#people show up for him and so his business ventures lets call them that work because of him

[berlinini]

Is AFHF a one of a kind, stand-alone, annual event that Louis happens to be headlining (for now) or is it a fancy, extra special Louis tour show?

Because on one hand you had the festival account posting stories all day up until the headliner took stage.

On the other hand you have Louis making a special IG post that only features pictures of his performance.

I get wanting to separate his performance/ his involvement as an artist in the festival and not as an organizer, but the festival doesn’t stand on its own without him so it makes no sense. Why are they ignoring him on the official accounts.

I am genuinely puzzled. I’m of course not surprised by the legendary inability of his team to do something well but I’m curious about Louis’ angle here.

[angellesword]

BAGGAGE | JJK (12)

Summary: Drowning in debt and blood, Jeon Jungkook knows he's better off alone, lest he brings people down with him.

But one drunken night changes everything.

In a blink of an eye, Jungkook found himself drowning not only in debt and blood, but also in dirty diapers and judgmental stares from you, a.k.a his long-lost love and the guardian of the son he didn't even know existed.

Genre and warnings: best friends to lovers, co-parenting, idiots in love, slow burn—really slow burn, mutual pining, angst, fluff, implied smut, kissing, minor character death, slight getting back together, cursing, blood, stabbing, loan sharks, OC cusses excessively so watch out, hurt/comfort

Pairing: dad! Jungkook x adoptive mom!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

← Previous Chapter (11) | Next Chapter (13) →

Baggage Chapter List

*****

You weren’t sure if your students prayed for your downfall after assigning them complex business cases to crack. But even if they didn't, you were starting to regret listening to Jungkook's suggestion. You missed the time when your students were your only worry. You weren’t stressed about school anymore. Unfortunately, you were experiencing frequent headaches in your business venture.

"What do you mean they won't pay?" You delegated business work to your people since you wanted experts to deal with issues you weren’t that familiar with. However, it seemed that was a regrettable decision too. Your accounts receivable manager told you the team couldn't collect your customers' debt.

"I'm sorry." The manager explained that the contract with customers was biding, so he didn't expect them to breach the terms. "They said they can't pay us on time since they're having difficulty with their operations."

"Tsk." You heard Jang Min make this sound on the other line. You were so stressed that you had to call your boyfriend and ask for business advice. As far as you know, Jang Min managed multiple lending companies. He would know what to do with delinquent debtors.

Sure enough, Jang Min rubbed his chin thoughtfully before covering his mouth with his hand. He looked as though he was deep in thought when he said, "Cолнышко мо, why don't you let my men handle those rats?"

"Rats?" Your brow knitted together as you gestured for your dejected manager to leave for a while. You were on speaker and didn't want your employees to think badly of you or Jang Min. You might be angry, but you care much about your team.

"Yeah, rats. Your debtors are filthy rats." Jang Min's face was unreadable. "My men would know what to do. Lee Sung-ssi will land in Korea in a few hours. Just say the word, and he'll handle them."

For some reason, Jang Min's way of helping left a bad taste in your mouth. Your heart was pounding, indicating that you wouldn't like whatever your boyfriend would say next. Still, you pushed through, "And how exactly will Lee Sung handle them?"

Jang Min paused—as if contemplating telling you the truth. He shrugged after a few minutes of deadly silence. "Lee Sung can visit them...they will talk. If the debtors insist on not paying, we can arrange some..." Jang Min trailed off, his eyes darkening. "Punishment."

You weren’t sure how you tolerated listening to your boyfriend despite your loud beating heart. Jang Min said the punishments range from mild to severe, depending on the loan amount. Some of his tactics involved intimidation and verbal threats, though he didn't recommend this as words didn't deter people. Harassment was an option, too. Lee Sung and the others could constantly call and show up at the debtors' houses and offices to scare them.

"We've batons and other weapons to—"

"Wait—Hold up." Your lips quivered as you stopped your boyfriend from speaking. You felt like your heart stopped beating, too. Was this true? Did the person you were dating really advise you to employ "Torture?" You gasped, taken by surprise. "You want me to give you the signal to torture my business clients?" 

The thing about you was you gave people the benefit of the doubt. You had no reason to think Jang Min was lying when he said: "No, of course not, Cолнышко мо. The weapons are merely a front to scare them."

Your therapist told you to trust your instinct, but how could you do that when, deep down, your whole being was screaming at you to run away from Jang Min? How could you follow your instinct when Jang Min never gave you a reason to distrust him?

Jang Min had been nothing but good to you. He loved you. Most importantly, he trusted you.

"How about we talk later?" You knew it wasn't best to keep running away from the worry at the pit of your stomach. You avoided your boyfriend every time you didn't like what he did or said. Until now, you and Jang Min hadn't discussed your minor fight regarding Soobin from weeks ago. You thought it would go away once he ignored it.

It was a wrong assumption as you realized that your doubt and anger toward Jang Min had accumulated in your heart. But still... you couldn't—not right now. Not when your mind still couldn't wrap around the thought of Jang Min not being the person you thought he was. It's too speculative and distrustful.

Jang Min didn't hold the line longer. You didn't know why, but relief instantly flooded your veins once the line had been cut off. You sat on your chair, absentmindedly turning it, until you felt dizzy. It didn't help that your office door burst open, with Soobin barging in after eating a bar of chocolate.

"Mama! Mama!" The kid was uncharacteristically hyper. Soobin used to be a quiet child who could sense whenever you needed some space. But since Jungkook started babysitting him, Soobin's childish nature became more prominent.

Your head hurt.

"What are you two doing here?" You didn't want to sound accusatory, but your tone and glare directed at Jungkook said otherwise. Jungkook hovered around the door, smiling proudly at his overjoyed son.

"I picked up Soobin from school. The kid said he wants to see you." The pick-up was a stretch when Jungkook never left the school premises in the first place. Soobin was recently enrolled in preschool since he was almost four years old. You used to have a homeschool tutor for Soobin in France, but you figured your son needed to adapt to Korea’s school system. Besides, Jungkook couldn't always look after the kid; he needed to work, too.

Fortunately, Jungkook wasn't fired from the fast food restaurant he worked at after proving that he was hospitalized. His manager reassigned him to a different duty, though. Jungkook was now a food delivery rider in the restaurant's parent company. He ordered himself the cheapest meal and had it delivered at Soobin's school just so he could 'deliver' it there and watch over his son from the start until the end of his class.

Soobin ran to Jungkook when his teacher gave him the signal to go. The kid learned to sing and play a tambourine. He asked his father if they could visit you in the office as he wanted to show off his new skills.

Soobin did precisely that. He tried climbing onto your lap while excitedly shaking his instrument back and forth.

"Soobin sing!!"

Your head immediately pulsated when your son opened his mouth while still 'playing' the tambourine. It was the worst. You gritted your teeth in annoyance, your patience wearing thin.

"Soobin." You lightly grabbed your son's arms to get him to stop. You looked helplessly at Jungkook, too, but he was downright oblivious.

"Twinkle! Twinkle! Star! Soobin wonder! What! You are!" Soobin tried singing the song he had learned. Unfortunately, you didn't appreciate it. You unconsciously snarled at your kid.

"Stop it! Why won't you listen to me? You're so naughty!" You got Soobin off your lap and onto his own feet. You tried to purse your lips to control your temper, but it was too late. Tears filled Soobin's eyes.

Normally, Soobin would softly call out, "Ma?" to you, but the kid's changed. He didn't like your reaction, so he flopped on the ground, whining like a true toddler as he kicked his feet in the air.

You stared blankly at Soobin, unable to wrap your mind in the thought that, for the first time, you didn't know what to do to pacify your son.

"Mama! Mean! Mean! Hate me!" Soobin sobbed mercilessly; tears fell from his eyes. His cheeks were bright crimson because of frustration. 

There was ringing in your ears. Distantly, you heard Jungkook call your name. You remained rooted in your seat, though. You physically couldn't tear your gaze from Soobin.

Crying. Soobin was crying because of you.

Jungkook was a wide reader who came across a book on how to calm an agitated child. If he wished, he could rush to Soobin and soothe him. But this wasn't his call to make. Soobin was yours before Soobin was Jungkook's. He couldn't impose but couldn't bear seeing such a heartbreaking scene.

Jungkook walked behind your back, gripping your shoulder. You froze, though you didn't shy away from Jungkook's touch. His warm hand was soothing. It gave you a sense of support, as though you could pacify Soobin on your own.

You could. But first, you had to calm yourself down.

"Breathe." Jungkook crouched down until his hot breath sprayed on your ear. "In and out. I'm going to count, okay? Be with me."

You followed the sound of Jungkook's voice until you felt your heart rate picking up its normal speed. You blinked as Soobin's cries filled your system, and suddenly, you crouched down.

"Oh, Mon bébé." You embraced Soobin, embracing him while continuously kissing his head. "I'm so sorry. Mama didn't mean to shout at you." You regretted not bringing pudding, but you figured it was best not to bribe your son with things he liked just to get him to stop feeling emotions. 

Jungkook didn't say anything to you. However, that small gesture supporting your back pushed you to snap back to reality and calm down. You'd probably scream at Soobin more had it not been for Jungkook intervening.

You felt shame stabbing your heart.

"I'm sorry, Soobin. Mama is very sorry." You forced yourself to stop crying as you soothed your kid. Soobin wasn't an unreasonable child. He calmed down after you gave him a few kisses and hugs. You tried to explain the situation to your son as calmly as possible. Every time you ran out of words, Jungkook would rub your back and say you were doing well. It also helped that Jungkook smiled at Soobin to assure the kid everything was alright.

"Wanna sing my song!" Soobin demanded when you asked how you could make him feel better. Your head throbbed again, but you nodded at Soobin.

"Alright, Mon bébé."

Soobin played his tambourine while singing his song. You felt dizzy; thankfully, Jungkook was there to rub your back and lightly distract Soobin from overstimulating you. Soobin played his music at least five times before he got tired and distracted by other things.

"Lego!" He dropped his tambourine on the floor and ran to the other room where you stored his toys. Jungkook was about to go after him, but you advised him against it.

"Let him be." You massaged your temples. "You don't have to monitor him constantly, you know? I didn't know you were clingier than me."

Jungkook's lips protruded. He flopped down the chair beside you. "I'm not the one constantly attached to the baby monitor at home."

"That's cause you're with Soobin all the time!" You snorted. "You don't need a baby monitor to see him."

Jungkook didn't correct you, simply shrugging his shoulders as he busied himself, looking at the scattered papers on the table. Jungkook had thirty minutes to spare before his manager looked for him. He booked five deliveries using different names and canceled them before the orders were completed. This was not honest work, but Jungkook couldn't care less. He missed Soobin. He liked spending time with his son—with or without your push.

"What's this?" Jungkook could not control his mouth or hands. There were documents on your table. Jungkook picked up the paper that caught his attention. "You're having a hard time collecting debts? What happened?"

Jungkook's eyes moved fast. He got the gist of your problem, so he didn't mind it when you snatched the paper from him.

"Don't you have work to do?" You uttered coldly, the paper in your hand crumpling. It was Jungkook's cue to shut the fuck up, but he didn't. He couldn't. His hands and feet were cold as Lee Sung's face flashed in his mind.

He hadn't seen Lee Sung in months now. Jungkook wasn't sure if the case of him getting seriously injured deterred the loan shark from bothering him. Jungkook tried not to think about his problems, but he couldn't shake it off now that he had read something about loans.

"You're not..." Jungkook's mouth went dry. Ugly thoughts circled his brain. However, he tried to fight them off. You were not like Lee Sung. You wouldn't hurt people just because of money. 

He changed his question, "How long is their debts overdue? Have you tried talking to them?"

"Jungkook." You crumpled the paper entirely. "I don't see how this is any of your business. Will you drop it? I'm already stressed as it is. Didn't you see how I snapped at my son? I..."

You inhaled sharply. You weren’t over what happened between you and Soobin earlier. It was your first big fight, and you both lost your temper. You didn't know what to do.

Jungkook was still antsy because of his issue with Lee Sung, yet his heart melted at seeing that you were struggling to adjust. Jungkook wasn't a stranger to business problems. He was like you before, afraid to voice his concerns as it was too stressful and it might affect his competency. He didn't want to appear like a sore loser before you.

You were headstrong and wouldn't shut up with your I told you so speech. But Jungkook didn't want you to go through the same problem he did. He wanted his best friend to be worry-free.

"You know Soobin throwing a tantrum is not bad, right?" Jungkook's tone was mellow. 

It didn't comfort you at all. You splayed fingers over your eyes, "I don't know. He's a good kid, Jungkook. He never cries like that."

Soobin usually demands crab spring rolls and pudding, but he was well-behaved. Jang Min even claimed that Soobin would just sleep around a lot. It was shocking to see him crying and screaming.

But Jungkook assured him it was fine. "Kids who throw tantrums are not bad, okay? It just shows that they're comfortable around you. Do you think Soobin will act all vulnerable with you if he doesn't trust you?"

Jungkook made sense. You were similar to Soobin when you were a child. You refused to let out your whines and sobs in front of your mother and those people at the club for fear of punishment. But with Jisoo, you slowly learned to be vulnerable.

It should be comforting, yet a scoff left your mouth as you said sarcastically, "Is that why you didn't act 'vulnerable' around me before? Because you don't trust me?"

It was petty—an attempt to throw Jungkook off because what did he know about trusting people? However, you didn't want to be in this position anymore. It was a constant battle between your past and current self. You didn’t want to stay loyal to your suffering anymore.

And Jungkook was trying. He had never done anything wrong since he first got involved with Soobin.

"I'm sorry," you said immediately. Because trust, you realized, was a two-way street. You shamed Jungkook for what he did years ago, but here you were, one step forward and two backward with Jungkook.

"That's not fair of me." You held Jungkook's cold hand in an attempt to show sincerity. The bastard's hands were warm. You wanted to press your face against them. "You're trying to be helpful. I shot you down."

It's okay. Jungkook wanted to say because, like he claimed weeks ago, he was not in any position to snarl at you. But it wasn't working anymore. No one said breaking down walls would be easy.

Jungkook needed an axe to smash those damn cemented walls.

"Then don't shoot me down anymore." Jungkook didn't pull his hands away. He wished he could caress your face. "Let me help you.”

You tongued the inside of your cheek, looking hesitant, but you nodded. 

Jungkook let out a long breath.

"Thank you." Then his face turned solemn. "There are many ways to make your debtors pay. I didn't see all your files, but I'm guessing they're merely accounts receivable?"

You did not want to have this conversation with Jungkook. You thought you were still discussing how to raise Soobin. You found yourself answering Jungkook's queries, though.

"Most are accounts receivable, yes." Your forehead creased. "But I have people who loaned money from my business."

"Are you taking legal action?" Suddenly, Jungkook couldn't breathe. His throat hurt—as if he was being choked. "Please listen to me. There's no point in imprisoning or employing violence to them."

"What do you take me for?" You scoffed, hiding your nervousness behind your mask. Shit. Did Jungkook know? Did he somehow figure out Jang Min's suggestion?

"No." Jungkook pulled you out of deep thought. "I'm just asking. It's not a good idea.”

He explained to you why legal action was not worth it.

"It's costly. The court will fix a payment date for them, but your debtors are not guaranteed to pay you. Besides..." Jungkook said imprisonment wasn't viable as it would hinder the debtors from paying you more. How could they make money if they were in prison?

"Sell your accounts receivable to factoring companies. You have products nearing the expiration date, right? They're in debt because they bought similar items from your company. You won't be able to sell most of them. This is Korea. We're strict about the dates, so just hand them as freebies to those who will pay you on a specified date. As for your loans receivable, wave the interest. Do you have an accountant in your firm?"

You couldn't follow how fast things were going. Jungkook solved your worries in seconds, and none involved pressuring your debtors illegally. They all sounded fair.

"I..." You blinked and wetted your lips, "Yes. I've several of them."

"Good. Schedule a meeting with them. You need management accountants to formulate strategies for you, but I have some tricks to speed up collection without hurting anyone. Are you familiar with the lockbox system?"

Your mind was floating. This was such a dreamy solution. Your weeks' worth of stress was rapidly crumbling down.

You smiled at Jungkook—a sincere smile. "Hold on for a minute. I'll call everyone involved, and then we can all discuss. Stay. I need you here."

Jungkook flashed a smile, too. He squeezed your hands. "I'm here, okay?"

You didn't mind that you were holding hands with Jungkook all this time. Good. Everything was good.

**** The first week of you and Jungkook teaming up to solve business problems passed without a hiccup.

You were both sleep-deprived, though.

"Drink." Jungkook placed a glass of hot milk in front of you. "You’re too hotheaded. Hotheaded people need milk to cool down."

"Tsk." You clicked your tongue, but you drank the milk in one go. "You're insufferable."

****

You faced some challenges in the second week. Fortunately, it was not something you and Jungkook couldn't handle.

"I miss Soobin," Jungkook complained while you were in a boring meeting.

"He's literally on the other side of the room."

Jungkook gave you a knowing look. You raised your hand in surrender. "Fine. I miss him, too. Go on, call him. If he doesn't quietly sit on your lap, I'll kick both of you out of this meeting."

"Always so violent, sweetheart."

You just shook your head. Jungkook was wrong. You didn't have it in you to kick him out anymore.

**** The third week was where you gave your all. It was finalized. Your company has partially recovered. It wouldn't take long before everything returned to normal.

"Thank you." You told Jungkook sincerely.

"No problem." Jungkook wiggled his brows playfully. "What are best—frie—"

It was painfully embarrassing (and endearing) to witness Jungkook looking for the right word to describe your relationship.

"Friends." You supplied helpfully. "We're friends now."

Relief washed over Jungkook’s face. It showed in his sparkly brown eyes.

"Thank you." The unsaid words went like this:

I won't fail you anymore.

****

The fourth week was when you proposed an official position for Jungkook.

"Join the company." You said without any hesitation. "Head strategist in finance. The team needs you."

It should be answerable by yes or no. Regrettably, Jungkook only murmured your name.

"What." You tried to remain calm despite feeling your heart falling. Jungkook was rejecting you. "You ventured with Jimin before, didn't you? This isn't any different. I guarantee you the pay is good. It's more than what you make as a delivery rider."

It wasn't said out of spite. You simply stated a fact, but Jungkook's lips were tightly shut.

The words 'come on, bastard' were at the tip of your tongue. You didn't voice it out, opting for a safer approach.

"You've done a good job saving us all. I owe you one." You patted Jungkook's shoulder and squeezed it in a friendly manner. "Let me treat you to a fancy dinner, alright? I already bought you a suit. Wear it. Forget everything first and have fun with me there."

The silence ballooned. You popped it after a few seconds.

"Then, at the end of the night, you can tell me your answer about the offer. See you, Kookie."

Kookie.

Jungkook's breathing hitched; by the time he could react, you were long gone.

****

In spite of his doubts, Jungkook was happy to go on a date with you.

A date.

Jungkook snorted at himself. He was pretty sure you didn't see your meeting as a date, but it didn't stop him from daydreaming. Months ago, his life was so messed up that he wished he could end it all. Now, though...

Jungkook looked at his figure in the mirror. He cleaned up nicely. The white suit you bought for him was akin to royalty. He knew you spent a fortune on this one.

It's going to be okay. Jungkook cheered, a rare thing he did. It was just dinner—he'd casually talk to you, and just like you said, you would have fun.

Your meeting was timed at 7PM. Jungkook went to the washroom to freshen up, expecting you to arrive when he returned to your reserved table.

Sadly, there was no sign of you anywhere.

Jungkook looked at the time: 7:35PM. It was rare for you not to show up on the dot, causing him to check the date.

He didn't get it wrong, though. You were really scheduled to go out tonight. Perhaps you had a difficult time looking for a babysitter?

But if so, why didn't you contact him?

Jungkook shook his head slightly. Never mind. He'd just wait for some time.

****

The clock said 8:15PM, but you hadn't arrived yet.

****

9:24PM and there was still no sign of you anywhere.

****

10:13PM

Jungkook brought out the company phone you lent to him.

Are we still up for tonight? He asked.

There was no response.

***

10:28PM

Jungkook's stomach growled. The server asked if his company would still be coming.

"She is." He said as he drank his sparkling water.

His stomach growled, but he had no money to order food.

Frankly, he wasn't in the mood to eat either.

****

11:08PM

Jungkook asked for the bill. He paid a small amount since he only ordered water.

"I guess my friend isn't coming at all."

The waiter looked at Jungkook apologetically.

It's okay. Jungkook wanted to say. I've been through worse.

The walk out of the restaurant and into your home was layered with lavender haze. It wasn't raining, but a storm was brewing in his heart.

Jungkook looked up at the sky. It wasn't okay.

****

11:42PM

Jungkook arrived at your house. He still lived with you. Truthfully, You gave him a spare key to go in and out of the house whenever he wanted. However, Jungkook wasn’t sure he could enter as he pleased because outside your home was an Aurus Senat car. Jungkook had the worst timing—he saw you hopping out of the vehicle; your expression was soft as you looked at the other person getting out of the car.

It was a man. Jungkook couldn’t see the man’s face as he was carrying a sleeping Soobin in his arms. The mysterious man stood near you, crouching down a little to give you a slow kiss.

Oh.

Pain flashed in Jungkook’s eyes as he witnessed the scene before him.

You were dating another man.

Jungkook knew he wasn’t entitled to feel anger or jealousy. Unfortunately, those were the exact two emotions that engulfed his heart—jealousy being more apparent than the other.

The green monster screamed at Jungkook to storm over there, possessively wrapped his arms around your waist, and carried Soobin in his arms.

That’s my child. Jungkook’s jealousy was taking control.

And you. You were….

Jungkook’s thoughts had been cut off when someone sneaked behind him. The emotions he had yet to process went down the drain in an instant—it was replaced by fear when he felt a cold metallic blade hovering on the side of his stomach. It was followed by an overly saccharine greeting.

“Hello there, Jungkook-ah. Long time no see.” Jungkook froze. The man behind him chuckled. “Stay with me for a while, hmm? We can’t have you ruining a perfect family reunion, right?”

The man harshly angled Jungkook’s face toward your direction to see the perfect image of a family.

Jungkook’s heart clenched, but he didn’t have it in him to feel jealous anymore. His days were numbered.

Lee Sung was back.

*****

A/N: I didn't use too much jargon, did I? What do we think about this chapter.

Reblog, like, comment if you can! It inspires me to write 🎀

it's 3AM i need sleep. i have work later. good night!

[btsworldz]

MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE (Part One) - Taehyung x Reader

yandere idol! taehyung x reader

delusional taehyung, taehyung x reader, idol taehyung, bts x reader, yandere taehyung, taehyung is in loooovee

Part 1 - Next: Part 2

The cameras, the blinding lights. It was all just too much. Smile.

Smiling on cue, Taehyung entered the red carpet and wave his hand before he moved towards the hallway where the cameras are not blinding him anymore. The hallway was packed with different artists and they were all throwing that same smile when he entered the room. Like they were out to get him, be with him, or take anything from him.

“Hi, Taehyung! So how’s the event for today?” A microphone popped right in front of his face, and the recording camera was behind the person holding it.

I just got here for fuck sake.

Taehyung smiled at the reporter, as if he was not caught off guard at all. “It was great. I’ve been looking forward to attend this Gala, and I’m glad that I got the invite so here I am.”

“Of course you’re going to be invited! You’re the Kim Taehyung. Everyone would want you as a guest. Well, I would.”

Cue, laugh.

Taehyung laughed a little showing his pearly white teeth, the reporter laughed along with him. And after the short (but long enough) interview he got to his seat, politely bows and smile, and if he was talked to he responded as normal as he could. He always skip the after party, and went straight home. Saying he can’t hold a drink and people would coo at him, but shit can he drink a lot. He just didn’t like people.

Especially drinking with people.

His therapist and PR coach had troubles training him when he first rise in fame. They both think that he lacked empathy and has antisocial tendencies. So his therapist begin to work with his inner mind and his PR coach work with his gestures. It was clear one was a success and the other was far from it, turned out empathy was not his strongest suit. But he still keeps his therapist around as a way to keep him silent.

When he arrived at his house, he immediately changed his attire to all black from the top of his head to his soles. He masked himself with a pair of glasses, mask, and a hat covering all of his hair. He took a peak from outside of his window. Perfect, he had thought as he looked at the grey sky. He called his driver to take him.

He went to a restaurant that he visited often, it was actually a walking distance from his house but he wouldn’t want to risk walking here and be caught by paparazzi. It was run by an old man, old enough that he never said anything to Taehyung and Taehyung wasn’t sure if he understood the currency because he sold the drinks in a concerning price. But Taehyung didn’t complain, he loved this place and to make sure the business is running he always pays double the amount. He sold traditional drinks and privacy, both of them are what Taehyung wanted.

The place was not an ideal restaurant whatsoever, deserted with no customer inside almost all of the time. Taehyung can only guess that the old man has no energy to do marketing or even interact with customers. Only sign he knew that the old man is still there somewhere was every time Taehyung came here he always points upstair, he’s guessing that the old man was letting him know his usual spot was empty. And Taehyung would just bow to it and ventured upstair.

It was a decent spot for him, a balcony where he can sit and there’s a long table on the railing. The view was quite nice and most of all quiet, just some hills and a little green but with city from a far. He heard the stairs creaked one by one slowly from the inside. The old man was getting up here. Taehyung was in no rush as he pulled up a pack of cigarettes and begin lighting one up. In here he paid no mind, no one’s rushing him.

Ting!

The old man finally arrived with the set of drinks that Taehyung usually drink. He bowed to him and the old man nodded before he headed back inside.

After a while he started getting tipsy, his body felt warm despite the cold weather from the rain. The scenery was calming him down and the quiet-

Ting!

The bell behind him chimes signing someone just opened the door to the balcony. Taehyung froze, the door never opened twice.

He lifted up his drink to his lips in a poised manner to make a sort of covering for the bottom half of his face. But before he turned around, a voice interrupted his hearing again.

“Sorry.” It said.

The person entering his view was a girl holding one bottle and one cup in her hands. She took a seat two seats right besides him, as there are only three seats including his.

She nodded in a polite manner towards Taehyung, which he nodded back with a drink still on his lips. But contrary to what he was used to, he was met with a nonchalant expression on her face. But he was no fool, there was a slight chance that the girl was a fan of him or a journalist.

To be cautious, he slides of his cigarette pack and lighter from his table.

“Hi, are you from around here? I never noticed anyone here before.” Taehyung started a conversation without fully thinking. But he was avoiding a future hassle, one where he would be portrayed as a cocky artist (worst, one who smoke cigarettes too, if she were to notice earlier).

“I’m not. This is my grandpa’s house,” she replied, casting a ghost smile without meeting him in his eyes. Her expression almost guarded as she didn’t seem like too happy to be talked to.

Taehyung was confused. He didn’t want to be rude either. He didn’t know what to do, he had never actually had an unprompted meeting with anyone like this and he didn’t have the thinking gears to read the room. It was his PR team’s job.

He bit his lips in a silent thought. The girl didn’t even look at him, and when she talked to him she wasn’t even facing him fully. Was she just aloof? or was she feigned to be one in order to get him. She seemed guarded for some reasons.

“Oh, the man from downstairs?”

“Yes.”

Silence. Taehyung was thinking what to say next. He didn’t know why he gave a ton of shit right now, but maybe it’s the fact that this was the only place where he can enjoy drinking and he was not about to give it up to some crazy journalists.

“I’m a frequent visitor here. He makes good traditional drink.”

“Indeed. Thank you.” She bowed a little, which Taehyung quickly respond to bowing back a little too quickly for his own liking.

“Where are you from?” He asked again, making sure his tone is super friendly, that friendliness was puking out from it.

“I’m usually, uuh, out there, but I stay with my grandpa when I’m in Korea.” She gave a curt smile.

Taehyung faked a gasp. He didn’t know if he should stop because it seemed like she was uncomfortable but he didn’t want to risk it either.

“So you’re serious when you said that you’re not from around here,” Taehyung said. “I see,” he said. He was at loss at what to say next, usually he was the one bombarded with questions.

Silence again.

“Sorry if I was bothering you, I just really liked it here. The place is nice.” It would suck if I can’t go here anymore.

The girl’s eyes widened. “No, no, no. Thank you for the bother- eh, I mean thank you for coming here. And liking the place. Shit.”

Taehyung laughed a little. It was actually funny for some reason. She was bothered but she didn’t want to admit that to him, and it was entertaining to him.

“My name is Taehyung. What’s your name?” Taehyung surprised himself as he reached his hand out for the girl to take.

“Y/n. Err, Jun- just Y/n.” She takes his hand.

Taehyung was beyond amused by her response. He also noted that her hand is cold and was smaller than his. Before he can think any further she let go of his hand pretty fast. He chuckled.

“Okay, just Y/n. I’m just Taehyung, guess we both have the same surname.”

“Hahaha,” she laughed. Her face has embarrassed written all over it, Taehyung smiled a little at being able to get her caught. “I’m Jung Y/n. Sorry.”

“And I’m Kim Taehyung,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Jung Y/n.” And he didn’t know if he actually was faking it, at this point it was a surprise that he had meant what he said.

The girl laughed awkwardly. Taehyung was skeptical at first, but now he wasn’t sure anymore about what he thought before. He actually believed someone random that have a conversation with him is not a fan.

“So… why did you drink?” Taehyung initiated a conversation. Just to get more information and proved to himself that she is a fan.

“I… I just something came up at work.” She smiled awkwardly, shifted a little as she said that. She looked damn near uncomfortable, but Taehyung wanted to pry more.

He didn’t know what was wrong with him, but getting the girl to talk more was like scratching an itch. It was damn near satisfying and he really wanted to listen to what she has to say.

“Well, that something must have been a hell of a something to get you drinking that much.” Taehyung laughed, before he realized a little too late that the girl was probably embarrassed if he didn’t correct himself quickly. “I mean I was the same you know, no judging here.” Taehyung raised his hand in a surrendering motion, sending one cheeky smile.

The girl looked away, her cheeks had a red hue in it. She was embarrassed. It was weird that Taehyung’s smile stretched the longer he stared at her emotions. She didn’t say much but she was expressive. And Taehyung would like to think that it was genuine, which was something that he didn’t come across often.

Taehyung shook his head, feeling momentarily distracted.

“Your grandpa made an awfully good drinks though,” he said trying to lighten the mood. Y/n looked at him and Taehyung stopped for a moment to catch his breath with the stare he was getting from her. Her eyes light up, he didn’t know it was possible to really tell when someone’s eyes lit up.

“He was very passionate about his drinks, more than the marketing itself.” She shrugged after she said this, looking around the room to get her point across. “And he had a looooot of knowledge in this industry, he had been working under a guru for about 20 years before he started making his own drinks. After that it was just experience.”

Taehyung was agape at his own ability to actually listen to a full sentence from somebody else and not zone out. It has been years that he actually listen to someone else, he can’t even recalled who and when he started zoning out a lot. “Please do continue,” Taehyung said. He wanted to test himself more.

“I… sorry if I talk too much?” Y/n unsure if she should continue, her expression went from excited back to embarrassed again. Taehyung was at awe, how can someone be this readable.

He smiled at his own thoughts about her. She was interesting.

But then maybe it was the drink in his hand.

“No no, please continue I want to hear the rest of it.” Taehyung laughed as he slouched in his own seat, fully turning his chair towards her.

Without him realizing, he was having a full conversation until the sky turned dark and the rain subsided. Y/n. He was memorizing her name, testing it in his tongue and planting it on his brain.

It was like the God was playing at his life, maybe this person would somehow disappoint him in the long run. Taehyung had to just wait for another conversation to prove that he was right all along.

But for now, another drink and another laugh from the girl seemed like a good idea.

[solomons-poison]

Taaarren ♥3♥ How bout Nanami + reading a book together? 🥺

Hi hi Venus!! 💜💜💜 sure I'd love to write that 🥰

♝: Reading a book together

Pairing: Nanami Kento x GN!reader

Nanami was well aware of the effect of his voice on others. His colleague, Gojo, claimed his voice was boring and stiff, too "corporate businessman" for his tastes. His students claimed he was too strict sounding, intimidating and a little cold, although they knew better just how caring he truly was of them.

However, and more importantly, to you, his voice was a source of comfort, strength, and oftentimes wisdom. It was an accident the first time you admitted this out loud to him, but ever since, you made sure to reassure him that you really did enjoy listening to him talk. Hearing his familiar cadence always helped to calm you down, make you feel whole and stable, having helped you before in moments of panic and worry.

Tonight, it was simply difficulty sleeping. It wasn't anything unusual, occurring typically when things have been busy and your mind has been working nonstop to solve problem after problem. You and your students had dealt with a particularly nasty curse in a factory that day, the product of unhappy workers in poor conditions for too long, and although the fight had ended on a positive note, your brain didn't seem to get the memo.

Nanami had already fallen asleep beside you, so you'd done your best not to toss and turn. But sleep simply wouldn't come. Eventually you slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him, and made your way towards your kitchen, hoping a warm drink would make you sleepy.

As you stood at the stove warming some milk and honey, you heard shuffling footsteps come down the hallway from behind. A pair of warm arms wound around your waist, and you felt a soft kiss get pressed to your shoulder.

"Having trouble sleeping?" Nanami asked, voice husky from just waking up.

You leaned back against him, enjoying his warmth.

"Yeah, just the usual," you replied, turning to reassure him with a smile. "I'm going to drink some milk and see if that helps. You can go back to bed."

Nanami looked down at the saucepan then back at you.

"Does drinking milk normally help?"

"Not really, but it's all we have, so I thought I'd give it a try," you said, shrugging.

Nanami seemed to think for a moment, letting you go so you could poor the milk into a mug, before speaking up.

"I have an idea."

Ten minutes later, you were both snuggled up on the couch together, nestled under a blanket as you sipped at your mug. Nanami held up a book to you, showing you the cover to see it was a collection of poems. You gave him a confused look, unsure what it meant.

"Sometimes reading makes people tired, so I thought I'd read you some poems," he explained, opening the book to a page already marked with a flag. The creases in the cover and bind told you this was a well-read book and you couldn't help but wonder just how often he read these poems.

"I'm not a little kid, Kento," you said, pouting.

He only smiled at that. "I didn't say you were. But you said you like my voice because it's calming for you, right?"

Although you'd told him so before, you couldn't help feeling a little embarrassed still, simply nodding in response.

"Then let's give it a try. At worse, it doesn't do anything and we'll have just spent our time reading some nice poetry. Okay?"

"... Alright."

"This one is called 'On the Lake'," he said, clearing his throat before continuing. "'When the crisp moon ventures out, // we'll climb into the little boat. // The waves will lap in gentle sets, // with breezes also joining us.'" ...

...

After a little, Nanami happened to glance over at you, wanting to gauge your interest in the poems. However, he was met by your peaceful sleeping face, mouth slightly open as your breaths were even and shallow. He couldn't help but smile, glad you see you at ease now. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, before putting aside his book and settling in beneath the blanket with you, slipping into sweet dreams at your side.

[billthedrake]

This one I started a few months ago but didn’t get too far yet. It started off as a spinoff of Dads I’d Like to Fuck and took on a life of its own.

THE SPORTS ILLUSTRATED JINX

Doing that cover was how I met my partner, my first one at least.

The Sports Illustrated issue had just dropped. A big cover photo of me, looking serious and posting with my bat, and the words "Miracle Worker" in big letters over my image. I was winding down my rookie season in the majors at the age of 21 and had exceeded high expectations. Life was good.

"Don't pay any attention to that jinx business," a man said as I was out a high-end steakhouse after a game, enjoying a drink in the bar area. "It's all bullshit."

The man was my type to a T. Late 40s, sturdy build, some gray in his medium-length hair, masculine dad-next-door looks. I am often guarded in public, but I gave him a big smile.

"Yeah?" I asked. "I sure hope so."

This man had an easy way about him. Confident, but not overly so. "It's definitely BS," he added. "Look at Trout. Didn't hurt his career one bit." His blue eyes seemed to sparkle as he talked, and I had to wonder if I was reading too much interest in them. Sexual interest. "But you don't need me to tell ya that, man."

I shrugged. "Well given how many people have brought up that fucking jinx," I said, "it's nice to hear a different point of view." I extended my hand. "Luke... nice to meet you." I mean, the guy clearly knew who I was, but I wanted to know who he was.

"Dan Ogle," he said, as he clasped my hand with an equally strong grip. In baseball you judge a man by his handshake. Dan was used to being judged. "It's an honor to meet you."

"You in the business?" I ventured.

"It shows?" he chuckled. "Yeah, I'm a scout. Was with the Orioles organization and now work independent."

"Smart move," I quipped. "The Orioles seem a mess lately."

"Ouch," he laughed harder. "That's tough, man." He gave my shoulder a friendly, gladhanding pat for a second. "Listen... I'm here to meet an agent buddy of mine..."

Something about his eye contact made me wonder if I could make a move. "Let me give you my number, Dan," I said.

The way his eyes lit up said I'd made the right call. Maybe he was just star struck. But I'd work that in my favor if it meant seeing more of that sun-weathered face and those sea-blue eyes. He pulled out his phone, and I told him my number.

****

The first drinks I grabbed with the guy was basically a date. We didn't call it that. But we made the usual small talk. Dan knew a lot more about me than I did about him. So I had him tell me his bio. He'd played in the majors a few years and got into the coaching side in some single-A team. Was frustrated by the lack of opportunities there so went into scouting. Was married once, no kids, divorced at 38.

I talked more about what it was like to be a star. Even if Dan Ogle was never a magazine-cover caliber player, he understood me. The benefits of being idolized and famous, and the drawbacks. I didn't talk about the latter with a lot of guys, but I felt I could with this pro-ball veteran.

Our eye contact got heavier as we talked. Like we knew what we were dancing around without coming out and saying it. Finally, I asked, "So, Dan... you able to be discreet?"

Without missing a beat he nodded. "Oh yeah. Absolutely." Those sea blue eyes staring back at me, with clear expectation.

"It's been a couple of months since I've gotten laid," I said, laying my cards on the table.

He let out a playful whistle. "Way too long, Luke."

"What about you?" I asked, finally nudging his knee under the bar. This was gonna happen, and I knew, and I was throwing hard in anticipation.

"About the same," he smirked.

"We should go fix that," I hissed.

"Now?" It wasn't a question of surprise. More, Dan was trying to read what was on my mind.

"If you're up for it... yeah, now." I knew my voice was getting that horny edge to it.

We settled up our check and I went over to Dan's hotel room. I wondered if we were going to have more conversation, maybe figure out what each other was into sexually. I was strictly top or into getting serviced. I normally got my way, but sometimes older guys think it should be the other way around.

But we didn't talk. Instead we met for a kiss as we rapidly stripped off our clothes. I'd barely unbuttoned my jeans when Dan crouched down in front of me, pawing my crotch and reaching in to pull out my cock.

"Damn, that's a big dick," he gasped. And then revealing he did not find that a problem in the least, the middle-aged ex-jock leaned forward and started sucking me.

"Holy shit!" I laughed. I wasn't 100% surprised Dan Ogle sucked cock. After all, I'd met up with older guys who liked to fool around. But I was surprised he was so into it, so good at it. He sucked me fast and hard, like it was his last cock ever. I didn't think that the almost rough sucking would feel good, but it was incredible. Those long fast mouth strokes and that heavy suction were gonna get me to nut, too soon.

"Ease up, man!" I gasped. "I'm almost cumming."

The veteran ex-jock spit out my prick and sucked in some air, as he swallowed that excess spit. "Yeah?" he teased, now hand stroking my bat. "What would be wrong with that?" The man was horny, and I loved how thrilled he seemed to be about sex. No hang ups whatsoever. That was a first for me, actually.

"Come on, man," I almost complained. "Let me at least feel up your body for a bit, you know... enjoy this some."

That took Ogle by surprise. I think he thought I'd just want to shut my eyes and use his mouth or something. Maybe that's what dudes like me had done before with him. Leaning back, he showed off his bare chest. "Didn't think you'd be into all this, man," he smiled.

"You have no fucking idea," I growled. I could unload my daddy issues on Dan later and tell him how I was wired for men over 40, but for now, I just wanted that physical contact with that more mature muscle. "Let's get on the bed," I urged.

I stripped off the rest of the way and ate up the way Dan's eyes feasted on my nakedness and my erect state. Maybe it was the ego boost he needed to strip down all the way and almost pose for me as he got on the bed. His body wasn't perfect but it was pretty damn nice. Strong muscle, just the right amount of hair, amazing legs. Dan had been a catcher back when he played.

His body felt hot to the touch when we embraced. He was a good kisser and seemed to get into the sensual, slow approach. I matched his speed, even as I was horny as fuck and leaking against his furry belly. We made out and rolled around some, and I ended up on top of him. Heart pounding against his chest and his strong grip feeling up my lat muscle.

When I pulled back from our lip lock the 40-something scout had need in his eye. "You wanna be in me, Luke?" he asked softly.

"Hell yes," I growled.

He smiled. "I got some lube in my bag in the bathroom, if you wanna get it. Rubbers if you want, too."

I hoisted my athletic body out of bed and went to get the stuff, my dick sticking straight out like a divining rod. The stuff was easy to find. Indeed next to the small lube bottle there were two foil packets. I loved that a man like Dan came prepared.

I didn't take a condom, though, and I could read Ogle's silent excitement as he saw me empty handed other than the lube. I flipped the cap and squirted the slickness onto my fingers as I got up on the bed. Any other time, I'd enjoy more foreplay and rim him out some. I loved eating ass, and an ex-catcher daddy would be one hell of a feast. But I needed to fuck.

He hissed at the first finger but the second went in like butter. Dan Ogle wasn't a slut bottom, but this wasn't his first rodeo. As I lined up my cock, I was excited to be topping such a hot guy. It was still sinking in that I was a lucky bastard.

"That's good," Dan said softly as I pushed in. His sea blues were looking up, and he was nodding slightly as I pushed on. I knew why. He was tight as fuck and he knew I wouldn't be able to read if he was good to go. Thankfully, he was.

"You have an amazing ass," I grunted as I bottomed out. He was hot and snug and his insides felt alive around my cock.

Dan was horned up, and his dick twitched on his furry belly. He had some love handles but otherwise was total DILF. "I can't believe you're here fucking me," he almost laughed.

I held my body steady for him, his legs on my shoulders. "You ever fantasize about me?"

"Didn't dream to," he admitted.

"But a player like me, right?" I nudged him mentally. "You always wanted to get nailed by a guy like me." That second part was now statement, not a question.

"Jesus," Dan growled, a deep belly growl. "Fuck yes."

"You got it, man," I said and just started fucking. Not hard, but it was a deep steady fuck and I was hung enough for him to feel it.

He stroked as I railed him then let go when he was getting too close.

"Go ahead," I urged. "I'm pretty close, too."

I watched him stroke and I watched his hand work up his pleasure in tandem with the internal stimulation I was giving him. Then I watched the 40-something ex-catcher spew his pearly white seed all over that gorgeous daddy fur.

"FUCK!" I grunted and felt my own cum rising up, all of a sudden. Two months was a long time between lays. I held his legs tightly and humped his ass with a couple of final fast strokes.

I was flush red and breathing fast as I came down. Dan laughed at me some, and I laughed with him. "I needed that, buddy," I said, giving his meaty chest a playful dual fist bump before I leaned back and slowly pulled out.

I had to watch the slight creampie in his hole before it shut back up. A conquest trophy.

"I could tell," Dan grinned as he lowered his legs and shook out the stiffness. "I don't normally like it missionary, but that was hot as fuck."

I grinned, plopping down on the bed. "It was."

Dan gave me one last look, like he still couldn't believe his luck and still couldn't believe this happened. I got that look a lot, and I always ate it up. "Gonna shower off," he announced.

He was back to normal when he got back. A little quiet, maybe moody. I didn't know his deal, but I wasn't gonna find out. I took a piss and got dressed.

"Take care, man," I said as I got ready to leave. He was on his phone, checking on texts or something.

He looked up. "Yeah. Have a good one."

I got the message. One time thing. OK by me. I was a player, a hunter, always onto the next lay. One time things were my MO.

Only the next morning I awoke to a text. Dan Ogle's text, sent fifteen minutes earlier. "I got an 11AM plane to catch. But maybe I can interest you in a morning BJ before I go?"

I texted him a thumbs up and my hotel and room number.

****

It's not as easy having groupie sex when you're into guys as when you're straight. But it happens for me far more than you'd imagine. I just have to be cautious with my approach, feel a guy out. The thing is, if a guy has a remote bi-curious streak, it's almost a sure thing that a star athlete will be able to exploit it. The star struck thing goes a long fucking way, and guys felt excited to be close to me. Even if only for an hour or a night, they were getting one-on-one Luke Fulton time.

My first groupie was when I was still in the minors. But I was clearly a top prospect in the farm system and come Spring Training I had a chance to practice and play with the big league guys.

I was gathering up my stuff after an afternoon game versus the Tigers when I saw him. A few of the guys would meet with fans after, but this man seemed to be waiting for me. He was very much a typical corporate looking dude. Medium height, golf shirt, golf tan, khaki shorts, ball cap, expensive watch, dad sneakers. Meaty dadbod build filling it all out and looking pretty good for a man in his 50s.

"Hi Luke," he said, polite but also forward. "Can I get your autograph?"

That was my first request for one, actually. I smiled. "Yeah?" I said, registering my surprise. "Um, sure."

I walked up and set down my bag. He handed me a pad and a pen. "You're gonna be the biggest star," he said, referencing the pro team name whose roster I was vying for. His gaze was on me, like he was trying to memorize the whole encounter for later. That was my first taste of groupies, the way they might not even be showing sexual interest but they clearly are into me and being around me.

"I'm not 21 yet," I reminded him.

"Well, I've been watching your progress. Ever since the draft." OK, Corporate Dude was one of THOSE fans.

"Who should I make this out to?" I asked, maintaining equally heavy eye contact. Corporate Daddy was good looking in a normal way, and that turned me on, too. He reminded me of the men in my hometown. I even flashed a wink, nothing too over the top, but doing as much flirting as I dared.

"Jim," he said. "God..." he continued as he watched me write my dedication and sign my name. "This is really cool."

I looked up and flashed my grin. "Isn't this what you come to Spring Training for?" I asked. "To meet the players?" Maybe I was starting to lay it on thick.

Jim was gung ho, though. "It's my second year here, but yeah... the chance to talk to you guys is incredible."

His eye contact was heavy and his wedding band made me think he wasn't the blabbing type. I still consider a band the best insurance when hitting on a guy. I took another paper out of that pad and wrote my number on it.

The man seemed embarrassed. "What's that for?" He asked.

Goddamnit. I guess I misjudged. "Never mind," I said, maybe a little curtly. After all, it wasn't any guy I gave my number. I started to grab the paper back.

He blushed, getting it, really getting. "Oh. That's cool, that's man. I'll keep it. If that's OK."

I nodded. "Just keep it private, OK?" I meant my number but also the fact that I'd given it to him.

"Oh yeah," he said.

I gave him one more wink and picked up my bag to walk back to the locker room.

It was an hour later when I got a text. "Hey. It's Jim. Thanks for giving me your number."

"Thanks for using it," I typed back. I was hanging out with some of the guys from the team, about to get some dinner.

I didn't hear back for a few minutes, then I got another text. "I don't normally do this kind of thing."

"It's cool man. I don't bite. No strings no expectations." I didn't have my mojo down, but I knew with a guy like this corporate dad you had to reassure him.

"What are you looking for?" I could almost sense his nervousness on his end.

"That's something better talked about in person," I wrote.

"Yeah," he acknowledged. Then "I'm around all week."

"Tonight?" I wrote. "9?"

"Yes."

He gave me his hotel info, which worked better. I was in a good mood when I showed up and gave a soft knock.

Jim had a nervous, naughty look as he ushered me in. "Hey..." he said as he shut the door behind me. "I shouldn't be doing this."

I got it. I'd met married men with misgivings before, but none as strong as this man's.

I paused and looked at him, giving him my best friendly expression. Giving him an out. "It's up to you, man. I'm not gonna pressure you."

He thought for a second. It was like I knew what he was thinking. Wondering if he'd ever get another chance at this. "I wanna," he replied.

"Cool," I said and stepped up to him. I'm used to seeing athletes and coaches all day, so sometimes a normal build like Jim's pales in comparison. But now that I was there, up close, he looked pretty damn fine. My hand touched his chest through his golf shirt and moved down to feel up his sides. I drew him closer to me, being forward now to claim a kiss off him.

He grunted as our lips met. I slipped my tongue forward and felt his excitement grow as his lips part and accepted it. We made out for a minute, which is the surest way to get my motor running. I was rock hard now, for sure.

I pulled back and examined his handsome face. "I guess I should have asked if you kissed," I said.

He exhaled a breath he'd been holding. "Yeah... that was my first kiss with a man, actually."

I cocked a grin. "Whaddya think?"

"'s pretty wild," he answered honestly. "But good."

My fingers now caressed his side, and I could sense he was getting majorly hard, too. "You done anything with a guy?" I needed to know where I stood.

He shook his head. "Back in college. You know some fooling around with fraternity brothers. A couple of blow jobs, that kind of thing."

I cocked my eyebrow. "You ever give one?"

Jim blushed some, making his reddish tan redder. "Yeah... it was years ago."

I pulled him closer to me, so he could feel my hardon against his own. "I'd very much enjoy getting one, man... if you're up for it." He was warming up to the idea, I could tell, but I wanted to head off any hesitation. "It's just us here. No one's gonna know."

"I don't know if I'm any good," he objected.

I moved my hand up and patted his shoulder. "Trust me, I'll love it." I didn't throw in a "pretty, please," but I was being as gradual and coaxing as I knew how to be. "Come on, why don't you sit on the bed?"

He nodded and stepped back from me. He was rock hard in his khaki shorts, which was a good sign. And as he settled on his hotel bed, his look was one of excitement more than nervousness.

I didn't want to spook him, but I was getting crazy horny. Jim was pushing my buttons big time. I stepped up till I stood about a foot in front of him. Then slowly, I undid my shorts and pulled out my boner.

Some guys comment on my size when they first see my endowment, but Jim just silently watched, eyes going wide.

"It's OK, bud," I assured him. "Just take what you feel comfortable with." I scooted closer so my hardon was an inch or so away from him. His licks were tentative, then less so. I could sense the novelty for him, and the thrill that came with that. I knew this was the last thing he expected to be doing on this trip.

"You've done this before, man," I urged. "You got this."

He nodded and then opened his lips to take me in. He bobbed up and down on a few inches. Jim wasn't lying. He wasn't any good at this. But I loved the feeling of his warm mouth and the wet tongue against my steel-hard dick. And I loved the rush of seeing this regular married daddy servicing me. I let him do his thing for a minute then spoke again.

"Feels nice," I encouraged him. Then, "Just suck me like you enjoy being sucked, man."

That seemed to make something click for him, and he adjusted his blowjob. Jim wasn't gonna be a pro cocksucker any time soon, but THIS was a lot better. He flenched when my hand touched his hair, but when he realized I was just gonna stroke his head in encouragement he relaxed back into it.

"Take your time, bud," I hissed, spreading my stance a little. "Takes me a good couple of minutes to work up a head of steam. But this feels awesome."

It did, and the physical sensations were starting to build up. But I also imagined this guy sucking dudes back home, showing off what he'd learned on me. That was the trigger that got me off.

"You better swallow, man," I growled. Mr. Easygoing was gone. I didn't want him pulling off. Maybe my fingers curled around the back of his head to keep him from retreating.

He grunted. Agreement, I guess. But he kept sucking as I spurted into his craw. I heard a choked sound, but it wasn't an actual choking. Mostly a grunt of excitement as he tasted, then swallowed, as fast I was pumping more sperm into his mouth and throat.

"Damn, that was nice," I hissed as I let go of his head and finally stepped back out of his sucking mouth.

"Did I do OK?" he asked, voice thick with my cum still. Something about that question was adorable and exciting both.

I smiled. "Fuck yea you did." I nodded down to his hard crotch. "You need to get off?"

He unzipped. Clearly, sucking me had worked him up. He spit into his palm and I watched him start pulling his pud. It wasn't gonna take him long, not from the excited look in his eyes and the fast fist motion. I stepped closer and let my dong sway in front of his face.

That got him going. "You got a great cock," he admitted.

"And you sucked it," I reminded him.

"Yes," he grunted, and like that he was cumming.

"That's it, man," I urged.

Our release complete, I stepped back and tucked back in as he wiped himself with a Kleenex. His mood shifted some.

"We good man?" I asked. He could have all the guilt pangs he wanted, but I didn't want a full-on freak out.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Thanks for that.... I'm gonna remember that for a long while."

"If you wanna make some more memories this week, you know where to reach me."

[not-goldy]

Atp I'm genuinely wondering whether I should just drop BTS and Jikook and just focus on JM, the only one who gives his everything for his work, not even an ounce jealous of anyone and is ready to give his own spotlight to his loved ones. While The negativity I feel from certain members towards him is so high. With JK too, he wasn't able to stay a bit more or visit Jimin during FACE era but got time to travel half world to see Tae. Ik jikookers like JK thus not calling out his bs and only dragging Tae for his double face. Jimin might love both of them so much so he might not be expressing this distaste but Jimin doesn't deserve this bro. When he'll find someone who'll genuinely be there for him whenever he needs him ? Atp the only one who has genuinely supported his all ventures is Jhope. They are the real soulmates of the group not the one assigned by Fandom.

I cast out the solo spirit from you in Jesus name

Well Jhope is equally a sweet individual who loves to care for the people around him. It's nice to see him be genuinely caring of others so I see the appeal.

Good. Jk minding his business so let's leave him out of this respectfully

I know they sometimes feel a lot of pressure to live up to fans expectations of them and I know they went through a phase where they all tried to do things as authentically as possible without feeling if they don't fans will come for their necks.

Like Jin said, it's not everything they do for eachother that they share or dramatize for fans. And jimin has expressed disdain for such ostentatious display of affections.

But this is not it. The bar is literally in hell if merely wishing a colleague well publicly supporting their album and encouraging fans to show support is too much effort then the bar is literally so low its tickling satans balls in hell.

Also I'll spit you out if you go solo.

Stay BTS 🔪

[sixeyescurseuser]

Modern AU where Yuji has to work after school in order to help pay for his grandfather’s medical bills.

He finally gets hired as a cashier/helper at the ancient local library.

It’s ginormous. There are walls of bookshelves, entirely filled with books of all sizes - hardcovers, soft covers, manuals - and different colors.

Understandably, Yuji goes through lots of training: learning how the ship is organized, how to help customers at the register, and how to keep the place clean.

Once, when Yuji is snacking on a few candies he got from the school vending machines, his manager warns him not to leave his food out, especially sweets.

“It attracts nasty, unwanted critters,” she states.

Yuji easily agreed and stuffs the rest of his candies in his hoodie pocket. They’re just about to close, so he gets to sweeping the floors of the bookstore. 

About one month in, Yuji has everything down. He’s a quick and eager learner, and actually had a very sharp memory. This serves him well as the manager who showed him all the ropes suddenly calls it quits.

Something about going insane in the bookshop, seeing things that don’t exist…

A haunted bookstore? Yuji questions himself. Seems likely. 

He’s never actually met the owner in person. And he barely catches sight of the other person who works the early afternoon shift.

For a bookstore so vast and abundant, there weren’t a ton of customers filtering in and out all the time.

One day, Yuji’s friends surprise him with a whole box full of donuts for his birthday. 

Yuji shares the donuts, but alas, there are still two left. He decides to bring the leftover two to work, intent on offering them to any lucky customer that might come in hungry.

Only two customers come in over the next few hours: an older woman who returns a couple books and borrows two more, and a father with a young boy who is looking for a “children’s horror book” about a boy being pulled into the ocean and dragged to hell. 

Weird.

The boy takes one donut. 

One donut remains.

Really, Yuji is unsure of how the owner is keeping this business running. But at least he’s being paid a decent wage. And it’s simple enough work too.

It’s quiet for the next hour. 

Already done with most of his housekeeping tasks, Yuji ventures to the sci-fi section, which is near the front of the store where he can still see the entryway, in case anyone comes in. This means he can also see the register counter, where the donut box lays, lid open.

Pop music softly plays from the store speakers. Yuji hums to the vaguely familiar tune, sifting through the shelves. 

But the music is not loud enough to mask the shuffle of the donut box on the counter.

Yuji pauses his search, scanning the doorway to make sure no one has entered the store. Not hearing any other pair of footsteps, Yuji turns back to the books.

A long moment passes before an unmistakable noise of laughter rings out.

Yuji whirls around because he did NOT imagine that!

He rushes to the counter, right in time to see the donut escaping the box. Or rather, upon closer inspection, a tiny person not even the height of a birthday candle, carrying said donut and bounding away.

Yuji, unable to process anything besides the fact that the tiny person is taking his last donut, chases after them.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

Yuji easily catches up to the tiny-person-donut-blob, cupping them between his palms right when the tiny person makes a leap for a bookshelf.

“Gotcha-!“ Yuji shouts in triumph. He squeezes tight enough to trap, then takes a closer look.

This tiny person is dressed in just as tiny clothes. Human-shaped enough, with white hair and black blindfold over their eyes. 

Before Yuji can ask “What ARE you?” The tiny person finishes chewing what Yuji assumes was a piece of donut, and opens their mouth to yell out:

“Formation B!”

Before Yuji can blink, two other small people fly from opposite bookshelves.

One lands on his right wrist and thumps it with a tiny hammer; this causes Yuji to let go of the white-haired-tiny-person and donut in tow. 

The other smacks right onto his nose, making Yuji go cross-eyed. This tiny human has black spiky hair and dark eyes. His expression offers nothing more than stone-cold as he throws a glittery powder into Yuji’s face- 

Yuji promptly blacks out.

***

The powder was supposed to make Yuji forget about the little people sighting, but it doesn’t work on him.

Now that he’s aware of their existence, he starts seeing the little people everywhere now: hopping from shelf to shelf, meddling in customer’s bags or purses, changing the music from Yuji’s classical playlist to a TWICE song.

(“It’s like TT~~like TT” in the background.

Yuji, in his head: “so that explains the random song changes” 🧐

It was all Gojo. 

Gojo also played pranks on the manager and made her quit lol. )

Au-wise, the major issue is that a real estate company is looking to buy out the building, wanting to create a more high-end shopping strip. The local bookstore is at risk of being closed down, which has been the home of little people for years. 

Many traveling little people even use the bookstore as a place to rest and find community. Yuji finds that there's a whole other tiny world within the bookshelves thanks to Gojo and his little family.

So Yuji has to help figure out a way to generate more business for the bookstore without risking the livelihoods of the little people, or help scout out a new location for the little people in case that doesn't work.

***

Bonus: 

Geto had always been curious about other little people's locations. A few months ago, he set out on his journey to explore outside the bookstore. 

("I'm going on a little adventure! I'll make sure to bring souvenirs for you all!" Geto pats his special bag that has an infinite amount of space before heading off into the big wide world.)

But he never returned, and has been missing ever since. Gojo is :(((. 

(Yuji: “I mean, I go outside all the time. If you tell me what kind of places he’d go, I can help search for him?”

Gojo: “I knew I liked you for a reason!”)

In hindsight, Geto’s first mistake was getting kidnapped by a hawk, which clearly thought he was food. Cue the hawk soaring through the sky and Geto's tiny screaming.

He ended up in a nest with baby hawks. 

See, living with Gojo and the kids back in the bookstore, Geto ran a lot in his life. But he swears, he's never ran so fast until then, away from the birds trying to gobble him up.

Geto simply yanked a tree leaf off the branch and sailed down to the ground. Geto ended up at a cafe a few blocks down. He's been trying to find his way back ever since. 🥹

It comes down to when Gojo tags along with Yuji during their weekly searches and Gojo’s gets enamored by the smell coming from the cafe.

Imagine Geto’s surprise when he’s hiding within the shelves behind the counter and sees a tuft of white hair peeking from this large human’s collar.

Satoru!

And it’s as if he can sense Geto anywhere because Gojo locks eyes with Geto right away.

Suguru!

Gojo jumps down from his perch - he’s gone rogue!

Yuji, internally: “NOOO”

Luckily, most people in the cafe are engrossed in conversation or their work. The only person Yuji makes a fool out of himself for covering the clearly tiny person making a dash for the back shelves is the barista.

Geto hops down the shelves and meets Gojo in the middle of the coffee machine, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

Yuji, stalling his order so the barista doesn’t notice the tiny Satosugu reunion on the mf coffee machine: “Uh, so what do you recommend?”

Geto quickly sweeps Gojo up in his arms and heads towards Yuji. The barista is still talking through their recommendations. 

Yuji: “Oh, um, I’ll actually have one hot chocolate, please. Also, how much is that pastry?”  

Yuji points to the display so the barista doesn’t see him scooping up tiny Satosugu into his hoodie - who whisper loudly among themselves. 😭

(Gojo: “Suguru, your hair got so long!”

Geto: “It did, I didn’t really have anything to cut it. You like?” 😉

Gojo: “Oh I much more than like it~”

Luckily, Geto puts his palm over Gojo’s mouth before he can continue.)

Once they’re back on the street, Yuji feels a tap on his neck.

“Hello, I’m Geto Suguru. What’s your name?”

“Itadori Yuji. Bookstore cashier, shelver, and tiny person transporter,” Yuji introduces himself. “It’s nice to meet you, Geto-sama.”

Geto laughs loudly. 

“Nice to meet you too, Yuji-kun.”

A moment passes, before he adds: 

“Thank you for helping Satoru find me.”

[seokmthw]

butterfly effect | shen ricky

⇢ pairing: ricky x reader

⇢ warnings: stalker!ricky, angst, horror, thriller, explicit language, depictions of stalking/graphic murder, major character death, gore (no photos), violence, blood, manipulation, literally not a drop of romance

⇢ word count: 9.8k

⇢ synopsis: after deciding to prank text a phone number written on the wall of a diner, your life takes a turn for the worst.

⇢ note: this fic is not for the faint hearted. i do not actually think this is something ricky would do or has done, nor do i condone any of the actions displayed in this fic. please read at your own descretion. this is actually based off of a seventeen fic i wrote years ago, and decided to actually fully develop. the plot is meant to move fast, and show just how quickly someone's life can be ruined by things like this. i'm actually quite proud of how this came out, so i hope those of you that read it enjoy.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

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the city of seoul was always bustling at night. streetlights casted a soft orange hue on the sidewalks below them, which allowed people to feel safe as long as they were nowhere near the darkness. the laughs of drunk friends filled the air as they got into their ubers and went home. signs to diners that were open late flickered welcomingly and the smell of greasy burgers and fries was almost hard for anyone to resist after a long night of having fun.

which was exactly why you were sliding into the booth across from gunwook at 1am on a saturday night. the two of you made plans to venture out into the city, opting to let your feet guide you into a club for the two of you to dance and sing your hearts out for the first time in a while. you deserved it; you were busy nonstop through most of the week from both your shitty attempt at online schooling in hopes of getting your master’s degree and working full time at the breakfast diner just a couple blocks down the street from where you lived. 

“i could eat an entire fucking horse right now if i could,” gunwook groaned. he picked up one of the worn plastic menus from the table, his gaze holding a hint of suspicion as his eyes scanned the questionable pictures of food that were fading with time. he was always so dramatic.

your own stomach was churning at the thought of finally being able to stuff your face with food. you had eaten earlier in the day, so there was really no need to eat a second big meal so late at night, but you supposed an evening full of sweating and more physical movement than you’d done in the past month warranted for it. besides, it was impossible not to have your mouth water at the aroma the moment you opened the door with the little tinkle of the bells above it.

you knew what you wanted from the moment gunwook suggested grabbing a bite to eat. chicken tenders and fries with ranch to dip both of them in. it was always what you wanted, really. you were a creature of habit, you didn’t see any issue with that. 

but the boy sitting across from you did, so the moment the waitress went to put in your order with the chefs in the kitchen - who were probably exhausted considering the time of night - he didn’t hesitate to call you out, “you really need to change it up sometimes. you’re going to turn into a chicken tender before it’s over with.”

“i will order chicken tenders every time we go out if i want to, thank you very much,” you poked your tongue out at him in response after taking a rather large sip of your drink, “besides, we both know i end up being sad after ordering something different.”

the night feels cozy and familiar, your heart glad to be spending time with your best friend after a stressful week and your mind relaxed. you even forgot about the opening shift you agreed to take in the morning because happiness was riddling every single cell in your body. you grinned contentedly, wrapping yourself further into your jacket and falling into a pleasant conversation with gunwook.

your food was brought out to you quicker than you thought it would be considering the amount of people filling up the tables in the room. gunwook dug in, grateful for finally being able to get something on his stomach. he had told you he was sure he would wither away to nothing if you guys didn’t scarf down a middle of the night meal, and with a quick roll of your eyes you followed him into the restaurant.

but you had to admit, the hot food on your belly was one of the most satisfying ways you could have ended the night. you wouldn’t ever tell gunwook that though, didn’t want to boost his ego and all. 

while the two of you awaited your checks from the server, you took note of a phone number scrawled in thick black letters on the wall behind the ketchup and mustard bottles. you smiled slyly, pointing at it to show gunwook, “should i text it? for old times’ sake?”

“go for it! i can’t even remember the last time either one of us prank texted someone,” his grin held just as much mischief as yours, his large hands clapping together excitedly as you opened your messages app and started a new conversation.

[you] wanna see a picture of my cock? ;)

this was usually the thing you always texted to people. sometimes you got varied responses and you were hoping that with this one, you could actually get somewhere with it. most of the time people simply just ignored you or said that you were childish and immature. people just didn’t know how to take a joke, in your opinion.

your server finally returned to your table with your checks and within minutes of paying you and gunwook were in his car and on the way back to your apartment complex. the warm air of the night filtered in through the windows and the music shuffling on gunwook’s phone played softly through his speakers, completely unlike the music at the club. 

you nudged gunwook’s arm gently as he pulled into the parking lot, “i had fun tonight, even if you did force me to go out to eat at one in the morning.”

“shut your mouth, you know you wouldn’t have been able to resist the thought of chicken.”

by now you were heading up the stairs to the second floor, stopping just in front of your door with your key already shoved into the lock, “you’re right. my addiction to it is concerning sometimes.”

that earned a laugh loud enough for you to hiss at him to be quiet, “i’ll see you sometime this week?” gunwook questioned. you gave him a nod, “yeah! maybe we can just hang out at my place or yours? have a movie night?”

“sounds good. have fun waking up in four hours.”

“god, don’t remind me.”

with that, gunwook bid you farewell and walked down to his end of the hall with a yawn. you pushed open your door, allowing it to gently close behind you once you stepped inside. you were a little relieved to be in the comfort of your home if you were honest, simply because going out and dancing as much as you did exhausted you more than you thought it would. 

you breezed through your nightly routine of brushing your teeth, washing your face, and changing into your pajamas before you finally crawled into your bed with a content sigh. there was nothing like curling up under your heavy comforter after exerting more physical work than you initially anticipated. your phone buzzed on your side table next to you, and you quickly picked it up to see a text from an unknown number.

[unknown] who the fuck is this?

[you] your mom LOL

[unknown] if you know what’s good for you, i would stop texting.

feisty one, this one was.

[you] it was just a joke, lighten up

[unknown] if you want to play games with me then so be it. i promise you that you will lose.

[you] what is that supposed to mean?

[unknown] you’ll find out eventually.

[you] is that a threat?

[unknown] maybe, maybe not. it depends on how well you play the games and if the decisions you make are beneficial to you or not. calling the cops will only make things worse. i hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.

opening up your phone app, you quickly typed in gunwook’s number, hoping he would pick up. after the second ring, you heard his voice on the other end of the line, “why are you still awake?”

“hello to you too,” you joked, “i just wanted to update you on what this person i prank texted sent to me. they’re like, really pissed.” you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle, screenshotting the messages and sending them to gunwook so he could see for himself.

he was silent for quite some time, before finally clearing his throat and saying, “they seem serious, y/n. i wouldn’t reply to them again if i were you.”

“this isn’t the first time someone has threatened me, you know,” you teased, your smile still never faltering despite gunwook’s concern for you. he was being dramatic as ever, but you expected nothing less from him in a situation like this. 

“don’t do something to get yourself arrested, yeah? i do not have the money to bail your dumbass out of jail.”

you laughed at his response, “yeah yeah, don’t worry mom, i know what i’m doing.” with that, you said your goodbyes and hung up for the night, throwing your phone on the charger and nuzzling yourself down into your blankets with a tired sigh.

you decided not to take that person’s messages to heart; surely it was just someone who was trying to mess with you right back. this wasn’t the first time people threatened you with things and it definitely wouldn’t be the last.

if only you had known what kind of trouble this would cause you.

the harsh sounds of your alarm clock painfully reminding you that you needed to go to work was not how you wanted to start off your morning, but here you were; head pounding, makeup smeared underneath of your eyes, and your body unbelievably sore. it’s what you deserved, you supposed, it was your fault for staying out with gunwook so late. 

you waited until the last possible minute to get ready for work and head out the door, apron messy and hair lucky to have even been brushed through. you were fortunate to have a ten minute drive at most, so your commute to and from was a lot easier than other jobs you’d had in the past. however, you horribly regretted agreeing to the 7am shift because you truly felt as if you were dying a little bit inside. 

you let out an audible groan upon seeing the amount of cars in the parking lot of the breakfast diner. if you were being honest with yourself, you probably should have just made some excuse and called in, but you also needed to pay your bills so it really wasn’t an option unless you were in dire circumstances. you trudged inside through the back door, quickly clocking in and at least appreciating the aroma of pancakes and coffee. 

“good morning, sunshine!” one of the only co-workers you could stand, taerae, chimed, his bright smile complimenting his chipper mood. 

“morning,” you half-heartedly responded, giving him a tired smile to attempt and make up for it. 

there was a slight pout on taerae’s lips, “what’s got you all grumpy this morning?” he poked your arm playfully, this time earning a more genuine smile from you. 

“a miserable hangover and the worst body aches known to man,” you laughed, mirroring the boy in shoving your apron with straws and napkins for the tables you’d be waiting on in a moment, “gunwook somehow managed to keep me out until one in the morning.”

“let’s get this day going, yeah?” it’ll be over before we know it,” taerae nudged your arm playfully, “you get off at 3, right?”

“yep.”

taerae just beamed at you, his mood never faltering despite your short responses, “if you want, you can come over to my place after our shift and we can hang out and watch tv or something.”

“as tempting as that sounds, i think i’ll just go home and take a nap,” you gave taerae an apologetic look, though he took it well and reassured you that he understood. 

your day drug on longer than most, and you absolutely hated it.

you weren’t sure if it was due to the exhaustion consuming your entire body and you were desperate to go home, or if it was that after the morning rush, the restaurant seemed to be dead. nonetheless, it had been awful and you wanted nothing more than to just curl up in your bed and sleep for twelve hours straight. 

throughout your shift, you’d managed to spill syrup on your shirt - which was white, by the way - and also dropped an entire platter of eggs for a huge party of people who’d come in after morning church. you hadn’t had such an off day since you first started a couple of years ago, so your entire groove being unbalanced only worsened your mood. by the time three o’clock had rolled around, you couldn’t be happier to clock out and bolt to your car with taerae by your side. 

you waved goodbye to your friend and plopped down into the driver’s seat of your car, letting out a long, much needed breath. you were glad to finally be off your feet for the first time since your break earlier in the day. once you pulled into your parking spot, you decided to park your car and relish in the air conditioning for a little while longer. 

you felt your phone buzz in your pocket, and upon pulling it out and glancing at your screen, you were greeted with a text from gunwook begging you to play video games with him and a text from the unknown number you had pranked last night. you blinked slowly upon taking in what was said.

[unknown] looks like you had a rough day. you’re definitely messy.

a shiver ran down your spine, causing goosebumps to rise up on your arms. you quickly typed up a response, which soon turned into more than unpleasant conversation.

[you] haha, very funny. you’re not as intimidating as you think you are.

[unknown] hm, is that so?

[unknown] you drive a small white car and you live in the same apartment complex as your best friend.

[unknown] am i scaring you know?

[you] you’re wrong, lol. you don’t even know me.

[unknown] if i’m so wrong, how come i can see you sitting in your car?

[unknown] you look stunning from afar, i can’t wait to see you up close.

your eyes widened, mind frantic as you looked around in hopes of spotting someone unfamiliar, but you saw absolutely nobody. the vehicles surrounding yours were vacant and there was only your neighbor outside walking their dog, and you knew for a fact it wasn’t them texting you because you hadn’t seen them pull out their phone the entire time they had been outside. you shook your head, finally finding it in you to give the person another response. 

[you] why are you doing this to me? just leave me alone.

[you] i won’t hesitate to call the cops.

[unknown] i wouldn’t do that if i were you.

[unknown] trust me, it won’t work. 

[you] lmao okay.

[unknown] what, you don’t believe me?

[you] not really.

[unknown] what if i told you that if you even attempt to call the cops, or tell anyone else for that matter, that your friend gunwook might be in a lot of trouble?

as much as you tried to suppress your anxiety over the entire situation, you couldn’t help but let it entirely consume you as you shakily dialed gunwook’s number, hoping to god he would pick up the phone. thankfully he did, though you were greeted with a yell of frustration, “damn it!”

“are you okay?” you frantically asked, fearing the absolute worst was happening to him. however, gunwook simply laughed, and you could hear the sounds of fornite and intense key smashing in the background, “that’s what you get, dumbass! i could out shoot you anyday.”

“gunwook,” you practically demanded, ripping him out of his trance from his game. he let out an annoyed sigh, “you got me killed, y/n! this is the most kills i’ve ever gotten in my life!”

you couldn’t keep the tremor out of your voice as you spoke, “gunwook, i need you to listen to me.”

“woah, what’s with the serious tone?” you hoped gunwook was finally taking the hint because you felt like you were going a little crazy. now was definitely not the time for his usual antics.

you sighed, looking around the parking lot once more before answering in a hushed voice, “listen, i’ll explain later, but i need you to lock your door and every single window in your apartment. then i need you to hide somewhere you can’t be found, okay?”

“y/n i don’t under-”

“just do it, gunwook.”

you could imagine him putting his hands up in defense at your words, “okay, jeez. why are you acting so weird?”

you could feel your heart beating out of your chest as you took your car key out of the ignition and slowly exited the cab, making sure to take in every movement and every person you were able to see within your line of vision. you sighed, “i told you i’ll tell you everything soon, okay?”

you were met with silence on the other end, which caused your heart to drop into your stomach. quietly, you whispered, “please tell me you’re still alive.”

“i’m trying to hide like you told me to,” gunwook grunted, and you could hear rustling in the background of the call. at least he was listening, it was way better than him arguing with you and not listening because you had no explanation, “you’re not doing this just to make me look stupid, are you?” you couldn’t help but chuckle at his honest question, answering, “no.”

by now, you were inside of your apartment complex, hurriedly climbing the stairs to the second floor and rushing into your apartment, hastily locking the door and looking around to see if anything was tampered with or off. thankfully, everything seemed to be okay, and while you let out a sigh of relief, you knew it wouldn’t last for long.

“seriously, y/n, what’s up with you?”

you locked yourself in your bathroom, leaning your back up against the door with a sigh. it was difficult finding the right words to even say, let alone tell him he was in danger with someone you didn’t even know the name of. finally, you parted your lips to speak, voice still hushed despite no longer being outside, “i think i’m being stalked, and i’m being threatened with harm coming to you because of it.”

there was radio silence on his end for a moment; surely he was freaking out, hell, you were too, and you knew that this entire situation was scary. relief washed over you upon hearing his voice, knowing he was okay, “is it from the same number you texted last night? there’s no way someone is stalking you after a silly little prank text. besides, it's only been a day.”

“i-i can show you the texts, they’re dead serious i think. they know where i live, where i work, and what color car i drive, your name,” your voice was beginning to tremble, panic settling in now, “i don’t know what to do, and i don’t want any harm to come to you either.”

“we’ll stay on the phone the rest of the night then, okay? they’re less likely to strike if you have someone on the other line.”

“i’m so sorry you have to deal with all of this and that i’m the reason you’re involved,” you felt a tear race down your cheek, eyes closing as you took a deep breath to keep yourself from bursting into a full on sob, "i should have never sent that text."

“it’s not like you asked for this. besides, even if i wasn’t involved, i would make sure i was because there’s no way i’ll let you go through something like this alone,” the sincerity in his voice was enough to make you feel slightly better. the boy chuckled softly, “since we’re staying on the phone, is it okay if i come out of my closet? it’s not very gunwook friendly.”

you nodded, though you remembered he couldn’t see you, and finally you replied, “yeah, that’s totally fine.”

there was some rustling on his end once more, and once it stopped, you assumed he had finally made it out. however, upon getting no response from him when you asked a question, you pulled your phone away from your ear to take a quick glance at your screen, only to be met with your call log instead of gunwook’s name taking up most of the display. you swore you could feel your heart fall to your stomach, fingers hurriedly moving to try and call him back, but it rang until it went to voicemail.

“no! no no no,” you chanted, flinging open the bathroom door and beginning to head toward your entryway. 

your phone pinged, letting you know you were receiving text messages, which you assumed were from the person causing your most recent slew of events. 

[unknown] big mistake on your part.

[unknown] i told you not to say anything to anyone.

[unknown] you fucked up, y/n.

[unknown] your actions have consequences.

[unknown] my game, my rules.

[unknown] he’s not dead this time. 

you shook your head in disbelief, sprinting through your front door and down the hallway, only to be greeted with gunwook’s door slightly agape and the sounds of his muffled groans resonating from somewhere within his apartment. you rushed in, desperately searching for him, calling out, “gunwook?”

“in here,” he grumbled, and you followed the sound of his voice until you found him in the fetal position on his bedroom floor, hands clutching his stomach and eyes screwed shut in a futile attempt to cope with whatever pain he was feeling. 

you were on the carpet next to him in an instant, taking note of a thin stream of blood trickling from his nose and a deep, purple bruise already beginning to form just beneath his eye. you let your tears freely fall. gunwook was like this because of you. sparing him an apologetic look, you quietly whispered, “i’m going to check and make sure they aren’t here.”

“he and whoever was with him are gone,” gunwook replied, “they both left a few minutes before you came in. they also wanted me to tell you his name was ricky."

upon hearing gunwook’s words, you pulled a napkin out of your apron, leaning forward to wipe some of the blood from beneath his nose. he winced a little, but allowed you to continue, tears still blurring your vision at the sight of him like this. the both of you fell into silence; you wanted to give him a chance to recoup from everything that had occurred and not overwork himself too much. 

after a few more minutes, and helping him sit up straight, you eventually mumbled, “i’m so sorry, wookie.”

“don’t worry about it,” he chuckled, gingerly touching the area around his eye, “maybe now things will stop.”

you huffed in annoyance, averting your gaze from his gentle one, “i just don’t understand why he felt the need to do this to you because of me.”

by this point, your mind was reeling. why would someone get so upset over a silly little text? to the point of following you, tormenting you, and bringing harm to the people around you that you care about? it made absolutely no sense to you. 

it almost felt as if whoever was taunting you did things like this frequently. you were beginning to feel hopeless, as if there was no way out of this. it hadn’t even been a full day since you sent the first text and things had already escalated to violence and blatant stalking.

your phone dinged with another text message, jolting you out of your thoughts and causing gunwook’s eyes to widen in fear. you pulled it from your back pocket, reading the message aloud so gunwook could know what it said too.

[unknown] let this be a lesson. you’re not out of the woods yet, nor do i think i want you to be. here’s a hint as we continue to play our little game: make good decisions, face less consequences.

gunwook shook his head in disbelief, “why is he doing this? what is he even gaining?”

“i don’t know, but i’m already tired of it,’ you answered, a deep frown forming on your lips as you shoved your phone back into your pocket. 

“i guess we’re gonna have to find out.”

a few days had passed since your ricky had made his appearance into gunwook’s apartment, and the same amount of time since receiving any kind of text from him. you weren’t sure if that was because you and gunwook stayed attached at the hip for the entirety of that time, or if it was because he was truly done messing with your head, but you were glad to have been able to feel some sort of relief. you hardly slept, but you managed to make it through your shifts at the breakfast diner without any issues somehow. 

taerae had checked up on you a couple of times, taking note of how exhausted you were and the dark circles that had made their new home beneath your eyes. you decided to play it safe, just telling him you’d had issues with your neighbors keeping you up all hours of the night. the last thing you needed was for him to get involved in the situation, too.

soon, you were clocking out after your third shift since ricky’s attack, a tired sigh slipping past your lips. you waved goodbye to taerae, letting him know that you would see him once more tomorrow morning, which was going to be one of the busiest days of the week for the two of you. despite him asking you to hang out at his house, you’d managed to get out some excuse so you didn’t expand ricky’s knowledge of your whereabouts and bring another innocent person into the entire situation.

you walked through the back door to the parking lot, greeted by gunwook’s idling car as he’d waited for your shift to end. you clambered into the passenger seat, shoulders slumping and a wave of defeat overcoming you. he rested his hand on your knee, squeezing gently before he began to drive to your apartment complex, his music playing softly in the background.

he was the first one to break the silence, stating, “i did some research to see if i could find anything on ricky.”

“you what?” you shot up, eyes wide in disbelief, “gunwook, that is so dangerous.”

a slight pout made his way into his expression, “i’m just sick of seeing you like this, and i want to put an end to it.”

“you don’t have to put yourself in danger because of me.”

“i would do anything for you, you know that,” you could feel your gaze soften at his words, “besides, we’re in this together now. something has to give eventually.”

you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth, picking absentmindedly at the skin, curiosity eventually getting the best of you, “did you find anything?”

“i found an article saying he’s wanted for breaking and entering,” gunwook answered, “but that was it. i think it said he was twenty three or something like that? i honestly don’t know, but he’s notorious for this apparently.”

you were quick to pull your phone from your pocket, quickly looking for the article gunwook had mentioned. the headline was written in bold, black letters, a photo of him accompanying it just underneath. you felt terrified finally being able to put a face to the name. 

he was handsome, though you hated to admit that. dark, black hair was parted in the middle, his kind eyes deceiving to the person he actually was. he was almost cat-like, features slender and a slight smile twinging on his lips. you felt your stomach begin to churn uneasily.

angrily, you opened up your messages app, deciding to finally give ricky a taste of his own sick, twisted medicine.

[you] what you did on sunday was fucked up.

[unknown] gunwook is still alive, isn’t he?

[you] yeah, with a couple of broken ribs to make up for it.

[you] you’re sick, you know that?

[you] i’m tired of playing this game, ricky.

[unknown] oh, but darling, the fun has only just begun.

[you] what is that supposed to mean?

[unknown] i’ve already told you that your actions have consequences. for lack of better words, i get to control your life now.

[you] please, just leave me alone.

[you] gunwook too, he’s done absolutely nothing wrong. he wasn’t the one who texted you in the first place.

[unknown] it doesn’t matter, being able to use him as a pawn makes this all the more fun.

[unknown] i get to use him against you.

[you] that’s not fair, none of this is fucking fair.

[you] there’s an article i read about you.

[you] i’m going to find you and turn you in, mark my fucking words.

[unknown] okay.

[unknown] whatever it is you do, you will suffer, one way or another.

[unknown] i have ways to get under your skin, y/n, and i’m not afraid to exhaust all my options.

[unknown] threatening me will get you nowhere.

[you] we’ll see about that.

by now, gunwook had pulled into his parking spot and was reading over your shoulder, his mouth agape at the conversation that had just unfolded right in front of his eyes. you met your gaze with his, determination filling you up, “we’re not going to let him win.”

gunwook swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he nodded - albeit, wearily - and you could tell he was beginning to trust your entire thought process. that’s really all you needed; his support and willingness to bring ricky down with you, though you knew you didn’t have to try hard to convince him otherwise. the two of you headed into your building, trudging up the stairs and into your apartment, ensuring every single lock was enabled on the door.

the next two days went by rather smoothly, the two of you doing research on self-defense and many other things pertaining to your current situation. you were finally able to get a few hours of sleep, which was a lot more than you’d been able to get the entire week, so you couldn’t help but feel a little grateful. 

things had gone smoothly, once again not hearing anything from ricky and feeling a false sense of security beginning to blanket over you, though you knew better than to let your guard down until you knew for sure everything was truly over. 

you’d spent your nights sharing a bed with gunwook, entangled in one another’s arms in hopes of providing some sort of comfort. it also let you both know you were still there, still breathing, and still by each other’s side. despite your newfound confidence of being able to take ricky down, you couldn’t help but still feel the lingering fear in the back of your mind.

there was always a chance things could go horribly wrong.

you were now at work, your exhaustion for more evident now than it had been earlier in the week. taerae was quick to notice, finally telling you, “no offense, y/n, but you look awful.”

his sudden appearance behind you caused you to jump in surprise, the bag of coffee grounds in your hand tumbling down to the ground with a soft thud, its contents spilling out onto the floor. you groaned to yourself, burying your hands in your face in an attempt to hide any tears that ight have involuntarily dripped onto your cheeks.

“i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” taerae apologized, crouching to the ground alongside you, “here, let me help.”

the two of you worked together to get them cleaned up off of the floor, discarding everything into one of the trash cans once you were finished. you gave him a solemn look, finally answering his first statement, “it just hasn’t been a good week, is all.”

“do you wanna talk about it? i’m all ears,” he offered, patting your shoulder in reassurance. 

your eyes flitted up to meet with his, concern dancing in his dark irises, and you felt a plethora of different emotions. on one hand, you wanted to be able to rant about it to someone other than gunwook to try and get an unbiased point of view, but on the other, you didn’t want to put his life in danger either. 

you sighed defeatedly, “do you promise not to tell anyone? it’s kind of a big deal.”

“of course not, anything you say is safe with me.”

with a hushed voice and eyes soaking up every inch of your surroundings, you began to recount the week’s past events to taerae, sparing no details whatsoever. you showed him the initial prank text and allowed him to read everything afterward, filling him on the attack on gunwook, the article, everything. 

you eventually pulled up ricky’s photo upon taerae’s request, and his eyes widened with fear, “this is some serious shit, y/n, you need to call the cops.”

“i can’t, and i won’t,” was your automatic response, “he’s threatened me multiple times to bring worse harm to gunwook and i’m sure he’ll somehow find out that i’ve told you all of this somehow and hold it against me,” you added.

taerae frowned at your reply, “i’ll help you out in any way i can, alright?”

he pulled you into a tight hug, and you couldn’t help but feel a little bit better knowing you had someone else on your side to help you get to the root of your problems. it almost felt as if a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

taerae’s signature catchphrase was the next thing to come from his mouth, “let’s get this day started, yeah?” giving your frame one final squeeze before you dove into your work of waiting tables and sending orders to the back.

the day had gone by a lot better than you expected it to despite fearing anything could happen to you or gunwook, and now taerae, at any given moment. you didn’t mess up any of your orders and gunwook had periodically texted you to inform you of what he was doing and to check in overall with you.

for once, you didn’t feel on edge. that is, until the man who had been causing you severe mental turmoil had walked through the front door, the little bell signaling his arrival. 

you felt a lump rise uncomfortably in your throat, blood running cold at the sight of him. you hadn’t expected him to blatantly show his face to you like this, but you supposed this was karma for even saying a single word to taerae about the entire situation. 

you accidentally made eye contact with him, his piercing eyes and slender figure looking more intimidating in person than in the photo you’d seen of him. luckily, another one of your co-workers seated him somewhere that wasn’t in your realm of tables. you quickly ran to the back hands trembling as you reached out for taerae, who was surprised by your sudden panic.

“he’s here,” you barely managed to squeak out, “i’m kind of freaking out.”

“do you want me to call the police? if he’s wanted, anyone could, and if i do it the it can’t be traced back to you,” he inquired, appearing to be in the same state of shock as you. 

you nodded, shoving the diner’s phone in his direction, “please hurry, he saw me.”

the string of events following afterward felt like a blur; the wailing of the police sirens, the officers putting ricky in handcuffs, and gunwook having rushed directly to the diner to comfort you. his arms wrapped tightly around you, his chin resting on top of your head as you cried into his chest, mumbling into your hair softly, “it’s over, y/n. it’s finally over.”

the day of ricky’s arrest, you were finally able to sleep without the fear of anything happening to you, gunwook, or taerae. however, you still remained glued to gunwook’s side for the following couple of weeks. you weren’t sure if it was lingering paranoia, or if it was that something inside of you still believed that ricky would be able to contact you from jail. 

you tried to suppress those thoughts, though it didn’t work for long, because the moment you plopped down onto the couch next to your best friend to eat your dinner, the news flashed a headline that made you almost drop everything from your hands entirely.

man found not guilty at trial for breaking and entering into various homes.

and there, displayed right behind the thick words, was the same photo of ricky you’d had nightmares about. your jaw fell slack in shock, gunwook mumbling beside you, “what the fuck?”

“shh,” you waved your hand to prevent him from talking any further, “let’s listen and see what it says.”

“this is sung hanbin, reporting to you live with an update of a story we covered previously. a man under the name of shen ricky was suspected several weeks ago for breaking and entering into various different homes, and police believed it to be the man you see here on screen.

however, we have been informed that this is not the case.

the man you see here proved himself innocent at his trial on monday by presenting the court with evidence of his birth certificate and driver’s license. we have learned that this man’s name is kim jiwoong, not shen ricky.

he was arrested at the wake up cafe in the heart of seoul. police are still on the hunt for shen ricky, so if you have any leads, you can anonymously leave them at the number running along the bottom of the screen. there is no accurate picture of him at this time.

kim jiwoong has been released from the custody of authorities. we’ll keep you updated when we find out anymore information, but as of right now, this is all we have.

once again, this was sung hanbin with your local news. let’s head over to seok matthew for the weather forecast of the week.”

the moment the weather came on, you and gunwook shared a look of sheer panic, completely frozen with no inkling of what you should do. as if on a cue, your phone lit up with a string of text messages from your stalker. 

[unknown] did you really think you could get away with this, y/n?

[unknown] this is going to have some major consequences.

[unknown] i can only imagine how your pathetic little brain convinced you that you were out of the woods, but you could not have been more wrong.

[you] why won’t you just leave me alone? haven’t you done enough damage?

[you] you’ve ruined my life.

[unknown] that was the whole point of this, darling.

[unknown] i’m hoping to teach you the lesson to never, ever prank text phone numbers again.

[you] i think i’ve learned that lesson, please, just stop.

[unknown] not yet.

[unknown] you haven’t even come close to learning your lesson.

[unknown] but you will, soon. trust me.

[you] i’m sorry, okay? is that what you wanted to hear?

[unknown] sorry won’t fix this.

you locked your phone and threw it across the room, the object clattering onto the floor. you couldn’t help but silently hope that it was broken and ricky could no longer contact you. tears welled up in your eyes - you knew your peace was too good to be true, that something was bound to go horribly wrong, but you never once thought it would be this.

you found it hard to breathe, finally locking your eyes with gunwook, voice cracking as you told him, “this is what i imagine living in hell feels like.”

he pulled you into a hug, desperate to hold you as tight as possible, and make sure you were close to him, “we’re gonna get through this, okay? don’t you worry.”

“how can you be so sure?”

“i’m not, but we have to believe it in order to survive, okay? we don’t know what this man is fully capable of, so we need to brace ourselves,” was his answer, and all you could do was nod. 

gunwook fell silent for a moment, deep in thought as he rubbed your back gently, a sniffles able to be heard from him as he did so, “let’s get out of town.”

you pulled away from his embrace, flashing him a sad, defeated smile, “i don’t think that’s going to work.”

“why wouldn’t it? we could get a rental car or something so he can’t trace us. it’s worth a shot.”

you were hesitant for a moment, worried that there would even larger consequences for this, but finally said, “fine, let’s do it.”

after your discussion, you packed a suitcase full of things for your journey, hoping to god you were bringing everything essential. you knew there was no returning to this place once you did, so you needed to make sure anything sentimental was stored away in between your clothes and hygiene products. 

the tension in the air was thick, so much so you could almost cut it with a knife. you were risking your lives for this, for an escape into the freedom from this nightmare you’d been longing for the moment it started. 

you zipped the suitcase shut, hands visibly shaking as you did so, and once you were finished you looked at gunwook and said, “let’s get your things and book it.”

you ventured to gunwook’s apartment, deciding to stick together through it all. you couldn’t jeopardize a single thing; you knew that somehow, every move you made was being watched like a hawk. gunwook made a beeline for the bathroom, you following closely behind, and keeping an eye out as he rummaged through the cupboard beneath his sink. 

as he began to rise to his feet, rustling was able to be seen behind the shower curtain. you parted your lips, desperate to spit the words out sitting on the tip of your tongue, “gunwook, watch out!”

but you were too late, because in one swift motion, the curtain was thrown back and a baseball bat was swinging down with a sickening crack to the back of his head. the recoil echoed against the walls, the sounds of bone crushing being enough to make you feel as if you could vomit at any given moment. 

you watched in horror as gunwook’s body crumpled to the cold tile floor, a labored wheeze erupting from him. thick, crimson blood that reeked of copper pooled around the back of his head, tears slipping out of the corners of his eyes as he looked up at you through them, bottom lip quivering. 

you were next to him in an instant, attempting to apply pressure to stop the bleeding. it was hard to ignore the way his skull felt like rice krispie treats in your hand, or how his erratic breathing was becoming the more he realized what was happening. you weren’t sure how you managed to get any words out of your mouth as you said, “i need you to stay with me, wookie, please.”

it was almost as if the world around you was completely gone, and in this moment, it was just you and gunwook as you held him, watching as he took his very last breath. a mangled cry ripped from your lungs, your hands trying like crazy to get him to say something, anything, but it was no use. 

he was gone. 

“i’m so sorry,” you wailed, “i’m so fucking sorry, gunwook. you did nothing to deserve this.”

you sniffled, brushing his hair out of his eyes to get a better look at his face, which held an almost peaceful expression. warmth radiated against your back, hot breath fanning against your ear, goosebumps arising on your skin as he spoke, “it’s not what he did, it’s what you did. i told you that there would be major consequences, didn’t i?”

his fingers trailed up and down your arm, “you just don’t know how to keep that stupid little mouth of yours shut, do you?”

“get the fuck away from me,” you growled, voice coming out a lot stronger than you had anticipated, “now.”

“getting all tough, are you?” he backed away slowly, hands mockingly up in the air, and you took this as your opportunity to turn and look at the man behind you. 

blonde hair was sitting atop his head, slicked back in an almost elegant way, forehead glistening with sweat. he had plump, dark pink lips curled up into a sinister grin, and blood was splattered across the expanse of his face. gunwook’s blood. a shiver raced down your spine at the sight of him, entirely too terrified to act on any thought of harming him that came to your brain. 

the sounds of sirens blaring on the street below carried into the small bathroom you were currently inhabiting, which alerted ricky that it was his time to go. he stepped behind you once more, his chin resting on your shoulder as he murmured, “if you know what’s good for you, he slipped and hit his head.”

and with that, he pushed past you, slinking away before you could fully see which direction he went and how he managed to escape the apartment. within mere seconds, police officers, firefighters, and emts were questioning you, asking how this had happened and for how long he’d been unconcious. everything was a blur and you honestly didn’t remember most of your encounters with the emergency personnel, but you knew one thing for certain. you didn’t fight back this time.

you gave in the shen ricky. 

the next few weeks were arguably the worst of your life. you had to bury your best friend, work double after double, and barely got any sleep. the lie of gunwook suffering a freak accident kept slipping through your teeth, and you felt an unexplainable amount of self hatred for it. 

but you knew gunwook would have encouraged you to.

you were determined now more than ever to take down ricky, no matter what it took, which was why you were currently sat down with taerae in his living room spilling your guts, completely unafraid of what consequences might come to you because of it. the look of bewilderment and shock on his face was hard to miss as he stated, “you need to tell the police the truth.”

“you know i can’t, taerae,” was your immediate response, followed by a sigh, “i wish i could, but i want to try and take him down myself. it started with him and i, so it should end with him and i.”

taerae looked at you inquisitively, a deep frown settling in on his lips, “i’m not sure that’s a good idea. i mean, what if he kills you too?”

“that’s the price i’m willing to pay if it means i at least attempt to get justice for gunwook.”

taerae fell completely silent, as if entranced by his thoughts. his expression was difficult for you to read and if you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t really have the mental capacity to try and decipher his emotions. 

you were just about to retreat back to your own apartment before taerae’s words stopped you dead in your tracks, “i’ll help you.”

“really?” you questioned, brows furrowing, “are you sure? i don’t want you to feel obligated.”

“no, no, i want to,” he retorted, “gunwook was my friend too and i want to make sure he’s avenged as well. we can do this, yeah?”

with that, you and taerae had planned for weeks on how you were going to lure ricky in and try to get the upper hand on him. you knew the plan was becoming more and more well-developed, and soon, you were feeling confident that it would work, that you had a chance. taerae was quite clever, you had learned, and had come up with things you would have never even thought of on your own. 

you were beyond grateful for him, especially since he was distracting you from the giant, gaping hole in your heart that was missing gunwook. you still cried until your lungs gave out, visited his grave as frequently as possible, and texted his phone even though you knew you would never get an answer. it just kept feuling you to perfect this plan, to finally catch ricky off guard, to finally put an end to whatever it was he was trying to accomplish.

you hadn’t heard from him in a while, so you suspected that you would need to do some provoking in order to get him back into your life. you were currently working on thinking of something to text him, deciding to head over to taerae’s apartment to ask his opinion on what you currently had drafted.

you knocked on his front door, almost instantly greeted by his bright smile, and stepped into the entryway of his home. you began to speak, eyes flitting down to your phone screen so you could open up your notes app, focus entirely on getting to that. he was oddly quiet today, which you were going to ask him about, but you were too late.

the dark haired boy you’d been spending your time with was holding a cloth to your nose, apologizing as you lost consciousness. 

you slowly peeled your eyes open, greeted by complete darkness, absolutely no source of light able to be found despite your efforts. you were still groggy from whatever sleep you had just awoken from, but soon, you could feel yourself begin to panic. you were sitting straight up in a chair, thick, coarse ropes bound around your wrists and ankles and a blindfold around your eyes. you struggled against them, but to no avail.

everything was starting to flood your mind; telling taerae the truth about gunwook and him being the last person you saw before you slipped into your deep slumber. to say you were beyond angry with him was an understatement. you were honestly enraged, unable to think clearly as you began struggling once more, desperately trying to break free from your spot, but it was no use.

a voice sounded off next to you, “they’re awake, ricky.”

the creaking of a door opening followed by heavy footsteps was able to be heard, and the next thing you knew, ricky was behind you once more, all too familiar of the night he killed gunwook. his warm breath fanned across the side of your face, and you could almost hear the smirk on his face as he inquired, “how are you, sweetheart?”

“what do you think?” you sarcastically remarked.

ricky chuckled lowly, “i know it’s not comfortable, but we can’t risk you escaping, can we?”

slowly, ricky untied your blindfold, letting it plop down on your lap. a harsh, white light greeted you, causing you to squint in a futile attempt to gather your surroundings. the floor was made of concrete and the walls were decorated with many things that you didn’t even want to begin to imagine they were used for.

your heart rate began to quicken at the thought of ricky torturing you with them. you knew what he was capable of and he would likely have no opposition to making your life a living hell - he had definitely done that already, but still.

you finally found the courage to speak again, meeting your gaze with ricky, who was clearly satisfied with the sight of you entirely helpless, “why are you doing this to me?”

“oh darling, don’t get ahead of yourself in thinking your special enough to think you’re our only victim,” the mock sympathy in ricky’s voice made you queasy, “this is taerae and i’s little game, we’ve had countless people like you that we’ve toyed with.”

“you’re sick!” you exclaimed, disgust contorting your facials features into a look of disbelief.

ricky circled around you, slender fingers trailing across your shoulders as he did so. you flinched at the sensation, wanting nothing more than for him to get his hands off of you entirely.

“that’s the whole point, y/n,” taerae piped up from his spot, arms crossed over his chest as he watched his partner torment you with each and every move he made.

“you see,” ricky started, beginning to trace the pads of his fingers up the side of your neck and to your jaw, “we put that phone number on the diner wall to lure people like you in. we’ve been doing this for a little over a year now. it’s quite fun.”

you shuddered at his words, unable to believe that truly evil people like this somehow existed in the world. tears welled up into your eyes, involuntarily dripping down onto your cheeks the more ricky touched you. it was almost as if his touch was poison, and you felt a burning itch on every inch if your skin that he ghosted his fingers over.

the blonde finally stopped, cupping your cheek and catching one of your tears, “you’re the most beautiful one we’ve gotten so far, you know. you should be proud of that.”

your voice was shaky but firm, “yeah, because it’s some prestigious award. got it.”

“you’ve also been the most interesting one,” ricky mused, his head cocked to the side slightly, “you put up quite the fight.”

his words gave you the final push to do what had crossed your mind the moment he stepped in front of you. taking a deep breath, swiftly lifting up your legs and jutting them forward into ricky’s gut, forcing him to buckle over at the impact, a dissatisfied grunt falling from his mouth.

you somehow found the strength to stand up despite still being restrained to the chair beneath you, swinging it around to smack ricky with its legs as he attempted to lunge at you. his voice echoed throughout the room as he yelled, “get them, taerae, don’t just stand there like a dumbass!”

by now you had begun to hop away, desperate to find something, anything that to get the rope at least off of your wrists. There were multiple tools and weapons hung on the walls and scattered about the room, and you were able to set your focus on a knife that you saw sitting on the edge of a table within reach in your current state.

you hopped along as fast as your bound up legs would carry you, but you didn’t reach it in time. instead, taerae had yanked you backward, sending you toppling to the ground with a harsh thud. the wood of the chair had split as you did so, a sharp piece sinking into the flesh of your thigh. you let out a pained yelp, “fuck!”

“i bet that hurts,” taerae snorted, “glad it’s not me.”

you laughed dryly, “you know, i never expected you to be part of whatever this is. i thought you were better than that, taerae.”

the boy frowned, one of his dimples peeking out as he did so, “yeah, well, that’s what you get for letting your guard down so easily. i was able to tell ricky absolutely everything.”

“figures.”

the blonde was now standing next to taerae, anger dancing dangerously in his dark irises. it was hard to miss the knife in his hand, gleaming teasingly at you in the light, “can we just put an end to this?”

“wait!” you cried out, attempting to reason with ricky, “if i’m so interesting, why not let me try and put up a fight of my own?”

ricky cackled loudly, “you won’t win.”

“please, just let me try.”

ricky observed your current state and ultimately decided to nod at taerae, signaling for him to let you free from your restraints. he did as he was told, cutting away the ropes from your hands and feet quickly, soon standing back in the spot he behind ricky was previously occupying.

you got up, gingerly touching where the wood was currently impaled in your leg. you winced at the feeling, deciding to bite the bullet and pull as much out of your flesh as you could. if it was sharp enough to hurt you, then it was certainly sharp enough to hurt ricky.

you finally straightened your posture, gripping onto the wood as tightly as you could. you furrowed your brows in concentration, “let's do this.”

ricky immediately lunged forward, attempting to sink the knife into your shoulder, but you managed to dodge him. you were caught in a cat and mouse game, trying your best to get as much leverage over ricky as you possibly could, but to no avail. all of your attempts would up with a quick slice of the knife on your arms and legs, and you had only managed to get one hit on the blonde with your makeshift weapon.

the more blood you lost, mainly from the injury in your leg, the weaker and less adept you became. it hurt to put much pressure on it, let alone attempt to run from the situation entirely. you supposed that's probably what you should have done from the beginning, but with taerae there to aid ricky in any way, your chances of fully escaping were slim and you knew that.

you were panting, trying like hell to get something on ricky, but instead, he managed to get the upper hand, lurching toward you and finally sinking the blade into your abdomen, your back pressed against the cool tile of the wall behind you. freezing in your place, you found it hard to process what was going on, glancing down at the handle and his skin coated with your blood. this was it, this was the end.

he got impossibly close to you, his lips brushing your ear as he said, “play stupid games, win stupid prizes, love.”

you were beginning to fade in and out of consciousness, sliding down the wall and leaving a streak of thick, crimson blood in your wake. your trembling hands were beginning to steady and you were feeling yourself slip out of touch with reality.

the last thing you could remember was ricky’s evil chuckle and the loom of satisfaction in your eye before your vision blurred and everything went black.

except this time, you wouldn't be waking up.

[deanwinchesterswitch]

Dreams of Happiness

Summary: You’re doing well in your new life—many would say you’re ‘living the dream’. The only problem is, it’s not the life you dreamed of living.

Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Angst; Some fluff; Language; Mentions of smut; Canon divergence.

Betas: @princessmisery666 and @wayward-and-worn

Word Count: 2,747

Part One

It’s been a long time since you’ve attended one of the monthly gatherings. The possibility of seeing Dean makes your chest clench with pain, punching the air from your lungs. Yet, you miss your found family, and avoiding them to avoid him, serves no purpose. Besides, you're in a better place emotionally now. At least that’s what you keep telling everyone, anyway.

Eyes scanning the room as you pull out of Jody’s hug, your heart stalls at her next words, unsure if it’s from gratified relief or abject longing.

“They’re not coming,” Jody informs you, handing over the glass of whiskey in her hand. “Caught a case at the last minute.”

“Oh, sure,” you shrug, “I could have handled it if he was here.” The cock of her eyebrow lets you know that she can see right through the facade. Jody is the big sister you always wished you had. There’s no hiding from that all-knowing scrutiny. “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

“You doing alright?” she prods.

“I’m great. Things are going good.” You are not great. Things are not good. The reality is so far from either of those that you’re unsure where you’d begin to explain. “How’s everyone?”

“We’re good. The girls are excited about seeing you.”

“Of course they are. I’m the cool aunt.”

“You’re the only aunt,” she deadpans.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m still cool.”

As if on cue, Alex and Claire burst into the room, shoving each other and shouting your name, vying for your attention. Taking a large gulp of whiskey, you hand the glass back to Jody just as two sets of arms squeeze you tight in their hold.

A couple of hours later, the bathroom mirror reflects a genuine smile, contentment from being around the ones you love. Exiting the bathroom, you’re stopped in your tracks outside Alex’s room, overhearing your name.

“She looks happy,” Claire states.

“I don’t know. There’s a sadness in her eyes that wasn’t there before.” Alex always seemed to understand you. Relate to you a little better. When you showed up on Jody’s doorstep, physically and mentally exhausted, emotionally devastated, she had been the one to help paste the pieces back together enough for you to function again in the world outside their home.

“Well, I think they’re both a couple of dumbasses. Everyone can see that they belong together. Did you see his reaction last time when Jody told him she wasn’t coming? And she is obviously disappointed that he isn’t here today.” 

Claire’s no slouch at observing people either, and you reluctantly smile at her forthright assessment. You’re curious about his reaction, and though you know you’re wrong for eavesdropping, you silently lean a little closer to the open doorway, hoping to hear more about him.

“Yeah, but they both seem to be moving on. The art business is working out great for her, and he’s still out there putting himself in harm’s way to save the world.”

Does he know about your new business venture? Maybe he believes that you are happier without him. Agitation begins to coil in your chest at Alex’s response, but Claire’s next words cut a broad stroke through your heart.

“She still loves him, though, don’t you think?”

Of course, I do! I can’t just throw a switch and stop.

“I think so. Her poker face is almost as good as his, so it’s hard to tell for sure. I wish she’d talk to us about it.” 

There’s no way I can talk about him. It’s too difficult to explain. It still hurts too much. 

“I bet he still loves her even though he’s being an idiot.”

“I know, but,” Alex’s disgruntled huff reaches your ears, “Sam said he’s back to picking up waitr-”

You need air—an escape. 

Stumbling down the stairs and sprinting toward the front door, you hastily call to the group in the living room that you’re going out for a while. Not waiting for a response, you rush to your car, tires squealing as you pull away from the curb, bound for the lake a few miles from Jody’s. Windows down, wind whipping at your hair, the sequenced pitch of rubber racing over asphalt begins to soothe your troubled mind. Backing up to the edge of the rocky beach, you breathe a shaky sigh of relief, solace seeping through you with the familiarity of your surroundings, your sanctuary.

A swath of emotions threatens to bleed through your pores, but you hold them back until you're lying in the bed of the truck. Staring up at the inky darkness, tears coat and gloss your eyes, turning the view into an image reminiscent of Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

As the months dragged on, you got better at keeping the guilt and desolation hidden, putting on a show for others. A bright smile painted on your face, posing an apathetic demeanor whenever he’s mentioned. Yet, there are still times when you least expect it, caught off guard like tonight, that the hard outline is feathered by grief.

You’d heard tidbits of information about him when running into old acquaintances—laughing, joking, playing pool, the occasional story about him leaving with a beautiful woman draped around him. What you knew, though, that most of them didn’t, was that beneath the cheeky swagger he showed to the world was a compassionate, kind heart steeped in a complex, volatile cocktail of emotions. The person the world saw was only a guise shielding the man you knew and loved.

So you had taken their words with a grain of salt. You’d smile and nod, steer them back to talking about whatever case they were working. They’d eventually ask you to help. If you could, you’d assist with the lore but decline further involvement, telling them, ‘I’m not a hunter.’ As time passed, it became easier to say, but the sting continued to echo.

Hearing about his extracurricular activities with Sam as the source cut deep. It had to be true, then. Didn’t it? Sam was ground zero. Dean had moved on… let you go. Did he even love you anymore?

Colors blend and evanesce, fingers brushing cold metal as you absentmindedly reach for the warmth and security of a hand no longer there. A lost comfort, an intangible ache that lingers on your skin. Fuck, you miss him. You’ve made some pretty questionable decisions over the years, but leaving him ranks the highest. If there were a way to take it all back, you would. Tell him that you were wrong to leave, that you meant all the promises contained in the last words you said to him. You figure he knows on some level. It doesn’t make your choice any easier to accept.

You left him to deal with the never-ending cycle of douchebag demons, dickhead angels, and whatever new monster of the week emerged. Left him alone with the burden of saving the world on top of all the emotional trauma he constantly tries to shove down and hide away.

Hands curling into fists, heated tears whitewash a salty trail to your hairline unabated. There’s no reason to repair the peeling varnish of the facade you painted with no one around to assess the damage. So you let the heartache fade and blur into memories.

“A fireplace.” Rough-skinned fingers traced a path down your spine, palm coming to rest on your hip.

“It takes up half the wall,” a quick nip at his ear, “with a big fluffy rug and lots of pillows. Glass panels on either side to watch the snowfall.”

He laughed, “You’ve been watching too many of those sappy movies again. Not everything is a Hallmark moment.”

“When I’m with you, it feels like it.”

A random conversation that had become a ritual after bad hunts. Sometimes after good ones too, when you were both feeling overly optimistic about the future. The two of you, naked and cuddled close, on a blanket staring up at the stars, in Baby’s backseat, or safe in your bed at the bunker, whispering sweet, healing words and envisioning the home he would build for the two of you post-hunting life. It was a way to escape the horrors of the current day-to-day. Light in the darkness; hope where sometimes it seemingly never existed.

“A chef’s kitchen. Open concept, restaurant grade appliances, butcher’s block, and a marble countertop for rolling out pie dough.”

The sweet scrape of scruff against your flesh and heated breath, “An island I can bend you over and rail you from behind.”

“Wow, what a sweet talker.” You’d kissed him until there were no breaths left to share. Then he’d taken you on the backseat, tender and loving, like you had all the time in the world, replacing whispered words with cries of passion.

Rufus’ old safe house in Montana would be the perfect fixer-upper. By the time you remembered it, it was too late, and you never got the chance to mention it to him. Sam had kept the three of you on a string of hunts until one of them became the final straw for Dean. It had been a bit of a rough one. The witch had nearly succeeded in making you her next sacrifice, but you’d managed to outmaneuver and kill her just as the boys burst into the room. Dean had not been happy. 

Between fuming bouts of silence, you’d argued, for hours, the entire ten-hour drive back to the bunker. Sam was so fed up that Baby was barely parked before he was out, grabbing a set of keys to one of the old cars and driving off without a word to either of you. By the time the two of you reached the bedroom, the fight had come to a head, and the spiteful words cut deep.

“Let’s sleep on it, and we can talk tomorrow.”

“I want you to leave.”

“Fine. I’ll sleep in my old room tonight.”

“No. I want you to pack your things and get out of the bunker. I’m tired of having to rescue you. I’ve got enough on my plate without having to try and keep you from getting yourself killed all the time.”

Anger had instantly flared, “You’re being an asshole! How-,” but as you’d fired back, you caught the flash of torment in his gaze and realized what he was trying to do. Quickly switching tactics, you’d attempted to reason with him. The harsh words thrown back at you had felt like a salt round to the chest at close range.

“...You’re not a hunter. You’re a liability.” 

Dean’s anger was a sight to behold but had never before been directed at you with such force. He’d drawn himself up—arms crossed, stance widened, face an unyielding mask, eyes dark, glare chilling, breath nearly undetectable. For a moment, you wondered if you reached out and touched him, would his skin feel like marble, and an imagined draft of air had prickled your skin.

You’d known he wouldn’t back down once he’d voiced his ultimatum. Struggling under the burden of keeping those he loved alive and out of harm's way, Dean was doing what he did best by trying his damnedest to push you away, believing you would be safer. So you’d let go of the charged words you’d been ready to hurl back and stared him down, uttering the only words that truly mattered.

“I love you.”

The clench of his jaw—rolling muscle beneath stubbled flesh—the singular movement betrayed his vulnerability. You’d thought your words might be enough, but it only made him double down on his determination. He fired one last shot, then walked away. 

You’d heard him pause in the hallway, hoped his resolve would break, and whispered, “Please don’t leave.” As his strides had grown more distant, you’d stared at the space he left behind. 

Standing in the dimly lit room, you'd waited until your legs ached, finally collapsing into a sobbing heap on the bed to wait a bit longer. Exhausted from the hunt, the argument, and with utter despair draining every conscious thought, you’d eventually fallen into a fitful sleep. Waking with a gasp, you frantically searched the room, but there was no sign that he had returned. 

No missed calls or texts lit up your phone when you checked it. It felt like your heart was pumping sludge through your veins, then anger flared, flushing everything loose. How could he leave like that? Say those things to you and then walk out without a backward glance? It didn’t matter that you knew why he did it. The outrage over his callous words ignited a fire in your heart that seared its way through your emotional cortex. 

Debating whether it was best to wait and confront him when he finally returned or give each other some time, you finally shoved a few items of clothing in a bag, figuring you’d be back in a day or two once the dust settled. 

The first step across the bedroom’s threshold felt like stepping off a cliff, a point of no return. As you’d dragged yourself through the bunker, hope had kept you moving forward. Hope that he would be in the garage, sitting in the Impala. You wouldn’t have cared if the fight continued. You’d just wanted to see him there.

When you’d found Baby’s spot empty, muscle memory had been the only thing that kept you upright. Residual shock kept the emotions at bay until you hit the Nebraska state line. You’d found a liquor store and then a motel. Cried, drank, rehashed, dissected every detail that you should have done differently, drank some more, cried again, then drank until your tears were laced with alcohol. 

You knew Dean was afraid of losing someone else he loved, and he did love you. It had been there behind the cold stare and harsh words. He wouldn’t have believed you had forgiven him before he even walked out of the room, but you had. 

Your bout of anger did not negate that forgiveness, knowing that the extreme harshness of his words was proportionate to the feelings he held for you. You hadn’t chased after him for the same reason you had stopped arguing. As much as it hurt, anger and betrayal bleeding through every pore, you’d known there was no point. In that moment, Dean had decided on a course of action and would remain firm. He believed what he was doing would somehow protect you from a hunter’s end, deflect the chaos and darkness of this life, save you… from him.

On the fifth day of radio silence, having eaten nothing but a couple of packages of stale vending machine fare, you’d finally taken a shower, dragged ass to the nearest food source, drank an entire pot of coffee, and downed a huge helping of the greasiest food you could order. After puking up everything you had consumed, you’d ordered a coffee and two bottles of water to go.

You’d believed that regret, guilt… love would somehow, for once, win out over his innate stubbornness, and he would eventually call to apologize. You had been wrong. 

You’d lost count of how many times you’d stopped yourself from calling or texting. You’d rationalized that he needed more time, that if you tried to contact him too soon, you would only make things worse. Deciding it was best to give him space to work through the wealth of emotions you knew he’d be wrestling with, no matter how painful it was for you. So you hauled yourself north, away from the only true home you’d known in years… away from the tormented despair… away from him.

Now you have to face the consequences of your decision. He’s moving on, adjusting to a life without you, and, according to rumors confirmed by a reputable source, finding solace in the arms of another. In an attempt to save your sanity or a matter of self-preservation, you hadn’t let yourself think about him with someone else. 

It hurts like hell, but the blame lies with you as much, if not more so, than him. You told him you loved him but then abandoned him like so many others. You were just as much at fault for letting the months drag on with no contact, no attempt at reconciliation. Caught up in a new life that you only ever wanted to share with him, you realize you had waited too long. 

Too afraid, too ashamed to contact him.

Part Three

[6lostgirl6]

Could you do poly lost boys with a fem mate that’s a detective? Like the boys are a little on edge about it because obviously she’s investigating the missing persons and murders, but they also want to help her out and they keep eating criminals and eventually she figures out what’s going on and they have to tell her

Murder, She Wrote

Poly!Lost Boys x Detective Fem!Reader

TW: Brief Mention of Gore, Murder, Dead Bodies 

It has been months since you arrived in Santa Carla to investigate the multiple murders. Officially, many of the victims were considered still missing, their posters still stung up around the town and boardwalk. However, it was known that after a 48 hour period, likelihood of finding those victims were majorly reduced. With the count of missing people and barely any bodies showing up, it was clear that an investigation needed to be established in the community. Therefore, you were sent to investigate and with your record, you were pretty damn good at your job.

The most recent missing person was a woman named Alyssa Shrouder. However, during your investigation, you have come to understand that her cause of disappearance wasn’t because she ran away, like her parents suggested, but she was murdered. Last month, her body had been found in an alleyway, a place that not very many ventured, but you surely did. She was clearly killed and your next course of action was to discover her killer and bring him to justice. Within that time frame, you discovered something entirely different. A group of fashionably-dressed punks that rode motorcycles and loved causing trouble. It wasn’t until a month later that you were in a committed relationship with them. Whenever you were off duty from investigating, you were spending time with your new boyfriends, but not tonight. You still haven’t told them your occupation…or your temporary stay in Santa Carla. 

Another body was discovered and you were called to the scene, quickly leaving everything behind to find out what has been discovered. Despite your keen eye, you were unable to witness your four boyfriends hanging by your roof, waiting for the opportunity to sneak into your home while you were away. Now was the time to strike. 

Marko watched as you drove off in your vehicle, taking off down the street until your lights disappeared in the darkness. Then, he motioned to the others and flew to your window, checking to see if it was unlocked. Paul hovered next to him, a wicked smile on his face, Dwayne and David floating behind him. 

“Gotcha!” Marko exclaimed, pulling the window up, the sound of creaking wood breaking the silence before Marko climbed inside. 

“Sweet, man!” Paul replied, crawling into your bedroom after Marko with the other two following along. 

David let a hiss slip through as he climbed in, “Try not to be so loud, I don’t want her neighbors thinking someone broke in.”

“We broke in.” Dwayne replied, chuckling low as he moved towards your bed, “It’s not like they would file a false report.” 

“Just look around.” David rolled his eyes before making his way around the bedroom, checking through your things as he did. Marko walked towards the closet to check through there while Paul decided to check out your bathroom. Dwayne stayed where he was on the bed, messing with one of your smaller pillows that held your scent. 

It has been months since the boys began dating you, taking the time to learn and understand how their mate operated. However, they began to notice that there were instances where you couldn’t arrive at certain times with an excuse that you were busy and lost track of time. David wasn’t opposed to his abilities to figure it out. But, Marko thought it would be a better idea to instead sneak throughout your residence and discover what you were doing themselves. 

After a while, Paul was standing in the living room where he found stacks of paperwork and some photographs. He blinked before making his way over, curious to know what you were working on and if that was the reason you couldn’t spend as much time with them. Were you a college student? He fiddled through the paperwork, noticing it was full of reports and side notes on…leads? He couldn’t understand some of the words. He placed them back where they were before looking through the photos. But from what he could gather, you were definitely not a college student. 

“Uh…” His eyes widened before he called for the others, his voice wavering as he stared at the pictures. “You guys might need to see this!” David was the first to arrive next to him, standing to his left while Dwayne moved to his right, Marko taking up the space beside David. 

“Shit.” David said, taking the photos and looking through them as Dwayne silently picked up the paperwork to look through. “This isn’t good.”

They finally understood your occupation and how much time it was taking you away from them, the paperwork and photographs crystal clear. In the photos were some of their victims when they would go out to feed, the bodies that they didn’t bother properly disposing of since meeting their mate. David was immediately upset and forced himself not to completely destroy everything that was in their hands. 

Marko was biting his glove, his nerves eating away at him as he thought about what would happen if you discovered what they were and the brutal killers that they are. He glanced through the photos that David was still looking through before his brows furrowed,

“Wait,” He pointed at one of the photos, “That’s not one of ours.” He said, catching the attention of everyone else as they also looked at the picture that David pulled out. 

It was a woman by the name of Alyssa according to your documentation and she went missing a few months before you moved to Santa Carla. Dwayne nodded as he pulled up the report and pointed at something, “She was murdered, body found by the alley far from the boardwalk.” 

“So we aren't the only brutal killers.” Paul joked, lightly shoving Marko as the smaller male gave him a wicked smile. “Maybe we should recruit them.” 

“Don’t you idiots see the point?” David glared at them, his patience slipping immensely. “Our mate is hunting them, a fucking killer that murdered a woman prior. See where I’m going with this?”

Paul needed a second for his brain to catch up before he finally connected the dots. “(Y/N) could get hurt!” He said, eyes widening as he took a moment to process the mere thought of it. 

Marko’s eyes flashed their monstrous gold before he said the thing that everyone else was too afraid to bring up, “She could be killed.” 

The room was filled with growls that threatened to shake the entire house, walls seeming to vibrate from the extremity of their rage. David placed down the photographs before he could damage them, he didn’t want to ruin your process and decided to lean against the wall instead. 

“Unless…” Dwayne continued looking through the documentation, “We catch them before she does.” He smirked, glancing at the others as their own wicked smiles made their appearance. 

Looks like they were going to be hunting tonight after all. 

_________________

Another body has turned up and it was uncovered that it was the murderer of Alyssa Shrouder. Essentially, you have found the individual responsible for the person you were investigating. It had taken an entire month for him to be unveiled but it wasn’t from your own hand, you couldn’t bring him to justice. Marcus Griffin, he was found underneath the boardwalk with his throat ripped out and intestines spilling along the beach, blood almost completely drained while the rest coated the cool sand. You may not have caught him yourself, but from someone else. 

You stood there, writing in your notepad as one of the officers recalled the supposed events or lack thereof. There were no witnesses that could properly discuss with you what they saw. The person that did this knew how to keep out of sight, brutally kill them, and dump their body to be found without leaving a trace of evidence. It was frustrating, being so close to being finished while having to now work on another case. 

After taking some notes, you thanked the officer as he walked off to talk to his other partners. You placed your hands inside the pockets of your coat, the wind picking up and making the weather colder than it already was. 

After a moment, you started to feel a little off. Almost as if…there were eyes on you. Your own gaze led you towards the boardwalk and that’s when you saw your boys. Only, they didn’t seem to be your boys. They stood on the boardwalk near their bikes, watching you intently, still as statues as they took you in as much as you did. 

You blinked, looking away for a second before you turned back, hoping to see if you could talk to them about what was going on. However, they were gone without a trace. You stood there a little bewildered, how were they able to disappear so quickly and quietly despite only having one way of transportation that would have easily caught your attention. 

You pondered for a moment before looking towards the body once more. In your field, you were renowned, skilled in your profession with the ability to see signs and evidence without it being visibly seen. You were highly recommended and you now understood why. You glanced towards the boardwalk once more before making your way up the stairs. You needed to have a little chat. 

_________________

You stood there, watching as the boys shuffled where they were standing. After finally catching them on the boardwalk after a few nights trying to find them, you were finally ready to talk about what you needed clarity on. Your intuition was never wrong, but you were sincerely hoping that it was this time. When you caught up to them on the boardwalk, they only agreed to talk to you somewhere private, taking you on their bikes towards their ‘home’, a cave that was practically threatening to go through another breakdown as it did many decades ago. 

You stood in the middle, watching as David took his place in front of you, the others following but keeping themselves slightly behind him, wanting him to do most of the talking as usual. You decided to break the awkward silence.

“The body that was found under the boardwalk, was it because of you?” You asked, watching as they all glanced at one another, however David could only watch you. They didn’t want to lie to you, you were their mate, but they didn’t want to scare you off either. Honestly, they were terrified, they didn’t understand how you knew it was them so quickly. 

“Yeah, it was.” David replied, putting his hands in the pockets of his coat to give himself some ground, “but we had the best intentions.” 

You crossed your arms as you tried to process what you just heard. Your own boyfriends were murderers and they didn't seem to feel that much guilt over it. You had a pretty good feeling that they have been doing this for a while. How many more people have they hurt? Were they any of yours that you were investigating?

“Many of yours were from our own doing.” David answered for you, watching as your eyes widened from having not asked those questions yet. “We have no choice and you will need to accept it as is.” 

Paul decided to jump in, not wanting David to make things worse, “Babe, we really had the best intentions. You could have been killed!”

“Yeah!” Marko replied, “Babe, that guy was a killer and he could have hurt you before you could have caught him.” 

You sighed and sat down on one of the couches near you, “That still doesn’t matter, it was my job to take care of it and you decided to do it without consulting me, especially through killing!” Before they could respond, you continued, “How did you know what I was thinking?” You said, looking towards David.

Dwayne sighed, “Because we can.” He glanced at David and gave him a look, it was time to confess and confess everything.

David moved his way over to where you were currently residing, standing near the couch but not actually sitting next to you. “We’re vampires, we kill people in order to survive. We have no choice and we killed that guy because we had a feeling you could have been hurt if we hadn’t jumped in to finish the job for you.” He blinked, showing off a flash of his yellow eyes before they returned to their normal color. 

You stared at him in shock, before glancing towards the floor practically made of dirt. Your mind couldn’t process the fact that they were indeed murderers but they were also creatures that were meant as legends, fairytales, and stories to scare children. You glanced back towards them. 

“Why me? Why do all this for me? We’ve barely started dating?” You asked, confused on why they would go through all this trouble for someone like you. 

Dwayne sat next to you, placing a hand on your knee as he silently watched you. Paul and Marko moved closer and it was only Marko that decided to speak up, 

“Cause you’re our mate. We did what anyone would have done.”

“...What?”

[gleefullypolin]

Dating Lady Whistledown by GleefullyPolin

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57046732/chapters/145081255

Summary: Eloise always thought that her idiot brother was merely a distraction for their shared friend Penelope, always in her ear and never allowing her a moment to venture out on her own. But when Penelope begins online dating and finally meets a man who starts to slowly win her heart, was fate truly at play all along?

Chapter 2: Lonely Traveler

“You can be lonely even when you’re loved by many people since you’re still not anybody’s one and only.” Anne Frank

Colin stared at the sea from his balcony as it hit the shore, crashing into the rocks below as the sun was rising. He took in a breath, inhaling the air as he let his eyes fall closed, his feet tapped the table beneath his toes. He let his eyes slide open and gazed down at the laptop perched against his knees, the curser flashing brightly against the white background of the empty page.

He often wondered how writers block could find someone in a place so beautiful and full of wonders when it should be able to form nouns, verbs, and adjectives into even the most uneducated of minds. Yet here he sat, Colin Bridgerton, twice published author, unable to form even a simple sentence.

He wanted to call Pen. She would be able to talk him through whatever was plaguing his mind, she was always able to lift the fog that troubled him when his mind clouded him like this. He looked at his phone, realizing that calling her would mean rousing her from a sound sleep. He knew it wouldn’t matter; he had called her like this before. Her timid small voice on the other end of the line always eased his mind as she woke from slumber, he wasn’t sure if that was his favorite Pen sound, but it was easily one of his top five to be sure.

He wasn’t exactly sure when he started ranking Pen sounds, it was probably not appropriate to have a ranking of favorite sounds your best friend made, yet he noticed that he started collecting them sometime in the last three years.

It had started after he had come home from Paris before setting back off for the South of France on another assignment, he had joined one of Eloise and Pen’s movie nights.  They were five hours into a Harry Potter marathon when Eloise gave up and retired to her room, leaving the two of them to continue on their own. Two hours later, Pen was snoring quietly next to him, snuggled into the crook of his arm, her hand nestled under her cheek as she rested on his chest.

His arm was fast asleep, and he was doing everything he could to shake it back awake when she stirred beside him, the smallest sound escaping from her lips. It sounded like a bird he had heard in a rainforest in Brazil during one of his tours. And it was in that moment that he started his list of favorite Pen sounds which he kept etched on his heart.

He picked up the phone and opened his contacts, Pen’s number showing at the top of the list with the red hearts bookending her name. His finger hovered over it until he groaned, clicking instead onto the message he had received last night from his sister.

Helloise: Pen and I are busy tonight. I’m calling dibs!

“Get it together, Bridgerton.” He moaned. He really needed to stop being so co-dependent on his best friend.

Colin should be happy about his life. He traveled to some of the most amazing places in the world, he was able to see things that people would beg to view with their own eyes just once in their lifetime. And then he got to write about them and share that information with the world. Colin knew he was lucky. He was living his dream.

And yet he was plagued with something that was making him physically ill. Something that had him sitting on a balcony with a million-dollar view, a blank page that should be filled with words about a gorgeous city, and yet the only thing he could think about was the one thing he could do nothing about.

Colin Bridgerton was lonely.

It was ridiculous really. It sounded stupid, actually it sounded selfish and spoiled. Rich kid with everything he had ever wanted, crying about loneliness. He knew all he had to do was get out of his room and head to any club in town and he could bring any local he wanted back to his room. It would take nothing for him to attract one of the very gorgeous women he saw on the streets daily. He knew he was an attractive man; he had been blessed with the Bridgerton genes.

Yet, he was tired of meaningless sex that amounted to nothing more than pleasure and beauty. He wanted more. He wanted to know someone’s mind, he wanted to know their wants and dreams. He wanted to know what made a woman tick, what made them smile. Most of all he wanted to know that he was that person’s everything, not just their one-night thing.

He tossed his phone onto the table and laughed loudly. “You’re being a fucking pussy, Bridgerton.” He swore. His brothers would have a field day with him right now. Colin knew he wasn’t like his older brothers. He was always more sensitive than Anthony and he didn’t have Benedict’s free spirit.

Maybe it was the scotch coursing through his veins, or maybe it was the influence of the ethereal orange sunset tonight, but Colin decided he was done bringing gorgeous nameless women back to his room in random cities, it wasn’t going to bring him intimacy. It wasn’t going to bring him warmth and it sure as hell wasn’t going to cure his emotional loneliness.

He focused back on his laptop and closed the blank document that was continuing to taunt him. He opened up his browser and tapped his fingers against his keyboard.

“Ok internet, how do you cure loneliness?” He punched his question into the google search, shaking his head in disbelief that he was even doing this exercise. The entire thing was idiotic.

He was overwhelmed with all the results, most of them referring him to some sort of mental help or therapy. The fact he was even searching this up sure felt like he needed therapy, but maybe he was searching for the wrong thing. He deleted his search and tried again.

“Ok, let’s try, lonely people looking to...” well shit, what was he looking to do? He didn’t want to hook up with someone. He could do that right where he was in the city without the need of an internet search. Besides, he could download Tinder for that honestly. He didn’t want some girl falling over him because of his Bridgerton name either, or his looks. He just wanted to connect with someone emotionally, something that could rely on his anonymity.

He deleted his search again. “Lonely people looking to chat. Maybe?” he inquired to himself with a chuckle as he clicked enter. Another overwhelming search result popped up onto the screen. He bit his lip as he thought about what he wanted. “Loney writers looking to chat.” He smiled at himself and clicked enter. The smile grew bigger as he saw the first result that popped up. Finally, something that made sense.

LonelyTraveler has entered the chat

He looked at the server set up in front of him and quickly found the list of channels to find the one where he could make his introduction. He settled into his chair and thought about what he wanted to say. Did he want to be honest? He didn’t exactly want to say he was Colin Bridgerton; he was purposely wanting to avoid advertising his family name and wealth. Perhaps being vague would be more advisable for the time being.

LonelyTraveler: Hello everyone, I’m LT, a male in my mid 20’s, currently traveling the world working on a novel, though I’m sure that doesn’t make me very special around here so I guess that shouldn’t have been the first thing I brought up. I suppose I’m here because it’s hard to connect to people when you don’t stay in one place for a long time so I figured I’d try this out but now that I’m typing all of this out it sounds really stupid so, I might delete later, who knows. So yeah, hi!

Colin read his intro four times before simply giving up and hitting enter, deciding this was the stupidest decision he had ever made in his life. He was never going to tell another soul about this for as long as he lived.

He scanned through the introduction channel to see if there was anyone interesting that stood out to him.

SexOnThePage: Simone, 25, I’ll cut right to it; I’m looking for someone who wants to get busy with a sexy sentence all night long.

Way too honest, Colin skipped on, that felt way too pointed and forward for what he was looking for.

TimidRomantic: I’m Chrissy, 23, Looking for a bad romance? Let’s write one together, I’m usually quiet and shy but I’m looking for someone to take me out of my shell. Maybe I just need a good spanking or a...

Shit, that did not feel timid or romantic at all. Colin quickly skimmed over some of the other entries in the channel, but he was starting to feel like maybe this was a really bad fucking idea. And then he stopped.

LadyWhistledown: Dearest Gentle Reader, or I guess Discord reader? I’m LW, female, in my 20’s, and honestly, I’m only here because my friend won’t get off my back about me putting myself out there and meeting people. So here I am! I hope you are glad to meet me! I fancy myself a writer, but I have yet to actually finish anything, but I’m working on it. Just looking to chat or connect or whatever it is you do on this thing, honestly, I have no idea what people do here? Some of you guys are kind of scary and intimidating honestly! So yeah, maybe say hi, I guess!

Colin found himself comforted knowing that there was someone else on this site that seemed to be just as uncomfortable as he was. He clicked into her intro and decided to reply to her.

LonelyTraveler: Happy to know I’m not the only one here who is feeling perhaps a little terrified of what I’m doing here and maybe a little intimidated? I guess we are both Discord Virgins? Or maybe even Extra Virgin? However, let me be the first to tell you I am glad to meet you and to maybe not feel so alone here.

He shut his laptop and pushed his chair away from the table. This was a stupid idea. He should have just called Pen. She would have known what to say to him, would have at least given him a reason to smile instead of leaving him to lie in his bed staring at the ceiling with a frown on his face, an ache sitting in his chest that clearly wasn’t going away. His phone lit up on his nightstand and he pulled it against his chest before finally opening it to read his notification.

<3 Pen <3: Good morning! Just got up and wanted to make sure you don’t forget to send me that chapter before this weekend. You seemed tired yesterday, you sure you’re ok? Anyway, call me later! Ignore what El said, you know you’re my favorite person to talk to! <3

Colin smiled at his phone, all it took was a text from Pen and he already felt better. So much for not being co-dependent.

[sylvies-chen]

after seeing a tweet about season 2 coming out I thought now would be a good time start The Bear to fulfill my need to have seen every single show in existence! I’ve only seen the first 5 episodes so far but here are my thoughts:

it seems everyone in this show except marcus (he’s just in the corner perfecting his lil donuts!! leave him in peace!!) teeters so beautifully on being absolutely detestable. some *cough cough richie cough cough* do venture into unlikeable territory but then when they do, the writers bring in a scene that instantly gives them an extra layer and shifts you towards empathy. it’s a really delicate balance but so far it’s working for me!

this is, at its core, a show about how to go about taking pieces of something broken and turning them into something better and beautiful, revamping it without discarding its true nature— and this is true in both the inwards sense, relating to carmy’s (and sugar’s and richie’s) grief and mental health in learning how to move on from a tragic loss but not forget your past pain, and then in the outwards sense as well regarding to the restaurant and the Chicago community, how to make a successful restaurant without forgetting the people they serve, how to not be a gunslingin’ dive but also not a gentrifying posh joint.

speaking of that internal turmoil though, I’m absolutely lovinggggg the bear motif and it fits perfectly with this idea! it’s like carmy has so much bottled up inside him, both good and bad, like his passion to change the restaurant mikey left him but also his pain and grief and sorrow, and him trying to let the bear out of the cage and slowly tame it or control it in his dreams is very reminiscent of someone trying to get a hold on their own psyche. but it’s like. no dude. you gotta let it all out, let it go wild! both the pain and the ambition! it will let you be more loving, be healed, and be a better leader! gosh, it’s so so good.

JON BERNTHAL IS IN THIS?? Oh wait I think I vaguely remember @levijeanqueen watching this show just to see Jon Bernthal on her screen. sky babe this is me formally saying that I should have followed in your footsteps sooner omg I love this

richie gives me whiplash because he starts crying about his kid and I wanna give him a hug and tell him he’s a good dad but then he yells at syd and I get filled with rage and then he calls the cops on the mobsters when someone else solves the problem he couldn’t because he can’t stand not being needed and then anti-hero by taylor swift starts playing in my head because it’s him hi he’s the problem and what do you mean he accidentally drugged children with xanex i-

sydney is my GIRL y’all!! she has such a passionate, eager spirit about her that she can’t hold in and yet she also lacks confidence in a lot of ways and like. she is me!! I am her!! I kin this woman so hard. (that’s actually my first time using that word I hope I did it right lol). I’m so obsessed with everything she does, I can’t wait to see her grow and evolve as a chef, and to gain more confidence! also I need to learn more about her backstory right tf now like what was that catering business?? what’s her family like??

I don’t know where people are shipwise with this show?? it’s not a show that offers a lot of substantial material on that front but shipping is so much more fun when you have zero expectations and can kind of just go with the flow and take your own creative liberties so I like having fun with it. anyways I definitely feel a certain vibe with carmy and sydney but also marcus is so outwardly sweet to her when no one else is so I’m not mad about that either.

I think carmy and syd are like… two side of the same coin? they’re not the most alike but they’re not polar opposites either, they’re very much foils of each other and they each are the parts of the other that the other wishes they were. like sydney very openly wants to be skilled like carmy (she’s skilled on her own ways though might I add) and be a fearless chef and innovator, and carmy I think less-openly wishes he was like sydney: new, fresh, eager, not beaten down by the verbal degradation of high-end culinary culture, hopeful about the world and creative. I really like that sort of connection between two characters, it kind of alludes to a deeper idea that this bond was meant to be in a way? their chemistry is fucking fire too like wow

but then there’s marcus and sydney, which I think is cute because marcus has that sort of fun experimental eager green energy that sydney has and that many others (like tina and richie) have discarded or snuffed out, so I think he could be like a nice bright spot for sydney. idk. I need to know like a million more things about her character as well, she deserves all the screentime in the world. but in the meantime I’m just chilling, enjoying the little itty bitty crumbs that let me have my fun lol

anyways I’m sorry if that was too long for you lovely folks but I hope it was a worthy interruption to your regularly scheduled tumblr scrolling because I really love this show and I can’t wait to finish these last two episodes before moving on to this new season!!

[keyh0use]

Kinktober Day 8: Knife Kink

Blood, cuts, witchcraft, mentions of death, anal sex

Rafe was always odd.

But when Ward Cameron died suddenly and violently, it pushed the boy over the edge of insanity in a way no one could have predicted.

Tanneyhill was willingly signed over to Rose, where she paid little attention to the youngest sibling and let Sarah play Pogue with John B. at the new-and-improved Chateau, none the wiser to what any of them got up to.

And Rafe? Rafe had money.

Money that was put into buying an old, dilapidated cottage in the deep of the forest, far from the towns people who turned fearful eyes on him.

Which Barry only discovered after hunting down Sarah and learning she, too, had no idea where her brother lived. So the older man started hanging around local spots frequented by kooks until one fateful day Topper walked out of the country club with Rafe under his arm and well, twenty-five minutes later Barry was following the unsuspecting boy into the woods like a fucking stalker.

The house—if it could be called that—loomed with slanted peaks, moss and mushrooms making a home on the damp wooden siding and flower potted windowsills.

When Barry worked up the courage to knock instead of staring in slightly frightened awe, the heavy front door creaked open to reveal Rafe, looking healthy but undeniably sad still.

Rafe had stepped aside without question, a silent invitation into the warmly lit room which the older man gratefully accepted. That first evening spent in eachothers presence was nothing like their relationship before, more reserved and respectful now.

As it went, Rafe never talked much. There were no more manic ramblings or whiny scheming or sobbing fests. And there was absolutely no more substances.

Instead, when Rafe felt overwhelmed or bored or too much of anything, he would venture out into the trees and return with an armful of natural materials, retiring to the kitchen to crush them into fine powders before dispensing them into tiny bottles. Colourful jars were everywhere, on any available surface, labels sprawled with tongue-twisters.

Barry never understood what the fuck the boy was up to and didn't bother asking, either. Whatever it was, Rafe was content and busy and that was enough. Barry's only need was to support his friend—or whatever Rafe was to him.

That's how it became a routine to finish up work at the garage and end up on a small hike to the hidden home, red ribbons tied around twisting branches marking the trail for him to follow.

Eventually it was acceptable to let himself in while Rafe was out frolicking, and Barry would tidy up or read, promptly ignoring a large pentagram made of twigs and wax on the kitchen table.

And Barry wasn't an idiot, despite the appearance he kept up. It was a bad idea to go off into the forest at night unarmed and alone, but the trailer was so cold and lonely these days, so he made the rough trek, let himself in and crawled right into bed beside the slumbering boy and come morning, neither of them mentioned it.

Rafe always welcomed the older man in with open arms, arguably showing more hospitality than Barry deserved given how many times he turned the kook away in times of need before.

But this was now, and here in the now, Barry had a place amongst mismatched quilts and dried herbs hanging overhead and a crackling fire.

Their relationship changed with the seasons, growing warmer and softer, until Rafe's head found Barry's chest instead of the pillows every night.

Barry would chop firewood and Rafe would cook the most delicious meals he's ever tasted, they would sit in the glow of the fireplace and eat, feeling full and appreciated and happy.

And then the older man fucked up.

Dealing wasn't his main source of income and Rafe was clean—inadvertently so was Barry—which meant drugs stayed far away from their safe space.

Someone knew that, someone took advantage of that, and when Barry went after that someone, he was outnumbered.

That night when he finally stumbled into the cottage—and into his boys embrace—something changed in those soft blue eyes.

Though he never said it, Rafe was furious. Careful hands shaking while Barry recounted the story, bloody rag strangled between slender fingers as he tried desperately to school his expression.

For the first time, Rafe held Barry in bed and when the older man was fading into sleep, he heard a promise: I'll fix this, Barry, alright? I'll get him.

That morning Barry woke alone in the soft bed and found Rafe down by the sloughy edge of a bog, burying what looked to be a handmade doll, not that he had much time to pay attention.

After shrugging on a jacket and leaning down to kiss a concentrated Rafe on the forehead, Barry went on his way.

A boating accident. The staticky radio filled the concrete room with the story, two of Barry's co-workers stopping in their tracks to listen as the station recounted what happened to the asshole who beat him up not even 24 hours prior.

What a tragedy, the newscaster said, such a young life lost.

Barry knew it was Rafe's doing.

Like a couple months ago when he got a sudden promotion after years of thankless servitude. Like that time his old beat up truck miraculously started running fine again. Or like a week ago when he ate something off and after telling his boy, the illness mysteriously cleared up.

And now this.

It should send terror down his spine but it doesn't. Barry feels...he feels powerful.

That would be the first night they kissed. Barry's heart pounded in time with his footsteps all the way home only to shove the door open with a noisy creak, crossing the room to where Rafe stood still in confusion, a bowl of garden salad in his hands.

Barry kissed Rafe, and didn't stop kissing him until they fell asleep from exhaustion, uneaten dinner long forgotten and one side of the mattress soaked.

Weeks faded into months into a year, and their life together was really their life together, everything balanced and split perfectly.

"Are you gonna kill me?" asks Barry for the third time since leaving the comfort of their home, face scrunched up as bugs wizz by.

The boy mumbles, "I said no," for the third time, squeezing Barry's hand in reassurance.

"Then where you takin' me? And why the hell we gotta go there tonight?" Barry puts up with a lot of shit without raising questions, content to live with all the strange books with frightening imagery and sloshing jars labelled weird shit like bat blood or graveyard dirt and literal fucking skulls littered about on display but wandering around at night through the forest might be where he finally draws the line.

Rafe turns on him then, dragging momentarily paused in favour of pulling the older man close, wrapped up in the kooks all-encompassing embrace. "I love you," confesses Rafe. And before Barry can squeak out a response, he continues with, "I can't lose you too, alright? So please, Barry, please—it has to be tonight." "Yeah," mutters the older man with a subtle nod, heart beating wildly in his chest. "Yeah, okay...alright, lead the way." And Rafe pulls away and starts walking, a dazed Barry following behind with a frown etched into his handsome face, cursing himself for not saying I love you back.

Guilt weighs on Barry the whole journey; as they weave through twisted branches and ascend a steep incline, hand in hand as Rafe's words play over and over in his head. At the top is a small clearing, but Barry's so overcome with annoyance at himself it's hard to register what he's seeing right away. A thick blanket of darkness surrounds the circle, trees blocking their view besides the one overhead, deep blue sky starless. A hefty slab lies in the middle of the barren ground, grey and carved with symbols. Barry opens his mouth to speak but Rafe beats him to it, ordering firmly, "Take your clothes off." "Uh, what?" "Barry," pleads the boy, looking frantically skyward. "Please, I—"

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can stop them. "You gonna hurt me, country club?" Barry chews on his bottom lip anxiously, trying to make sense of the scene fit for sacrifice laid out before him. His question is met with silence so he asks more specifically, for the fourth time, "You gonna kill me?" "No," comes Rafe's immediate answer, brows furrowed at the accusation. "No, I love you." "Aight..." Then, like an idiot, Barry remembers to say, "I l—"

But Rafe is on him before he has a chance to finish, thin fabric of the older man's shirt grasped in a desperate hand as it tears up the middle, the ghost of a touch scraping over his abdomen—Rafe's holding something. Something black and sharp. A knife, Barry registers with a shutter.

It's unusual in appearance, carved stone instead of metal and solid in colour, having no reflection from the moonlight creeping in overhead. "No time," Rafe mumbles, tattered shirt falling to the forest floor. "Take them off now, please—" "Okay, okay, baby," the dealer whispers soothingly, so fucking confused and so fucking turned on by the sharp point of the knife digging into the hard flesh of his belly. Shoving down black sweatpants and boxers, Barry steps out of them and stands completely nude, shifting uncomfortably under the heavy blue stare. "Now what?" Rafe nods at the slab and says, "Lay down." A shiver runs down the older mans spine when he asks uncertainly, "Rafe?" "Why won't you listen?" whines Rafe, shoving at Barry's chest until he stumbles back a step. "Lay down, lay down, now!" "Fuck," huffs out Barry with a roll of his shoulders, moving the next few feet back to sit on the cold stone before doing as told and lying back.

Barry doesn't know what the fuck they're doing and it's only mildly concerning. On one hand, he trusts his boy and has confidence in his fighting abilities anyway, if need be. On the other, Rafe has a weapon and knows these woods like the back of his hand.

But then Rafe yanks off his own shirt, and, well—Barry's a simple man.

"Please tell me whatever this shit is ends with you riding my cock?" Barry jokes. His cheeks flush when Rafe gives him a soft smile while sharpening the blade on the edge of the stone.

Rafe moves forward until he can straddle his man's hips, having kicked off his own pajama pants. He sits down firmly on Barry's stiff prick, wedged perfectly between his ass—like a promise if the older man behaves.

The breeze is cool and damp, the slab beneath him freezing and jagged but Barry's hard nonetheless, enchanted by the sight of Rafe over him with a fucking dagger.

"Stay still," the kook whispers softly, bringing the sharpened point to Barry's thundering heart.

"No, wait," he replies in a panic. "Just tell me—"

Rafe cuts in with, "There's no time, I have to do it now!"

"Do what?" Barry pleadingly asks.

"Just..." with a sigh, the boy explains, "Just a little cut, I promise, okay? Like this." Rafe demonstrates by dragging the black tip in six jagged lines, hand steady and sure. "Okay? That okay?" 

A beat, then, "Deep?" 

"Enough to scar," answers the boy. "I'll be fast."

This is insane, Barry thinks. And it is. He doesn't even know what the boy is trying to do, yet here he is, giving a nod of consent to having his body permanently marked.

Rafe is true to his word, every slice is done with a quick flick of the wrist, like he's been practicing. Blue eyes stay trained on the lines he's carving, sucking his bottom lip in concentration.

Barry's skin splits again and again, blood oozing out of the fine gashes and pooling on his broad chest, glistening in the night. Jaws lock and teeth clench, and he keeps both hands fisted at his sides, staying as perfectly still as possible despite the head-reeling rush of adrenaline.

Is this some sort of pact with the devil? Was Rafe lying about him not being a sacrifice? Maybe this was just some fucked up way of breaking up?

Rivets of red drip down over his ribcage onto the freezing slab, sticking to Barry's biceps and leaking under his back, staining the stone and his skin.

It's messy and gross, sting prevalent and constant.

And then there's no warning. No warmup or communication.

Rafe sits up higher on his knees and reaches back to grab Barry's throbbing cock by the base, and sinks down in one long, fluid motion.

The rock digs into Barry's skull when he arches in shock, chest expanding in a heave that has fresh blood seeping out and he hisses "fuck," rather violently.

Rafe really came prepared for everything.

Settling down into the older man's lap, Rafe spreads open palms over Barry's flexing pecs and begins to rock, giving neither of them time to adjust.

Barry's head is swimming. He feels high and grounded, completely here with Rafe but also floating somewhere else, stomach tensing under the sudden surge of pleasure.

The stone is cold and Rafe is warm, on top and around him, squeezing his dick perfectly. Barry recalls the first time, how he felt like they fit like they were made for eachother, that feeling never faded.

Barry watches through hooded eyes as the reflectionless knife is brought up to Rafe's pretty lips, and then the boy is licking across the length slowly, swallowing Barry's taste as he cranes his neck to look at the sky.

The moon was passing over them lazily, bluish-white light casting over the small clearing and bathing them in it.

"Beautiful," gasps Barry, rough hands helping to bounce the boy on his lap.

Ever since the Cameron patriarch passed, Barry's been convinced Rafe's only real source of happiness is him. There hasn't been a single time the kook has laughed unless it was Barry telling a joke. On the winding journey to the cottage, the older man will veer off path to pick a bundle of wild flowers and Rafe will tilt his chin down to hide a blush while accepting them or Barry will catch a grin aimed at him while trying to concentrate on candle making, something of a date the two of them do every couple weeks.

But right now, Rafe wears a brilliant smile. His teeth are tinted red and sweat collects on his upper lip but he looks so happy—so free.

Rafe's silhouette beneath the hanging moon has Barry's breath catching, fingers flexing around sharp hips. The boy says something that doesn't sound like it's meant to be understood by the older man, and he repeats it over and over as their bodies move frantically together.

Heat pools in Barry's belly and with one hand, he yanks the kook down by the back of the neck to seal their lips together, tasting copper.

It's unlike Rafe to take the lead when Barry's around, and never in the bedroom but it's him who licks into the older man's mouth and who is setting the pace.

The edge of the blade slides back and forth along the underside of Barry's jaw when Rafe's hands close around his throat affectionately, pouring so much love into eachother even as the older man thrusts up wildly.

They come together, Rafe between their bellies and Barry deep inside him, clutching at one another's body while gasping.

It's like the surrounding wildlife suddenly explodes around them, cawing and chirping and growling, too. Every sense is heightened while riding the seemingly endless high.

"I love you," Barry blurts out against bruised lips.

A breeze sends tornados of dead leaves whirling around the circle and the moon shines blindingly bright, and Barry's filled to the brim with warmth.

Again, louder, "I love you, Rafe."

"Yeah," croaks the boy, blinking rapidly. "I love you, too."

Like that night after the attack, Rafe cleans Barry's wounds with careful hands, pressing gentle kisses over the bandages.

Barry still doesn't understand. Not really. Hasn't a single clue why Rafe turned to this scary shit in the first place, why he gave up his whole life as a young socialite to wander around gathering plants or why he spends every night in the older man's company, reading side by side in their cozy bed like they're married or some shit.

Barry doesn't understand—doesn't need to, either.

At the end of the day they're happy here, in the quiet life they've carefully crafted in the overgrown woodlands. It's enough for them.

[yesterdayiwrote]

Hi Emma,

I’ve been trying to put this train of thoughts for down for quite some time, not sure if it will make any sense or not. But I wanted to put it out there in some form, because every single time a new chapter gets added up, the less the whole convo makes sense.

I get if you won’t want to publish this.

I have read a few of the latest anons and followed Lewis’ business and no-business ventures for quite some time now, mostly because I got across them on socials, and I ended up forming my own ideas on Lewis, but they are a bit controversial, so we will leave those out, for today.

From Lewis’ himself and people we can trust enough’ words (George’s as well), it’s kind of evident that Lewis (as many people in the show business have) has a private persona that is very much different to the one he quite carefully presents to the public.

Lewis’ name is a brand, and like many brands is worth millions, reason why there is lots of engineering behind the scenes about the events he shows up at, the sponsors and other brands that work with him and, mostly, the people that he associates himself with (in public).

His social medias have been wiped out in recent times (after he received his Title from the Royal Family) and rebuilt to present him in a certain way, a more private and watered down figure than what he’s been in his rebellious party years, if we want to put it that way.

His social medias nowadays are always constructed and filled with activism, business projects, positivity and sponsored events with others high end socialites or even political figures.

Yet there are some kind of discrepancies that sometimes slip through the cracks that kind of make little sense.

Lewis can do whatever he wants in his personal life, the non-public one, but considering how excessively careful he always is with his perceived reputation, there are things like the Antarctica trip that always catch you by surprise when they happen

It’s clear that Lewis has a wilder side and probably a rather controversial one, so certain kind of associations are not that unexpected of him.

It’s the way they are treated by his PR team and by himself that clash with whatever PR image of him they want to present us (the public) with.

Lewis has been associated or somehow involved (even romantically) with bigger or smaller names for the longest amount of time, so it frankly makes me wonder what is the gain in being associated with so many controversial people, when his PR facade is so well chiselled and preserved.

Of course he can like hanging out with said people, maybe he even likes dating them, but some of them (Juliana) are mostly product placements to generate publicity and clicks/views. So the question now would be, with all those kind of let’s call them IG ‘’models” that are available out there, why would they let Lewis associate with someone as controversial as her.

We can have the longest discussion about this, but how many times Lewis has been pictured officially out and about with her by his side, bar the two NY eve’s events? The point I am trying to make, here, is that you can find someone to scratch your itch without anyone knowing about it ever, there are certain professional figures who are tight lipped way lot more than an IG “model”’under an NDA will ever be.

His PR team and personal entourage certainly can provide one individual with this kind of service, so if Lewis or his entourage keep on associating with those kind of people (influencers, etc), and do the reverse of hiding it (if Lewis wanted to date Juliana in secret, he perfectly could, without anyone knowing a thing about it), pushing the story to the media… means they all have something to gain from it.

Now, with an IG “model”, linking your name with someone like Lewis’ would generate views and cash, but in Lewis’ case… he’d generate lot more rumour by associating with someone like Shakira, rather than Juliana.

So the gain doesn’t seem worth the risk of being spotted with someone as controversial as virtually unknown as her.

Might be overanalyzing, but there has been various instances of Lewis taking the casual L,l with medias, and not in his “romantic” life only. But with the carefully construced persona that he has, and the team around him, I wonder how some slips this big have occurred fairly often, you know.

Very confusing.

You make a lot of interesting points anon, and there's a lot to cover.

I think with anyone in the public eye you've got to remember there's two versions. There's very much the person, and then there's often the persona. There's Lewis Hamilton the human being, but there's also "Lewis Hamilton" the brand and the public figure. For some celebs they're indistinguishable from each other, for others there's a lot more distance between them. With Lewis, I think they're very interchangeable and he flows quite effortlessly between the two. Lewis loves and appreciates his privacy, but he also loves the attention when he chooses.

I think public personas operate a bit like Doctor Who regenerations, and we're on about our 3rd or 4th iteration of "Lewis". We started out with the young f1 rookie who was very serious but taking it all in and could do no wrong. Then we had the burgeoning celebrity phase. Gets a famous girlfriend, starts getting a bit confident, maybe a bit cocksure at times, but starts embracing the limelight and the attention. Then there was the obnoxious asshole phase. People can deny it happened all they want but... it absolutely did. Now we're into his 'reforming' phase. Mellowed out, more in control of his image, more socially aware, really trying to build that GOAT brand and fight back against some of the earlier criticisms of him. His growth stage.

I think people overlook the effect his relationship with Nicole may have had on him. He was very young and very new to the public eye and he was pushed into a very public relationship that I don't think was entirely healthy. It got very messy and I think he was definitely changed by it. He's never had a visible long term relationship since.

It's easy to view everything connected to Lewis through a PR lens and whilst I'm sure his PR people do monitor who he's seen with and who he associates with, they will undoubtedly have to balance that with indulging what Lewis wants to do. He's in the public eye, but he's still a person and a grown adult. They can't wrap him up in cotton wool and save him from himself and his bad choices at the expense of allowing him to be an individual. Its impossible to exist as a human who only ever makes the right choices and we shouldn't expect him to try.

Equally, I think people naively assume that Lewis is above playing PR games, but he absolutely does. When Lewis wants to be private, he manages it highly successfully. He's not stupid. He didn't tell anyone he was going to Africa, he didn't tell anyone about Antarctica, but he told everyone he was going to Brazil this winter break, even though its known to have a pretty effective gossip/paparazzi culture. He said he wanted a latina girlfriend... and who has he been linked to since? I kind of get the impression he's quite happy to be spotted here and with her for whatever reason.

I think people are overanalysing it slightly. She's young and stunning and she has previous with famous people so knows how to play the discretion game for his benefit and hers. Whether it's for real or for show, it works both ways for him. We all know about the problematic stuff because we've looked in to it, most people won't know and won't care, rightly or wrongly. As you say, she's largely unknown. She's only deemed controversial because it's Lewis and the more rabid corners of his fanbase view him as morally pure.

Lewis hangs out with a lot of problematic people and he really doesn't try and hide it. People have a habit of viewing him as entirely unproblematic on an almost Swift-esque level of delusion. Not every questionable thing is a PR misstep, he's capable of fucking up entirely on his own. He's quite clearly a Musk fanboy for example, and he's spoken of his love of him depressingly recently entirely off his own back and I think I personally probably judge him far more harshly for that than anything else right now.

I honestly don't see his public reputation slipping right now, if anything, I think he's probably getting less shit in the press these days than he ever has before, especially in the UK press, probably aided somewhat by the knighthood.

I think people are upset because she's not someone they personally approve of, and I do kind of understand that sentiment. It definitely sucks when you start to question the opinions you've formed about your fave, but that's kind of healthy? I mean genuinely, more people need to criticise and hate on their faves, not in a troll/hateful way, but it's definitely a good thing to take a step back from people you don't know once in a while and go "God, what a dick!". Definitely keeps the fandom a bit healthier! As they used to say "Your fave is problematic".

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies~

Anonymous asked:

Do you watch other adult swim cartons like moral orel or the venture bros?

Not really, sorry :( Nothing against these shows, I guess we just don’t gravitate towards them. Venture Bros was recommended to us though.

Anonymous asked:

"Nooo Ortho wanted to slurp this one" not a problem at all, i don't mind sharing uwu uhuhuhuh sorry for cursing the askbox so soon too XDDD i couldn't help it

Ah it’s so nice when people share… uwu

No worries btw, every single thing in this blog is cursed one way or another, so it really fits xD

Anonymous asked:

No bc the way your fem idia is just insanely body goals

Omg Anon, thank you?? I don’t think if she should be body goals though, she’s kind of too skinny for her height… she just has a high metabolism genetically I guess, I’m pretty sure any other means of achieving her appearance would be unhealthy...

Anonymous asked:

I never thought about ADeuce in the future, but the idea of them being together without really committing to a relationship makes a lot of sense.

I imagine a similar scenario for Ruggie/Leona. They wouldn't even see eachother that frequently, but they still keep in touch and hook up whenever they do meet. They are not just keeping this up because it's beneficial to them, they actually seem to enjoy eachother's company. It's not anything close to dating, and they would never call it love, but I feel like that's the highest level of commitment you can get from either of them. Also Ruggie would probably spend a lot of time working, leaving the Sunset Savanna quite often. If he sees a chance to bag some extra cash he is not going to let a little distance stop him! Meanwhile Leona is just hanging around the royal court. Has he given up on his plan to help the poor people of his country or is he cooking something? Honestly not even Ruggie knows...

(this is related to the 6th reply from this post)

ADeuce really are a bit annoying like that, but I love them for it. Everyone knows you want to be together, guys. You’re just being stubborn for the sake of being stubborn, because you’re too afraid the other party is going to ridicule you for expressing your feelings that both of you are already aware of, because you’ve been sleeping together for years, COME! ON!

Also everything you said about Ruggie/Leona makes sense! Ruggie is too busy and focused on his job(s) to start a family, and Leona is either plotting something or just doing nothing being unmotivated… so whenever they have an opportunity to do so, hooking up sounds logical: why not? It’s definitely not love and not a romantic relationship, but it is a relationship nonetheless… a mutually beneficial one, but also a surprisingly “comfortable” one because both of them are so used to this dynamic that doesn’t require any emotional effort. They’re surprisingly on the same page.

Anonymous asked:

i might have written an OC spanking Riddle once :eyes: usually i just see characters and readers or OCs being spanked by Riddle, but he would be so cute being spanked! teary eyed, confused and flustered, his ass clearly needs attention

(this is related to the 2nd reply from this post)

I know right? For some reason it just works. Maybe it’s because of his backstory and him being so very serious but also so immature, but if you imagine a spanking scenario with Riddle, it’s like… he belongs there lol

Anonymous asked:

About how young was Silver when he and Lilia first started fuckin 🤔 honestly I'm super interested in what those early days would have looked like, and how their first few times would go

Honestly, it depends on whatever route you want to take for any specific post/art/comic/etc, and I feel like with us it’s always a very vague and implied “kind of young”.

We explain it with Lilia having uhh alternative views on parenting, it’s like a mix of him being a fae (turns out, this doesn’t excuse him 😔), him not knowing how children work and him adoring Silver way too much and having too much fun with him. He’s not the best person lol So yeah, Silver was probably way too young to figure out what’s going on, but also this whole thing was a “norm” to him, because it also happened very gradually: the goodnight kisses became more mature, the way they cuddle changed; and with Silver absolutely adoring Lilia, trusting him so much and believing that Lilia only wants what’s best for him, he never had a problem with any of it. Even the first times weren’t too much of a shock to him, especially since Silver considered it to be some special type of training that he really wanted to get good at as soon as possible.

The Zigvolts would’ve been terrified if they found out…….

[nakachuchu]

Into the Woods | Hayakawa Aki

Chapter 12 of the Fairy Tales & Myths series

SYNOPSIS: In a world where people were descendants of folktale characters, there were a number of characters who were unlike the tales in the Book.

READER: female

WORDS: 1.6k

WRITTEN: 03/11/2023

NOTE: This is for @poohbea 's Once Upon a Collab event! I was gonna do a enemies hate sex thing and then it just turned dark. Be warned: Murder is involved!

"Alice," you called out, a bright smile on your face as you floated midair.

Aki ignored you as he usually did.

"Alice," you said again, disappearing for a moment, only to appear in front of him.

He stopped walking forward, a slightly annoyed and displeased expression on his face as you called him by his ancestor's first name.

"What."

"I'm bored," you said. "What are you up to?"

"Going to work. Makima has a mission for me. There are Devils to kill."

"Hmm. Alice so whipped for the Red Queen? How unbecoming of Alice's legacy."

"That was over a century ago. We're not our ancestors," he retorted, moving around you to continue walking.

You rolled your eyes. "Regardless, let me come too."

"You don't work for Public Safety," he retorted as you levitated around him.

Your fingers brushed against his shoulders, trailing to the back of his neck as your tail tapped his hand. He ignored your advances as he crossed the road, watching out for the blind mice and drum frogs.

He hated how much his body craved your touch. He wouldn't have disliked it so much if you weren't so smug, but there was nothing neither he nor you could do about it. Once a Cheshire, always a Cheshire.

You pouted as he ignored you, and with a loud and defeated sigh, you dropped down from the air and landed gently on your feet. You stopped at the end of the crosswalk, watching Aki walk away in the direction of his work.

"Well, I guess it's time I go to work too," you said, turning on your heel to walk in the opposite direction, heading towards The Woods.

The Woods was usually home to woodland creatures and townspeople. Aki worked in Atlantica, where all the technology and safety protocols were. There was nothing special that differentiated the different avenues: The Woods, The Desert Kingdom, Atlantica, Neverland, and more. They all looked the same, but they served different purposes.

To put simply, Aki was in law enforcement and you worked in the entertainment district.

"The Woods?" Aki questioned.

"Yes," said Makima. "Law enforcement have been finding men dead once they leave the Wonderland strip club."

He nodded. "I'll have it done."

As he left her office to head to the Wonderland strip club in The Woods, he couldn't help but worry about you. You were one of the strip club's best strippers and you were in the middle of a what would soon be a bloodbath.

Accordion owls flew by, honking out a lousy tune as they whizzed past Aki.

He watched them, wondering what sort of business venture had brought them to The Woods. The only thing that came to mind was the old saying, The Woods are full of ghosts. Aki pushed the thought away as he approached the strip club where you worked.It was far from run-down. It was newly renovated, enticing residents to sneak a peek at their high end strippers.

The place was packed with people. Tis the season, they said. It was New Year’s Eve and everyone was out to celebrate. Some were drunk, some were on drugs, and some were just looking for a good time.

Aki stopped in his tracks when he saw you working the pole. You were wearing a pair of sheer stockings that showed off your suspenders and a low-cut top that showed off your cleavage.

'This is going to be bad,' he thought to himself. "Really bad," he muttered.

Once you spotted him, you traded spots with a co-worker and made your way to the floor.

"Hey Alice," you said, wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. "Miss me already?"

He stiffened at your embrace, his body telling you how much he missed you. He could feel your breasts press against his chest as you pressed against him. His hands itched at the sleeves of his shirt, longing to feel your skin beneath them. He snapped out of it and cleared his throat, stepping away from your embrace.

"I'm here for work purposes."

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously. There's no way you'd come for entertainment. Do what you must, then. I'm getting back to work."

He nodded, understanding your tone. He needed to concentrate, but it was hard when all sorts of drugs were floating in the air in neon colors and swirls as the air conditioning circulated it around the entire building.

The Caterpillar's drugs were the top selling drug on the market, branded as the Rainbow Worm. When mixed and on its own, it erupted into rainbow smoke.

Aki shook his head slightly and walked around the strip club warily, keeping an eye out for the Devil responsible for the murders.

Then, his eyes gravitated to you again, in the corner of the room with the dark shadows as a man felt you up.

You could handle yourself. You could turn invisible and leave this stranger behind, but you didn't. You enticed him - seduced him - and he followed after you as you walked past a wave of stringed beads above a doorframe.

Aki followed after you, pushing past the beads. The hallway was pounding with lights and dancing mushrooms. People were making out against the walls and groping each other. It was a madhouse. You turned a corner, and by the time Aki caught up, he reached a dead end.

He hated these sketchy, twisted buildings. They were full of traps and secret rooms. There was only a mirror at the end of the corner. There was a smell of musk and vanilla and something else that made his head spin. He stepped closer to the mirror and traced the mirror with his finger before fully pressing his palm against it.

His hand sunk through the mirror and he pushed against it to walk through. He was in another room, a bigger room with a larger mirror. The room was the size of a barn, but it felt claustrophobic. The walls were covered with dark red velvet and there were two large chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling. There were multiple doors that all looked identical, surrounding him.

One door was cracked open. Aki approached it quietly and reached out to open it. When he poked his head through, the light from the room flashed him.

A spinning disco ball was hanging, sparkling and glittering. Particles of light hit certain spots, then disappeared until the disco ball spun back around.

The light splashed against your face as you locked eyes with Aki. His eyes widened as he soaked in the sight of you kneeling by the man from before, covered in blood with a knife held to your throat.

The man was dead. There was no saving him.

"Y/N, what are you doing?"

"It's not her turn," you said.

The voice was you, but something was off. It wasn't your normal tone. Something about the pitch and the inflection was off.

"You're not Y/N."

"I am myself, yet not quite me. I may be false, or I may be free. I'm unique, yet just like the rest. A mirror image, but not quite the best. I'm authentic, yet not quite true. What am I?"

Aki licked his lips. "Madness."

You smiled widely, the corners of your lips stretching far and wide like your ancestor. You withdrew the knife from your throat and stabbed it in the man's body.

Madness was an affliction associated specifically with people who had the blood of Wonderlands. It was a curse passed it down through their families for centuries.

"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I can't control her."

"Y/N," Aki said softly.

He had never seen you like this before. You were usually so strong and wild, but you seemed so broken and meek now. He had never seen you look so vulnerable. He reached out to caress your cheek and you let him. Your skin was hot and soft and he could feel your tears against his skin. You were so small and fragile now.

Now that he knew who was responsible for all those murders, he couldn't just bring you into Public Safety as a criminal.

While he was loyal to the Red Queen, he would never betray you. The two of you used to sleep together in a crib before his parents died. You were best friends in middle school before drifting apart in high school, only to come back in a whirlwind of hot breaths and love bruises.

You were his other half. Madness be damned. He wasn't going to lose you again. He pulled you close and kissed you gently on the lips.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "Everything will be fine."

"How can you be sure?"

But as you looked into his eyes, you knew everything would be fine. The heavy, purple swirls that encompassed his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"I'll take care of the bodies from now on," he said.

The smell of sweet, cloying honeysuckle filled the air after your shower. Aki took you to his apartment in Atlantica after he took care of the body. The two of you sat on the edge of his bed in a comfortable silence. He leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

It was soft and comforting. He felt like home. It had been so long since the two of you could be this comfortable with each other again.

He pulled away from your lips and stared into your eyes. "I'll take care of you from now on."

He meant it. He would make sure you were safe. You were his life now. You were his world.

You smiled.

His smile widened and his eyes crinkled with the corners of his mouth.

"Welcome home, Y/N."

"Welcome back, Aki."