#so im left to muse and reflect on them on my own

[softieacademia]

bittersweet musings

its so sad and so painful.. but i find myself missing life from one, two, three years ago.. i was so so innocent and naive back then and i HATED IT... I wanted to be smart and capable of seeing through everything, i didnt want to be blind and take peoples words at face value because i had been hurt by them so much, i really though being able to see through them would make me stronger... and here i am now... the ability to see through evil words and actions is almost completely mine... and so is despair... that this is my world, that these are my people... that this is where i was born and am to live... that the people around me may look different when i move to a different place but in nature they will remain the same... its so bitter... and so sorrowful.. because when you open your eyes to the realities of this world, you can never close them again... the ability to see through things will never go away now, it will be forever mine...

[euphorajeon]

color you in | jjk

— pairing: boxer!jk x f. reader

— genre: fluff, slight smut | college au, boxer!jk

— word count: 3.1k

— warnings: long-haired, glasses-wearing jk, annoying and bratty oc, (shes just horny im sorry guys), neck kisses, tattoo tour by jk, a bit of past childhood story, all while jk does his coding assignment (again).

— summary: jeongguk just wants to do his coding assignment in peace. you won't let him.

— author's note: i wanted to write about jk's tattoo meaning since he shared such a personal thing with us.. but of course with boxer!gguk's oc.. that would be hard without some spice hahaha T_T tweaked some a bit to fit the non-idol nature of this jk. hope it doesnt take away the real meaning behind his tattoos :) enjoy!

masterlist | boxer!gguk masterlist

It’s ten minutes to six in the evening when you barge into Jeongguk’s bedroom to find him on his desk yet again, typing away at his laptop with glasses perched on his nose. The very same prescription glasses that made heat lick at your insides the last time you were here, a tool for his never-ending tricks of getting you to do what he wants. You’ve meditated after the events of that night to force your brain into thinking that Jeongguk in glasses does not look that hot for you to be drooling every single time, confident that you’ll get over them soon the way you got over his sleeve tattoos. One look at him now proves your efforts pointless, though, as he looks—for lack of a better word—even hotter in his glasses, black t-shirt (it’s not oversized this time!), and even longer hair than the last time you saw him.

How is it possible that you just saw him barely two weeks ago and his hair already reached his chin? (Which, combined with his glasses, makes him look so good you just want to jump him right here, right now—you already said that but whatever. Your boyfriend is hot. Period.)

Instead of saying hi like a normal girlfriend would, you climb into his lap sideways to tear his attention away from the codes on his laptop screen. Jeongguk blinks as he accepts the way your weight settles on his thighs, left arm wrapping around your body to prevent you from tilting backwards. You wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face in the crook of it, denying him of the eye-contact he tries to make.

“Hi…?” Jeongguk tries, the breath from his chuckle tickling the baby hairs on your forehead. “What are you doing here, babe?”

“Your mom let me in,” you mumble, not exactly answering his question.

“Yeah, she must have, I can see,” he muses, hands slowly going back to his keyboard to continue his assignment. “I suppose she didn’t tell you I’m doing my codes which is due tonight?”

“She did,” you hum. “She also told me to remind you to take a break and that dinner’s at seven. Told me I’m welcome to stay as well.”

“Sure you are, she loves having you around.”

“So you don’t?”

“I do,” Jeongguk chuckles. “But maybe not exactly right now. You’re warm, it’s distracting me from my codes.”

“That’s the point,” you say in a duh tone, turning your head to glance at his face. The light from his laptop screen reflects on the lens of his glasses, dancing across his brown irises in time with the speed of his fingers on the keyboard. You watch the codes go on and on for about five seconds before giving up, the array of symbols and numbers making your head spin. It’s amazing how his eyes stay unwavering behind the glasses, not at all bothered by the sheer amount of seemingly-random text on the screen.

“Why are you in glasses again? I thought you knew it does things to me.”

The way Jeongguk’s fingers halt their movement at once is almost comical.

“I’m … doing my assignment??”

You know your question sounds ridiculous and rethorical and your boyfriend’s reaction is a hundred per cent justified, but you don’t care. It’s his own fault for looking that hot in a simple getup of black t-shirt and prescription glasses, his own fault for letting his hair get so long it’s almost to his shoulder. It’s really his own fault that you’re repeating this monologue in your head, not being able to think straight anymore when your mind is echoing Jeongguk, Jeongguk, Jeongguk non-stop.

The jumbled thoughts in your mind manifests itself into you puckering up your lips to softly land them on Jeongguk’s skin, your first target being the mole on his neck. It’s one of your favorite features of his to kiss, to nip, to caress with your tongue until he’s a shuddering mess beneath your touch. You slowly trail your lips upwards to his jaw, to his cheek, to his sensitive ear where you give a small, almost playful bite with a faint scrape of your teeth. Jeongguk barely reacts, though, not even a hitch in his intakes of breath.

Instead of feeling upset, you feel more amazed at his self-restraint right now, being able to ignore his girlfriend literally sitting on his lap and peppering slow, sensual kisses on his skin. You decide to step up your game, brushing your fingertips against his skin to tuck his hair behind his ear so you can whisper into it and have your words be heard clearly.

“Wouldn’t you rather do me right now, Jeon?”

The way you let your lips faintly graze the shell of his ear is totally intentional, so is the huge sigh you let wash over the surface of his skin. Your lips go back on their journey down the side of Jeongguk’s throat, this time introducing your tongue to the equation that elicits a tiny shiver he tries to supress. His ever-so-solid resolve is starting to break and you’re happily opening your arms for when it crumbles down to the ground.

You’ve arrived back at the mole on his neck, wrapping your mouth around it before sinking down your teeth firmly on the flesh that (finally!) makes Jeongguk’s breath hitch. You continue your ministrations by licking over the bite marks, making sure to drag your tongue slowly over his reddened skin. When you start sucking on the spot to paint pretty bruises on his throat, a grip on your chin forces you to angle your head away only to receive a pair of lips over your own.

A contented sigh erupts from your chest, a sound you’re sure goes straight to Jeongguk’s nether region because he adjusts his position slightly, his left hand gripping your waist until your t-shirt is bunched up in his fist. In turn, you tighten your hold around his neck, preparing yourself for the onslaught of kisses you’re sure to receive from his warm mouth. Kisses that will lead to exciting events that involve you moaning out his name in pleasure.

Moan his name you do—in frustration in lieu of pleasure—when he pulls away from the kiss just as you were about to deepen it.

“Sorry, babe,” he says apologetically, a bit breathless from the onslaught of kisses you gave him. “But later, alright? I really need to get this done by tonight.”

Your response of quiet echoes in the room, your eyes glassy from both being clouded by lust and wanting to cry because that lust is not acted upon by your very hot boyfriend. The grip he has on your chin softens before he moves to craddle your cheek in his palm, stroking your cheekbone gently with his thumb.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I promise I will tend to your needs once I finish this assignment, okay?” When you’re still wordless, his hold on your cheek becomes firm, and you try to focus on his eyes while he talks. “Need you to promise not to distract me again, though. No orgasms if you do.”

“Nooo,” you whine, kicking your feet like a petulant child being denied a candy bar. You notice Jeongguk moving his leg yet again to adjust himself, a miniscule movement you’re sure he thinks will slip from your aroused mind. Little does he know your senses are heightened when you’re as strung up as you are right now, so you blurt out a fact that you both already know: “You’re semi-hard already!”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Yeah, your kisses are killer, baby.”

You continue to jut your bottom lip out, hoping it will be enough to change his mind. Jeongguk sighs, lips pulled into a straight line which makes the mole under his lip peek out, tempting you to lean forward to land a smooch on it. Before you have a chance to act out your thoughts, you’re halted by a firm grip on your shoulder courtesy of Jeongguk’s right hand. The hand that extends to a muscular, bulky, tattooed arm.

His tattoos. How could you forget about their existence only because of the twin lenses perched on his nose? How could you forget that before those goddamn glasses, it was those ink on his arm that made you weak in the knees? How could you?

Whatever words Jeongguk is saying right now sound like white noise to you, your eyes focused on the taut muscle of his bicep and the colored masks peeking from under his short sleeve. They seem to be dancing in your eyes, the blacks mingling with the colors contrasting the milky white of his skin tone, painting a beautiful picture with a story only he can tell.

When you speak next, you sound like you’re in a trance.

“Your tattoos … God, why are you so hot?”

Your boyfriend halts himself mid-sentence, round eyes blinking owlishly at your dazed expression before he follows your line of sight, chuckling when he realizes how focused you are on the tattoos on his arm. “Still loving the inks?”

You let out an affirmative hum, fingers slowly tracing the red tiger lily flower on his forearm. “You know … you never told me what your tattoos mean.”

“Really?” He lets go of your shoulder to fix his glasses before going back to his keyboard, fingers hovering over the keys and ready to type again. “I just assumed you already know some of them.”

“Well, just ones you got super early,” you say, grabbing his right arm to turn it around, searching for the tattoo you’re talking about. “Like this flower, and the Chinese saying on your elbow. And here … didn’t you use to have three stripes over here?”

“I did,” Jeongguk confirms, softly pulling his arm from your grasp to take your hand in his to offer a bargain and plead if he has to. “I’ll explain one by one, but you have to promise to let me do my assignment. It really is due tonight at eleven fifty nine, and I’m only about three-quarters done. Please, babe?”

You pout. “It’s not like I’m not letting you work on purpose …” The look Jeongguk gives you is enough to make you relent. “Okay, fine, I’ll just sit here and trace your tattoos while you explain and work on your codes.”

“Good girl.”

You refuse to admit those two words have such an effect on you that you have to hold down a shiver like Jeongguk did earlier. Instead, you move your fingers to trace your boyfriend’s skin once again, finally settling on the cover-up of the three stripes tattoo he used to have near his wrist.

“Okay, this one. Why a snake?”

Jeongguk stops typing for a second to glance at the tattoo even though he only has one involving a snake. “Oh, we start heavy,” he chuckles. “Uh … how do I say this? You know that snakes shed skin, right? They do that to give way for a new one, for me that symbolizes growth. So this snake is to say that I want to keep growing … to be a better person every day.”

“That’s very … deep of you,” you say, entranced. “What about this treble clef? Always wondered about this one, honestly, does it have to do with the fact that you used to sing in junior high?”

Your fingers brush against the musical note next to the snake, one that you remember being there since the start and didn’t undergo a cover-up.

The smile Jeongguk slips out is wistful, the way his thumb joins yours in caressing the tattoo tells you that this ink is one of the important ones for him.

“Do you see it connected to a chain?” His finger trails said chain, until it reaches a mic and further back to a clock he has near his elbow. “And it connects to a mic, then a clock with the time of my birth. It was three twenty-three, or three twenty-six? Yeah, around that time …” He continues stroking the numbers on the clock. “And you’re right. I’ve always wanted to be a singer ever since I was little, a fact I’m sure you know from all those years listening to me sing growing up.”

You do remember the times when he would sing all day, on the way to school, in between classes, on school functions, on the way home. There was never silence in your friendship, either filled by his wonderful voice or by the sound of you two bickering. You thought it was just a phase, because as soon as you stepped into high school, he closed the mic and started his rainbow-colored-tshirt phase. It never occured to you that it was a buried dream he kept alive by blowing on the dying embers.

“Why didn’t you pursue it?” Your whisper rings loud in the quiet room.

“Singing?” He shakes his head. “Too many obstacles, not enough resources. Wasn’t worth my whole life to pursue something too unclear.” His fingers brush the clock tattoo all the way to the treble clef. “This is just a tribute to my childhood, a reminder that once upon a time, there was Little Jeongguk who dreamed to sing. A reminder to keep that dream alive, even by mere inks on my arm. Who knows, maybe one day you could see me on TV, singing those crappy pop song with my melodious voice, charming everyone in town.”

Jeongguk grins, and that’s enough to tell you that he has made his peace with the situation. He taps the tattoo twice, motioning for you to continue tracing over them for new meanings and new stories.

Your finger points to the tiger lily next to the treble clef, one of your favorite tattoos of his. It’s drawn in a way that it covers three words behind it: Please love me, in bold capital letters. You wonder if the two has any connection or if it was just placed like that for creative purposes.

“It’s my birth flower,” Jeongguk starts. “Tiger lily as a birth flower symbolizes confidence, pride. I want to always be confident even in places I wouldn’t normally be, so this tattoo is just to remind me of that.” His thumb rubs over the red-orange flower fondly. “Plus, it’s pretty, don’t you think?”

“It is,” you agree, liking the ink even more after knowing the meaning behind the beautiful shape and color. You realize he missed the explanation for the three words behind the tiger lily, so you inquire with a swipe of your thumb over the black letters. “Does this have to do with the flower in any way?”

“Oh, yeah, I’ve read some people said that tiger lily also means ‘I dare you to love me’ or ‘Please love me’, so I put the two together like that,” he explains, a playful lilt suddenly present in the tone of his next words. “Kind of a nudge at you too, though, when we were going away for college and you still saw me as the scrawny kid who you’ve gone through childhood with.”

You groan. “Will you stop?? I didn’t know!”

“Well, to be fair, neither did I until too late into the college years where I couldn’t see you whenever I wanted like I had used to, so. There’s that.”

“So you just realized that you liked me after being away from me for, what, two years?”

“Yep.”

“Very late realization, indeed,” you muse. “So, tattoo tour, over?”

“You haven’t even gotten to my upper arm yet.” Jeongguk rubs over his bulging bicep all the way to his shoulder, sliding the short sleeve of his t-shirt upwards for you to get a clear view of his shoulder tattoo. “Oh, and my shoulder too.”

“Well, I’d love to, but you’ve gotten preoccupied with explaining your tattoos to me that you haven’t touched your codes for the past fifteen minutes.” You grimace while looking at the blinking cursor on his screen. “But okay, I’ll bite. What is that on your shoulder? I can’t ever seem to figure it out.”

“Supposed to be a moon,” he says nonchalantly, sliding the sleeve back down to block your view of the fading tattoo. It looks rather gray against his skin compared to the other black or colorful ones, the odd one out among the others. “But it’s kinda ruined now and I need to get it recolored or covered up, which I’m too lazy to do so it just sits there like that for now.”

“Recolored?” An idea pops into your head. “How about I recolor it for you?”

Without waiting for his answer, you proceed to lean over his torso to slide his sleeve back up before promptly sinking your teeth down on the flesh, eliciting a surprised yelp out of him. Soothing the skin with your tongue, you make sure to trace the drawing with that wet muscle of yours slowly, sensually, so he’s reminded of the reason you’re here in the first place.

When you start sucking on the reddened flesh, he lets out a shuddering breath while holding your waist in a vice grip. He doesn’t pull you away, though, so you see it as a green light to continue. Might as well take your chance while you still can.

After several more bites, licks, and sucks, you deem his skin colorful enough to pull away. You brush your thumb over the pretty artwork you’ve just done on your boyfriend, feeling proud of your “recoloring” work. “There, all recolored.”

Jeongguk lets out a huge sigh, resigned to his fate. “You’re really horny, aren’t you?”

“Very.”

“Still wet from earlier?” He lifts one eyebrow, challenging.

“Always wet for you, baby.”

“Fuck.” Jeongguk takes a glance at the clock before pulling his glasses off his nose. “We got ten minutes.” He leans forward to connect his lips to yours, this time not hesitating to use his tongue and teeth. His right hand slips underneath the band of your sweatpants, past your underwear to swipe at your clit before teasing a dip at your entrance, making you moan.

“Huh, was about to ask if ten minutes is enough,” he says before biting your bottom lip. “If you’re this wet we’re gonna finish in five.”

“Fuck, I don’t care how long, just stop teasing and make me cum already.”

“So demanding. Watch that mouth when I give you two back to back.”

“Was hoping you’d give me more—oh.”

It’s gonna be a really packed ten minutes.

a/n: jk's tattoo tour felt like a fever dream—but maybe that's just because i dreamed of him doing the exact same thing around 3 years ago.. anyway. really thankful that he decided to share such a personal part of his life to us :') any feedbacks (and maybe ideas for the next shenanigans this couple could pull off) are welcome in my askbox or here! thank you for reading :D

[mirrorsofwar]

#𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐑 a private & selective roleplay blog for ' 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒 ' & ' 𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐎𝐌 𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐄 ' from the 𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐃 series. A HIDEO KOJIMA BLOG, written by 𝐕.

Now do you REMEMBER? Who you are? What you were meant to do? I cheated death, thanks to you. And thanks to you I've left my mark. You have too - you've written your own history. You're your own man. I'm Big Boss, and you are too... No... He's the two of us. TOGETHER. Where we are today? We built it. This story - this "legend" - it's ours. We can change the world - and with it, the future. I am you, and you are me. Carry that with you, wherever you go. Thank you... my friend. From here on out, you're 𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐁𝐎𝐒𝐒.

𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒: @maljefe , @sadistpet , @kaishakuhito , @torntruth

𝐈. this blog will touch upon darker themes concerning war and war crimes ( though only through discussion, no actual writing depicting them ) therefore viewer discretion is advised. 𝐈𝐈. concerning the above, I will state that my muses' actions do not reflect my own. mun =/= muse. 𝐈𝐈𝐈. i am a bit of a slower writer these days so please be patient with me, I am always excited to write with people and plot but some days are a little more tricky than others due to physical and mental disabilities. i am reachable by ims or discord is available upon request. 𝐈𝐕. if you wish to unfollow me due to your own reasoning, I do not hold it against you to do so, however, please softblock me so we can avoid an awkward interaction in the future.

will add more in the future.

[embersofhope-if]

If you could describe every character including MC with one song and one song only what would the songs be?

...okay, i know you said one song, but uh, i picked two for the main (living) group because of how much they all change as the story goes on. dont shoot me, im begging 🙏

Early Game Mc: mirrorball by Taylor Swift

"I'm a mirror ball

I can change everything about me to fit in

You are not like the regulars

The masquerade revelers

Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten"

Late Game Mc: The Archer by Taylor Swift

"And I cut off my nose just to spite my face

Then hate my reflection, for years and years

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost

The room is on fire, invisible smoke

And all my heroes die all alone"

Early Game Creon: Mastermind by Taylor Swift

"You and I ended up in the same room at the same time

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse

Of a chain reaction of countermoves

To assess the equation of you

Checkmate, I couldn't lose"

Late Game Creon: Edmund Temper by Amigo the Devil

"So I pray to God

How could you give me them the gift of life

Then curse me with the hands to take it away

I never asked you to move the mountain

I just want to find the strength to climb it and find a different way"

Early Game Aurel: Eight by Sleeping At Last

"When I see fragile things, helpless things, broken things

I see the familiar

I was little, I was weak, I was perfect, too

Now I'm a broken mirror"

Late Game Aurel: Take Care of Yourself by Le Siren

"Let go of that anger

Clean off that shelf

Make the vow to grow old

And take care of yourself"

Ash: the lakes by Taylor Swift

"Take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die

I don't belong, and my beloved, neither do you

Those Windermere peaks look like a perfect place to cry

I'm setting off, but not without my muse"

Soren Vesper: Natalie by Milk & Bone

"Please never go away

I did it all for you, don't say I never tried

I wanna protect you, so that you never die"

Ione Vesper: Anti-Hero by Taylor Swift

"I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis

Tale as old as time"

Calliope Vesper: Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift

"Just close your eyes

The sun is going down

You'll be alright

No one can hurt you now

Come morning light

You and I'll be safe and sound"

[alternativegirl23]

I feel like the first two chapters have been filler. But I promise it gets better!

Deal With The Devil- Chapter 2

Morning came too quickly. Your eyes bleary, mouth cotton dry and sore. Slowly sitting up, you wiped your eyes to remove the sleep. You yawned wide and stretched what muscles you could feel were tense. Stomach grumbling, but turning with nausea at the same time. 

Slowly swinging your legs over the bed, and heading towards your bathroom off to the left. You were startled at your reflection. Red lipstick smeared away, hair askew from bedhead, and probably the worst morning breath ever. You remember Lee helping you in the bathroom, embarrassed that you couldn't hold the wine you imbibed. 

 You just wanted to forget how you felt. How he made you feel. Truthfully, you were broken up with several months ago by your ex. He just "wanted space for a while". You knew it was bullshit.

So, you just wanted to drown your sorrows. As well as feel more relaxed around Lee. He had always made you a little nervous, being too handsome for his own good. All he had to do was talk or look at you a certain way and you felt your heart beat a little faster. Hands suddenly clammy and your breath more shallow.

You slowly made your way down the stairs. Holding onto the railing so you wouldn't lose your balance. The kitchen calling to you with the wafting smell of bacon, eggs, pancakes, and coffee. Yawning and putting your hair up into a ponytail, you came to see Lee in the kitchen making a full breakfast. 

  Slightly confused, you wondered where your parents were. He seemed to be able to read your thoughts. "They left to go for a drive", he answered in his drawl that you loved. You nodded and went to sit down on one of the chairs situated under the medium sized island.

 Smiling at you, Lee finished up cooking all the food, setting them on the island. "Eat up, go on '', he encouraged, grabbing both of you plates and coming to sit down by your side. You half bent over the island, feeling too lazy to get up. The fabric of your shirt slid up slightly, and you felt Lee's eyes on you. "Yes?", you teasingly asked.

He chuckled to himself and shook his head, knowing he'd been caught.  

"You just look real cute, that's all" he smiled, a crooked grin as he looked at you. You smiled in return, sitting down as you started taking slow mouthfuls of food. A few moments passed, both of you trying to decide who should speak first. Lee spoke up, setting down his mug if coffee.

"You feeling any better?", he asked. 

"Yeah, my head is still pounding that's all. Shouldnt you be leaving soon?" You looked at him a moment, eating more forkfuls of food and chugging down the coffee in hopes the caffeine would help your headache.

"I'll still do my patrols but your dad actually offered me to stay here a bit. Says so I can get out of that motel I been stayin' in", he anwsers. 

"That's nice of him. It must be really lonely, since, you know'". A slight pause. "Ive been really lonely since my breakup. I cant imagine what divorce is like. Im glad youre here. We all are", you finish.

 Lee gave you a confused look, tilting his head and scooting closer to you in his chair."You didn't tell me you were single", he said. You shrugged, eyes downcast. Voice almost a whisper.

"I didn't think it was a big deal", you answered solemnly. 

"It is to me. Might explain why you've been drinking a bit more" Lee drawls, as if he knows you melt at hearing him talk. You nod. 

"You know you ain't as stealthy as you seem", he muses. You look up, face plastered with mild shock. You hadn't expected the conversation to veer this way. Lee continued, "You forget Im a cop sweetheart. I see everything. Ive seen the looks and smiles you give me. Ive noticed you've seen me given' em to you too". He moves even closer in his chair now, inches away from you. His right hand, large and warm, resting just above your knee. You had to ignore the vibrating sensation crawling up your leg. 

 "But what I wanna know is what exactly it is you want darlin'", he moves even closer to your face. A thumb resting on your cheek. Running small movements up and down as you keep staring at him. You're at a loss for words. You shake your head, whether to clear your thoughts or gather them, you're not sure. Lee smirks widely to himself, exposing some teeth. 

  He knows exactly what effect he has on you. But can he keep up the game? Before even thinking, you lean forward and kiss him deeply. Leaning into the kiss as you put your hands on his face, licking his bottom lip to see if he'll let you in. You start to moan before you can restrain it. 

 Little whimpers at first then bigger pleas. He only gives in a little, moving into you with his hands on your shoulders now. His hands slowly wrap around your back. Please God, just give a woman something. He deepens the kiss and slowly invades your mouth. 

He can't seem to keep noises to himself either. Letting out little groans and pants, as if you were sucking the life from him. Deepening it even more, you think maybe he'll finally act on how he feels. But as soon as it started, he stops. Fuck. 

  He pulls away quickly, sighing to himself as if he's disappointed for losing control. "Honey, Im goin' through a lot right now. I think it best we keep things low til dust settles. Alr'ght?" You nod your head, dropping it low in slight disappointment. You understood where he was coming from, but it didnt mean it still wasnt a rejection. Lee tucked his  right index finger under your chin, making you face him again.

   You gave a sad half smirk. "I understand. Im sorry. I just got carried away," you finally said. Lee returned the same smile, resting his right hand on your knee now. "Im sorry if I lead ya on, darling. I really do like you. I just dont wanna jump into anything too fast", he said. You nodded your head, your left hand softly covering his, trying to reassure him.

 "No, dont be sorry. We've both been really lonely. I shouldn't have jumped at you when I saw an opening", your voice calm and even. Lee smiled and leaned in to give you a friendly hug, both of you leaning forward on the stools then sitting back down. He had a different glint in his eyes now. Mischievous or calculating you couldn't tell.

A few moments of silence. He rose from his stool to stand in front of you. Hands planted solidly on the island on either side of you. You shift forward to face him. Breath hitching in your throat because he was so close again. He smirks to himself, just wanting to push your limits a little further. 

  But he wont, he's a patient man. At least when it comes to you. Lee gets up and starts to hand wash the dishes. You get up and start to help dry and put them away. Eyes couldnt help but keep returning back to Lee. 

A white tee shirt hugged the little pudge of his stomach. Light wash jeans gripping his thick thighs. You had to practically clench your thighs together. So touch starved, you would have humped his leg like a dog if he asked.

"Lee? Thank you for making breakfast", you said coyly. He gave a little grin. "You're welcome", was all he gave in return as he put the last dish away for you. He turned on his heel, heading towards the living room now. Now or never. My last chance. 

With a quick inhale, you walked away from the sink. A few paces closer to him but he was almost out of the room. "Lee?", you asked with a hint of panic in your voice. He turned toward you, a brow raised in your direction. "Yes Darlin'?", he drawled. There it was again. Does he know hes toying with you?  

"How about a deal", you were nervous now. Hands clammy, wiping them on your jeans. He slowly strode over, licking his bottom lip and pulling into his teeth. Lee stops a few inches from you, eyeing you up down.

 "Whats that cutie?" You blushed a little at his comment. His fingers brushed past your cheek as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Clearing your throat, finding the courage needed. You looked him in the eyes, not wanting to look away. 

 "How about when everything settles on your end…we have a sort of…relationship", you stated. His brows raised, unsure of what you meant. Shaking your head to clear your thoughts. This was still coming out more nervous than you wanted. Just once you wish you could be confident.

Lee chuckled softly, shaking his head. His hand softly grips your chin, tilting your head more up to his eye level. "Just say what you wanna say, honey", he spoke softly, more gravel in his tone than normal. Like he knew what you wanted, he just wanted to hear you say it. You kept eye contact still, wanting to appear unafraid. 

 "Were friends but we also fuck on occasion. Once your divorce is finalized, I mean. I know we're both lonelier than ever. So why not keep each other company?" Both of you stared into each other's souls, trying to figure the other out.

Would a man a decade younger than your dad be interested in someone like you? He had to be with all the looks and touches, right?  He gave you a neutral expression, not giving away what he was thinking at all. Come on, just tell me already.  You stepped back a foot or two, suddenly feeling enclosed by his presence. 

The weight of him is too much to bear. His scent is too dizzying to make you think straight. His thumb brushes your jaw tenderly. He notices and gives a little smirk. "Sounds fun to me darlin", he coos. 

You couldn't believe it. "I have one condition", you add. He still stares at you intensely. Lee gives a little nod for you to continue. "Let me call you Master, maybe Sir. Deal?", you hold out your left hand. He shakes his head with a laugh, stepping closer to you. 

 Lee holds out his right hand to shake your left. "Did I just make a deal with the devil, honey?" You shook his hand firmly, letting it drop after a few seconds. "Maybe you did", you say. A Cheshire cat-like smirk appears on your face. Now the fun can really begin.          

[mik-mania]

hi :3 soooooo which character(s) do you have the most muse/thoughts for and what do you like writing abt them the most?

THATS A GOOD QUESTION! i havent had a lot of time to think abt my characters in a while (´ー｀)

HOWEVER.

i think i end up having a muse for brusli, antemh, or dadevu most of the time. brusli and dadevu more for actual writing, whereas antemh has always just kind of been. a brainworm. hes just kind of always there.

i can see a lot of myself in brusli, antemh, and dadevu. there's a lot of coping mechanisms that have gone into them.

in hindsight, writing antemh was a huge coping mechanism for me growing up (made him ~2013? maybe even 2012), but as ive gotten older and left the environment i was in, hes kind of just turned into a silly lil guy for me. i guess maybe he's still somewhat a reflection of me even now--a guy who, despite having every reason to be bitter and miserable, still persists and stays silly.

to answer the second question, that's what my favorite part of writing him is. i think most people would assume he's pretty much a comic relief character, which wouldnt be wrong, but its easy to see happy-go-lucky characters and assume theyre more two-dimensional than characters who wear their troubles on their sleeve.

this also kind of (realizing as i write) reflects my own experience with being autistic. theres an unintentional assumption on others' parts where they assume, because i'm playful and choose to put on a happy face, that those are my only qualities. it's kind of hard to articulate to non-autistic people, so it's more IYKYK. a common complaint from adult autistic ppl though is we have a hard time getting people to take/treat us seriously like the adults we are, or at least treat us like our age.

brusli has a little bit of my middle school self in her. she's a bit more of a tomboy and she likes girls (which is more of a defining trait in an AU human brusli than troll brusli). a large amount of my brain power is dedicated to brusli/sarlla (sarlla belonging to @beantrolls) ship content because im obsessed w/ their relationship. i'm not sure why, but if i generally had to describe the nature of their relationship (again, this is moreso human au-specific, but there's elements of it in their troll relationship), it's sort of a trans&lesbian inversion of the manic pixie dream girl trope.

what i like about writing brusli is the emotions. when i'm emotionally struggling, she and antemh are usually the characters i turn to, depending on the mood. brusli is a little more visibly Sadgirl on this blog than she is in the comic, mostly because i kind of have her on that Tumblr Truth Serum here, where its assumed that an asker already has a somewhat established relationship with her. otherwise, she would kind of be boring to roleplay here, because canonly, she's alienated herself from most people and doesnt socialize much

*I ANSWERED THIS FOREVER AGO THEN TRIED TO SAVE IT AS A DRAFT AND TUMBLR ATE IT. BUT NOW ITS BACK. GOD DAMN. i think i was gonna say something about dadevu but its been forever so idk anyumore.

[parttimepuff]

🥀 “I’d like to imagine you’re talking about someone else, but I know that’s not how things really work around here lately”

Yes, it was Suzie again, this time holding a tablet with camera footage of, some sort of cell? Almost like a padded room, though not as severe

“Although when you say ‘massive pissed off penguin’, not many fit the bill. Though, he isn’t that much bigger than before.”

Lumbering into view is, something. Two sets of horns sprout from his head, straight through his hat too. Another pair sit on his back, pointed upwards even as he slouches.

And turning, his face sneers with a jagged beak, eyes hooded by a skeletal mask of some sort.

“We’ve had to figure out a way to record him without letting him get to the reflections in the camera lense, quite a challenge yknow.”

Setting the tablet between them where they could both watch and talk, she continues.

“But im more interested in how you know about him. He’s been one of my best kept secrets for the, oh, what is it?”

A mumble from behind her

“Is it really? Six years next week…”

She muses for a moment. Time does fly…

“But the interesting thing is that he has not left in those six years, so I want to know…how…”

On the screen, a star shaped portal has formed, the dark king approaching it before the screen flickers out.

And hes gone.

Suzie hasn’t moved, watching the screen as if nothing had changed. But the look in her eyes says otherwise

A panicked voice beyond her portal.

“I want that portal traced and I want to know who made it.”

There’s an edge to her voice. Steel. But there’s something else.

Something goblin would notice.

Fear.

Just enough that meant she did not want this guy getting out.

Theres a very unsure mumble from behind her, and Suzie slowly but smoothly turns to face her fellow watcher.

Her tone carries a professional sleekness and soft caress to it, not unlike the sharp side of a knife blade while it’s still being used to threaten, but not yet harm.

“Goblin, where did you take King D-Mind?”

Goblin jumped a little at Suzie's entrance, still not entirely used to her visiting whenever she wanted to. It took him a second to remember who she was referring to before it clicked. "Oh! Yeah, that guy!" He replied, nodding. It still didn't make any sense to him why she had any contact with him. Curious, he looked at the tablet's screen, trying to figure out what the footage was for.

"Than before..?" Goblin began to ask as the question died in his throat. Yes, that was exactly who he remembered. Their encounter had been brief, but he could still see the anger in his eyes. Subconsciously, he found himself backing away from the image.

Without letting him get at the reflections? He had no idea what that meant. Still, it enforced how much of a force to be reckoned with he was. "Wh-why do you..." Goblin started, Suzie cutting in with her own interest. She didn't know about their meeting? Why, when she had apparently had him in secret for six years?

Wait... six years? They met three and a half years ago. And he'd never left? Goblin was by no means a math wiz, but something wasn't adding up.

And then, a portal appeared. One of his. Goblin glanced at his hands as though they were doing something without his say so. No, he had nowhere near that much power right now. The penguin had stepped through and... but, he only opened portals in space. ...right?

The questions swirling around his head all ceased as Suzie turned to look at him. She had always been intimidating, he'd never seen her afraid. He had never seen that cold, calculating rage before, either. Pressing himself against the back of the bottle, Goblin held up his hands in a pleading gesture. "Wh-whoa whoa whoa, I summoned him three and half years ago!! Back when I was messing with the Dream Kingdom?? You teased me about how bad it went!!"

"I wasn't-I didn't try to get him specifically!!!" Goblin rambled, panicking more the longer she looked at him like that. "I was just reaching for someone tough to fight for me!! And he didn't!!! He attacked me!! Almost lost my head!!!" He paused. Going over his own consequences for that probably wouldn't help him here. "I-I don't, know where he went after. I, uh... didn't see him, after that." Oh god, Suzie was gonna kill him.

[attemptsonherlifepdf]

bojack horseman and bo burnham: the art of acting like you’re acting and the comedy of misery

at the core of bojack horseman, raphael bob-waksberg’s 2014 comedy, is a story about the relationship between performance and depression. the protagonist of this renowned tragicomedy is best described as a sympathetic villain; he is shown to clearly be in the wrong across various events of the show, and is explicitly referred to as a bad person, but the audience is granted deep access to his personal struggles, resulting in some portions of the audience finding themselves on bojack’s side. the duality of his character is complex, but can be broken down into some core components, that all stem from the impacts of stardom and performance. the standup comedy of bo burnham arguably echoes this sentiment in real time. having been a performer from a young age, burnham creates work that serves as a satirical commentary on the life of entertainers. he uses original songs to explore the reliance upon and resentment for his performative nature both onstage and within his personal life. both the comedian and the netflix show are widely understood to be thinly veiling their critiques of the entertainment industry behind a particular brand of witty and absurd humour.

both bojack and burnham’s content openly criticises their audiences and explicitly states the manufactured nature of the narrative the audience is fed. in the fifth season of bojack horseman, the show satirises itself by having bojack star in a police procedural drama, parts of which are actively written by other characters to reflect events of bojack’s life. the titular character he plays, philbert, is the epitome of selfish male angst, and an example of what bob-waksberg’s show could have been; another story about a sad and angry man whose guilt supposedly makes up for the people he has hurt. according to bojack, philbert teaches us ‘we’re all terrible, so we’re all okay’, an interpretation that is harshly disputed by diane: ‘that’s not the point of philbert, for guys to watch it and feel okay. i dont want you, or anyone else, justifying their shitty behaviour because of the show.’ this moment is a direct reaction to some of the online reception bojack horseman has received. various circles of the show’s fanbase have found themselves relating to the protagonist to the point of defending his untoward behaviour, a response not intentioned by the show’s creators. this is not the only example of bob-waksberg’s ability to make his work self-evaluative. in season six’s exposure of bojack and sarah lynn’s problematic relationship, characters question their sexual encounter from the first season. the writers use this as a way of examining their own choices, and the harmful tropes they played into when using this exploitative sexual encounter as a gag. this self-evaluative quality is what sets bojack apart as a show that assesses the performance it participates in, much like the comedy of bo burnham.

bo burnham is known for directly addressing his audience, particularly in terms of discouraging idolisation and parasocial relationships. some examples of this manifest as responses to hecklers rather than a planned bit in the show, for instance:

heckler: i love you!

bo: no you don’t

heckler: i love the IDEA of you!

bo: stop participating!

he actively addresses the issues posed by being an entertainer, and encourages the audience to understand and recognise that his onstage persona is just that: an exaggerated persona. not once does burnham claim to be fully authentic onstage, and even moments of authenticity we see in his latest special, inside, are staged. we make the assumption that having the physical setting of a stage stripped away grants us a more personal look at the entertainer’s life, but he makes it clear that even in his own home we still see the aspects he has carefully constructed rather than the full truth. arguably though, parts of the show really are authentic; in his monologue during make happy, bo deconstructs his own show in a way that is similar to bojack horseman’s later seasons, admitting that all he knows is performing and thus making a show about the more mundane and relatable aspects of life would feel ‘incredibly disingenuous.’ in his attempts to separate himself from this onstage persona he actually manages to blur the lines between what is acting and what is now part of his nature as a result of his job. this notion is echoed in bojack horseman as bojack’s attention seeking nature is attributed to his years acting in front of a camera every day.

bo suggests that the era of social media has created a space in which children’s identities mimic that of an entertainer like himself, describing the phenomenon as ‘performer and audience melded together.’ in this observation he criticises the phenomenon. bo attempts to force the audience to recognise the ways in which their lives are becoming shaped by the presence of an audience and to some extent uses his own life as a warning tale against this. he points out the way in which the ‘tortured artist trope’ means that your cries for help or roundabout attempts of addressing mature themes such as substance abuse, mental illness and trauma become part of that on stage persona and therefore become part of the joke. both bo and bojack address these topics in more discrete manners earlier in their careers, but this eventually becomes expected, and thus they are forced to explicitly detail their struggles with these topics in order to be taken seriously. even then, portions of the audience are inclined to see it as part of the persona or as something that fuels the creators creativity and thus does not need to be addressed as a legitimate issue. the emphasis on creating a character or persona promotes the commodification of mental illness: any struggle must be made into a song or a joke or a bit, must be turned into part of the act in order to have value. this actually serves to delegitimise these emotions and create a disconnect between the feeling and the person, as it becomes near impossible to exist without feeling as though you are acting. even when an artist’s cries for help become blatant, they continue to go ignored because now they serve the purpose of creating content that criticises the industry they stem from. online audiences can be seen as treating bo burnham and his insightful work as existing to demonstrate the negative effects entertaining can have, and because this insight is useful or thought-provoking to audiences, he is almost demanded to keep entertaining and creating. in response to this demand, his work becomes more meta and his messages become clearer, and the more obvious his messages, the more people he reaches. this increases audience demands and traps entertainers in a cycle fraught with internal conflict.

during bojack’s second season, bojack’s date asks him, ‘come on, do that bojack thing where you make a big deal and everyone laughs, but at the same time we relate, because you're saying the things polite society won't.’ this moment exemplifies how aspects of his genuine personality have now become a part of his persona and this is demanded of him in genuine and serious situations, undermining the validity of his emotional reactions. he immediately makes a rude comment to the waitress at the restaurant they’re in and satisfies his date by performing that character he has set himself out to be. some circles of the fan base have argued that bojack is written as a depiction of somebody with borderline personality disorder, offering a psychoanalytical lens through which to view this notion of performance. a defining symptom of borderline personality disorder is a fluctuating sense of self; having grown up on camera, being demanded to perform to others as young as six years old, bojack’s sense of self will have been primarily dictated by the need to act.  whether this acting is for the sake of comedy, or as a representation of masking his mental illness, when they need to act is taken away bojack entirely loses his sense of self and relapses into his addictions: ‘i felt like a xerox of a xerox of a person.’ burnham’s depictions of depression run along a similar vein; in his new special he poses the idea that his comedy no longer serves the same personal purpose it once did for him. he questions ‘shit should I be joking at a time like this?’ and satirises the idea that arts have enough value to change or impact the current global issues that we are facing. burnham’s ‘possible ending song’ to his latest special, he asks ‘does anybody want to joke when no-one’s laughing in the background? so this is how it is.’ implicit in this question is the idea that when the audience is taken away and there is nobody to perform his pain to, he is left with his pain. instead of being able to turn his musings and thoughts into a product to sell to the public, he is forced to just think about them in isolation and actually face them, an abrupt and distressing experience.

the value of performance and art is questioned by both bojack and burnham, particularly during the later years of their respective content. burnham’s infamous song, art is dead, appears to be a direct response to the question ‘what is the worth of art?’ he posits that performing is the result of a need for attention (‘my drug’s attention, i am an addict, but i get paid to indulge in my habit’) and repeatedly jokes throughout his career that the entertainment industry receives more respect that it deserves (‘i’m the same as you, im still doing a job or a service, i’m just massively overpaid’). his revelations regarding the inherent desire for attention that runs through all entertainers is frequently satirised in bojack horseman. bojack is comically, hyperbolically attention hungry and self-obsessed, and the show has a running gag in which he uses phrases along the lines of ‘hello, why is nobody paying attention to me, the famous movie star, instead of these other boring people.’ his constant attempts to direct the focus of others towards himself result in bojack feeling like ‘everybody loves you, but nobody likes you.’ his peers buy into his act and adore the comical, exaggerated, laughable aspects of his character, but find very little room to respond to him on a genuinely personal level because of this. interestingly, bojack appears to enjoy catering to his audience and the instant gratification it produces, whereas bo burnham becomes increasingly candid about his mixed feeling towards his audience. ‘i wanna please you, but i wanna stay true to myself, i wanna give you the night out that you deserve, but i wanna say what i think and not care what you think about it.’ he admits to catering to what audiences want from him, but resents both the audience and himself in the process as it reveals to himself which parts of his character are solely for the sake of people watching him.

within bojack horseman, this concept is applicable not only to the protagonist, but to the various forms of performer demonstrated in the plot. towards the show’s end, sarah lynn asks ‘what does being authentic have to do with anything?’ to which herb kazzaz responds, ‘when i finally stopped hiding behind a facade i could be at peace.’ this highlights the fact that because entertainers are demanded to continue the facade, they do not receive the opportunity to find ‘peace.’ this sentiment is scattered throughout the show, through a musical motif, the song ‘don’t stop dancing.’ the song stems from a life lesson bojack imparted to sarah lynn at a young age, and becomes more frequently used as the show progresses and bojack’s situation worsens.

sarah lynn is also used to explore the value of entertainers; in the show’s penultimate episode, she directly compares her work as a pop icon to the charity work of herb, arguing that if she suffered in order to produce her work. it has to mean something. she lists the struggles she faced when on tour: ‘i gave my whole life...my manager leaked my nudes to get more tour dates added, my mom pointed out every carb i ate, it was hell. but it gave millions of fans a show they will never forget and that has to mean something.’ implicit in this notion is the idea that entertainment is the epitome of self-sacrifice. there is a surplus of mentally ill individuals within the industry, largely due to the nature of the industry itself, but some may argue that the cultural grip the industry has, and the vast amounts of respect and money it generates annually, gives the suffering of these prolific individuals meaning.

the juxtaposing responses entertainers feel towards their audiences manifest as two forms of desperation: the desperation to be an individual who is held accountable, and the desperation to be loved and validated. we see both bojack and bo depict how they oscillate between  ‘this is all a lie’ and ‘my affection for my audience is genuine’, or between ‘do not become infatuated with me im a character’ and ‘please fucking love my character i do not know how to be loved on a personal level.’ bojack explicitly asks diane to write a slam piece on him and ‘hold him accountable’, similar to bo’s song ‘problematic’ in which the hook includes the phrase ‘isn’t anybody gonna hold me accountable?’ for his insensitive jokes as a late teenager. their self-awareness is what enables their self-evaluative qualities, but self-awareness is its own issue. bojack grapples with a narcissistic view of his own recognition of his behaviour before settling on a more nuanced, albeit depressing take. originally he makes the assumption that in recognising the negative aspects of himself, he is superior to those who behave similarly: ‘but i know im a piece of shit. that makes me better than all the pieces of shit that don’t know theyre pieces of shit.’ eventually, during his time at rehab he is forced to reconcile with the fact that self awareness does not, to put it bluntly, make you the superior asshole, it just makes you the more miserable one. the show does, however, make a point to recognise how the entertainment industry protects ‘pieces of shit’, prioritising their productive value over how much they deserve to be held accountable, demonstrated using characters like hank hippopoalus. the show itself obviously stems from the entertainment industry, as it is a form of media produced by netflix, one of the most popular streaming platforms available. bojack horseman and bo burnham represent the small corner of the industry that is reflective enough to showcase the damage it inflicts. this is powerful in terms of education and awareness, and urges audiences to question their own motives and versions of performance, but the reflection alone is not powerful enough to help the artists in question. burnham’s candid conversations surrounding his mental health continue to reveal a plethora of issues somewhat caused or sustained by the nature of his career. within bojack horseman, bojack is only able to stop hurting other characters when those characters construct a situation that forces him to face consequence, his introspection alone is not enough. while bojack ends on a message of hope, suggesting to the audience that reverting back to the status quo is not the only acceptable way for events to end, it leaves stinging lessons and social commentary with the audience regarding the unnatural and damaging narrative that performers live through. on a similar but markedly different note, bo burnham’s work and personal progression is playing out in real time, and not in a way that is as raw and genuine as it appears. each bit is planned, even the most vulnerable moments that appear unplanned and painful. his latest special is not entirely devoid of hope, but does translate to audiences as a somewhat exaggerated look around the era of social media and the development of performance, using himself as an example.

the absurdist humour that often acts as a vehicle for poignant statements or emotionally provocative questions is very specific to each media creator. bob-waksberg’s use of puns, tongue twisters and entirely ridiculous circumstances served to simultaneously characterise his points as an expected part of the show’s style of humour, similar to bojack’s emotional instability, but also to make them appear gut-punching in comparison to the humour. burnham’s work is similar in that poignant but blunt statements are often sandwiched between absurd and exaggerated jokes, making them stand out via contrast but not giving the audience too much time to dwell upon them as they are said. performance art is second nature to entertainers, and is presented a an issue that is infiltrating the general population via social media rather than solely affecting the ‘elites’. bojack horseman and bo burnham present the duality of artists simultaneously attempting to level the playing field and increase their chances of survival in the industry, and encourage audiences to know that everyone is bluffing and you’ll never have the right cards anyway.

i.k.b

[valberryy]

special thanks to @starfell-traveler for the idea!! i would still b staring at the google docs blinking cursor (derogatory) otherwise thank u for my life....... also ill think of a title l8r i have No brain rn AHAHA

ALSO HAPPY VALENTINESSS im sorry i can only think of angst i didnt mean it i still love u

pairing: zhongli x gn!reader

content warnings: angst, discussions about death

Every other Sunday, you would bring Zhongli a bouquet of flowers. And for each day until your next visit they sat in a vase in his living room, slowly wilting until the next time you stopped by with a new set to replace the old. It was always the same, too—silk flowers and horsetails and violetgrass. A strange combination, you had admitted at first, but he enjoyed the way it stuck out amidst the earthen colours of his home. 

Just like how you did, he mused.

But then the leaves and petals fluttered off and fell unceremoniously onto his table, and he wondered, each time, when you would join his other friends in that old graveyard, and he would have to drink osmanthus wine on his own again. 

Human lives like yours were so fickle, so transient, he mourned. Each day as he watched the flowers slowly wither away, he lamented that one day, he would have to let you go as well—but in any lifetime, in any shape or form, he could never think of replacing you. He would only be left with this old vase and the lingering memories of your laugh and your smile and your fingers brushing against his… What a bleak future it was that awaited him, with nothing to break the monotony of both his days and the neutral hues of his living room.

Unconsciously, he tightened his grip on your hand.

You had stopped admiring the lanterns in the sky to glance at him, having noticed how his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly. "Zhongli," you said, squeezing his hand. "Are you alright?"

He sighed. "Apologies, my love. After you planned all of this…still I find myself lost in thought."

With a hum, you directed your gaze back up at the sky. "And what would it cost for me to hear them?"

A laugh, then, in spite of everything. "It's nothing," he said. "Simply thoughts about…transience. You may want to replace the flowers you brought last time, by the way."

"Ah, you're right…pick some out with me later? You must be tired of the purples by now."

"I do so enjoy your tastes, though, my love…"

He trailed off as he caught the glint of lantern-light reflected in your eyes, turning them as warm an amber as Cor Lapis held to the light, and found his breath caught in his throat. He thought again of the vase on his desk and the warmth of your hand in his, the smell of the withering bouquet and the scent of your perfume.

One day, he will have to let you go—and though each day the fear entangled his heart like brambles, for now he will hold onto you as long as he is able.

"What was it you said you were talking about, though? Transience? Where'd that come from all of a sudden?"

"...Perhaps the Lantern Rite resurfaced some old memories."

And when the day comes that you are not by his side, still he will fill his home with flowers every other Sunday, in the exact way that you liked—and he will engrave these memories so dearly in his heart that when he closes his eyes, he can still feel your fingers brush against his as you push another bouquet into his hands.

[claymotif]

hiiiiii ok for both sky sea and starless hour if they were being adapted into a movie/tv show/etc what would the soundtrack be like??? any songs you would specifically have to include??? general vibe and type of instrumentation etc??? (this is also me saying if you have playlists i would like to see them and hear you explain them bc 👀)

okay SO for sky sea im just gonna hit some key points (since i've been using the same playlist since it was a space odyssey and haven't cleaned it up yet, some songs are no longer relevant) but tsh. oh boy. none of these are in a particular order sorry <3

(because i've committed the high crime of knowing more than one language. sorry some of these songs are not in english but im including translations to the best of my ability. also sorry this post is LONG long)

sky sea:

all time low - a love like war

keldan/aderyn anthem. literally just every line

"is this the end of us or just the means to start again"

i would say most of the song is referencing their past relationship except the last line (and maybe the repetition of "we go together or we don't go down at all") which is like. present day learning to fuckin deal with each other

muse - won't stand down

another keldan song sorry but like. come on

specifically when his revenge arc begins. somewhere in there he's gonna try to ruin the nation and then have to decide whether it's worth it to follow through :)

sleeping at last - neptune

literally NO idea where this one fits in bc it literally suits every one of the main four and lowkey every possible dynamic

"i'm only honest when it rains" etc etc

"i want to love you but i don't know how"

florence + the machine - king

melati my beloved <3

this is her theme song after she ascends to girlboss mode

5sos - lover of mine

keldan/seia

i think this one pretty much sums up their dedication to each other even tho they truly don't actually label that relationship it's just like. they're so absorbed in each other that they're like one single entity at this point. creepy but effective

side note this is really just a reflection of my 12 y.o. self's music taste idk why

for starless hour i actually have two playlists, one for like. instrumentals and the other for vibe inspiration. again trying to hit key points only but i don't know how to shut up

the ready set - the witching hour

"heard that energy is a constant state / nothing ever ends, it will only change"

"and then I fall into a hurricane of empty thoughts / where I become all my own problems when I swore I'd not"

"there's something telling me that I still have a lot to give / maybe there's beauty in uncertainty, I hope there is"

this one's literally 60% for the vibes because how can i not include a song called "the witching hour" on this playlist

but also i really like the feeling of sort of. cautious optimism in the song that feels really central to. maybe not the overall plot of tsh but definitely where i want the resolution to end up

monsta x - destroyer

"however many times it takes, rewind / i'll go to you, rewind / the ending is up to me anyway"

"i believe in destiny, i believe in us / ... / all of the memories in this vicious cycle"

"then the ending is complete / our string is already connected"

ignoring the time-travel themes of the song. god the idea of writing your own destiny. or like even though tsh doesn't have time travel i like the idea of trying over and over again to get it right. like i'm not giving them the chance to try but i like the idea.

also UGH red string of fate theory my beloved

lea - ende der welt

"this isn't the end of the world ... / just the end of us / this isn't the end of the world, even if it feels like it / it doesn't kill us"

"and when the sun goes down, is it just the earth that turns with us?"

i know the song is intended as a breakup song but again. come ON how can i not include it. it's literally called end of the world.

all time low - old scars / future hearts

"i don't wanna be the one that's left behind / don't blame me, don't hate me"

"i am lost inside this endless haze of life / but this life is mine to live"

again sort of in line with the idea of making your own decisions/writing your own future. i think it also fits neatly with delwyn's belief that only he is in control of his own choices? he's the one who picks his destiny. even tho in the end he chooses wrong, it's still his choice etc.

bastille - get home

again. literally the whole song but:

"we are the last people standing / at the end of the night / we are the greatest pretenders / in the cold morning light"

"how am i gonna get myself back home?"

this song goes along with the end of the story, once all the worst has come to pass and there's nothing left to change/prevent

and it's getting home in a literal sense because the story i think will take them pretty far from home. but also in the figurative sense of the journey changes them so much and how can they possibly go back to who/where they were?

jo sung mo - do you know (youtube link to my preferred cover)

"if you ask me why i didn't say anything / my heart aches, i can't answer"

"no matter how many times i'm born again and leave again / there's no world like this one where i met you"

"maybe this world is beautiful because of the traces of you"

"do you know today is the last day you and i will be under the same sky?"

another breakup song but GOD.

also sorry my translations are rough but i literally could not find an eng translation of the lyrics that i liked enough to use so i just made my own

anyway. haven't figured out how to word all of my feelings about this song so i'm hoping u will just Understand. thanks <3

stray kids - chronosaurus

not really an exact lyric to point to actually but i think this song captures the desperation and the "oh god i'm running out of time" vibe that i LOVE for tsh

the theme for instrumentals is yearning baby! loneliness and hope and "the light will come again" and "everything is so different than it was". extremely unquantifiable emotions with no lyrics to guide me. good luck bestie (this playlist is shorter tho because it's newer)

gone in a flash (spider-man: no way home)

the quiet loneliness.. the fade out... ugh i literally have no words

you're going to notice a lot of these instrumentals follow the same theme lmao

exit through the lobby (spider-man: no way home)

obsessed with the way this builds slowly and then fades out to the lone piano

on the nature of daylight (max richter)

this song would be included on the basis of title alone but it's also perfect. one of my long-time fave instrumental pieces out there

a knight of the seven kingdoms (got s8 soundtrack)

yes this is from game of thrones. yes it's a masterpiece. next question

a different idea of love (luke howard)

again. strings. there's something about string instrumentals that makes me sob every time.

manhattan sunrise (ola gjeilo)

PIANO. i really love this song and also the title and the vibe fit equally perfectly with tsh. the light dawning over the city. despite everything that's happened there is still hope.

maybe you can guess that this piece corresponds to the end of the plot

at dawn (hania rami)

once again. slow sad piano. what more do i need to say.

one day you finally knew (slowed remix) [chad lawson]

no comment. just vibes

(translation: this is the song that would play during the end credits of the movie. if it were a tv show it would only play during the last ep's credits tho)

[the-last-kenobi]

I... I wrote a thing... goddamnit...

Based on this post

All credit and love to @latenightsomewhere and @americankimchi for the idea!

(keep in mind this is not canon compliant. I have aged Obi-Wan down to ten, for one thing. I wanted smolbi-wan💕 and dammit, that’s what I wrote.)

___

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Then again, that was something that could be said after all missions. “It was supposed to be simple,” Jedi would say, shaking their heads ruefully. “Simple.”

They had known they were walking into unpleasant territory.

The Outer Rim was safe for no one — least of all Force-sensitives.

Least of all, Qui-Gon reflected, gripping the hilt of his lightsaber so tightly that he could feel the ridges carving lines into his palms, least of all young Jedi Padawans. Who had training. Who had skills. Who carried kyber in their sabers.

Like Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon hadn’t quite realized what had happened— not at first — not with his head ringing with the force of the blunt instrument someone had slammed against his head during the scuffle. He had dragged himself to his knees, first, heaving for breath, then slowly rose to his feet, breathing deeply to chase away the nausea.

And then he had discovered he was alone.

Completely alone.

The slavers were gone, and so was his ten-year-old apprentice—

They took him, he thought, stunned. They took him right from under me, where he should have been safest. I didn’t leave him alone on the ship for a reason, but they took him—

As he reeled, flashes of memory started to filter back through the confusion.

Obi-Wan had been behind him, shielded — and then they were unexpectedly surrounded, outnumbered by what was clearly more than a roving pack of criminals — Obi-Wan had ignited his saber and fought back — Qui-Gon had dropped with a blow to the head, and he heard — shouting —

— a startled cry, a thin and high-pitched voice — a muffled scream, a child’s scared voice —

“Master!”

And a powerful fury rose up inside Qui-Gon, both focused and wild, and he did not feel inclined to subdue it.

•

“It’s not natural, is it,” complained one of the group, a young nautolan with grey skin. “Look at him.”

“Shut up,” one of the others said, shooting a slightly wary look in the direction the first was gesturing.

“He’s a kid,” a third said dismissively. This was easily the most eye-catching of the group, an enormous burly Besalisk that was even taller than Master Krell. “And he’s drugged. He can’t do anything. Forget him.”

“He’s a fucking menace is what he is,” the first muttered.

Obi-Wan grinned at them, a slightly manic expression. This was not helped by the blood streaked through his ginger-blonde hair, or the gag they had tied tightly around his mouth.

He said something to them, muffled by the cloth.

“What?” the Besalisk suddenly turned from dismissive to angry.

“Leave him, he’s just being—” one of the others began, but the enormous reptilian humanoid shook his head violently, stalking towards their captive.

“I asked what you said,” he repeated.

Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes, gesturing towards the gag with his bound hands. The nautolan looked gobsmacked at his nerve.

The Besalisk rumbled low in his throat and jerked the cloth roughly out of the boy’s mouth, catching painfully on his lower lip as he did.

Obi-Wan winced and blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“What did you say?” his antagonist repeated.

“I said,” Obi-Wan answered, staring plaintively up at the much taller creature, “you’re going to be very sorry when my Master catches up with you.”

The Besalisk laughed, but it was not a happy sound. One by one the others all joined in, although some more hesitantly than others.

“Your Master didn’t put up much of a fight,” the kidnapper goaded him. “And even if he could, he’d have to put in a lot of work to find you. I don’t think he’ll bother, do you?” He leered. “He’s a Jedi. He’s got a job on his hands, and you come second.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flickered.

Then he smiled. “I was wondering something earlier, but you just answered my question for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said, mocking the elder’s drawling accent. “You made it obvious that yes, you are exactly as stupid as you look.”

Several of the slavers gaped.

“Or even stupider,” Obi-Wan added.

There was a bellow of rage, and an enormous fist collided with the boy’s face, leaving grooves up his cheek and forehead that were none too shallow. The gag was forced back into his mouth.

Obi-Wan went back to smiling manically at anyone who looked his way.

•

It took Qui-Gon three and a half standard days to find who had taken his apprentice and where they had gone.

Every minute of those three and half days were spent utterly focused; healthy amounts of sleep were sacrificed in exchange for tracking down information and planning his rescue.

And every minute was also spent with quiet thoughts murmuring in the back of his mind, where not even Jedi calm could quiet them.

They could have moved him again.

They could have had a buyer waiting for the next Force-sensitive they managed to catch.

They’re hurting him. They’re hurting him right now and you’re nowhere near enough to help.

And, perhaps the most quiet, most desperate truth in his heart — If I lose this one, there will be no coming back for me.

•

Obi-Wan bit the hand in front of his face.

The slaver yelped, somehow not expecting the attack despite what Obi-Wan considered fair warning in the form of a venomous glare before the gag had been removed.

“Little brat!” the slaver hissed, shaking his damaged hand that the apprentice was a little pleased to see was bleeding.

“Get him up,” one of the others snapped. “We’re taking him to the deep market tonight, and he needs his attitude fixed first.”

“Not likely,” the ten-year-old said cheerfully. “I was an incorrigible child and my mentor is not exactly—”

He was struck again.

“That’s getting kind of repetitive,” complained Obi-Wan, kicking his bound feet a bit where they hung a foot off the floor, trying to get the blood flowing. “And the same side every time, too. I’m going to get permanent damage and then how much will I be worth?”

“He’s gotta point,” said the newcomer unhelpfully.

The one who had been bitten scowled mightily, then sneered down at his captive, a mean little gleam in his eyes that the boy did not like the look of.

A moment later, a hand closed tight around the boy’s throat, right above the thin collar that had been set there, rigged to blow if he managed to flee.

Obi-Wan choked and began to struggle.

The hand squeezed tighter. “The punishment should fit the crime,” the male mused aloud. “And it’s your back talk that’s going to get you in trouble with your new master, and lower your value on the auction block. Seems fair to get rid of your voice, then.”

The other slaver watched appraisingly. “Just don’t kill ‘im, Frid.”

“Course not,” said the man who was evidently Frid, watching with vindictive pleasure as Obi-Wan writhed weakly, his face turning white and then blue.

Obi-Wan was dropped.

He gasped, his breath rattling in his constricted throat, and kept his head down this time.

This is why Master always says I need to redirect that urge to talk back, he reflected, feeling a little queasy. He’s not going to be happy about my injuries at this rate.

•

Qui-Gon was no stranger to bypassing the local authorities on the planets he visited. He was notorious for it, in fact.

This time, he had chosen to work with the authorities — and then ditched them at the last minute.

Now everything was as legal and tidy as he cared to make it, and the government would be able to arrest and shut down the entire operation, over the course of mere weeks if they were focused about it.

...After Qui-Gon had gone in after his apprentice.

He was quiet and careful about his approach, stealing his way into the underground warehouse that was the gateway to the infamous black market of the planet, a place where spice and banned items were passed from hand to hand — and sentient beings, too.

He could sense his Padawan, albeit barely.

Drugged, most likely.

Sustained exposure to Force suppressants could kill him.

Shaking off the intrusive thoughts, Jinn followed his instincts down several flights of stairs and down a hallway, listening intently.

Bang.

A door flew open to his left, and he melted into the shadows as two figures emerged, one a hulking Besalisk with a permanent scowl and the other a gangly human male with very scruffy hair.

“—not my responsibility,” the human was complaining. “I didn’t sign up for dealing with him. I didn’t even catch him.”

“I did,” the Besalisk grunted. “Little whelp. Squirmed around like a worm on a hook and wouldn’t stop fucking screaming. He would’ve alerted the whole neighborhood just moving him from where we picked him up to the truck.”

“Why didn’t you just gag him?” the human laughed.

“Didn’t have anything to do it with,” the other shrugged. “Tried using my hand and the brat damn near snapped his own neck trying to scream anyways.”

They chuckled a bit.

Qui-Gon held his breath, both wanting and not at all wanting them to be discussing who he thought they were—

“What do the bosses expect us to do, work miracles?” the human went back to complaining. “I hear he’s a spitfire. And they want him ready for sale, in what, three hours?”

The Besalisk grinned. “Three hours is plenty of time. Frid told me that smacking the kid around doesn’t do much good, but he half-strangled him earlier and that shut him up. Jedi whelp.”

And there it was.

It was all the evidence Qui-Gon needed.

The two slavers turned around in alarm when they heard the distinctive hiss-snap of a lightsaber igniting.

All they caught a glimpse of was a towering figure seemingly appearing out of thin air, his expression serene but his eyes blazing, an emerald blade glowing in his hands, and then they were down for the count.

•

Obi-Wan decided that lying facedown on the floor was the better part of valor for the moment.

He was sore and bruised and scratched, and his throat was swollen while his neck chafed against the collar, and he could no longer tell if the nausea was caused by the drugs in his system or from being mistreated.

They had forgone the cloth gag in favor of sealing his lips shut with tape, which Obi-Wan considered a compliment to his ability to annoy them, but it also hindered his ability to breathe.

The slaver standing over him was dusting his hands off rather gleefully.

Obi-Wan squeezed his eyes shut and wished very very hard, knowing that even without being able to touch it, the Force was with him—

And like a miracle, the door swung open, and there was his wish.

The slaver didn’t stand a chance. He only had time to let out an undignified squawk of surprise before he was flying into the ceiling, smacking into a rafter with undue force and then dropping neatly onto a nearby cot that rattled under his weight.

Obi-Wan sighed and let his eyes drift closed.

The man in the doorway was at his side in an instant.

A warm hand touched his shoulder, then slid upwards to touch his neck, looking for signs of life, examining his damaged throat.

Then, very carefully, the tape was peeled away from his mouth.

Obi-Wan smiled into the cold flooring and forced himself to open his eyes again.

“Hullo, Master,” he murmured.

•

Qui-Gon had thought, for one heart-stopping moment, when he had reached Obi-Wan just in time to watch him close his eyes and go limp—

But he was awake, now, those enormous bright blue eyes twinkling up at him out of a battered face.

“Hullo, Master,” said a very small, hoarse voice.

“Hello, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said softly, running his hand up and down the boy’s back, unnerved by how chilled he was to the touch. “How does a warm shower and some proper sleep sound?”

Obi-Wan pretended to think about it, and Qui-Gon had to fight down a laugh at his antics, even now. “Do I have to see healers first?”

“Yes,” answered the Master. “But I believe I can manage to have them release you quickly. We’re leaving for Coruscant tonight; we can sleep on the ship.”

“Oh, all right,” said Obi-Wan, but he didn’t move.

“Can you stand?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Possibly.”

There was another pause, then: “...not really.”

Without another word, Qui-Gon stood, scooping the boy into his arms as he did, cradling his head against one shoulder. Obi-Wan murmured something that he didn’t quite catch.

They moved out of the room and into the hallway, then began to make their way back out of the warehouse. Qui-Gon was stepping over bodies as he went... most of them merely unconscious.

He spotted the scruffy-haired man who had been laughing about the screaming Jedi whelp, and didn’t begrudge himself for trodding accidentally on the man’s outstretched fingers as he passed.

“I... am sorry, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said heavily. “I should have protected you better.”

The ginger head shifted; the boy murmured something vague into his tunics again and then said softly, “It wasn’t your fault, Master. Besides...” he winced as they crossed beneath a bright light that threw the injuries on his face into glaring relief that made Qui-Gon’s stomach clench with self-recrimination. “...I knew you would come for me.”

And those seven little words did a great deal to ease the rage and guilt still swirling inside the tired Jedi Master.

“Always, Padawan,” he said quietly. “Always.”

Obi-Wan was asleep in his arms by the time they emerged into the twilight, surrounded by the movement of law enforcement as they swarmed upon the compound, and therefore he didn’t know it when Qui-Gon, near-shaking as the adrenaline of the past several, stressful days began to fade, murmured: “Thank the Force for you, little one.” And pressed a soft kiss to the sleeping head.

[vintagedolan]

lucid locations (gbd)

while one full year of wakeheart and an impending candle launch are definitely moments to celebrate, you might just have another plan for the ceo’s attention

word count: 7.5k

warnings/tags: ceo!grayson, lots of smut, 🥵  is all im sayin

feel free to send in requests! and check out my masterlist if you wanna :)

Between construction at the house, the warm California summer and an inviting pool right in the backyard, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d had on more than a bikini top, running shorts and one of Grayson’s shirts. He was the same - mostly running around shirtless in his shorter shorts, maybe throwing on a tank top if he was building. When you’d packed up to take haven from the construction dust and noise, headed for a rental house in Malibu, you’d had to convince him he needed to pack more than his new speedos. 

Needless to say, getting cleaned up and ready for a black tie event was quite the shift from your usual day to day. The makeup you were swiping on felt almost foreign, especially the lipstick. But the hand that made it’s way onto your bare back was all too familiar. You relaxed into it, smiling at Grayson in the mirror. 

“God damn.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes, closing them when he leaned over to press a kiss to your shoulder.

“You look so good,” he hummed. “But can you look good 6 inches to the right? I gotta clean up my beard.” Your eyes went wide, lip jutting out as you moved over, opening up the spot in front of the sink. 

“Don’t shave it.” You blurted, making him laugh.

“Don’t worry baby, I’m just cleaning up the edges. The scruff stays.”

“Good, it makes you look very... ceo-ey,” you grinned, reaching over to run a finger over his jaw, feeling the coarse hair there that you loved so much.

“What, I don’t look ceo-ey with a baby face? Not even in this fit?” He gestured down to himself in his speedo, striking a bit of a pose.

“King of business. Steve Jobs is quaking. The bulge really sells the whole look,” you teased, scrunching up your nose. He belly laughed at that, a hand moving to his chest as if to brace himself until he moved forward to you, spinning you around a bit so he could press his nose to yours.

“Can’t blame me when you insist on getting ready in a bra and tiny shorts,” he mumbled with a grin, fingers ghosting up your bare sides as if to reiterate his point. 

“I’m enjoying the ethan-has-his-own-bathroom perks of this house, sue me.” His lips brushed against yours just barely as you spoke, so light that it almost tickled. 

“I’m enjoying it too.” He pressed a kiss to your lips gently, a small one. 

“Don’t smear my lipstick bub,” you cautioned nicely, wrapping your arms around his neck. He sighed at that, eye meeting yours and just looking. It was the type of gaze that made your cheeks as warm as your core.

“Bring more so you can fix it later. You’re very kissable right now.”

“And you’re very sappy,” you mused. He always got sentimental on big occasions, excited to make new memories. “And kissable.” You gave in, giving him a quick one, ignoring his attempt to deepen it. “We gotta get ready or we’re gonna be late to your own event.”

“The CEOs have to be a little late, I think it’s customary,” he tried, but you just shook your head, covering his lips with your hand.

“Shave, I gotta do my hair anyways. And I’m probably gonna need your help with my dress.” 

That was enough motivation for him to get on with getting ready. You’d been sneaky, not shown him the dress you’d picked out for the evening. It was your first black tie event that you’d gone to ever, and definitely the first one with him at your side. You wanted to look good next to him, look good in the pictures you knew were going to be taken that he was no doubt going to post and probably print out to add to his photo collection too. It had butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you did your hair the way you liked, keeping it simple and making sure it framed your face.

It took you a little while, and you smiled when Gray wandered back into the bathroom in his suit, bowtie hanging loosely around his neck just as you finished. You let out a low dramatic whistle, breaking it off into a laugh when his cheeks turned your favorite shade of pink. 

“Help.” He walked over to you, lifting his chin up so you could better access his bowtie. You went to tie it immediately - you’d taught yourself last week when he decided to wear one. It made you smile as you recalled the two of you sitting on his bed, him shirtless with just the bowtie around his neck while you practiced, the spitting image of a male stripper from a bachelorette party. You’d been laughing so hard that it took you a ridiculous amount of times to get it. Luckily now you got it on your first try, proud of yourself as you straightened it out.

“Is it dress time?” His eyes flashed a bit when you nodded in response, heading for the closet where your garment bag was waiting. You pulled it out, having to hold your arm up high so that it didn’t pool on the floor as you moved it to the bed. 

Grayson rubbed his hands together in anticipation before he balled them into fists, the full embodiment of a kid on christmas, but in a 6 foot body. 

“You look like you’re gonna combust baby, chill,” you teased, shaking your head as you slipped your shorts off. You felt his eyes on your thong, the smallest one you owned. You still weren’t sure it would work - only one way to find out.

You reached behind yourself and unclipped your bra, letting it fall to the floor before you leaned down to scoop everything up and toss it the laundry. 

“I like where this is going.” His voice had dropped a bit, eyes taking you in from head to toe.

“Oh yeah? Well, get excited,” you teased, reaching into the Target bag on the floor to pull out a few nipple pasties. “These bad boys are coming along for the ride.” You wiggled them around dramatically in the air before you turned to the mirror to put them in place. Grayson watched, entirely unfazed.

“Okay, go stand in the bathroom for a minute,” you instructed, pointing to the door. He balked, eyes going wide.

“What? Why!?”

“Cause, you seeing me wiggle into this thing will ruin the allure. And I like surprises.”

“But I wanna see,” he pouted, giving you the best puppy dog eyes he could muster. You weren’t sure how a 6ft man in a tuxedo could look so soft, but he pulled it off.

“You will see, in like two seconds,” you teased, pushing gently on his chest as he walked backwards towards the bathroom door. He was still pouting when you closed it.

Taking a deep breath you went back over to the garment bag, pulling the zipper of it down to reveal the fabric you hadn’t seen in a while. Just laying there it looked almost innocent... almost. But when you put it on? You’d never felt like such a bad bitch - even in the fittings you’d felt powerful, sexy. 

“Do you have it on yet?” Grayson’s voice was impatient, a bit distorted. He was biting his fingernails, you could tell. 

“No, just gimme a minute,” you laughed, coaxing the dress off the hanger and carefully stepping into it. The fabric was silky but dense, with enough structure to give your body shape and enough flow for it to be flattering. It was a deep purple that reflected in a way that made it almost blue when it caught the light. The cleavage was there, but subtle, and that subtly was made up for with an open back. The material pooled right over the curve of your ass, leaving almost your entire back exposed, held up by the tiny straps over your shoulders.

But once you had it on, you remembered your favorite part, the main reason you’d bought it besides the color. 

The slit.

It was high. So high that it was borderline inappropriate, but still just classy enough. It tapered up at your hip, leaving your entire left leg open to the air. And as you’d feared, the lace line of your thong was visible. 

“Let me see,” Grayson whined from behind the door. You knew if you didn’t give in he was going to come out anyways.

“Alright alright, come in!” You called to him. He wasted no time in getting the door open as you stayed where you were in front of the mirror, trying to figure out what to do about the underwear situation.

“Holy. Fuck.” 

That caught your attention, and you turned to see his face. He was smiling, but his mouth was wide open, jaw slack as he looked you up and down. You expected him to get it together after a few moments, but he just stood there, awestruck, eyes never leaving you. 

And then, to top it off, he finally took in a raspy breath, coughing a little. You opened your mouth to say something, but he held up a finger and moved towards the bed, rummaging around by the bedside table. 

It was a sight you always wanted to remember - him, puffing on his bright red inhaler while standing there in a tux. 

“Wow, that good huh?” You couldn’t help the ego boost that it gave you to see him so undone just from looking at you.

“You got room for this in your bag? Might need it later with you lookin’ like that.” 

You rolled your eyes a bit, but you held your hand out anyways, taking it from him and sitting it down next to your bag. The fabric tape you’d bought peeked out at you and you pulled it out with a sigh. It wasn’t the most comfortable looking stuff, but you didn’t have much of an option.

You moved back in front of the mirror, reaching up to your thong and hooking a finger through it and pulling it down.

“What’re you doing?” His mouth sounded dry as he spoke. 

“It was showing. Can’t wear any with a slit this high.”

“You’re actually trying to kill me.” He watched you step out of them with hooded eyes, which turned to confusion when he watched you open the packaging on the tape. “What’s that?”

“Fabric tape. Keeps everything where it needs to be, ya know?” 

“You can’t just wear the dress?”

“Do you want the entire Wakeheart team to see my vagina tonight?” You laughed, quirking an eyebrow at him in the mirror. He scrunched his nose at that idea, staying quiet while you got everything arranged and taped.

“Okay, tell me if you can see anything.” You spun around slowly, trying out a few different angles with your leg that you might do during a photo. 

“You’re good. I fuckin’ love that dress, it looks perfect on you.”

“Thank you baby. You look pretty fuckin’ hot yourself.” You fixed the collar of his shirt with a smile. He brought his wrist up, checking his watch - his green rolex, of course. 

“Ah shit, we gotta go or we really are gonna be late.”

You just nodded, moving to the box with your new black heels and pulling them out. Grayson held his hand out for them and you handed them over, blushing when as you watched him crouch down and reach for your foot.  

“I can do that you know.”

“I know.” He grinned up at you before he looked back down and guided your foot in, his big fingers giving him a few problems when he got to the tiny clasps on the straps. “These are stupidly tiny.”

“I can get em,” you offered again, but he just waved you off, sticking out his tongue as he focused and finally got the buckle to thread through. The left shoe went easier, even though you had to hold onto his shoulder while you balanced on your right. 

He stood up when his work was done, eyes flashing wide when he looked at you.

“You’re so tall now. That’ll be nice for my back.” The question must have been clear on your face, because he answered it. “Don’t have to bend down to kiss you.” 

“Shut up and put your shoes on,” you laughed, kissing him quickly before moving to check yourself in the mirror one last time - even you had to admit, you looked damn good. Grayson got his Louis shoes on quickly, tying them and coming beside you, phone in hand. He pulled you against him so you both fit in the mirror, posing like you were on a red carpet just for his phone. 

“Turn around.” His voice was gruff, and when you did as you were told you knew why. You couldn’t help it - he took the first picture of just you looking up at him, your back on display. But by the time he snapped the next one, you snaked your hand down, white nails bright against his black pants as you cupped him over the fabric, his bulge already growing. 

“Don’t.” 

He snapped the picture anyways. 

“You sure?” You didn’t have to lean too far to get close to his ear now that you had on heels, and he rolled his neck as he sucked in a breath. His eyes flashed to yours, desperate and angry and wanting all at once. 

His hand fell over yours, pulling you off of him by your wrist. “Later.”

“Promise?” It rolled off your tongue as you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Jesus,” he groaned, the effort he was using to stay put together obvious. He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before he let go. “Yeah, fuckin’ promise.” 

He saved the last picture under my eyes only and put his phone away, taking your hand as you grabbed your bag and followed him out of the room. 

------

“Does my hair still look okay?” You turned to Grayson, a bit nervous that you’d undone all your hard work.

With gentle fingers he fixed a few strays that had come loose. You should have known that they were going to play Cudi the whole way to the venue - it was a Dolan celebration after all. The boys always got hype, and you couldn’t help but join in, dancing along and singing at the top of your lungs. For your mood? Wonderful. But for your look? Maybe not so much.

“You look perfect.”

“Promise?” You quirked an eyebrow, knowing exactly what you were doing and loving every minute of it.

He sat back down in his seat further, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath through his nose. Ethan noticed from the front seat, watching for a moment and then deciding he should probably mind his own business. 

Grayson’s eyes were serious when he turned to you, leaning over so no one else heard your conversation.

“We have photos in like 5 minutes. I’m begging you. Behave.” 

You pondered it for a minute - how many times had he fucked you up, got you turned on in public when there was nothing you could do about it? But there was a sincerity in his eyes and his voice that you couldn’t ignore. 

Did you like being told what to do? No. But for Grayson? You’d do just about anything.

“Fine,” you conceded with a grin, leaning over to give him a quick kiss. “But only cause I want you to be able to post the pictures without your dick showing.”

“How considerate of you,” he rolled his eyes, but it was light hearted. He laced his fingers with yours, thumb running over your skin as his excitement mounted every minute closer you got the venue. You watched out the window as the fancy buildings started to emerge, signaling that you were getting close. Malibu had a more relaxed yet somehow more exclusive vibe than LA, and it had your heart racing.

“You’re gonna be fine, it’s just cameras.” He had somehow sensed your nerves, putting his own aside as he tried to comfort you instead.

“You’ve done this before, of course it’s not scary for you.”

“True. But I’m gonna be with you the whole time, which means you have nothing to worry about,” he countered, almost asking you to challenge him on it. You just nodded, picking up your purse from the floorboard.

“When we get out can you stand in front of me? I don’t wanna accidentally flash anybody.”

“Of course baby. I thought thats what the tape was for though,” he mused.

“Better safe than sorry.”

“We’re here, you guys ready?” Ethan turned from his spot in the passenger seat, excitement written all over his face. He reached back, hand extended to his brother, his partner in all this. You watch them do the handshake they could do in their sleep, a silent communication of excitement and support. 

And then, it was time for the show to really begin. It was a bit of a blur after that, mixtures of adrenaline and nerves. Grayson opened your door, standing tall and broad as you stood up, got your footing and adjusted your dress to make sure all was covered. And then he offered you his arm, prideful grin on his face as he showed you off.

It was a blur after that. You vaguely remembered pausing in front of the backdrop, a simple white with the Wakeheart logo scattered across it. You took a few serious pictures, giving your best sultry look, but mostly you just smiled, so proud of your man for all he worked so hard for.

At one point he stepped back from you, gesturing towards you proudly. It took you a minute to register that the photographers were calling out for you to pose, just you by yourself. You did your best, posing and looking where you were called. 

You only relaxed when Grayson reattached to your side, leading you down the rest of the carpet that stretched up to the venue. You posed for a few with both him and E just for fun, the three of you goofing off and just being yourselves before you made it to the end, the doors open to reveal the inside of the venue. 

“They want some of just E and I, do you wanna wait out here or do you wanna go sit down?” 

“I’ll go sit, save my feet. Have fun!” You kissed him quickly, vaguely aware that a few cameras flashed. You reached up and wiped a tiny bit of lipstick off his lip before letting him go, watching him head back over to his brother. 

You weren’t alone for long - you’d barely made it into the room before Sterling saw you, lighting up and running over to you. She was in a floor length green number, the sparkles on it catching the light from outside.

“Ster! You look amazing!”

“Says you! Holy shit! You rode in with the boys right?” You nodded, starting to look around. “Do you think they’re gonna like everything?”

“Oh they’re gonna love it, for sure.” 

The room was dim, colorful lights all around giving just enough brightness to make it functional without ruining the vibe. It only took you a second to realize that each light was specific; purple, blue and a light orange, just like the Enterlight collection. There were little Wakeheart touches everywhere, from the little mini fragrances on the tables to the logo printed on the name cards at the tables.

“Your all’s table is at the front I think,” Sterling offered, pointing up by the stage. “I gotta go find Daniel, I’ll find you later!” She disappeared to find her boyfriend and you headed in the general direction of the front, weaving through some of the tables.

“Y/N!” 

You turned, lighting up as you realized the call had come from Deon who was beelining for you, the biggest smile on his face.

“De!” was all you could get out before he had you wrapped up in a hug, almost lifting you off the ground. It had been too long since you’d seen him, too long since he’d come by to hang out after the first few times that you’d hit it off. 

“You look hot as hell girl, damn!” He praised, and you blushed so deep that you were sure he could see it, even in those lights. 

“Did Kai get to come?” 

“Yeah, he’s getting us drinks, wanna meet him?”

“Of course! Gotta see what all the hype is about,” you nudged his shoulder, taking his hand as he lead you over to the bar.

Kai was taller than you’d pictured him when Deon had described his boyfriend, but he was beautiful enough for all De’s constant gushing about him to make sense. The introductions went well, and you almost forgot where you were until someone cleared their throat.

“You guys gonna get drinks or what?” The bartender that spoke was a burly guy, too much muscle, and probably too old to be happy as a bartender if his tone and glare said anything about him.

“Oh right, sorry! Just uh, two mules for us. Y/N?” Deon looked at you expectantly.

“A mojito for me please,” you kept up the niceties, trying to stay pleasant. Maybe he was just having a bad night. 

“I hate making those.”

Niceties? Gone. 

“Well then I guess it’s a good thing you’re getting paid.”

“Suppose so,” he grumbled, passing over the two mules to Deon and Kai. They took the gratefully, giving you a little wave before they headed off, so caught up in each other that they didn’t even register the conversation. You stood up a bit taller now that you were by yourself, practically daring him to try something.

“You here by yourself?” 

“No.”

“Don’t see anybody with you.”

“So observant.” You let the annoyance seep into your tone, but you were right in assuming that he was the type of guy who didn’t give a fuck if the women around him were uncomfortable. 

“Where’s your man then? Not a smart one if he’s gonna let you walk around here wearing that by yourself.” The way his eyes raked up and down your form didn’t sit well with you. 

“He’s a bit... occupied. And considering I’m the reason there’s a bar here in the first place tonight, I suggest you watch your mouth and make the drinks before the CEO changes his mind.” 

“What she said.” 

You’d know that voice and the hand that slid dangerously low across your back anywhere. Apparently, the event planners must have shown the workers who the whole party was for, because the man behind the bar changed his tune immediately.

“Mr. Dolan,” he greeted, so serious that is almost made you laugh. “Can I get you anything sir?”

“You can get my girl what she asked for, and you can watch your mouth. That’ll be all.” 

You weren’t sure how a guy the size of the bartender could look sheepish, but he managed it as he handed over your mojito. 

“Thanks! Have a great night!” You hoped your insincerity was blatant enough as you took your drink and waved back to him, letting Grayson’s hand guide you as you turned around. 

“Hi baby, how were the rest of your pictures?” You asked as you walked to the table, chasing your straw with your tongue for a moment before taking a sip. 

Grayson just shook his head at you. “You’re perfect, you know that?”

You shrugged, enjoying the compliment and lifting up to kiss his cheek in thanks. He pulled your chair out for you before you sat down, settling beside you. As you expected, he was a hot commodity, a stream of people coming up to the table to give their congratulations. It only got more constant when Ethan found his seat on the other side of Grayson, everyone making sure they got their moment with the boys. 

Grayson was fully engaged, and you did your best to listen, focus on what he was saying, accepting the little nods of acknowledgement everyone was giving you.

But you were much more focused on the way Grayson’s hand was reached back so he could keep a hand on your thigh, his diamond ring cold against your skin as he squeezed every once in a while -  a little reminder that he appreciated you being there with him. 

It was innocent enough - but the mixture of him in that suit, the professional tenor of his tone, the lights, the fact that his hand was big enough to cover all the way across your thigh. You couldn’t help it - you shifted your legs just barely, only then realizing just how wet you were. 

It was wishful thinking that he didn’t notice. And of course, right at that moment there was a lull in the congratulations. He turned back to you, a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Come with me, I wanna show you something.” 

You smoothed out your dress when you stood up, hoping your skin didn’t look as flushed as it felt. 

“Hey. We gotta talk at 8. Don’t leave me hanging.” Ethan’s tone was all too knowing, and if you hadn’t already been blushing you would have when he fist bumped his brother. 

You took Grayson’s hand, his Rolex cool against your wrist as he lead you out of the event room, down a small hallway and to an elevator. He hit the button labeled R, and you both waited as patiently as you could. As soon as the doors were closed he was on you, both hands on your face, thumbs over your jaw as he pulled you to him. 

You melted into him, molding to his form, whimpering when his right hand traced down your back, crossed over and tucked under the fabric of your dress, fingers ghosting over your bare hip. 

“Fuck, forgot you ditched the panties,” he groaned, turning in annoyance as the doors dinged and opened. 

There were very few things that could have pulled your attention away from Grayson at that moment - the view was one of them.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, looking out at the rooftop that the elevator had brought you to. It was a garden of sorts, lots of greenery and flowers all around. But the real stunner was the view over the ocean, a perfect Malibu beach stretching out, visible even in the dim twilight that had settled over the sky while you’d been inside. 

“Figured you’d like it up here. And it’s private.”

You turned around, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Private.” You swallowed around the word as he came closer to you, pulling you in for another kiss. This time you got your piece, hands coming up to his neck, searching out any skin you could find over his collar. He one upped you, both hands moving down your back, under your dress and over your ass, squeezing and massaging as he reached further, getting dangerously close to where you needed him most. 

“We can’t, Gray we can’t.” Your words didn’t match your actions, whole body jolting when his hands moved out of your dress, right hand resting on your hip from the front now, the slit just making it that much easier for him to gain access. 

“Why not?” He mused, kissing along your neck. 

“Cause we can’t go back down there looking fucked out. We’ll be home in a few hours.” There wasn’t even a flicker of conviction in your voice, and he just shook his head, unwilling to hear it.

“Can’t. Got me fucked up down there, calling me CEO and shit, hyping me up to that piece of shit. Don’t think I’m gonna make it home without at least a taste.” His hand traced left, ducking under your dress. You gasped as the tape peeled off your skin, leaving you vulnerable. 

“Fuck Gray,” you whimpered as his hand cupped over you, your knees buckling underneath you at the feeling of his fingers sliding through your slick. 

He groaned at what he found, other hand coming up to the back of your head, chasing your lips with his as you gasped when he started to move. 

“Just hold onto me baby, I got you.” His voice was deep in your ear as you clung to him, his arm wedged between both of your torsos as he worked you over. But just when you were really getting there, legs shaking, he pulled away, leaving you exposed and cold in the evening air.

You were about to complain, but the look he gave you told you he was far from done.  

“You’re on watch.” His voice and the wink he threw you had your already weak knees about ready to give out as he sunk down, moving your dress away like a curtain.

He pressed a sweet kiss to your hip before he ducked down, holding onto your thighs as he dove in with a wide tongue, finally getting what he’d been waiting for. And even if he hadn’t told you to you would have been bracing yourself on his shoulders.

“I like these heels,” he murmured when he pulled back for air. “Gets me a better angle.”

“Fuck, Grayson.” Something about you using his full name had him diving back in with a vengeance, tongue rough and active, only pausing to suck on you in the most delicious way. 

Your eyes rolled back, hands finding his hair, not caring if you messed it up as you held on, twitching a bit as he hummed at the feeling of your nails on his scalp. You forced yourself to focus, watching the door to make sure no one wandered up to the roof, found the star of the whole affair buried in your pussy.

But something else caught your eye - a little clock, number shining blue.

7:58pm

“Gray, G-Grayson, stop, stop it’s almost 8, you have to - fuck - you have to go,” you warned, but you couldn’t bring yourself to pull him away from you. 

“Gotta keep my promise first,” he said, only speeding up, knowing you were close from your breathy tone and your quivering thighs. Sure enough, all he had to do was add his finger and you were completely undone, calling out his name and bracing on his shoulder so you didn’t collapse. 

He stood back up with a triumphant grin, ego booming as you just stared at him, working through the aftershocks. He checked his watch and clenched his teeth, giving you a nervous look.

“Hell yeah, one minute to spare. Take the elevator.” He pressed a wet kiss to your cheek and jogged off, leaving you panting and alone as he disappeared down the staircase. 

“Jesus christ,” you huffed, trying to walk forward on your wobbly legs as quickly as you could, doing your best to pull yourself together. It was all deep breaths and attempts to ignore the wetness on your thighs in the elevator ride as you tried to re-stick the fabric tape with no luck.

The only reason you didn’t go to the bathroom to get yourself re-situated was because you didn’t want to miss the boys speech. So you quickly made your way to your seat, sipping on your drink to try and cool yourself down while you watched Ethan attempt to fix Grayson’s hair at the side of the stage. Oops.

They walked up eventually, waving and acting as humble as ever while the room applauded them. Grayson looked entirely unfazed, as if he hadn’t just been nose deep in your pussy 60 seconds ago. You tried to manifest the same energy, pretend like you weren’t still practically dripping sitting there in your dress. 

But when he looked right at you and swiped his thumb across his bottom lip, wiping away what you knew was you? You clenched around nothing, biting down on your straw. 

It was going to be a long rest of the night. 

They thanked everyone for coming, and for all the support of the brand over the last year. They shouted out everyone on the team, giving them the praises they deserved. Grayson slipped in a little moment for you, a “thank you to my amazing girlfriend who always smells every sample I bring home and isn’t afraid to give her honest opinion, and who keeps me sane and supports me through every step of everything I do” that had your cheeks burning as all the eyes in the room sought you out. 

When they were done he wasted no time in putting his hand right back on your thigh as soon as he sat down, smirking a bit when he wrapped around and found just a trace of wetness.

“Easy. My tape won’t re-stick,” you warned, not wanting him to get too frisky and accidentally move your dress. 

“Guess you’ll just have to stay close to me then huh,” he mused, leaning in for a kiss that you gave him happily. 

The rest of the night went smoothly, from the meal to the social hour afterwards. You stayed on Grayson’s arm, right where he wanted you as he made his rounds, made sure he spoke to the executives that he and Ethan had invited, got the advice he’d wanted to ask about. 

Before you knew it midnight had come and gone.

“You ready to get out of here baby?” 

“Hell yeah.”

Perks of dating a 20 year old CEO? He has his own driver when he wants it. But to your surprise, the man who drove the three of you there handed him keys instead of leading you to a car. 

“Had em drop off the porsche in case we wanted to ditch early and Ethan didn’t.” He answered the question he knew you had, leading you to the familiar blue car that was waiting on the side of the street. 

“Always the planner,” you teased, squeezing his arm before he opened your door for you and helped you in. 

“I do run a company you know,” he mused, leaning down to kiss you one more time before he picked up the rest of your dress and put it in the car so it didn’t get closed into the door.

You watched his every move as he went around the front of the car and climbed into the drivers seat, starting it up and revving it up once just for good measure. 

As soon as he pulled out of the spot you were leaning down to unclasp your heels, groaning in relief when your feet were freed.

“Better?” 

“So much better,” you sighed, relaxing back in your seat as he plugged the rental address into the GPS and started down the road. 

“Those shoes have their perks for sure. Sorry they hurt you though.” He palmed the wheel as he turned and you bit your lip, remembering exactly what perks he was talking about.

Now it was his turn.

You reached over, hand resting on his thigh, nails digging in just barely. He twitched, foot pressing a bit on the gas, lurching the car forward.

“Easy baby,” you cautioned, turning in your seat so you were facing him, fingers tracing up further, gauging his reaction.

“What’re you doing,” he asked as if he didn’t know, eyes trained forward on the road. 

“Keeping promises,” you mused. “Got me fucked up back there.” 

He sucked in a breath through his teeth as you repeated his words from earlier, unbuckling his belt and pushing it out of the way as you spoke. 

“Yeah? How’d I get you so fucked up baby. Tell me.” 

“You know exactly what you did,” you reminded him, popping the button open with your nail, coaxing the zipper down to reveal his Calvin Klein briefs that were already getting stretched as he got harder and harder.

“Wanna hear you say it,” he grunted, knuckles white on the steering wheel. 

“Could barely walk to the elevator when you ran off, my legs were all wobbly. Made me feel so good,” you explained, stroking his ego and his bulge simultaneously.

“Fuck yeah they were, and you still made it down for my speech.” You reached up under his waistband, pulling his underwear down enough for you to get your hand around him. His hip stuttered as you started to work him over like only you could. 

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you hummed, using your thumb to trace the vein on the side of his shaft, up over the tip with just enough pressure to really fuck him up. 

“Shit baby. Just like that.”

You did as he said, twisting your wrist over him as he grew in your hand. When your knuckles grazed over his balls the porsche jolted again, making you grin.

“Careful. Can’t fuck you if we don’t make it home.”

“If you weren’t so fucking horny we wouldn’t have a problem,” he huffed, looking at his phone to check the ETA. 2 more minutes. 

“Can’t help it. You in a suit just gets to me,” you admitted, batting your eyelashes a bit just for fun. You didn’t count on him dropping his right hand from the wheel and reaching over to you, shoving your dress to the side and immediately cupping over your already sensitive folds. You jolted in your seat, squeezing his dick in your hand. 

Two could play that game. With a wicked grin, you shifted, closing your legs so he couldn’t reach you and leaning forward, dropping your head.

Before you could get very far his hand was in your hair, pulling your head back up so you had to look at him.

“Wait.” 

You swallowed hard and nodded at his command, sinking back into your seat as he pulled the porsche into the driveway, typing in the gate code, fingers drumming on the wheel while he waited for them to open. He pushed the gear shift forward into park as soon as he stopped, looking over to you.

“Wait.” He said again, opening his door and readjusting himself back into his pants before he came around to your side of the car. He opened your door sweetly, offering you a hand.

As soon as you were on your feet he was crouching, shoulder hitting your hips before he grabbed and lifted, practically throwing you over his shoulder.

You squealed, trying to find purchase against his back, hands balling up his suit jacket in an attempt to hold on. He was unfazed, even taking one hand off you to unlock the door. 

By the time he made it to your alls room on the top floor you’d gone limp, knowing there was no point in fighting him. You missed his face while you couldn’t see it, smiling when he leaned forward at the edge of the bed, let you fall on top of the comforter, bouncing slightly. 

“Dress on or off?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow.

He pondered it for a minute, eyes darkening as he imagined both scenarios, played them out in his head.

“Off,” he decided. You nodded, standing up and pulling one of the straps off over your shoulder. His fingers found the other before you could, pulling it off so that the top of your dress fell down, revealing your breasts. You looked down with a laugh, almost forgetting about the nipple pasties you’d put on. 

He cupped them anyways, thumbs running over the little petal shaped cut outs, the muffled sensation of his fingers on your nipples making your back arch, asking for more. He was gentle as he peeled them away, not wanting to hurt you, ducking down to kiss each one when they were free. 

You ran your fingers through his hair as he licked over them, kissing his way across. Your dress continued to fall down, gathering at your hips until his hands found it and pushed it the rest of the way off.

“Much better,” he grinned, guiding you back until you fell on your back again.

It was quite the show, watching him strip out of his suit in front of you. He started with the jacket, tossing it away without a care before he started working at his bowtie. 

You couldn’t resist - you sat up, untucked his shirt from his pants, hastily fumbling over the buttons, pausing to run your hands over his abs as soon as you saw them. He groaned at that, especially when you leaned forward to kiss his warm skin. He got the tie off somehow, working from the top button and meeting you halfway before pulling it off. Just him shirtless in those fucking pants was enough to have you fully worked up again, and you laid back down, watching him pull his belt off through the loops, undo his button and pull everything down at once. 

Your mouth watered, ready for him, but to your surprise he crawled on top of you, resting just enough weight down to pin you to the bed. He was beaming as he looked down at you for a few moments, just taking you in.

You reached up to cup his face, pulling him down to kiss you, surprised but warm nonetheless at his sudden change of mood.

“I love you,” he murmured against your lips.

“I love you too.” There was no question. “Proud of you.” 

“Couldn’t have done it without you.” He pulled back, readjusting so he could line up. You opened your legs a bit wider to make room for him, anticipation mounting as he rubbed himself over your folds for a few strokes. His lips found your forehead as he finally pushed in, stretching you out as he slowly let you adjust to all he had to give.

“So fuckin tight for me, every time baby, fuck,” he huffed out, sinking down further onto you. If you had room to, your back would have arched as you drug your nails over his arms, overwhelmed at how deep he already was. 

He dropped to his forearms, rocking above you so hard that your whole body moved across the bed with each thrust. You clung to him, arms moving around him, scratching at his lower back.

You couldn’t even form words, the only things falling from your lips being his name and a constant stream of whimpers, punctuating each drive he made into your heat. Every time he pulled out his tip ran across that spot deep inside you that had you squirming, body unsure of whether you wanted to run away or get closer, overwhelmed by the force of the sensation. 

He knew you were close when you started to clench around him, walls fluttering in a way that pushed him towards the edge like nothing else ever could. 

When your orgasm came, it was almost too much. You cried out, clinging to Grayson as he continued to pound into you without mercy, only spurred on when you bit onto his shoulder, riding it out before your body went limp for a moment, completely fucked out.

“Almost there baby, fuck,” he groaned, sitting up and grabbing your hips with both hands, holding you up as he chased his high, lost in you entirely. “Want your mouth.” 

Somehow in your blissed out state you managed to sit up enough for him to get close enough to you and your waiting tongue. It only took a few quick strokes before he was cumming, hips stuttering as he unloaded into your mouth. You found the energy to suck him dry, taking all he had to give before he guided you off, much too sensitive for you to keep going. 

He laid down beside you, rolling to his right to find your hips and pull you on top of him. Neither of you moved a muscle for a few minutes, just trying to get your breathing under control and your heart rate back down to an acceptable rate. When you finally got enough energy back you made your way up to his face, catching him with soft and lazy kisses over his lipstick stained lips, drinking each other in. 

You knew that the pictures would run tomorrow, and your faces would be everywhere. You could see all the headlines about Grayson in your mind: CEO, youtuber, famous, heartthrob; every girl that saw him in that suit would be just as enthralled as you had been. But none of it mattered. Because they didn’t get your Grayson, the Grayson who picked you up and carried you to the shower twenty minutes post fuck, helped you take your makeup off and made you laugh until your stomach hurt when he washed his hair and spiked it up in a soapy mohawk like a six year old. That was your Grayson; your CEO, your heartthrob, for the rest of your fucking life. You relished in the thought as you curled up to him that night, loving the weight of his arms around you as you drifted off. 

[chilligyu]

info: im jaebum/reader, teen+, strangers to lovers au genre: soft angst, romance | word ct: 5.1k warnings: suggestive themes summary: for years, jaebum tried to forget the woman who broke his heart. little did he know that she wasn’t so easily forgotten, and that her face would haunt him at every turn. note: so I started this three years ago after listening to got7′s face for the first time and I’ve been editing it and forgetting it ever since. lol maybe someone will enjoy it

“Jaebum, I’m sorry.”

Okay.

“I really am.”

Okay.

“Please understand—”

Okay.

“Jae? Don’t just stand there.”

Okay.

“Please—please say something!”

Like what?

Jaebum didn’t know what she expected him to say, not after that. After she ripped out his heart.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

She just stood there in the doorway, bag in hand, waiting for his response with tears in her eyes. He knew she was trying to stay strong, he could see her lip trembling as she held it between her teeth. How long would she wait there? How long would she bat her eyelashes at him innocently waiting for him to make it all okay? What did she even want from him? Forgiveness? Reassurance? Did she think that somehow an apology would make their breakup hurt any less?

“Goodbye, Seohyun.” He forced out through clenched teeth. “Thanks for everything.”

“Wait—Jaebum—!”

Closing the door on both her and their three year relationship, Jaebum couldn’t remember what he did next. He couldn’t remember clawing every photograph off the walls, he couldn’t remember how his fingers stung as they dug into the plaster. He couldn’t recall pulling every plate from their cabinets, he couldn’t recall how his feet bled when he stepped on the broken porcelain. He couldn’t recollect how much he hated the man who stared at him in the mirror, he couldn’t recollect how his fist destroyed the glass and how it finally reflected how he felt inside.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

That was over a year ago. And it felt like an eternity to him. Looking at himself now, suit neatly pressed, shoes freshly shined, he didn’t see any semblance of the man from that night. After he destroyed everything that reminded him of her, as he saw the pictures of happier times reduced to embers in the fireplace, he made himself a promise. He swore that he would never let anyone ruin him so completely ever again. Steeling his heart and caging it in ice, he wouldn’t even give them the chance.

Never again.

“Jae?” Jinyoung inquired, knuckles rasping against Jaebum’s door. “We’re heading out for drinks, want to come with?”

He didn’t even look up from the reports he was filing. “Can’t. I’m busy.”

Jinyoung crossed his arms. “Shocker. You’re always busy.”

“That comes with being the boss.” Jaebum countered easily.

Rolling his eyes, Jinyoung leaned against the doorframe. “C’mon, Jae, just pretend you’re a regular guy and not an office robot for a couple of hours. Would it hurt to have a little fun?”

“Maybe. Socializing is against my programming.” Jaebum teased in a robot voice. “I cannot acquiesce to your request.”

“Dammit Jae.” Jinyoung sighed in disbelief. “Your humor is wasted in this tiny little room. Go out with us. Free yourself from the confines of this dastardly place. One night with the guys isn’t going to kill you. And if it does, I’ll buy lunch for a week. Scouts honor.”

Jaebum snickered quietly. “Alright, if it gets you to shut up I’ll go out for a couple of hours.”

“And do a couple of shots?” Jinyoung pressed hopefully.

“Don’t push your luck, Jin.” Jaebum chastised him, leering over his glasses. “I’ll have a glass of wine and that’s it.”

“I’ll take it.” Jinyoung shrugged. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. You want to catch a ride with me?”

Pursing his lips, Jaebum shook his head. “I’ve got to turn these in before I go. I’ll meet you there if you text me the address.”

Jinyoung narrowed his eyes at his friend suspiciously. “I swear to God, Jae, if you flake on us I’m going to come back here and kick your sorry ass.”

“Like you could take me.” Jaebum smirked. “Just go, I’ll be there soon. Promise.”

Jinyoung didn’t relent, his head dragging as he headed towards his own office. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Im Jaebum. You’re not going to fool me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Jaebum informed him. “But if you keep bothering me I’m going to magically find a stack of financial statements that need to be filed. And who better to file them than my good buddy Park Jinyoung—”

“See you there!” Jinyoung interrupted, dashing down the hall like his heels were on fire. “I’ll text you!”

Chuckling at the expense of his friend, Jaebum leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against his leg. He couldn’t remember the last time he went out just to go out. It had been too long since he was desperate for the numbing sensation of alcohol pulsing through his veins to simply function normally. The last time he could remember drinking he couldn’t recall anything that happened after. Not until he woke up in some woman’s bed that he didn’t bother to learn the name of. He wanted to feel bad, or at least some part of him did. Because she wasn’t the first, and she most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Not tonight. He decided. Not this time.

When his phone lit up, a text message from Jinyoung waiting for him impatiently, Jaebum quickly got to work. As much as he tried to keep his stoic face in front of his friend, he needed to get out of the office. If he had to read another poorly written report littered with inaccuracies and spelling errors, he was going to lose his mind. Jinyoung’s offer could not have come soon enough.

By the time he was done, the sun was already starting to set. Cursing underneath his breath, Jaebum grabbed his coat and bolted out the door. Opting to take the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, he checked the bus schedule while tugging on his gloves. Jinyoung had already been at the bar much longer than he’d like, meaning that Jaebum wasn’t going to get out of the night unscathed. Lucky for him he was always prepared for such occasions. The bottle of aspirin in his desk drawer and him were about to be fast friends.

“Jae!” Jinyoung screamed through the phone. “Where are you!”

Jaebum groaned loudly as he made it out to the street. “I’m sorry, I’m still at the office. But I’m leaving now, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“You better be!” Jinyoung continued. “Because I’ll—I’ll kick your ass if you’re not!”

“Shut up Jinyoung, you’re drunk.” He muttered, ending the call and stuffing his phone in his pocket.

Wrapping his scarf around his neck, Jaebum walked briskly to the bus station just down the block. Instantly regretting turning down Jinyoung’s offer for a ride when the cold winter air pelted his skin. Opening his eyes even the slightest caused his eyes to water, each step he took sent a chill down his spine, frost nipped at the tips of his ears, he could barely stand it.

As he waited less than patiently, Jaebum found himself watching the people that passed him. An elderly woman wearing a mismatched set of mittens, a small dog in a boorish sweater jogging along beside her. Two school boys fussing over a handheld video game, laughing jovially despite their harsh words. A young couple walking hand in hand, their eyes filled with affection and warmth, leaving Jaebum with a foul taste in his mouth.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

Lighting a cigarette, he did his best not to think about Seohyun. About how she left him on a night just like this. How each kiss on her eager lips tasted like lies. How her brown eyes hollowed out his very soul. And how each promise she made cut him like knives. Jaebum had been trying to erase her from his life for a whole year. But no matter how much he drank, or how many women he kissed, he could still taste her on his tongue.

Even cigarettes do nothing to mask her taste. He mused, inhaling deeply and savoring the tobacco that filled his lungs.

When the bus pulled up to the curb, Jaebum dropped his unfinished cigarette in the street. Sighing, he tapped his foot impatiently as the doors opened and people spilled out onto the sidewalk. He had completely forgotten how cramped public transport could get during the winter. Another reason why he hated the desolate season. And Jinyoung’s persistent drunken text messages and calls weren’t helping his rapidly souring mood.

“What is it now, Jinyoung?” Jaebum exasperated, getting on the bus and swiping his card.

“Do you know that fish cake shop by the bar?” Jinyoung asked sluggishly. “The one that I really really like?”

Jaebum pinched the bridge of his nose as he found a seat at the back of the bus. “No, I do not. But I take it you want me to stop there?”

“Yeeeesss.” He dragged out. “I’m dying for a good fish cake.”

Sometimes I wonder how we’re friends. “Alright, fine, I’ll get you your stupid fish cake. How far away from the bar is the shop?”

“Not far at all!” Jinyoung exclaimed. “Just down the street a ways, you can’t miss it! Thanks Jae! You’re the best!”

Beep beep beep.

Pocketing his phone, Jaebum did his best not to let the night get away from him. He had to keep reminding himself that all of his problems could easily be solved with the bottle of scotch that was waiting at the bar. Jinyoung owed him, and getting free drinks out of him while he was drunk was an easy task for Jaebum. All of that was worth the annoying errands that his best friend was infamous for sending him on.

There’s a scotch on the rocks waiting for you. He told himself over and over again. Do it for the scotch. Scotch can get you through anything.

“Now approaching, Namdaemun Market. Thank you for choosing Seoul Public Transportation, have a nice day.”

As the bus rolled to a complete stop, Jaebum quickly stood and waited for the doors to open. Shouldering past the new borders, he apologized quietly, thankful to finally be off the cramped bus and back out on the street. Even if it was a bit colder than he remembered. Shivering, he pulled his lapel taught over his face, scanning his surroundings for the fish cake shop he was supposed to visit. What he found instead was a ghost from his past. A ghost with hair as black as the hole she gouged into his chest.

Seohyun? He swallowed nervously, his palms sweating despite the brisk December air. Is it really her? Please—please tell me that I’m seeing things.

It had to be her, he knew it deep down inside. He knew by the way his heart stopped, how his stomach sank, that it couldn’t be anyone else. But—his mind wasn’t so easily convinced. How could it be her? How could Lee Seohyun be standing right in front of him? Just as beautiful as the day she ripped out his heart without a care in the world. Waiting outside an electronics kiosk, a lollipop stick protruding from her perfect cherry red lips and a guitar slung over her shoulder as if—

A guitar? Jaebum questioned. Since when does Seohyun know how to—

Realization dawned on Jaebum almost instantly. His eyes were playing tricks on him, like they had so many times before. It wasn’t Seohyun, it would never be Seohyun. No matter how much a small miniscule part of him still wanted her back in his arms, she never would be his. The woman before him was simply his projection of something he would never have. Underneath his breath, Jaebum cursed himself for being hung up on her after all this time.

Still, his gaze didn’t waver as he watched the Seohyun look alike walk down the street. The resemblance was uncanny, had he been intoxicated he would’ve surely mistaken her for Seohyun. She even walked like her. The way her hips swayed—Jaebum couldn’t bring himself to look away. She was beautiful, breathtaking, mysterious, entrancing, the same dangerous formula that Jaebum became addicted to so easily.

For a brief moment, he couldn’t find the differences between them. From the way her dark hair fell languidly over her shoulders, the way her lips twitched into a hesitant smile, how her eyes glistened with a palpable passion. It was almost as if he was looking at a direct reflection of a memory. One he would’ve preferred to remain lost to time.

I need to get to this fish cake shop. Jaebum reminded himself. More importantly, I need to get the hell out of here.

Gathering his runaway thoughts, he started down the busy street, doing his best to avoid the mysterious woman. She was a reminder that he couldn’t afford to fall back into the hole that Seohyun cast him into. The man that loved Seohyun wasn’t one that Jaebum admired. In fact, he was a man that Jaebum tried time and time again to erase. And, until that exact moment, he thought he was doing a fair job of it.

“Get your fish cakes here! Best around!”

Jaebum’s ears perked up at the shouting vendor, appreciating the distraction more than he cared to admit. Besides, his head was in a complete haze ever since he spotted that woman. He wouldn’t have been able to find the shop on his own even if he ran right into the door. Which he practically did. The control Seohyun still had over him terrified him to no end. And he had only seen a woman who looked like her, it wasn’t even her. He shuttered to imagine what would’ve happened if she was really there. Whispering in his ear, her hands gliding up his body, the curves of her body beneath him—

“Jaebum…”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Jaebum willed her husky voice away. The shivers that travelled down his spine—he had to ignore them. He had to get away from her. Ducking into the shop, he quickly purchased the fish cakes and left without a word to the clerk. He feared his own voice, feared how it would betray him. The only thing that mattered to him was getting to the bar and as far away from her as possible.

Without really paying attention to where he was going, Jaebum shouldered past someone and sent them stumbling backwards. Unconsciously, he reached out to steady them, taking hold of their wrist and pulling them in close to him before realizing who it was. It was her. Her. Her slender wrists were within his grasp, her dark eyes looked up at him in surprise, and coherent thought evaded him.

“Thanks!” She exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “I really should look where I’m going.”

At that close distance she looked even more like Seohyun. Jaebum didn’t think it was physically possible, but the proof was right in front of him. The scent of her perfume filled his senses, taking him back to a time when her fragrance was the only thing between them. He tried to swallow past the lump in his throat, he tried to respond, he tried to say anything that could distract himself from her lips. Her perfectly shaped cherry red lips…

Brushing her hair over her shoulder, she offered him a dangerous look. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

Jaebum never made it to the bar that night.

He woke up the next morning tangled in sheets that weren’t his own. Lying beside him was the woman who unknowingly unravelled every effort he had made to forget about Seohyun. She made him painfully aware that his previous beliefs were nothing more than optimistic delusions. Jaebum hadn’t moved past her, not even in the slightest. He wasn’t sure if he ever would.

As was customary after every one night stand he stumbled into, he quickly pulled his clothes back on and quietly left her apartment without bothering to wake her. He called for a taxi, pointedly ignoring all of the angry texts and numerous voicemails left by Jinyoung as he made his way home. Jaebum wasn’t in the mood to explain himself. Ironically enough, all he wanted to do was drink. He settled for a silent ride through the city that was supposed to save him from himself, but he was beyond saving.

Days passed and he couldn’t shake the memory of Seohyun’s lookalike beneath him. She was a rarity, an anomaly that wandered into his life without any sort of warning. And as easily as she traipsed through his thoughts, she was gone. Frankly that was his own fault, he did it for his own good but it didn’t matter to him. He wanted her, he wanted more, his body ached for her in a way that was all too familiar. He sat at his desk, fists clenched in rage, hating himself for falling back into his old ways. All he wanted was a life without Seohyun, he wasn’t sure it was possible anymore.

At first, he was determined to stay away from her. He willed his thoughts and memories to the back of his mind, trying to get on with his life once more. But it wasn’t so simple. He found himself back on that street corner without realizing how he got there just a few nights later. Diligently looking for the cherry red lips that stained his own and drove him wild.

He would always find his way back to her.

“Did you miss me?”

She came up beside him with a coy smirk, she already knew his answer.

“Still not much of a talker, are you?”

Soon after they would wind up in bed again, as it was slowly becoming their routine. Jaebum had never felt more connected to a complete stranger, someone who could’ve easily gone through life without ever meeting him. He had Seohyun back, in some way. Like a ghost from the past letting him have one last glance at what could’ve been. He could’ve been happy, he was happy. Now he didn’t know what he was. All he knew was her because that was all he wanted to know. And he wanted to know more. 

On the first day he learned her lips, on the second day he learned her name.

On the third day she learned his.

“Jae...” She breathed beneath him, desperate for him as he was for her. “Please…”

He loved how she said his name. It pained him that he couldn’t say hers.

“Jae.” She tested on her tongue. “You called me Seohyun again.”

He watched absentmindedly as her delicate fingers dusted over his skin, offering nothing more than a quiet, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” She mused. “I just need to know, someone you’re running from or running to?”

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

“Both.”

She visibly winced at his honesty. “Well, I hope I can help with that a little.”

And she did. Her lips pressed against his jaw as her hand slid down his abdomen, he hissed in response and took her in his arms. She was—magic. The second his mind would be occupied by thoughts of Seohyun she would pull him in with her own hypnotic gaze, letting him forget about the woman that brought them together in the first place. It didn’t last for long, but the reprieve was appreciated nevertheless.

On the fourth day he called her Seohyun again. The fifth day was the same.

On the sixth day he said her name and she smiled.

He lost track of the days after that.

The moment their relationship stopped being casual and became something more wasn’t entirely obvious to Jaebum. One day he simply woke up and instead of hoping to see her again soon he decided that soon wasn’t enough. They started to see each other every single day, some of those days didn’t end up in bed either. Maybe that’s when he noticed that she was more to him than he originally intended. Maybe that’s when he knew he was doomed to be in love with Seohyun for the rest of his life. Forever seeking her out in the woman he had hoped would make him forget.

One morning when she was gathering her things, giving Jaebum the space he had so foolishly convinced himself he needed, he asked her to stay. So she stayed. He couldn’t ever remember things with Seohyun being so simple. Seohyun was a woman that made Jaebum fight for every inch, beg for every moment, he was addicted to her and didn’t realize how quickly she was killing him. While he didn’t want to admit it, the moment she left him was probably the kindest thing she had ever done.

But she was perfect and he still loved her.

He hated himself, as he spent more time with her and could only see Seohyun in her eyes, he hated himself. He had hoped that they would separate, that he would see her for her and not for the woman he hated and loved all at once. Because she was perfect just as Seohyun was, all he had to do was wait for the inevitable. Either he would get fed up with her or she would realize the truth. She would learn that she was a replacement for someone that wasn’t worth replacing. Someone he evidently couldn’t let go.

“You look like you have a lot on your mind.” She whispered, dusting her fingers over his arm. “Do you want to talk about it?”

What hurt him most, was that she loved him. She loved him. Not some version of him that only existed as a ghost in her mind, as a lie she couldn’t give up. She loved him for exactly who he was. A man who looked at her and saw another, who reached for her everyday, who was haunted by a touch that was forever ingrained in his skin. He was disgusted by the man she loved, by himself. But if he ever told her the truth, he knew it would break her heart.

Break her like Seohyun destroyed him.

And then she would be gone.

So he would continue to lie to her, betray her no matter how much his own words tore him up inside. A sensation that was all too familiar, one he knew better than most after knowing Seohyun for as long as he did. Ironically, he was just like her. Selfish to the very end. 

“I’m alright.” He lied easily as always.

Except she wasn’t convinced, not in the slightest. She had never been convinced of his lies, he could tell just by looking at her that she was enduring his facade as much as he was. Pretending to be fooled so they could continue in blissful ignorance. Because she knew his heart better than even he did, a heart that had long since been locked away. Because she loved him despite everything that he was. And everything that he wasn’t.

It was close to their anniversary when he decided that enough was enough. She had introduced him to her friends, her parents, and he had done the same. Their lives had become intertwined to a point that severing their ties could only result in a catastrophic mess. He had to come clean, he had to put his heart at ease and end the nightmare he almost believed was a dream. He had to let Seohyun go, he had to let her go. Once and for all he had to free himself from her grasp and break a heart that belonged to a woman whose only mistake was running into a man in a fish cake shop.

“I don’t love you anymore, Jaebum. I’m sorry.”

His heart ached as he thought about that day, hated how much his own actions would soon imitate that very moment. Looking at someone who loved you with everything that they had and telling them that it was all over. That you never loved them. That everything was a lie. That you were nothing but a monster.

God I need a drink.

So to put a bit of distance between them, to gather his thoughts, he went to the bar that technically started it all. He ordered his usual drink, he pretended to watch a game that didn’t interest him, and he sat in silence as the moments ticked by. Every now and again the bartender would try to strike up a conversation, but after being ignored for the fifth time he finally gave up. Jaebum wasn’t in the mood to pretend to be a decent human being, it was taking every concerted effort he could afford to keep himself from falling apart at the seams.

And despite the fact that he had been sitting at the bar with two fingers of scotch in front of him for nearly an hour, he had yet to take a single sip. He kept swirling it in his hand instead, using it more as a distraction from his rampant thoughts than a means to soothe his agitated nerves. As much as he wanted to get the whole ordeal over with, he couldn’t get drunk. He had been selfish enough in the past year, he had to endure the next few hours sober because she deserved more than what she was given. She deserved more respect than he had ever offered her. And he deserved the misery he was destined for.

Once a couple of hours had passed, he decided it was time to face her. She would be starting dinner soon and he didn’t want her to waste her time. Not when he was going to be effectively kicking her out of his life forever. With a sigh, he put on his jacket to leave and pushed his untouched drink back towards the bartender. Then, a young woman took a seat beside him.

“Why don’t you let me join you for a drink?” She hummed seductively. “You’re looking a little stressed.”

 For fucks sake. “Thanks, but no thanks.” He returned without looking at her. “I’ve got better things to do.”

Apparently she wasn’t giving up so easily. “Is that anyway to talk to a pretty girl like me?”

Glancing at her, he wasn’t impressed. “Sorry, but I have somewhere I need to be. Drink by yourself if you’re so inclined.”

As he stood to leave, she took a firm grasp of his arm. “Jaebum? Are you seriously going to ignore me? Are you really that cruel?”

He rolled his eyes at her continued pathetic attempts. “You even learned my name, wow. How long have you been watching me?”

Turning back to look at her, he realized there was something familiar about her. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. But that didn’t matter to him.

“Seriously, I’m not on the market.” He persisted. “Good day.”

“Jaebum!” She shouted in disbelief. “Do you seriously not recognize me? We dated for three fucking years, I feel like I’m owed more than a cold shoulder. Or are you the complete asshole you’ve always been?”

A chill ran down his spine.

“Don’t just stand there!”

No… it—it can’t be… that voice... 

“Say something!”

Seohyun?

Realization dawned on him, stomach acid rose in his throat. It had to be her, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind after hearing her say that. Those words, nearly those exact words were seared into his soul ages ago. That voice berated him for years. There was no way he would ever mistake that voice for anyone else. But—she didn’t look like the Seohyun he remembered. The mere sight of her didn’t drive him mad, he didn’t have to fight back the urge to throw himself at her feet. She was Seohyun without the best and the worst parts of her.

She wasn’t the woman he loved.

Not anymore.

“Wow…” He exhaled with a smile. “You’ve really changed, haven’t you.”

Which, now that the initial shock had worn off, he realized that she was the exact same. Painfully so. Her nails were freshly manicured, her hair and makeup were set perfectly in place, her clothes were fresh off the runway, she was Seohyun in every sense of the word. Perfectly plucked from time and placed in front of him. She was everything he thought he loved. Before he learned what love really looked like. And god it didn’t look like her.

“And you haven’t changed at all.” She huffed. “Still the rude asshole I dumped forever ago. I can’t believe I doubted myself for a second there, spotting you across the bar made it seem like the good old times. But I really made the right call, didn’t I?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “You really did. Goodbye, Seohyun. Thanks for everything.”

She scoffed as he left. “Yeah, whatever.”

After that, Jaebum didn’t hesitate. He took off running for the bus stop, desperate to get home to a woman that he had loved for a whole year and just didn’t know it. He had been so sure that the love he felt for her was just a projection, that she only reminded him of Seohyun so that was the only reason he loved her. Never in all his life had he been happier to be wrong.

I love her… He chanted in his head, over and over again. I love her!

Once he got home, he burst through the door and stopped immediately when he saw her standing there. How had he never noticed before? She was beautiful, she was perfect, she was the woman he loved with his whole heart and he was a fool for not knowing sooner. She made him laugh, she made him smile, she made him forget about Seohyun a hundred times and even wiped her from his heart forever. And he was the idiot who thought it was all a lie.

“What’s wrong, Jaebum?” She asked innocently. “Is something on your mind?”

“Yes.” He confirmed easily, approaching her slowly and taking her hands in his. “I’ve done a lot of thinking, a lot of soul searching this past year, trying to make sense of my feelings for you. And I think I finally know what my brain has been telling me since the very beginning.”

There was a nervous glint to her eyes, but she played along. “What would that be?”

“That I love you.” He smiled. “I love you for being you and no one else.”

Those words, those simple words that wouldn’t make any sense to someone else, made her face light up like a fireworks display. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face into his chest, overwhelmed with a feeling he knew all too well. For the first time in four years, Jaebum could breathe. A huge weight had lifted from his shoulders, the ghost of Seohyun was finally gone. He was free.

“I love you too…” She mumbled. “I’ve loved you for so long…”

“I know.” He whispered gently, tilting her chin up and kissing her gently. “And I will thank you everyday for waiting for me.”

[thespianbooks]

A Court of Nightmares and Starlight //Chapter 23//

Masterlist

(tags: @thron3ofbooks, @df3ndyr, @courtofjurdan, @art-e-mis, @herondamnn, @the-third-me, @im-still-trying-here, @emikadreams, @paytin77, @mis-lil-red, @sleeping-and-books, @lucieisabooknerd, @amandaraey-sunshine, @easy-p-lemon, @azymondias05, @dagypsygirl, @makeshift-utopia) *bold tags don’t work ;-;

Sorry this chapter is late today, it’s just been a crazy hectic week, but I’ve been determined to still post on Monday’s dammit! Even at 8PM 😅 Enjoy! 

XXX

A week into our newfound peace, Rhys and I were glad to be rid of Keir and the ongoing threat he posed, but now faced the aftermath of the Illyrians and the rebellion they had raised on their side of the coup. While Keir and his Darkbringer generals had been easily taken care of by Mor, we were now faced with the task of dispensing the repercussions to the Illyrian camp lords that sided with Kallon.

"I want all the camp lords dead," Rhys said—darkly and very matter-of-factly to our inner circle; all of us having gathered in the small cabin at Windhaven.

Following the battle, it only took a couple of days to round up the rogue Illyrians into the prison camps that had been established. Cassian had also separated the camp lords from their legions and imprisoned them separately. He, Azriel, Rhys and I decided early on that their sentences would differ from their soldiers as a warning that another attempt like this wouldn't be taken lightly—if our powerful friends throughout the other courts weren't foreboding enough. As the days passed, most of our court allies had returned back to their respective territories; Tamlin being the first, followed by Tarquin with the promise to send any other additional aide we might need; as well as good wishes for my mate and I and our baby. Eris left shortly after without any additional fanfare, but gave us a less-than subtle reminder of his father who continued to rot in their dungeons, though any thoughts of possibly dealing with the elder male left me weary. Rhys assured me that Eris would be more than pleased to manage with his father. Only a few days after that, Helion and Thesan agreed to stay behind with their general commanders and a small intel of higher-ranking soldiers in order to help keep an eye on our newly stationed prisons. They decided to leave the rest of this issue in our hands by wisely sitting out of the meetings Rhys and I had with our family.

Cassian visibly stiffened at my mate's words, but before he had a chance to protest, I held up a hand and turned to him. "That is almost half of the camp lords in Illyria, some that have been in their position for centuries, Rhys," I shared a quick exchange with Cassian, who looked on with approval.

"You, Cassian, and Azriel came to the conclusion long ago that this had to be dealt with more delicately, right?" I posed.

The tension in Rhys's shoulders remained, but his face shifted from dark to moderate as his eyes trailed over my rounded stomach; more pronounced than ever at this stage, and more so while I sat in the chair at the table we gathered around. With only a little less than two months to go, I was growing increasingly uncomfortable as the days dragged on. With the dust settled, the adrenaline I had gathered in the past weeks began to dissipate—leaving me with the aches and pains I had grown accustomed to, along with my more sluggish movement.

Rhys's gaze lingered on my stomach. "That was a decade ago, when we were speculating. Things played out a lot differently than we originally anticipated."

"But we had a hunch on this outcome, Rhys. Feyre is right, we were right back then. We can't kill our way out of this one," Cassian explained.

From the corner of my eye I noticed Azriel silently watching their exchange, arms crossed, and it didn't take much to assume what his opinion on the matter was.

"Well how else do we send a message to them? Apparently executing the camps who sided with Amarantha didn't send it clear enough, because they pulled this," Mor challenged.

I turned a withered gaze in her direction. She did have a point, but I still couldn't help feeling that simply sentencing high-ranking Illyrians to death wasn't the answer we needed.

"That, and the losses they suffered from the war with Hybern only added to their list of grievances against us. Adding more to their dead would only strengthen that point for them," Cassian argued.

"These people are ruthless," Nesta pointed out, staring Cassian down hard as his head turned at her words. "The only way to match that and make sure our point is received is by being equally merciless."

"The girl has a point, Cassian." Amren drawled from her spot next to me, her petite legs draped casually on the table. "Violence begets violence."

"We don't need any more violence," Elain suddenly said, surprisingly assertive—even as everyone directed their astonished stares at her.

"Feyre is about to have a baby. That baby is going to take over as High Lord one day, and we don't want him inheriting the difficulties you all have been dealing with for centuries," she explained. "The whole reason we sought to end this coup was to herald in a new era of peace. So, we have to establish that now. Somehow."

I smiled gratefully in return and noticed that while Nesta and Cassian stared at my otherwise timid sister, Azriel fought a grin on his composed face. Amren, however, allowed a long feline grin to grow on her lips.

"Wise words, girl," she said casually.

Mor's grin was friendly, but worried. "That would be ideal, but these are the Illyrians we're talking about."

"There must be something we can do," Elain insisted.

"There is," Rhys finally spoke up. "But will be hard pressed to find."

I drummed my fingertips along the apex of my belly, Sebastian mercifully sleeping after a night of constant kicking, and I debated aloud. "What if we took something of value to them? Something that would cost them they're rank and force them into different occupations in the camps? Like say...an ability?"

Azriel was the first to understand what I meant, eyes growing wide with an astonished blink, Rhys and Cassian following and looking equally shocked.

"That practice was banned centuries ago," Rhys said, though he didn't sound too bothered.

"In regard to females," Cassian interjected as he crossed his arms again with a smug smirk.

"It would certainly make them wish they were dead," Azriel added, also unbothered.

"And makes for a rather profound impact," I concluded with a small grin. "Any other sympathizers for their cause will think twice before trying to oppose our rule again."

Mor and Amren seemed to catch onto what we were implying, as did Nesta—who bent down to mutter in our sister's ear to inform her. Elain's eyes went wide but didn't protest.

"Well girl, it appears pregnancy hasn't affected that mischievous mind of yours," Amren mused, grey eyes almost seeming to shimmer as she spoke.

"It looks like we have our solution then," Mor said with a satisfied sigh. "Can we get the hell out of this frozen tundra now and go back to Velaris?"

Rhys nodded, placing a hand on the back of my chair. "We will, just as soon as Feyre darling delivers the sentences to the camp lords."

I blinked and turned my head to face him. "Me?" I asked.

"Well, it was your idea, my love," Rhys replied with a wicked grin.

"And since you weren't at the battle, it'd be good for them to hear and see their High Lady. Give them another reminder of your position and the power you hold as well," Cassian said.

I sighed tiredly, running both hands along the expanse of my belly. I wanted nothing more than to return to Velaris—return home and finally enjoy this newly-granted peace, before a new chaos ensued in the form of a newborn high fae infant.

I promise, the first thing I'll do when we return to Velaris is draw you a warm bath

And bring me as many chocolate covered strawberries as I want? I asked in return.

His responding chuckle was aloud as he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. I'll bring you whatever you're craving and more, my love

I smiled at him in return before facing the others. "All right, I'll address the camp lords and hand out their sentences, but I don't think I can stomach watching it all be carried out."

"Az and I will see to that, and we'll have the other prisoners and camp lords bear witness. That will guarantee that none of them ever try anything like this again," Cassian promised, though for a second I saw a glimmer of that long-held pain reflected in his eyes.

After the week it took to gather the last of our prisoners and the last efforts it took to clean up this mess, I still didn't get that moment alone to speak with Cassian. The night following the battle, Rhys had let down his black adamant shields, allowing me to see the fighting that took place after Keir's death. While the Illyrians and Darkbringers managed to hold their own for a time, they were certainly no match against our numbers with the other High Lord's forces combined. Even through his memories I could feel the ache my mate felt when facing his own people; the people and traditions he had been primarily raised in thanks to his mother. That ache and betrayal was just as present in Cassian, who would let out frustrated shouts of anger as he fought his fellow Illyrian warriors. Through Rhys's memory, I saw flashes of Cassian in battle and the inner turmoil he endured as he took down Illyrian after Illyrian. Both he and Rhys did their best to only knock them unconscious rather than kill them outright, but there were instances when it was their only option.

I stared at Cassian a little longer than I meant to, having realized it when he frowned with concern. "Feyre?" he asked.

I looked down at my lap, half covered by my belly, and squeezed Rhys's hand, still on my shoulder. "I need a moment with Cassian, please," I said to no one in particular.

Rhys pressed a kiss to the crown of my head as confirmation, and I didn't look up as I heard the scrapping of chairs as the others filed out of the cabin one-by-one. I waited until I heard the soft click of the door closing before I lifted my head to face the general—my general and commander.

My eyes stung as I sighed. "Cassian, I...I never got to apologize to you, for all of this," I started softly. "For your own people turning on you, and Rhys, and Az. For you having to fight them at all. I-I can't imagine how hard it must've been for you during that battle."

He crossed over to my side, pulling out a chair and turning it to face mine as he sat across from me. "Feyre, you're not the one who should be apologizing, there is no need," he said before taking my hands in his. "I have dealt with the Illyrians' resentment for centuries and learned a long time ago that I would never be more than some bastard-born nobody to them. I've accepted that."

"Still, to have to take down your own, to face them across the field and know of their intentions…" I said and shook my head with a sigh.

"It might've stung a little, but my loyalties lie elsewhere," he said with a small squeeze of my hands.

I offered him a sad smile in return, but he grinned. "I may command these legions, and consider myself a proud Illyrian male, but that is separate from you, Rhys, and the others. The Illyrians may be the foundation on which I was raised and trained, but Velaris—the rest of you, are my people."

Tears sprang to my eyes before I had the chance to control them and Cassian laughed, standing so he could kneel at my side and wrap an arm around my shoulders. He rubbed my back lightly as I cried.

"I'm beginning to wonder if you'll ever return back to the old Feyre once the little one is born. She was able to control her tears better," he contemplated.

I shoved his shoulder and he laughed again. "You have no idea how hard it is to control my emotions right now," I motioned to my stomach. "He has complete control over me."

"Oh, I don't envy that at all," he said before standing upright and offering me a hand up.

I sniffed as I took his hand, standing with a grunt of effort and resting a hand on the small of my back. "Thank you, Cassian," I said. "For helping make his world safer."

Cassian grinned in return, bowing with a hand over his heart—as he had when he swore his first oath to me. "Anything in service and protection for my High Lady," he said with a wink.

I laughed and after clearing away any lingering tears, he escorted me outside of the cabin; where I would address the imprisoned Illyrian camp lords and perform as High Lady for the last time before giving birth to their future High Lord.

XXX

Rhys's speech had been short and to the point. We agreed he would address the camp lords first before turning the verdict of their punishment to me. The minute the word clipped left my mouth, audible shocked gasps could be heard from the other camp residents and prisoners. Devlon's face was steeled over, despite having agreed with us on this course of action, I imagined the thought of losing one's ability to fly made every male here recoil—though Devlon's face remained as hard as ever.

Half of the camp lords looked disbelieving, thinking we wouldn't actually follow through on such a promise; until Kallon himself foolishly stepped forward and expressed as much, followed by spitting on the ground in front of where Rhys and I stood. Azriel had been quick in his response, a cobalt siphon flickering before a blue light shot out and flattened Kallon on his back—bright blue netting holding him down as he thrashed to get free. Azriel slowly walked over and forced one of the male's wings open, Truth-Teller in hand, before swiftly and brutally making the cut.

I tried not to look away even as my stomach churned at the male's screams. I continued to watch in abject horror until Rhys placed a hand on my back and led me away without another word, Cassian stepping into our place as we left.

The screams followed me all the way back to Velaris, Rhys carrying me in his arms as we flew through the skies as carefully as possible. Even now as I stood on the front balcony of the estate, overlooking the Sidra and city beyond, the anguished screams echoed through my mind for much longer than I wanted. It wasn't remorse that twisted in my gut—no, Kallon and every camp lord that decided to follow him deserved to be clipped as their punishment.

"It's the centuries and centuries you know that practice was performed on females," Rhys suddenly said from behind me, and I realized my shields were down as I twisted to find him leaning against the doorframe leading back into the estate. "And you're worried how they might retaliate."

I frowned, running both hands over the front of my stomach, holding it. "Do you think they will?" I asked softly.

Rhys sauntered over to me, pressing a lingering kiss to my brow. "It's certainly a possibility, but we'll be keeping a much closer eye on those camps, and the females residing there," he reassured me.

I sighed shakily with a nod, placing my hands on his shoulders. "I just...don't want them to use it as an excuse to clip any more females, even the ones that sympathized with their cause," I admitted.

"If they do, they'll pay the consequences. And for any other bullshit they try to pull," he pressed another kiss to my brow, both hands coming to hold my stomach. "But I have a feeling this will bring them down a couple notches, so we may not have anything to worry about for a while."

"I hope you're right about that," I said, closing my eyes with relief as he massaged the sides of my stomach, the muscles beneath my skin sore.

"Am I ever wrong, Feyre darling?" He asked with a wicked grin.

"You don't want me to answer that," I teased.

He gasped in mock hurt. "You wound me, my love," he said as his hands moved to my hips, eliciting a groan from my lips as he massaged the tender spots where the muscles of my stomach met my hips. "Come get some rest, it's been a hectic week."

I nodded and followed him back into our home, placing both of my hands on the small of my back as I began walking ahead of him. "Your son is starting to get heavier and heavier these days," I complained.

I glanced over my shoulder, seeing the wide grin on his face and raised a brow as he watched me walk. "What is it?" I asked.

"Your gait has changed, Feyre darling, that's all," he said as he caught up to my side, resting a hand in place of mine on my back.

I blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You're starting to waddle," he answered, his grin widening.

I balked and took a few more steps, noticing that I certainly was shifting my weight in a slight swaying motion as I walked. "Well, you can't blame me, I am carrying around a splendid burden in my gut."

"You certainly are, my love," he laughed as he guided me to the living area

I held onto both of his arms as I lowered myself onto the sofa, glad I had chosen such luxuriously soft furnishings for each room of the manor. "It's only going to get bigger...much bigger," I said as I stared at my stomach.

Rhys sat beside me, draping an arm over the back of the seat behind me. "That's a good thing. Madja says we want a healthy, cherub-cheeked babe," he said.

His violet eyes sparkled as he began stroking my stomach gently, his grin transforming into a warm smile. I smiled at him in return. "It's all just...becoming so real now. We've spent so much time worrying about the coup, and even though we had those periods of respite, it always lingered over us," I explained. "Now the only thing we have to look forward to is...becoming parents."

"Are you nervous?" Rhys asked, keeping a hand on my stomach.

I shook my head. "I'm excited to meet him, and hold him...to see you hold him," my eyes stung at just the mention of it and laughed at myself—exasperated at how quickly I continued to be reduced to tears.

Rhys pulled me closer, placing a kiss at my temple before moving to my ear. "I can't wait to see him in your arms, to see you nurse him and rock him to sleep," he purred.

I sniffed and nuzzled into his embrace, resting my face into the nape of his neck, breathing in his salt and citrus scent. "It's going to be wonderful isn't it?" I asked softly.

"That, and more," he replied, his chin resting atop the crown of my head as he inhaled my scent as well, both of us basking in each other as he caressed my belly—gratitude didn't even begin to explain what we were both experiencing in this moment.

Gratitude, and hope, and so much more.

[hopelikethemoon]

New Beginnings (Javier x Reader) {MTMF}

Title: New Beginnings Rating: PG-13 Length: 2400 Warnings: Communication!  Notes: You can find everything about Maybe Today, Maybe Forever here. Set in January 1999.  Summary: Reader’s first day teaching. 

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All morning you had been a bundle of nerves. 

Your stomach was rolling with nausea from the two cups of coffee you had downed and the single slice of toast you ate that had done nothing to offset it. 

Over the years, you had given tedious presentations, handled training seminars, and even guest lectured for Javier, but somehow teaching your own class — on your own — was more than your nerves could handle. 

Maybe teaching had been the wrong choice for you. Did everyone feel this nervous on their first day?

“Hey,” Javier’s voice cut through your thoughts as he reached over and gave your knee a squeeze. “You’ve got this, baby.” 

“I’m glad you think I do.” You ghosted your fingers over the back of his hand, tilting your head to look at him with a small smile. “It’s not going to reflect badly on you if I bomb at this, right?”

He shrugged his shoulders, drumming his fingers against your leg. “First off, you’re not going to bomb it. I’m fairly certain my students liked you more than me last semester. Because you’re good.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall, watching as the second hand moved around the clock. You had fifteen minutes before you needed to be in your classroom to set up before the students started to arrive. 

“Let’s see who you’ve got,” Javier mused as he unfolded his glasses and pushed them up the bridge of his nose as he reached for your class roster. 

He dampened his thumb with his tongue before flipping through the pages of your binder, “Sasha Markey’s good. Bit of a teacher’s pet.”

“To you maybe.” You gave him a pointed look. 

Javier arched a brow, but didn’t argue you on that point. “I had Connor last semester.” He pointed to one of the two Connors on the sheet. “His writing skills aren’t very strong, but he’s got a good head on him. Keen on joining the CIA.”

“I’m sure you just loved him.” You teased lightly, chewing on your bottom lip as glanced at the roster. “Monica went over it with me last night. I think I’ve got three of your biggest fans. Probably trying to see what their competition is.”

He snorted. “Well, there’s no competition.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s all your fault for looking so good last summer.”

“Just last summer?”

You hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t give him an answer. “I think I’m gonna go ahead to my classroom and try to get in the zone.” You told him as you started to stand up. “Is it bad that I’d rather be going into a dangerous operation in Colombia?” 

Javier stood too, catching your hand and tugging you back towards him. “Baby, you’ve got this.” He assured you, meeting your gaze with a warm smile. “I know it’s nerve wracking, but we both know that just means you give a shit about what you’re doing.” He brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “Good luck.”

“Thanks, Professor.” You pressed your tongue to the inside of your cheek as you held his gaze. “You won’t divorce me if I’m unemployed after today?”

He huffed out a laugh, “Oh, fuck off.” 

You shoved him playfully in the chest, before slipping out of his hold and gathering up your stack of materials. “See you in three hours.”

“I’ll be here.” He assured you. “Your students are lucky. Don’t forget that.”

You stopped in the doorway of the office and gave him a mock salute before leaving. 

Javier always had the utmost faith in you and your abilities. He’d never questioned your choices, your opinions, or your ideas. Even when he probably should’ve. 

 ——

 “It went so well.” You mused as you walked beside Javier towards the faculty parking lot. “I don’t know why I was so stressed out this morning.” 

“I told you.” Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth. “You’re a natural.”

You couldn’t stop smiling. “And three hours went by in no time. Is that normal?”

He nodded as he loosened his tie, “You get in the zone and nothing else matters.” He walked around to the passenger side of the car and opened it for you. “I’m glad you had a good first day.”

You reached out and ruffled the hair that fell across his forehead as you stood in front of him, “I don’t know why I was so nervous. The shit I’ve been through? Teaching is a breeze in comparison.”

“And I bet your class adored you.” Javier gave your hip a squeeze as he smiled at you. “Before you know it, you’ll be the one everyone’s trying to take.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Don’t you worry, Professor. You’ve got the market cornered in this department.” Everyone adored him — even those who hated him for the sheer amount of course load he required in his courses. 

He rolled his eyes, “For the moment.” Javier leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “We’ve got an hour and a half before we’ve got to pick up the girls.”

“Hmm,” You scraped your teeth over your bottom lip as you tilted your head to look up at him. “Is this your way of telling me to pick what we should do with our free time?”

“Yeah,” He chuckled, patting your hip as he pressed a kiss your lips.

“We could hit the boardwalk on the way to pick them up.” You suggested, “It’s not quite beach weather, so it won’t be as crowded.”

He worked his jaw and shrugged, “I could do the beach.”

“Then it’s a plan.” You smiled, before ducking into the car. You settled your bag onto the floor by your feet, watching Javier through the windshield as he walked around to the driver’s side. “I could also use something to eat.”

“It’s almost dinner, baby.”

You made a face, “My slice of toast wore off about an hour ago.”

“Boardwalk fries?” He questioned as he turned the key in the ignition. 

“You read my mind.” 

“I can’t think of a single trip down to the boardwalk where we didn’t get fries or ice cream.”

“There were also street tacos and funnel cakes.” You reminded him, chewing on your thumb nail. “I’m a woman of taste.”

“Oh?”

“Well, when it comes to food.” You teased. “Jury’s out on my taste in men.”

“Ouch.” He snorted, shaking his head as he stopped at a light. 

You scrunched up your nose, “What?”

He gave you an amused look before starting through the intersection. “You’re a dork.” 

“Takes one to know one.” You retorted, stealing his sunglasses out of the center console and putting them on. “The evolution you’ve been on is something else.”

“My evolution? Look who’s talking.” He countered, reaching over to give your knee a squeeze. “We’ve both been on a ride since the eighties.” 

“Seriously!” You pushed your hair behind your ears. “I never saw this life for myself.” 

But it was better than anything you could’ve imagined. 

——

 “Serious question,” You started, pointing a fry at Javier before eating it. “I don’t know if this is a therapy question or not.”

Javier arched a brow, “Well shit, baby. That’s a hell of a lead in.” He reached for the dish and snatched up two fries. 

You made a face and admitted, “It just came to me.” 

He squinted at you behind the lenses of his sunglasses, his brows furrowed together. “Is this a bad question?”

“Not really,” You shrugged. “It’s probably stupid, honestly.”

“There’s no stupid questions.” Javier reminded you, parroting back the things that Nancy had told you both when you were working on communication. 

You sighed heavily, “Alright. Well, I was thinking about that period after Sofía was born.”

“Shit.” He rubbed his thumb over his bottom lip, looking away from you then. 

“I know.” You gave a hollow laugh at that. “Before Chucho left, the two of you came down here.” You gestured to the beach. “And I just remember how nervous I was about whatever the two of you talked about.” You glanced at him, watching the way his lips pressed into a thin line as he stared at the horizon. “Obviously you’re under no obligation to tell me about your private conversations, but I’ve always wondered.”

Javier’s shoulders sank and he raked his fingers through his hair, “There’s no secrets between us, baby.” He reminded you as he tilted his head enough to look at you. “Shit was bad back then and I went to him for advice. I knew something was wrong. You and I know now that I misunderstood the situation.”

“My dumbass figured it was a ‘Don’t Marry Lorraine’ type conversation about me.”

He stared at you, “You thought that?”

“That’s how I remember feeling,” You bowed your head. “I thought about a lot of shit back then.” You picked you another fry, eating a small bite off the end of it. 

Javier reached out and ran his hand over your back, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “I mean, we did talk about you, baby. But it was all about how I thought I was gonna lose you. He talked me off a ledge.”

You met his gaze, “I’m sorry I put you through that.”

“Don’t be.” He shrugged a shoulder, picking up another fry, chewing on it as he looked back towards the ocean. “He convinced me to stick it out, you know? And I listened to him.”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you ran.”

Javier clicked his tongue against his teeth, “I didn’t want to. But I was at wit’s end and… I don’t know, he was getting ready to head back to Texas and I wanted to know what he thought.”

“I’m glad he told you to stick it out. I hope it was worth it.” You nudged his leg. 

“It was worth it.” He narrowed his eyes at you and scoffed. “If we hadn’t weathered that storm, do you think we’d be married right now?”

You shook your head slowly, rubbing your lips together. “I don’t know where we’d be if Connie hadn’t recognized what was going on.”

“Probably not sitting on this bench eating fries.”

You popped another one into your mouth, smiling at him as you chewed it. “We might be. It would just be uncomfortable and tense.”

“As much as I hated that period of time,” Javier started, reaching over to give your leg a squeeze. “I can’t even begin to imagine how it felt for you.”

“I like I was losing my mind.” You admitted. “Sometimes it felt like I wasn’t me. Like someone else had taken up residency.” You leaned against his arm, resting your cheek against his shoulder. “It used to be like that when I was younger. I’d push and push and then wonder why I was alone.”

Javier hummed quietly, rubbing his thumb over your leg as he listened to you. “Thank God for Nancy.” 

“Seriously.” You ate another fry, before picking up another and holding it in front of his mouth. 

He chuckled and caught it between his teeth. “What got you thinking about all of this?”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, “It came to me last night. Josie was talking about Sofía stealing that silly Beanie Baby of hers and then I started thinking about the hospital and coming home.” 

He squeezed your leg, “You should’ve talked to me about it.”

“Am I not telling you right now?” You turned your head to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “It felt like stupid first day jitters.” 

Javier nodded slowly, “I get that.” How many times had he had nightmares every time there was change in your lives? “You gonna talk to Nancy?”

“We’re still grappling with the mother topic.” You made a face, “I don’t know if this really justifies a whole session.” You ate another fry. “And besides, now that I know your father wasn’t lecturing you on escaping from my craziness — it’s a moot point.”

He gave your leg another pat, “We both know he’d choose you.”

“I wasn’t going to say it.” 

Javier snorted, “But you were thinking it.”

“Maybe.” You popped another fry into your mouth. “You know Javi, you can always talk to me too. I think that’s obvious, but I figured I’d say it.” 

He pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek, “The most I worry about these days is getting old.”

“Me too.” You nudged him in the ribs. “About you, at least, old man.” 

Javier huffed, “Laugh it up, baby. You’re the one who will be taking care of me in my old age.”

“I look forward to it,” You retorted. “It means we’re both old together.” You ate one more fry before scooting forward on the bench. “Do you want anymore?”

“I’m good.”

“Good. I was planning on making the seagulls’ day.” 

“You know they’re gonna swarm.” Javier complained as he rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders. 

“Then I guess you’re gonna need to get your running shoes on.” You taunted as you tossed the fries a few feet in front of you — causing a flock of hungry seagulls to swoop down on their dinner. 

Javier grabbed your hand, holding it tight as you both booked it back up the stairs to the boardwalk, away from the seagulls who assumed you had more food on you. 

Once you were safely locked inside the car — you both started laughing. The sort of laughter that started in your belly and warmed your chest as you sputtered and coughed from it. A feeling you wanted to cling to and keep with you always.

“Hey,” Javier managed, clearing his throat before chuckling again as he met your gaze. 

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering, he leaned across the center console and kissed you. You sank into the kiss and chased after his lips as he pulled back. 

“I love you.” He told you, brushing his fingers over your cheek. “I’m glad we’re working together again.”

You grinned at him, “Me too. Even if it isn’t as exciting as taking down drug cartels.”

“Just you wait until exams.”

You groaned dramatically, “Don’t remind me.”

“Only four months.” He arched a brow, before glancing at the clock. “And we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave right now. Shit.”

“Whoops.” You grimaced as you buckled your seatbelt. 

[langdxn]

ok ok so first of all, LOVED ‘the drug in me is you’ !!!!! but i raise you,, micHAEL having HATE (like absolutely rough, degradation, choking, everytHING ) sex bc he feels betrayed by reader but by the end of it he’s broken down and crying saying “i love you im so, so sorry i love you”

OH BABE DON’T DO THIS TO ME 🥵🥵🥵 This got a little crazy so I apologise if this is more intense than you hoped…

“You need to learn your place, little bitch,” Michael snarled, digging his fingers roughly into the flesh of your thighs and yanking them around his waist. “You don’t own this Outpost, I do.”

His Outpost desk was sharp, cool, unforgiving on your legs as he’d forcibly shoved you up onto it and shed your clothes with a flick of his wrist.

“What’re you gonna do about it, Boy Wonder?” Your words spat like venom, curled lips spewing fury as you simply watched him ravage you, skewing your insolence into a sadistic seduction. “Gonna fuck the disobedience out of me?”

“You know the routine well, I see,” he mused callously, breaking his hard gaze into your eyes as he glanced down to release his length from his dress pants. “That’s an interesting reflection on the frequency of these betrayals, Mrs Langdon.”

Your vision followed his, falling upon his flushed, erect member as he palmed lightly at his tip, leaking precum as he neared your waiting entrance. You swallowed thickly as you observed the veins of his cock pulsing wildly, impatiently, desperately.

“No you fucking don’t,” he snapped. His free hand shot to curl around your throat, applying a dangerous amount of pressure to your airways. “You don’t get to watch me fuck your brains out. You get to watch me put you back in your position at the bottom of the chain of command in here.”

“All this because I went to Gallant’s room after hours?” Your hips bucked into him as he stalled at your folds, his tip ghosting over the fresh droplets of your arousal collecting at your entrance.

“All this because you seem to have carelessly forgotten that you need me in order to survive,” Michael hissed, rearing his hips back before snapping forward and stretching your folds open in one swift motion, already nudging near your cervix as he bottomed out inside you. You cried out in pain and ecstasy in equal measure, your shrill, piercing emission only serving to drive Michael’s hips into you harder and faster.

“You haven’t fucked me in weeks, what else was I supposed to do? Turn into a bitter, twisted hag like Venable?”

“Is that all you think about? Filling this pathetic little cunt?” Michael seethed, casting a disgusted glare at you as he drew his hips back and pounded into you like he hated you. “You’re aware Gallant swings the other way, aren’t you?”

“I wasn’t trying to screw Gallant, Michael,” your brows furrowed as your back arched to meet his ruthless pace. “I was trying to—to screw you!”

“Don’t lie to me, you’re such a desperate whore you’d take any dick you could find.” Michael punctuated his sentence with a rough thrust and a tighter squeeze on your oesophagus that left you spluttering, eyes popping and your head throwing back to the ceiling. “You’re lucky I needed something to cum inside tonight.”

“Your words don’t hurt me, baby,” you sassed back, knowing full well that winding him up in this state was a risky game, but his words were hurting you and your best defence was an offence. “I know you love me.”

His lips furled into a snarl as you fixed on his cold gaze, watching his irises bleed black and the whites of his eyes set alight with vibrant red veins, his signature red eyeshadow assuming the searing shade of white heat.

“That’s my problem, I guess,” he sighed sarcastically while his hips crashed into yours at a furious pace, nudging his tip against your walls so hard and so persistently, a hollow ache burned in the pit of your stomach. “I have a weakness for giving selfish little sluts what they want.”

“So give me what I want then, daddy,” you transformed your slick tone into the breathless, needy vibes he sounded so desperate to hear. “Fuck me like you own me.”

“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said ever since we got to this Outpost.” His free hand joined the other wrapped around your throat and anchored himself at your neck as he slammed against you with sheer brute force. “I do own you, princess. I own you and I can extinguish you just as easily. You’d do well to remember that before disobeying me.”

His forceful words projecting from his sallow, demonic face stirred a sadistic desire you hadn’t felt with Michael before. Sure, his devilish alternate countenance had emerged many times since you arrived at Outpost 3, but never in such a manner that he let it out on you and you alone. The rush of adrenaline, the electric bolts through your every nerve, the uncontrollable obedience that his look commanded — he was all too aware he held every atom of power over you and it was only a matter of time before you passed out from his attempts.

“Open wide,” he hummed, pressing the pad of his thumb into your chin and slowly prizing your jaw open. As you obeyed, flattening your tongue and hollowing out your cheeks as dutifully as possible, Michael pursed his lips and spat onto your tongue. A satisfied groan followed from you both, before he gave you a curt nod to signal to swallow, which you also obeyed. “Good to see you know where you stand now, kitten.”

“Perhaps now you can start fucking me properly.”

The words came out before you had a chance to consider the consequences.

As his lips parted gently with surprise, Michael’s vicious thrusts intensified and both of his thumbs pressed deeper into your windpipe, your vision slowly blurring and a kaleidoscope of colours dancing across the appearance of your blonde-haired demon fucking into you. “You’re going to regret that, little bitch.”

Jackhammering his hips to crash against yours faster than ever, you could’ve sworn you felt his cock pummelling up into your throat, his relentless pace swelling your aching folds and pounding against your sensitive spot. Clenching fervently around his length, you felt your consciousness slip from you just as your walls began to tremble and flutter around him.

“Michael, I—“

You couldn’t warn him, it was too late. Your eyes quivered shut and your last lingering feeling before you passed out — his release flooding feverishly inside you.

“Baby please…”

“… please wake up…”

“Please baby…”

Michael’s panicked sobs echoed through the void.

The cavernous ache in your core stormed back into your nerves as you slowly regained consciousness. Straining to open your eyes, you found a grey blur of Michael’s black shirted chest pressed against your cheek, his hands trembling as they held your back to keep you upright. His chest heaving frantically against you, he felt your breaths returning to you.

“Princess, are you, are you okay?”

“I…” you couldn’t find the strength to respond. You planted your hands down beside you to find you were now sat amongst the cool satin sheets of your bed, Michael’s hard wood desk no longer jabbing into your thighs.

“I, I’m so sorry,” he cried, one hand brushing over your hair, an attempt to comfort both you and him. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Wh… what happened?”

“I took it too far,” he admitted, swallowing harshly as his motion thundered against your cheek. “I took it way too far.”

Pulling back from his embrace to look at him as your hooded eyes slowly peeled open, you found his terrified face with dried tear tracks gazing down at you, his eyes back to their usual piercing blue and his cheeks full of colour, full of fear.

“It’s, it’s okay,” you stuttered weakly, pressing both palms on his chest as you forced your eyes wide open. “I’m alright now.”

“I love you,” Michael sighed softly, pulling you in for a deep, lingering kiss, mumbling breathlessly against your lips. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry for what I did… and what I said.”

Michael shivered as he held you close, fingers digging into your back in the hope his embrace could bring you some warmth to regain your strength. Breathing deeply, you strained to beam a warm smile back at Michael.

“We… we should do that more often.”