

"Is me showing you different constellations that boring?" The scenery changed once again. No longer could she see the blue sky of the Celestial Realm. Instead, she was looking at a sky full of stars. "Earth to Lilith...are you ok? I get it if you're tired, we continue another day." This time it wasn't Beelzebub sitting next to her, but another angel. The more she looked at him, the more familiar he looked.

  "Belphie?" She wasn't too sure how she knew his name but it just seemed to come natural to her. He hummed in response, happy to see that his sister was at least responding. "That settles it. We should go back to Celestial Realm for now. You're starting to have worms for brain from how tired you are." Flashing her a grin he got, throwing one last glance at the stars.

  In comparison to her time spent with Beelzebub, she and Belphegor came to the human world way more often, especially during the night. He would often show her different constellations and tell different legends about them.

  If she was associating Beelzebub with the sun, then Belphegor was the moon. And she wasn't the only one who thought so. On the occasions where they wouldn't go star gazing, they would take walks through different human cities. Whispers about 'the weird human' could be heard every time they would take their walks. Humans would often whisper about how Belphegor would come with the rise of the moon and would leave before the sun could come up.

 Normally, that type of behavior would have been seen as completely strange but for some reason, humans couldn't help but let their guard down in his presence. Maybe it was just his angelic aura that he couldn't just get rid of, or it was the way he would treat others with kindness and curiosity.

  Different scenes started to flash before her eyes once again. Some were only with Belphegor, others were only with Beelzebub but one thing was sure. The ones were both of them were together felt the most complete.

  They were like night and day. One would not be able to exist without the other, yet something, or rather someone was missing. The more she thought about it, the fuzzier the details would become. Any and all memories of them started to gradually be lost.

It all felt too real to be a dream but it's not like she could do anything about it. Despite having these dreams every night, Lilith could still not figure out who those people were exactly, or why she would get tears in her eyes every time she would try to recall who they were. During her dreams, their face and voices would be clear, but the moment she woke up everything felt like a bygone memory.

Sighing she got out of bed and went on to get a change of clothes. Maybe one day, those strange "dreams" will make sense, until then all she could do is to live her life as a human until its very end.

[patheticprogrammingperson]

Hello there

It’s time for the Tintin book in which Professor Calculus produces an allegory for the nuclear bomb, directly after being anti-nuclear-bomb in the book directly prior.

Plot-line

We begin with Tintin and Haddock returning to Marlinspike from a walk, as a thunderstorm is brewing.

A man then barges in, introduces himself as Jolyon Wagg, of Rock Bottom Insurance, makes a misogynistic comment, and demands alcohol.

After a few things with some shots, and a vanishing shooting victim, we have a sudden spate of spontaneously breaking glass, which attracts quite the crowd, because apparently glass spontaneously breaking is worth camping outside a gate for.

So, taking the genuinely logical path, Tintin and Haddock go to check out Calculus’s laboratory in the grounds, where they find large conical apparatuses, and a man in a trench-coat, mask, and hat, bursting out from a side room.

A bit of detective work later, they head off to Geneva, following Calculus, because the man had the name of the hotel Calculus regularly stays at written on a packet of cigarettes, which got pulled from coat guy’s pocket by Snowy.

After very narrowly missing Calculus, Tintin works out where he’s going from a combination of a phone number and some train schedules, then promptly fall into a lake via taxi, with the kind assistance of some trench-coated individuals.

Anyway, they get to the house that Calculus was going to, finding his umbrella, but no Calculus.

Looking around the house, they find a book titled "German Research in World War II", which contains an image of an apparatus resembling the one that was in Calculus's lab.

After some complications, the house explodes, and Tintin&Co are sent to hospital, but are discharged next morning, and they plan to go and spy on the Bordurian embassy, as they have established that the individuals in trench-coats are Bordurian spies, who have kidnapped Calculus for the sound-based weapon he has developed.

Getting there, they see Calculus being loaded into a helicopter, but here come the Syldavia, who save Calculus, but then immediately also kidnap him, because who cares about historical sceptre rescues?

Tintin and Haddock steal the Bordurian helicopter and peruse for some time, as Calculas is transported by boat, then by car, until they hole the helicopter's fuel tank with a bullet, forcing them down.

After some difficulty, and Haddock getting run over, they peruse by hitch-hike, horrifically injure some road-workers, majorly disrupt market-day, until they catch up, where the car's driver bluffs his way out.

Calculus gets flown out in a light aircraft, but that gets forced down by Bordurian fightercraft, so Tintin & Haddock fly to Szohôd, the Bordurian capital.

After a spot of bother with a piece of sticking-plaster on the flight over, they land, and are immediately cornered by Bordurian officials, who arrange hotel rooms and "translators" for them.

They promptly get their secret police escort drunk on around four bottles of champagne, two to the person, and lock them in their hotel rooms.

They escape onto the streets, and hide at an opera, Charles Gounod's Faust to be precise, as far as I could tell, where they just happen to come across Bianca Castafiore, who helps hide them, until in comes the Chief of Police, so they hide in the wardrobe, spy on the chief of police, who explains/confesses the following to some random opera singer he has no reason to trust:

They had illegally abducted a foreign scientist in order to steal his intellectual property

He is being held at the Fortress of Bakhin

If he gives up said intellectual property the next day, then he will be released into the hands of two representatives of the International Red Cross

The required documents for that are in his coat, which just got placed in that wardrobe

So of course Tintin steals them, and the next day they steal Calculus, then a tank, then return home, and that's it, story's all nicely wrapped up

Now, you may have found that slightly hard to parse, but this is an espionage plot, and as such is rather complex, and hard to summarise, so just go read the book yourself.

Characters

So, we have that problem again, where there's not that many new characters, and those that there are have very little about them.

Our villains are more faceless governments than specific individuals, the Chief of Police is portrayed as an idiot, but I'm not quite sure if that was intentional.

Of course, there's Jolyon Wagg, but he is one of the most hateable characters in media, and as such, I shall not waste words describing him any further.

Things I like

I find this segment rather hard to write, not because there's nothing to praise, but there's too much

So, I shall pick things haphazardly, with no logical progression.

The visuals, there is a staggering ammount of detail in almost every panel, from the Swiss countryside, to the Bordurian cityscape, it all looks so good.

The humour, for a "darker" Tintin, it's got surprisingly good humour, for example, the comedic timing on P38 is impeccable.

Things I don't

You know the drill, it's time for petty nitpicks!

Apparently, randomly breaking glass is worth large groups of people camping outside gates, in addition to headline news coverage, including international

Haddock launches himself through the air by pushing "rather hard" on a revolving door

Tintin & Haddock survive a bomb, and being crushed by fallen bits of house

Two campers sleep through their tent being abducted by helicopter

Haddock is run over, and survives without any injury

Troublesome bits

You know the drill, I didn’t find anything, maybe you did, if you do, tell me.

There is that misogynistic comment that Wagg makes, but it’s portrayed quite clearly in a negative light.

Silly bits

Haddock is teleported into a chandelier by lighting striking a telephone wire

Wagg offers to supply Haddock with insurance against insurance agents

Arturo Benedetto Giovanni Giuseppe Pietro Arcangelo Alfredo Cartoffoli da Milano flings wet tar onto road-workers via reckless driving

Conclusion

I think I've said this before, but this is the best Tintin book, go read

[umichenginabroad]

Ciao Italia!

After a 10 hour flight, 3 hour layover, and another 2 hour flight, I finally made it to Italy!

Since I just arrived, I haven't done anything yet but the experience of preparing for this trip and getting to Italy has taught me a lot and so I thought I would share some tips for those who are preparing for a study abroad program or traveling in general!

Tip #1: Use packing cubes / bags

Whether it's packing cubes from Amazon or zip-up bags, I highly recommend using these to pack your clothes! I put all of my clothes in zip-up bags and was able to fit everything in my carry on and add a couple of other things. For context, my clothes consist of 8 dresses, 10 tops, 3 button downs, 5 pants, 10 pairs of socks, 10 undergarments, and 1 swim suit. With most of my things fitting in my carryon, my checked-in luggage was practically empty (only one side was really filled).

Tip #2: Monitor currency conversions

I ordered euros through my bank before I left and found out after that the conversion between USD and euros change frequently. While the change is small (i.e one day 1 euro = 1.15 USD, another day 1 euro = 1.05 USD), if you're ordering a lot of euros, this can add up. To save money, I recommend monitoring the currencies for a couple of days before actually ordering them.

Tip #3: If you have an international layover, give yourself time

Seeing how domestic layovers are essentially just leaving one gate and walking over to the new gate (without needing to go through security again), when I found out I had a 3 hour layover in Paris, I was a bit annoyed as I would just be sitting at an airport for 3 hours. As it turned out however, I had to walk all over the airport to get to my next gate (I'm not kidding when I say I had to walk all over the airport ... there were signs for my new gate that had me turning left and right multiple times and going up and down many floors), go through security again, and go through customs. When I finished everything, I had to wait for ~1 hour for my next flight which wasn't bad!

Tip #4: If you have the chance, take a flight with Air France

Not only were the staff incredibly nice, but the food was delicious! For my first 10 hour flight, they served dinner and breakfast. Dinner consisted of wheat berry salad, pasta or chicken and rice (with some berry sauce), cheese, bread, and a banana / chocolate marble cake. For those of you who are of age, they even served alcohol for free! Air France offered champagne (poured into a mini plastic champagne glass), mini wine bottles, and beer. Breakfast consisted of a warm cheese croissant, fruit, milk, orange juice, and bread. For my 2 hour flight, they served ham or vegetable sandwiches as snacks (very different and yummy in comparison to the typical pretzels).

Those are all of the tips that I can think of for now but as I start my program, if there's anything else that comes up, I'll be sure to talk about it!

That's it for this post ... stay tuned for the next post where I'll talk about everything that happened within the first week of my stay :)

Sabrina Huynh

Materials Science and Engineering

Engineering in Rome, Italy

[twotexansituscany2023]

Day Two – Saturday, March 25:

We arrived at Heathrow at our gate at 7:15 a.m. after a 9 hour flight and still had over 1 ½ hours to make our connection.  That was until the deboarding was delayed because the pilot and ground crew could not get the engines to turn off. That took another 20 minutes. 

Then, we had to bus from Terminal 3 to Terminal 5.  I knew it was a bad sign when I saw a bus, heading in the opposite direction, that had our flight number on the marque of the bus.  We arrived at Terminal 3 and were running to check in. They said the flight wouldn’t close the doors until 20 minutes before departure.  Despite that claim and arriving at security at 8:10 a.m., security said we didn’t have enough time to get through security and to our flight gate.  We were officially bumped from that flight.

There was a 1:30 p.m. flight leaving for Bologna, but there were no remaining seats on the flight.  That meant, we were booked on the 6:30 p.m. flight and we were going to have an over 10 hour layover at Heathrow.

Why was this important?  On Wednesday, March 23, I was able to secure a dinner reservation for Laura and I at Osteria Francescana in Modena.  This is a Michelin 3 star restaurant and, in the last 5 years, was rated the #1 restaurant in the world.  The chef is Massimo Bottura and he appeared on Season 1, Episode 1 of the acclaimed Chef’s Table series on Netflix.  That dream meal came crashing down because of American Airlines.  I called the restaurant and they were incredibly understanding and, thankfully, didn’t charge us a cancellation fee.  Most people have to make a reservation a year in advance.  We did make someone else’s dream night – 2 people on the waiting list at the restaurant.

Despite a 4 hour delay for AA (“American Airlines”) when we called their “customer service” number, Laura got on the AA website and got a response on their chat line.  The AA representative assured us that she was able to secure 2 seats on the 1:30 p.m. departure in business class and that we were confirmed.

This gave us a brief moment of sunshine.  We called the restaurant, but they had already booked a replacement.  So, that was out.

Regardless, we hope to get to Bologna around 4:30 p.m. and it was going  to cut 5 hours from our 10 hour layover.  Alas, AA lied again.

When we got to the gate, we were informed that, in fact, we didn’t have seats on this full flight.  The BA (“British Airways”) representative said AA frequently says one thing (AA even updated our boarding information to the 1:30 p.m. flight on our AA app) and fails to finish the booking in the BA system.  We went back to the BA executive lounge for another 5 hours.

Even if we would have gotten on the 1:30 p.m. flight, it was ultimately delayed for 2 hours, so we wouldn’t have made our dinner reservation regardless of the flight times.

We finally arrived at the Bologna airport at 9:45 p.m.  The BA flight crew could not have been more understanding. They even gave Laura and I a bottle of champagne as a consolation prize for our horrible travel day.  I was able to watch game 2 of the Ark vs. LSU baseball game on the Bologna flight and watch LSU completely destroy the Razorbacks. That was a small consolation.

After getting our rental car, we arrived at Hotel Internazionale Bologna at 11 p.m. Laura was hungry, so we walked down the street for a quick slice of pizza.  Did I mention that Europe Daylight Savings Time started on Sunday, March 26?  We were losing an hour of much needed sleep on the night of Saturday, March 25.

As I got in bed, I remembered that the LSU baseball game 3 was starting at 1 a.m. that Saturday night/Sunday morning.  For some reason, I couldn’t sleep and watched 1 inning before finally falling asleep.

Ciao.

[captainmartinisblog]

Two Gins Curtis & Fathers’ Day in Lisbon

Sunday 19th June 2022

Andrew slept badly; I slept well, until rudely wakened by the alarm at 4am! What with it being a travel day full of unknowns, it was inevitable that we would take turns being in a tetchy mood.

Check-in at 5am was much busier than in April but Club World ‘Fast Track’ was quick and smooth – until Angie fell foul of extra scrutiny going through Security, which put paid to 40 minutes! Low staff numbers there may be but this is no time for passenger mistakes, nor for opportunists trying their luck!

It was a bumpy flight too but it was an English Breakfast for me and excellent service from steward ‘Two Gins Curtis’; much better than on our Barcelona flight in April. Our 2.5hr flight to Lisbon seemed a lot smoother after two G&Ts!

When we landed in Lisbon, all the gates were occupied and we taxied all around the back of the airport, disembarking ‘old style’ and being bussed back to the terminal. It did not bode well. British Airways had warned us to expect long queues at Immigration in Lisbon but for those with biometric passports, it was a doddle. So was our transfer – a private taxi, no less.

But then it all went wrong. Given that our flight (arranged by Azamara) was so early and boarding not until somewhat later, we had expected to be taken on a ‘time-filling’ tour of some kind, delivering us at the Terminal at the desired check-in time. Today however, we were taken directly to the Terminal and dropped there around midday, where we were told that they would take our bags but we could not go inside or check-in for at least another hour. There were no chairs, no facilities, nothing; we were just told “Go away and come back later”. You can imagine how we and a number of other guests reacted to that!

Andrew & Angie sat on the wall in the car park while I went for a walk.

The badly designed and even more poorly utilised - Lisbon Cruise Terminal is at the foot of the historic Alfama District, the ‘old city’ with the Castle of St George at the top.

I didn’t make it that far – it would have been too much of a hike but I made it beyond the Cathedral as far as the Mirador overlooking Saga Cruises’ Spirit of Adventure and our ship, the much smaller Azamara Quest.

I returning to the others nearly an hour later but now they said check-in still didn’t begin for at least another half hour and even then the whole thing degenerated into a shambles. No-one asked for or checked the covid tests we had been asked to get beforehand and many of the suite guests (including Andrew & me) were ‘forgotten about’.

Then it rained outside and someone decided that passengers mustn’t get wet. So there was another delay – indoors this time, thankfully. Goodness knows what would have happened if this had occurred two hours earlier when everyone was outside in the car park!

Oddly enough, the last time we boarded a ship in Lisbon was Crystal Harmony with my Dad in 1997 and it was pouring with rain then too! Sadly, my Dad is no longer with us but it is perhaps fitting that it is Fathers’ Day today because this was actually the first cruise we booked after I had finally settled all his affairs and Estate. So “Cheers to you, Dad; we love you and we all greatly miss you!”

We eventually boarded around 3pm – very fractious. Only the Champagne, mixed fruit plate and cheese platter awaiting us in our lovely suite would later save the day!

Azamara Quest departed Lisbon at 5pm and as we made our way under the great 25th April Bridge, with the Statue of Christ The King on the southern bank of the Tagus River, we had the promise of rough seas in the Atlantic throughout the night, with swells reaching 4m – and our first dinner yet to be experienced!

[glittercake]

drabble | 1k | based on What If: Zombies Ep; Gore I guess; Zombie husbands; Bucky went all midnight train to Georgia in this; Happy ending (?!).

"No!" Shouts Bucky before Okoye's spear makes contact with Sam's head. He holds his hand up to ward Sam off, "Wait!"

Sam's head tilts sideways with something like recognition. He sways forward.

Bucky guesses it's not Sam anymore. He has known that since their jet went down on what's left of the Golden Gate Bridge. Sam could have survived; God knows he could have. His wings would have saved him. But Bucky knows he'd never have left Steve and the others, knows he'd have fought on the ground with them until the last moment.

But god damn him if he sees anyone else than Sam Wilson standing before him now, even if his eyes are glazed and lifeless where they once were alive and beautifully bright. All he sees is his Sam.

And maybe that's the worst part of it all. He thought he'd made peace with Sam's death, thought he'd accepted that the man he loved had succumbed to the fatal virus.

He's not so sure anymore.

Sam growls, gurgling and wet, lip curling up with hunger now that Bucky is in his deadly sights. He's been torn apart; his left arm ripped off, a chunk missing from his ribs. Bucky knows he must have still been alive for that, and it makes his heart lurch furiously in his chest with an ever-familiar need to protect Sam and make it better.

Okoye has halted behind him, waiting for his go-ahead to end it once and for all. Her spear is raised, and he can hear her heart thudding in her chest as she watches.

He looks back at Sam, "Hey, sweetheart," he says softly, his left hand hesitantly extended between them. There was a time he could just reach out and touch, pull Sam close to him, "Hey, remember me? It's me, honey. It's Bucky."

"James," Okoye warns shakily. Her fists curl around the spear, her feet inching closer to Sam, "What are you doing?"

Sam flings around so that he has both of them in his line of sight now. His pale eyes flit quickly between them but ultimately lands back on Bucky.

Bucky swallows down the lump in his throat. He'd give anything for one last kiss, to hold Sam one last time, to say goodbye and mean it this time. He was naïve enough to think they'd solve this like they do anything, and Sam would come home like he did after any other mission. Perhaps a little bruised, maybe a few broken bones. But he'd been dead wrong.

"Yeah, you do, huh? You remember me," He says again, voice giving a broken crack, "Remember you loved me? Remember I asked you to marry me—" his emotions betray him, and with a violent wobble of his chin, he sobs. Sam twitches and grunts softly, baring his teeth, "It's okay, Sammy. Shh, it's okay."

"James, we need to end this. Now!"

Bucky shakes his head, "You gotta go, mhlobo wam. Get out of here."

"James!"

"I can't leave him, Okoye. Go, get out of here. I've lost enough friends already." With that, he moves so that Sam's sights are on him, and she's got a clear shot at the doorway.

"Damn you, James," she says tearful before slowly creeping toward the exit. Behind them, there's a roaring horde coming toward the lobby they're standing in. She'll have no choice but to run now.

"I've heard that before." He smiles, saluting her, and she returns the gesture before letting out a disgruntled groan and making a run for it.

Sam grunts, sneering again; his breathing is rough and labored, his skin so pale despite the streaks of sun beaming in through Grand Central's windows.

"It's just you and me now, honey," he placates an increasingly ravenous Sam, "It's okay. I'm not leaving you. Okay?"

Sam stumbles closer, and Bucky would startle, but it's Sam. He should be scared, too, should be running for his life. But it's Sam, and for so much of his newfound life, he had been running toward Sam, running after him, running for his life with Sam.

He'd be damned if he ran away now.

Sam shuffles closer once more, enough for Bucky to smell the decay. Around them, the lifeless horde comes closer and closer, smelling Bucky's fresh blood and drooling with hunger for it, snapping teeth and gurgling groans. His heart pounds behind his ribs, his hands begin to tremble, knowing it's the end now.

And then, before they get to him and in one swift motion, Sam swoops him up and flies toward the ceiling with him.

Sam's arm is around his waist, he's got Bucky pulled close to his body, same as when Sam gave him an airlift on missions. Bucky has instinctively grabbed onto Sam's shoulders for purchase, and he brings his hand up to touch Sam's face.

Fresh tears streak down his cheeks, but he smiles, "You know me," he says but gets no response. He strokes the bloody apple of Sam's cheek, "You do. I ain't leaving you, sweetheart."

Sam growls again, flies him backward and against a wall. The bricks crumble behind Bucky's back, and a soft, terrified, but somehow relieved gasp escapes him.

Sam leans his forehead against Bucky's. His skin is cold and clammy, and up close, the lifelessness behind his eyes is even more devastating, so Bucky closes his eyes and just holds on.

"It's okay," he says again, and then Sam ducks his head, and the motion is so familiar: Sam burying his face in Bucky's neck, mouth open against his skin, he loved doing it, he'd nose up Bucky's neck for no good reason on any random day, and kiss the pulsing vein there.

He does it now too.

Bucky sobs, gasping tired and wetly and whispers Sam's name, but it's drowned out by a guttural and rumbling growl from Sam before he sinks his teeth into Bucky's neck.

The pain is searing and brutal, and instantly he feels an uncomfortable rush like champagne bubbling through his blood. They said it's quick, said it's so fast you don't realize. That one moment you're here, and the next you're gone.

And it's half true. He guesses the serum trips the strain up a bit. He's in pain all over, his limbs are heavy and burning, and his head pounds when Sam rips away from his neck to look at him, his mouth red with Bucky's blood.

Bucky starts shaking in Sam's arms, but Sam holds on, grips him tighter, and as Bucky's eyes fall shut, he sees Sam staring down at him, head tilting sideways, and from his lips, a soft whisper falls, "Buck—" before everything goes black.

_____

They say if you watch the night sky carefully, you'll see the red glow of Sam's jetpack, and, if you look really close, you'll see Bucky in his arm as they roam the starry heavens together.

They say that Sam takes Bucky up to the Empire State Building every afternoon, where they watch the sunset together.

They say it's impossible, that the undead simply doesn't function like that. That they wouldn't know what love is anymore, that they're only mindless and hungry and waiting for their next meal.

But Peter's seen it. He's seen them on the very tip of the tallest buildings, hand in hand. Forever together.

[agustdakasuga]

Between the Bloodshed | Chapter 13

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

It’s finally time to head to Florida. Your aim is to relax by the beach, forget whatever happened in Korea and reset your brain. The boys also have some important things to tell you. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

“Yes, omma. I’ll be home in time for oppa’s arrival.” You sighed, standing by your window as you spoke to your mother. You were leaving for Florida tonight but she seemed more worried that you wouldn’t be around when your brother and heavily pregnant sister in law arrived. 

“I’m not a gynaecologist. The only thing I’ll do is look after Jisung.” Your nephew was the only one you could tolerate.

“Bye, omma.” You cut her off, hanging up. You planned to turn off your phone while you travelled as well. Someone cleared their throat from behind you and you jumped slightly, turning around. 

“Busy?” Namjoon asked. 

“Yes- Wait, I mean, no. What’s up?” You forced a smile, tucking your phone into the pocket of your lab coat. 

“You said you have a list of medical supplies that you wanted to order?” He reminded. You facepalmed, forgetting to print the list out to pass to Namjoon last night. 

“Hang on a sec, I’ll print it out.” You sat at your desk, going on your computer. Namjoon just patiently sat opposite you. You retrieved your document that you typed out a few days ago and clicked on the print button. The button whirled to life, starting to feed the document out. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you waited for it. 

“Family stress?” Namjoon chuckled. 

“You already know... Her star child is coming home and her second grandchild is about to be born soon. She’s ecstatic.” You scoff. 

“I hope you enjoy this break then. Before you have to deal with all the bullsh*t when we get back.” Namjoon smiled, his dimple popping through. He was so genuine, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thanks, Joon. I think we all need a break.” You handed him the paper. 

“Right. When do you need these?” He waved the paper in the air. You shrugged, a sign that it wasn’t important. 

“Alright. Make sure you packed everything.” Namjoon ruffled your hair before leaving. You turned around in your chair, putting your feet on top of the desk, something your mother always scolded you for. 

“(y/n)!” Your door burst open, hitting the adjacent door with a loud sound. You jumped to your feet immediately. 

“What-” You yelped when Jimin grabbed your waist, clearly using you as his human shield. You blinked in confusion, until Taehyung and Hoseok ran in with water guns in your hands, cackling. Your eyes widened as the nozzles were somehow pointing at you now. 

“YAH! I DARE YOU!” You threatened. 

“Save me!” Jimin said between giggles. You slapped his hands away from your hips, making him whimper. 

“What are you guys doing?” Jungkook stopped by the door, blinking. At the maknae’s presence, Hoseok and Taehyung turned to face their guns at him. Jungkook jumped with a yelp, ducking behind the wall. 

“Let’s go.” Jimin whispered, sliding open the glass door that led to the garden from your office. 

“What about Jung-”

“Forget him. We need to save ourselves.” Jimin grabbed your hand, seeing the two still aiming at Jungkook. With a tug, he pulled you out with him, escaping Taehyung and Hoseok. From behind you, you heard a loud scream that most probably came from Hoseok. All you could say was, that’s what you get for going against Jungkook. 

“Park Jimin!” You heard Taehyung screech. 

“Run!” Jimin abandoned you, running away in a different direction. Your eyes widened, obviously you threatening Taehyung wasn’t going to work. 

“YOONGLES!” Your eyes caught sight of the pale man, walking back into the house, a book tucked under his arm. Yoongi turned around just to see you running towards him. 

“HELP!” You ducked behind him. 

“What?!” He hissed, dropping the book and taking his gun out from his holster, aiming at whoever was after you. When Taehyung ran over, he froze. 

“H-Hey hyung, we’re just playing. No need to get all serious.” Taehyung stepped back when he saw the pistol in Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi sighed, lowering his gun to put it back into the holster. He turned around, looking at you. 

“In my opinion, I was doing my work when they came and threatened me. I was in real danger.” You shrugged. 

“Yah, leave her alone. She’s working.” Yoongi scolded Taehyung. Taehyung pouted, lowering his water gun. No way would any of them dare to shoot Yoongi, unless they had a death sentence. He ran off to chase Jimin instead. Yoongi shook his head, picking his book up from the ground. 

“Thanks, Yoonie!” You saluted with a grin. 

“As thank you, I’m going to eat your last slice of cheesecake in the fridge.” He said, walking back into the house. Your jaw dropped slightly. 

“B-But... That’s mine! You can’t take it! Min Yoongi! Don’t you dare touch my cheesecake!” You chased after him. Yoongi just smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly. 

The rest of the day was quiet until it was time to leave. You were waiting in the living room, playing with Kookie. 

“I wish you could come with us, Kookie.” You rubbed his ears. Behind you, the boys were all scrambling for last minute items that they forgot to pack. 

“What are we going to do with them, huh?” You held Kookie up, adjusting him in your lap. You yawned, waiting for the chaos to be over. There was Namjoon tripping over Jungkook’s luggage, Yoongi and Jungkook squabbling over underwear, Jin just packing everything but the kitchen sink with Taehyung stopping him and Hoseok scolding Jimin for making a mess. 

“Uh, young masters... The cars are ready when you’re ready to leave.” The butler spoke. 

“I’m ready to leave.” You stood up. The maids brought your bags out to the awaiting cars. You kissed Kookie goodbye before handing him to the butler who would be caring for him in your absence. 

“Take care of him.” You smiled. 

“I will, agashi. Don’t worry.” He bowed his head. You nodded and headed out to the vans. The driver opened the door for you to enter. 

“Think you could leave without us?” Hoseok opened the door with a grin, entering to seat behind you. 

“You guys take way too long.” You scoffed, looking out the window. Namjoon climbs into the other back seat while Yoongi takes the seat beside you in the second row. From your tinted window, you see Taehyung and Jimin climbing into one van while Jungkook and Jin climb into the other. 

“I can’t wait to get on the plane to sleep.” Hoseok stretched his arms with a loud yawn. You nodded in agreement, pulling your hoodie up. The vans pulled up to the VIP entrance of Incheon airport. 

“Right this way, young masters.” The doors opened for you and suited males grabbed your suitcases for you. 

“Stay close.” Jin said, making you grab his arm to avoid straying away from him. 

“Let’s check in.” Namjoon rounded everyone up, giving their passports to the lady, along with yours. You all verified your names and the tickets were issued. From the looks of it, you would all be flying first class. 

“I can’t afford first class. I’ll sit in coach.” You crossed your arms. 

“As if we would let you sit in coach. You may be stubborn doc but you haven’t seen all 7 of us at once.” Jimin challenged. You rolled your eyes, receiving your passport back with your ticket tucked in. When all the luggages were checked in, one of the managers escorted the 8 of you to the private lounge to wait. There were only 5 other people in there, minding their own business. 

“I’m hungry!” Jungkook declared, pulling you up with him to head to the buffet table. You sighed but let yourself be dragged away. 

“Koo, don’t get indigestion.” You told him as you held a plate for him to pile food on. On his dessert plate, you grabbed one of his mini cream puffs, placing it into your mouth. 

“Hey! Get your own!” Jungkook pouted. 

“Then hold your own plate, Jeon Jungkook.” You glared. After he was done, you placed his plates on his table. 

“You didn’t get any for yourself?” Taehyung asked. 

“I was merely a plate holder.” You scoffed. Taehyung laughed, following you back out to get some snacks for yourself. You only took some fruits and water, planes making you feel bloated if you ate too much. 

“Thanks, Tae.” You said, sitting back down. You ate some from the plate in your lap until Jimin leaned over with his mouth open, wanting a piece. 

“Here.” You fed him a halved strawberry. Yoongi was comfortably settled in his seat, enjoying a short nap. Jungkook went for a second round of food, this time bringing Hoseok along with him. Namjoon had his iPad perched on his lap, typing away with a small frown on his face. 

“Frowning is going to get you wrinkles, Joon.” You chuckled, reaching across to give him a piece of watermelon. He shot you a grateful smile before closing his iPad to eat what you offered.

“We should head to the gate.” Jin rounded everyone up. Jungkook stuffed whatever food he could into his mouth before walking with you. 

“Don’t choke. Chew slowly, you big baby.” You patted his back, urging him to chew slowly. 

“Welcome aboard.” The crew greeted you at the door, the flight manager escorted you to the first class cabin. You settled in your comfy seat, realising that Namjoon sat on the other side of the partition. 

“Seat buddy.” You grinned, shooting finger guns at him. He chuckled, shaking his head as the flight attendant placed a champagne flute before him. 

“Mr Kim, we have made sure that you have the entire first class cabin, as per your request. So please be assured that there is optimum privacy for you and your family to roam when the seat belt sign is off.” The manager told Jin, who nodded his head in approval. The flight attendants handed out pre-flight drinks and the menu. 

“You guys can’t be serious. Booking the whole first class cabin?” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s for privacy, doc.” Namjoon said, flipping through his newspaper. Once the safety demo was done by the flight attendants, the plane took off. You had your headphones on, playing music as you read your book. 

“Are you just going to read?” Jimin asked. You nodded your head and he pouted, sighing in annoyance. 

“I’m gonna sleep too.” You added. 

PING!

The seatbelt sign turned off. Yoongi had the flight attendant turn his seat into a bed, his figure curled under the blanket, ready to sleep. Hoseok was watching a show on his iPad while Jin was snacking. 

“Yah, don’t disturb him.” You chided Taehyung and Jimin, who were trying to disturb a sleeping Jungkook. He hadn’t even lowered his seat, still in an upright position with his neck  tilted down. That was gonna cause some pain when he woke up. 

“Let me lower his seat.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, heading over and pressing the button so he would be in a more comfortable position. 

“You’re starting to baby him.” Taehyung clicked his tongue. 

“I baby Yoongles too, he just pretends to hate it.” You shrugged, adjusting Jungkook’s blanket and fluffing the pillow under his head. Jungkook remained asleep, even when you moved his head. 

“Boring.” Jimin took his switch out, challenging Taehyung in a game. You just turned back to your book. 

“Never thought I’d see the day. You, the fierce doctor, admitting that you care and baby the boys.” Namjoon chuckled from beside you, neatly folding his newspapers and setting it aside. 

“Jungkook’s the youngest and Yoongi can only use one arm. I’m not that heartless, Joon.” You scoffed. Namjoon held his hands up in defence and you rolled your eyes. Taking out your laptop, you began to type out notes that you made from reading your book. You were learning more efficient ways to stabilise fatal injuries such as stabbings or gunshot wounds. 

“Take a break, doc. Stop learning how to kill us.” Hoseok joked. 

“I don’t need to learn what I already know.” You spoke, not looking up from your screen as you typed. 

“Oh doc, you’re just so comical.” Jin chuckled. 

“I try my best.” You raised your eyebrows. Soon, the flight attendants came around to give out menus for the inflight meals. You hummed as you flipped through the selection. 

“What do you fancy?” Namjoon asked. 

“Salad and soup.” You shrugged. Meanwhile, the boys were ordering their steaks and pasta, filling up until they were full and satisfied. 

“The appetite you guys have never fail to amuse me.” You snorted. Yoongi, who was picking and tearing his butter roll, nodded in agreement. You didn’t need to eat much, watching the boys eat their hefty portions was enough to make you feel full.

“Did I miss lunch?!” Jungkook exclaimed. 

“Right on time. We just finished up.” Taehyung chuckled, wiping his mouth with the napkin. While the flight attendants served desserts, Jungkook ordered his huge main course. 

“Can I have some sparkling water?” You ordered after finishing your fruit plate. The flight attendant gave you a weird look but Namjoon cleared his throat, making her jump and scurry off to fulfil your water. 

“You know, ordering something without intimidation would be nice to try for once.” You scoffed. 

“You deserve to be waited on, doc. Not be given attitude from the likes of people like her.” Namjoon sipped his wine. Yoongi, who had a glass of whiskey, nodded in agreement. You sighed as the flight attendant placed the glass of sparkling water down on your side table. She bowed her head to you, keeping her head down before leaving. 

-

“Young masters, agashi. Welcome.” The entire staff lined up before the huge beach house, bowing as you all stepped out of the vans. 

“Get the bags. I hope doc’s room has been prepared like we instructed.” Namjoon ordered and they bowed, rushing to unload all the bags and bring them in. You followed the boys in, carrying your airplane bag with you. 

“Agashi, allow me to show you your room.” A maid bowed and you gave a backwards wave to the boys, following her up. Your room had a balcony facing the sea. 

“It’s beautiful.” You noted. 

“If there is anything, please do not hesitate to let me know. The other members of staff will be up with your belongings shortly.” She bowed. 

“Thank you.” You smiled. She looked a little shocked. 

“I-It’s no problem, agashi. Have a nice rest.” She bowed again before leaving. Once the door closed, you threw your bag aside, falling back onto the comfy bed. You let out a sigh of bliss, staring at the ceiling. Standing up, you headed to the small balcony attached to your room. 

“(y/n)!” Jimin poked his head out from his room window to wave at you. You chuckled, sending a small wave back. 

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You turned around to see two butlers with your bags. 

“Thank you. You can set them over here.” You directed them. After stacking your bags neatly, they bowed and left you alone. You took your time to unpack your things into the cupboards and closet provided. 

“(y/n)! Let’s go swimming!” The youngest 3 burst into your room, the door slamming into the adjacent wall loudly. 

“Yah, you guys need to learn how to knock.” You scolded. 

“Come on!” 

“Guys, we just got here. Let me unpack and RELAX!” You shoved all 3 of them out of your room, slamming the door shut and locking it. You sighed, shaking your head at their protests. Humming, you continued to unpack your things at your own pace. After you were done, you looked out the window and saw the boys playing in the water, splashing around. 

‘I’m outside your door. - Yoongi’

Your phone buzzed. You frowned in confusion at the sudden text, going to open your room door. Yoongi stood there, in black board shorts and a black linen shirt. The first two buttons were undone, revealing his pale skin. 

“Not a fan of the sun, Mr Cullen?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m just here to bring you to the beach.” He sighed. You nodded, going into the bathroom to change into some lighter clothes. 

“Let’s go!” You hooked arms with him. As usual, Yoongi didn’t pull away from you. You walked out the doors and down the back porch, revealing the big beach area.

“Woah.” 

“Don’t worry about the public, this is our private beach.” Jin walked over with a plate of sandwiches. 

“I was never worried about the public but thanks.” You picked up a sandwich, going to sit on one of the lawn chairs. Yoongi took the seat beside you, leaning back with a glass of wine in his hand. With a wave of his hand, the butler offered you a glass as well, placing it on the tiny table. 

“Aren’t you going to swim?” You asked Yoongi. 

“Don’t like the water.” He scoffed. Those that were playing in the water ran up towards you and Yoongi, who didn’t even notice. Suddenly, you yelped as you were being hoisted in the air. 

“Taehyung!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled, running towards the ocean. 

“And I can’t believe you let them rope you into this, Namjoon!” You hissed. The leader just shrugged, crossing his arms as he watched in amusement.

“Kim Taehyung, if you drop me into this water, I’ll make sure you regret it.” You threatened. Jungkook and Jimin waved their hands, encouraging their brother to just dunk you. 

“You know I stay true to my words!” You screamed as a final resort. 

“I’ll save you!” Hoseok ran over with a super soaker water gun. Taehyung jumped in shock, letting go of you. 

“Tae-” You fell into the water. You stood up, entire being wet. Even with the water to your hips, your glare was scary enough to send the boys running to shore. You ran after them while they scattered away. But of course, them being mafiosos, they were able to escape quickly. You couldn’t chase after them so you went for the next best thing.

“Yoongles!” You laid over Yoongi. 

“Yah!” Yoongi cringed as you wet his clothes with your own damp ones. You grinned at him. 

“This is gonna be a fun vacation, isn’t it Yoonie?” You said sweetly, making Yoongi groaned and roll his eyes. 

~~

Ko-fi link

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[sweetbunnykook]

Only You (9)

Word Count: 13,197 // [SPOILER IN WARNINGS] angst (mention of double homicide, gore/blood, miscarriage, mistreatment of a corpse, panic attack), smut (period sex, cunnilungus, blowjob, throatpie, body worship, mommy kink), brief fluff, toxic relationship, manipulation

Photographer!Jungkook X Noona!Reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook, your wedding photographer, helps you escape on your big day upon learning about a secret your groom-to-be kept hidden. You soon fall for this young, passionate photographer. However, you underestimated just how much he was willing to reciprocate that love. Maybe, you think, he’s loving you just a little too much.  

A/N: If you are still reading this series, I wish you the best of luck. Please leave a review if you can and let me know your thoughts. - 🐰

You were every mother’s blessing – kind, caring, intelligent, obedient. She watched you stumble and fall many times but you manage to catch your footing with a smile. Despite your yearning for independence, your mother kept you in her embrace as all mothers do. In some ways, it would be loving; things like helping you choose the venue for your wedding and holding your hand while you inquire about using chiffon instead of silk for your veil. You were such a wonderful daughter that she didn’t wish for a son even when you decided to carve your own path rather than follow your father’s footsteps into medicine and entrepreneurship.

It’s why your mother sits in the parking lot of your apartment complex, dumbfounded beyond belief, teeth gritted. She looks up at your window to see Jungkook staring back down at her, unable to read him. She holds his steel hard gaze, daring him to look away or pull the curtains close.

He doesn’t take the bait.  

Pulling the shifting gear and rolling out of the parking lot, she peels her eyes away and takes several deep breaths.

There is no way on God’s green Earth that you fell in love with a middle-class photographer. Of all people, of all the men in your circle, affluent men coming from money both new and old, you couldn’t have fallen for a lowly photographer who doesn’t care about you enough to know his place and leave you be. How could Jungkook not know that you aren’t meant to live like this? How could he be so selfish as to hope for marriage when he could barely afford the ring he wants to slip onto your finger?

Your mother throws back her head and cackles. The only reason you were able to study abroad during college, the only reason why you could walk into an upscale neighborhood and look like you belong there, is because she followed the natural way. She never loved your father, not even once, but he was a good husband and an even better financial asset. Not only did she not have to lift a finger after tying the knot, but she also became part of the untouchables.

There’s a sense of power and invincibility that comes with wealth. It comes softly, like a whisper of wind that keeps a dandelion intact; it’s invisible to the eyes but she can feel it when she shakes hands with politicians, celebrities, businessmen and women, important people doing important things.

It took nearly twenty years of work. Getting close to the Kims, making sure you attend the same school as their children, running into Namjoon when you visit their vacation home, and letting his parents witness what a great wife you would be for him – it was all going so well. Puberty treated you well enough too that she didn’t need to consider getting you minor cosmetic procedures when you graduated high school. Sure, you could lose a few more pounds, but you were healthy and fit to give the Kims, and her, the grandchildren who will guarantee a new generation of wealth and prosperity. Gone are the days when she could only dream about creating the perfect family, respected by the social circle and the general public. You, her lifelong project, made it all come true.

Yet, life proves to be cruel once again.

As soon as she set her eyes on Yori she knew she was trouble. She didn’t object when you stayed out later and wore a bit more makeup than what was deemed graceful for a woman of your age. She knew that if she’d raised her voice, you would be compelled to rebel (it didn’t help that you were as stubborn and thick-skinned as your father). However, she wanted to warn you, just a tiny bit, that Yori is the kind of girl whose eyes strayed to find a new target and you were a hair away from standing right in the middle of that mark. She knew, because Yori had the kind of eyes she had as a twenty-year-old woman who climbed that very same social ladder.  

You were such a good daughter, so intelligent and transparent, that she believed you would have the backbone to come into your mother’s arms at the first sign of danger. It looks like you were just as clueless as the rest of the sheep you called your bridesmaids.

A Jeep honks from the next lane as she swerves into the street and bangs on the steering wheel with the heel of her hand, her Cartier bracelets clanking together in unity. The light turns yellow and she stomps on the accelerator, lurching the vehicle forward.

At the end of the day, she knew it was her fault. She could have warned you earlier, planted seeds of doubt in your mind, even pull Namjoon back into your arms if you realized soon enough; but alas, your day was chosen to be one of desolation and misfortune. Her poor daughter, the apple of her eye, the one precious gem of a person who would propel the family into royalty, whisked right away from under her nose.

She shakes her head, tires screaming as she veers into the next semi-busy lane, watching the sun disappear into the horizon as the familiar roads darken.

Letting you mourn on your own terms was the biggest mistake of her life, second to not following her gut feeling and keeping Yori away from you. She knew about this photographer lover of yours who has the face of an angel and seem to follow you like a puppy wherever you go. From a distance, she’d watched you wrap your arms around him and kiss him with such fervor in a public space she felt bile rise for the first time looking at you – her most precious creation acting like a hussy for all to see.

The boy seemed to be in love with you as much as you depended on him. She waited until you would be sick of him like the ones you took to bed after the wedding night (yes, she knew about your shameful conquests). She waited countless nights, praying that you would come to your senses, that you won’t refuse her advances, until months later she sees you living with him and sharing meals and completely forgetting about her. Yes, she had been mainly focused on making sure the investors haven’t pulled out and that you still had a name for yourself after the wedding. It wasn’t an ideal response as a mother because you needed help and she knew you’d throw a hissy fit but you must understand that while you had been taking men to bed, she had been busting her ass saving what’s left of the family pride.

The Kims also attempted to salvage your reputation, but they won’t do so at the cost of Namjoon’s name. The true reality is that parents will only care for their own blood in the end.

It’s why she finds herself confused and drenched with sweat when the car halts in front of the white villa lined with jasmine bushes. There’s a new gate installed, probably to keep away reporters during the first few weeks after the wedding incident hit the papers, and it momentarily angered her that she must now ask an intercom to enter a space that should have been a gift to you from the Kims.

Her hands tighten around the steering wheel with the intent to squeeze something warm and pulsing. She still remembered the day Yori knelt on the floor of your dressing room and she still remembered the strands of hair that squeezed her fingertips as she tore the whore’s flower hair clip off her head. The yelling, the panic, the uproar, the whispers that came from the guests – it was humiliation to the tenth degree.

Wiping the bead of sweat off her temples with the back of her hand, your mother hushes the engine and places the key in her coat. She steps out of the vehicle and marches up to the gate and buzzes in, huffing when her heels wobble on the cobblestone steps.

A few heartbeats later, Yori’s voice pours through her ears and reached into the crevices of her scalp like a dull headache.

“Hello?”

She leans forward. “It’s me.”

There’s a long pause before the gates click open and the stone stairway up to the front door reveals itself with a moist gleam. The garden sprinklers die down just as she steps onto the platform and makes her way up to the front door where Yori is leaning against, one hand on her stomach, the other hand tucking her fringe away from her face. She notes that the knitted silk dress, tied above the swell of her belly, is from the latest Prada collection.

“What a pleasant surprise,” she smiles. “Come in. Welcome to my home. I apologize for the mess…I had a baby shower earlier today and help is gone for the rest of the week.”

Your mother wanted to rip that smug grin off her face but she kept her eyebrows still and her lips soft.

“Excuse my intrusion.”

She walks into the spacious living room, eyes quickly glancing at the stacks of presents on the couch and the empty bottles of sparkling water and champagne sitting on the coffee table. She can recognize, just from the color of the boxes, that the gifts were not cheap. Had you married Namjoon, this would have been your palace.

“I’m in the middle of decorating the nursery. If you don’t mind…” Yori says, not bothering to look back as she makes her way up the stairs. She didn’t have to turn around to see that steam is coming out of your mother’s ears. “Can you help me with unrolling the mat in the hallway? I can’t bend over very well.”

Your mother trails behind in place of answering, watching Yori’s hip swing side to side as she makes her way up the stairs and then turn to leer down at the older woman. It’s a bit laughable, Yori thinks, as your mother pretends not to ogle at the stacks of Tiffany blue boxes tucked beside the living room couch like shoeboxes. Her face flushes when she meets Yori’s eyes once more but she doesn’t comment as she follows the young woman into the hallway just a few feet away from the stairs. Her head turns at the smell of fresh paint to see the nursery on her left, the door left open as if the room expected her arrival.

“Where’s Namjoon?”

Yori fixes her fringe once more. “He needed to attend a conference in Ginza. I’ll tell him you stopped by.”

“There’s no need.” She leers at the stacks of presents next to the crib. More aquamarine boxes, all neatly stacked according to size with the smallest at the top.

The younger woman leans against the tall, heavy vase next to the wall leading into the hallway to the East wing. “If you say so.”

There’s no reason for your mother to be here. It should be you instead, coming back to tie loose ends and perhaps inquire about Namjoon’s injuries if you cared enough. Compared to your mother, you didn’t have much of a backbone when it comes to relationships and it makes it so easy for men to take what they want and go. It’s what made you a bore, what gave Yori the power to pull Namjoon right into her bed and have him calling her name like a prayer.  

“Did you forget basic manners?” Your mother finally snaps, beady eyes darting from side to side to admire the nursery that could have been a snapshot from a furniture magazine. “Not even offering a glass of water?”

Yori only smiles, motioning to the unrolled mat slumped against the wall, adjacent from the staircase.

“I assumed whatever you wanted say would be quick as you came uninvited. You’d probably think the water is poisoned even if I offered any way.”

The older woman glances at the rug – no doubt imported from Dubai with its elegant coloring and silk touch – then walks over to it before tracing her fingers around the rolled edges. She shouldn’t have accepted to do such demeaning housework but given how she pulled into the driveway unannounced and that the woman is heavily pregnant with no help around, it was only fair. She may have left behind her patience with Jungkook but not her manners.  

“Why did you have to pick that day to tell her?”

Yori’s eyebrows raised just slightly before falling back down to its former position. She puts a hand over her stomach and walks towards the giant vase again, rubbing her fingers over the cool lacquered surface. Namjoon’s parents had a thing for porcelain she just couldn’t wrap her head around.

“What do you mean?”

“Why did you wait until the marriage ceremony to tell her you were screwing her husband?”

“Husband?” She cocks her head to the side with an incredulous widening of her pupils. “Last time I checked he only had a fiancée he rarely saw who ran away with some pretty photographer the first chance she got. I’d say that’s far from married.”

Your mother shakes her head. “Answer the question,” she looks down, chin trembling. The world is falling apart, her dreams are nothing but a pebble in quicksand, and you no longer cared. “Please.”

Yori watches, in a way one watches a fly buzzing around a piece of fruit, the older woman bring her hands together in front of her like it has taken all her energy to ask such a question. Maybe for a moment she considers telling the woman the truth. She considers telling her that you broke her heart first, that you had the world succumbing to your every need, that your mother’s greed doesn’t only belong to her but you too because you made Seokjin your lap dog while Namjoon promised you a future. She considers telling her about the night she saw you laying like a swooning damsel in distress as Seokjin – the only man she had to beg for attention – suckle your tits like you were getting paid for it. She considers telling your mother that her daughter is the two-faced whore here, not her. She considers telling her that you touched what belonged to someone else first.

But what difference would it make? What would it change? The baby is still due in a handful of weeks, Namjoon is set to take over the company once he gets his shit together and his nose heals, and you’re perfectly happy with a new and exciting boyfriend of yours. The truth doesn’t set anyone free, it just makes sure the shackles aren’t too tight.

Yori turns her moist eyes away towards the living room downstairs. She walks over to the railing, resting her wrist on the copper before she stares down at the half-eaten cake on the coffee table with utmost disgust, as if she can still smell the overly sweet frosting with too much blue and pink dye. Catching her voice, she brings the smile back onto her face.

“I picked that day,” she turns her head, just slightly to catch your mother’s expression. “Just because I wanted to watch her look as pathetic as you do now.”

Your mother’s lips part, hands falling to her sides.

“It just happened. That’s all there is to it.”

“That’s…all?”

Yori chuckles, her empty gaze falling back down to the cake. “That’s all.”

Years of planning, years of giving you the best education the country has to offer, years of making sure you never have to suffer as she had, years of shaking hands and kissing the ground the Kims walk on, only for this girl without new or old money to come and…

Before your mother can think, she lunges forward and grabs Yori by the ends of her hair, twisting the locks around her wrist as the younger woman gasps and shrieks. Her swollen stomach hits your mother’s side as she screeches and uses both hands to grab at her taught hair, pulling away to place as much distance she can. The heel of her ankle catches the edge of the first step and she watches the older woman’s eyes widen as she slams, back first, into the steps and then bounce off the next step as her jaw and skull slams into the copper pipe railing. Yori’s stomach hits the corners of the last several steps before the swell of her belly squeezes inwards, the final gurgling scream ripping out of her throat as her vision turns black and the house falls in silence.

It all happened so fast. Your mother watches with her hands over her ears, chest pounding and bracelets clattering as her limbs turn cold and her knees buckle.  

Her eyes widen, more and more, as the pool of blood around Yori’s head expands until there lays maroon halo around her crown. She’s lying flat on her stomach and it takes another moment for the trembling woman to realize that, in the silence save for her own labored breathing, the bump is no longer there.

“Oh my god…”

Curling over to the side, your mother’s jaw falls open and the remnants of her early lunch spills over one of Yori’s shoes ledged between the railing and the first step. She empties her stomach until there is nothing left, her knuckles white as she grips the railing for support. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she descends down the staircase, back pressed against the wall and eyes darting from the body to the tinted windows with burgundy curtains tied to the side. When she reaches the body, she trips over Yori’s limp feet as she quickly dashes to the living room to draw the curtains close, her neck craning from side to side as she finds any opening where an imaginary eye might witness the ultimate sin. It was only when she finds herself in the kitchen, washing her hands that she realized she had, in fact, stolen two lives.

Yori, and the baby who never had the chance to see daylight.

…

You’re sitting in a bathroom stall, turning over the small flash drive between your fingers when you hear the clattering of heels against polished tile and the sound of handbags slumping on the counter. One of the women walks into the stall next to yours, undoing the tampon wrapper as if she were scouring for the winning lottery number written on the string.

“Did you see Jin with her again?” The woman outside of the stall says and you recognize her by voice. She works for the accounting department and regularly walks into your office for weekly reports.

“I was keeping an eye of him. It’s annoying that they work together now so he’s always all over her.”

No doubt this conversation is about you.

“Tell me about it. I bet they’re fucking, you saw how he looked at her.”

“Doesn’t she have a boyfriend?” The toilet flushes and you can hear her shrugging her skirt back up to her thighs.

You hear a gasp. “Oh my god, you’re right. It’s that young guy who keep bringing her lunch, right? She didn’t break up with him?”

The stall opens and both women are in front of the counter. You’re stuck in your seat, not knowing whether to kick open the door or to interrupt the conversation but with Seokjin’s flash drive in your clammy hands, you struggle to even breathe.

“They’re still together. Looks like that photographer dick is too good to give up for the office hunk.”

They laugh like hyenas – that high, shrieking kind of laugh that makes their red lipstick bleed onto the corners of their mouths.

“They’re so out of her league. What do they even see in her? She’s painfully average. The only thing she’s got going on is a good wardrobe.”

You keep your head lowered when they walk past your stall as if they could see you. They pull on the paper towel lever until they can rip a generous piece and wipe their hands.

“She’s rich. She’s probably only working here because it keeps her humble or some bullshit like that. You know how girls with daddy’s money are, thinking they’re doing charity for working like the rest of us-”

You don’t hear the rest of their conversation, glad that your face no longer feels hot but you’re angered all the same. Jungkook’s visits, for this reason, had made you nervous in the beginning because you know they’ll talk and come up with their own little villain fantasy about you. It doesn’t bother you as you keep work separate from life (something Jungkook had been interrupting much to your discomfort) but hearing it in person ignited the kind of angry tears that has you cursing at yourself for letting yourself be disturbed by it.

You grab your handbag off the hook, place the flash drive back in your pocket, and unlock the stall before pushing the door open. You wash your hands in haste as the air had become suffocating in the aftermath of the two women. Wiping your wet hands down your black slacks, you let your wavy hair down and let it frame your face to hide your flushed cheeks, making sure that your eyes are no longer moist and your nose isn’t pink. What a way to end a workday.

When you arrive back at the office, most of your coworkers are gone except for the new interns organizing papers for tomorrow and the occasional workaholics making coffee in the makeshift cafeteria. You just hope you won’t run into the two women if they choose to swing by for whatever reason but, thankfully, it was never a common occurrence. They never did above the bare minimum any way.

A sigh of relief leaves your lips when you slump back down your office chair, squeezing your nose bridge as a wave of exhaustion wracks havoc in your pulsing head.

“There are some more sandwiches in the fridge, please help yourself if you’d like.” A student intern says as she carries a crumpled file under one arm, peering from above your divider.

“Oh!” You exclaim, your head darting towards the room Sora left in a mess before turning back to the girl. “Thank you, I’ll help myself. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She gives a short nod before leaving, the glass door squeaking as the office once again is filled with the sound of coffee machines whirring and papers shredding.

The USB flash drive sits heavy in your pocket as you wave goodbye to the last person leaving your department with a cup of coffee. She nods, smiling, and pushes out the heavy glass door and you silently hope she won’t forget to return the mug before leaving the building. You listen to the clacking of her heels fading before turning back to the work computer still logged into your account. The saturated blue screen is harsh on your vision and you find yourself squeezing your eyes shut, turning to look at the clock on the wall momentarily to keep yourself grounded.

Jungkook can call at any minute as your shift is coming to an end.

Maybe it would be easier to do this with your phone turned off but knowing him, he would worry enough to drive over to make sure you’re safe.

Within the gray walls that surround your cubicle, you should feel secure. Yet, some part of you wonders if he would suddenly appear behind you and wrap you in his arms before asking you what you’re up to. In this nightmare of a scenario, you can also feel the antagonizing gaze of the two women.

Looking back down at the USB, you’ve come to realize that you have bigger things to worry about. Some part of you feels just as disgusting as a cheater taking off her ring in the presence of another man.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

You’ve rehearsed the same mantra in your head at least a hundred times within the same hour (before you had the unfortunate chance to overhear that unpleasant conversation) and it sickens you that this is a phrase that Namjoon would have used to justify his time with Yori. It’s a cheater’s mentality – a cowardly way of shifting responsibility away from themselves without considering the consequences when the truth comes to light.  

With a sigh, you pull the flash drive out of your pocket and flip the black casing open until the lid hangs off its hinges to reveal the silver end. You look around once more, taking a deep breath, and push the end into the appropriate slot of the system unit. The USB flashes a neon green light, pulsing as it loads, before it dims and a small ping pulls your attention back to the screen.

The file explorer window expands, showing a ZIP file among an array of photos that had you squinting to observe. You jolt straight from the seat as your phone rings. Cursing under your breath as you note an incoming call. You’re just about to turn back to the screen when you recognize that the number flashing across your screen isn’t Jungkook’s but your mother’s. She never called at this time and if she did, she would have texted you first to make sure you weren’t in a meeting.

Just as you reach for the phone, it stops ringing and you contemplate turning it off. But something tells you you should have taken the call. When the phone rings again, causing you to flinch, you let it vibrate twice before swiping across the screen.

In exactly five minutes, you will regret ever picking up the call. In ten minutes, you’re running for your life.

…

Jungkook paces back and forth with his thumb between his teeth. If he bit his nails any shorter, he would pierce through skin. Your voice still rings in his ear as you cry into the phone, your tires screaming through the speaker as you speed through the streets back to the apartment. He’s sick with worry, wondering if you crashed into a tree of if you decided – on a whim – to handle this situation yourself. Because you called him immediately after you left work, he has a feeling you wouldn’t do anything stupid but today has been especially unpredictable.

First, your mother coming to meet him. Second, the same woman pushing Yori down the stairs and threatening you to take care of it. If he’d heard you correctly, the old wench even mentioned she would make his life a living hell if you don’t head over immediately. Some mother you are. It pisses him off to no end that you had to live with her for half of your life but it makes him even more upset that you’ve been hiding your mother’s behavior, throwing excuses about how much she worries when she’d call in the mornings and leave voicemails that you delete without listening.

He changes into a pair of jeans and an old university sweatshirt that is a bit too tight on the cuffs. When he hears the sound of your heels clack on the other side of the door, he barely had the time to wrap his head around such a God-given opportunity.

As soon as the door swings open you’re falling into his arms, wracked with sobs as he engulfs your entire torso in his arms. He presses your head further below his neck, reaching behind you to grab his coat off the hanger and wrap it around you before kicking the door close in case a neighbor passes by. You can’t bear to lift your head, trembling as your teeth chatter and your pupils are wide with fear. He’s never seen you like this – not even during the wedding night – and it makes his insides squeeze as if someone had reached in him and pressed a hand against his organs.

“I-I don’t know w-” you sob, “I don’t know w-what to do. I can’t breathe. Jungkook-”

He hushes you softly, threading his fingers through your hair with his thumbs curling around your ear. He tilts your head up towards his gaze, watching your tears trail down your face and onto the coat. Between gasps, you’re wailing, your throat tightened to the point that even his name sounds like nails on chalkboard on your lips.

“Noona, you have to breathe for me. Inhale,” he brings air into his nostrils as demonstration, “and exhale. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, swallowing first before you mimic and close your eyes. Jungkook brings a hand up to your chest, digging underneath the coat to feel it pounding against your ribcage.

“Keep breathing, noona. It’s going to be okay, keep breathing.” He rubs his warm palm over the chiffon and you find yourself leaning your forehead against his chest in exhaustion.

You wish you could stay in his embrace forever. Locked inside this warm and unassuming apartment, away from your mother, away from the past that has now resurfaced in the worst way imaginable – you wish you can curl into his arms and never leave. That…or you just want the world to swallow you in a deep well and leave you to starve.

“We have to tell the police.” You tremble. You can’t imagine the repercussions, not to mention the heartache of seeing your mother behind bars. She’d rather hang herself than end up in prison, you know that much. You’d sworn to your father before his passing that you’d keep her safe and you’re already thinking of running away.

“Noona…”

“We do. We…I have to. I-I mean it was an accident,” you’re suddenly peeling yourself away from him, bringing your hands up to rub your face. “They’ll give her m-maybe three or four years at most, right? If it was an accident it won’t be…”

Jungkook comes up behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders and rubbing up and down. You’re shaking again, tears streaming even quicker than before and the nausea is causing you to falter from side to side.

“Kookie, I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do, I’m going crazy. I don’t know what to do.”

He places his forehead against the crown of your head, staring into the distance. You feel his fingers tighten around your arm before he’s wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his weight upon your collarbones.

“Do you trust me, noona?” He whispers.

The fridge hums in the distance. You nod.

“Yes…I trust you. With my life.”

When he doesn’t reply, you turn your body, slowly, as if you were anticipating a monster and not a man, until you can look up at his face. He’s rubs his thumbs over your tears and moves down to your chapped lips, swollen and pink from your incessant gnawing. Your lips part just slightly as you exhale, keeping your eyes locked onto his loving eyes. He looks so angelic under the kitchen lights, the yellow bulbs blurred by the moisture in your eyes to form a halo around his long fringe. His hair is parted in the middle to form a curtain around his structured face, casting a shadow over his eyes in the semi-darkness. You can’t see him clearly with the lights behind him but you can sense his confidence, his reassuring grip on your cheeks; he’s no longer the boy from the night before but a man who is willing to keep the promise he made to you.

“I can help you.” He whispers softly once more, his voice lowered. “If you take me to the body…I can help you, noona.”

He holds your gaze, his thumbs still rubbing softly over your cheeks as if to coax the words into your skin. The implication isn’t lost on you but your body reacts first, fingers shaking as a fresh wave of sweat prickles down your back.

“W-What do you…” you trail off as your breathing grows heavy. Jungkook puts a hand on your chest once more as he did before, rubbing softly over your chest to calm your pounding heart.

He holds you close, breathing in your skin once more as his own eyes sting with unshed tears. Fate is a terrible thing and for every moment of bliss with you, he must pay the price; except, this price is a new opportunity to secure you by his side and earn your mother’s silent approval. It’s okay, Jungkook thinks, he can do this for you. He has the resources, the will, the strength, the plans – the only thing he can’t predict is your mental well-being in the aftermath.

Will you lose respect for him? Will you still love him? One thing he was sure of was that this was the only chance to keep your mother from arranging a marriage partner for you. He must go through it to not only save your sanity, your mother, but your answer when he puts one knee on the ground and opens the velvet box he keeps on top of the fridge for the perfect time. Oh how the universe responded so quickly to the day’s worries.

“Back then…when you said you would…”

Kill

“…You would do that for me. You really meant it, baby?”

Jungkook brings your head back under his chin and keeps you there, rocking from side to side as if to lull you to sleep.

“I meant every word. I’m not afraid, noona, not if it means I can protect you and your family.” His eyes darken as he tangles his fingers into your hair, twirling the ends of your waves between his fingers. “You love me, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“Then I need you to listen to me.”

With great reluctance, he pulls you away and holds your palm in both of his larger hands. Your eyes are closed, whether from fatigue or concentration he doesn’t know until your brows scrunch when he speaks.  

“Call your mother when I tell you to and tell her you’re on your way over. If she asks why you didn’t answer her previous calls, tell her you had an emergency at work. Reassure her and make sure she doesn’t touch anything more than she’s probably already touched by now. Don’t mention that I’m coming with you, understand? She might panic and bring attention to herself if there’s any witnesses.”

You nod continuously, creating a mental checklist. Call, inform, excuse, reassure, move.

“And noona?”

You look back up into his eyes.

“You…you won’t hate me after tonight…would you?”

How could you fathom it? With his warm, sincere stare and willingness to walk to the ends of earth for someone as plain and unlovable as you, you should be on your knees worshipping him. You don’t understand how he can think of you hating him when he had so willingly put his entire life at risk without reluctance. You aren’t asking him to fetch a forgotten carton of milk at the corner store. You’re asking him to clean up the mess your mother made, a mess that can tear your entire world apart, a mess that has nothing to do with your boyfriend who has no boundaries to prove his devotion.

You shake your head. “I could never,” you breathe.

You hold him this time, letting his body bow towards your trembling figure as he breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume on your neck. You give him a moment of peace. You wanted him to remember this touch as after this night is over, you don’t know if you’ll be the same person. You don’t know if he’ll be either.

He goes over the plan once more and leads you to his car. When Jungkook straps you into the passenger seat and turns the ignition key, you curl your fingers around your shaking knees. He notices your anxiety and takes the closest hand in his before letting your palm rest over the gear shift. He places his own hand on top of yours, gripping tightly when he shifts and maneuvers the car out of the parking lot and onto the road before unclenching.

The sky is pitch black and the moon stalks from behind. You count every tree, read every sign, tense at every sign of a police car passing by, and sniffle when your burning eyes refuse to calm. You don’t register where you are until Jungkook lets go of your hand on the shifting gear and undo his seatbelt. You’re inside the garage of his studio, surrounded by wires, cardboard boxes, plastic bins, and office supplies. When you grasp his arm, letting out a small cry, he hushes you instantly, bringing your hand up to his lips to place a tender kiss on your knuckles.

“I’ll be quick, noona. I just need to get some things, okay? I’ll be right there-” he points to the very back of the car – “in view.”

You swallow, nodding before uncurling your grip from his arm.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint for Jungkook not to coo at your desperation. He missed this dependency of yours (he had only seen it during the wedding night and the necklace argument) and for once he wonders if he went a bit too far with his role as the sweet and needy boyfriend. He’s not acting in a way that he doesn’t want to but he is guilty of dramatizing some of his pleas and affectionate touches. He knows, in his head, that he is a man. He’s stronger, taller, capable of committing a crime and not just cleaning its aftermath, and will eventually be the father of your children. He’ll tug his collar open to expose his vulnerabilities, but he will show you his strength too. Tonight is a blessing from the universe that will, finally, keep you where you belong: at his side, looking at him, and needing only him.

You watch as Jungkook swings open the trunk of his car and load three large plastic bins and pile photography equipment – tripods, developer fluids, camera bags, lighting equipment, and even a small monitor. And then you see the last box of supplies: rope, black plastic bags, gloves, masks, bleach, towels, and tape. When his eyes meet yours, he flashes you a small smile between his labored breaths, the kind you’re used to seeing after you make love to him and he’s spent, sprawled on the sheets with an arm over his perspired forehead. The car jolts slightly as pushes the back door shut and hop back into the driver seat, adjusting the temperature in the car, muttering something under his breath, and latching his seat belt back on.

He keeps both hands on the wheel. “Noona…make the call now.”

You’re frozen, hands clasped together on your lap.

“Kookie…”

You’re having doubts. He can see it in the way you can’t even bear to look at him. He digs through your pocket and presses your cell phone on your lap. When the lockscreen awakens to the photo of you two, you feel your heart anchor to the bottom of your stomach.

“I-I can’t do it.” You shake your head. “We have to go to the police. I can’t live without you, I can’t live without mom, we’ll get caught and I-” You press your hands to your face, your hoarse sobs lodged deep in your throat before it rips from your chest in the kind of wailing that makes Jungkook’s own heart squeeze. “I can’t do this. I can’t do this to Yori either e-even if it means my family…I’m sorry…I’m sorry…”

He sees himself in you. He sees himself as the teen boy who let Taehyung drag his scalpel across his father, then his mother, before encouraging him to give it a try. You’re a virgin. Even if tonight worked out perfectly according to his plans, you’d still be a crime virgin. It was your mother who pushed Yori, not you. Knowing how empathetic you are, how tender you are, it might as well be you who pushed the woman down the stairs. He knows your fear all too well and he knows just how quick your hummingbird heartbeat is underneath his coat that you’re wearing. You’re just like him.

“You’re beautiful, noona.” He places a palm over your clasped hands and brings his other hand up to your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and strumming your cheeks with the back of his fingers.

“No one deserves your kindness. It fucking upsets me,” he swallows, allowing his eyes to water, “that even a mother will take advantage of that kindness.”

You sob into his hand, leaning your temple against the head rest. He’s right. How many times have your mother, before Jungkook came into your life, morphed you into something you’re not? The days you spent trying to please her, comparing yourself to other children she would complement to get a reaction out of you, letting yourself be a pawn for when she wanted something from your father that either required money or the right handshake. You still love her above all because she’s your mother but there’s no denying how much it still touches every part of your life from your relationships to your career. Moving away from her and letting her fade into the background was a true feat and it pains you that all that effort crumbled away and you’re left in a bigger mess to clean than before. If only you hadn’t taken the fucking call.

Maybe this was your fault. Maybe, if you hadn’t been such a hard-headed person, she would never had driven over to Yori’s place and none of this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn���t have to get Jungkook involved either, as willing as he is.

“You trust me, don’t you?” Jungkook slouches back into his seat, putting his hands back onto the steering wheel. “Don’t you, noona?”

You nod, keeping your head lowered.

“Then be good for me and call. I’ll take care of you and I’ll take care of everything else. I’ve never broken that promise, not now, not ever.”

Jungkook hopes that’ll work. He’s rather annoyed but not at you, never at you. Why couldn’t she tumble down those stairs too instead of giving you such unnecessary stress? This kind of stain would be terrible for the baby had you been pregnant. It’s tearing him apart watching how different you are now compared to this morning, leaving the apartment in comfort only to come falling into his arms in tears. He came to the conclusion that you’re simply too pure for the world.

Oh how romantic tonight would be if you were honest with yourself all along. Claiming to loathe your mother with the strength of a thousand suns only to act like this when she shows up with baggage. Jungkook can’t blame you for you shared a majority of your life with the wench, but he finds it exasperating that you can’t see how little of your pity people like her deserve. Nevertheless, you wouldn’t be the love of his life if you weren’t so sensitive and caring.

It was with great relief that you mustered the courage to swipe across the phone screen and type your mother’s number.

He clicks open the garage door and the vehicle begins to descend down the elevated lot.

“M-mom? I’m on my way now…c-can you tell me where you are? It’ll be okay…I know mom, I-I’ll be there soon…”

…

You feel eerily calm as Jungkook drives past your mother’s car parked in the front of the gate to circle around the perimeter of the fence. He doesn’t recognize the new gate but he’d climbed over the old ones many times to watch you on the balcony. The metal may have changed but the level of security should be the same given that the villas are built a good distance apart between trees and the residents – people with mostly new money – keep to themselves. Lodged between a large tree and a partial opening in the back gate that is no doubt left ajar by your mother, Jungkook step out of the vehicle and press the door close before coming over to your side.

He’s relieved that you’re no longer in tears but your hands are still freezing cold despite the heat turned to the max inside. Your eyes are wandering and your breaths are labored as you press your body close to Jungkook’s.

Your mother is waiting near the door, her head poking out just slightly in the darkness and you can see the familiar row of bracelets on her wrist. She seems to have aged several years in just the last few months and the reason for her demise is standing next to you.

“Are you insane?” She seethes as she pulls you by the arm into the dark house and keep her eyes on Jungkook whose gaze bore into her skull. “How could you bring another-”

Jungkook barely had the time to secure your grip on his arm when you gasp, flinching back to hit the chess table next to where he’s standing when you see Yori’s pale arm stretched out from beneath a mat. The deep crimson shade of blood had congealed on the marble, partially smudged by the mat above her weighing her corpse down. Deep inside you had hoped that at least the baby could be saved, by some miracle, but the damage is far too great. Accident or not, a police officer finding this scene would not consider a light sentence if you mother decided to confess.

The older woman’s jaw is clenched, no doubt suppressing the panic she too feels hammering inside her as you hang off of Jungkook arm, trembling still. She looks up to your boyfriend and finds herself jolting awake when his eyes are peering down at her. He looks kind, sympathetic, soft, as if he is still sitting across her on your couch, eager to prove that he can be the son-in-law she’s been looking for all along.

“You should head home for the night. I’ll handle the rest.”

She scratches at her bracelets, her nails tugging the gold free from her skin. “B-But…where are you taking her? Anyone will find it if she’s buried in the yard.”

Jungkook doesn’t answer the question.

“Please go home and make sure there are no witnesses. I know you didn’t inform anyone before coming here,” he turns his head towards the body, “so go home as if you were never here. I promise I’ll take care of it.”

It’s evident the older woman is relieved by the way her shoulders slump but her gaze is still firm as she measures her trust into the young man who is in full control of your heart. Your eyes are still on the body when your mother takes your hands in hers and gives a squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” she croaks. She knew she gave birth to such a dependable, obedient daughter. You’re every mother’s dream and she makes a mental note to come back to your apartment with more boxes of food and perhaps make amends. There are far too many misunderstandings and miscommunication; it’s no way for a mother and child to live.

However, when you rip your hands away and take Jungkook’s hand in yours, her face crumbles.

“I don’t ever want to see you again.” You hiss, your voice straining. You’ve never spoken to her like this and didn’t think about doing so until you saw the body, the mess your boyfriend has to clean. “You did this to us.”

“Wh-”

“Leave me alone. Please, mom. Get out of here, okay?” Your eyes glisten and you wipe away the droplets before they have the chance to fall. “It’s…we’re putting our lives on the line for you. It’s the least you can do now…so please…”

Between your pleas and Jungkook’s silence, your mother bites the inside of her cheek from saying anything more and turns back the way you came in. You watch her figure recede into the darkness, her shoes clacking softly on the cobblestone path. She turns back to look at you before the door closes and for once, you earn the most genuine apology you’ve ever received and this time she didn’t even need to open her mouth.

When the door falls back into place, Jungkook gives your shoulders a comforting rub and leads you towards the staircase, reminding you to breathe. He feels a bit more relieved that your mother didn’t raise too much of a ruckus. How could she when he’s the one getting his hands dirty? It’s what the perfect son-in-law will do and after this night is over, he’ll no longer have doubts about her approval. She wouldn’t have a valid argument anyway – not when he had just proved that he’s willing to go to the ends of Earth for your family and stability.

You’re too cute, Jungkook thinks, as you breathe through your nose and exhale through your lips. You’re a mirror image of his virgin self coated in blood, panicked but euphoric, angered but more than relieved to be rid of the parasites that kept him in the sewers.

“H-how are we going to do this?” You breathe, looking up the stairs as if you were expecting Namjoon to be standing there.

“I’ll handle the body. You can help me wipe down the stairs, okay?”

And handle it he did. He first fetched the supplies from the car, making sure once more that there are no witnesses while also keeping you within sight. Even without a severe puncture wound, Yori made quite a mess.

The terror didn’t come from seeing your former friend of years lay in a puddle of her own secretions. Nor did it come from seeing how calm and collected your boyfriend is peering down at the body with something akin to annoyance. No, terror came from how easily your mind and body adapted to helping Jungkook. You had no more tears left to shed when he lifted the mat from the body and placed a plastic covering next to her before rolling her body onto it. The sheet rustles beneath her weight and the stench of iron and urine fills your nostrils, prompting you to place your gloved hand over your nose.

Jungkook seems to know just what to do. He orders for you to wipe the railings first, which you do so with the slowness of a snail climbing a brick wall. The smell of bleach kept the nausea at bay and prompted you to focus on the smaller tasks because you can feel your heart already beginning to race with the sound of your boyfriend dragging Yori by the feet to straighten her posture. When you risked a glance back, you catch yourself feeling irked by the way Jungkook places her fingers so tenderly on her flattened stomach. Even when he’s wearing gloves, you catch yourself glaring at his touch on her skin, at the way his fingers brush over the ring on her finger. It makes you clench your jaw harder, pour more bleach onto the staircase, and wipe down each step with vigor.

She’s dead, she can’t take him from you.

You spray the bleach onto the top step, scrubbing with the heel of your palm as your shoulder fights through aches and pressure. You can do this. If Jungkook kept his promise, you must too. You will never find another man who will devote his entire life to you and for that you must not be too forgiving to those who don’t deserve your kindness, not this time.

All your life it’s one person after another coming to take what they want and leave. This is your lesson to finally take yourself back from them all, to come to terms with how much you gave and how little you received, see that Jungkook was the catalyst you desperately needed. It was no coincidence that when the elevator doors opened that very night of your wedding, he was the person standing in front of you. He was meant to be there holding your shoes as he rescues you away from those who would eventually suck the life out of you. He’s not someone you should be afraid of – no – because he’s your savior.

When you turn back again, Jungkook is slipping Yori’s legs into a large, black plastic bag identical to the one she’s laying on. He uses the bag beneath her to fight friction as he slides her body forward, careful not to bend her body before the duct tape comes into play.

And suddenly, your shoulder doesn’t ache anymore. Your heartbeat slows as you take another deep breath, this time through your lips, and watch his shoulders hunch over and forearm veins protrude.

“Kookie?”

He looks up, hair damp with sweat as it falls over his eyes. The lights from the front lawn, as it filter through dark maroon curtains, casts a red glow on your lover’s skin. When he meets your eyes he’s filled with glee, seeing that you’re no longer panicking and your eyes are clouded with a kind of protective apathy that lets him know you’ve gotten stronger. You’re dipping a toe into his world.

“Yes, noona?” He huffs, straightening his spine and wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist.

“Nothing will happen to us after tonight…right?”

He physically melts at your saccharine voice. You’re worried about him, about whether he’ll still want you after this and if he’ll want you forever. “Of course not, noona. Are you feeling okay? Do you need to rest?” He asks if he hadn’t been the one packing the corpse into a bag.

You shake your head with a sniffle. “…I’m fine.” You’re not sure what to say, so you rub the cleaning cloth between your fingers and shy away from his eyes. “J just wanted to hear you say that.”

A smile spreads across his face, slow but bright as if he had just heard the most amazing thing. You can’t smile back and instead focus back on the floors and the last few inches of the railing.

You make sure to wipe the decorations nearby, in case your mother left any fingerprints on the lacquered surfaces. She can be rather careless in dire situations. You’re lifting yourself off the floor when something catches your eye: a large crib with layers and layers of blankets and fuzzy cloud and star plushies.

“What kind of bedtime stories should we tell our kids?”

Namjoon puts his head on your lap, sighing in relief when his neck is elevated at just the right position to depressurize the knot.

“What about myths? About the constellations and such.”

You giggle, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Isn’t that a little too mature for babies?”

When he doesn’t answer, you wave you hand in front of his eyes. He squints, chuckling. So this is what marriage life is going to be like – he can get used to it. “You’re right, that is a bit too much. Then…hm…they’ll learn about the types of clouds in the sky and we can go from there.”

“Joonie, I love you, but don’t come crying when our kids prefer mama’s stories over papa’s boring myths and random science facts.”

“We’ll see when we get to that point. Either way, you’re stuck with me.”

Asshole.

A fucking good-for-nothing lying asshole.

Gifting the same toys he promised to give to your future children to the same bitch who ruined your life, your family, and your sanity; they deserved each other, you think, and they both deserve to disappear as if they had never existed. The unborn baby inside Yori is innocent but a part of you is elated that he’ll never experience the kind of fatherhood he wanted. You silently wished Namjoon would tumble down the very same staircase you cleaned and joined Yori in a happy couple’s embrace to…

“Kookie?” You call out to your boyfriend who had duct taped the body in a semi-mummified state and used a shibari knot with his jute rope for easy carrying. He’d dragged the body next to the railing and leaned it against one of the stair planks in an upright position so that after he inspects the house for any evidence, he can bring the corpse easily over his shoulder.

“Yes, noona?”

“Where are we going to bury her?”

Jungkook wets his lips. He can’t possibly tell you the process of disposing a body or else you’ll surely fall back into panic so he gives you the simplest answer he can. “I’ll have to keep her body in the freezer in my studio. I’ll look for a place to burn it soon.”

You nod, swallowing as your throat tightens uncomfortably once more. The waves of anxiety come and goes. Jungkook knows how you’re feeling all too well and he wishes he could just hold you in your arms until tomorrow comes. Much to his distain, he knows you’re partly living your fantasy of making Yori pay for her involvement with Namjoon. You no longer love the man but anyone in your shoes wouldn’t deny there is a sense of satisfaction in seeking vengeance after a lifetime of humiliation that dampened your reputation in both your personal and professional sphere. Jungkook prays that getting rid of Yori will eliminate your mind of their presence although he highly doubts it; you’re not always rainbows and flowers. It’s only natural for you to be curious about taking another life when anger consumes logic. Most of these thoughts are fleeting ,which is why you had surprised Jungkook by your composure. He expected screaming at the very least but all you could do was cry.

He understands.

After he watched the life drain out of his parents, Taehyung had watched him cry for the longest time and when the next day came, it was like the world had turned its back while he washed the blood off his hands. The anxiety was terrible – at least for the first month or two – and then it was as if nothing had happened.

Like he learned before and like you’re learning now, it didn’t take much to get rid of a person. Over time, it just became muscle memory, kind of like making your morning coffee half-asleep. Now that you’ve gotten your first taste of the power, he wonders how you’ll cope. Will you fall into despair and regret it all in the morning? Will you be hungry for more? How will you return his most tiresome display of affection? These are questions he can’t answer. But what he does know is that you finally understand what love is in his world.

Love isn’t just about a ring on the finger or a baby in the crib. Love has to hurt. It has to infest your dreams and turn them into nightmares, wreak havoc on your heart, rip off the magnet in your moral compass. It’s why the human heart is caged behind ribs – it can hardly be tamed.

…

As the car lurches behind trees and between unpaved roads, Jungkook notifies your mother about what to do next. It would not raise suspicion for her to leave the country for a few weeks, especially since she had been traveling to speak to investors abroad. It would take some of the burden off his shoulders too; your mother is a cunning woman who fears losing money more than losing you so he had no trouble alluding to her demise if she disobeys. While you look away, he quickly sends a notification to Jimin to make sure the older man will take care of the rest. When he receives an immediate response back, his shoulders slump in relief and he pockets the phone back into his jeans.

When he takes your hand in his again, the other gripping the wheel, you give him the smallest of smiles through the silence.

Three is a crowd. The body folded and hidden in the rear space between his photography equipment makes your head turn every now and then to make sure it doesn’t escape somehow. You’re exhausted beyond belief but Jungkook is here, his palm over your hand on the shifting gear once more, to keep you grounded. The night feels like it might go on forever.

The streets pass by in a blur – nightlife still alive and pulsing with neon signs – and there’s a kind of peace enclosed in the car that you can’t find anywhere else. It’s the comfort in knowing that Jungkook has always been and will always be there for you. Whether to take you from somewhere or bring you to some place, he’s the only person in your life left that you could depend on. As he expertly drives through tight alleyways where gas station surveillance cameras can’t reach him, you’re dozing off with your head against the window.  

“We’re almost there.” He says while running his thumb over your knuckles. There’s blood on his shirt and your neck but you’re too tired to care.

You awaken with a gasp when Jungkook swings the door open; he had been careful not to wake you but you feel enough residual adrenaline to jolt awake at the smallest of sounds. It takes a moment for you to recognize the inside of his garage, the bright LED lightbulb hanging above causing you to squint as your eyes adjust.

Unaware that you’re awake, Jungkook quickly moves to the rear of the car and swing Yori’s body over his shoulders, tightening the ropes around where her neck and feet are to secure his grip. He carries the wrapped body towards the door next to the shelves and kicks it open to reveal several more stocked shelves before coming to a halt at the buzzing freezer. With a free hand, he lifts the lid open and removes several bags of seafood and miscellaneous food items you can’t quite make out before rolling the body inside the interior. He places the bags on top of the body and latches the freezer shut, securing it with a combination lock from one of his bins.

When he steps back and shut the storage door before turning, he’s surprised to see you standing in the doorway, your hair a mess, his coat hanging loose off one shoulder.  

“Do you remember the night after you took my engagement photos? The ones at that same house?”

His brows scrunch slightly in confusion as he nods. There’s a noticeable flush on your cheeks as you breath in and out from your lips, a puff forming in the chill of the garage. You’re half-asleep, the exhaustion resting well deep in your bones but you can’t bring yourself to find your way towards his bed.

“I left my bedroom door open for you. I-I watched you from the balcony and waited for you to come back.”

Jungkook’s lips part, something foreign stirring in his stomach as the coat weighs down your shoulders and you don’t stop it from sliding down your arms, letting it pool around your feet. You don’t know why you wanted to confess but it felt right. It felt right to confess to something that isn’t about being an accessory in a crime.  

“Why didn’t you say anything, noona?”

You close the distance, putting both of your hands on his chest, over the blood stains on the university sweatshirt. He exhales loudly when you bring him down to your level by a tug of his collar, your lips just a mere centimeter apart.

“Because I wanted you then just as much as I want you now.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between your lips, slamming your body onto the car behind you as he brings one of your legs over his waist to press himself against your heat. Your fingers curl around the nape of his neck and he listens to your squeal as he lifts you fully off the ground and lets you wrap both your legs around him this time. You break the kiss and pepper sweet kisses over the mole on his neck and the smears of dried blood that caked onto his sweatshirt.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, moving your head to the other side of his neck to suckle on his warm skin and feel his pulse through the jugular.

Jungkook quickly throws open the door to the studio and steps into the darkness, his memory allowing him to lead you towards the bathroom without his eyes adjusting. Your eyes burn once more when he reaches behind you to shut the bathroom door close and turn on the yellowed lights with the back of his elbow. When your face comes into view, he sits you on the counter next to the sink and pushes his tongue back in your mouth, your name leaving his lips with a whimper.

He’s terribly hard against your thighs, his length straining through his jeans. You tug him forward by the belt as you break the kiss once more and let him rip open your blood and bleach-stained blouse.

“God, you’re so beautiful, noona. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He moans as you press the heel of your feet up his erection, his voice muffled by skin filling his mouth as he takes the top your left breast spilling from the brassiere on his tongue. You arch to chase the heat of his tongue, back of your head leaning on the mirror behind.

“My good boy…such a good boy…”

The effect your praise has on him is immediate. Jungkook reaches behind his neck and pulls the sweatshirt over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. You watch him unbuckle and tug his belt free from the hoops before unclasping the front of his jeans. Impatient, he circles his arms around you to undo the brassiere, leaning down to kiss the indents on your skin as you slip your blouse off your shoulders and pull the straps down your arms. The coolness of the counter causes a hiss to leave your lips and Jungkook drinks in your state of orgasmic delirium like an aphrodisiac.

It’s a blessing for you to have worn a less difficult pair of pants to shimmy out of. With a short tug, Jungkook slides the waistband of your wool slacks and cotton panties down your ankles. When he pauses, chest rising and falling steadily, you follow his gaze to see a streak of blood in the middle of the light pink fabric.

In the time between your mother’s call and your boyfriend dumping your former best friend’s body in a freezer, your period makes an early appearance. The streak of blood is bright and vibrant, unlike Yori’s blood that oxidized into a deep maroon shade on his tanned skin. Jungkook tugs your pants down your ankles but takes your panties into one hand, his doe eyes coming to rest on the blood before something snaps within him.

He throws the fabric on the floor and hooks his arms beneath your shin, prompting you to gasp as he spreads your thighs apart. He stares down at your dark pubic hair before tracing two fingers up your slit and into the curls. His fingers reappear with your blood, seeping underneath his short nails and the crevices of his nailbed.

“Can I taste you, noona?” He breathes, chest rising and falling even faster. His cheeks are flaming red, the flush reaching his earlobes as his lips part for more air. He feels like he can’t breathe, seeing how beautiful, fertile, and red you are for him.

You’re hesitant, the blood reminding you of what you just done – what he just done – yet the burning in your belly proves that you want this just as much as he does. You barely had the chance to nod before Jungkook pushes his face into your pussy, his tongue lapping the blood on your vulva and clit as his nose buries in your trimmed curls. You taste metallic, as if he’s sucking on a penny, but it’s light and the syrupy texture allows him to take all of your juices in his mouth. When his tongue draws circles around your clit and he presses his lips around the nub like a suction, your fingers immediately grasp his hair from the roots, begging his tongue to fuck your weeping pussy.

Jungkook laps your folds like a starving puppy until you’re arching for him once more, thighs trapping his head where it belongs as your cum gushes out of you with traces with red. Between your blood and your juices, he can’t decide which one tastes better. The metallic tang disappears, leaving a fragrant aftertaste that he can only indulge when he inhales through his nose after swallowing what remains on his teeth. When your knees twitch, Jungkook pulls back to come up for air, watching your expression as your eyes fall to his wet crimson lips, the mess reaching his chin and jaw.

It takes a minute for you to gather yourself together and in your exhaustion a slow but soft smile reaches your lips.

“Does it taste good, baby?”

“Heavenly,” he whispers as he traps your body between his arms and gives you a taste, twisting his tongue deep inside your warm mouth. Your hands stroke the contours of his biceps and triceps, core aching as he groans when you lick your remainings from his chin.

You can tell he’s tired, having to do most of the manual labor. He winces as you knead his shoulders and it makes your chest ache. Even when he’s hurting, he takes care of you first. Your precious boy.

“Turn on the shower for me.”

Jungkook is aching to be inside you but he obeys, turning away to step inside the shower and twist the silver handle lodged into the tile. You stand behind him, moving away just slightly when the water – steadily turning hot – sprays over his hair and onto your breasts. Just as he’s about to turn around you circle your arms around his waist and reach into his jeans, palming his throbbing cock before pulling his jeans and briefs down his ankles. He steps out of the tight fabric, watching the remnants of Yori’s blood spiral down the drain as you kick the fabric in front of his toes.

The shower hose is harsh on his head but he can’t seem to pull away, one arm holding onto the wall for purchase, when you cushion your knees with his wet, blood-stained jeans. He can’t get any harder watching water drip from the ends of his hair down to your erect nipples, sliding down between the valley of your breasts and onto your soft stomach.

You’re delighted to see his cock twitch, taking your bottom lip under your teeth as you look up at him.

“You want mommy to take care of you, Kookie?”

He nods, exhaling as his abdomen clenches.

“You want to cum all over mommy’s tits, yeah? Make me proud?”

“Unng…” He moans in response, hips bucking forward to slide his leaking tip across your lips. He whimpers when you pull away, your smile twisting when his stomach clenches again.

You massage his firm thighs, gliding over every ripple of his muscles and over to the patch of pubic hair above his cock. When you pass your hands over his belly button, you stretch a palm up towards his face.

“Spit.”

The mole beneath his lips appear as he gathers as much saliva as he can produce on his tongue and spits into your palm. There are some traces of blood in your palm but you pay no attention to it as you place your saliva-coated palm over his cock and make a fist around the length.

“Mo-mmy,” he throws his head back, the shower head coming down his flushed pecs. Your fist begins to move slow but tight around his hardness. “It feels so good. Fuck…unng, mommy…please…”

Jungkook can cum just from your warm breath hitting his leaking tip but he doesn’t. When you lean forward and take his entire length in your mouth, tongue stretched as far as you can as you press your nose against his pubes, his jaw drops. You’re warm, wet, and fuck, so tight.

His other hand combs through your hair, reaching underneath the nape to pull your head back until your half-lidded eyes can watch his skin glisten.

With your hands back on his thighs, Jungkook expects you to move. What he doesn’t expect was you to tighten your throat before swallowing with his entire length in your mouth.

“Fuck!”

You gag around him but repeats, breathing through your nose before letting your whimpers and cries vibrate his cock. He’s about to lose it, his tightening grip causing your scalp to burn.

“You’re so pretty, mommy,” he pulls his length back just slightly to let you suction him back inside. When his entire length is warm and pulsing in the back of your throat, you swallow once more and begin moving up and down, your eyes closing as Jungkook backs your head to the tile and fucks your mouth at a steady pace.

“Wanna cum in your throat, all over you, inside you. God, you’re so perfect.” He chants, abdomen clenching when your throat tightens just right over his pink tip.

You hum, hands trailing behind his thighs and up to his firm cheeks to push him forward. His grip tightens once more when he whimpers your name, over and over again, his cock driving into your mouth with a vigor that’s bound to leave your throat sore in the morning.

The first spurt of his warm cum hits your uvula and you cough just as he slides out of your mouth and pumps himself into his fist. Watching his creamy cum dripping down the corner of his mouth intensifies his high, prompting him to burst onto your shoulder blades and over your wet breasts. He doesn’t wait for you to catch your breath before he pushes you down onto the tile, moving away the wet jeans to a corner before finding safety between your legs. His arms, on either side of your head, allows him to prop himself up to lead his tip towards your entrance.

He’d forgotten all about cleaning the blood on your neck when you’re spread for him, your hands cupping his face in admiration. Your eyes and nose are still puffy and red, but he knows the blush on your cheeks come from your need to have him deep inside until you can feel him against your cervix.

“I love you, noona. So, so much.”

You hiss slightly when he pushes inside, your snug velvet walls engulfing his cock and keeping him where he belongs. His body bows in servitude to the goddess that is you.

“I love you too,” you huff, brushing your fingers over his sculped cheekbones and mandible. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You let him take you there despite how painful it was to bear him pounding into your walls with the intent to ruin. You’re not sure how long you lay on the tile, how many times he came inside, how sore and painful your insides will be when he’s done. It was never-ending – how Jungkook muffles your wails and whines, how he pumps his cocks while pressing your shoulders down to bury himself deep, how exhausted you are by the time he’s pushing his cum back into your swollen hole. The last orgasm triggers tears to seep from the corner of his eyes which Jungkook kisses away as he reaches up to the shower cloth and waits for you to fall limp before running the soapy cloth along your body.

You’re freezing cold despite the hot water still coming down onto your boyfriend’s body and, from there, onto you. He’s quick to clean you up and wrap you in the same towel he had laid over you the first time you used his studio shower. You can barely move as he carries you to the bed and lays your damp body on the fresh linen. You can hear the sound of him ripping open a thin menstrual pad and placing it in a pair of fresh panties he fished from the shared armoire closet. He slips the panties up your legs, lifting your hips to pull the fabric over your buttocks, flashing his usual charming grin when you murmur a thank you.

He pulls the towel from your body and squeeze out as much water as he can from your long tresses, careful not to tug. It wasn’t ideal to him that you’ll be sleeping with wet hair but you’re beyond exhausted and, to be frank, he is as well. At least he’s heading to bed satiated.

Jungkook slides under the blankets and brings your body closer by your waist. He groans into your neck, his body immediately softening as the warmth of your skin and the blanket brings him the peace and comfort he craved.

“Kookie?”

“Hm?”

It takes a heartbeat for him to sense your sudden anxiety. “…I’m scared.”

“Why are you scared?” He manages to ask although sleep is weighing heavy on his eyelids.

“I don’t know.” You murmur.

Jungkook is too tired to remember if you said anything afterwards for he falls deep into slumber. As for you, your head won’t let you sleep despite your body pleading for rest. Every part of you can feel Yori’s heavy body in the freezer just several feet away. You’re not sure how you’re supposed to feel about tonight or if tonight should have happened in the first place but in Jungkook’s arms, you can’t find the smallest ounce of pity for the woman.

You close your eyes, snuggle closer into his firm chest, and try your best to pretend nothing will change. You try to forget the flash drive sitting in your bag, the possible evidence your mother may have left behind in the villa, the corpse in the garage. Most of all, you try to forget how Jungkook looked at the bottom of the staircase, slipping the corpse inside the black plastic trash bag with such ease that makes you wonder if he had done this before. He surely must have, that voice inside of your head says but you wave it away.

I don’t know.

You lied to him. For the first time in your relationship, you lied without guilt. You do know why you’re scared and it’s not because after tonight every knock on the door will cause your heart to pound.

No. It’s because you know your boyfriend – your sweet, loving boyfriend who cries watching romantic comedies on Sundays – is truly capable of murder.

[lacharcutiere]

still [sawamura daichi]

1,6k words

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part eight of i’m gone i’m gone i’m gone miniseries. you can only put these things off for so long.

JST: japanese standard time (GMT +9). EST: eastern standard time (GMT -5). EDT: eastern daylight time (GMT -4).

tings // fluff, a little bit of angst, kinda suggestive at the end ?? // i swear this søng is abøut eating øut my best friend's pussy - cøzybøy // dm, ask or comment to be added to taglist ! minors dni.

☾𓆙𓂻

— JAPAN, SUMMER 2024.

the summer passes like this: you and daichi laughing too loudly in busy restaurants and train cars; having arms around each other in the back of taxis on the way home from clubs; making instant udon at three a.m.; walking up and down the neighborhood a hundred times; laying silently side by side and not needing to say anything. it's a routine, it's familiar—it's home.

a couple weeks before you're set to head back to new york, daichi asks you a question as you lay next to him on a blanket in your driveway, staring up at the stars.

"have you decided what your plans are after college?"

"i'm gonna come back here."

"i thought you wanted to go to grad school? you can do way better in the states, especially with a degree from columbia."

you roll onto your side so you can look at him better. "i know. but i've been away too long already. i miss you."

he gives you a little smile. "but i'm right here."

"right here is pretty fucking far from america."

"hm."

"hm."

that's the end of the conversation.

— 2 AUGUST 2024. 23:09 JST.

everything happens the exact same way it has for the past three years: he takes you to the airport. you try hard not to cry; you say your goodbyes. check-in, security, buy some candy to eat at the gate. board the plane. sixteen hours later, you're in america.

one thing was different, though.

when he said goodbye, his lips touched yours.

you don't stop thinking about it for weeks.

☾𓆙𓂻

— AUGUST TO NOVEMBER 2024.

slightly relieving is the fact that amid thesis writing and too many classes and working an internship under one of your professors (that one's nice, it even earns you enough to get a small apartment a few blocks from campus), there proves to be little time to be spent missing daichi.

you finesse your schedule to fit weekly facetimes on friday evenings (new york time) and shoot random texts back and forth about your day between classes and during meals, and without much space for anything else, it's enough. good things are worth waiting for, anyway.

— DECEMBER 2024.

but then winter sem break rolls around and there's no school so it's back to having too much lonely alone time with your thoughts. you write daichi a christmas card and drop it off at the post office. it's early this year, but oh, well.

☾𓆙𓂻

a week before christmas you receive a call from an unknown number. the phone speaker crackles when you accept the call.

“hello?”

“hey.” the voice on the other end is bright, smiley, accented. it’s tōru.

“tōru? what’s up?”

“i’m outside,” he says, “come down and meet me?”

you’re a little confused, but you decide to humor him. “uh, okay, give me a minute… do i need anything?”

“bring a coat, it’s cold out. i’ll be waiting down here.” the call ends.

a few minutes later you push through the doors of the building to be met with a brisk wind and tōru standing by a payphone, grinning.

“do you have your subway pass?”

you feel inside your pocket for it and nod.

“good,” he says. “come on, we’re in a hurry.”

“where are we going?”

“downtown.”

“ohhkay?”

he laughs. “‘s not anything you won’t like, promise.”

you follow him into the nearest subway entrance, lost in thought as you push through the barrier and step onto the train. it's only when he nudges you and says, "this is our stop," that you realize you've been looking at the ground the whole time.

tōru notices how absent you seem to be and asks, "are you okay?"

"i would be if i knew what was going on," you respond.

"yeah," he says, leading you up the stairs and into the terminal, "yeah, i think you will be."

you're in grand central. tōru asks if he can borrow your phone for a second. when he hands it back to you, he doesn't say anything, just takes you by the arm smiling widely and leads you into the fray of commuters that fill the station.

"tōru!" you groan, "can't you just tell me where we're going?"

"magnolia," he replies simply.

"we came all the way here just for coffee?"

"mhm."

"tōru!" he stops walking and turns back to you, trying and failing miserably to stop grinning for a second. "what the fuck?"

"come on," he says, "you'll like it."

"we've been here before! what's so special about—"

"you'll see."

☾𓆙𓂻

coffee in grand central is surprisingly good. it's also surprisingly expensive. ah, well, it's new york. new york has much more to offer than just overpriced cafés.

such as... this. such as a laughing man that leads a remarkably pissed-off looking girl by the arm, towards this stupidly good, stupidly overpriced café.

the pair are weaving through a stream of people, almost there, and then they're there, and the girl is looking much less agitated now. she looks somewhere between crying and wanting to run in the opposite direction. thank god, she chooses the former.

he loves you. so much.

☾𓆙𓂻

"daichi?" you mean it to be a scream but your voice cracks a little and it comes out airy.

he has the exact same look on his face that tōru's had this whole time. "hi."

"oh my god, what the fuck?"

"you said it was lonely, tōru told me maybe it would be nice for you to have a date for new year's, i had some extra money saved up. so i came."

"you— what?" you look back at tōru. "you planned this? just? last minute?"

"nah," daichi laughs, "no, i meant to come visit you for christmas a while ago. i already had tickets and everything, i was gonna tell you but then i got your card and figured it might be more fun if it were a surprise."

"oh my god." that's all you can think to say.

— CHRISTMAS 2024.

you can't even explain how good it feels to wake up and walk into the living room to find daichi asleep on your couch on christmas morning, how good it feels for it to not just be you. the whole time he's been here, though, you've forced yourself not to think about the fact that he's going back home in a week and a half, forced yourself not to do anything just yet. soon, though. just a few more months.

☾𓆙𓂻

when he wakes up, you're making coffee for the two of you.

"merry christmas," he says, wrapping one arm around your shoulders. he places a card on the counter in front of you. "open it."

its message is simple.

you do as it says.

"i, uh, haven't gotten you anything yet, but—"

"daichi," you laugh, "it's okay. and um, i may have also not been able to get you anything. also because i didn't know you'd be here."

"wait, wait, i'm not finished."

"okay?"

"what do you want to do after you're done this year of school?"

"i already told you," you say, "i'll move back home."

"no, what do you want to do? you want to go to grad school, right? continue studying here?"

"no, i just want to stop waiting." you sigh, a little frustrated. "i don't wanna have to keep putting this off, it's been—"

he cuts you off. "i'll be here."

"huh?"

"i'll be here. or wherever."

"i don't get it?"

you've always loved the way daichi's nose scrunches up when he smiles. "you're the one planning on studying more, not me. not immediately, anyway. i'll go with you."

"daichi."

"what?"

"you're fucking joking."

he laughs; you look so confused right now. "i'm not. promise."

"i don't even—"

"hey."

"hm?"

"think you can handle long-distance for five months?"

"uh—" you inhale sharply. "yeah."

"good," he says, "then we don't have to keep putting this off."

it's been five months since you last let your lips touch his. it still feels just like the first time it happened.

— 31 DECEMBER, 2023. 19:36 EST.

he tries not to let you pay for dinner, but in the end, you slip the waiter your card while daichi's in the bathroom. it's his birthday; it's your treat.

and after dinner, there's that new year's eve party that tōru's been going on about. it feels good, so good, not to be there alone. it feels good to watch the broadcast from downtown and count the seconds to midnight as daichi's arms are wrapped around you from behind. the clock reaches zero; daichi kisses you hard. you're both drunk on champagne.

you watch him smile across the room at tōru, who's got his girl on his arm. the two of them look happy, too. everything is warm.

— DEPARTURE: 3 JANUARY 2025. 08:15 EST.

daichi's asleep next to you when the alarm on his phone goes off. you'll miss not waking up next to him for the next five months, but at least that's all it will be.

he makes faces at you in the mirror as you both brush your teeth; keeps trying to tug your sweater off when you get dressed. you spend these thirty minutes laughing with him until it hurts. the two of you take the subway back to grand central; make out in a corner of the terminal while he waits for his train to jfk international to arrive.

"see you in may."

— 21 JANUARY 2025.

taglist: @sakruisin-thru @softetsurou @oligbia

[marvel-and-mischief]

Lilacs and Pink Camellias

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader Words: 1500 Warnings: mentions of death, angst, visiting a grave Synopsis: You reminisce over your most treasured memories of Jack.

Lilacs: a reminder of an old love. Pink Camellias: longing for you.

💐

It was customary to bring flowers to a grave, but seeing as the grave itself was a flowerbed with a vast array of purple buds and pink petals, you didn’t think it necessary. 

The mound of earth stood in a private fenced off area on a small part of land that was technically yours now, it was written in the will after all. A little under hundred feet away was the house that was also left to you, a one storey building with all the basics, nothing fancy, it was perfect for what you and Jack needed.

Jack Daniels Loving Husband Gone Too Soon

You read over the words on the grey stone slab. Simple, to the point, just like the man. It reminded you of the first time you’d met him, the way he’d been so forward yet charming in only the way Jack could get away with.

“I need these files sorted before- why hello there, you must be new because I would have noticed someone as beautiful as you if you’d been here before.”

You stared at the man, who had thrown down multiple files on your desk, like a deer in headlights. He was wearing the most outrageous whiskey bottle shaped belt buckle you’d ever seen, and on top his head sat an oversized stetson with small studs along the brim. He looked like he’d jumped straight out of a wild west cartoon but here he was, in the flesh, waiting for a response.

“I started today,” you breathed out, earning a smirk from the man and a wink.

“Agent Whiskey, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he took your hand off the desk and left a lingering kiss on the smooth skin, “I hope I’m not being too forward, but how about I show you round this place, give you the grand tour, maybe get lunch along the way, what d’ya say?”

You chuckled to yourself and could almost hear his Southern drawl in your ear. It had hypnotised you from day one, rendered you incapable of ever saying no to him. Lunches became dinners, which became late nights rolling into early mornings. 

Your shoulders hunched up at the sound of thunder in the distance and you looked up to notice greying clouds in the sky that hadn’t been there when you first arrived. It would rain soon, and the overgrown grass would grow higher and then you’d have to find the energy to cut it soon. It would be for the first time, the grave only a couple of weeks old. 

You felt a shudder run through your body at the thought of the upkeep, keeping the weeds trimmed, the flowers watered in the dry summers, the gravestone clean. Would you have to do this forever? Would there come a day where you would stop? Was that socially acceptable? 

You didn’t know how to keep flowers growing, had never had a garden to call your own until Jack came along, but you somehow needed to keep the lilacs and the camellias around the grave growing. They had been in the bouquet at your wedding and in the vases on the tables at the reception. Everyone had commented on how pretty they looked, including Jack.

“How’re you doing, darling?” Jack spun you around effortlessly before pulling you back into his chest to continue dancing. This was the first time you had had the chance to speak to him, the rest of the reception having been taken up by playing host, making your way around the guests, ensuring everyone was happy with the music choice and the buffet food.

“I’m happy, tired, but I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled genuinely, mesmerised by the look of love in Jack’s eyes as he swayed you to the slow song playing in the background. The lights of the dance floor had been lowered, twinkling fairy lights along the wooden beams of the barn the only source of light, meaning everybody but Jack was in darkness.

“I told you to enjoy yourself, stop trying to please everyone,” Jack pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth and pulled you closer to rest his temple against yours. His chastising was in jest, he knew you’d be like this, you always thought of others before yourself, and he wouldn’t want you any other way.

“I am enjoying myself,” and you were, you couldn’t believe how well everything had turned out, “because everyone is happy.”Jack snorted, pulling back to give you a disbelieving look.

“My wife.”

You grinned, a chuckle escaping your lips as you prepared to say the words for the first time.

“My husband.”

Those flowers would remind you of the most important day of your life so they had to stay.

You felt the first droplets of rain fall on your head. You wrapped your cardigan around you tighter and turned in the direction of your home, hurrying for shelter. 

You reached the wrap around porch that allowed you to look out over your garden. The vegetable patch to the left was created when you moved in shortly after your wedding day. Jack helped you plant winter vegetables, squash, carrots, you even tried pumpkins for Halloween but that hadn’t worked out, much to your amusement. 

Straight ahead was the path to Jack’s grave, in your direct line of sight when you opened the front door every morning to collect your mail. It would be a reminder of how fragile life was, how quickly it could change and to never take anything for granted, especially love. 

You sat on the porch swing, watching the pitter patter of rain turn to fat droplets that hit the porch roof with loud smacks. It was raining like this when you got the phone call telling you about Jack’s mission gone wrong. You’d never forget that day.

Ginger ran through the door of your office like her life depended on it, short hair askew and a cell phone in her hand. You were lounging on the loveseat, shoes kicked off and feet up, lunchbox resting on your lap as you ate a sandwich and counted down the minutes until you’d have to be back behind your desk. 

You nearly laughed, your lips were starting to curve upwards but you froze at the look on Ginger’s face. It was pity, and sadness and horror all rolled into one. You didn’t understand something was terribly wrong until she opened her mouth to speak.

“Whiskey, he’s… oh god, I’m so sorry.”

The words, the delivery of them. Your heart dropped, you swear you felt it happening, it was pushing against your ribs, trying to rip through your chest, that’s how much it hurt. You were choking on your own throat, or was it the sandwich you hadn’t quite managed to swallow? 

Ginger was waiting for a reaction, prepared for a barrage of tears or a complete breakdown but she witnessed neither. Instead you put your hand out for the phone in her hand, silently demanding you hear the news from the scene.

Taking the phone, you held it up to your ear and heard heavy breathing on the other end.

“Jack?” Your voice broke as you awaited the news.

“No, it’s Tequila. Whiskey’s gone. There’s nothing we could do.”

It was obvious to say it, but rain made you think of tears, which made you think of heartbreak, which in turn made you think of that day. You think it always will.

The storm was getting worse, darkening the sky so much you could barely see over the porch railings but you still managed to spot the headlights of a car heading towards you. It drove through your gate, onto your land and parked up near the steps leading to your home. 

The man that stepped out of the car held a bag of takeout in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other. He kicked the car door shut and ran up the steps, pausing in surprise to see you sat out in the cold.

“Darlin’ you best get inside before you catch your death,” he grinned and took a seat on the swing beside you, “I wouldn’t be a good husband if I let that happen now, would I?”

You chuckled and saw a glint of mischief in Jack’s eyes, those eyes that always looked at you with love and adoration.

“I was at the grave before it started raining.”

“Ah, and how was I?”

“Still dead.”

“Good, and that’s exactly how I want to stay. If it means spending the rest of my life with you.”

You sighed in relief. No Statesman to bother you, no criminals to catch, no more putting your lives on the line to save the world. Just you, Jack and your little plot of land, until the end of your days. 

Permanent tag list: @phoenixhalliwell @autumnleaves1991-blog 

[saturngrqy]

Friday Night Lights// GD

A/n; Hiii guys so my phone got taken and this is the first post I’ve done on a computer.. I can’t tell if I like it or not. Anyways this is gonna be cheesy af and I alr wrote something like it on my wattpad but something about football!gray is just :’) Also I have no idea how football works so fair warning

Wc: How do ya’ll find this shit anyways imma guess around 1k

Warnings: Just cheesy basic shit, fluff;’)

“I’ll see you tonight, right?” Grayson questioned for the millionth time.

“Yess,” I huffed. I grabbed my stuff off my desk as the bell rang, signaling the end of the day. Grayson stood towering over my desk before one of his friends called his name. He looked in their direction and nodded, before turning back to me. 

“I gotta go, but you have my jersey correct?” He asked.

“For the hundredth time, I have everything, and I’ll be there on time I promise,” I replied. 

He smirked down at me before turning around. Right before he left out the door he turned back to me and gave me a soft wave, making a blush rise to my cheeks. I put my laptop back in my backpack and rose out of my chair, slinging the heavy bag over my shoulder. I waved at my teacher and told her to have a good day (a/n YALL BETTER APPRECIATE UR TEACHERS) She responded with a soft smile and a “you too,” before I finally left the class. 

I headed to the parking lot, entering my car. I turned my car on and drove out the parking lot, heading home.

-

I finished doing my hair in the mirror, a simple ponytail with some strands pulled out in the front. I went back to my room, grabbing Grayson’s jersey off my dresser. I slipped it on, noticing how it went down past my knees, even with a sweatshirt on underneath. I pulled the hoodie out from under the jersey, also pulling my hair out underneath as well. 

I glanced at myself in the mirror before taking my phone out to send a snapchat to Grayson.

I posed in front of the mirror, doing a really awkward smile and a peace sign with the caption “I’m wearing itt”. 

He responded within a minute, a timer picture of him in the locker room with Ethan with a poorly drawn heart over the picture. I smiled to myself at the heart, something about the way it was so sloppy made my heart warm. I just sent back a picture of me doing duck lips before putting my phone back in my pocket. 

I put on some cherry scented lip balm and a champagne toast scented perfume from bath and body works. I fixed my hair in the mirror before heading back downstairs. I got out of my car, pulling out of the driveway to head to the school/

- 

I arrived, texting my friend Alexis that I was there. I had some friends, but I wasn’t wildly popular or liked. Grayson however, was extremely popular and was known and loved by almost all the kids, not just for his looks but also his charming personality. He was especially popular with the girls, as you can probably assume. Many girls did not like me simply because I’m dating him. People were shocked when Grayson asked me out, and in all honesty, so was I, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.

I met Alexis at the gate to the field, and we found a spot in the student section right at the front so we could get the best view. We asked Alexis’ boyfriend, Josh, who was coincidentally a good friend of Grayson’s, to save our spots while we went and got concessions. 

We walked to the concessions with our arms clung together, giggling jokes into each other’s ear before landing a spot in the line for the concessions. 

I looked at my phone, noticing a text from Grayson. 

“I say we switch it up tonight and go to Monty’s,” It read.

Grayson and I always had this post-game ritual where we would go out and get dinner. Typically, Grayson and I would tag along with his team and their girlfriends and eat at a local diner. We ate there so much they had a spot reserved for us every Friday during football season, and they knew all of our names and our orders. However this time, Grayson suggested Monty’s.

I texted back, “Why? I mean I don’t mind Monty’s but normally we go to the diner”. 

He responded quickly. “Idk, just wanna spend alone time with my girl, plus Monty’s has a new veg milkshake we have to try”.

I giggled before replying. “Sounds good to me”.

I put my phone back in my pocket. I looked back up to see Alexis smirking at me. “What?” I asked, confused. 

“He is so whipped.” She replies, snorting

I roll my eyes. “He is not, he just knows how to treat a woman.”

I hear her laugh, coughing a small “simp” under her breath. I rolled my eyes again.

We grab our drinks and snacks, me getting a bag of Doritos and a cherry coke while Alexis got a Dr. Pepper. We walked back to the stands, sitting back in our spots.

-

“And Grayson Dolan scores his third touchdown of the night folks!” The announcer tells, excitedly. I scream and yell Grayson’s name, catching his eyes as he turns to me and points, blowing a kiss. I pretend to catch it, putting my hand on my heart. He shakes his head and laughs before returning back to his team. 

There was only about 10 minutes left of the game, and we were beating the other team 20- 7. (a/n don’t kill me idk how this shit works) The other team had almost no chance of coming back after Grayson’s last touchdown. I jumped up and down, shivering, rubbing my hands up and down my arm to make myself warmer. I turned to Alexis and shook her shoulders. 

“This is so excitinggg,” I said giddily. She laughed and agreed. I turned back to watch the last couple of minutes. 

The buzzer was called, and the game was officially over, with Grayson’s team crushing the other. I almost jumped out of the bleachers, running to the side of the field. Grayson’s team cheered before he ran over to me, hugging me over the fence. 

“You did so good baby,” I whispered in his neck. 

“Thank you,” He responded kissing my cheek. I turned to him, planting a passionate kiss on his pink lips. 

“Meet me at my car so we can go get dinner,” I told him, holding his cheek in my palm. I gently tapped his cheek twice before he ran off with a nod back to his team. 

-

I waited inside my car with the heat blasted for Grayson. Suddenly the door opened, revealing a very sweaty Grayson in his team sweatshirt and sweatpants. He gave me a kiss on the cheek before going to put his stuff in my trunk. He came back in with a wide gorgeous smile on his face. 

“You scared me,” 

“I’m sorry my love. Are we ready to go?”

I pulled out of the parking lot with a smirk, driving off towards the vegan restaurant. We sat in the car listening to Man on the Moon III, Kid Cudi’s newest album that Grayson and I were obsessed with. Tequila Shots played in the background as Grayson’s hand found my thigh. 

I looked down at it before glancing up at him, noticing he was already staring at me. I blushed before looking back to the road. 

“You know, this was probably your best game yet,” I broke the silence. 

“I know right? That’s the best I’ve played all season. E said that with that performance, I’ll have college coaches looking to recruit me left and right,” He responded excitedly, making my heart flutter at his passion. 

‘I’m sure they will be, babe. You make me so proud,” I gushed.

He squeezed my thigh as a response. We pulled onto the side of the street in front of Monty’s. I unbuckled my seatbelt, about to open the door before I noticed Grayson sat still, staring at me. 

“What?” I questioned. 

“Nothing, I just love you,” He said out of the blue, making my stomach do flips. 

“I love you too,” I giggled. “Now lets go get some fucking milkshakes!”