#interacting with my art if it so does happen but I’ll have to be ready to block 😝

[kunasthiast]

My God (4)

Just when you know your week couldn't get any worse, the universe really decides to bring out the worst in you.

You might as well be near your boiling point and do some dumb decisions... or not?

a/n: sorry that this took a while for me to post – a lot has happened to my life lately lol dfhdshfs no worries, i'll be back to regular updates by next week!

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: banters + angst, Yakuza AU, Fake Marriage Word Count: 4.4k All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

1 • 2 • <- previous

The morning sunlight streamed through the cracks in the curtains, casting dancing shadows on the walls of your bedroom. Your phone vibrated on the bedside table, jolting you awake from a very, very restless sleep.

The lingering effects of the past few days — the unexpected announcement and the whirlwind of events — had left you feeling exhausted and unsettled. Why does your life seem to deteriorate each day since that fucking party and announcement?

You rubbed your eyes groggily, still processing the reality of your situation. It’s that hard to move on, okay? As you swung your legs out of your comfy bed, your foot brushed against the plush rug beneath, grounding you for a moment before the chaos of the day.

Reaching for your phone by the bedside table, your heart rate spiked as you opened it — staring so long at the text messages waiting on your screen. It is indeed a lot of emotions already this morning. I’m just hungry… right? I haven’t eaten anything since last night.

Sukuna > good morning, princess ;) > so, where are we secretly gonna get married? > gotta have it on my calendar, u know I’m a busy man

A wave of dread washed over you. The reality of your situation hit you with full force, the weight of the impending ruse pressing down on you, and how the fuck you will deal with this. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your phone and laid back down face-first on your bed to bury your face in your pillow. 

At least this pillow is soft enough, you thought as you continued to pound your head on it to at least try to escape the overwhelming sense of dread you’ve been having these past few days. The cool, soft fabric offered very little comfort, but at least it was something you could control. Or not.

You’re not ready to deal with anything this early in the morning, please. 

After a few minutes of futilely attempting to disappear into your pillow, you pulled yourself together and sat up, swinging your legs over the edge of your bed again. The creak of the bed frame seemed to echo in the silent room.

You opened your phone in hand, your fingers hovering over the screen as you contemplated your reply to the bane of your existence, as you often call him in your mind. 

You > will a civil wedding do? > i’ll have it scheduled around noon   > and please, no more morning texts 

You put your phone down and stand up, stretching your aching muscles. Comfy bed, comfy pillow, but still giving me these aches, you thought. The tightness in your shoulders and back was a reminder of the amount of stress you have. You ran a hand through your hair, feeling the tangled strands pull against your scalp.

“Holy shit,” you muttered as a sudden realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You immediately grabbed your phone, opened your calendar app, and scrolled through it with a sense of dread gnawing at your gut. And there it was — just as you feared. Yes, you did forget something.

There’s a fucking art gala tonight. Sponsored by your father.

Which meant… your father would be there, Sukuna would be there, everyone in the family would be there.

Worst of all? Satoru would be there. You just knew it.

Yeah, you’re skipping this one.

“There’s no way I’m going to the gala tonight,” you mumbled to yourself as you closed your phone and placed it screen down on the bedside table.

You walked towards your ensuite bathroom, and the cold tiles beneath your feet sent a shiver through you. Your disheveled reflection greeted you in the mirror, your hair sticking out in every direction, eyes slightly puffy from the lack of sleep. 

“I can’t deal with that hellhole tonight. Dealing with Sukuna is already enough of a headache,” you whispered to yourself, running a hand through your hair in a futile attempt to tame it. The strands slipped through your fingers like silk, but they stubbornly refused to cooperate. 

Your mind then wandered to whatever chaos you might be missing this evening. Yeah, there’s something that will happen tonight, you thought with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You gave up on your hair and splashed cold water on your face. The icy shock jolted you awake, but it did little to quell the unease bubbling inside you.

—

Sukuna’s footsteps echoed sharply against the marble floors, each step resonating through the silent, opulent corridors of the mansion. The walls, adorned with priceless art and gilded fixtures, only accentuated the coldness that seemed to seep up from the floor, biting through the soles of his expensive shoes. He paid it no mind, his thoughts already far ahead, focused on the confrontation that awaited him.

A faint buzz in his pocket broke the silence and paused his strides. Sukuna pulled out his phone, his eyes narrowing as he read your curt reply. He couldn’t help but chuckle in amusement at your attempt to try and take control of your situation like a kitten trying to catch the laser light but ended up tripping over nothing. 

He pocketed his phone, his smirk fading as he neared the heavy oak doors of your father’s office and knocked. Without waiting for a response, Sukuna pushed the door open. The air was thick with tension, the kind that clung to your skin and made it hard to breathe. But, not to Sukuna. 

Your father, Akira, sat behind his massive desk, the steam rising from a cup of tea curling into the air like tendrils of smoke. The faint aroma of peppermint filled the air, usually calming, and added unease that hung between them.

"Come in, Sukuna,” Akira’s voice was both tired and commanding. Sukuna stepped into the office, his gaze sweeping across the room, taking in every detail — the subtle twitch in Akira’s jaw, the way his fingers tightened around the teacup.

Yeah, he’s still brooding over last night’s drama, Sukuna thought.

"Sukuna," Akira began, his tone laced with disapproval, "I've heard about the incident last night."

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his expression a perfect mask of indifference. "It was nothing," he replied, his voice calm and almost dismissive. "Just a minor misunderstanding."

Akira’s eyes narrowed to slits, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Minor misunderstandings can have major consequences," he warned. “The fight with the Zenin clan was reckless, and you know it.”

Sukuna shrugged, his posture relaxed, almost bored. "It was necessary," he replied, his tone nonchalant. "They were crossing a line."

Akira slammed his palm onto the desk, the sudden sound echoing through the room. “Just what line are you crossing, Sukuna?” He demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Just because I’ve named you as the next head of this family doesn’t save you from your dumb actions. I can take that back anytime. You’re becoming too reckless, and it’s only a matter of time before your actions come back to bite us all,” he warned. "You can't afford to make any more mistakes."

Sukuna didn’t flinch at the outburst, clearly expecting this reaction from the current family head. He leaned forward, his gaze locking onto Akira’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down the older man’s spine. “I have everything under control,” he said, his voice steady and cold. The calm in his tone was more terrifying than any thread could have been.

Akira sighed, massaging his temples with his fingertips and evident frustration. "You think you have everything under control,” he muttered, more to himself than to Sukuna. “But you're forgetting one thing."

Sukuna tilted his head, waiting, his eyes narrowing slightly and silently waiting for the rebuke.

"Your actions affect more than just yourself," Akira reprimanded, his voice regaining its firmness. "Your choices have consequences for the entire family. I won't stand by and watch you dismantle everything I've built."

Sukuna took a sit down, legs crossed, the chair in front of Akira’s table, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "You're getting emotional," he said with a hint of offense.

Akira’s jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm being realistic,” he shot back, his voice rising. “You need to start thinking with your head instead of your ego."

Sukuna chuckled a dark, humorless sound. "And you need to stop babying me like I'm some helpless child,” he retorted. “I know what I’m doing. My reckless actions are the reasons you chose me over your daughter. Or have you forgotten that?”

For a moment, the room fell into a tense silence, the words hanging in the air like a loaded gun. Akira stared at Sukuna, his expression a mixture of anger and reluctant acknowledgment. He knew that the young man was right in a sense, but it didn’t make them any easier to swallow. 

After what felt like an eternity, Akira spoke again, his voice calmer but no less tense. "Yes, your past actions played a part in your selection,” he admitted, his gaze never leaving Sukuna’s. “But, that does not give you a free pass to do as you please without regard for this family. We are not invincible, Sukuna, and your recklessness will catch up to you eventually.”

Sukuna’s smirk softened slightly, a rare moment of sincerity flashing in his eyes before it was quickly buried beneath its usual bravado. "I get it," he said, his one more subdued, though still laced with that infuriating confidence.

"Good," Akira nodded, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly and his voice still stern but with a hint of relief. "Because this family can’t afford any more of your antics. Not now.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes, raising his arms in a playful gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright old man,” he drawled, his smirk returning in full force. “I'll try to keep my antics in check."

As their conversation shifted to the upcoming gala tonight, Sukuna’s thoughts began to drift. He listened to Akira’s plans with one ear, already calculating his next move.

By the time he left the office, a sense of satisfaction settled in his chest, and couldn’t help but chuckle in satisfaction. He had defused the situation, at least for now. But he knew that old man would be watching him closely, waiting for him to slip.

It’s a game of patience, Sukuna mused. A game I’ve been playing for years. And I’m so close to winning.

—

“Well, fuck,” you muttered under your breath, staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror. You were bathed in soft, ambient light that did little to calm your nerves.

As much as you hated the idea of attending the art gala tonight, you didn’t have the heart to miss whatever you felt would happen. The feeling is too strong to dismiss, okay?

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart as you adjusted your hair for what felt like the hundredth time. It had been at least 40 minutes since you started getting ready. Usually, you would take less than 30 minutes to get yourself to look presentable, but tonight was different. The clock on your wall ticked away relentlessly, reminding you that you were on the verge of being late.

With a resigned sigh, you puckered up your lips to readjust your dark red lipstick before accepting the inevitable. The deep red dress you had chosen clung to your frame, the fabric shimmering subtly with your movements. It was a beautiful dress, one that made you feel powerful yet vulnerable all at once. I look so good though, you thought.

But, even as you admired the way it complemented your skin, it didn’t ease the knot of anxiety in your twisting in your stomach.

“Just a few more minutes,” you whispered as if convincing yourself could somehow delay the night’s events. Grabbing your clutch, you cast one final glance at the mirror, hoping to see confidence reflected back to you. Instead, all you saw was a woman teetering on the edge of uncertainty. 

The drive to the gala was a blur of Tokyo’s city lights and quiet streets. You could feel the nervous energy bubbling under your skin, but you forced yourself to focus on the road.

When you finally arrived, the gala was already in full swing. The grand hall was filled with people, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. Art pieces adorned the walls, each more elaborate and expensive than the last. Normally, you would have taken the time to appreciate them, but tonight, they were just background noise to the chaos in your mind.

The air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the undercurrent of power plays masked by polite smiles. You wove through the crowd, trying to find a quiet corner where you could collect yourself.

But before you could escape, the grand hall plunged into semi-darkness. The sudden shift sent a ripple of unease through the crowd, punctuated by the commanding, firm voice you know all too well. You froze, your pulse quickening as the tension in the room spiked.

“Where have you been?”

You turned sharply, your breath catching in your throat as you faced your father, Akira, whose presence was as imposing as ever. His eyes bore into yours with a mixture of frustration and concern. He didn’t need to raise his voice to command attention; the weight of his words alone was enough to make your heart pound.

“I—” you started, but he cut you off with a curt wave of his hand.

“This is not the time for excuses,” he said, his tone cold and clipped. “Do you realize how important tonight is? You were expected to be here on time, not wandering in whenever you felt like it.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, trying to maintain your composure. The tension between you and your father had always been thick, but tonight it felt suffocating, more suffocating than your last confrontation. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” you replied, your voice strained. “Isn’t that what matters?”

Akira’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he spoke. “Your presence is the bare minimum. I expected you to support the family, to be an asset, not a liability. You can’t keep running away from your responsibilities.”

His words struck a nerve, but you refused to back down and remain as composed as ever. “I’m not running away,” you retorted, your voice rising despite your efforts to stay calm. “I’m trying to deal with everything you’ve dumped on me, including this ridiculous charade with Sukuna.”

Akira’s eyes flashed with anger, his voice lowering to a dangerous whisper. “You’re lucky I chose him over you,” he hissed. “Do you think you could handle the pressure of leading this family? You can barely keep your emotions in check.”

The sting of his words was like a dagger to your heart, the familiar ache of inadequacy tightening its grip on you. You clenched your fists, fighting the urge to lash out. 

“I won’t tolerate any more of your outbursts tonight,” Akira continued, his voice dripping with authority. “Do what you’re supposed to do, and stay out of trouble.”

You didn’t respond, knowing that anything you said would only escalate the situation. Instead, you turned and walked away, the weight of your father’s expectations pressing down on you with every step. The air felt heavy, almost stifling, as you made your way through the crowd, trying to clear your head.

But as fate would have it, your search for solitude was cut short by an all-too-familiar voice that made your blood run cold. 

“Ah, there’s my favorite fiancee.” Gojo Satoru’s drawled, his tone oozed with arrogance and mischief, his presence as infuriating as ever. 

You stiffened, fingers tightening around your glass as you slowly turned to face him. Satoru stood before you, exuding his usual air of effortless confidence. His stark white hair contrasted sharply with the tailored black suit he wore, and those piercing blue eyes behind his sleek sunglasses sparkled with the same irritating delight that always set your teeth on edge. 

“Satoru,” you replied, barely able to keep the venom from your voice. The sight of him is enough to make your skin crawl, your eyes narrowing in distaste. You absolutely can’t stand him.

“Don’t look so thrilled to see me,” he teased, leaning in closer than you liked. “You know, we’re supposed to be making this work. Or did you forget about the message I sent you last night?”

You glared at him, refusing to be baited. “Why are you here, Satoru? Shouldn’t you be off charming some other poor soul?”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You do admit you’re a poor soul,” he said in amusement. “But funny you mention that — I was trying to reach you, but it seems someone decided to block my number.”

You crossed your arms, meeting his gaze head-on, “I don’t have to justify myself to you.”

Before Satoru could reply, a low, dangerous voice sliced through the air, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Am I interrupting something?”

Sukuna’s presence is always an overwhelming one — dark, powerful, and very impossible to ignore. He stepped into view, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly as they flicked from you to Satoru. His sudden appearance even made Satoru’s jaw clench in thinly veiled annoyance.

“Sukuna,” Satoru greeted, his tone light, but there was a sharp edge to it. “Just having a little chat with my fiancee.” He emphasized the last word, as if laying claim to you in front of Sukuna. Oh, if only you know, Satoru, you thought.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered on you for a moment as you stared right back at him, and then his eyes shifted back to Gojo. “Doesn’t look like she’s enjoying it,” he remarked, his voice calm but carrying a subtle challenge.

You know the tension is too tense, and you were caught in the middle of it all. Before you could try to break the ice, Sukuna continued with his tone still calm but now laced with unmistakable authority, “Well, if you’re done, I’d like to have a word with the princess here.” 

His gaze bore into Satoru, making it clear that he wasn’t asking for permission. Satoru's smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t back down, his posture remaining relaxed, though his eyes betrayed the simmering annoyance beneath.

“Princess, huh?” Satoru’s lips curled into a mocking smile as he looked back at you. “Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from your royal duties.” His tone was laced with sarcasm, but there was a flicker of something darker in his eyes before he finally stepped back.

“Don’t let me keep you, darling,” Satoru said, his voice deceptively sweet, but the undercurrent of hostility was unmistakable. He brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours as he left, the brief contact sending a jolt of irritation through your body.

As he walked away, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, your entire body tense from the exchange. Sukuna remained silent beside you, his presence as imposing as ever. You could feel his gaze on you, heavy and unwavering, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes just yet.

Finally, after a long moment of silence, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and with a hint of amusement, “A civil wedding, really? How is that discreet enough?”

You finally looked up, meeting his eyes, searching for any sign of mockery. But what you saw was something else — curiosity, maybe, or perhaps a challenge. As he always has.

"It’s the easiest way to make it legal without drawing too much attention," you replied, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "Besides, it’s quick, and we don’t need an audience."

He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “And here I thought you’d want something grander, with all the bells and whistles,” he teased, but there was an edge to his tone as if he was testing you.

You shook your head, frustration bubbling beneath the surface. “We’re not doing this for real, Sukuna. It’s a ruse, remember? The less attention we draw, the better.”

He considered your words, his gaze never leaving yours, as if weighing your resolve. “So you think a quick signature and some paperwork will fool everyone?” he asked, his tone soft but laced with skepticism.

“It’s not about fooling everyone,” you countered, your voice firm. “It’s about keeping things under control until we figure out the next step. This marriage is just the beginning, not the endgame.”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. “You’re serious about this,” he observed, sounding almost impressed. “I didn’t expect you to be so... committed.” 

You held your ground, refusing to back down despite the proximity. “I’m not naive, Sukuna,” you replied, your voice firm. “I know what I’m getting into.”

He watched you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours as if looking for something hidden beneath the surface. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he finally relented. “Alright, princess,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “But you might want to ease up on the seriousness. You’re making this sound more like a business transaction than a scheme.”

You rolled your eyes, feeling the tension in your shoulders beginning to dissipate, just slightly. “That’s because it is a business transaction, Sukuna. And I’m pretty sure you’re not one to shy away from deals.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and dark, and it sent a strange thrill through you. “True enough,” he conceded, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “But don’t you think it’s time to relax? We’ve done enough plotting for one night.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest as you looked up at him. “And how exactly do you propose we do that?”

Sukuna’s smirk widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have a few ideas,” he said, leaning in slightly. “How about we start with a drink? You look like you could use one.”

You hesitated for a moment, but then nodded, realizing he was right. You could definitely use a drink. “Fine,” you agreed, uncrossing your arms. “But just one.”

Sukuna’s grin was almost predatory as he led you to a secluded corner where a small bar was set up. The bartender looked up as you approached, and Sukuna ordered two drinks without even asking you what you wanted. He seemed to know exactly what you needed—something strong, something that would take the edge off the evening’s events.

When the drinks arrived, Sukuna handed you a glass, and you took it, eyeing the amber liquid inside. You took a cautious sip, the warmth spreading through you almost instantly. It was stronger than you expected, but somehow, it was exactly what you needed.

“To our little charade,” Sukuna said, raising his glass in a mock toast.

You couldn’t help but smirk as you clinked your glass against his. “To whatever the fuck will happen,” you replied, before taking another sip.

The alcohol burned pleasantly as it went down, and you could feel yourself beginning to relax. The tension that had been coiled tight within you all evening was starting to unravel, and you found yourself leaning back against the bar, feeling a little more at ease.

Sukuna watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face as you drank. “Feeling better?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“A little,” you admitted, swirling the liquid in your glass. “But don’t get any ideas. This doesn’t change anything.”

He chuckled again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. “Of course not, princess. But it doesn’t hurt to enjoy the moment, does it?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn,” he shot back, his tone playful. “It’s a wonder we haven’t killed each other yet.”

“Give it time,” you muttered, though the edge in your voice had softened.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” you said, finishing off your drink and setting the glass down on the bar. “But let’s see if you can keep up first.”

Sukuna’s eyes gleamed with amusement as he signaled the bartender for another round. “Oh, I intend to.”

The drinks kept coming, and before you knew it, you were both laughing more easily, the sharp edges of your words softened by the alcohol. The tension that had weighed so heavily on you earlier seemed to melt away, replaced by a surprising sense of camaraderie.

“Tell me,” Sukuna said after a while, leaning closer, his voice conspiratorial. “What was the real reason you chose me for this scheme of yours? Was it because I’m the only one who can handle you?”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. You were just the least annoying option.”

“Least annoying?” he repeated, feigning offense. “I’m hurt, princess.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice behind it. “Oh, don’t be so dramatic. You know exactly why I chose you—you’re ruthless and cunning, and you don’t get sentimental.”

Sukuna’s gaze intensified, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. “And you think that makes me the perfect partner for this little game of yours?”

You held his gaze, refusing to back down. “It makes you dangerous,” you said quietly. “And that’s exactly what I need. I kind of trust you, too.” It’s the alcohol speaking, is it?

For a moment, the playful banter between you faded, replaced by something heavier, more charged. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension, a challenge hanging in the balance.

Then, with a slow, deliberate smile, Sukuna leaned back, the moment of intensity passing. “Well then, princess,” he said, his tone lightening once more. “Let’s see how dangerous we can really be.”

The night wore on, and the drinks continued to flow, loosening your tongues and blurring the lines between ally and adversary. You found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, the weight of the world temporarily lifted by the alcohol and Sukuna’s surprising wit.

By the time you realized just how much you’d had to drink, it was too late. The room was spinning slightly, and your movements were less coordinated than they should have been. 

But somehow, it didn’t matter. The knot of anxiety that had been twisting in your stomach all night had finally loosened, replaced by a warm, hazy contentment.

Oh well, might as well enjoy the rest of the night, right?

[aswegoalong72]

As We Go Along FAQ

Who are you?

I don’t like to put my name on the internet, but you may call me GB; those are my initials! I’m 25, and chronically ill. I have three cats, and I like to cook, clean, and do art when I’m not working on this novel series! I follow from @tolbachik, and my art blog is @tolbachik-art. (More about the novels under the cut!)

About the novels

What’s the story about? As We Go Along is a multi-novel series documenting the history of the Lyratet, and their history from the discovery of a safe passage to the northern hemisphere of their homeworld, to the eventual settlement of the galaxy.

So, science fiction? Yes, although I try to keep it as realistic as possible. No warp drives, no replicators, no energy swords; just good old regular physics and technology! Expect relativistic travel between stars, quantum computing, fusion power, and O’Neill cylinders as the most advanced stuff you’ll see. What even happens in it? A lot! I try to portray day-to-day life, with less of a focus on the science-y side of things and more on personal interactions and character growth. Ultimately, it’s about finding your place in the world and universe, and loving one another.

How many books are there going to be? One collection of short stories, three “prologue” novels at about 72k words each, with three larger novels following them and one last short story collection. Originally, it was going to be a stand-alone with only one book (the book I’m currently writing), but I’ve since expanded the universe very heavily. There’s a lot to explore!

72k word prologue novels? That’s already a lot! How many words will the regular novels have? At least 200k each, if not more. This is a saga, documenting their entire history and every little detail in it. It’s going to be a lot, but chances are I will cut the larger books into halves for easier readability, and to not deter people from getting into them. Still up in the air, really!

When can we expect to read it? When it’s done. I’m chronically ill, so it takes me awhile to get even typical household chores done, let alone a book! That being said, as of 1/1/24, I’m close to halfway done with the first book. I will be starting the prologues when I can, at which point I will start releasing them slowly. That way I have time to get the others finished!

Are there any other aliens in it, besides the Lyratet? Yes. I won’t elaborate further, though; I don’t want to ruin any surprises! Is it gay or trans? I mean, I guess? The gender binary on Reyal doesn’t exist in the same way it does here on Earth; “male” and “female” are very loosely defined. Physically, the only difference between the sexes is genitalia and a bit of height/face shape. On top of that, being equal to one another is an important part of life, so there’s practically no discrimination for relationships not following traditional “male/female” as on Earth. The author (hi) is gay and trans, so I guess if you count that too, yes.

What kind of “read” is it? Slow. I focus a lot on worldbuilding and character development. The Lyratet live a slow-paced life, and as such, I wish to reflect that in my work. I do try to keep it entertaining and interesting, though.

Is it family friendly? Yes and no. I would give it a PG/PG-13 rating, personally. It covers some very dark topics, like groups committing terrorism, some heavy violence, swearing, and there is some drug use. On the same note, there aren’t any references to sex really apart from a couple maybe wanting to have a child together. I’ll have a comprehensive list of warnings once I go to publish it!

Can I read it early? No. I will need beta readers at some point, but I won’t release any early versions to the public until it’s ready.

Where does the name "As We Go Along" come from? This Monkees song! I feel it describes the whole feel of the project very well. I have playlists for the story, but I'm going to refine them more before I put them out here.

Where does "72" in your blog title come from? You'll see :)

What inspired you? Silent Running and folk music from the 1960s/1970s! Also, The Millennial Project by Marshall T. Savage.

What are your politics? Will they be reflected in the books? I'm a communist. I don't know much theory, but I do know that our current system is unsustainable. I am anti-colonialist and anti-imperialist. My ideology is rooted in compassion; I believe in taking care of one another and building the best life we can. Yes, although I plan on being realistic with things.

About the Lyratet

Lyratet? Lyrat? Which one is it? Lyrat is singular, like human. Lyratet is plural, like humans. This is in Trel, a diplomatic language made to facilitate goodwill between nations on their homeworld, Reyal. Pronounced lee-raht, lee-raht-ett. Lyrat stands for child, as in “Child of Tenav” (Tenav a Lyrat), and Lyratet is “The Children of Tenav” (Tenav a Lyratet). “The” is usually defined by the suffix “te” in Trel, but the word Lyratet is special in this case.

Who are the Lyratet, even? They’re a cold-loving, communalistic, and herbivorous race from a planet slightly larger than our own, orbiting a K7V class star some 41LY away. They’re also incredibly religious. What conflicts should I expect to see? On Reyal, warfare isn’t very common. Religious wars died out centuries ago, primarily due to both sides not wanting to lose any followers before reaching “salvation”, whatever that may mean to them. Slaying one another is considered exile worthy, since they’re descended from prey animals. Keeping together and keeping each other safe is above all else. Nowadays, conflicts are settled through heated debates and international court.

I mean like, conflicts in the book. Man vs. nature for the first four including the prologues, man vs. man for the last few books. Of course, it isn’t just all that; different conflicts will arise.

Can I make my own Lyrat character? Give me time to make a comprehensive historical timeline and get some reference sheets, but yes. I won’t consider them canon, but you do you! Just don’t like, claim the entire species concept as your own or sell designs based off it. Typical stuff, y’know?

I don’t think herbivores can become civilized. What’s your explanation? Starchy, fast growing, calorie dense tubers. That, and their social structure and their early languages helped to keep them safe from predators. If you ask them, though, many would probably say Tenav, their star and main god to many, guided them.

Why are they religious? Are you? Surviving the early days of civilization wasn’t easy, and they made sure to thank whatever powers they believed in (mostly Tenav) for making it through the day. Since then, their religious fervor has grown heavily. Atheists are in the minority, with only ~700,000 out of Reyal’s surface only 2024 population of ~13,000,000,000 not believing in anything. Also, no; just agnostic. Three eyes? Why? That's overdone! I will be honest, the Lyratet are based off of a design I got yeaaaaars ago from a friend, @bubbykat! I've tweaked it a bit since then, giving reasons as to why they evolved like that. Reyal has many, many fearsome predators. Through evolution, they took up an extra eye in the center of their head, giving the impression that they were more dominant than they actually were. It doesn't move, and is more vestigial than anything.

What’s Reyal like? Reyal has no seasons, and is divided into three “bands”; Northern Hemisphere, Equator, and Southern Hemisphere. It has a 33 hour long day, two moons, and a thick atmosphere. It isn’t tidally locked to its star, and has an orbital period of 3.27 months. It’s about 1.28x the size of Earth. It's dominated by numerous freshwater and saltwater lakes, with only one major ocean in the Southern Hemisphere. There are large cyclones above both poles, where the temperatures regularly drop to -153f on the surface.

If they don’t have seasons, how do they keep time? Nowadays, they use Tenav’s solar cycle and pulsars to keep time. As of 2024 in the Gregorian calendar, it is 23,514. It adds up as follows: their first cultures emerged 231,388 years ago, they count in base 8, and the average solar cycle of Tenav is 23 years long. So, it all adds up to the current date being 23,514! Still working on how to subdivide it.

What other objects are in their system? Order from Tenav is as follows: Syt, Inner Belt, Kouteb (dwarf), Omat (dwarf), Reyal, Alkan, Olena, Lejag, Outer Belt.

Reyal has two moons; Ro and Velgae. Alkan has one, Fel. Olena has six major; Heva, Thrallit, Eynaje, Selex, Lipeya, and Prasto.

[courtofmatchups]

Hello! I was wondering if I could get a matchup? I’m bi so any gender is fine. I use she/her pronouns as well. For personality I’m creative, introverted, and individualistic. Though I’m introverted, around my friends/when I’m comfortable I can be quite talkative and humorous. However, I definitely treasure my alone time the most. Im a very big homebody and can be very hermit introvert sometimes. As for bad traits, I am sometimes the worst pessimist when it comes to myself. I’ll be fine motivating others but then when it comes to me I live by the “be ready for the worst and you wont be disappointed” As for hobbies escaping to new worlds while reading books/comics, watching movies, and playing rpg video games. My favorite genres are fantasy and sci-fi, though I do love a good classic from time to time. Apart from that, I love working out. My interests on the other hand are art focused. I’m currently in art school working with mostly digital mediums, though I sometimes work with traditional. I love my practice and everything including, game, web and interaction design, video art and visual effects, 3D modeling and character design, and digital illustration. Sometimes I whip out graphite and ink. A list of random likes: coffee, chai tea, dark chocolate, rock/blues/jazz/80s pop/soundtrack music, cafe art shows, arcades, comic book stores, purple, thai/Indian/Chinese food, roller blading to classic rock, quality alone time. A random list of dislikes: people i am unfamiliar with and have to make small talk with, the biting cold, rain, non fiction, staying too close to reality and not being allowed to daydream/imagine/roam freely in my thoughts, physical touch, overly crowded areas. I think that’s it thank you!

It seems to me you've captured the heart of...

The Lone Flame:

Lance Ira

(A/N: WOW. This took forever to write. I had university assignments that are a higher priority for me 😳)

I hope you're into slow burn because this burn will be incredibly slow. It is worth it in the end, however, since he realizes how similar you are. You give off some major black cat energy, and I feel like Lance would quite appreciate that. He's also a bit introverted, so the first time you'd meet is during a class you're both basically conscripted into taking. You might laugh, but the way you'd actually get to know each other happens in the most "Wattpad" way possible: the two of you are paired up for a project kind of like what happens in his own route.

As he gets to know you, he takes more interest in what you're into. Of course, some of the more modern things you're into are a bit lost on him, but he's more than willing to hear about them. I headcanon that he also has an appreciation for art, so whatever artwork you'd make he'd absolutely adore. He may even ask you to draw him and Gruscha if you're okay with it. He'd even keep some of your pieces for himself.

If he does make it to Earth, I think he'd also like your more modern interests. Heck, I think he'd even do some of your favourite activities with you.

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

(Earth AU because, why not?)

To say that the experience with your paramour on Earth was bizarre is putting it quite lightly. The ubiquitous nature of technology here is dizzying to him, much like magic was to you when you were unceremoniously thrown into Saligia. It took him a while to learn about the magicless world around him, but he managed in no time with your help.

Once he's got his footing on Earth, you took him to places you thought he'd enjoy: restaurants, parks, arcades, as well as some comic book stores. He quite enjoyed his time there, mostly because he was with you. Of course, he was still a bit lost, but he still enjoyed himself. His favourite activity was roller skating at an empty park with you.

You: All right, over there?

Lance: Yep. I must say, no matter how much I do this, I can never get enough of the thrill

You: Tell me about it. By the by, what do you think of my playlist?

Lance: I quite like it! It has all the classic rock songs you and I like, but it feels a bit different

You: That's because I made the playlist with the two of us in mind

Lance:

Lance: Hahaha! You're a precious one, you

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

[bardicious]

My only problem with the Umbrella Academy fandom is the likely huge amount of antis. That’s probably going to be annoying.

[star-anise]

Ok, I'll bite. What *is* the difference between Bridgerton and Jane Austen in relationship to their skirts?

Oh! Not in their costuming, just in their general *waves hands* everything. It's a comment I see a lot about Bridgerton: "Well, it's not much like Austen, is it?"

That's because there are 200 years of literary history between the two, and they have not been empty!

This ended up being 1.5k words, but when I put stuff under a readmore, people don't actually read it and then just yell at me because of a misread of the 1/10th of the post they did read. Press j to skip or get ready to do a lot of scrolling (It takes four generous flicks to get past on my iPhone).

First I'll say my perspective on this is hugely shaped by Sherwood Smith, who has done a lot of research on silver fork novels and the way the Regency has been remembered in the romance genre.

The Regency and Napoleonic eras stretch from basically the 1790s to 1820, and after that, it was hard to ignore the amount of social change happening in Britain and Europe. The real watershed moment is the 1819 Peterloo Massacre, where 60,000 working-class people protesting for political change were attacked by a militia. The issues of poverty, class, industrialization, and social change are inescapable, and we end up with things like the 1832 Reform Act and 1834 Poor Law.

This is why later novelists, like Charles Dickens and Elizabeth Gaskell, are so concerned with the experiences of the urban poor. Gaskell's North and South has been accurately described as "Pride and Prejudice for socialists."

So almost as soon as it ended, people started to look back and mythologize the Regency as a halcyon era, back when rich people could just live their rich lives and fret about "only" having three hundred pounds a year to live on. Back when London society was the domain of hereditary landowners, when you weren't constantly meeting with jumped-up industrialists and colonials.

Jane Austen is kind of perfect for this because she comes at the very end of the long eighteenth century, and her novels show hints of the tremors that are about to completely reshape England, but still comfortably sit in the old world. ("The Musgroves, like their houses, were in a state of alteration, perhaps of improvement. The father and mother were in the old English style, and the young people in the new. Mr and Mrs Musgrove were a very good sort of people; friendly and hospitable, not much educated, and not at all elegant. Their children had more modern minds and manners.")

Sherwood Smith covers the writers who birthed the Silver Fork genre in detail, but there's one name that stands out in its history more than any other: Georgette Heyer.

Georgette Heyer basically single-handedly established the Regency Romance as we know it today. Between 1935 and 1972, she published 26 novels set in a meticulously researched version of London of the late 18th and early 19th century. She took Silver Fork settings and characters and turned them into a highly recognizable set of tropes, conventions, and types. (As Sherwood points out, her fictional Regency England isn't actually very similar to the period as it really happened; it's like Arthurian Camelot, a mythical confection with a dash of truth for zest.)

Regency Romance is an escapist genre in which a happy, prosperous married life is an attainable prize that will solve everything for you. Georgette Heyer's novels are bright, sparkling, delightful romps through a beautiful and exotic world. Her female characters have spirit and vivacity, and are allowed to have flaws and make mistakes without being puritanically punished for them. Her romances have real unique sparks to them. She's able to write a formula over and over without it becoming dull.

And.... well. The essay that introduced me to Heyer still, in my opinion, says it best:

Here's the thing about Georgette Heyer: she hates you. Or, okay, she doesn't hate you, exactly. It's just that unless you are white, English, and upper class (and hale, and hearty, and straight, and and and), she thinks you are a lesser being. [...W]ith Heyer, I knew where I stood: somewhere way below the bottom rung of humanity. Along with everyone else in the world except Prince William and four of his friends from Eton, which really took away the sting. But my point is: if you are not that white British upper-class person of good stock and hearty bluffness and a large country estate, the only question for you is which book will contain a grimly bigoted caricature of you featuring every single stereotyped trait ever associated with your particular group. (You have to decide for yourself if really wonderful female characters and great writing are worth the rest of it.)

So Heyer created the genre, but she exacerbated the flaw that was always at the heart of fiction about the Regency, was that its appeal was not having to deal with the inherent rot of the British aristocracy. I think part of why it's such a popular genre in North America specifically is that we often don't know much British history, so we can focus more on the perfume and less on the dank odor it's hiding.

And like, escapism is not a bad thing. Romance writers as a community have sat down and said: We are an escapist genre. The Romance Writers of America, one of the biggest author associations out there, back when they were good, have foundationally said: "Two basic elements comprise every romance novel: a central love story and an emotionally satisfying and optimistic ending." A strong part of the community argue that publishing in the genre is a "contract" between author and reader: If it's marketed as a romance book, there's a Happily Ever After. If there's no Happily Ever After, it's not romance.

It's important for people to be able to take a break from the stresses of their lives and do things that are enjoyable. But the big question the romance genre in particular has to deal with is, who should be allowed to escape? Is it really "escapist" if only white, straight, upper class, able-bodied thin cis people get to escape into it? In historical romance, this is especially an issue for POC and LGBTQ+ people. It's taken a lot of work, in a genre dominated by the Georgette Heyers of the world, to try to hew out the space for optimistic romances for people of colour or LGBTQ+ people. These are minority groups that deal with a literally damaging amount of stress in real lives; they are in especial need of sources of comfort, refuge, community, and encouragement. For brief introductions to the issue, I can give you Talia Hibbert on race, and KJ Charles on LGBTQ+ issues.

Up until the 1990s, the romance genre evolved slowly. It did evolve; Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan's Beyond Heaving Bosoms charts the demise of the "bodice-ripper" genre as it became more acceptable for women to have and enjoy sex. The historical romance genre became more accommodating to non-aristocratic heroines, or ones that weren't thin or conventionally pretty. The first Bridgerton book, The Duke and I, was published in 2000, and has that kind of vibe: Its characters are all white but not all of them are aristocrats, its heroines are frequently not conventionally beautiful and occasionally plump, and its cultivation to modern sensibility is reflected in its titles, which reference popular media of today.

This is just my impression, but I think that while traditional mainstream publishing was beginning to diversify in the 1990s, the Internet was what really made diverse romance take off. Readers, reviewers, and authors could talk more freely on the internet, which allowed books to become unlikely successes even if their publishers didn't promote them very much. Then e-publishing meant that authors could market directly to their readers without the filter of a publishing house, and things exploded. Indie ebooks proved that there was a huge untapped market.

One of my favourite books, Zen Cho's Sorcerer to the Crown, is an example of what historical romance is like today; it's a direct callback and reclamation of Georgette Heyer, with a dash of "Fuck you and all your prejudices" on top of it. It fearlessly weaves magic into a classic Heyer plot, maintaining the essential structure while putting power into the hands of people of colour and non-Western cultures, enjoying the delights of London society while pointing out and dodging around the rot. It doesn't erase the ugliness, but imagines a Britain that is made better because its poor, its immigrants, its people of colour, and the foreign countries it interacts with have more power to make their voices heard and to enforce their wills. Another book I've loved that does the same thing is Courtney Milan's The Duke Who Didn't.

So then... Bridgerton the TV show is trying to take a book series with a very middle-of-the-road approach to diversity, differing from Heyer but not really critiquing her, and giving it a facelift to bring it up to date.

So to be honest, although it's set in the same time period as Austen, it's not in the least her literary successor. It's infinitely more "about" the past 30 years of conversation and art in the romance genre than it is about books written 200 years ago.

[adatheromcomaddict]

How You Meet the Harry Potter Boys

Hi everyone!! Here is the promised HP stuff!! 

How you meet the HP boys, from my Wattpad, @adatheromcomaddict

⚡⚡⚡

Harry Potter:

You were walking down the halls, carrying a book Professor Snape had given you as he had said you weren't doing well in his class. Your friend, or more like fellow student, Harry Potter, had seen you walk out of class looking upset, I mean Snape did yell at you in front of everyone. He briskly followed behind you, and placed his hand on your shoulder. You two had met before, but never talked or interacted much more than a simple "Hello."

"Y/N? Right?" He asked.

"Yes, that's me." You replied.

"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry for how Snape treated you, but if it makes you feel any better, it's happened to me on multiple occasions." Harry explained.

"Thanks, Harry. As-a-matter-of-a-fact, that does make me feel a bit better." You giggled, and Harry started blushing lightly.

"Brilliant."

Let's just say, you walked away happier than before.

Ron Weasley:

(Sorry, I know this one is quite short)

"And this is Ron Weasley," My new friend Hermione introduced.

"Hello. I'm Y/N." I said.

"Hi, Y/N. I'm Ron, as you know." He said, clearly embarrassed.

I giggled in response.

"I'm going to go sit over with Harry." Hermione winked at me, before walking away.

Ron and I talked for around ten minutes, and then I realized I needed to get ready for next class. As I walked away, I heard him mutter, "Bloody Hell.."

Draco Malfoy:

"Y/L/N!" A boy screamed, from across the courtyard. I instantly recognized his voice as the one and only Draco Malfoy.

I spun around quickly. "What, Malfoy?" I said blankly, realizing I probably should've said nothing, as I didn't want to pick a fight.

"I wanted to give you this.. you left it in class." He handed me a small locket.

"Draco, thank you so much! This.. this was my grandmothers.." I explained.

"Oh.. well I figured it was important." As he noticed more people around us, he whispered in my ear, "Look offended, no one can know about this."

I made a hurt looking face, in response to what he told me.

As he strode away, and started actually picking on people, I realized then and there, that maybe the Slytherin bad-boy wasn't as bad as I thought.

Fred Weasley:

"George?" I asked.

"Fred."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." I replied, blushing.

"It's alright, I've gotten it for a long time." He said.

That certainly made me feel better about it.

"Well, uhm, I was coming to ask you, if I could borrow your defense against the dark arts notes, mine kind of got pumpkin juice spilled on them.." I explained.

"Sure. Just make sure Professor Snape doesn't see you copying them down." He said, handing me them from a stack of books, and papers.

"Thank you so much, and he won't. I'll do it in the common room, and have these back to you by tomorrow's breakfast."

George Weasley:

You were trying to pull a prank on your friend, but you needed a professional or more experienced student to give you advice.

I thought about who I knew that was good at pranks, and it came upon me.

George Weasley.

I asked his little brother, Ron, where I could find him, and he told me to look in the courtyard, possibly creating fireworks.

So, I thanked him, and walked over to the courtyard, and I found him, sitting there without Fred for once.

"Uh, hi, George. I'm Y/N." I explained.

"Hello Gorgeous, I'm George, as you know." He said jumping up from his seat, which made me blush.

"Well, uh, I need help with a pr-"

"I've got fireworks, Whoopi cushions, glitter bombs, and so much more, what do you need?"

For the next hour, George and I talked about prank supplies, and good ideas I could do on my friend.

Neville Longbottom:

(Sorry, this one is short also)

You both shared an interest in herbology, and got paired up in Professor Sprouts class.

"Hi, Neville, right?" You asked.

"Y-yes. That's m-me." He responded.

"Right, I'm Y/N. Should we get started on the assignment?"

"Yes, yes. Right away."

For hours on end, you two passionately talked about different plants, and wrote out a beautiful report on Mandrake's.

Cedric Diggory:

(If you're in Hufflepuff, I'm sorry because this might not make 100% sense)

I was a close family friend of the Weasleys, and when they asked if I wanted to tag along to the Quidditch World Cup, I couldn't decline the offer.

We were in the woods, and the group was walking up to a middle aged man.

"Sorry Amos. Some of us had a bit of a sleepy start. This is Amos Diggory everyone, he works with me at the ministry." Mr. Weasley explained.

And then, one of the most handsome boys I had ever seen, dropped down from a tree.

"And this strapping young lad must be Cedric, am I right?"

"Yes sir."

We then all continued to walk, and Cedric came towards me.

"Y/N, right?" He asked.

"Yes, that is me. I feel like I've seen you once before." I said.

"Yeah, I think we are in the same year. Fifth?"

"Mhm." I smiled.

"We better keep up with the rest of them." Cedric said, and we ran towards them.

Tom Riddle:

(This is going to take place back when he was first discovering the chamber or something, so it wouldn't be like when he came back for Harry)

"Tom. Tom, stop." I shouted, slowing down a tall boy.

"What, Y/N." He said, turning back around to face me.

"I wanted to know why you are always sneaking around the campus at night time." I whispered in his ear.

"It's none of your business. And how do you know I'm doing that?" He asked.

"Well, I kind of might do the same thing. It's hard for me to fall asleep, so I like to kind of stay out at night a bit sometimes."

"Oh, well... interesting. Anyway, if you really want to know.. it's kind of..."

"No, Tom, you don't need to tell me, it's okay. Have a good day, Tom."

And with that, I left a grin on my face.

[tarosin]

the great adventures of y/n and ranboo

this is an extra part to the great adventures series

summary: part two to the angst imagine (the not so great adventures of y/n tommy tubbo jack and ranboo) it’s a happier ‘ending’ please read what is written in bold

this is an “alternative ending” around 15 years into the future this doesn’t mean this is actually how the series is going to end im writing it now and including it as part of series as their friendship is already established i can confirm y/n and the group are going to have a happy ending when the series eventually comes to an end this also does not mean the series is anywhere near the end i plan on continuing the series as vlogs come out, i feel the need to confirm this now love between y/n and ranboo in this imagine is completely platonic

it had been about a month since you last streamed whereas ranboo continued to stream a few days after the fallout as he wanted to make sure you were going to be okay. even though ranboo knew this huge fallout would eventually happen, it still hurt him, especially since he knew there was no way to prevent it, the four of you in the same house mixed with the stress of being some of the most-watched content creators made living rather difficult. it was like walking on eggshells as you didn’t want to interrupt someone's stream, then there was the additional stress of obsessive fans finding out where the four of you lived, you still remember that day very vividly. you were sat in between tubbo and ranboo watching the office whilst Tommy was in an interview when you received a message from your mod.

Chris: hey y/n I received this message earlier I don’t want to scare you, but maybe get the locks changed. someone sent a message claiming this is your address *image of message from ‘fan’*

it didn’t take long for tubbo and ranboo to receive a message from their mods saying the same thing

“holy shit...”

“chances are Tommy has the message too. we shall go check around the house when Tommy is done with the interview.”

luckily no one ever showed up to the house, but the fact some people were so obsessed to the point they found your address was enough to put everyone in the house on edge. and now it was just you and ranboo in the house. you didn’t feel safe as even though ranboo promised to not let anything happen, you didn’t wanna risk it.

“we should move. there’s no point in having such a big house for two people, what are we going to use the extra space for heh? hide and seek with people who have our address. no thank you. I say we move leave this mess behind and start completely over, hell I’d feel safer in the us and that’s saying something”

ranboo agreed the house didn’t have the happiest memories attached to it anymore, it hurt walking past the hallway as it would bring back the memory of him crying into the crook of y/ns neck whilst tubbo left the house.

“let’s do it, I’ll do an early stream then we can look for houses. go take a shower. I’ll stay close to the door so you’re safe, then you can stay in my room whilst I stream, you can join me if you would like.”

“you’re being very protective all of a sudden...let me guess you got the message from our mods announcing the obsessive fans are at it again?”

“go take a shower.”

“no.”

ranboo ended up picking you up, carried you to the bathroom and turned the shower on before putting you on your feet.

“quick shower I’ll see you later.”

and with that he left the room shutting the door behind him, 30 minutes later you got changed and followed ranboo to his room ready to join him whilst he streams

“hey boo, can I join you? I kinda wanna get into streaming again.”

“I'm so glad you asked, I was going to do a face cam stream, if that’s okay?”

“of course.”

you grabbed his mask and glasses whilst he locked the door so you were both safe. “here you go.”

“thank you.”

the pair of you started the stream and it was honestly going well, you were having so much fun you forgot about all the negative things currently going on, you began to understand why ranboo continued streaming as for those 2-4 hours of streaming it felt as though everything was back to normal. 3 hours later the two of you ended stream and Twitter went crazy. tweets ranged from fans talking about how ranboo was streaming with you, how Tommy was in chat, and how tubbo was modding as people who mentioned anything about their address being leaked were banned by tubbo. the one thing that caught ranboos eye was fan art and a picture of you both from the stream captioned ‘they’re platonic soulmates your honour’ ranboo went as far to like, retweet and comment on it.

ranaltboo: glad you liked the stream it was great having y/n back, think I might make them play tattletail next stream

definitelynoty/n: isn’t that the Furby game that terrified you in 2021? bring it on boo!

Twitter went crazy over this interaction, you had finally come back to social media after months of being inactive, and it looked like you were here to stay. a month later you and ranboo moved out of the house and sold it to your aunt and her wife and their three adopted children, you explained the situation and even changed the locks for them all before they moved in.

“Please do tell us if anyone shows up who shouldn’t be. we changed the locks as you were aware- oh hello little one.”

you noticed one of their children decided to cling onto your leg

“I like your hair it’s colourful!”

“Indeed it is.”

“WOAH A GIANT!”

the little girl let go of your leg and ran to ranboo asking to be picked up, unsure of what to do he looked towards you. however, you were too busy laughing about the fact he was compared to a giant.

“I'm so sorry uh if you want to pick her up you can, you don’t have to.”

“pick me up, tall man... I want to be taller!”

ranboo ended up standing next to you with an arm around your waist whilst the child sat on his shoulders happily playing with his hair.

“ranboo do not drop that child.”

“I didn't- I didn't plan on it y/n.”

eventually, it was time to leave and the child reluctantly let go of ranboo.

“bye-bye!! hope to see you soon!”

soon enough you were at a smaller house, far away from the old house, leaving behind the negative feelings. it could only get better, a week later the pair of you had settled into the new house, it finally felt like home. you and ranboo were now streaming full time again, safe to say the two of you were thriving and closer than ever.

“so I’m thinking if I hit the sub-goal today I’ll let chat pick what colour I dye my hair.”

“make it higher, and I’ll let you cut my hair.”

“Are you being serious? oh my god!”

a few minutes later you took to Twitter to announce you were going live.

y/n: kidnapping children in the sims with ranboo psst check the subgoal.

within 20 minutes you had hit the sub-goal, chat ended up picking another random neon colour for your hair.

“right hair dye and the cutting stream will be this weekend, now let’s go back to kidnapping.”

tubbo, tommy, and jack felt awful for what happened and went back to the house where you used to live, hoping to see you there so they could apologise, tubbo knocked on the door only to be met by a young child.

“my sister watches you on twitch!”

“oh that’s lovely.. are y/n and ranboo here?”

an older woman came to the door.

“oh no, I’m sorry dear they both moved out, but they left this box and said to give it to you if you returned.”

“do you know where they moved to?”

“I'm sorry dear, I'm not allowed to tell you that information for safety reasons.”

“I understand, thanks anyway.”

they ended up going back to jacks where the three of them had been staying.

“We should open the box.”

tubbo opened the box and emptied the items onto the floor, inside was the rocks y/n handed tubbo from every trip, photos of the group, a necklace y/n had gifted to Tommy a day before the argument, and a hat y/n had taken from jack during a trip to a zoo.

“what the fuck!”

“holy shit!”

“they really kept all these in hopes we would come back?”

“and now we’re too late.”

it was now the weekend you and ranboo were ready to stream, you stood leaning on ranboo who was significantly smaller than you as you lowered the chair he sat on.

“starting stream...now.”

after the starting soon intro played, you explained what was happening to any new viewers or people who didn’t watch the stream.

“so I’m about to become Edward Scissorhands...I love that film can we watch it later?”

“yeah mhm sure!”

you didn’t know this but your ex best friends were watching and ever so often would show up in the chat.

“so boo, what are we doing with your hair today?”

“just a trim please darling?”

“This is y/ns hairdressers you get what I’m capable of!”

you ended up doing a pretty good job of cutting ranboos hair, even he was impressed.

“I didn’t doubt you for a minute!”

“mhm sure thing please don’t mess up my hair tall one!”

soon enough you had the dye on. 45 minutes later you left to wash it off, leaving ranboo to entertain stream,

“chat I think I missed some of their hair it’s okay, I own scissors, I’ll just cut it.. speaking of they did a great job, didn't they? I honestly expected them to mess up.”

a few minutes later you joined ranboo again and spent the next few hours talking with chat. tubbo, tommy, and jack stayed the entire time. they loved the fact you and ranboo were able to stay close after what happened, Tommy noticed you were still wearing the necklace he got you many years ago and spammed them chat with him tubbo and jack

Tommy: THEYRE WEARING THE NECKLACE!!

jack: so what? they clearly don’t wanna talk to us.

tubbo: shut up listen to them.

“chat why are we spamming platonic soulmates?”

“they’ve been saying it all over Twitter, look on trending y/n.”

you started to blush slightly at all the amazing artwork soon enough the stream came to an end, after saying goodbye the pair of you sat together going through fan art. unfortunately the one that caught your eye was this one twitter post where the artist had created a drawing of a piece of paper with you, ranboo, tommy, tubbo, and jack, however the paper was ripped separating you and ranboo from the others, captioned ‘it was never meant to be’ this clearly upset ranboo as he took off his mask and glasses placing them on the desk before going straight to his bed.

“boo…are you okay?”

“Are you tired of me? are you going to leave next?”

“what? no of course not! I could never get tired of you, why do you ask?”

“everyone else has left..i thought they cared about us, i knew it would happen eventually and i couldn’t stop it, i’m sorry, y/n, please don’t hate me.”

you sat on the edge of the bed looking down at the floor,

“come here.”

you watched him roll over to face you.

“you know there’s no one else who I'd rather spend the rest of my life with, right…if i hated you i wouldn’t have moved house with you. it’s not your job to fix everything and make everything better, you’re a streamer for christ sake not a therapist.”

“i guess so.. can we watch that thing you were on about for ages.”

“edward scissorhands? “

“mhm!”

you could tell he wanted to be distracted, so you agreed and put the film on, towards the end you began to get upset due to how overwhelming everything was.

“Why are you crying?”

“poor Edward.”

“come here.”

ranboo pulled you into a hug you laid there crying into his chest, he knew that wasn’t the reason you were crying, but he wasn’t about to make you tell him, luckily it didn’t take long for you to stop crying as ranboo quickly distracted you.

“ranboo..”

“yeah y/n?”

“I feel bad i didnt realise how much pressure was on you whilst everyone was arguing.”

“Hey, it’s okay, is that what’s upsetting you?”

“mhm.”

“don’t blame yourself, i’d do it all over again to keep you safe and happy..then again i didn’t do a good job on keeping you happy.”

“you did..you were always there for me even when i gave up on social media, you shared your room with me after i started receiving creepy messages from that obsessed fan, hell you even went on adventures with me even though it was clear you hadn’t been sleeping, just so we could spend time together and forget about what was happening. you mean a lot to me boo.”

“i love you.”

“i love you too bud, I’m tired.”

“go to sleep, it’s been a long day.”

“okay.”

“you just staying there?”

“yes.”

“oh, oh okay, goodnight.”

about a year later the two of you were still thriving, ranboo got you a promise ring a few months earlier.

“heh what’s this for?”

“as your best friend i promise to stay by your side and keep you safe and make sure that you’re happy, in other words you're stuck with me till the end of time.”

“boo…i really don’t know what to say.. thank you so much!”

“you don’t have to say anything!”

you ended up going out to buy him a promise ring when he started the stream and decided to take your cousins with you now that they were a little older. ranboo was doing a facecam stream when the door slammed open revealing you covering your three younger cousins ranboo not realising you were hiding them from the camera, instinctively stood up covering the camera

“ranboooooo!”

“yes you three and y/n ,what do you need?”

“we would like to watch a film!”

“Okay, i’ll go put one on, y/n will you entertain chat?”

“sure thing boo boy!”

once they left you sat fixing your hair forgetting you were wearing the ring chat noticed this and went crazy, so did Tommys group with tubbo and jack.

tubbo: that’s a ring, right??

jack: yeah looks like it.

Tommy: holy shit I always thought if anyone was gonna get married it would be tubbo and y/n, they were inseparable.

tubbo: hilarious.

jack: it could just be a ring, no one mentioned marriage tommy!

Tommy: we should congratulate them.

jack: at least let them explain fucking hell.

soon enough ranboo came back into the room,

“sorry one of them found it hilarious to steal my glasses...”

“they’re little shits i swear to god but i love them.”

you both noticed chat going crazy and both looked at each other before laughing.

“i'm sorry, i can’t take you serious in the mask and glasses!”

“i can’t take you serious with neon hair, but here we are!”

“rude!”

you and ranboo quickly put an end to the rumours,

“no we’re not engaged or married, it is a promise ring. no they’re not our children, they’re y/ns cousins they just spend a lot of time here..chat stop calling me and y/n parents and comparing us to phil that’s not..that’s not how it works okay!”

“parent arc!”

“y/n, don’t encourage them!”

“it’s a little bit funny!”

soon enough the bit came to an end and eventually ranboo ended the stream.

“hey boo look what i got you”

you handed him a little black box, inside was a ring similar to yours

“i promise to always stick around and be here for you”

“oh my god”

ranboo tackled you into a hug thanking you several times for his rings. you and ranboo were living your best life meanwhile jack, tommy, and tubbo were stuck dealing with the guilt of what happened, but they’re weren’t giving up that easy. they wanted you both back, that’s when you received a notification, tommyinnit has sent you a message request: hey y/n can we talk..please?

taglist

@dumb-chaotic-bi-energy @uselesssapphickitten @l0ver0fj0y @etheriaaly @xx-smiley-xx @hawarun @kylobensgirl @cawcaw-pretty-thing @reverse-iak @renleicrashed @augustine-is-joy @c1loudee

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[usuallydeepcoffee]

Ooh, Sam/Steve/Nat is just the best ship.

They are three of the best and hottest characters in the MCU.

Every two person combination is also great - samsteve, samnat, and romanogers are all top-tier ships.

They actually spend a lot of time together and care about each other deeply. Don’t get me wrong, I love ships where the two people never speak to each other onscreen as much as the next person (winterhawk my beloved) but there’s just something different about a ship with some actual canon meat on its bones.

Two years as fugitives living out of the quinjet and cramped, sketchy safe houses. It’s like one long “there was only one bed” scenario.

In fairness to the “where’s Bucky” commenters on that fan art, I do think “why is Bucky here?” every time I see something about the cap quartet. Though of course I’m not rude enough to say that on the post.

(P.s. thinking about them makes me regret that we never saw much of the adventures of the Avengers between Age of Ultron and Civil War, because the lineup we saw at the end of AoU [Steve, Nat, Sam, Rhodey, Wanda, and Vision] was amazing.)

I love the smell of fresh, immaculate takes in the morning!

I swear, samstevenat is the only poly relationship I can realistically picture, because they all have such a strong connection with the other two characters.

It’s like a rubik’s cube, but no matter where you turn it the faces come out perfectly solved. You have SamSteve, who have their meet cute + shared life experience and a deep sense of duty; you have SteveNat, who go from ‘coworker I like but don’t fully trust’ to ‘only person I can trust in this line of work and have shared multiple near death experiences with’; and then you have SamNat who sure, have less interactions, but still a relationship is there. Like I’m ready to bet that convo about Redwing in cacw happened more than once. And oh to see their reunion after Steve breaks team cap out of jail… No way Sam didn’t make some kind of remark at Nat betraying them (after all, last time he saw her, she was on the other side, taking away his wings and fighting them).

I can’t think of any other mcu trio that has the same range.

And yes, we do have plenty of evidence that these three are besties, but there’s so much missing time (especially between aou and cacw and cacw and iw) that you basically have free reign over the what the how and the where.

The aou-cacw time skip is perfect for consolidating the relationship/feelings: they live together, they work together, they train together for a whole year!! There is so much that could happen!! Undercover, fake relationship trope! Jumped-in-front-of-a-bullet-for-you-and-now-I’m-not-waking-up trope (Steve, I am looking at you)! Saved from becoming an Avenger pancake by flying Sam trope (for his and his back’s sake I’ll picture Nat in that one).

Also maybe it’s just me, but the movie nights that fandom love so much sound more likely with the Avengers 2.0 roster? Wanda literally uses TV shows to cope, Vision is just curious by nature and does whatever Wanda does, Steve has a long ass list of movies to catch up on… it’s almost inevitable that they spent some down time together watching tv shows or a movie. All it would take is Wanda watching something on her tablet while she cooks in the common room and one or two avengers strolling in and boom. Tradition set.

And then of course there’s the post-cacw, pre-iw time skip which is PRIME for things happening. I mean, these three just came from a pretty big rift, they are on the run for TWO ENTIRE YEARS, the living quarters are small and cramped, you can’t tell me they didn’t catch each other in various states of undress (Sam and/or Steve seeing Nat’s bruises after the events of the black widow movie!!), or that they didn’t have some middle-of-the-night, half-whispered conversations. Maybe Nat even told them about Yelena and her fake family. Maybe Steve told them some things about his life pre-ice.

Also, it’s a shame Sam canonically doesn’t know about Madripoor because it’s the perfect place for something debauched yet revealing of romantic feelings happening. Then again, this is what fanfic is for.

(Still, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t sell my organs for a 9 episode series of Sam, Steve and Nat eluding international surveillance, saving the world and being total badasses…

Plus a post credit scene of t0ny telling friday to delete all footage of the trio while secretly keeping a pic of bearded!cap because apparently he’s canonically that deranged about steve)

[interact-if]

Day 5 of the interviews! let’s give it up for Ligia! :chinhands:

Ligia, author of Love the Guard, Be the King

Latino Heritage Month Featured Author

Mathias' heart has been bleeding since his father, the former King, decided to punish you for his mistakes. As the youngest child of a lesser bourgeois, you were raised in the castle, between the King’s cruelty, the Queen’s friendship, and  Mathias’s kindness (or supposed kindness?).

Now, more than twenty Carnivals since your arrival, the King is dead and the Queen’s sickness  worsens each day. As the azure taint spreads in the kingdom and the Opalean Wars come to an end, it’s Mathias’s time to sit on the throne.

Will the docile Prince become a kind King, a violent Monarch, or a ruthless Tyrant? Will you have any say in it? And how much will your relationship change?

Love the Guard, Be the King Demo | Author’s Kofi | Read more [here]

Tags: historical, romance

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT)

Q1: So, tell us a little bit about the projects you’re working on!

With pleasure! Right now, I’m working on three main projects. My personal Visual Novel project, “Love the Guard, Be the King,” a second Visual Novel I’ve been secretly working on with a good friend for the past 10 months or so, and I also have an ongoing book series about hot, quirky supervillains—but I’ll focus only on the first two cause that’s what we’re here for, right? Hahaha.

LtGBtK is a really intimist experience, focused more on the MC’s and RO’s character arcs and how we can change depending on our experiences and how we feel about them. The entire plot happens in only four days, but it takes into account almost 30 years of history—basically Mathias’s (the only RO) entire life!

“Crystal Library” has mystery, romance, magic, 6 ROs, and a ton of memorable scenes already. I’m working on the graphics and the programming for this one, while Coco Nichole (@dreamybard), one of my favorite writers ever, is the brilliant mind behind the plot and all of CL’s characters! I can’t wait to share this one with you all. Romance is optional in both. :)

Q2: What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

What I LOVE and FEAR about all types of interactive fiction is how it invites players to, on a much deeper level, be part of the narrative. When reading books, we all work hard to translate beautiful sentences and scenes into images in your head. We interact with it, yes, but when playing IFs, we also explore the narrative in a different way; we have so much more agency over what happens! We sometimes have different paths to choose from, beautiful illustrations to unlock, or character traits that change depending on our choices… it’s amazing, and, IMO, it’s a very unique way to experience narratives.

But it’s also very complex, very demanding, and it can easily get out of hand if you give the players too many options/branches to follow, mainly when working with small teams or, in my case for LtGBtK, alone. *takes a deep breath* I just hope I’m doing a good job. .-.

Q3: What has been something in your project you’ve had to do a weird amount of research for?

Besides programming lol basically everything. For LtGBtK, I’m trying to create this weird fantasy with a modern-medieval society (?), so I’m constantly researching medieval customs, traditions, tools, and weirdly specific stuff like socks. Did people wear socks in the medieval era? What were their playing cards made of? When was ice cream invented? How did they shave? How did kids become knights? What were their perfumes made of? And soaps? What did they eat? How different was their wine? And what kind of materials or slang or fabrics can I use, and what can I change without completely breaking immersion?

 And then I shove all that into a pot and adapt it to a world where Mathias can literally put the world on fire with a wave of his hands. ♥

Q4: Which of your characters is most like you? How?

I think I’m a mix of them all, but mainly Mandra and Rafa (one of my main characters in my supervillain books). They have wildly different personalities and stories, but those two have clear views of the kind of person they want to be, they’re not afraid of their soft sides, and they are ready to work hard to become good at what they love. Rafa has a specially strong connection to her brother, like my siblings and I, and Mand is often locked in an eternal state of wanting to be alone and wanting to be surrounded by family/loved ones, so I guess we meet there too!

Q5: Does your heritage influence your characters as you create them? (How? Why or why not?)

Yes! There are the very basic ways, like habits, names, food, family dynamics, settings (mainly in my books, which are all very Brazilian), and Holidays. And then there’s a more personal way that I’m not entirely sure I can explain because I lived in Brazil for 28 years, and I’m not sure I can put that into words. The classics of our literature are different, Art, architecture, and music developed differently, my country was violently colonized and still faces the results of that violence (including but not limited to structural racism, classism, misogyny etc), I learned some Capoeira in my physical education class at school, we call non-Brazilians “gringos,” and so on. This is my normal, and this is what my characters would see as normal too, because I don’t know any different.

At the very core, all my characters are influenced by my country’s history, by our relationship with other countries, and by the values my parents taught me, passed down to them by my Indigeous-Spanish-Portuguese-German foremothers/fathers. :P

The main, more palpable way my heritage influences my characters, though, is through humor and theme. I think Brazilians have a very specific, sharp, and often very smart kind of humor that, IMO, stems from the type of history our country has, and the way we look at life, sometimes translating pain into humor. As for themes, I usually write about what makes me angry... and there’s a lot in Brazil’s history and modern society that causes me that. :)

But all I know for sure is that I want to show the world Brazilians are much more than samba and soccer.

 Q6: What is something you love to see in interactive fiction?

Other people! In the same way I add my history and worldview to my creations, I always approach stories thinking that there’s a whole, well, history behind them. And I love that! Also, I adore choices that feel impactful + good friendships and family relationships + soft romances with mutual respect. ♥

Q7: Any advice to give?

Hmm. Be proud and celebrate who you are and where you’re from. Learning and understanding the world inside us is a life-long process, so it’s always a victory to discover new pieces of ourselves. :) Also, if you can, talk to people that come from different cultures than yours to expand your worldview, don’t be afraid to be soft (the world needs more kindness), and please study personal finance. Seriously. XD

[blinderspeaky]

Amoret | Tommy Shelby

A/n: So this is my first piece of writing here and I apologise if it's too long! idk how accurate this is but I had fun writing it so that's all that matters I guess

Cora is going through a dry spell because everyone is too scared to make a move on her because of her best friend, Thomas Shelby, so he takes matters into his own hands -- literally.

Word count: 23,450

"I can't believe you did that." I flirtatiously giggle as if I didn't have to scrub my hands raw to get rid of the blood from the gory mess that happened just a few hours prior.

"I needed to get out somehow, I just didn't realise I was trashing hundreds of pounds worth of art." The handsome stranger laughs, leaning into me as we get more familiar and comfortable with each other.

"Terrible, just terrible." I smile fondly, my red lipstick gleaming at him as I fiddle with my fruity cocktail.

"I must say, you have the most gorgeous smile, if I knew how to paint I'd never run out of inspiration as long as you're around." The man charms and I have to suppress an eye roll.

What does a girl have to do to just get a bit of pleasure round here?

I'm not here to be charmed, I'm here for a fun time.

"Thank you, you really know how to charm a girl." I say, crossing my leg over the other, so that my leg is in between his legs from where he's sat on the bar stool.

"Only the pretty ones." He replies, pushing the little curled bits of hair framing my face behind my ear-- the rest of my hair is placed in a delicate low bun, pinned back with expensive pins. He rubs his knuckles against my cutting cheek bone, seemingly admiring my face. "It's unfair how beautiful you are."

"What are you gonna do? Kiss me about it?" I make the first move.

He smirks. 

"Thinking about it."

His eyes flicker between my eyes and my lips, and he's about to lean in when a voice interrupts.

"Cora." Tommy says as he walks up to us. "I'm going to head back to my office, I'll see you later to finish business, alright?"

"Yeah, just you?" I question, staring up at my best friend.

"Yeah, Arthur's pissed in the back room, thought I'd let you know, but everyone is still here." Tommy answers, giving my shoulder a squeeze.

"See yous." I sing, ready to turn back to my entertainment tonight.

"Bye." Tommy says and gives the handsome stranger a once over before leaning down to say something into my ear. I'm used to his teasing and he's used to my punches after, so I let out a huff, ready to hear what he has to say this time. "Careful, I've heard this one bites."

I look into his eyes with an annoyed look. "That's why I'm here."

Tommy lets out a quiet chuckle before wordlessly leaving the building, leaving me with the pretty boy.

Looking back at the stranger, I'm startled to find him wide eyed and inching away from me by the second.

"What?" I ask, taking a sip from my drink.

"That was... that was Thomas Shelby." He says, frozen.

"So?" I lift a perfectly arched eyebrow.

"He's a Peaky Blinder."

"So am I, yet you've been talking to me just fine." I state, knowing where this is going; this has happened way too many times recently.

People know of me but most people couldn't put a face to my name, which is why this happens a lot. I'm ready for the onslaught of rejection and a hint of terror.

"You're a Peaky Blinder?" He utters as if he can't believe it.

I nod.

"I've gotta, uh, go, have a nice evening but I must get going." He says and quickly gets off his stool to rush out of the room, practically tripping over his own feet.

Letting out a huff, I finish my drink before hopping off my stool to join everyone in the back room, everyone is more or less smashed, a slur of half hearted cheers go around room when I enter and it makes me smile. I sit down next to Finn, who offers me a cigarette, which I accept and light it up, tilting my head towards the ceiling showcasing the thin, long scar on my throat, I blow the smoke out, watching it billow towards the ceiling.

"Why are men so scared of me and Tommy?" I grumble.

"Because they know if they fuck up, either of you will rip their spleen out, darling." Polly comments, her slender fingers twitching her cigarette to drop off the ash. "Individually or together, doesn't matter." She adds.

"Match made in heaven... or hell, depends how you look at it." Michael states before downing his drink.

"How do you do it?" I ask Polly, taking a drag of my cigarette.

"Well, for starters, I'm not as ruthless as you and I guess I'm not attached to the hip with Thomas." She replies nonchalantly.

"What you need to do, right, Cora, is find a man who is handsome and can take a good punch." Arthur tells me and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Because whoever it is, he's gonna get punched by someone you know and by punched I mean shot."

"No one is bulletproof, Arthur." I say, not taking on his drunk advice.

"I am." John laughs.

"No, no you're fucking not." Finn retorts.

"How do girls not get scared of you guys?" I question, fiddling with my necklace. "On an extremely good day you guys can look intimidating and scary, how do you get girls?"

They all scoff at my teasing.

"Fuck off, alright." Arthur grumbles, knocking back another glass.

"The girls like the thrill. They come from a very traditional family and want a part of the danger but they also think they can change us." John answers my question seriously.

"Never fucking works though, does it?" Finn barks a laugh, nudging John.

We continue to chat for a while before I get bored and I'm still slightly pissed off about earlier, so I say my goodbyes not that anyone's really listening, too drunk to function so I slip out and step out into the brisk chilly streets of Birmingham.

Twisting and turning until I get to my destination, I open the door with the key I've had for literal years and brush my shoes off before stepping inside, closing the door behind me.

Making my way through the room, I wordlessly open Tommy's office, finding him sat at his desk going through paper work, cigarette in hand; he looks up, dropping his pen but goes back to his work.

"You're here earlier than I thought." He states, his tone light.

I huff, mad at him although I know it's not his fault.

"Same." I reply tightly, throwing my bag down into the little seating area in the corner of his office before I sit down in the chair opposite him.

"You don't have to be here, I can do this on my own, you know. I'm not forcing you to be here." Tommy replies in a sincere voice, taking a drag of his cigarette.

"I know, but no one wants me out there." I counteract, leaning back in my chair, a sour look on my face.

Tommy looks like he wants to ask but decides against it; he knows when I'll come around.

"Right, uh... so I talked to some connections and they said they know about the plans but are refusing to tell me any details, and I'm debating with either paying them a visit or selling their information." Tommy informs and just like that I'm back into business mode again, forgetting about my interaction from earlier.

Then we talk about business, business plans, plans for the future, and just random things whilst having a laugh.

As things are winding down, Tommy gets up to grab a drink from his own bar cart that he has in his office.

"Do you want one?" Tommy offers, looking over his shoulder at me.

"Sure." I accept and he gets another glass out, beginning to pour our drinks. I sink into my chair, rubbing my eyes as I let out a groan. I'm still bothered about earlier.

That guy just rubbed me the wrong way, it's happened plenty of times before tonight; I'm best friends with one the most notoriously dangerous person in the midlands, I guess tonight was just my breaking point.

If I saw him again, I wouldn't hesitate to send a few promises to him.

"Fuck, how come you can be a manwhore but I can't even get a single person to be interested in me for more than 20 minutes?" I question, accepting my glass from Tommy when he approaches me.

"Long enough to get the job done though." Tommy jokes, sitting down in the chair next to me, our feet hovering above one another where our legs are crossed. "I think it's a little thing called misogyny."

"Little thing my ass." I bitterly chuckle, taking a sip. "You're at fault for all this, by the way."

"The fuck did I do?" He asks with a light laugh, before taking a sip of his drink.

"You're the reason all these people get scared to either even approach me or go any further than some harmless flirting." I explain, tucking some hair behind my ear as I send him a look that only widens his smirk.

"Not my fault people are so delirious with terror when it comes to me." Tommy shrugs, placing his glass on the table beside his chair and he laughs at my disbelief.

"Yeah, because you definitely didn't put on a show at the garrison last month that we're still finding blood from." I roll my eyes fondly.

"Got to show my enemies what I'm capable of." Thomas brushes my words off. "And hey, it's not like you're innocent yourself. Didn't you destroy a guy's face so much they the police couldn't even identify him just a few days ago?" He teases, licking his lips.

"No, doesn't ring any bells." I shake my head.

"Funny, maybe that's why men are scared of you and won't approach you. I for one, am absolutely terrified of you." Tommy states, making me laugh knowing that's he's only half joking.

"Most people can't put name to my face so they generally don't know me, therefore it's your fault." I tell him, placing my drink on the matching side table next to me.

"Really?" He sighs

"Yes! Just earlier tonight I was talking to some guy and then you came along, Mr. I will cut someones ears off if they look at me, and you scared the bejeezus out of him, turned him into a puddle of foolery. Then I told him I'm connected to you and he freaked the fuck out, made an excuse to leave and he practically tripped over his own feet to get away from me." I reply grumpily, sitting up in my chair.

"Are you done?" Tommy asks, sending me a look.

"No, no I'm fucking not. I've not had sex in like 2 months, do you even know what that feels like? Most of the time it's not even me, it's you that scares them off!" I answer exasperated, watching him down the rest of his drink, placing the empty glass back on the table.

"No, I don't, actually. Why don't you just go outside of Birmingham for a fuck?" Tommy suggests, leaning forward on his knees.

"Fuck you. Mate, I've fucking tried and if we weren't literally sewn together that might work but everywhere I am, you are, vice versa. It's also such a faff to go all the way out or Birmingham for some dick that's probably mediocre. You ju---"

I'm cut off from my rant by Tommy's lips on mine.

I'm so confused and stunned by his actions that I don't know how to react. Freezing, I just sit there for a moment before I decide to kiss him back for a few moments before I pull back sort of abruptly, not in a big deal.

"What are you doing?" I question, searching his crystal clear blue eyes that are mere inches away from my face.

"If everyone else is so scared of me that they can't approach you, may as well take matters into my own hands." Thomas explains, and he gingerly cups my cheek, his thumb brushing over my cheekbone, his eyes soft.

I lean in closer to him, thinking over how this could play out, what it would do to our years long friendship.

It's no secret that we find each other attractive, we've said it to each other and everyone around us, but I can honestly say that nothing has ever happened between us. Two best friends that have expressed our admiration for each other.

I don't know if I want to ruin that.

Our friendship is incredibly strong and personal, I don't know if one steamy night could just throw that away.

My desire acts on it's own and as Tommy is searching my green eyes, I close the gap between us, moving in perfect sync with each other as I play with his hair and he squeezes my waist.

It's like I'm slipping into a trance and all I can think of is Tommy, I'm consumed with all things Tommy. This moment right now is making me feel lighter than air, I've got sparks on my stomach at how he's making me feel.

The burning need to be closer is killing me and it seems like Tommy is feeling the same as he uncups my cheek and places his hands on my waist, pulling me onto his lap.

Thomas agonizingly slowly trails his hand up my thigh, his fingertips grazing my exposed skin where my dress has risen up, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Tommy's hand comes in contact with the pocket knife stuffed into my stocking and he pulls away slightly, letting out a low throaty chuckle, "Classic Cora." He mumbles against my mouth, making me smile, and he pulls deadly weapon from my stocking, placing it on the table beside him. Giving my hip a momentary squeeze, Tommy swipes his tongue against my lip asking for entrance, parting my lips, his tongue meets mine and he begins to explore my mouth, seeing what gets a reaction from me.

His fingers find my precariously placed tied up hair, pulling the few pins out and then the hair tie, sending my thick, dark brown almost black curls cascading down my back, causing Tommy to let out a sound of appreciation and bury his fingers into my hair.

I don't usually have my hair down as it's easy to grab on to and it just feels more professional to have it up. I've also got so much of it that it gets in the way when I'm trying to work.

Disconnecting from Tommy I attach my mouth to his neck, leaving my mark. Tommy tilts his head, giving me space to find his sweet spot and he lets out a nice little moan as I set to work.

The pending feeling of his hand trailing my thigh is overwhelming and his fingertips approaching where I need him the most makes me pause, my bottom lip dragging up the skin of his neck.

"Do you want me to stop?" Thomas whispers into my ear, his pursed lips tugging at my earlobe.

"Fuck no." I consent, and his hand meets my underwear.

Beginning to confidently rub me through my underwear, I let out a shaky breath against Tommy's neck and I instinctively open my legs wider for him. His touch is as light as a feather, desperate for more friction, I grind on his fingers letting out a moan.

"Mm, sound so good for me." Tommy rasps, his teeth grazing the skin on my prominent collarbone. Moving my fancy lacy underwear to the side, without hesitation Tommy runs his fingers through my folds, collecting my wetness and bringing it up to my clit.

All I can do is bite my lip to conceal my moans.

Trailing my hand down his front until I meet is trousers and I begin to palm is growing semi, which makes him let out a groan.

I declare that as my favourite sound.

Suddenly in one swift motion, I'm moved off of Tommy's lap and placed right on the edge of his hardwood desk and he's standing right in front of me, his gorgeous blue eyes blown out, looking at me as if I were the only person in world, and he's hungry.

"You're really pretty." Tommy utters.

Before I can reply, Thomas captures my lips again in another sensual kiss that's full of tongue, noises of appreciation, and hands are roaming as we keep involuntarily grinding against each other.

Pushing his suit jacket off and watching it drop to the floor, Tommy's hands find the back of my dress, making quick work of undoing the expensive fabric, and pulling it off of me, leaving me in my lingerie that I definitely didn't plan on letting my best friend see tonight whilst he's in his trousers, crisp white shirt, and extortionate looking waistcoat.

"Wow." My best friend says, slightly out of breath, taking in my figure and how off guard and innocent I look.

Unlike the brutally violent and devious businesswoman I am.

"Unbelievable."

"Shut up and touch me." I chuckle bashfully, weirded out at how special he's making me feel.

I feel extremely exposed but in a weird way, I kind of like it.

Tommy smiles fondly and presses a series of short kisses to my mouth before I take hold of his lip, flicking my tongue against him, causing him to tighten his grip on me.

Disconnecting, Thomas kisses down my neck, leaving a mark or two on his way down, until he gets to my chest and I arch into him. Kissing my cleavage as he cups my right boob, his lips trail down my torso, leaving a trail of fire behind him.

Dropping down to his knees, Tommy takes hold of my hips pressing a gentle kiss below my belly button before he snaps open my garter one by one and effortlessly drags my stockings down my legs.

Grazing up my legs with his hands or mouth, Tommy after what feels like years pulls my panties down, throwing them out of sight, I watch as his eyes light up and if possible I feel even more exposed.

Flicking his eyes up to me, looking like he's asking for my consent, I brush my fingers through his hair and give him a subtle nod.

Burying his head between my thigh, Tommy licks a strip up my heat, making me let out a moan, and bury my fingers into his thick hair.

Leaning back onto his desk, Tommy pushes my thighs apart so he can get better access as he attaches his mouth so my core, sending me to all sorts of heaven.

"Fuck, Tommy." I whine, tugging at his hair as I arch my back.

"Let it out, we're here alone, scream my name, let me hear how much you want me." Tommy urges with a slight smirk.

Without any warning, Tommy pumps a finger into me and I conform to his wishes at that, not caring how loud I was being, I let his name fall from my lips along with my moans.

My legs shudder under his hand, he lapped at me as if I were his last meal, reveling in the sounds I was making, the sounds he was earning.

I was close and we both knew that, so Tommy speeds up his movements and adds another finger inside of me, curling up.

"Fuck, oh my god, Tommy, don't stop." I pant, tugging at his hair.

Tommy had me withering in moments, my fingers tugging at his hair which made him groan, only adding to the pleasure he was giving me.

"Fuck, I'm gonna---" I began which only spurred Thomas on, he sucked harder and pumped his fingers faster. My breathing hitched and shaky, breathy, and loud sounds left my lips as I clenched around him, my body shuddering from the orgasm he'd worked out of me.

He continues his motions making sure I'm done, then pulls his fingers out, standing up right, brushing some hair out of my face.

"Such a pretty girl." He whispers, eyeing my lips.

Tommy's thumb runs over my bottom lip and I open my mouth, he brings his fingers that were inside of me to my lips, and I stick my tongue out and he inserts his finger into mouth, letting me suck my juices off of his fingers; his eyes seemingly in a trance at how my mouth is working.

"Mm, just like that." He whispers.

Standing up to my full height, I guide Tommy to swap places with me and he's very much willing to do so, peppering kisses to his jaw before dropping to my knees, I innocently look up at him through my lashes, loving how he's so aware of all my movements and how he's like putty in my hands.

"May I?" I raise an eyebrow, digging my fingertips under his belt.

Tommy leans down and cups my jaw, pressing a deep kiss to my lips. "Of course." I grin in delight and snatch a quick kiss as he begins to retreat.

Undoing his belt, I take that off and throw it away before undoing his button and pulling down his zipper. Palming him through his undone trousers, Tommy lets out a hitched breath, it's a barely there pressure, enough to feel something but no where enough as much as he like.

"Stop teasing." He groans, bracing himself on his desk and his knuckles are milky white from how hard he's holding on to his desk.

I chuckle darkly. "Tommy, I haven't even started."

Continuing my actions mixing up my pressure and pace as he throws his head back in annoyance.

Pulling him out of his underwear letting him spring free, Thomas groans when I grab him, making my mouth water. This sight alone could give me immense pleasure.

The sight of me on my knees in front of him, him practically fully clothed with his dick out, just calling out for me to suck, all whilst in the middle of his office.

With my best friend let alone.

I would love to tease him for hours but the overwhelming urge to hear Tommy moan, moan my name and pull my hair gets the best of me.

Tightening my grip on him, I wrap my lips around his tip that's already leaking precum, sucking lightly, which makes him throw his head back in pleasure.

"So pretty, such a pretty cock." I utter, licking his entire length and wrapping my mouth around him.

"Fuck, Cora." Tommy gasps, threading his hand in my hair to keep me there, and I let out a hum, causing him to tighten his grip on my hair as he lets out an estranged moan.

Taking as much as I possibly can into my mouth, I begin to work my magic, pumping whatever I can't with my hand whilst Tommy breathes heavily and lets out his moans above me.

The sight of him with his head thrown back as he moans my name whilst he half heartedly guides me with his hand, too lost in the pleasure to properly commits to it, is ingrained in my mind.

We're completely lost in the moment, right now it's just him and I, there's nothing else in our mind except lust and each other, and I'm alright with that.

"Oh my... fuck, I can't l---" Tommy cuts his pleasured rambling off and lets out a large breath before pulling me off of him. "I wanna finish inside of you." Tommy states breathlessly.

I wordlessly stand up, more than willing to conform to his needs and begin to undress him, his hands pulling off his clothes as fast as he can until he's completely stark naked in the middle of his office with his best friend.

Realising I've still got my bra on, I undo the back and pull the straps down, watching it fall the floor.

Tommy and I stand in front of each other, completely enamoured with each other, feeling extremely exposed but I like it.

"Gorgeous." Thomas whispers before pressing his lips to mine, gingerly holding my face in his hands.

Thomas guides me back a few steps to his desk and I prop myself upon it, as Tommy's hands roam.

Taking hold of himself, Tommy runs his tip through my dripping folds, the both of us letting out a shaky breath.

"You ready?" Tommy questions, tucking some hair behind my ears before pressing his forehead against mine.

"Mhm." I hum, running my hand down his back.

Capturing my lips in a quick kiss, Tommy lines himself up with my entrance and pushes in until he's done to the hilt.

"Fuck." We say in unison, making us breathe a chuckle.

Beginning to move his hips, Tommy buries his face in my neck, dragging his mouth wherever he pleases, exploring my skin. I hold the back of his neck, trying to stay afloat as my toes curl, and we're too far gone to care when expensive things fall from Tommy's desk.

***

"You should wear your hair down more often." Tommy tells me softly as he's propped up on his elbow looking down at me as I lie on my back, settling into the fairly large seating area Tommy has in his office.

"It's so long, it gets in the way." I pout, rubbing my eye.

"I like it." He sincerely says, picking up a lock and twirling it around his finger.

We're have gentle pillow talk without the pillows, just looking at each other in a different way as we lie in our underwear in the warm room, talking in quiet voices as if the whole world could hear us.

"I like your hair, very imaginative." I tease, combing his locks with my fingers.

"Rude." He grumbles, poking me in the side making me jerk as I let out a laugh.

"When you first get it cut it feels like velcro." I chuckle, making him grin.

"Yeah, I've just got the worst barber." Tommy smirks, playing with my fingers.

"Bitch." I laugh, ruffling his velcro like hair.

Every other Sunday Tommy sits in my kitchen letting me cut his hair as we bitch about business or just forgetting about work altogether.

"Talented at your craft but the most annoying barber I've ever met." He shakes his head, amused.

"I tell you each time, I don't mean to tickle your neck or catch your ear, it just happens." I defend myself, making him laugh.

"I don't mean to stab you, it just happens!" Tommy imitates me, making me poke him in the ribs which only makes him laugh harder. "If only people knew of your barbering skills and not your knife wielding skills, maybe they wouldn't be so scared of you."

"If only people knew of your sewing skills, they wouldn't be so scared of your gun ridden hand." I retort with a fond smile, looking up at how pretty he looks in this light, with the small matching fond smile of his face.

"Shh, or I'll tell people you are a professional at juggling." Tommy smirks, pushing some hair out of my face.

"Yeah, with knives, that's cool as fuck." I reply, passionate about my talent.

"Careful or we'll send you away to go to the circus." Tommy chuckles, pulling me in for a smiley kiss.

I've always been known to wake up really late, always the last one up, the last one to finish breakfast if at all, and always the last one out of the door in the morning. It's not that I stay out really late, I'm usually at home at a reasonable time, I cosy down in my homely home, and I just relax after the usually hectic day and yet I still wake up late.

Except today.

I wake up tangled in a mess of limbs, Tommy's arms wrapped around me and I suck in a breath, wishing on everything in the world that he doesn't wake up. Easily slipping out of his grasp, I sit on the edge of the large ottoman, rubbing my face before letting out a sigh.

I need to get dressed and be out of here before Thomas wakes up, I do not want to have the awkward conversation of the morning after.

Quickly and quietly, I put my dress back on, throw my hair up as I approach the window, pulling one of the slats down to see what it's like at this ungodly hour of 5 in the morning, the Sun is just starting to rise, highlighting the permanent haze of smoke above Birmingham.

Shoving my ankle boots on, I tug the zips up and tip toe towards the door so that my heels don't click against the wooden floors.

Closing the door behind me as silently as possible, I let out a big breath when I succeed and begin to walk out the building that I visit everyday.

I know I'm going to see Thomas again in just a few hours but hopefully we'll both be consumed in work to talk about what happened. God I hope no one will pick up on what happened.

I don't regret last night at all and I can say that with my whole chest but I also love my friendship with Tommy, and I hope one night of mind blowing, amazing sex won't ruin that.

I've no idea where we stand and that scares me.

That's my best friend, he'll always be my best friend.

Opening up the door to my house that I never got to see last night, I begin to tidy up a few things as I've got some time before I have to head into work. This is my haven, this is wear I escape work, I try not to bring business back here, this is my safe place so I have to have it clean.

Shoving an old newspaper into the bin, I begin to make a bite of breakfast and head into my bedroom whilst it cooks so I can get properly dressed.

Pulling my wardrobe open, brushing my fingers over the hangers until I find a suitable item a clothing; a navy blue dress that gives the illusion that it's off the shoulder but it's got a see through mesh-like material hanging from my shoulders with tiny multicoloured flowers embroidered into it, it's cinched at the waist but it's got a wavy extra bit of fabric above my chest, the length is slightly longer than I usually go for as it's inches shy from my ankles, whilst I usually go for just below the knee dresses but I like it.

Just about being able to do it up myself, I pick out some appropriate shoes with a tall heel as I'm surrounded by a lot of men so I hate being the shortest person in the room.

Plus Tommy is quite a bit taller than me and he always teases me for that, so I use my heel to either kick him in the shin or step on his toes.

Gently brushing through my hair to make sure it doesn't frizz up on me, I throw it up in an intricate low bun, leaving some large parts out to frame my face.

Going back downstairs to fetch my breakfast which I eat whilst I read this morning's paper, before I head out of the door.

***

"Well I'll say, this has got to be a first." Arthur laughs, leaning back in his chair as I enter the betting shop.

"Wow," Polly starts, looking at her watch bewildered. "Only 45 minutes late."

Even though I got up at the ass crack of dawn, I'm still late as I may or may not of got preoccupied with the book I've been reading recently and then I got caught up chatting with some people on my way over here.

"I usually expect to see you at around 10 or 11." John smirks, taking his cigar out of his mouth.

"What can I say? Don't get used to it." I say, my eyes flickering towards Tommy's office where he seems to be as of now and I can't help by think about last night.

"It's almost as if you're acting professional and playing by the rules." Polly sarcastically replies, hovering above Arthur.

"Never." I shake my head, placing my bag on my desk then hanging my long coat on the coat hanger.

"Tommy's in a bad mood, so watch out." John jokes, swinging in his chair.

"Really?" I raise an eyebrow, looking at him.

"Well, he's not really in any mood, he's just brooding in silence and doesn't want to interact or talk to anyone." Polly rolls her eyes,making her way over to her own work station. "Maybe you can sort him out." She adds, with a small smile.

Doubt it.

"I've gotta get my forms so I have to interact with him." I huff and brace myself as I open the door to his office, I've never knocked before so I'm not gonna start now.

"Good morning." Michael greets me, sitting in the chair that Tommy kissed me in.

"Morning." I say back, my eyes flicking up to Tommy who's not taking his eyes off of his work in front of him.

"Do you even know what this time of day looks like?" Michael teases, and I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry, Michael, she's been up for hours, I'm sure Cora loves the sunrise." Tommy states before I can even think of replying to Michael.

I glare at him as he leans back in his chair, lighting up his cigarette not even looking at me.

If he wants to be hostile, I can always beat him at that.

"Practically pulled an all nighter, was busy with a piece of work." I tell Michael but my words are aimed at Tommy, and I'm right because Tommy can be a piece of work when he wants to be.

Tommy just exhales his smoke and looks at me devoid of any emotion as I refuse to look at him.

"Should've asked for a hand, I'd of been more than willing." Michael says, completely oblivious to Tommy and I's quips.

"No, couldn't do that to you." I wave him off. "Anyway, I only came in here to get my forms." I say, finally looking at Tommy in the eyes, waiting for him to give them to me as they're in his drawer.

He just stares at me, his cigarette burning in his hand, seeming like there's a million words in his head that he wants to say yet absolutely thoughtless at the same time.

"Run along then, Michael." Tommy says as he hands Michael a file, which Michael wordlessly takes and exits the room.

Letting out a huff, I walk around his desk and crouch down next to him to open his bottom drawer.

"You're a twat, Tom." I grumble, grabbing the wad and standing up.

"No what you were saying la---" Tommy gets cut off by me slamming the stupid forms on his desk and the grabbing his own gun from his holster and pressing it below his jaw as I hold his throat, pushing him back in his chair.

"Finish that sentence, I dare you." I prompt him, looking at his slightly taken aback eyes. "You know I'll do it."

He stays silent, clearly picking up on my vibe.

Putting pressure on my hands one last time before throwing his gun into his lap, gathering what I came in here for and leaving his office.

Tommy and I bicker all the time, disagree on extremely menial stuff but we only properly argue very occasionally but we always come around in the end because despite everything we love each other but god can we get on each other's nerves.

Not that I'd call that an argument, that was just a warning.

"We knew you weren't a morning person but fuck Tommy must've pissed you right off." Arthur laughs, as he chalks some stuff up on the big blackboard.

"More than you'll ever know." I grumble, and begin to get to work.

***

As the Sun sets, people start clearing out of the building as they finish their work, singing or grumbling a goodbye over their shoulder as they go home to their family or lonesome house. I could only dream of clocking out as I've still got a load of work to do and not even the kind I like, it's all admin and menial things that need to be done but I wouldn't consider it fun by any means.

It's kind of nice in a funny sort of way, it's dark outside and the lights are on illuminating the room with a soft glow, there's a slight patter of rain on the windows and it's just relaxing and quiet.

It's giving me a moment with my mind to think things over as I pretty much work on autopilot.

I know Tommy is still here, I can see him through the glass doors to his office, clearing extremely concentrated on whatever he's doing; I wonder if his mind keeps drifting back to what we did on his desk just last night.

I don't what to say to him, he's giving me the cold shoulder, refuses to talk to me unless it's necessary, and I just don't know where we stand. I don't know what I want to come from last night, I'm really happy with where we are right now and although I had - arguably - the best sex of my life last night, not much can come between our friendship.

I felt something that night, Tommy made me feel so special and like I was the most important person in the world to him, and I couldn't deny that those feelings.

Letting out a sigh, I drop my pen and grab a cigarette, placing it between my lips before I search for my matches. Striking a match, I tilt my head back and as I'm bringing the flame to my cigarette my eyes catch Tommy leaning against the doorway to his office, staring at me.

I pause for a moment before lighting my cigarette and waving the match out as I exhale.

"You look really pretty when you concentrate." Tommy states and if there were another person in here I don't think I would of been able to hear him.

"I don't do it often so you're welcome." I reply, never one to take compliments. "But thanks." I bashfully add.

"We both know that's not true." Tommy smiles ever so slightly.

"You look really pretty when you smile." I reply, taking a drag from my cigarette.

Tommy steps down the few steps and approaches me.

"Cora... what's going on?" Tommy asks, turning the chair beside me around so he can sit on it backwards, his arms folded on the backrest.

I look down, not sure what to say or where to look or how to react.

"I don't... I don't know." I say quietly, almost ashamed to admit. I'm always in control of a situation, I know the ins and outs but this time I have no idea where I stand, what's going on and I'm definitely not in control; neither of us are.

"Do you regret it?" He questions and I look at him properly.

"No, I don't. I can honestly say that I don't regret it." I answer sincerely, and a shimmer of relief speeds across his eyes. "Do you?"

"No. It was great and you don't regret great things." Tommy replies after a few moments, watching me stub out my cigarette. "But... I was hurt that you left before I woke up." He hesitantly adds, as if he doesn't know how to put his words together.

Neither do I.

Looking around the room as I try to gather my words, I can feel his bright blue eyes boring into my side and its quite unnerving.

"I didn't know what to say to you. Tommy, you're my best friend, you have been since year 9, we've gone through so much together and I can always rely on you ---you've always just been my best friend. Then suddenly when I get rejected by some twat who's scared of either women in general or the fact that you are my best friend and you decide to kiss me and then things escalate, things change. For good or for bad I don't know." I try to just put some of my thoughts into words.

"You could've left a note, woke me up if you really needed to go, silently got dressed with me and then we parted ways, anything... anything other than wordlessly leaving. Everything stopped, I slept a full night, I didn't have any messy dreams, I woke up rested, then when I saw you weren't there with me, none of that mattered anymore." Thomas explains with a small shrug, his eyes burning for a conclusion, a cohesive answer, anything.

"Only because you had company, female company no doubt." I state, sending him a tired look. His face is illuminated by the standing lamp behind me, highlighting his slight frustration, hurt, and confusion.

"No, I'm almost 100 percent sure it's not just female company. When I got back from fighting and I was having my night terrors, I'd call you up and you'd come sleep in my bed, and you'd help me fall asleep again and at least help with my dreams. When I was using you'd demand that we share a bed because you knew that I knew that you hated it. You've always helped me sleep." Tommy insists, leaning forward in his chair.

"I was just being a good friend, Tom."

"I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend or to marry me, I'm just saying I sleep better with you around. I don't know what I want to come out from this or where we stand but please promise that at the end of the day we'll always be best friends." Tommy pleads, grabbing my hand, clasping it with both of his.

"We'll always be best friends, Thomas. No matter how mad I am at you or you at me, I'll always be there for you." I assure, squeezing his hand with a small smile. "I hate not being in control, my whole life I've always been in control, had a grip on things, and just knew the ins and outs of every situation, then suddenly I don't it scares the living hell out of me, Tom. I don't know how to react."

"I'm not asking you to, I'm just as confused and lost as you are, I don't know where we stand or how to be normal again." Tommy says, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know what I want to come from this, but I know I'll always want you around."

"Same, always." I tell him, looking deep into his eyes. "I've gotta go, Tommy, I'll see you tomorrow." I lie, I've still got a load of work to do but if Tommy keeps looking at me like he is now, I'm not going to be able to make it out of here without my hair a mess.

Standing up, I push my chair back in and take a step away before Tommy says something.

"You can't keep running from your problems."

I pause, turning to look at him.

"Sorry?"

"You can't keep running away from things that you can't solve in 5 minutes." Tommy expands, looking up at me. He looks uncertain, as if he doesn't know how I'll react.

Keeping my gaze on his for a split second more before I swiftly bend down to press my lips against his, cupping his cheek. He seems surprised and stills for a moment then eagerly kisses me back, his hand also on my cheek.

We kiss for a few more moments until I pull back slightly, our faces inches away. "Watch me." I whisper, looking into his stormy sea of blue eyes, and my eyes flicker down to his lips before I stand up to my full height.

Taking a step back to make my move out of here but Tommy suddenly stands up straight and grabs my hand before I can escape and pulls me into him, immediately cupping my face with his soft hands and softly crashes his mouth to mine.

Without any hesitation I kiss him back, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck as I slowly relax into him. Tommy pulls me impossibly close to him, feeling every contort of his body, his hands steadily trail down my back as I work my mouth against his.

Once again, Tommy pulls my hair out of my hairband, letting my wild locks bounce free around my back. He buries his fingers into my curls whilst his other hand wonders, feeling my waist, hips and ass.

I press my hips against his and he leans against the nearest desk, he lets out a moan at the feeling of my hips and I take advantage of that so my tongue can get reacquainted with his.

Last time it was slow, hesitant touches, taking our time but this time it's eager, fast moving, and hungry.

I let out a moan when Tommy flicks his tongue against mine, completely lost in the moment; I can feel that I'm losing myself in him, his touch, his mouth, his mind. Disconnecting, Tommy attaches his mouth to the sensitive skin on my neck, dragging his lips up to the sweet spot below my ear.

The fast that he knows that fact sends me reeling over something so silly and simple, but it wakes me up.

Immediately I push myself off of him, taking a few shaky steps back with wide eyes. He looks shocked, his blown out eyes shining in concern, and he takes a step towards me.

"Co---"

"No." I shake my head. "We can't do this, I need to leave." I blurt out and make an exit, not bothering to pick up my coat on the way out as Tommy calls after me, but I slam the door on him, blocking out his voice that's always been comforting for me.

***

"Turns out it was just a fluke then." Polly teases, lighting up a cigarette as I enter the building.

"Seems like it." I agree, glancing at the clock, seeing it reads 10:45.

"Who's this raven haired beauty walking in?" A familiar voice asks, and I look to my left to see Ada proudly sitting on the closest desk to me.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, not being able to help the grin on my face as I approach her, pulling her into a quick hug.

"Thought I should come up as I haven't seen everyone in a while, and you even longer." Ada explains, and it's true as the last time she came up I was busy visiting my family that live down south.

"Well, it's great to see you again. Did you bring Karl?" I question, and as I'm looking at her I can't help the guilt that tugs at me as I slept with her brother just a few nights ago.

"Yeah, he's busy making a mess in Tommy's office with Finn." She answers, folding her arms.

"I'm sure he'll look forward to finding that." I smirk. "Is Tommy here by the way?" I ask curiously, hanging my bag up along with my coat, next to the coat I left here last night when I made a hasty exit.

"No, something happened at The Garrison or something and he had to go sort that out." Ada informs me, sending me a quizzical look when I let out a sigh of relief.

"Michael said someone got too rowdy and fired some shots at someone, no ones seriously hurt but Tommy went to go sort it out." Polly says, walking towards us creating a trio.

"When did your hair get so long?" Ada asks fascinated, her slender fingers coming up to grasp a few loose curls.

"I've not seen you without your hair up in what? Two years, maybe?" Polly comments, also looking at my hair.

"I just didn't have time this morning to do it, rolled out of bed, parted it and left." I tell her, running my hand through it.

"Didn't have the time? It's nearly 11 o'clock and you're only just strolling into work." Ada exclaims with a laugh.

"It took me ages to get to sleep, and I need my 8 hours." I retort, the reasons I couldn't get to sleep need to remain a secret.

Her damn brother.

"And just because you're you Tommy won't get mad. If any of us are more than 20 minutes late, Tommy will act like a child." Polly roll her eyes.

"How do you do it?" Ada asks genuinely.

Suck his dick apparently.

"I simply just show him my knife and he does whatever." I joke, with a smirk. "Hey, it's not like you have to be here at 8 or 9 on the dot, you're all founders of this company, you have just as much of say as that dumb fuck."

"True, but you can't deny that Tommy will throw a fit if we're late, where as you..."

"What can I say? Shelbys love me." I tease and leave the room.

It's just pushing 3 pm when Tommy walks into the room again, the first time I'm seeing him since I freaked out last night. It's been a busy and chaotic day so far, people coming in and out, I had to go deal with someone who wasn't paying up which got a bit messy, then I had to catch up on all the things I didn't do yesterday after leaving prematurely, and to do that with a messy head on top of that is difficult.

Tommy searches the room as he continues to walk through the room until he finds me. "You, my office." He points his finger at me and then towards his office doors.

"No?" I shake my head, quirking my eyebrows.

"It's fucking business that's all." Tommy huffs from across the room, giving me a slight glare before looking down and heading towards his office.

Pushing my chair out, I let out an even bigger huff than Tommy's and stand up, meeting him at his office doors. Our eyes flicker over each other extremely briefly before he opens his door and lets me enter first.

We both stop short at the sight of a man sitting in the chair opposite Tommy's desk.

"Who's that?" I whisper to Tommy, neither of us taking a step further.

"Mr Parsons, wants business with us." Tommy briefly tells me before moving forward. "Good afternoon, Mr Parsons."

"Ah! Good afternoon, not that good in a place like this." Mr Parsons states, looking up at Tommy as he goes to sit in his desk chair.

"Good afternoon." I greet and sit down in the chair next to him.

"Oh, a woman, a pretty woman that is." He comments with a weird smile of his face.

I send a quick look to Tommy who looks just as speechless as I am. "Thank you, business --- what can we do for you?"

Ever since I joined The Shelby Company Limited all those years ago Tommy's always asked me to join in with meetings. Not entirely sure why if I'm honest, he's always said and I quote 'you give me a level headed opinion', whatever that means.

"I need protection, I've recently moved to this shithole and I've heard that you so called Peaky Blinders are the best people for the job." Mr Parsons states, intertwining his fingers over his chest.

Tommy and I share a look at his choice of words.

"What do you need protecting?" Tommy questions, leaning back in his chair.

As Mr Parsons answers Tommy's question in his unique way of vocabulary, I take a good look at him. He's probably at the higher end of middle-aged, a full head of black hair growing white, a rather slim and tall build, well dressed, a thin greying moustache, and a sinister smile. He's not unattractive but there's something just off about his face.

"We will definitely look into that, Mr Parsons, we'll need to assess the situation ourselves first." Tommy says, gesturing with his hands.

"This pretty lady, I hope of course." He gives me a grin, and I grip the arms of the expensive chair to stop myself from showing him what I really think of him.

"No." Tommy bluntly tells him. "My brother will."

"That's a real shame." Mr Parsons sighs and looks at me as if I were his last meal on earth. "I must say, I think it's really great that you have so many women working for you."

"First of all," Tommy starts, leaning back in his chair and lights a cigarette, "They work with me, and secondly if you weren't so creepy and weird, you'd not speak of women as if they're a rare breed of dog."

Mr Parsons takes no notice of Thomas, just keeps his smile as his green eyes take me in, making my skin crawl. If the circumstances wear different and we were in a different environment I'd of either punched the guy in the face or threatened to do something worse by now, but because this is business and he could be important, I can't.

I lead forward in my chair to be closer to him despite my whole body screaming no. "You're coming on a little strong."

"That's just the way I act with beautiful women. A good one only comes around once and a while and you have to snap them up real fucking quick." He replies, with a wink, looking proud of himself.

"And you think it's working?" Tommy sasses and I stifle a chuckle, pursing my lip to conceal my smirk.

"I know it's working." He states over confidently, which even if I were into him, that would be a big turn off.

Like Tommy, he has a certain confidence about him but it's not stifling, big headed, or cocky, it's subtle, he demands it without verbally demanding it, and it's attractive.

Ew, since when did I use my best friend as a model of what is hot and not?

"Business, Mr Parsons, we're here for business." I remind him, sending him a stern look.

"See." Mr Parsons smirks at Tommy, and I roll my eyes as Tommy just stares straight through him, his cigarette seemingly forgotten as it burns in his fingers. "My business need protecting because I've made a few enemies in my year, and people like trying to tear me down."

"Wonder why." I mumble in a huff.

"What was that, sweetheart?"

"Oh nothing, just talking to myself, nothing for you to worry about." I wave him off, throwing a glare at him I how intrusive he's being.

"Anything that concerns your gorgeous mind is my concern, darling." Mr Parsons states softly before he grabs my hand that was dangling off of the arm of my chair.

I throw my head back in annoyance; I'd give anything to show this bitch my knife. I pull hand back, wanting to wash hands immediately.

"Why should we give you our protection?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"Because, you clearly need it." Mr Parsons says, taking his eyes off of me from practically looking through my clothes to look at Tommy straight in the eyes.

Tommy abruptly gets up and rounds his desk towards me, he nods his head for me to get out of my chair, which I do and Tommy places his hand on my waist as we switch places to me sitting in his chair opposite Mr Parsons to Tommy sitting next to him, I can feel Mr Parsons' eyes on my body as I move. Tommy leans forward in his new chair, looking deep into Mr Parsons' eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He questions, looking scary but it's kinda hot and to be honest, I'm slightly turned on.

"You live in a place like this, it's pretty self explanatory." Mr Parsons replies, crossing his leg over the other.

"I choose to live here, you don't have a choice." Tommy points out, clearly knowing more about him than I do.

"If that's what you want to believe, sure." He chuckles, throwing his head back.

"I'm not accustomed to being spoken to like that, especially not in my own fucking office." Tommy states, shaking his head slightly.

"What? No one been brave enough?" He chortles. "I've always been---"

"No one's seen the next morning after." Thomas cuts him off bluntly, and Mr Parsons stills for a moment.

This is such a dangerous and tense moment yet all I can do is keep my eyes locked on Tommy and all I want in the world right now is a repeat of the other night.

"I'm here to make a deal, Mr Shelby."

"Fine, give me your proposition." Tommy says, leaning back in his seat.

"50 percent of what I can--- no, will bring into The Shelby Company." Mr Parsons states with no remorse.

"And how do you expect to do that?" Tommy practically almost laughs, and I bite my lip to stop my guffaws coming out.

"With my business. If you protect me and people know that we're in bed together, you'll get even more people coming to you, you won't know where to put all the money." He answers, clearly delusional.

"Anything more you want from your so called deal?" Tommy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"A night with the girl."

We both freeze at that, both of us not believing that he just said that.

Tommy's always been protective of me, especially with people like this. I can even remember when I'd get people a year or two above me in school hitting on me or flirting with me, Tommy would always put them in their place and then ask if I was okay.

Yet at the same time, he knows to give me space and when I'm at my breaking point. He knows I don't like being smothered and accommodates for that.

"She's off the fucking table, untouchable." Tommy states with no hesitation or room for arguing. "Get the fuck out of my office." He shakes his head.

"I said sh---"

"Out." I push and he turns to look at me, his eyes widening at the sight of a gun pointed at his head.

"Yo---"

"Out." I push and pull the slide back.

He wordlessly gets up and Tommy and I escort him out as he swears a storm, slamming the door after himself.

Tommy and I stare at each other, alone since last night.

We both act on our own accord as I'm suddenly pressed against the wall, with Tommy's mouth on mine. I grip the back of his neck, my nails tickling his skin as Tommy pins me against the wall with his hips whilst his hands grip whatever he can.

Tommy wastes no time letting his tongue get reacquainted with mine, and I let out a moan at the feeling.

Last time it was soft, gentle, and slow, this time though, this time it's a lot more heated, passionate, and rougher.

"Jump." Tommy mumbles against me, and I do so, wrapping my legs around him as his hands go to my ass to get a steady grip on me.

I can tell he's holding back, almost as if he's refraining himself

"You can be rougher with me, by the way. I'm not made of glass." I quietly tell him, tracing his face with my fingers as we search each others eyes.

"Yeah?" He raises an eyebrow. "How rough?"

"We could set up a safe word?" I suggest.

"Like what?"

"Juggle?"

Tommy laughs before he presses his forehead against mine. "That works."

***

"What the fuck was that?" Tommy asks shocked, trying to catch his breath as his hand trails down the bare skin on my back.

"I don't know but oh my god." I shake my head, resting my forehead on his shoulder.

"This needs to be a regular occurrence, it's too good not to be." Tommy states, throwing his head back in his leather desk chair.

"Definitely." I agree, beginning to catch my breath.

I pull back, looking at Tommy who looks at me with hooded eyes and a small genuine smile, seemingly in a daze; we both are.

"You look pretty like this, no walls up, exposed and genuine." Thomas tells me softly, pushing some hair out of my face before quickly yet gently brushing his lips against mine.

"You're only saying that because I'm naked on top of you." I retort, beginning to have feeling in my legs again after riding him in his chair.

"I've always thought your were the most gorgeous person in the world, you know that, fuck, everyone knows that." He says and my stomach turns into liquid heat.

"Stop." I bashfully reply, burying my face into his neck as he breathes a laugh, continuing to stroke my back.

"You're so cute." He chuckles, kissing the side of my head.

"I've gotta get back to work, as much fun as this was, I like making money." I state, swiftly sliding off his lap and searching for my clothes that are strewn about the room somehow.

"So, what do you think we should do about Mr Parsons?" Tommy asks me, watching me fasten the back of my bra.

"You're not considering doing business with him are you?" I raise an eyebrow at him.

"No, fuck no." He shakes his head, getting up out of his chair to also get dressed. "Can't just let him come out of here with no repercussions."

"Probably just scare him, he didn't necessarily do anything, was just extremely unprofessional and disrespectful." I give him my two cents, before slipping my thick and dark jumper over my head. "But if there's anything that needs blowing up, you know where to find me."

Tommy chuckles as he buttons his shirt up.

"Of course." He nods with a smile, watching me slip into my skirt. "I'll send Finn his way."

"Terrifying." I smirk, finding it hard to believe that the boy I watched grow up could be intimidating.

"You seemed scared of him when he knocked on the door." Tommy teases, brushing his hip against mine as he walks past me.

"Well obviously, you had me up against the wall he was on the other side of; anyone could've caught us." I retort, looking in a mirror to sort my hair out as Tommy seems to have a fascination with it.

"Oh, so you're ashamed of me now are you?" Tommy asks, a teasing glint to blue eyes.

"Yeah, you're my dirty little secret." I laugh, before tying my shoes up.

Tommy tilts his head back to laugh as he slips his blazer back on, both of us looking put together again as if we didn't just have mind blowing sex.

"I'm going to have to kick you out of my office if you're going to speak to me like that." Tommy states, as we both near the door.

"We should really stop fucking on here. Next time my house." I tell him, looking up at him and the funny bright look in his eyes.

"Oh, so their is going to be a next time?" Tommy smirks with a raised eyebrow, look in proud of himself.

"You know as well as I do that there's going to be a next time." I send him a knowing look and he subtly licks his lips, looking pleased. "Can't get rid of you Shelbys if I tried."

Tommy laughs and presses a quick smiley kiss to my lips, "Don't ever change."

That's the start of an extremely natural, fulfilling, fun and sensual relationship. Nothing really changed within our friendship, only that we see each other naked a lot more.

It's definitely brought us closer together. We were extremely close before everything happened but now it feels like we've gotten to a new level, definitely a more intimate level but we're closer than ever before.

It kinda feels like we should've been messing around the whole time, it feels silly that we weren't. What we've got is so much fun and honestly it's a nice stress reliever at the end of the day.

It doesn't feel like we're tarnishing our years long friendship, this feels natural and free flowing.

No one knows, we made that a strict rule. We always try to mess around in the privacy of our own homes, but sometimes when it's late and everyone's gone home we can help ourselves or if tensions get high throughout the day.

I'm pretty sure no one knows. When this all started Ada was visiting and we were slightly sloppy with our secrecy, and she kinda cornered Tommy and I at different times but we got away with it as she never mentioned it again. After that we got our act together and any suspicion that was around died.

It's relatively unexpected from us, although we've expressed our attraction and admiration for each other to other people, we've always said we'd never act on it or that it was even possible to feel anything but appreciation for each other.

I've always joked that it'd be awful to be in a relationship with Tommy and that I'd hate to wake up to him everyday.

We also have another rule to not fall in love, which I laughed at when Tommy asked me to not fall in love with him, and then I told him to not flatter himself.

It's been kinda exciting sneaking around with Tommy. I feel like I'm hiding the resident bad boy of the town from my parents, but in this case it's one of the most dangerous people in the country and I'm sneaking around in front of his family, friends, and co-workers.

We generally don't really see each other outside of work besides on the Sundays that he comes over to my house to get his hair cut. Almost everyday we spend a lot of time together when everyone's gone home or ended their work day, we work together a lot, and I guess we see each other at the pub a lot; but to see each other outside of those premises isn't often. I occasionally go to Thomas' house but not by choice, only if he needs me there or there's a crises or an event going on but if I'm honest I don't like his house, which I've told him before and he always laughs at me because of it.

I love my flat in the heart of Small Heath and you couldn't get me out of their if you tried. I've lived there for years and it's my own place to call home. I could easily afford a house like Tommy's but you'd have to kill me to get me out of my flat.

In recent times, my house has sort of become his residence as he's spent so much time here recently. It's not just sex, we'll sometimes go to my house after work or after some evening entertainment, have a meal or just talk which leads to sex, and then half the time Tommy will stay the night; which leads to us having to sneak into work together without raising any suspicions.

Like now, it's honestly too often you'd find Tommy in my bed the morning after as the sun is beginning to shine through my bedroom windows, talking in quiet voices and having a few laughs.

Letting out a soft laugh at Tommy, I rub my hand over my face wake myself up a little bit more.

It's well into the morning, Tommy and I are lying in my bed, surrounded by sun spots that are pouring through my worn French windows, the Birmingham bustle is in full swing a few floors below us that we can hear small swings of from the window that is just slightly open, yet it's calm and quiet in this plant ridden room.

Just our quiet voices as if we were confessing our darkest secrets with the occasional stranger's shouty voice drifting through the window, and soft touches like we're handling a rare and ancient piece of history.

"Do you miss it?" Tommy asks as we're going through old memories.

"I miss my only worries being if Matthew Kennedy liked be back or not and being young and carefree, but I also love my life right now." I reply.

"Oh yeah, you planned out your wedding, how many kids you were gonna have and everything." Tommy laughs, his eyes glazed over as he thinks back to simpler times.

"It was gonna be outside with as many flowers as possible and we were gonna have 3 children, twin girls and a boy." I chuckle along with him, looking up at the crisp white ceiling. "But it turned out he was a shit kisser and only wanted to see my bed."

"I can still remember the black eye you gave him for that." Tommy grins, almost proudly.

"Deserved it, knob." I shake my head as he snickers before pulling me into him with the arm under me, curling me into his side, leaving the cracked open window to tickle my bare back with soft gusts of air.

"You're so violent." Tommy mumbles, pressing a gentle kiss to my hairline.

"Only to those that deserve it, which is a lot." I explain, before looking up at him. "So I can see how you got confused in perceiving me as a violent person, it's okay, Tom."

He send me an annoyed look as his fingers trace my back.

"You're so annoying, I've never met someone who annoys me so much." Tommy shakes his head, but despite his words his fingers stay consistent in tracing my back, running over my scars and smooth skin.

"You love it." I grin up at him.

All he does is grunt in response.

We lapse into a comfortable silence, with my head rested on his shoulder and my body pressed against his side whilst he has his arm wrapped around me, almost sending me to sleep again with his soft hands tracing my body.

"I can't believe you took a bullet for me." Thomas breaks the silence, running his fingers over the scar in my back.

"Only by accident." I reply, still slightly pissed off, making Tommy chuckle.

"Well if you hadn't moved I'd be dead." He states, looking up at the ceiling and easy smile on his face.

"And to think that you thought I was joking when it happened and you laughed." I shake my head, not being able help my smile.

I still remember that day as clear as ever.

We were outside the betting den with Arthur and Michael and I went to give Tommy a hug before I said goodbye and left but as we went to embrace each other I got a bullet straight into the back. I originally crashed into him and he thought I was joking before I crashed to the floor and my blood soaked my flowery blouse, that's when the laughter died.

"I said I was sorry!" Tommy claims, sounding anything but sorry. "I took care of you in the end though."

"You tripped as you entered the door, you knob!" I counteract, remembering how I was losing blood rapidly soaking his shirt, and as I was in his arms I laughed when he tripped nearly falling over.

"I was only trying." Tommy pouts, brushing his knuckles against my shoulder.

"Thank you." I breathe a small laugh before pressing a feather like kiss to his collarbone.

"You're not welcome." He jokes, before grabbing his first cigarette of the day.

Rolling out of his arms and onto my side of the bed, I do the biggest stretch known to man along with a loud and long groan. When I open my eyes, Tommy's giving me a look which I only grin at to annoy him, laying my head on my folded forearms as I lie on my stomach; I can't help but sigh as all I want to do I stay in the bed all day, preferably with him, not that I'd ever tell him that.

"Want one?" Tommy asks, offering his cigarettes to me.

"You know I don't smoke before 11." I tell him.

"I still don't get why." He shakes his head, exhaling the smoke.

"Habit." I shrug, knowing that it doesn't make any sense but I still do it anyway.

Running my fingers through my hair, I glance at my wardrobe, knowing that I should get ready sooner than later. Shuffling up onto my knees, I make my way over to Tommy's side of the bed as my wardrobe is situated on the left side of the room, I swing my leg over his, taking a brief pew on his thighs.

"You need your hair cut." I note, combing through his slight bed-head hair with my slender fingers.

"I know, but someone keeps putting it off." Tommy drawls, sending me a brief look be for he taps off the ash from his cigarette.

"It's not my fault that you come over to do it but you end up doing me instead." I chuckle, and he smiles.

"What can I say, it's just more fun."

I roll my eyes with a fond a smile before I go to get off Tommy's lap and venture out of this unbelievably comfortable bed but Tommy stops me by placing his hands on my hips, locking me in place.

"Yes?" I raise an eyebrow.

Tommy presses his lips against mine, pulling me in for a sensual, gentle morning kiss which leaves me breathless and wanting more. So much more. His touch is softer than ever as he cups my face in one hand and trails the other over the skin of my waist.

"That's all." Tommy shrugs, brushing his nose against mine with a small smile.

I mirror his smile and capture his lips one last time before I finally get out of bed, making my way over to my wardrobe and pull both doors open, my eyes darting over the hangers.

Picking out a dark dress with bright coloured flowers that has slight and subtle bell bottom sleeves, I shimmy into that before I make my way across the room to look out the window.

"Aw, it looks like it's going to rain." I frown, closing the window.

Tommy puts out his cigarette and gets out of bed, joining me at the window. "When doesn't it?"

"True," I shrug, then turn my back to Tommy. "Can you do me up?"

"Mhm." He hums and begins to do the buttons of my dress up.

"Thank you." I flash him a grateful smile and make my way over towards my vanity to do my make up as Tommy starts to change into one of the handful of suits that he leaves at my house.

This has sort of become the norm for us, Tommy spends the night, we spend a little too much time in bed in the morning until we ultimately have to get ready do the day and we have some banter whilst we get dressed and ready, the friendly banter is usually halted with kisses that make me feel warm inside as well as make my toes curl which always throws me off with how we can go from being best friends to acting like a couple in seconds.

I guess we are called friends with benefits.

Then we go downstairs and I make him breakfast, we talk about anything that's going on around us, business or people before our day starts and as soon as my front door swings open, we resort back to being best friends like we've always been, as if the night before didn't happen.

It didn't start like that.

At first it was strictly just sex. He'd only stay for a couple hours unless I really wore him out and he'd stay the night as much as he didn't particularly want to. We were kind of keeping it a secret from ourselves, reserving it strictly for behind closed doors, you wouldn't of suspected a thing; we slowly began moving forward, we stayed the night more, touches weren't just for nightfall anymore, and we knew where we stood with each other.

We don't refrain from showing each other affection anymore. Before this all happened Tommy and I would go through phases of giving each other affection but now it's different. I'd place a lot of money down for a bet to see if Tommy could walk past me without brushing his hand over my waist or back; he just subconsciously does it every time.

Sometimes there are moments where Tommy will be speaking with someone across the room or there's a family - even though I'm not family - meeting, and all I wanna do is just kiss him.

"You look nice." Tommy comments, coming up behind me as I'm putting some earrings in in front of my vanity mirror, bowing down to look at what I'm doing.

"Thank you." I reply as Tommy wraps his arms around my waist and leans down to press his chin to my shoulder blade, looking at me through the mirror. "You look alright."

Tommy flashes me a boyish smile before pecking the skin showing through the little triangle cut out in the back of my dress.

***

"See you tomorrow." I send Polly a smile when she makes her way out of the workplace.

"Bye, love." She mirrors my smile and closes the door behind her, leaving just a few Peakys peaking around.

Casting my eyes back to my desk, I carry on with my important task at hand before it swallows me whole.

As time goes by I sink further into my chair, the lights get softer as more people leave and my workload goes down. A loud groan disrupts my flow and it sounds like it's coming from Tommy's office.

Pushing my chair out, I head over Tommy's way not bothering to knock and I find him leaning back in his chair, looking stressed and defeated. His head whips up to look at me, his hard eyes softening when he sees it's just me.

"Why's it so dark in here?" I raise an eyebrow, noting the few lamps that are on in here, casting the room in a subtle orange glow when I walk towards him.

"Hurts my eyes." Tommy grumbles and I round his desk, taking a seat on his lap, his hand grazing my ass in the process.

"What's got you so gloomy?" I enquire, pressing a quick kiss to his jaw, feeling some tension release from his body as he settles into me.

"Just so much to do, so little time." Tommy replies with a soft sigh, placing his hand on my thigh and with his other hand he brushes some hair that got caught on my lipstick before he settles it around me.

"Seems that's how life's going these days." I mumble softly, sweeping the hair off of Tommy's forehead, causing him to close his eyes momentarily. "You should be careful not to overwork yourself, Tom. You make shit decisions when you're tired."

"What can I say? You tire me out." Tommy says with a fond smirk and slightly hooded eyes.

"You're a piece of work, got to put you to bed somehow." I fire back, matching his smirk.

Pressing my lips to the sensitive skin on his neck, working my way up towards his sharp jawline, Tommy lets out a satisfied sigh, beginning to properly relax. Connecting our lips in a sweet and short kiss, Tommy squeezes my thigh as I kiss him one time, two times, three times before going back to his neck.

"Mr Shelby?" Someone calls from behind the closed door with a hesitant knock.

We're too far gone to really care who it is or what they want so Tommy sighs and grants them entrance as I continue to work my magic on him. In comes a new lower ranked Peaky Blinder who's eyes widen at the sight of us, which it would be shocking to see us right now as everyone assumes we're still just best friends but here I am sat comfortably on Tommy's lap, marking him up.

"What can I do for you, Frank?" Thomas questions, trailing his hand up my thigh.

This poor boy is speechless, not knowing how to react and he looks like he wants to get out of this room as soon as possible.

"Uh, I just came in here to tell you that I've uh finished everything you asked me to do and it uhh all went smoothly." Frank states with anything but confidence.

"Great, thanks." Tommy responds, tilting his head to the side to give me more space.

Frank escapes the room as soon as possible and I chuckle at the hard working boy. We both know that he'd never utter a word to anyone about what he saw, that's why we didn't freak out. The boy want to go up in this company and he'll do anything to please anyone higher than him; he's too gentle and easily persuaded for this world.

"Is that everyone gone?" Tommy asks me.

"Should be." I confirm with a small nod.

"Perfect."

The next thing I feel is Tommy's hand creeping up my skirt.

***

"What?" Tommy utters, staring at a lower ranked Peaky Blinder with an ice cold stare.

"It's not my fault! I tried to get him to agree but---"

"Not your fault? This whole plan went down the drain because of you!" Tommy states, not believing the man.

"He had a gun to my head, what was I supposed to do?!" Matthew asks outraged.

"You should taken someone fucking with you, not just thought that you knew best! You need a wake up call because if you want to remain in this company you should know that that shit doesn't fly around here. Could've taken John, Arthur, Cora, fuck, even Michael for fuck sake, not just make decisions as you go along." Thomas retorts, frustrated beyond belief as he rubs his hands over his face.

"What's all the shouting about?" Polly questions as she comes up beside me from being in another room.

"Mathew fucked up and gave away Tommy's plans and shit, along with some other stuff that i don't quite know the details of, so Tom's losing his shit." I fill her in, looking up at her from where I'm sitting and she's standing.

"How the fuck did that happen?" She asks, confused.

"He ran into some trouble on the way or something, I'm not sure, I only came in half way through." I take an unsure guess.

"Men." She shakes her head, letting out a sigh.

"Boys." I correct, making her cackle as she turns to move further into the room.

"I don't need a babysitter, and I sure as hell am not gonna take a female with me." Mathew states in defence, his so called manhood damaged by the thought of a woman being able to do his job better than him.

Tommy huffs a small laugh.

"I wear heels bigger than your dick!" I joke from across the room, not taking his serious comment seriously.

"Just get out of my sight before I force you to." Tommy huffs, turning around and heading up to his office, not being gentle with the door as he closes it behind him.

"I'll go talk to him." I roll my eyes, getting up out of my chair, grabbing the knife from off my desk with me. "And you..." I start, showing Mathew my weapon. "Try not to be a sexist twat next time you're even vaguely threatened by a woman. We hold a lot more power than you can, so remember that next time." I give him a sly wink as I twirl the extremely sharp knife around my fingers.

Heading into Tommy's office, I lean against the door after I close it, watching Tommy lean over his desk, head hung low, tension present in his muscles.

"What is it with people not sticking to the plan?" Tommy grumbles, not bothering to turn around and face me.

"Some people think they know best, I guess." I say, coming up behind him and wrapping my arms around his waist, feeling some tension leave his body.

"He's my employee, this is not what I'm employing him for. I'm not paying him to fuck up." Tommy shakes his head as I press my cheek against his back.

"I know." I say, knowing he doesn't really want me to say anything, he just needs comforting and someone to vent to.

"This whole plan has gone to shit, I've spent weeks trying to perfect it, and the easiest task got fucked." He huffs.

"You shouldn't of trusted him to it, the man can't even tie a tie." I state, looking out of the window.

"I just thought I'd give him a chance, a try, whatever, but I shouldn't of." Tommy replies, lifting his head up.

"You learn from these things, got to know where you stand with the people around you." I tell him, moving my hands from around his waist to hooking under his shoulders.

"I guess, but I just expected more from him." Tommy responds.

And so I let my best friend vent some more, not just about this incident but anything that's on his mind, only replying when I feel the need to, and I think it worked because he's not all worked up anymore, the tension has dropped in his body, and he seems at peace.

"Thank you." Tommy utters, taking my face in his hands.

"For what?" I breathe a small laugh, holding onto his forearms.

"For just always being there for me, day or night, for the big things and the small things, I don't know how I could ever thank you enough." He says, stepping into my bubble, looking more sincere than ever.

"You do the same for me, that's more than enough." I assure, looking deep into his deep blue eyes. "Thank you for being my best friend."

Tommy smiles a small smile, before giving me a kiss, pulling me impossibly close to him, both of our smiles growing.

***

Glancing over towards the clock on the bedside table, seeing the time reads 6:30, I've got a long day ahead of me and I need to catch up on quite a few things as I seem to be slacking because I've been spending all my time with the duvet hogger to the left of me.

Granted it's not my house or room so I have no claim on it, but I seem to spend more time here than my own house; it feels more like home here, anyway.

Letting out a quiet yawn, I look over at Cora next to me, seeing how she's dead to the world looking effortlessly gorgeous whilst she's fast asleep. Her dark hair is splayed out on her pillow, her long eyelashes resting on her cheeks, and her bare shoulders are poking out of the duvet, with a small sun spot shining on her, and she just looks so pretty.

It feels weird not waking up next to her nowadays, it feels so natural seeing her warming up the other half of either mine or her's bed.

Sitting up, I shuffle out of bed and start to get dressed and I can't help but think of how I could get used to this.

Beginning to get ready for the day without waking up Cora, I don't bother with breakfast as I just don't have the time. Doing a once over in the mirror, I head over to Cora who's half awake to let her know that I'm leaving.

"Cora, lovie." I say softly, placing my hand on her exposed arm.

"Hm?" She hums, giving me a peak of her green eyes as she purses her lips briefly.

"'M gonna head into work now, I'll see you later on, eh?" I inform, watching her slowly wake up.

"Okay, have fun." Cora wishes, readjusting the sheet on her bare chest.

"Oh I'll try." I joke, brushing some hair away from her face with a fond smile. "I'll see you later." I tell her, planting a quick kiss on her lips.

She chuckles.

"Look at us, like an old married couple, who'd of thought?"

"Terrifying." I laugh, asking her laugh as I leave the room with a smile on my face that stays on my face until I open the front door, and as I'm walking to work I can't help but think that that doesn't sound so bad.

Leaning back in my chair, I grab a cigarette and flick my lighter against the end, quickly exhaling what I inhale before clearing my throat a little.

"I look forward to what the future holds for us, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo states, clearly chuffed with the way this meeting went.

"As do I, Mr Cliffo, as do I." I reply, wanting to get him out of my office as soon as possible as I've still got so much to do today.

"You've got a nice thing going on here, great business attitude, trust worthy co workers, it seems like your family really has its heart in this company." Mr Cliffo drawls, looking around the room.

"Yes, all of us here believe in this company and always want to strive closer towards our goals and ambitions." I nod, bringing my cigarette to my mouth again.

"I have to ask as curiosity has gotten the best of me, where's the woman that usually attends our meetings?" Mr Cliffo questions, and I sigh, it seems like everyone takes interest in my best friend nowadays.

She's extremely captivating and has a mysterious aura to her, Cora just has this way of drawing you in and making you want to know as much about her as possible.

"Busy." I inform, watching him carefully, how he has a ghost of smile on his face and seemingly looking back on his few interactions with her.

"I've missed her little quips and ideas." He tells me.

Widening my eyes as I let out an exasperated huff, I stand up and head towards the door, hopefully giving him the hint to get the fuck out of my office.

Which he does, so he stands up whilst doing the buttons of his blazer up, approaching me by the door.

"Pretty little thing she is." He says fondly, but not in a creepy way just a genuine compliment.

"She's certainly a head turner." I nod, not being able to deny it.

"Well, I must get going, errands to run." Mr Cliffo states and opens the door. "I'm sensing a promising future here, Mr Shelby."

"I'll look forward to it." I say, escorting him out to hurry him up.

We enter the main room where everyone seems to be, the shouting across the room and bustling noises greet us.

"Have a good day, Mr Shelby." Mr Cliffo bids and we shake hands briefly before he leaves, leaving me to head into John's office to relay some information about the meeting I just had.

"Good meeting?" John questions as I lean against the door frame.

"As good as a meeting with Mr Cliffo can go." I half joke, folding my arms.

"Still a boring middle aged fuck?" John laughs, dropping his pen.

"More of less." I confirm with a small chuckle.

I'm half way through telling John about what happened and our plans when there's a commotion on the other side of the room. I look over my shoulder and find Cora pinning Mr Cliffo against the wall with the knife that she keeps in her stockings under his chin

He looks sheepish, slightly terrified, and completely taken of guard whilst she looks dangerous, pissed off and not the slightest bit hesitant.

"What the fuck is goin' on?" John enquires, joining me in the doorway. "Fuck yeah, I love when she brings the knives out." He practically cheers for her.

"Touch me or any of the woman in here again and you won't see the next sunrise." Cora promises, and in some weird way I can't help but smile a little as she looks so natural at this.

"What's some woman gonna do?" Mr Cliffo attempts to belittle her in order to save his so called manhood.

That's not what he was saying about her earlier.

Cora sharply brings her knee to his crotch making him pale and let out an agonising groan. The impact enough to make any man wince.

"First time a woman's touched your dick in years, is it?" She taunts, pushing the knife into his skin.

He can't get any words out, clearly in too much pain.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" She all but smirks. "Get out of here before you do something you'll regret." Cora states and Mr Cliffo stumbles out of the door, no doubt planning to avoid this building for the rest of his life.

"Fucking hell, I learnt the day I met her not to fuck with Cora Witton and I'm still scared of her." John tells me, subtly interlacing his hands over his crotch making me breathe a laugh.

"Ladies." Cora grins at the women who she just protected from Mr Cliffo, and they mirror her smile.

"She may be small but she will hurt you." I comment watching her tuck her knife back in her stocking, not caring that people can see.

"No hesitation." John adds before he goes back to his desk.

"What the fuck were you thinking doing business with him?" Cora questions as she comes up to me, not mad just curious.

"We've worked with him before, thought I'd take it further." I shrug.

"And after each meeting he grabs my ass." She rolls her eyes, mirroring my folded arms.

"That's him?" I raise an eyebrow, surprised.

"Kinda." She nods, widening her eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't know, lovie." I say softly before kissing her cheek breifly. "This is why I need you in my meetings, give me honest and better judgement."

"Speaking of which, business is done and dealt with, Finn and Isiah are just finishing it up." Cora informs.

"Did it go smoothly?" I question, staring down at her.

"More or less." She nods and she's about to explain before Michael calls her over. "I'll tell you later." Cora tells me, gently fixing my tie before she heads over to Michael.

"You're close." John states, a teasing tone creeping into his voice along with the growing smirk.

"Fuck off." I grumble and leave his doorway, entering mine.

***

"Hi." Cora sings when she enters my office, an unfamiliar baby on her hip.

"Who's this?" I question, leaning back in my chair.

"My neighbour's son." She says, tucking some blonde hair behind the baby's ear.

"It's illegal to take people's children, Cora." I tell her, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

"My neighbour needed someone to watch him for like 15 minutes." She informs, sitting down in the chair opposite me, situating the young boy on her lap who's fascinated with the bracelet on her wrist.

"What's his name?"

"Ronnie."

"Is this the neighbour that complained about the noise?" I ask, with a cheeky smirk

"Yeah, I still can't look them in the eye." She bashfully answers, smiling through the pain.

I laugh as I look back on that experience, it traumatised her so much that we did all our rendezvous on my house for the next month until people started getting suspicious so we went back to her house most of the time.

"You do a lot of things, Cora, yet you can't look your neighbour in the eyes because they heard us one time." I state, amused.

"Uh, I highly doubt it was just the once." She confidently claims.

"Why don't you just move somewhere more remote?" I suggest, already knowing the answer.

"I can't! I love my place, you know that." Cora replies, readjusting Ronnie on her lap. "Isn't that right, Mr Ronnie?" She coos.

I rest my chin on my palm, hiding my smile behind my knuckles. She looks like such a natural with him and seeing her with a baby makes a weird thought come into mind and I can't help but entertain that thought.

Half of me and half of her, dear god help the child who's cursed with that.

A sarcastic and cocky bastard riddled with trauma and seemingly never ending problems.

I'm not planning on having a child with Cora ever, but the idea is entertaining and gives me an odd feeling.

She'd be an amazing mum, she would do anything for anyone that she loves, and to receive her love is one of the greatest things in the world. As I'm looking at her now, I want some of that.

I'd like a beautiful baby who's half me and half her.

"What you daydreaming about, Shelby?" Cora brings me out of the thoughts I'd never utter to her.

"Nothing." I shake my head, and try to busy myself with the work in front of me.

"In all the years I've known you, Tommy, there's always something in your head." Cora says knowingly, a teasing smile creeping on her face.

"Not true." I deceive.

"I'll find out, some day, I always do."

Not even over my dead body.

"Are you coming over tonight?" She questions, crossing her legs.

"Depends, do you want me to?" I retort, looking over at her.

"I think you know the answer to that." Cora tells me, meeting my eyes, a sly glint prevalent in her eyes.

"No?" I guess.

"Of course I do." She chuckles, her smile lighting up the room.

"Tell you what, I'll finish this in the next... 20 minutes/half an hour then we'll head over to your flat, and see where the evening takes us." I suggest, despite the fact that I still got at least a third of work to do today but this girl just does things to me.

"You and I both know exactly where the evening will take us." Cora laughs, running her hand through her hair.

"The sooner we're out of here, the sooner we can get there." I reply, sending her a knowing look.

"Sounds like a plan." Cora grins, gathering Ronnie before leaving the room.

***

"Ready?" I ask, brushing my hand over Cora's shoulder as I walk past her.

"Mhm, just need to give this to Michael." She hums, getting out of her chair to head over to Michael as I get my coat.

"Where are you two going?" Polly muses, leaning back almost smugly in her chair, a cigarette burning in her fingers.

"Home." I answer, turning to look at her.

"Early for you." Polly acknowledges, looking as if she knows something I don't.

"Maybe so, Pol, maybe so." I nod as Cora walks over towards us.

"Ready?" She questions and I nod before I guide us out of here by draping my arm over her shoulders, opening the front door, seeing its beginning to rain. "Shit, I didn't bring a coat." Cora pouts.

"I did." I smugly say, stepping outside and she tugs at the sleeves of her dress until she steps out, too.

We begin to walk the 15 minute walk to Cora's place, chatting about random things on the way, the rain only getting heavier; luckily we're sheltered by the roofs of the houses hanging over the pavement.

"No one annoys me more than my sister, not even you and you're really high up there, like too high." She tells me, making me grin, that's my favourite pastime.

"It's just so easy to do, nothing amuses me more than when you're annoyed." I chuckle, looking down at her annoyed glare and feigning pain when she punches me in the arm, watching her fold her arms to keep herself warm.

"I retract my statement, you annoy me the mos---" she cuts herself off when I drape my coat over her shoulders. "Tommy Shelby, you're so romantic." Cora laughs, a teasing glint in her eyes.

"I try." I mumble, with a small smile as we turn a corner.

"Fuckin' hell, rain's giving no mercy." She points out, and we both look out at the rain that's pelting down, making puddles and leaking through unlucky people's roofs.

Luckily we're sheltered by said roofs; for now.

Grabbing Cora's hand, I pull her out of the protection of the roofs into the rain, making her squeal and laugh which is just music to my ears as I laugh along with her.

"Tommy!" She exclaims and I pull her into my arms, pressing her against me as our hair and clothes get soaked.

"Cora!" I imitate to annoy her, as she wraps her arms loosely around my neck, bringing us even closer. I look into her eyes, seeing how carefree she looks, how much her face is lit up, the smile that always makes me weak in the knees, and how happy she looks, it makes me unbelievably happy. "Kiss me."

"What? Out in open? People can see us, rumours will spread." Cora tells me as she sweeps some soaked hair off my forehead and to the side.

"So? People are already suspicious." I shrug, cupping her cheek. "Kiss me."

She breathes a laugh before pressing her lips to mine, the both of us smiling into it.

I've never smiled as much as the time I spend with this girl.

We stand in the middle of the road, raining cats and dogs on us, intertwined with each other, more than just physically, out in the open.

Pulling back slowly, we take each other in with soft eyes and smiles, and as I'm looking at her right now, all I can feel is love.

I'm in love with my best friend.

Deeply in love.

I could call myself crazy but the way she's looking at me right now and how she's making me feel, I'd say she feels the exact same.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, aching to be said but I'm not brave enough, so I settle with kissing her again instead.

I'm scared to the bone but I'm also kind of revelling in it as it's a new feeling and fuck does it feel good.

"You look pretty in the rain."

"As do you."

***

After a successful business move that we've all been hard at work on for the past month, that called for a celebration, right? Which is why we're in The Garrison this evening, nestled in the private room full of Shelbys, Grays, and a few other Peakys including myself.

Which is predictably chaos.

"To business." Michael toasts, holding his drink up.

"To business." We all toast, clinking glasses.

"Michael, for fucks sake, you've made that toast like 10 times tonight." John groans, rubbing his forehead clearly exasperated.

"I'm a little drunk, and you keep joining so you're all as bad as me." Michael states, and there's some truth to his words.

We're all a little drunk, some more than others. Not to name names or anything but I'm definitely looking at Arthur, Finn and possibly Polly, not to mention Michael. The rest of us are tipsy, definitely feeling the buzz in our systems, but not off our face.

Although that might change as the night goes on.

"To business!" Arthur vindicates, and I groan, making Tommy chuckle.

"On behalf of my family, I am so sorry." Tommy jokes from beside me.

"What is it with you Shelbys and your liquor?" I question, leaning my head on his shoulder as I look at him.

"Born with it in our bloodstreams." Tommy tells me, brushing his fingertips against my arm as his arm is draped around the back of my part of the booth.

We're kind of in our own bubble in the corner, occasionally piping up with a quip or an opinion but we're mainly talking to each other like we've always done in these sort of circumstances.

"I assume you came out of the womb with a cigarette too, right?" I tease, crossing my legs.

"Yeah, the midwife was waiting with a match." He jokes with a small laugh, his smile staying on his face.

"I can't imagine you as a child. Of course I've known you since we were in year 9, and I'd seen you around a few times in secondary school, but to imagine you as an 8 year old is really hard." I tell him, smiling at the thought.

"Well first of all I was adorable, let's get that out of the way." Tommy states, trying to conceal his smirk.

"You still are!" I tease, earning myself a blank look.

"The ladies loved me." He continues.

"Even with your bad haircut?" I laugh, I've heard so much about his haircuts in the past that family members did for him.

"That's what brought them in, you whore." Tommy laughs which makes me laugh.

"Of course, all that extra hair just propelled these so called ladies to you."

"Exactly." He confirms as if it's obvious. "I've heard stories from your childhood from your family or partners." Tommy informs, a mischievous look in his eyes

"You know only what I want you to know."

"You're forgetting that I know every single thing about you, everything." Tommy says, nudging his knee against mine.

"I highly doubt that, every single thing? Really?" I question, nudging him back.

"Yeah."

"How old was I when I stopped hating you?" I test him, turning slightly to look at him.

"Trick question, you never stopped." Tommy answers, grinning because he knows he's right and I huff. "Yet you still suck my dick almost every night." He mumbles, making me punch him which only makes him laugh.

"I don't hear you complaining." I retort.

"I'd never." Tommy shakes his head. "Why don't we go back to your place and I'll show you how appreciative I am." He suggest, placing his hand on my thing under the table.

"Don't you want to celebrate with your family?" I question, looking over at everyone who's more or less plastered.

"Lovie, you are my celebration." Tommy tells me fondly, tucking some hair behind my ear.

This is the thing with Tommy. He can make you feel so special and make you feel like you're the only person in the room, despite the fact that it's filled with loads of people. He can set off a load of fireworks inside of you without even really trying.

"How about you meet me in the back room in five minutes..." Tommy suggests, sending me a mischievous smile.

"Sounds like a plan." I reply, matching his smile.

"I'm gonna go get more alcohol." Tommy announces, but no one's really listening, and Tommy leaves the room, leaving me alone with his family.

"I'm so glad that I never have to talk to another Bulgarian in my life." Finn says, as I tune into the family's conversation.

"What if you fall in love with one one day?" I question and he turns to me.

"Simply impossible." Finn shakes his head.

"You can't control who you love; you can lie to yourself, deny yourself of it, but it'll always be there." I tell him, sitting up straight ready to go.

"You can definitely control who you love, I can also choose who, when, and where." Finn disagrees, taking a sip of his drink.

"Okay, say you chose to fall in love with the old lady that lives next door to you. Could you do that?" I question, watching him falter as everyone chuckles at him.

"What do you know about love anyway?" Finn asks in a grumble, downing the rest of his drink.

I know a little something about unrequited love.

"I got proposed to." I retort, sending him an obvious look.

"Which you laughed at before walking away from him." He argues, with a laugh.

"Broke the poor guy's heart in front of everyone." Arthur stifles a laugh, refilling his glass.

"Who proposes after 2 years together?" I question, folding my arms.

"Loads of people." John answers, an amused look on his face.

"Shit, maybe I don't know much about love." I join the laughter almost sheepishly.

"I love being in love, it's one of the best feelings in the world." Polly states, leaning back in her chair with a dazed look in her eyes.

"Love is whenever something happens in your life, good or bad, you immediately want to tell them. When you know you can go to them for anything. Knowing you can do anything and they'll always be there for you. When they can always make you laugh, despite anything. Just feeling at home with them, basically. Love is when they're your home." Arthur despite being drunk, eloquently speaks.

My mind instantly goes to Tommy.

He's all of that.

Always has been.

"Love is never far, it's always closer than you think." Polly states, and I look over at her and find that she's already looking at me. Her eyes boring into my soul.

"The only things I love in my life is me and my flat." I announce, and get up to go meet Tommy.

"What about me?" Finn questions, looking up at me with puppy-like look adorning his face.

"Aww." I smile and ruffle his hair. "No."

Opening the door to be greeted with the rest of The Garrison that isn't closed off, I step out and close the door behind me, my eyes scanning the room. Rolling my eyes when I see Tommy talking to some guy at the bar.

He spots me as I approach him, a small smile quirking at his mouth.

"Sorry, I've got some business to attend to." Tommy excuses himself and swiftly yet subtly follows me through the room.

"Is that what I am now? Business?" I tease, as we're out of earshot from anyone around us.

"No, you're a lot more fun than business." Tommy says, grabbing my hand as we push past the doors that lead to the backrooms down the long corridor.

"I don't know, sometimes you get quite excited when things are going well." I tell him, making him laugh which resonates in this empty corridor. "Although---"

I'm cut off by Tommy pressing me up against the wall as he attaches his mouth to mine eagerly. Cupping his face, I match his pace and pull him closer as he buries his fingers in my hair and pins me against the wall with his hips.

"You're so pretty, lovie." Tommy whispers, making me grin.

"So are you." I chuckle, knowing how much he hates when I call him pretty despite the tiny blush that flushes his cheeks.

"You just love to remind me that you're my best friend, don't you?" He asks with a smile.

"Yeah." I laugh and kiss him again before Tommy begins to guide us to a more private area as our kiss begins to heat up and hands are roaming.

The door slams against the wall as we enter a storage room that is surprisingly clean, the heavy wooden door closes itself and Tommy and I stumble our way through the room as our bodies heat up until we hit a wall, I let out a breathy moan at the sensation of being able to feel ever curve and dip of Tommy.

Disconnecting our lips, Tommy dips his head to attach his mouth to my neck as I pant, beginning to fiddle with the buttons of my dress.

"Uh, Tommy? Cora?" A voice hesitantly speaks up, and we freeze.

You could hear a pin drop.

I look to my left and see Michael staring at us with wide eyes, looking scared yet too shocked to really form an opinion.

"Hi, Michael." I sheepishly greet as Tommy drops his head to my shoulder in defeat briefly.

"Has this been going on this whole time?" Michael asks after some silence, rubbing his nose.

"What are you even doing here anyway, Michael?" Tommy asks, turning to face him.

"I was uh... meeting a friend." Michael says. "Not your kind of friend though."

I look past him and see the small container splayed out on some stacked up pallets. "Friend, really?"

"Yep." He nods, inhaling sharply as he refuses to look us in the eyes.

"Not doing lines off old rotting pallets?" I suggest, putting my weight on one foot.

"To--- Who are you to judge me when you guys are fucking or whatever under people's noses?" Michael accuses, acting out. "Has this been going this whole time? You've been sneaking around for years?"

"What does it matter to you?" Tommy and I say simultaneously.

"Are guys together or what?" Michael questions, looking between us.

Tommy and I look at each other, not being able to come up with an answer.

"How does it concern you with what we do privately?" Tommy questions, looking pissed.

"I don't know about priva---"

I cut Michael off as I push him against the wall, swiftly pulling my knife out and holding I under his chin whilst I have my hand pressed against his collar. "You say a fucking word to anyone, your mum, your friends, your butcher, your fucking dentist and you'll be fresh meat." I warn as I look into his blown out eyes. "Understand?"

"Cora---"

"Understand?" I repeat, pressing the blade into his skin.

"Yes, I won't utter a word!" Michael conforms, keeping eye contact.

"Good." I grin, and affectionately clap his cheek. "Tell your mum I'll be in late tomorrow." I inform as I put away my knife before stepping back to Tommy, who runs his hand down my back and rests it on the small of my back.

"We're trusting you, Michael." Tommy tells him, giving him a stern look before we head out the door.

"Stay off the snow will you, Michael?" I suggest over my shoulder before the door slams shut.

"You're so violent, like my little weapon." Tommy teases, intertwining our fingers and I squeeze his hand lightly.

"How much do you trust him?" I question, as we walk down the long corridor.

"As long as we've got you around, I'd say 100 per cent." Tommy jokes. "As long as we don't have any interactions like that again, I'd say he's pretty trust worthy."

"Right." I nod, taking in his words. "Back to my house?"

"We're still celebrating, aren't we?" Tommy states, making me chuckle but it's short lived as I can't help but frown when he drops my hand as we enter the open again.

My heart sinks.

"Just wanna remind you that we've got a wedding next week." Tommy says and I roll my eyes.

You forget one important shoot out that's been planned for months and suddenly he has to remind you of every important thing for the rest of time.

"You didn't propose though?" I reply, gliding through groups of people.

"I didn't?" He raises an eyebrow, looking down at me with a small smirk.

"No, you didn't." I shake my head, smiling.

"Oh, shame, you look good in white."

***

"Well Arthur, the big day's come." I say, as I flip my collar up to put my tie on.

"Indeed, it has indeed." Arthur nods, taking a seat on the large ottoman in the middle of the room.

"Our Arthur's finally settling down, eh?" John smirks as he looks in the mirror to do his hair again.

"God help Linda." Finn grumbles, slipping into his blazer.

"Already is." John widens his smirk.

"I don't see any of you getting married so fuck off." Arthur replies, disregarding John.

"To be fair, he's got a point... god can only do so much." I state, tightening my tie and putting my collar down.

"Oi, you can barely keep your woman on the reigns." Arthur retorts, pointing a finger at me, as the others snicker.

"I've not got a woman." I reply although I know who and what they're talking about.

"You know, the girl you're always around." Arthur tells me, and I huff with a small smile at their tomfoolery.

"You mean the girl who punched you and you practically cried when she was like 14?" I ask, pulling my cigarettes out.

"She'd fucking kill you if she knew you were talking about her like this, Arthur." Finn says, smirking.

"Even if she were my so called woman, not that you'd ever be able to make her conform to that title, she cannot be owned. Not just because of feminism but she's too wild for that, she'd also punch me and that hurts." I state, lighting my cigarette.

"I think it's the other way 'round." John muses, gesturing with his cigar. "She's got you on the reigns."

"Have any of you lot seen Cora?" Polly asks as she bursts into the room, dressed in a fancy dress.

"No."

"Not seen her all morning."

"Not seen her since this morning."

"Me either."

"Fuck sake. She can do everything but turn up on time." Polly grumbles, shaking her head. "Well come on then. Time's getting on and the bride won't wait forever."

We all exit the room one by one, following Polly through the building but we stop short when we see Cora stepping into the entrance hall, looking up at the ceiling as she lights a cigarette, showcasing the thin but long scar on her throat that gave me nightmares when it happened.

"Shelbys!" She beams when she sees us, taking a drag of her cigarette, looking temptingly appetising.

"What time do you call this, Witton?" Polly barks, sending daggers Cora's way.

"There's plenty of time! Don't worry about it." Cora waves Polly off but all I can focus on is how good she looks.

Her dress has a few layers of thin, see through tulle with flowers embroidered into it, the underneath is a champagne sort of pink coloured dress that shines through subtly, the length sinks all the way down to her feet, it's cinched in at the waist with a controversial slit at the side showcasing her leg, and her sleeves are made of the same see through tulle that hangs off her shoulders to tickle her elbow in waves. Her hair is pinned up with a handful of thick curls dangling around her face, and her make up is subtle which really makes her green eyes pop.

She looks like an angel to put it simply.

"Careful, you'll catch flies." John smirks, elbowing me.

I push him back making him knock into Finn which causes him to start an argument.

The art of diversion.

"Nice dress." I comment when she looks over at me.

"Thanks, it has pockets." Cora replies, giving me a demonstration.

"Thought it was supposed to be the bride who's the prettiest today." I state quietly as no one seems to be listening to us.

"Aw, you're too kind." She smiles before pecking my cheek and guiding us towards the church.

***

An around of applause and cheers resonate in the tall church as Arthur and Linda kiss, I can't help but smile at the happy couple.

"How long?" Tommy jokes when he mumbles into my ear.

"Stop!" I laugh, continuing to clap.

"We're married!" Arthur announces as he and Linda turn to face everyone with grins.

Another round of applause goes around the room, mixed with whistles, hoots, and cheers. Arthur and Linda walk down the aisle as a newly wedded couple before everyone slowly begins to follow them for photos outside.

"I can't imagine you getting married." Tommy states when we stand up.

"I'm hurt, Thomas." I reply, shuffling out of the pew.

"You seem too... independent and strong." Tommy digs himself a bigger hole.

"What? So the point of marriage is supposed to break me?" I question with a chuckle.

"No, just the traditional way is that you'd stay at home, looking after the children, cooking or baking, and waiting for your husband to come home." He answers. "And that's not you... but I like that about you."

"I'm never stopping for some man, men don't deserve rights." I shake my head.

"Oh right." Tommy laughs, slinging his arm around my shoulders as we walk down the aisle. "I guess you work with a lot of males so you can say that."

"Thank you, for letting me, a woman, know what I can say and what I'm allowed to say, thank you husband." I joke and he bumps his hip against mine in response.

"The nagging wife part though, you've got that down." Tommy replies, weaving us through people as I lace our hands together with the hand that was dangling in front of my chest from where his arm is draped over my shoulders.

"Fuck off." I laugh, the fresh spring air hitting my face as we enter the outside, gathering at the back of the large group of people posing for photos.

"You love it." He grins before pressing a kiss to my cheek as I laugh.

A flash blinds me momentary, and I inwardly groan.

A few more photos, Tommy and I trying to annoy each other, and laughs later and we head off to the party.

***

"I've known Arthur since I was like 15, it feels weird to watch him get married after all this time." I tell a stranger that I've been talking to for the past 10 minutes.

"I've grown up with Linda, I've not heard the end of this wedding since she was 10." Linda's cousin makes a joke which I fake laugh at, before taking a sip from my flute of champagne. "Are you getting married anytime soon?"

"Oh, no, god no." I shake my head, chuckling.

"Really? Aren't you with Arthur's brother, what's his name? Thomas is it?" She questions.

"Tommy? We're not really together, well we aren't... Thomas is amazing but..."

"But?" She smiles warmly as if she's just done something.

Why aren't we together is the better question, Tommy is everything I've ever wanted, he respects me, makes me feel like I'm more special that I am, is always there for me no matter what, and can make me feel so carefree, I'm in love with him but he's just not.

"But he isn't one for relationships." I answer. "I'm gonna go annoy some of your family, you make me think when I'm here to get drunk. I don't like that."

Her smile falls and I float off towards a group of strangers, ready to judge.

"I heard that the Shelbys shot someone who accidentally bumped into them once." A middle aged man says quietly.

Perfect, this is the group I want to annoy.

"Really? I heard that they give their children guns." A little younger woman matches his tone.

"That's nothing, I heard that they stab children who beg." I cut in, doing this big exaggerated look around the circle.

"I heard that they hurt people who gossip." Polly comes out of no where, and I can't help but smirk at her when she meets my eyes.

"Are you two Shelbys?" A snooty woman questions with a sigh before sipping her drink.

"No." I answer, which isn't a lie.

"I'm Arthur's aunt and she's his brother's girlfriend." Polly states and I glare at her, before tucking my hair behind my ear and subtly flipping her off, which she suppresses a smirk at.

"Oh, I see. You seem like lovely people." Another woman replies with a tight lipped smile.

"We are." I nod.

"If you stay on the right side of us." Polly adds, lighting a cigarette.

"But if you don't, we'll drag you through hell."

"Simple really." Polly shrugs lightly.

"Of course... we're family now, nothing but love." The same woman replies with a nervous laugh.

As Polly makes them more uncomfortable I look over my shoulder at Tommy across the room, who's sitting at a large table with a few people but I don't think he's interacting with anyone really, cigarette and liquor in hand. He gives me a wink which makes me smile, and he gestures for me to come over with a nod of his head.

Leaving the group and Polly, I cross the room all the way to my best friend who takes a drag from his cigarette as I stand behind him and wrap my arms around his shoulders, letting my hands dangle above his chest life a necklace.

"Are you done antagonising Linda's family?" Tommy questions with a tiny chuckle.

"Not yet. They're so judgy." I reply, accepting Tommy cigarette when he offers it to me.

"Where do you think Linda gets it from?" He rhetorically asks.

"You look very pretty." I inform, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead when he looks up at me.

"If I look pretty you must be the prettiest person in the world." Tommy says, fiddling with my hands.

"Always a charmer you Shelbys." I tease.

"Eh we know how to talk the talk." He jokes, squeezing my hand. "Do you wanna dance?"

I look out at the dance floor where all the couples seem to be, it's a little bit crowded but seems comfortable.

"Sure." I nod and Tommy stands up before offering his hand with a boyish smile.

I match his smile and take his hand, Tommy leads us to the dance floor where I place my hand on his shoulder, keeping the other comfortably in his hand, whilst Tommy places his hand on my lower back. The song is quite a fast paced one, so there's no room for a slow dance.

Tommy and I expertly shuffle through the dance floor, him twirling me out every now and then, as we talk and laugh. "Why are old ladies so judgy?"

"I don't know, their better days are behind them and they can't get over that." Tommy offers an amused suggestion.

"I think it's because they---" I cut myself off with a squeal when Tommy surprises me by twirling me out into the dance floor making me laugh. "Give me a warning next time!"

He just smiles down at me as he looks into my eyes. "No, I like making you laugh."

"You always make me laugh, especially with your questionable choices." I tease, squeezing his hand. "I mean what were you thinking letting Finn---"

"I'm not going into this again, he wanted to do it and who am I to say no?" Tommy replies with a light laugh. "That would make both of us a hypocrite."

"We were more mature at the time..."

"Oh really? That's what you call maturity?" Tommy questions amused, as we swiftly move through the crowd as the song begins to end.

"We may have broken a few things but there's no harm done." I state, letting Tommy spin me one last time before a slower song comes on and we match our dancing to the rhythm.

"Sure, no harm done." He mocks me with a laugh, which makes me laugh.

Thomas sways us through the bunches of people as we lapse into a comfortable silence, settling into our own worlds.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Cora." Tommy tells me, continuing to sway us as he looks deep into my eyes and it feels like he's looking into my soul.

All I can do is smile.

"Yeah? You think?" I chuckle and he matches my smile.

"Mm." He hums, with a nod.

"That's alright, because I think I'm falling in love with you, too." I reply, causing him to break out into the biggest smile.

We pause our moving, standing still amongst all the other couples dancing. Tommy cups my face with his hands and goes to kiss me. "What about your family?" I question, when were mere inches away.

He smiles. "Fuck 'em, they all practically know anyway."

I reply by closing the gap between us, kissing my best friend in the middle of the dance floor as couples dance around us whilst we're stood still, in the midst of his brother's wedding. Tommy's thumb brushes my cheekbone gently as we stand in our own bubble, oblivious to what's going on around us, smiling into our kiss.

"I love you, Cora Witton." Tommy utters, pressing his forehead against mine with a smile.

"I love you, Tommy Shelby." I utter back, kissing him again which makes my toes curl.

"What do you say we finish this dance, get a little drunk, and then go home?" Tommy suggests, tucking some hair behind my ear. "If you can handle Linda's stare that long that is because from where I'm looking, she doesn't look that happy that we stole the spotlight from her on her wedding day." Tommy chuckles, looking over my shoulder at his family.

I look over at them too, seeing how they look shocked yet look like they expected it, and I meet Linda's glare, happy at how I've pissed her off.

"You're such an attention whore." I joke, looking back at Tommy.

"You know it." He smirks and begins to sway us again.

It feels like everything I've ever worked for in my life has led up to this moment. This is what I get after years of struggling, and fuck is it worth it.

"I want this song to play at our wedding."

"Oh, we're getting married now are we?" I chuckle fondly, liking the sound of that.

"If all goes to plan, yeah."

[choicesenthusiast]

Representation at Pixelberry: The Follow-Up

One year ago, on June 15, 2020, Pixelberry released a statement regarding representation at the company. Here is the LINK to the original blog post, and here was MY RESPONSE. Oh, how naïve and optimistic I was. It contained a list of goals and promises they hoped to accomplish within a year. Well, a year has passed, and here is my attempt to hold PB accountable. I'll be going over the five main points of their representation plan and if they achieved what they promised. All criticisms are about content released after June 15th. Long post beware, but I'm not putting it under a read more because I feel like it's important for all to see.

1. Commitment to diversity of Love Interests - FAIL

We’ve already been moving towards having Love Interests have customizable skin tones. We will continue to do this with some stories, while also having some characters with clear ethnic identities. At the same time when we have multiple love interests of different ethnicities, we are aiming for those Love Interests to have equal game time.

"LIs with customizable skin tones" mean they come in three flavours: white, black, and ambiguously Asian/Latinx interchangeably. So far I have rarely seen an LI as connected to their culture/ethnicity as Rafael Aveiro, and he just talked about his Vovo's food if he ever were on screen. They had many chances with the other OH LIs as well. Even Ayna Seth and Tatum Mendoza were confirmed to be Indian and Filipino, respectively, though FA gets a little leeway, as it was set in a fictional west-European continent.

As for equal game time? I'm sure the biggest example we can all think of was the mess that was Open Heart 3, which was written during the hiatus (which only existed because they were going to straight up kill Rafael in Book 2). Game time was not equal among LIs, and the white male LI was heavily favoured. PB also continues to pay female LIs dirt by giving them no screen time. In addition to that, LGBT+ players, who are consistently underrepresented, receive one (1) unprepared pride month survey, prpbably only because someone asked them about it on Twitter.

This is the meat and potatoes of everything because it's what they're outputting to their audience. It's what the people see. Given that things haven't been going so well lately in this department, consider this promise a big fat fail.

2. More authentic and diverse hairstyles for people of color - QUESTIONABLE

Our team will focus on providing more authentic and representative hairstyles. We are prioritizing these hairstyles outside of our normal book processes and will introduce them in new books as they are ready.

While, yes, they have added two new hairstyles in WEH, they also just took Jade Bonet's hair and recycled it for LoA F!MC. PB recycles all their hair more often than not.

3. More diverse book covers - QUESTIONABLE

This is an initiative we started in January of this year. As a result the number of Black, Latinx, Asian, Native American, Pacific Islander, mixed, and other characters on new book covers increased from 35% of characters in 2019 to 60% characters in the first half of 2020. However, the number of black characters is still not high enough this year. More are already scheduled for books later this year. We will make sure that Black characters are well represented on our covers in the future.

"Diverse" does not just mean by race, but also gender, sexual orientation, etc. FA has the only recent MLM cover. And don't tell me that the FA and LoA covers are any different from each other. The only black characters on covers are Zoey Wade (QB), and Black!Gabe Ricci (LoA) and Bastien (WB), which aren't even their canon races unless you choose them to be. This is the case for many single-LI books, such as Cassian Keane (W:ABR, which technically premiered on Mar. 16, but the sentiment is the same), Sam Dalton (TNA), and Dakota Winchester (WEH). Not to mention the customizable/multi LI books like DS, RT, BaBu2, MTFL, etc. Majority of these covers are just cishet couples delicately cradling each other's bodies or whatever. And we're not even gonna get into how PB literally put the Open Heart LIs in order of their favouritism on Book 3's cover.

4. Writers/Staff - QUESTIONABLE

We will be engaging in professional training on historical and current racism for our writers to ensure more of them have a better understanding and more context for views of diverse characters in Choices. We will also create a program that gives more authority to people of color in the studio to advise writers and artists on more authentic portrayals in both writing and art of black, brown, and minority characters.

A story with a Black-led cast is something I have asked for in the past, but failed to follow-up on. We will very likely start this with a Black-led cast story led by Chelsa, one of Pixelberry's Black writers.

We will increase the number of diverse writers we source for new stories, starting with hiring more Black and Latinx writers to lead the charge.

For all teams at Pixelberry we will actively work to bring in more Black and Latinx candidates with the goal to increase the number of Black and Latinx employees at Pixelberry. Although Pixelberry is over 50% female, on teams where females are not at 50% we will actively work to source more female candidates.

This promise seemed like a copout from the start because we have no way of knowing who works on what at PB unless we very meticulously stalk their LinkedIn or Twitter or whatever. We have no solid statistics except for what they feed us. I do know, however, that they recently let the Ms. Match writers go and were hiring for external writers, but there really is no way of knowing what's going on behind-the-scenes with their 112+ employees, and of course there would be NDAs involved. We are yet to see a book with an all-Black cast, and receive rare development updates with new books. Actually, I think a really good way to promote diversity is to do staff showcases on their social media. Just a way to show the public who's responsible for what. Writers, game devs, the art team, etc. Don't think it'll happen, but it's always a good idea.

5. Donations - QUESTIONABLE

Pixelberry will also be making $100,000 in donations to Black Girls Code, the Black Writers Collective, and the Latinx Writers Collective at Techqueria. Rather than as a lump sum, we will be making these donations over the course of a year to remind us that we are not making short term changes, but are committed to long term sustainable actions. We’ll also be donating up to an additional $100k from profits for this week, 6/15-6/21.

There has been no proof, no receipts, no evidence from PB that they have donated anything to anyone, and as far as we're concerned, their word doesn't mean anything. No news or updates news about it. I would love to believe that they did something, but as you can see, I've become quite the pessimist. BWC still uses PB's old logo (like, pre-Choices) on their sponsors page, and the last interaction they've had with BGC was in 2013. They don't even follow each other on Instagram. In fact, BGC received a huge donation from MacKenzie Scott, formerly Bezos last July. Yes, that billionaire Bezos, and that got coverage from them. Obviously donations don't need to be for publicity, but in this case I think it's important there should be proof. Again, it's really hard to tell with these behind-the-scenes things, but given how PB loves to gloat and hates to keep promises, we can assume that none of this happened.

~~~

So, what's the takeaway? That PB's fallen down the drainhole of shitty content and empty promises and has no intention of climbing out as long as they still make that bank? Seems counterproductive, because good representation gets good feedback and income. They pump out bad books with barebones "representation" if you can call it that, then drop their precious merch and pretend all is fine and dandy. But just as I suspected one year ago, none of this matters, because people forget things, and people move on, and shit gets swept under rugs. Yet, here I am, yelling at a company in a post I for sure doubt they'll see. Because if not me, then who?

@playchoices Your move. It's been your move for a year now. When will you actually make it?

[redhairedfeistynerd]

Slush and a Side of Toys

Part 1

A/N: I'm months behind on everything but here is my piece for @sweater-daddiesdumbdork  and @sagechanoafterdark  Winter/Holiday Festival Challenge. I chose #38 donating toys to children.

Pairing: Chris Evans x reader

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, angst, frustrated reader, swearing, alcohol

Words: 5800+

Part 2 will be up soon!!

Please like, comment and reblog. I appreciate it and thanks for reading.

All mistakes are my own

A reminder - my work is not to be reposted anywhere.

There’s a muffled humming coming from somewhere under a pile of paperwork and takeout containers on your floor. The sound is constant, piercing, and irritating. Eyes still closed, head pounding from an evening of too much wine and schmoozing, you reached down towards the sounds and ran your hands over the stack, following the vibrations of your phone. Once found, you yanked it away from it charging cord and used every ounce of energy you had, pulling the phone close to your face. Opening one eye a sliver to hide from the light, you read from the bright screen.

Hey, listen, I know we've had our differences the last few years but I think it's time we put all of it behind us. I saw Rosie the other day and asked her how you were doing but she kept it pretty vague. I hope to hear from you soon, even if it's only a text to say you’re doing okay.

Reading over the message a second time, in utter shock that he had the audacity to message you and pissed that he even dare ask your friend about how you were; you decided to turn off your phone and toss it into a pile of clothing on the floor.  

What. A. Dick.

Rolling back over into your cozy blanket cocoon, falling back asleep, temporarily pushing away any thoughts of the man from your past.

The message was all but forgotten until later that day when a familiar song came on the radio and you couldn’t help but think about how you had both downed several beers at a pub and sang it at the top of your lungs. Maybe it had been a dream earlier and the text never happened. Pulling your phone from your back pocket, hoping it was all your imagination, you indeed saw that there was a text.

The ever-so-hard to escape blue eyed man, was trying to weasel his way back into your life and you weren't having any of it. Dropping the phone into the bag sitting at your feet, getting up from the desk, shaking out a bit to ease the tension that one tiny text had accumulated.  

"Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think about him," you repeated the words over and over, hoping to push all thoughts aside. In stocking feet, walking around the small hole you called your office and continued to shake it out. The calm didn’t last as long as you hoped, anger slowly creeping up and out.  

"Stupid frikkin guy!! UGH!" The sound of your disgruntled cry, shook you a bit, the frustration clearly coming out louder than expected. "All right, settle yourself down, you can't let him have this sort of pull over you," hoping the self-talk would work, you ran your hand through your hair and walked back to the desk. "Delete it, pretend that you never looked at it and it will go away."  

There was no way the struggle going on inside your head would even fathom deleting the text. Truth be told, as much as you cursed and hated the thought of him trying to slide back into your life, there wasn’t a month that went by without a thought of him crossing your mind. A song playing, a Romcom from the 90s, the pizza you both loved so much. Why couldn’t you escape him?

You shot off a quick text to Rosie, curiosity was killing you now, itching inside you, desperate to find out how the hell you had come up in conversation.

Y/N -Word on the street is that you ran into a clown I once knew; I’m curious what was said.”

Rosie: Oh no, he didn’t.

Y/N: He did and it was pathetic

Rosie: It was a super quick interaction. Both of us waiting for a coffee and being friendly. He asked about you almost right off the bat though. It almost rendered me speechless after what happened.  

Y/N - So, that’s it? What did you say? Did you tell him how fantastic my life is going and that I probably wouldn’t even remember him?

Rosie: you and I both know, that that’s a load of shit. I’ve had wine nights with you, that man-child has never left that brain of yours.  

Y/N Shut up.

Rosie: Really though, it was super quick. I said you were doing charity work and were still in the city, happy and healthy.  

Y/N- good to know. I’ll just sit here and pretend his message never happened then. Carry on as usual.  

Rosie: see you later this week?

Y/N Definitely, bye babe.

Placing your phone down on your desk, you continued opening your mail: thank you cards for volunteering, appreciation notes from parents and kids, and requests for you to help out at other groups around town. The next month would be hectic, with collecting the many donations from around the city. You had to finish training several new volunteers that would assist with wrapping, delivering, and presenting gifts to the charities and individual families that you helped support during the Winter months.  

It became a mechanical process, opening envelope after envelope, that you weren’t paying attention to the return addresses. It wasn’t until you read the first few lines that the letterhead caught your eye and did it burn.  

Blue-eyed monster strikes again via his mother.

You knew it wasn’t the case though, his mom, was offering a bursary to some of the kids you helped out and she was reaching out to you and other groups in the city to help.  

It didn’t take much to pull your mind from work once you had read the Evans name on the letter. Bits and pieces shifted in your mind; you couldn’t fight it any more today. The letter slipped to the floor and you sat back against your desk, the memories that you had been pushing away, were flooding back.

It all started innocently about three years ago, bumping into one another around town, having several acquaintances that knew each other, and a tendency to make the other smile when the lamest dad jokes were thrown around. His face was incredibly animated and you loved the way his eyebrows would jump up while he spoke, there was mischief behind them that you wanted to discover. Even a quick peek, would ease the curiosity.

You recognized that laugh from across the room of the gallery – full of heart and genuine. Turning around, you spotted Chris mingling with other attendees of the charity event. You were here to help raise money for low-income families in the community that could not afford music lessons or music therapy for their children. The profits from the art sold this evening, would help buy instruments for the school that was set to open the following month. You knew Chris had donated and you had volunteered to help teach the parents with baby's groups every second weekend. It was the least you could do, you had a bit of extra time and needed to give back to the community that helped you and your family out during your childhood.

“How did I know you would be here?”  

You must have zoned out thinking about that boisterous laugh that you didn’t see Chris walking over to you. You smiled as he leaned in wrapping one arm around you, a beer being held in his other hand. His smell was intoxicating – a mixture of orange and the woodiness of sandalwood. Would it be wrong if you pulled him closer to take a quick whiff before he pulled away?  

He took his time moving back from you, winking as his arm shifted back to his side and lifting the beer to his mouth with the other, take a long sip.

“So, you out here to buy some art?” he asked, taking another drink.

“No, not buying tonight. One of the pieces is mine, I donated it to help out.”

“You have something up for sale here?” He questioned, taking a quick spin around to quickly look at all the art hanging around the gallery. “Which one is yours?”

“Oh, I am NOT telling you that. I think I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one is mine. You can play the role of Sherlock Holmes.”

“Now, that’s just cruel.”

“Cruel? Nah. Mysterious? Yes. Are you up for a little game of 5 questions to help you out? If you can guess which one is mine, then I guess you have bragging rights because I haven’t discussed my art with anyone here. If you don’t figure it out, then I suppose it will be a mystery forever.”

“Oh, I KNOW I’ll be able to figure this out!” Chris says loudly, clapping his hands together and popping each shoulder up and down. “I’m always up for a challenge.”

“Here’s the deal, you ask me whatever you need to to figure out which one is mine. Obviously, you can’t ask which one is mine as one of your questions. Ready?”

“Ready!” Chris said enthusiastically. He took your hand and brought you to the front of the room to observe the first of the paintings. “Let’s take a quick gander and then I’ll start. How does that sound to you?”

“Whatever you need to do, Evans.”

Chris pulled you from canvas to canvas, still holding your hand as he inspected each piece. “First question. “Did you only use paint for the one you donated?”

“NOPE, next question, Evans!”

“Okay, okay, I got this,” he bounced around on the spot and turned his head to quickly glance over the works close to him. “Shit, I guess I should have asked if what you donated was a painting, right?”

You walk a circle around Chris “Is that your question?” you ask, eyebrow raised.

His blue eyes flick quickly to yours before he says, “Ya, actually...ya. That’s what I want to know. Did you submit a painting?”

“Yes, one of my paintings is hanging somewhere in one of these giant rooms.”  

“You really don’t think that I’m capable of figuring this out, do you? Ye of little Faith,” he smirked and pulled you to the back of the dark room. “Any reason why it’s so dark back here?”

“Maybe that’s what the artist wanted?”

“Here’s question three then,” he said as he pulled you closer to him, your eyes looking into his as he asked. “Is you painting in the dark room?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

Chuckling, you take hold of his hand and lead him to another section of the gallery. “I don’t want you to miss any pieces, so take a look around here before you ask number three.” He squeezed your hand and looked up, the ceiling adorned with a beautiful piece; birds in flight but as they reached the furthest wall, the began to decay, until only single feathers remained.    

“Here’s number three, ready?” He looked to his left where you were nodding your head back. “Did you mainly use your hands for this piece? I mean, instead of brushes or other tools.”  

You were silent for a moment before answering, did you want to tell him how much of yourself you had put into this piece? That what the brushes couldn’t do, you did with your hands and arms? “I did. This one needed more than brushes.”

Chris smiled at you, “feel like telling me what else you used?”

“Not a chance,” you said, grabbing a glass of white wine from the tray passing by. “You want a glass?”  

Chris held up his bottle, its content revealing that it was still half full. “I think I have a pretty good idea which one is yours, so these last two questions are going to be good.” With two large gulps, he finished up the rest of his beer. “So, what happens when I guess, do I get some sort of prize? Maybe you could paint me or something?”

“If you mean, could I dump a bucket of paint over your cocky head, then, sure!”

Chris burst out laughing, pulling you into him for a squeeze.  “I love how you make me laugh and I bet you would actually do that to me. But really, if I do guess, what happens?”

You kept your body close to his, his arm still holding you close as you responded, “what do you think would be suitable prize, Chris? Do you want me to paint something, make you a prince? Maybe something of you and Dodger? Or maybe I could paint your like one of my French girls.”

“I would love one of your pieces, but if I win this, I’d like to take you out. Is that okay with you?”

Your grip tightened around the wine glass, trying not to let it slip to the floor. It was a shock, to hear that this man, one that you had flirted with for months, was asking if you wanted to go out with him.  

“Y/N?”

“Sorry, I... I didn’t expect you to ask me that,” you answered, fidgeting with your hands out of awkwardness.

“It’s ok, you can say no! It’s all right to tell me no.”

“No. No. I’d love that. If you can guess which one is mine, I will gladly go out with you. Dinner, drinks, walk – whatever you like.”

Chris placed his empty beer on the table closest to you. “Ready for my last two questions?”

“As ready as one can be.”

“Is your piece hung on the wall as a landscape?”

“Look at you Evans, you got another one.”

Chris rubbed his hands together, his smile wide and full, clearly showing that he was on a winning streak. “Here’s number four and then I’ll go right to the painting I think, the painting I know it is. Chris walked back and forth in front of you before turning to face you with his last question. You had grabbed another glass of wine and took a sip, waiting for his winning question. “Does your piece use more than black and white? – so many of these photos, sculptures, paintings are very monotone.”

“You’re good Evans and yes, I filled my picture with the rainbow. So, take my hand and show me what the answer to this mystery is.”

His warm hand took your free one and he walked you to one of the side rooms – this room was full of colourful pieces. You could feel the heat flushing across your cheeks and a thin layer of sweat formed at your hairline. Chris stopped and turned towards the back wall and pointed to one of the paintings. “I’m pretty sure this one is yours,” he said with a half-smile. “Am I right?”

You had wished, during those few minutes he had suggested that he take you out, that he would guess which one is yours. But what were the chances with over 40 pieces around you? You tried to keep your body from slouching before you softly answered “No. That’s not mine.”

The happiness in his eyes left quickly once you responded.

“Are you going to tell me which one is yours though?” He asked you eagerly.

“No, I think I’m going to keep that secret to myself. Thanks for the fun, Evans, I should get home. Another day of charity work for me tomorrow.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’d still like to take you out though, will you let me do that, please?”

“I guess we’ll have to see what the future brings,” you replied, giving him a little wink and a squeeze to his hand, you took one last sip of your wine before heading to the coat check.

Chris watched you as you wrapped a scarf around your neck and slipped your arms into the long, wool coat.  Walking back over to him and wrapping your arms around him, it was a quick hug and he barely had an arm around you before you were stepping back. With a smile on your face, you turned and stepped out into the night. Chris watched as you turned right and glanced his way, your hand lifting up and into a quick wave. He couldn’t stop smiling and knew he had to see you again.

It didn’t take long for that to happen. You couldn’t get him out of your thoughts and dreams after the encounter at the gallery. He really was something; funny, compassionate, a hard worker, and you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly good looking.

After an event in town and a few drinks later, it was easy as pie, asking him over for dinner. He had initially thought you were pulling his leg.  

Chris couldn’t stop laughing. "Oh ya, sure you want me to come over for dinner," laughing at your request and taking a sip of his IPA.

The pink that had flushed across your cheeks when you had shyly asked him was disappearing like an ice cube in hot soup. He picked up on the change immediately and apologized profusely. "I didn't think you were serious! You are serious, right?”

"Why wouldn't I be? It's just dinner," you shrugged. “I don’t see why you would have such a dramatic response to a simple question.” There was an awkwardness now and maybe you shouldn’t have asked him to come over. “Sorry, I thought since we kind of hand a friendship blooming and I tend to invite friends over...”

He took hold of your arm and pulled you into his chest, a big smile across his face. “I'll come by; don’t you worry. Which day this week works for you? I'll be out of state after this week for a bit, so hopefully something the next few days will work for you,” he said, squeezing you a bit before he released his hold on you.  

Trying not to be awkward, you responded "This week will definitely work, tomorrow or the next day are open for me."

"Let’s go for tomorrow, okay?  Would you like me to bring anything?” Chris smiled  

“Be sure to bring the dog, he's the one I'm really inviting.”

"Well, fat chance of me coming by now, I see where your allegiances lie, " he said half closing his eyes and glaring at you in a teasing manner.

"Ok then, just drop the dog off, I'm sure he'll enjoy the feast."

Chris couldn't help laugh at the way you were carrying on with this charade. The half-smile that was currently on your face was one full of mischief and it was something that he had come to enjoy the last few times he had run into you around town. He could see a sparkle in your eyes, something that he didn’t notice before today and it was something, that he could get used to.  

“A thought crossed my mind... what exactly would have happened if I had guessed right?”

“Since that didn’t happen, I guess you’ll never know,” you said with a shrug and nudged him with your shoulder.

“You sure like to tease me.”

“What exactly am I teasing you over?”

“The opportunity to be in your presence again,” he replied, a slight blush crossing his cheeks.

Finishing up your drink, you placed the glass back on the cardboard coaster and turned to face him.  

**

“What the hell is THIS?” he asked grabbing at the green monster type thing that was hanging from a lamp in your living room

"That, is a flying frog - one of those weird ass dad gifts - he's always finding these peculiar creatures for me and I can't seem to part with them.

"It's sure ugly"

"You're ugly!” You shouted back at him and burst into the most beautiful smile he had seen cross your face.

"What are you, 12?

"Sometimes,” you replied.

Chris couldn’t help but laugh at you and pull you into a quick side hug. "You're a funny one" he feels you squeeze him back softly, a smile crossing his face at the quick interaction.

"I better go take a peek in the oven and make sure everything is baking the way it should. Make yourself cozy, I'll be right back."  You looked back to him, pointing at the couches before turning and walking down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning you head back, forgetting to offer him a drink but his long strides had brought him right behind you quickly, almost colliding with your body. He tripped up a bit and moved his hand to your hip to catch himself.

"I want to see what you're up to in here, see what the chef is cooking up.” Chris resting his chin on your shoulder to peek at what you were stirring on the stove.

“You couldn’t sit still and wait for me to come back, did you miss me that much,” you teased.

“I couldn’t stand to be apart from you for a second longer.”

“That is the cheesiest lines, Evans. Does shit like that work for you?”

“What matters is, if it’s working on you. So, is it?”

You hummed, refusing to answer the question and carried on taking care of the food in the oven. Satisfied with how everything looked, you turned the timer back on and offered Chris a drink. Agreeing on wine, you pulled a bottle from the rack, passed the stemless glasses to Chris, grabbed his hand, and lead him back into the other room. Sitting on the larger of your two couches, Chris took a place beside you, taking the bottle from your hand, opening the bottle, and pouring you a generous glass before pouring his own.  

“To friendship,” he said raising his glass

“To friendship, good food, and drinks,” you added and brought your glass to his, a quick clink, and sips were taken.  

Dinner was ready within the hour and you both continued to chat while enjoying your meal.  

“That was one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time, thank you”, complimented Chris as he wiped his mouth with the napkin when he had finished his last bite.  

The compliment brought the feeling of heat to your face and out of awkwardness you almost knocked your glass over as you reached for the wine.

“Want a refill?” You asked, holding up the second bottle of red that night. “You have good taste in wine, Mr. Evans, this wine is top notch,” you said, looking over the label of the wine he had brought with him.

Chris smirked and slid the glass to his left “I’m glad you think so, I’ll definitely have another. This should probably be the last one though, I feel like I’m overstaying my welcome.” He watched as you poured, your hair falling forward as the wine glass filled. “Cheers, thank you for the invite and many thanks for a delicious meal. You are constantly surprising me with your talents.”

“You aren’t overstaying. I’m enjoying your company and don’t want you to leave yet. Here, let me show you what I’m working on for this year’s event,” you said and pulled your phone out of your dress pocket and slid your finger across the screen. Shifting your body across the cushions toward Chris, you held the phone out towards him.  

“What is it you are putting on this year?”

“Another charity event, it’s to help out the single parents that live in the community. I try to donate as much time to charities as possible.”

“You have a heart of gold.”

“I want everyone to have a special holiday season, you do it. I see that you donate time and money to charities.”

“I have the means to help and giving back is extremely important to me.” Chris looked through a few more of the photos before placing the phone down next to him on the couch.  

Reaching over to take her phone, Chris put his hand over yours and slid closer. “I know you always think I’m joking around with you when I say how much I love seeing you smile but I’m being 100% honest. Your smile is contagious and I feel like it lights up anywhere we are. It’s a beautiful smile and its part of why I’m so attracted to you.”  

You couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Oh shush, you!”  you said pushing your hand into his chest, your smile wider than he had seen before.  Again, he put his hand over yours and pulled you to him gently with his other hand.  He brought you close, enough to hold you against him for a hug. He watched as your eyes tried to find a joke hidden in his face but you quickly realized that there was something else there. You weren’t sure who moved first as your lips met quickly enough that your teeth clacked together and you swore in pain.  

“Oh fuck, only I would ruin an almost perfect moment. I’m such an-

He pulled you to his lips again, kissing you softly and trying not to laugh at the look on your face.

“Am I a joke to you, Evans?” you asked, kissing him back on the lips.

“Oh, not at all, I didn’t want to have to explain to people we know how I broke your teeth though. I mean, I could make up some ridiculous story about it, could be fun,” he chuckled.

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, bringing yourself back up to face Chris and pull him by his shirt towards you and kissing him without any stupid errors. You could taste the wine on him, the sweetness adding to the softness of your kiss. He took the lead, pulling you closer and slipping his tongue delicately across your bottom lip before deepening the kiss.  

Your eyes opened when you hear Chris let out a soft moan, not expecting to hear such a sound from him before you could emit one. He did it again and you felt it all the way down your spine and into your soul. Your hands, still in idiot mode, found their way to his hair, and were quickly taking apart his well-coiffed hair by running your hands through it.

“How does your hair smell so damn incredible?

“How do you taste so fucking delicious?

You pulled back, staring him in the eyes “Hmm, maybe you need to taste a bit more, clean that palate of yours,” you teased.

“Are you implying...”

“Not implying, the buffet is open, sir. Dig in.”

Chris’s face went a light shade of red.

“Oh, did I catch you off guard, Casanova?”

“I mean, no... no...’ he stumbled, “OK, fine yes, yes you did.”

“Well, now that you know, let’s get back to business. All right?”

You took control, standing up, taking his hand roughly and leading him to your bedroom.  

“I want you to take off my clothing, piece by piece. I want to see it on the floor and,” you said placing her finger on his lips, “no more talking,” you ordered.

“Anything you want,” he whispered into your ear and he ran his tongue down your neck so softly, that goosebumps raised over yours arms. His hands wandered from your shoulders and down your arms, taking hold of your hands and moving them to his belt buckle.  

Looking up to him, he nodded, silently urging you. Undoing the belt and still staring into his eyes. Moving to unzip his jeans and push the button away, Chris was unzipping the back of your dress, the cool line of metal touching your back as he drew the zipper down the length of your back.  

“You have goosebumps, do I need to warm you up?

“I’m hoping you get to that. Now, what did I say about talking?”

He smirked, pushing the dress down each shoulder until it dropped to the floor. Stepping out of it, you kicked it off with one foot, tossing it towards the wall. Chris’s hands were already roaming, his hands on your hips, fingers sliding into the thin elastic of your panties. His hands slipped across your warm flesh and directly to your cheeks, grabbing each one and squeezing, and pulling you closer to him. His lips were pressed into yours, his tongue back to searching for yours as he wrapped his arms around you and brought you to your bed. Gently, he sat you on the edge and leaned into you bringing you down to the mattress.  

His kisses ran down your sternum and across the soft skin of your breasts while his hands ran across the tops, gently running his fingers over your nipples.  

“Keep doing that, keep... keep touching my breasts, Chris.”

You could feel him pressing into you, his erection, warm and pushing against your core.

His hands squeezed your left breast while he brought his mouth down to your right, taking the nipple into his mouth, gently sucking it. Running his tongue around the bud, a chill running across your arms and a moan escaping your lips.

“I need to be in you now, please, y/n,” he said, kissing up your chest.

“In the drawer, condoms are there and hurry the hell up, Evans, I’ve waited forever for it to rain and fill up the well.”

He chuckled as he crawled over you, limbs knocking yours, a soft hand slapped across his ass, as you watched him open the nightstand drawer, which got stuck in his effort to hurry. “Come on Evans, you got this,”

“A little self-talk over there to get you motivated?”  

Chris smiled as he held up the package and smiled at you before sitting on the edge of the bed to roll the condom down his hard length. He was on you again, returning quickly, his lips pressing against yours. His lips, wet and warm, pushed harder against your mouth as he pushed your legs further apart, taking himself in his hand, rubbing across your wetness and pushing halfway. The groan that escaped his mouth while his tongue continued to touch yours, sent a tingling sensation down your body.  

“Chris, please...” you started to plead and before you could continue, he finished pressing himself into you with a grunt.

“Come on baby, show me how well you can move,” he said as he licked a strip across your neck.  

Wrapping your arms around his neck and shifting your body against his, you let out a wail. Your bodies moved together, the pace quick, the sounds of your wetness echoing throughout your room.  

“Listen to the sounds we’re making, baby,” Chris panted and drove deeper into you. His body was incredibly warm against yours, the sweat making his chest glisten in what light crept in from the hallway.  

Chris slipped his hand down and his fingers met your warmth, crawling in to press against your clit. You clenched around him; a low moan escaped his mouth as he continued his movements.

“A bit more, a bit more,” you groaned, your back arching as Chris sped up. You looked up at him and reached your hand up to his face, holding on and staring into his blue eyes as you felt the tingling ball up within.  

Faster than expected and with one last swipe of his fingers, your orgasm spread out from within. Your shoulders tingled, spreading down to your fingers as you yelped out, the warmth of pleasure flowing down and across your body. Chris had shifted to move into you, helping your orgasm along as his own shuddering began. His lips were pressed into your neck, your name crossing his lips as he slowed his pace, and leaned onto one of his arms. He continued kissing up your neck and met your lips, heavy breaths escaping from both of your mouths.

“You’re incredible Y/N. Incredible.” One more kiss was pressed to your lips before Chris sat up, heading to the bathroom. You watched the light turn on and the door close behind him. You rolled to your side; a smile of satisfaction crossed your face as you closed your eyes.

Your heart jumped when you were woken by blankets being pulled half off of your naked body. It took you a few seconds to realize that a man, a very handsome man, was sleepy peacefully beside you. Turning to face his back and shimmying closer, you pulled the blanket to cover your shoulders and back. His muscular back stared at you and you couldn’t help but raise your hand to the pale skin, bringing your fingertip to his warm skin and drawing lines to connect each freckle.  

“You, know, that feels incredible, please don’t stop,” Chris asked, his words muffled into the pillows.

You continued using his back as your canvas; swans, sunrises, all the beautiful pieces of the world this man helped you see.  

Pushing back into you Chris spoke, “I’m going to be away next week, so I’m hoping I can see you again before I head out of town?”  

Your fingers drew the word yes on his shoulder in response. Chris turned over to face you, pulling you closer to him for a soft kiss. When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile and pulled him in for something a bit more passionate.

*

Bags packed and his dog set to stay with his family, he walked by the room Scott was in. “Hey, I’m heading out, the car is almost here. Give me a hug for the road.” His younger brother stood up and embraced him, giving him a few pats on the back and wishing him well for his short trip. “Will I see you when I get back or you heading back home?”

“I’m pretty sure I’ll be around still. Mom wants me to stay in town a bit longer. You okay if I’m still free loading off of you a bit longer than planned?”

“You know you’re more than welcome to stay,” he said as his phone chimed from his pocket. “Cars here. Take care of the fam and Dodger for me.” His brother gave him a smile and Chris grabbed his coat and carry-on from the table before heading to the front of the house. Dammit, he had forgotten to remind Scott again about what they had discussed earlier that day. “Scott, make sure you get that message to Y/N, okay? This schedule change was pretty last minute.” He shut the door before he heard a response from his brother. The driver held the door open for him and collected his bags to place in the trunk. He couldn’t get you out of his mind on the way to the airport; your smile, the scent of your hair, the warmth of your naked skin pressed against his. He couldn’t wait to be next to you again.

[meltwonu]

| 🎃 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖍 🎃 |

↪ ✦ playdate ✦

this chapter pairing; yandere!wonwoo x reader, side mingyu x reader

genre&warnings; yandere!wonwoo, kinda asshole!mingyu, creampies, sloppy seconds, intoxication, exhibitionism AND voyeurism, masturbation, dirty talk, one sided pining for all!!, kidnapping, stalking.

✖ That being said, I do NOT condone yandere-like/obsessive/possessive behaviour in real life. this is a work of fiction therefore I will indulge in it. If you do NOT like this kind of content, please just ignore it.

notes; if I’m being honest, the draft for this originally was completely different and I reworked it because I wasn’t satisfied with how it was turning out bc it was too similar to sea castles except mingyu and wonwoo were brothers kjdhfdkjh 😭😭 As always, thank you sooo much for the love and interest in Monster Mash! I know last chapter was.... erm, a lot. LMAO 😆 Have a great rest of your day/night and I’ll see yall tomorrow~! 🎃 👻 💕

word count; ~3800

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - x - x - x - x - x - x

you call me on the telephone, you feel so far away;

you tell me to come over, there’s some games you wanna play

i’m walking to your house, nobody’s home;

just me and you and you and me alone.

The relationship you share with Mingyu isn’t necessarily one that you like to talk about, much less acknowledge on most days.

“O-oh, fuck, M---Mingyu!”

It’s purely physical and a little destructive, in your opinion. Especially when you found yourself frustratingly liking him more than you ever imagined.

He bends your leg, ankle resting against his shoulder as he angles his thrusts to graze against your sweet spot. Shapes dance behind your eyelids, lips parting in a silent moan when you feel yourself already close to cumming.

But it’s Mingyu that cums first, hips stuttering as he growls, “That’s right, fuckin’ take all of it, baby.”

He rides out his high, pulling out of you and letting your leg down before you can even process what’s happening. “Hey, wait, but what about me?” You ask, voice small as you watch him get off of the bed. He tugs his pants on, plucking a shirt off of the floor as he throws it over his head.

“Sorry, I gotta go take care of some business back at campus, Mr. Lee needs the papers graded before tomorrow’s 8AM and I’m already late. You can stay here if you want though, bed’s all yours. I’ll be back in a bit, I---sorry, I’ll make it up to you later.”

He’s gone in a flash, door clicking shut behind him as you sit with your legs still parted. Typical.

Groaning, you flop onto your back against his bed sheets.

“Thanks for nothing.”

Wonwoo says it’s the last time.

But every time is the last time.

He wraps a hand around his cock, soft breaths making the window fog up in front of him as he watches you and Mingyu through the window. He times the movement of his hand to match Mingyu’s thrusts as he pretends it’s your warmth wrapped around his cock and not his own fist.

“Fuck, fuck , fuck…” He whispers in succession, feeling his abdomen tightening as he gets closer and closer to an orgasm.

Wonwoo watches as Mingyu bends your leg over his shoulder, mental images of you underneath him instead.

He remembers the first time he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bedroom, curiosity making him watch through his bedroom window as you fell to your knees in front of the other male. Wonwoo knew better than to watch, so he looked away, cheeks burning crimson before he ever so slowly turned back to the window. 

He couldn’t help it.

Wonwoo had seen you around the university campus too, hanging around the art kids in the building opposite the Sciences building where he typically stayed with his small group of friends; Mingyu included. He thought you were cute and kind, especially when you happened to hang around their group for the day. And he liked you, even if he was too shy to ever say it.

Which was precisely why he couldn’t understand your attraction to Mingyu, of all people.

Mingyu was selfish, almost irritatingly so, and Wonwoo knew.

Wonwoo knew you deserved better too, someone much like himself. Someone who would take care of you better than Mingyu ever could.

Movement in the opposite window has Wonwoo pulling himself from his thoughts, brows furrowed when he sees Mingyu leaving and you still alone in the bedroom.

“What…?” He mumbles, slightly confused when he watches you flop onto your back.

God, what he would do to eat you out right now.

He tightens his grip around his cock, this time imagining himself eating you out, tongue against your clit while you moan out his name and tangle your fingers into his hair. 

A stuttered moan falls from his lips as he cums into his palm, eyes clamped shut as the pleasure washes over him.

Wonwoo promises it’s the last time.

“Hey, did you hear about Jeonghan’s Halloween party next Saturday?”

“He’s throwing one?”

“Yeah, I heard everyone’s invited too.”

Wonwoo pretends to go through his textbook as he eavesdrops instead.

If everyone was invited, that surely meant that you’d be there too.

Mingyu glances over at you, tapping his pencil against the corner of his textbook. “Hey…” He starts, “Did you hear about Jeonghan’s party?”

You glance up from your own textbook, bored eyes on Mingyu who looks up at you from his bedroom floor. Neither of you had talked about the previous time; opting to forget about it since it wasn’t the first time either. “What about it?”

“Wanna go with me? I’ll make it up to you for last time.”

No, he wouldn’t.

“I guess.”

You step out of the Film Developing room, arms full of negatives when you accidentally run into a body that walks up from behind.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” The negatives spill to the floor, scattering all around you as you and the other person kneel down to collect them.

“It’s okay.” The deep voice replies.

“Oh, hey, Wonwoo!” You smile, “What are you doing in the Arts Building?”

He blushes a deep red, kneeling and stacking the negatives before placing them back in your arms. “Oh I--I do some film editing on my own and I--um, I was just wandering around. I had some free time, so I was curious.” Wonwoo shoots you a shy smile as he pushes his glasses up on his nose bridge.

Wonwoo was very cute.

“Oh! I didn’t know that! I feel like I’ve never seen you around here…” You trail off.

“Ah, yeah, I actually have a personal studio on the east end of town. It’s small but… I don’t have to share my things, which I’d prefer.” He smiles, eyes twinkling. “It’s no fun when people mess around with your things and ruin them, y’know?”

“Oh my gosh, I knooooow. Minghao always messes up my developing station and moves my shit around.” You keep talking but Wonwoo barely acknowledges it. Instead, he takes in your appearance, admiring you as you talk animatedly about god knows what.

God, why’d it have to be Mingyu.

“Hey, so are you coming on Saturday?” He blinks confusedly at you, “Huh? Sorry, I--I didn’t quite catch that last bit.”

“Oh, Jeonghan’s party! Everyone’s invited so I was wondering if you were coming!” His blush burns darker; were you asking him out?

“I’ll be there with Mingyu but if you show up, you should save me a drink!” His excitement falters slightly at the mention of Mingyu, but he does his best to send you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, I’ve got one with your name on it.”

Wonwoo was kind, patient and understanding from what you knew.

You’d only met him a few times and you knew he lived in the building across from Mingyu’s but all of your interactions with him had only ever been pleasant.

In another universe, maybe you would’ve been in a happy relationship with someone like Wonwoo.

A sigh escapes your lips as you get ready for Jeonghan’s party; short dress barely covering your ass when Mingyu saunters into his bathroom where you currently were.

“Jeez, who’re you trying to impress.” He mumbles, sidestepping you as he checks himself in the mirror.

“I just felt like being cute, that’s all.”

Mingyu grins, hands on your waist before they slide down to your ass. He squeezes hard; a chuckle on his lips when you mewl.

“Cute isn’t the word I’d go for with this ‘lil number but okay. Let’s get going.”

Mingyu drinks more than he should and he knows it.

He takes any drink someone puts in his hands and downs it before trying to find more which usually leads to a lot of 2AM drunk phone calls and quickies in the backseat of your car.

This time, however, you’re just as bad as he is; taking any drink available as you try to drown out the way you feel when you see Mingyu chatting up someone else across Jeonghan’s living room.

To be fair, you weren’t exclusive anyway.

But his eyes dance over to you, a cocky smirk on his face when he sees the effect he has on you. He knew how you felt too, even if you never said a word about it.

Mingyu didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had, even if he benefited from it more than you did. And the two of you were friends, albeit you weren’t sure for how much longer.

He leaves the other girl as he makes his way over to you, eyes unfocused when he presses you into the wall you’d been standing in front of.

“Let’s go somewhere more private.”

“Ngh, M--Mingyu, fuck--fuck, harder!”

Mingyu keeps you bent over the sink, hips slamming into your ass as he fucks you from behind in Jeonghan’s upstairs bathroom.

The loud music drowns out your loud moans and his filthy words as you eagerly fuck yourself on his cock. “Fuck, this tiny little dress of yours doesn’t do a damn thing. Bet you wanted me to fuck you just like this, huh? Bent over a fuckin’ sink at a party.”

Neither of you had even made the effort to get undressed as you hiked your dress up and tugged your panties to the side, hands planted firmly onto the mirror in front of you as you watched yourself get drunk off of his cock.

“G-god, yes, yes! Fuck me h-harder, damn it!” You whine. Mingyu slaps your ass at this, low grunts spilling from his lips. “Your cute ‘lil cunt begging to be filled with my cock at every second of the fuckin’ day. “ He slurs.

He feels his cock throbbing as he erratically thrusts into you, only a low groan on his lips before he’s cumming.

“O-oh, shit…”

You feel his thrusts slow down as he cums inside of you, a soft mewl on your lips at the feeling. You clench around him, shaking your hips slightly to get his attention back on you.

A sharp knock scares you both as Mingyu pulls out of you; panties slipping back into place like they’d never been touched.

“Hey! People need to use the bathroom, assholes!” Someone yells from the opposite side.

“Fuck, we need to go.” Mingyu grumbles, readjusting himself and zipping his denim back up.

You very slowly lift yourself up from leaning on top of the sink, tugging your dress back down quietly.

Of course. Of, fucking, course.

Mingyu can sense the annoyance even without you saying anything, lopsided smile on his features. “Later, okay? Don’t be a brat.”

“Whatever.”

You head for the door, unlocking it before you step out first and leave Mingyu behind. Your body still buzzes with the urge to cum when you start heading down the hallway, panties sticking to you like a second skin with Mingyu’s cum pooling into the material. You turn a corner into an empty part of the upstairs hallways, sighing slightly as you lean up against a wall.

You hear your name being called as you turn your head, finding Wonwoo jogging up to you.

“Hey! I was looking for you!” He smiles, noting the way you seem to sadly smile back at him. “Something the matter?”

“Ugh, it’s Mingyu…” You start. Wonwoo tenses up, hands balling into fists at his side. “What did he do?”

“He’s so fucking selfish! I don’t know what’s up with him lately but he always leaves me hanging!”

Oh.

It’s quiet between the two of you as your words sink in and Wonwoo’s demeanor changes in the blink of an eye. He takes a step closer to you, fingertips under your chin to lift your head up as he meets your blown out pupils.

“I wouldn’t leave you hanging, y’know.”

You feel a wave of arousal wash over you at his deep voice; did Wonwoo always sound like that or was it the alcohol? “W-what?”

“I said, I wouldn’t leave you hanging. I’d put you before myself, if you’d let me.” He smirks at you, eyes twinkling with promise.

“Show me then.”

Wonwoo drags you into the nearest bedroom; excitement coursing through his veins.

In another universe, he would’ve been more romantic about this.

Dinner and candles, picnics at sunset. Ah, well.

“Well, it’s not much but it’ll do.” He says, locking the door behind himself before he turns to you. He takes in your mildly disheveled appearance, walking you backwards until the back of your legs hit the bed.

“You deserve better, y’know? Someone who’ll take care of you.”

“I know… But you promised you’d show me, didn’t you?” Pouting, you hike your dress up before you sit down on the edge of the bed. You spread your legs as you let Wonwoo see your panties that were practically transparent.

“Fuck, you let him cum inside your tight ‘lil pussy and he didn’t even let you cum?”

“How do you know I’m tight if you never fucked me before.” You retort, shooting him a smirk of your own. Maybe it was the alcohol in your system, but you felt more confident now than you’d been in a long while.

Wonwoo leans over you, easing you down until your back touches the sheets. “Only someone as pretty as you would have a tight ‘lil cunt and I’ll prove it.” He pulls away, undoing the button and zipper of his pants before he shimmies his boxer briefs down enough to pull his half hard cock out.

You lick your lips at the sight; he was slightly bigger than Mingyu. “Fuck, your cock is huge, Wonwoo…” He smirks at your compliment, tugging on your legs until your lower half hangs off of the side of the bed. He eases your wet panties down, pocketing them before he spreads your legs wide.

“I’m not typically one for sloppy seconds, but…” You blush at his comment. “...If it’s you, I don’t care.”

“Usually I wouldn’t have someone else’s cum already inside my fuckin’ pussy before I hook up with someone else...” You mumble.

Wonwoo guides his cock towards you, letting the shaft rest against your folds. He starts grinding against you, coating his cock in your wetness and Mingyu’s cum. His cock is already throbbing as he continues to tease you and himself, resisting the urge to fuck you hard and fast like he knew both of you needed. “S’okay, I’ll just have to cum inside you too and fuck it so deep into your fuckin’ cunt that you won’t even remember Mingyu ever did.” He grins.

“God, yes, make me cum too, I wanna cum with you…” Whining, you buck your hips up to meet his teasing touches.

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make sure you get my cock nice ‘n wet.” He positions his cock at your entrance, teasing you one more time as you whine and squirm underneath him. “Fuck, you’re so cute when you’re whiny.”

He slowly eases his cock in, meeting no resistance with how wet you already were and the cum already inside you. “God, you really are fuckin’ tight…” Wonwoo mumbles under his breath.

It takes you a second to adjust to Wonwoo’s size before he’s drawing his hips back and thrusting back into you and a mewl cuts through the air when the head of his cock taps against your cervix; eyes fluttering shut with how well Wonwoo filled you up.

“Oh, god, ngh, Wonwoo I--I don’t know if I--I can hold o-off…” A choked cry rolls off of your lips, fingertips digging into the sheets underneath you as you cant your hips up to meet his thrusts. You’d already gotten close to an orgasm before and now that Wonwoo’s cock was snug between your walls and curving into you perfectly, it was hard to hold back.

“That’s okay, baby. You can cum as many times as you want. Use me how you want me.” He offers; voice gentle and inviting as you wrap your legs around his waist.

“P--please, ah, touch my---my clit…”

Wonwoo obliges, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingertips. “O-oh, fuck!”

Your body locks up, Wonwoo’s name spilling from your lips as he throws you over the edge and into the first mind-melting orgasm you’d had in weeks. He smiles dreamily at you, hips still snapping into you as he fucks you through your high.

“So fuckin’ pretty when you’re cumming.”

You can only whimper in response, blushing when you can hear how much wetter you’d gotten after just one orgasm. He takes his fingers off of you clit, licking the wet digits.  

Wonwoo looks down to where the two of you are connected, a soft groan on his lips when he sees how much of your wetness coats his cock. “You really did get my cock fuckin’ soaked, baby. Think you still have it in you to give me one more? I’m close too and, ah, I’d love for you to cum with me.” He shoots you a sweet smile and you feel your heart beat out of your chest.

You nod feverishly, “Mm--Mmhmm… I---I haven’t c-cum in a few weeks so… I--”

“A few weeks?”

You avert your eyes from his inquisitive stare, already knowing how he’s going to react. “Yeah, s’just Mingyu’s been so busy so… He’s been, hah, kinda’ leaving me h-hanging and---Ah!” Wonwoo thrusts into you hard, grinding against you once he was fully bottomed out.

“For weeks now? He’s been treating you like that?” It’d made sense now why he’d seen you in Mingyu’s bed alone that one time. “Y-yeah… but---but he’s just busy, y’know, ah, being a TA and a-all...”

He shakes his head in utter disbelief; selfish Mingyu, as always.

Wonwoo leans in until he’s face to face with you, kissing you on the lips gently before pulling away. He doesn’t say another word and instead works on getting you worked up to cum with him and even through the muffled music, he can hear your loud whines and whimpers and the sound of skin slapping as his thrusts become erratic.

He licks the pad of his thumb before he brings it back towards your sensitive and swollen clit. “Baby, ‘m close…” He whispers; only loud enough for you to catch.

“Ngh, fuh--fuck, Wonwoo, please cum i-inside me… I wanna feel your, ah, cock throbbing i-inside of me when you fill me up with y-your cum…” Wonwoo’s thumb presses harder against your clit and he opts to grind against you instead when he feels the tension in his abdomen start to snap. He moans your name shakily, brows furrowed and eyes clamped shut as he lets the pleasure wash over him.

You lick your lips watching his face contort in bliss and you bring your fingers down and over his thumb as you press down harder onto your clit and the action is enough to throw you over the edge again, head thrown back and a sharp whine on your lips as you cum for the second time. 

Wonwoo slows down his thrusts as he starts to come down from his high and he works you through yours. “Shit, you really are so fuckin’ pretty.” 

A blush coats your skin as your orgasm starts to ebb away and Wonwoo is careful to not hurt you once he starts to pull his cock from inside of you. 

He watches the cum drip out of you, lips pursed into a tight smile. “Guess you should get these back, huh?” He fishes for the wet panties in his pocket; helping you slide them back on and up your legs before he pulls away and starts to smooth down his own disheveled appearance.

You laugh breathily, “I’ll let you have another pair next time.” 

“Oh? There’ll be a next time?” He grins. 

Biting your lip, you stand, readjusting your dress and grimacing at how gross you felt now that your panties were even wetter and covered in more cum. 

“I---I mean, I still... I still have feelings for Mingyu but--but...” You pause; Wonwoo’s eyes on you. “I know I should end things with him, it’s just gonna take some time and I--I think you’re a really great guy, Wonwoo, and I’d like for there to be a next time... It’s just... I think I need some time to get over Mingyu first.” You mumble the last few words, a little embarrassed you even admitted you liked Mingyu. 

“No, I---I get it. It’s no worries! Just---Just come find me when you’re ready.” He shoots you a beaming smile, “I’ll leave first, okay?” 

You nod in response, smiling at his back when he turns to leave. 

“Thank you, Wonwoo.” 

You end up heading home, leaving Mingyu at Jeonghan’s party all-together.

He’d find his way home eventually; maybe even puke in the backseat of a taxi and get what he deserved. 

You giggle at the thought, stepping into the lobby of your apartment building.

Huh, the lights are out. 

You’re a little confused, but you make your way towards the elevators; stumbling slightly with the alcohol still in your system. Pressing the button, you wait patiently in the dark lobby -- only the moonlight providing a soft glow. 

The elevator dings and you quickly enter it, pressing the button for your floor before resting against the banister. 

Hey, is that a person?

Your eyes catch a glimpse of a figure not too far off and only half visible from around the corner, brows furrowed. 

But you didn’t hear anyone enter the building.

The door closes and you shake the thoughts out of your head; it was probably just the alcohol making your eyes hazy.

Eventually you reach your floor, sighing in relief that the lights were still working. You stumble down the hall, dropping your house keys a few times before you can even make the turn to get to your hallway.

You reach your door, sliding the key into the keyhole and turning the lock.

God, it was so good to finally be home. 

“Good Evening, this is Boo Seungkwan reporting live on Channel 17’s 4 o’ clock news. We’re live at the scene here, as you can see behind me, at the apartment complex were Mr. Kim Mingyu resided. The police and detectives are still going through Mr. Kim’s apartment in hopes of finding any clues. His whereabouts are still unknown as well as his female companion. If you have any tips or information of where they both are, please do not hesitate to contact the police or the TV station.” Seungkwan pauses, waving down a pedestrian. “Sir? I’m a reporter for Channel 17 news, can we please have a word with you? It’s about the missing university students.”

Wonwoo sadly smiles, nodding. “Of course.”

Seungkwan gestures for the cameraman to come closer, holding the microphone in between himself and Wonwoo. “Sir, did you happen to know the missing couple?”

“Ah… Kind of. They were attending the same university as myself. He was kind of a friend of mine, and I know he lived in the building across from myself but…” Wonwoo pauses, shaking his head. “I--I don’t know what happened. They seemed like such kind people. I’ve heard rumours that they just fled to another city, but… that’s it really.”

“Did they tell you that, themselves?” Wonwoo shakes his head no. “No, just rumours flying around campus. Everyone saw them at a party last weekend, myself included. That seems to have been the last time.”

“I see, so have the police interviewed you? Do they have any suspects?”

Wonwoo shakes his head again, smiling sadly. “The police just think they ran away, which, I guess isn’t too far fetched. We’re all stressed university students, after all.”

“You mentioned he’s a friend of yours. He didn’t bother to say anything? Do you think he kidnapped her?”

Wonwoo bites the inside of his cheek, worry clear on his features. “I mean, Mingyu was kind of aloof and he was very drunk at that party. I’m not sure if they got into an altercation. We never really hung out outside of campus so sadly, I can’t really say I know if it’d be in his character or not.”

“Thank you sir, for your time.”

Seungkwan lets Wonwoo leave, stepping away to finish the live report.

Wonwoo nods, turning to make his way back into his apartment. 

He enters his place, toeing off his shoes before he heads towards his own bedroom.

By nature, he steps in front of his window; the same one that faced Mingyu’s now empty bedroom.

His lips ease into a small peaceful smile. 

He would have to make a trip to the east end once all the news vans and patrol cars were gone.

He was sure you’d love the food he’d be making for your candle-lit dinner. It was one of his favorite recipes.

And he was sure Mingyu wouldn’t mind watching from his place in the corner, either. 

[michiganrag]

In response to Anonymous following up on their Looney Tunes comics character dynamics ask from two years ago:

It’s good to hear from you! I actually deleted that initial ask because I didn’t think that you/anyone would still be interested if I didn’t answer within a couple of days...I'm keeping this follow up ask in my drafts until I’m able to give it a proper response--you deserve one lol. The comics are their own strange canon I’d love to get back into exploring so no worries! I do wish some things like Petunia and Bugs like you mentioned would get re-explored in LTC, a lot of potential there.

9/11/22 EDIT: I feel stupid being this way about an ask I could probably throw some stuff down on, but I wanted to reread the comics so I remembered stuff I’ve forgotten the past couple years when things were fresh in my mind, but that’s just…. Not happening. Late July things got unexpectedly rough and even tho it’s doing better now in terms of my schedule I’m at a point where I’m so far behind in classwork now from late July that I can’t keep up. I don’t know if you were keeping tabs on this, it’s so embarrassing but I’m probably not ever getting to it or doing a serious write up for this blog in the foreseeable months.

UHHH BASICALLY THINGS ARE DIFFERENT BUGS AND ELMER AND DAFFY ARE MORE EXPLICITLY FRIENDS, YOSIMITE SAM EVEN IS EASIER TO GET ALONG WITH, we have daffy that isn’t cynical interacting with Bugs which I thought was fresh and still really like. There’s also Bugs and Porky able to be chums but also get into little rivalries (if memory serves) which is great for them, and it’s interesting to see since they never interact in the show. That’s the crux of it never interacting in the show. HERES WHERE I WOULD ADD PICTURES AND ENDEARING EXAMPLES BUT I GOTTA BE GETTING READY FOR WORK IN A HANDFUL OF HOURS SORRY.

Here’s what I wrote in July, tl;dr my main tumblr, life update from the past couple years, and that you can DM me for my discord:

Also, since you asked how I’ve been (two years ago I was taking a break from Tumblr), I think I’ll update here publicly for anybody curious on this blog slowing down/me personally:

Basically, I’m doing fine. I honestly lost a bit of interest in LT compared to where I’ve been in the past. If you want to see what I’m into at any given time I’m active daily on @surfinthehighway​ though I don’t really pressure myself to post original content at all and just ramble, sometimes A LOT, in the tags of reblogs. It’s fun.

My LT interest will crop back up with time no doubt--old ones always come back around.

Outside of hobbies, where we last left off with me taking a break was a period of wild unhappiness which has since led to me getting my first job and dropping out of my four-year college to take classes more geared towards working in the animation industry from online institutions and art colleges via continuing education classes. So I’ve been busy busy busy! If anyone does want to connect, I think Discord might be the best way. I don’t want to have my Discord tag here publicly but shoot me a DM if you want to connect there or if you want to join my LT server (it’s been quiet recently but it’s small and comfy... infodumping encouraged!)

[poptod]

In the Heart of Atlas (Rami Malek x Reader)

Description: He doesn’t fear you––who thought such a simple thing would win your affections?

Notes: this is my first time writing for Rami himself! anyway, this is for the rami week. happy birthday rami!!! this is a bit of a strange story but i hope yall like it anyway. WC: 5.6k

+

His body twitched slightly before his eyes opened, slow and dry across his grey irises. A deep dehydration had seized his bones, as though his blood was drudging through his veins and muscles, losing water by the second. Still, he sat up, his head a weight upon his shoulders.

To his surprise, he found himself in the middle of an empty parking lot, the highway beside him mostly vacant. He looked around, finding a large but abandoned mall to his right, the lights long shattered and broken. Tension welled in his brow as he tried to piece together just how he got here.

"Most people don't get knocked out after they get ejected from their bodies," said a voice from behind him. He whirled around, scratching his pants on the rough pavement.

"Who are you?" He asked, scanning you.

For the most part, you looked normal. The only thing that stuck out was the massive katana strapped to your back and the darkness swarming around your eyes. He could barely see your face beneath the hood of your black sweatshirt, but that didn't matter all too much to him––there were more pressing, more important questions that required answers.

"Demons and angels call me (Y/N), but people call me the Reaper," you said as you offered him your hand.

He gingerly raised his hand to accept your help, faltering when your sleeve pulled back to reveal prominent bones and veins in the back of your hand. The bones poked out of the skin, glowing a faint white, while your veins remained a simple shade darker than your skin. Looking back up to you, he found no malice in what little expression he could see. With that he accepted your aid, pulling himself to his feet.

"The Reaper?"

"I go by a good many names. In the north alone I am called Gwyn ap Nudd, Cù Sith, the banshee, the Ankou, and more simply... death. Most of the time I have others collect souls, but.. you're an interesting case."

You reached forward, and though he instinctively flinched back, he soon regained control of himself and allowed you to cup his cheek. Even with that allowance, however, there was a decent amount of discomfort within him.

"I'm dead?"

"Not quite yet. That's where the interesting part comes in. Come––let's find a place away from the sun," you said, drifting past him and heading towards the abandoned mall.

Looking upwards, he found a blistering sun. He hadn't felt the heat, and looking back at the black pavement, he realized he hadn't felt that astonishing heat because he was, as you said, dead. No longer in his body. With that realization, he jogged back over to walk at your side.

"I'm a little confused, here. How did I die?" He asked.

"Again, not dead yet. Just out of your body. It's quite interesting, really," you said, opening the creaking door.

He entered gingerly, turning and waiting for you before wandering in any further. When he turned back to scan the building, he found instead a drawing room with a Victorian rug spread out across a hardwood floor, and red velvet couches filled to the brim with pillows and blankets. Paintings from all cultures covered the walls, nailed into place alongside maps of different eras. He hardly noticed his gaping mouth till you passed by and closed his jaw.

"Well... what happened to me?"

"Take a seat, Malek. I need to ask you some questions," you deflected, herding him to sit on one of the chaise lounges.

A clipboard materialized in your hands, a pen following as you sat down opposite of him.

"Now, what's your name?"

"You just said my name."

"And?" You said, quirking your brow.

He let out an exasperated sigh before answering with, "Rami Malek."

"What do you spend most of your time doing?"

"Work, mostly. I'm an actor."

"I'm aware. Most of your alternate reality personas look exactly like you. That usually only happens with actors," you said, scribbling down words with a harsh pressure on your pen. "You are given one million dollars. What do you do with it?"

"Um... I'd put it into my savings, let it collect interest until I die, and then donate it," he said after a moment's contemplation.

"Calculated. Nice. Significant others?"

"Not right now."

"Family members?"

"I've got a twin brother and an older sister. And my parents, of course."

"Are you religious?"

"Yes, sort of. My parents raised me Coptic Orthodox but I don't really interact with it much in my life."

"Is there a heaven and a hell?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He asked.

"Answer the question, Malek."

"I don't think there's a heaven or hell."

"Good choice. Alright," you said, straightening your back after hunching over your clipboard. In a quick flash both the clipboard and pen were gone, and you were back on your feet. "Do you have any questions for me before we try to fix this dilemma?"

"Yes, lots," he chuckled humorlessly, watching you circle over to a liquor cabinet. "How did I die? Or – how did I get 'ejected' from my body?"

"Remember the movie you were just working on?"

"Yeah, James Bond."

"You tried to do your own stunts since your double was missing. You missed the catching net, landed on the ground, and your essence was accidentally absorbed by the earth. The earth decided you would be safer here––in Thailand."

"Thailand?? I have to finish filming. I can't be in Thailand," he said, jumping to his feet.

"Calm down, pretty boy. I'll take you to your body in due time, and from there we can decide how to move next. This is a rare opportunity for you," you said as you poured two glasses of sherry. "People don't usually get to see me. If they do, it's pretty much assured they won't interact with me. You're very lucky. I could also just reap you and get rid of the problem, but you're not supposed to die. Not yet."

"What, do I have something to do on earth yet?"

"Yes," you said, handing him the glass in your left hand. You sat back down, sipping from your own cup.

"Then what happens if people accidentally die?"

"The world goes on. We correct our calculations and figure out the fate of the earth again. It happens very rarely, thank everything. Our I.T. would be in hell if it happened a lot."

"What affect do I have on the world?"

"I'm not really allowed to tell you that," you said, eyeing him.

"Oh, sorry."

"I'm just kidding. I rule this universe. You're going to have a fan at one point who is very suicidal. They meet you on the street, get the will to live again, and their daughter will write a mystery novel that both furthers space-travel technology and surgical technology. Happy?" You took another sip from your cup.

"... I guess."

It was certainly, if anything, an interesting time to find out your entire existence was being protected by the embodiment of death just so a woman you didn't know could further technology just slightly. He didn't feel fantastic about it.

"It's not your only purpose, if you're worried about that," you said, noticing his fallen expression. "You inspire a lot of art and a lot of stories. Everything you do and inspire adds to the color of the world. Humans are one big organism and they can't seem to see that––I hope you, and others, will realize that soon."

"I hope we do as well," he said with a sigh, leaning back into the velvet. "I'm quite sick of people getting angry at each other all the time for useless shit."

"Yes, well..." you swirled the mixture in your cup, "the human condition, and all that."

"Were you ever once human?" He asked quietly.

"No. I am not truly a being. I am what you imagine me to be, a mirage of what you expect from death," you said in a low voice. "I will be here to kill God, and in the end of time I will be all that remains. The representation of all that ever existed, and its' inevitable demise."

"... comforting."

"Isn't it?" You said with a sardonic smile. "Are you ready to see your body yet?"

"I think so," he said. "What kinda state am I in?"

"I don't know. The state of destruction your physical form is in will dictate whether or not I can return you to yourself or take you into the unknown."

"Okay," he said, taking a deep breath in hopes of calming himself. "Take me to myself."

"Very well," you said as you stood, setting your cup aside and offering him your hand once more. He took it and rose to his feet.

In a single blink, and without warning, he was in a hospital––an American one, or at least one where the signs were all in English, and the nurses were speaking that same language. Fluorescent white light filled the room, mixed with the dreary daylight of a bright but cloudy day. The shades were open to the city outside, but what first caught his eye was the centerpiece of the room––him.

Gauze, linen, and casts covered more than half his body, cradling his leg, chest, head, and both arms. His eyes remained blissfully shut, not even fluttering from the bruises and cleaned scars circling his face.

"You look good," you said, unable to tear your eyes away from the body.

"Wow, thanks," he said sarcastically.

"I'm serious. You fell, like, 35 feet. Not a lot of people survive that, much less still have one of their legs."

"So does that mean I can go back to living?" He asked, sudden excitement filling his words.

"I suppose so. You've been out for a while, though, so be careful when you get back in. Listen to your doctors. Keep safe, and let professionals do stunts," you said.

He chuckled, turning to you before saying, "I thought Death would want me to die, not live."

"It doesn't matter. I will reap all. For now I can let society grow, let lives multiply to greater heights, as in the end you will all join my kingdom. I'm old as the universe. I can wait."

"Your kingdom?"

"Me. I carry the souls of the dead in my memory. They all live within me."

"And that's what happens when we die?"

"When you die, you become one with the universe. I become part of you just as much as you become part of me. Is that a comfort to you?"

"... yes, actually," he said softly, looking back to his body. "I think I'm ready to go back to living now."

"Very well, Malek. Take my hand," you said as you offered your see-through hand.

The moment he touched you, he noticed that he, too, became see through, and he wondered if that had always been happening and he simply hadn't noticed it. He had little time to think about it before you were leading him forward, taking him to the side of his hospital bed. From there you helped him into the bed, lining his soul up with his physical body, and telling him in a soft murmur to close his eyes.

The very next moment he remembered was opening his eyes to blistering hospital lights shining down on him. His memory of you was vague and blurred, but nonetheless present in a way that tested his image of the world, questioning if he was truly living his life.

Doctors, nurses, and friends rushed to his side once they noticed his consciousness, hurriedly asking questions and preparing tests on him. His bruised eye was swollen shut, but the other one could see alright, and it was a blessing to be able to see his mother above him. It took a good deal of time, but he returned to health and was luckily not disabled by the fall.

Years later the incident came to him in a dream, in a perfect clarity that he hadn't ever had as a waking person. He bolted awake, heavy breaths emphasizing the thin sheen of sweat that now covered his chest. You had explained to him the way the world worked––his purpose in life, the inevitability of humans and of the universe, and the beauty in that. The happy ending in that unavoidable death.

Never in any other time had he desired to see you again more than he did at that moment, stuck awake in the middle of a night plagued by rain and thunder. Wide eyes stared straight ahead, to the twisted sheets covering him, to the closet on the other side of his bedroom.

Shaken to his core, he slowly moved to his feet, the cold floor shocking him awake further. As he walked towards the kitchen, he attempted at calming himself with slow breaths. Once there he grabbed a glass of water, chugging the entire glass, and slamming it back down on the counter as though he'd done a shot, which it might as well have been this late at night.

Would it be possible to summon death? he thought hypothetically, before realizing the incredible stupidity of that statement. Who would want to summon death? Also, summoning death would probably involve putting himself in a dangerous situation, which you had specifically advised him against.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered to himself, leaning against the counter as he rubbed his face.

"His name is Yeshua, and he can't help you right now."

He jumped, spinning around in his kitchen to find you sitting on the counter across from him.

"Death!"

"People aren't usually that excited to see me, but yes," you said, looking down to scan your fingernails before looking back up at him with a smile.

"How did you know I was thinking about you?"

"You had one of my true forms in your thoughts. I remembered you from a little bit ago. How long has it been again?"

"11... maybe 12 years? I haven't thought all that much about the incident, but... I had a dream tonight. I remembered –"

"I know. You're not supposed to remember me while you're still living, so I had to come back and fix that," you said, jumping off the counter and approaching him with determined resolve.

"Wait, no!" He tried to back up, but he was already pressed against the kitchen island.

"We will meet again, quite shortly, you'll see," you said with a smile, a weak attempt to calm him as you raised your hand to his forehead.

"I don't want to forget you," he pleaded, fingers dug into his palm.

"That's awfully unfair to all the other people whose memory I had to fix. Makes their sacrifice a little silly if I allow you to go and tell the world how it'll all end just because you're pretty."

"I won't tell anyone. They'll think I'm crazy."

"You're a celebrity. Someone is going to believe you."

You pressed your thumb to his forehead, and in that moment he lost all control, leading him to make the first action he could think of, the one thing that might deter your work. He grabbed you by your sweatshirt, balling the material in his fists and pulling you till your chests met. With that he smashed his lips into yours, feeling your hand slip away as you weakened, shocked into stillness.

He wasn't quite sure whether you were actually enjoying yourself or if you were just shellshocked, but he continued to kiss and move against you for a moment before releasing you. When he let go of you and drew away, he watched your unmoving expression, staring at him with parted lips and wide eyes.

"What the fuck was that?"

"... a kiss?" He answered meekly.

"What does it do?"

"You don't know what a kiss is?"

"Malek, I have two trillion different planets that I reap from, all with multiple different societies and beliefs. I'm not going to memorize each of your customs."

"Oh," he said. He would have to devote some time, later on, to let the fact that there were aliens (and a lot of them) truly sink in. "It's a show of affection. It's kind of personal."

"So it is a gift," you said with deep concentration.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that."

"What for?"

"I like you. You're knowledgeable, and kind, and... I think you're pretty," he admitted, almost sheepishly in his low, rough voice.

Flirting with what could essentially be labelled as an eldritch monstrosity was a tad difficult, especially since you were millions of years older than him. From that point of view, he felt more like a child speaking with you, admitting to some silly, meaningless crush.

"You think I'm pretty?" You asked, your voice high pitched and coming out in almost a squeak. He nearly gawked at your reaction.

"Of course I do. Do people not tell you that?"

"I don't really talk to consciousnesses much, Malek. And most people don't find my bipedal form very nice to look at," you said quietly, looking down to the floor with fidgeting fingers.

He reached forward, pulling off your sweatshirt's hood, and allowing the warm light of his kitchen to finally show him the whole of your face. The skin around your eyes still retained that mystical darkness, like the ink of space, surrounding the cosmos of your eyes. It was quite clear now that you were not human, which explained the reasoning of hiding the whole of your whole form. 'Bi-pedal,' you called it––you had to fit in with alien worlds as well as his human world, and thus hiding many parts of yourself was required.

Now he would be the first person, the first creature, the first consciousness, the first life, to see your entirety. No one else had thought to flirt with death, but apparently that was how to avoid it. Ironic, considering the earth phrase 'flirting with death'.

You had gone into such a fluster by his words and actions that you stuttered out instructions for him to stay safe, and promptly disappeared in a cloud of smoke. He wouldn't see you again for three years, which saddened him greatly, but he made sure to remind himself that ten years for him was the blink of an eye for you. 2 trillion planets with life on them needed your attention.

In 3 years he found himself victim of yet another incident. He had been sitting in a donut shop for a little while, enjoying himself on his phone, before another customer entered and began to make a fuss. The man started yelling and he rose to the occasion, stepping over and attempting to take some of the stress off the poor teenager working on the till. Before he knew what was happening, he had a gun in his face, staring down a dark barrel of metal.

"You move and I'll slit your fucking throat," you said, appearing in a flash with your katana pressed against the stranger's throat. "Your gun's on safety mode. It'll take more than one move for you to kill this guy. Want to take that chance?"

The man faltered, and with that you nodded to the cashier, who quickly dialed up the police.

"Put it down, Michael," you said. The man, apparently Michael, slowly looked to you with wide, horrified eyes.

Rami could almost laugh at the incident, but his heart was far too full of fearful adrenaline for him to smile, much less laugh. It all happened so fast. The little bout was won the moment Michael met your eyes. He set the gun on the floor, turning to you with contempt and raised hands.

You waited until the police arrived for the sake of the cashier, but before anyone could question you, you were off again with Rami on your tail. Disappearing in a puff in front of mortals would do you no well, thus you had to start off with walking––something he could certainly follow. 3 years since he'd last seen you––grey had pervaded his hair more and more, skin more freckled and imperfect. You remained as you always were, even 15 years ago.

"Met anyone interesting lately?" He asked when he caught up with you.

Ideas of what creatures you were meeting, the types of things you got yourself into had been a decent source of inspiration for his daydreams. Such was his interest in what you wouldn't tell him that he wrote a screenplay, directed it, and shown it to the world. People often commented on the creativity of his imagination, but he always believed you to be the true source of actual creativity.

Of course, he hadn't ever actually heard about anything that you did. It was purely what he hypothesized.

"I met creatures that reproduced by stringing together DNA by hand. They are new consciousnesses in the cosmos, only recently earned souls... or what you would call, self-awareness," you said, staring ahead to the empty streets lined with cars.

"That's what gives something a soul? Self-awareness?"

"Not quite that simple, but for the most part, yes."

"How long ago did humans earn souls, then?"

"Longer back than you'd imagine. Remember, it's represented as more than self-awareness. It's societies, too, and ants have societies. I can't quite remember, but it was back when you were living in the trees," you said, taking moments to pause and correctly recall the facts.

He continued to walk alongside you for a moment more, pondering upon that information.

"Anyway. That's enough questions from you. What the hell were you doing?!" You said once you were out of sight from the cops, balling his shirt in your fists and forcing him up against a wall. Rami spluttered.

"What the hell were you doing? Aren't you not supposed to interfere with that kind of shit?" He asked, rattled from the sudden movement, and feeling bruises already building in his back. His skin and muscles had become more prone to injury over the years.

"I can do whatever I want. I don't have to worry about losing my mortal body. You're still tethered to this plane!"

"Who cares if I die? Everyone has to at some point, and helping others seems like a good way to die," he said, trying to ignore the aching in his body.

"Don't you have a wife? Kids? Family or friends? You're really ready to leave that all behind at the drop of a hat?" You scanned him.

"I was helping others," he hissed. "And I don't have a wife. Or kids. I've had more important things on my mind."

You watched him for a little while, trying to gauge his thoughts from his eyes. Eventually you released him, letting him drop to the ground, and watching carefully as he brushed off his clothes.

"Why do you want me alive now if I'm going to die soon anyway?"

"You're not going to die soon –"

"Relative to your sense of time, I'm going to die very soon," he interrupted, satisfied when you had no rebuttal. "Why do this? It's not even helping me. I know I won't really disappear when I die."

"Yes, you will. Gods, I shouldn't have told you about anything," you sighed, rubbing your face tiredly. "You misunderstand the concept of death. You, as you are, will not survive. You will disappear. I will carry your memories, but I will not be you. You will not be inside me, your memories will. I'm like a library, not some sort of vacation resort. Are you getting this?"

The blank look on his face told you everything you needed to know.

"There is no heaven or hell and I am not a substitute for their nonexistence! When you die, that's it. You're gone. Forever."

"I became a soul on earth. What about that?"

"Because you weren't fully dead, just separated from your body, like astral projecting. You either return to your body or you really die within a year. And if you try to astral project for that long, even if you do return to your body, you'll lose more and more control of it because you can't remember what it's like to have a physical form. It’s complicated, just – just stop getting in dangerous situations!" You practically yelled, clasping his head in your hands and talking quite loudly right in his face.

"There are a lot of technicalities to death," he said, putting his hands over yours and gently leading them down.

"There are a lot of technicalities to life. Why would I be any different?"

"I know, I just – I guess I don't know. Death, I... is it.. you're the only... consciousness I've ever.. loved," he admitted with a broken voice, unsure of his every word.

Your eyes widened, and you almost stumbled backwards with your own surprise. He kept you from doing so by keeping his grip on your hands.

"You want to know if you can stay with me," you said in an instant, soft realization.

He nodded.

"I don't understand," you murmured, suddenly shy. "I've tried to erase your memory so many times. Why do I keep failing?"

"You said none of your other victims ever spoke with you. I remember you because you're unforgettable, Death. I couldn't let go of you."

No one had ever thought of wooing you. You'd met creatures who tried to seduce you, yes, or to pay you off, but never romantically seek after. This would be the first time in your 14 billion years of being alive that someone did this––spoke sweet words and used your name without fear. Without shame. As though you were something to be honored.

Living things fought you so valiantly, and you loved them for that. Their desire to stay alive, to continue existing even when existing was more painful than simply facing you, to thrive in environments you yourself would've given up in. People were terrified of you. They hated you. Rightfully so––you were an easy scapegoat, something to pin blame on, like the actions of Kings weren't what actually killed them, but were the fault of the one who had to clean up the mess of souls left in an army's wake.

People also romanticized you. Thought of you as something to beat. Something to find beauty in, bliss in that nonexistence. People who hated being alive, who found their worlds too dull, or their minds too plagued with thoughts they couldn't help. It was not a true love––it was a desire to escape what they believed to be an inescapable life.

But people did not honor you. You were not a thing to give gifts to. You were not some sort of god of death––you were death. The essence of it. The misery and grief left in the wake of a taken friend.

Tears welled in your eyes, burning a bright white that trailed down your face like melted silver. The streaks were clear against the shadowed skin of your eyes. Instantly Rami thought he had done something wrong, said something to upset you, but he had no chance to apologize before you disappeared in a puff of smoke. In your wake you had left two tiny little puddles of silver teardrops on the pavement, reflecting sunlight like a mirror.

Years later, when he died, he expected to see you. He crawled out of his body, leaving behind the prolonged ringing of the heart monitor, and drifting away from his family. Long had he expected this, awaited this almost eagerly. But when he died, he was met by a man named Jynq, who went on a long spiel about death and the true meaning of the universe.

"Where is Death?" He asked once Jynq gave him a moment to speak.

"I am Death," he said with a confused frown.

"No, you're one of it's workers. I want to see the real Death," Rami stated firmly.

Jynq's expression fell into seriousness, the polite exterior of a worker making way for his true personality.

"It's on the other side of the universe right now. Several planets have been having a war for a while now, and the deathcount has kept them there for many years now," Jynq answered truthfully.

"Can you take me to them?"

"How do you remember Death?" He rebutted instead.

"They spoke to me. On several occassions. They tried to wipe my memory but it didn't work," he explained.

"You spoke to Death on several occasions?" Jynq asked, his mouth falling open.

"... yes?"

"Alright. I'll take you to it, but the journey will take a while. I hope your soul is resilient," the reaper said.

"Doesn't it take a year for a soul outside the body to die out?"

"Hm. You really did talk to it. But yes," he offered his hand, which Rami took, and they began to ascend towards the heavens, "it takes a year for the average soul to die. This journey will take several years. Are you ready for that kind of commitment?"

"Yes."

There was no spaceship in which to find a home, nor any set spot for rest or food. Neither he nor Jynq required any food or water, and certainly not any sleep, so the method of travel was a long, straight line towards the edge of the universe, unbreaking and unmoving.

Cosmos passed him by, and he became a part of them, leaving behind parts of his essence in the form of star dust that trailed after him. The further and faster he travelled, the more of himself he left behind, till he became a translucent outline of who he used to be. Jynq remained the same, just as you did. He couldn't calculate just how much time had passed, but as more of it did, he got a sense that he was experiencing time at a much faster rate than he imagined. Still, he remained oblivious to how much time was left in the journey.

At times he would go through solar systems, beside stars with planets that certainly carried life. Worlds made of diamonds, suns bigger than the whole of his home solar system, clusters of stardust reforming into young stars. Each of these worlds was one you had met––one you had left your mark on, no matter how young or old.

Life on earth didn't seem quite real when he reached the warring planets. There was so much going on in the universe––things humans would never know about. Worlds full of people that would never be found.

Jynq stopped Rami on the moon of a green planet, keeping him there while he went to go find you. He took the opportunity to sit, to rest after years of drifting through space, and to wonder which thought of his many collected thoughts he should first tell you.

"How in all the fucking WORLDS alive do you keep managing to endanger yourself, even after you die?!" You screamed, appearing in front of him in a millisecond and grasping his face tight again. "Are you insane or something?! Like clinically insane??"

"You've clearly never met someone who's in love with you," he chuckled, taking your hands and, again, gently pulling them away from their tight clutch on his face.

"Ohh, Malek," you said, anger falling away to the aching sorrow in your tone. "Look at you. You're so thin... does it hurt?"

"I feel weak, but I also feel light. I am okay," he assured you. "I left a trail of myself all across the universe. I've given myself back to the stars. Now I want to give what remains of me to you, but I had to talk to you again. Just once more."

"You speak like you’re old," you said with a weak laugh.

"I am old."

"How old do humans live to be?"

"The oldest was around 120 years, I think."

"Oh. Well, then I guess you're a little old. Not to me though," you said, flipping his sheer hands and taking them in yours.

"I'm old enough that I have accepted my own fate. I'm ready for you, Death," he said, his smile only visible in the bits of glittering stardust that made up the frame of his face.

Your smile fell.

"No," you said.

"... no?"

"No. I'm not going to do it," you stated.

"Can you do that? Like, legally?" He asked, quirking a brow.

"Who's going to stop me? I'm Death."

"Good point."

"I just wish I could heal you," you murmured, reaching up to stroke his cheek only to have your thumb fall through his face.

"I don't mind it," he said softly.

"Hmm," you said, taking a moment to think critically. "I think I know how to help you."

You found him a home in the heart of a star––Atlas, a part of the Pleiades that shone bright beside its' sister, Pleione. The intense pressure was lost on both of you as you entered, making your way to the heart, where the elements of matter and life were formed in overbearing heat. As was the nature of space, the center of Atlas was dead silent, leaving you and Rami in a white, detail-less expanse.

Slowly, over the years, parts of his body returned to him, building off the star-lit frame of his soul. As you suspected, the workers of the dead and afterlife were extremely dissatisfied with you, but could do nothing. You were older than all of them, and you decided you could allow yourself this one indulgence––this one moment of straying from the rules that Gods had so often broken.

They allowed you this one comfort: a home in the heart of Atlas, in the arms of a man who had given himself to the world, and then to the universe. The one Death who had taken so much from the universe, who would eventually take everything in the universe, wrapped in the embrace of the one who had given every part of himself to the world he lived in.