#u deserve all the sweet dreams my sweet son

[zeearts]

im late but happy birthday xiao!! 🥺🥺 his birthday letter got me in the feels

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (6/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love Warnings: slow burn, angst, talks about sexual assault, talks about being drugged, nosey people, rumors, boxing, drinking. Rating: mature, 18+ w.c: 11.7k Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

a/n: hello, I'm here after thousands of years. Thank you so much for sticking around I know I can't upload as often as I used to :( Lololol and I couldn't wait unti tomorrow^^ Also this chapter was very heavy for me to write, but I'm happy that I did it! That's all lmk your thoughts and I will see you when I see you :))

AO3 || Masterlist || series masterlist

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It took you almost three hours to fall asleep.

You felt all giddy and excited for the morning to come, so much so that you woke up before your alarm without a complaint. Everything just felt so much simpler and brighter. You didn’t groan when the morning light peeked through the little slits between your blinds. You didn’t hesitate to push the white duvet from your body. And you practically skipped to the kitchen where Namjoon danced to his own rhythm as he prepared what seemed to be kimchi eggs.

At least that’s what your nose was hinting at. If you weren’t so distracted by the pleasant tangy smell, you would’ve noticed it the second you walked through his kitchen arcs. Maybe you would’ve had enough time to keep your jaw from hitting the floor, but it was like he sensed you despite your slow movements and turned around the moment you walked in.

“I made you breakfast.”

There was Kim Namjoon in all his perfect glory. Smiling. Shirtless. With a pair of black sleeping shorts hanging just below the navel of his abs, a light brown apron to protect him from the gas stove. You couldn’t see everything but you could see enough, and if enough was what was making you shake, then you were thankful you couldn’t see everything.

“Did you sleep well?” He cocked his head to the side as he plated your eggs on one of your ceramic plates with painted clouds on it. The stark contrast between his decor and yours was starting to morph into each other, slowly becoming perfect molds of the other and you had only been living together for a day.

“U-um, yeah my mattress is much more comfortable than my old one so I slept like I was on a cloud.” You said in a soft whisper as you slowly made your way to the barstool. Once you were seated you looked at the absolute feast in front of you.

Perfectly scrambled eggs with kimchi, a side salad, peanut butter toast topped with a perfect circle of sliced bananas, and a small bowl of tofu soup. This wasn’t like any breakfast you could ever make yourself. It was more than you deserved.

Suddenly you felt like crying. It’s only been a day since your compromise. You didn’t expect him to do a complete one eighty in the last twelve hours since you last saw each other. You were expecting small arguments here and there before they slowly died down. The domesticity of it all was slightly overwhelming, but you didn’t get enough to react like you would’ve liked because he was clumsily working his way through the kitchen again. Turning on the stove and mixing ingredients right before your eyes.

He looked so comfortable, effortless. You felt like a misplaced doll.

“What are you doing?” Was what came out of your mouth instead of the ‘thank you’ you had been mindlessly repeating over and over in your head. He chuckled, turning his head giving you a sweet dimpled smile.

He had to be messing with you. Not even the Namjoon you knew before acted like this. He never smiled wide enough to make his dimples appear and his eyes turn into little half moons. Unless it was towards his mother, who always made him turn into the sweet little boy she helped raise along with her son.

“I’m making us lunch. I figured we should clear out the fridge as much as possible to restock with new produce.” He shrugs and turns his attention back to the lilac frying pan he was using. Before you can answer with whatever obscenity your frontal lobe was currently developing. He spoke up again, “I’ve finished most of it already but when you’re done eating can you cut up the kiwi’s for me.” He finishes, continuing his task.

Certainly you’ve woken up in a different dimension. Are you still dreaming? This was most definitely not the same Namjoon who you were arguing with just a couple of days ago. Maybe it was his long lost twin brother that his entire family had kept hidden until now. Though, that theory would’ve been debunked with the amount of times you spent at his parents house doing Jungkook’s laundry for him. Maybe he fell last night and hit his head against one of his curated art pieces.

Come to think of it, you did wake up to the sound of something falling last night at around three in the morning.

That just had to be it!

“Are you okay?”

Namjoon stops and reaches his arm over, circling his fingers around the black knob to turn off the gas. He waits for the flame to die down before placing the pink rubber spatula on one of your cat holders. He turns around slowly, moving a bit to the side and leans against his perfect marble counter. One hand resting firmly on his hip.

He tilts his head to one side and narrows his eyes at you in suspicion. “I’m perfectly fine, why do you ask?” He replies through a forced gritted smile. His calm and composed demeanor falters for a second and you almost let out a sigh of relief.

There had been no alien abduction last night. The last and final theory you had come up with. The Namjoon you knew was still present, and he was slightly annoyed.

“You’re not being you?” You confess pushing your eggs around on your plate.

Namjoon scoffs and pushes himself away from the counter and begins to untie his apron. You’re in the middle of your first bite, when you see him throw it onto his kitchen island. Your eyes almost fall out of their sockets when you finally get a glimpse of his faint abdominal muscles. But what really has you swallowing fast so you don’t choke on your food is his chest. And the bulging muscles of his arms as he crosses them in front of him.

Did he turn off the air con? It is suddenly really hot in this kitchen.

“I don’t think you know me well enough to make that assumption.” He speaks up, taking you out of your trance. Right, you think. This isn’t time to shamelessly ogle at Namjoon’s body. You’re in a serious conversation? At least that’s the direction it seems to be heading. Whatever type of conversation you could currently be having with Namjoon, his tone of voice and accusatory glance triggers something in you. You’ve forgotten the compliment about how his hard work at the gym is paying off. The heatwave is replaced with a wave of defense and you’re up in a seconds ready to stand your ground in a battle that you have unintentionally started.

“I’m just saying Namjoon, you’re acting completely different than the person you were just last night.”

Namjoon shakes his head, grabs hold of the pan and sets it on top of an old kitchen rag. “You wanted a compromise, this is me trying. You wanted to be friends, so I’m treating you like how I treat all of my friends.” He mumbles and opens a lilac tupperware and begins to plate the spinach spaghetti aglio he had been making this entire time.

Defeated, you sit back down on the barstool. So, this is what being Namjoon’s friend was like. What were you all of those years ago?

It’s that realization that has you standing again, almost knocking down the barstool, catching Namjoon’s attention whipping his head in your direction, a confused look on his face. The conversation isn’t over yet, and he guesses it’s because that stubborn part of you that always needed to have the last word is still in there. He finds it just as infuriating as he did all those years ago.

“So you basically beg all of your friends to marry you?” You start, the accusation isn’t enough to fire up Namjoon. That is until you open your mouth again. “You kiss all your friends too.” You mumble, looking around his kitchen, taking in the modernism and avoiding the glare he sends your way.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” He speaks up. His voice is laced with annoyance. You always knew how to hold a grudge and you always knew how to bring up past mistakes in order to win an argument.

“Do you cook breakfast and lunch for all of your friends? You give them all jobs and help pay for their student loans? Oh, do you offer them a place to live or a separate house too? Or do you only do that for the woman you pay to be with you?” You accuse, rolling your eyes in annoyance. It’s a petty accusation and definitely out of pocket, but that’s what he does to you. He brings out the nasty little monster that still holds a grudge against him for what he did to you all those years ago.

Namjoon has had enough. The anger sizzles inside of him. He slams the lid of the tupperware down against his countertop, making you jump. He turns to face you slowly, moving his chest up and down in a poor attempt to stay calm. The peaceful and easy morning you thought you were going to have has moved out of the vicinity. As well as the deal the two of you made last night, and you’re the only one to blame.

You just can’t ever keep your mouth shut.

“What exactly are you referring to?” He seethes, taking deep breaths as he grips the corner of his countertop with one hand.

“I can’t help but think you have ulterior motives. Nothing about this makes any sense to me. I haven’t been working on campus for long but I have already heard the rumors questioning your character. And Jungkook has continuously ranted about the revolving door of women that would come in and out of your apartment when the two of you lived together. I just can’t begin to understand why I’m your last choice, why I’m the one in this position when you and I both know that there’s someone out there way better. Unless you want something more from me otherwise why would you have kissed me?”

Namjoon closes his eyes, taking in your words. If he’s being honest with himself he also doesn’t understand his motives. He knows why he is doing this. At least the half that involves his parents. But you’re right he doesn’t know why it had to be you in the first place. Sure, it was the simpler choice and he was running out of time, but if he really wanted to he could’ve bought himself some time to find the person he truly wants to share his life with.

Could it be that deep down he wants it to be you?

He can’t stand you accusing him of stooping so low though. He doesn’t know why he kissed you. It was an impulse that he has never felt in his entire life. Yet, he feels so angry that he can’t think clearly, because he’s spent years dodging the accusations at work, and Jungkook’s gossiping.

“You think I am paying you for sex?” He says in disbelief.

You shrug, pushing in the barstool. “I mean it wouldn’t be the first time that you pay someone for sex, according to your colleagues. Which I hold no judgment for but I am not that type of person.”

“And you believe that nonsense?” He chuckles dryly, shaking his head. “I thought that you out of all people would not believe those rumors. I have never done that in my life, because like you just said I am not that ‘type of person’. I will also never do that to you.” He argues, taking slow steps in your direction, reducing the air that’s separating the two of you.

“Why? Because I am undesirable?” You spit out. Throwing out the words that hurt you the most all of those years ago.

He shakes his head, rounding the corner to the bar and stands right in front of you. “No, that’s not why? I–”

“Then why? Namjoon I don’t understand I–”

“I respect you too much.” He interrupts looking at you with pleading eyes. It’s a look you have never seen on him before. It’s new, it feels foreign and it makes you doubt his words even more. Especially when you know that he hasn’t shown any ounce of respect for you since before he rudely barged into your life again.

You click your tongue, turning your head to the side. His gaze burns with something you can’t decipher. “You don’t have to lie, there’s no one around.”

“I’m not lying.” He fights back his voice full of hope. “You don’t have to believe me but–”

“Of course I don’t. Not only have you been a complete asshole since we met again but years ago you threw my feelings for you right to my face. You called me crazy, undesirable, and unlovable. And in that same vein you confessed to me.” Your hands quickly go up to cover your mouth. Your eyes bulge out in surprise. The little secret you had been holding in for the past ten years escapes you before you can even stop yourself. Nobody knew what had really happened after your tumultuous fight. It was something you were going to take with you to your grave.

Namjoon is stunned. He’s stuck between calling you out on your bullshit and believing you. Truth be told he doesn’t remember anything else from that night. Apart from the fight he had with you, and the words he said very clearly.

Could it be that there has always been a missing piece to his story. One that he never bothered to look for because he didn’t know it existed. Until now.

If he’s being honest, Namjoon never understood why you cut all ties with him from one day to another. Sure, he was brutal in his choice of words. He wanted to get his point across but he was always so much better at writing them rather than saying them. The second he opened his mouth both of your worlds turned upside down, and he was full of regret. As a last ditch resort to salvage the remaining spark of your friendship because back then he couldn’t picture a life without you in it–and maybe that’s transversed to now–he apologized. He wrote you a letter, explaining his thought process and that he valued you a lot more than you could ever imagine, but nothing came out of it.

Did you even get his letter?

He figures you did but choose to walk away for good. It’s something that he’s kept locked next to his heart. It’s a hurt he’s never fully healed from and it’s why he acts so cold towards you. Believe him, he’s been suffering since Taehyung’s party. But if what you’re saying is true, then he might finally understand something that has been keeping him up at night whenever he gets into his head.

“I what?” His ego is faltering as he watches your eyes water with frustrated tears. Every negative thought he’s ever had of you since then to make himself feel better for his heinous words and unproclaimed apology, makes him look even worse than before.

Your shoulders drop, “You came back. You apologize, and told me that you had loved me all this time.” You sniffle, wrapping your arms around yourself tightly. “You were drunk, so I didn’t believe you. I thought you were playing a joke on me, but I made myself believe that if you could tell me exactly that when you woke up the next day then I would forgive you.” You take a deep breath in, closing your eyes tightly. “I never got to know the truth because Jungkook called me. He was furious, asking if I had seen you. He let it slip that the girl you had picked up that night refused to leave and was trashing the apartment.” You take a step back from him. “So, I can’t believe you when you tell me that you respect me because if you did then you wouldn’t have told me that you were in love with me after you told me I could never be loved, and not after you had slept with someone else.” You finish, bringing your hand up and whipping away the lone tear that you had let slip.

The truth was finally out.

The real reason why you never talked to him again. And the reason why your self-esteem crumbled into tiny pieces of glass. You hated that time. You slipped into bad habits, looking for validation in different crowds that never had your well-being in mind. You spiraled out of control. You let go of your bodily autonomy because for the longest time you thought you weren’t worth it. Until the night in which everything was taken from you. Both Jungkook and Jimin were there to witness the crumpled up piece of paper that you had become. It’s why they’re so protective of you because seeing you so helpless and paralyzed with fear was horrifying.

They haven’t voiced it out loud yet, but you know they don’t want you to go through this thing with Namjoon. Although, he wasn’t the culprit for your distrust in men. He was the reason as to why you went down a road that you didn’t belong on.

So, as much as you would like too, because guarding yourself with high walls is tiring. You can’t let them down. You lost so much for such a long time. Keeping them up is the only way you can protect yourself.

“No, I’m–no, I didn't do that.” He starts letting his hands fall against his sides. Your attention is back on him and you’ve never witnessed someone look so lost. “I would’ve remembered, I never drink that much.”

“So, I’m lying?” You scoff, throwing your hands in the air. As much as you're angry and want to continue fighting for your side. You’ve held on for so long to that little secret and now that it is out. You feel more exhausted than before.

Namjoon shakes his head. “I didn’t sleep with anyone that night. I would remember if I did.” He says more to himself. His head feels like it's being rewired a milliseconds at a time. Everything he’s thought up until this point feels foreign to him. He’s angry at himself, at Jungkook, and you. He’s trying to recall the events of that night. You told him you loved him with a starry look in your eyes. He turned you down in the worst way possible. He left. He went to the little speakeasy bar located in between a chinese-korean fusion restaurant and a lighting shop, by his apartment. He was approached by someone they talked a little and then he hits a black wall. He suspects that’s where the missing puzzle piece is hidden. He truly doesn’t remember ever going back to see you. Only that the next day he woke up woke up with the worst hangover of his life and Jungkook’s silent treatment that lasted more than two months.

“I really don-“

You lift a hand in defeat, and Namjoon’s words fall dead in the air. You let out a big sigh. “You don’t have to come up with any excuses to spare my feelings. What’s done is done. You don’t have to do all of this either.” You signal to your now forgotten breakfast and half packed lunch. “We can continue to pretend outside of this apartment, but we don’t have to try so hard to like each other and build something between the two of us. I’m sorry for suggesting it in the first place. I thought it would make things a lot easier but now I see that it won’t.” You say almost sadly before finally turning around and walking away.

It’s frustrating because even now he still lets you have the last word. He has so many things he wants to say, but his words are stunted with shock.

If Namjoon was born lucky, we would’ve stopped you from walking away from him again. He would’ve tried to convince you to call out of work so that the two of you could figure this out together. He’s never felt more serious about something before in his life–except for his research. He needs to know what happened during the second half of that night, and you’re the only one who seems to know.

Sadly, he wasn’t born lucky, and he loves to take the easy way out. He’s stuck watching your back, while his feet stay glued on the ground. He’s stuck with having to go about his day as if his world hasn’t just been flipped upside down by you.

There’s a rumor going around in the Literature/ Philosophy/Rhetoric department of HYBE U.

Professor Kim has stormed out of his classroom.

It was a lecture on aesthetics. Ancient aesthetics to be exact. It is one of his favorite’s to teach because he can talk about how beauty can be found in tragedy. It’s an immerseful lecture, it’s inspiring at all times. Namjoon loves to get lost in the philosophy of it all. You could almost say that he’s obsessed with how they believed that for one to be beautiful on the outside, they would need to be vicious on the inside. It proposes the questions:

Is beauty reflective of one's inner self or of what they desire? What lengths would you go to, to achieve that beauty?

Except on Monday for Namjoon’s first lecture of the day, he never made it that far. He never got the chance to hear his students' input, because he walked out ten minutes after walking into the lecture hall. He didn’t give anybody a warning. He didn’t pack up his stuff, he just stormed out, leaving behind a bewildered room of about twenty something pupils.

He hasn’t been seen since.

“I heard that one of Professor Kim’s parents died.”

“I heard that he was coming out of a weekend bender, I mean did you see how he was dressed. It’s like he just rolled out of bed.”

“I heard that it was a cocaine bender. I mean none of those crazy philosophy professors are sober.”

“Actually I heard Professor Kim’s fiance left him. She took advantage of him and then walked out on him this past weekend.”

Normally, contrary to popular belief you wouldn’t have thought twice about the rumors going around campus. Sure, you did tell Namjoon that you believed the rumors that were going around about him sleeping with multiple of the staff. Deep down you knew they weren’t true. At least to a certain extent, you won’t fault him for entertaining his desires.

Now as you’re making your way through the department the whispers only get louder from both faculty and students. The vicious stares only keep zeroing in the closer you get to your office, and if you have to hear one more person say something along the lines of: “Oh, she’s the one that took all his assets, look at her prancing around like she owns the world.” You will go insane.

Have they never seen a couples brawl before?

Though it does bother you to a certain extent. You didn’t leave him. You’re very much still with him. The only difference is the dynamics between the two of you. You only assume you’re being brought into this because you took a taxi to work rather than riding with him.

“I heard Professor Kim caught her with his step-brother, looks like she’s interested in good for nothing guys.”

You stop dead in your tracks, clutch onto your laptop case with an iron grip. Furious is an understatement you’re seething. You could ignore the things being said about you, knowing they would die down the minute they see the two of you together, but not the things being said about Jungkook.

Seriously, did they never fight with their significant other?

Yet, now that Jungkook is being thrown into the mix. You’re seeing red. So, instead of continuing your route to your office, you quickly turn, glaring at the person who just spewed the accusation, and make your way to Namjoon’s office.

You’re walking so fast that you’re there in seconds. You stare at the gold name plate in front of you. Dr. Namjoon Kim, it reads. You don’t let yourself admire it for a second longer because now you have an urgency that feels overwhelming. You knock so hard, your knuckles turn red. He opens on the third knock. His blue dress shirt is untucked, his tie forgotten on his desk. There are papers everywhere, yellow notepads sprawled all over the floor.

Jungkook is sitting at his desk, scrolling through the desktop.

Now you understand why Jungkook was suddenly being brought into the mess.

Namjoon is stunned, he’d been so out of it for the whole day, that he had forgotten that you worked with him in the same building. He’s been hiding out in his office, sending mass emails to all of his students, letting them know that due to ‘unforeseen circumstances’ he will be canceling all of his classes today.

Then, Jungkook showed up. His confusion lasted for a few seconds when he remembered that his brother’s sudden appearance wasn’t out of the blue.

Somewhere on his desk calendar were the words ‘Jungkook computer’ penciled in. It had completely slipped his mind that he had contacted the younger to set up the new desktop computer he had just bought. It required a set of skills that Namjoon d didn’t posses, and the only language he hasn’t bothered to learn, unlike his brother. The computer genius, Jungkook’s strongest forte. Those three semesters of computer coding classes didn’t go to waste. Only the amount of money he spent on them. He left them behind right before his last semester to earn a two year degree in photography, along with his parent’s disappointment.

“Can I come in?” You tilt your head gesturing to the inside of his office. He’s still looking at you wide-eyed, lost, and confused. Almost like he doesn’t quite understand why you are here. He thought he read the signs right this morning when he went to get you from your room to ask if you still wanted a ride to work. It was empty so he immediately took that as you not wanting to talk to him for a while.

Now, you were here standing in front of his office. It wasn’t even lunch time, and he knows you’ve already finished your last lecture of the day. Usually at this time you’re in your office waiting for him to finish, to go home together. It’s a routine that didn’t take long for him to memorize, especially because he had your work schedule printed out and pinned next to a picture of his family on the gray bulletin board of his office.

He is confused because you do want to talk to him now?

He doesn’t realize that he’s only been staring at you like a deer caught in headlights, without saying a word. His train of thought only breaks when you open your mouth again to ask the same question as before. “Um, yeah sure. Sorry about the mess. I think I lost some student papers.” He swallows, scratching the back of his head, as he steps to the side to let you in. He takes a deep breath before closing the door behind him, avoiding all the intrigued stares looking into his office in hopes to get a peak of the situation to add on to their fabricated stories.

“Hey Bunny, I was going to stop by your office to set up your new desktop in an hour.” Jungkook says, his eyes don’t leave the wide screen in front of him to know that you’re absolutely confused.

“I don’t have a new computer, Kook.” You say, walking up to Namjoon’s desk and setting your laptop in front of it.

Before Jungkook can answer and add onto your suspicions. Namjoon speaks up from behind you. “I bought you a new one when I bought mine. They both came in today so I asked Kook to come set them up since he’s the computer genius.”

You whip your head to face him, making him cringe. He hates that you look equally as shocked and annoyed at him. Truth be told he wasn’t thinking when he placed the order. He saw a good deal and took it. Thought that it would be a nice welcoming gift for you. Plus, speaking from experience, HYBE U’s faculty computers were so old that they never backed up anything. He’s lost so many hours of research in the years that he’s worked here.

“You didn’t have to do that Namjoon.” You sigh, shaking your head and making your way to one of his guest chairs. “But we can talk about that later because now that the two of you are here. We have something to discuss.”

This catches both of their attention. Namjoon stops looking through the old files in his filing cabinet, and Jungkook pauses his typing, indicating that you have their full undivided attention.

“Namjoon walked out of his lecture this morning. So, people are assuming the worst of you. And I’m guessing because someone saw Jungkook they’re also saying that I’m in some sort of love triangle with the two of you. Not to mention I am now a gold digger.” You let out a frustrated sigh, looking between the two of them. They look unfazed and it triggers something in you.

“My favorite one is the one where Namjoon is an alcoholic slash drug addict, slash mafia member.” Jungkook shrugs before returning to his typing, humming underneath his breath as he pulls up windows on windows of numbers and letters you can’t begin to understand.

You roll your eyes crossing your arms in front of you. “Don’t listen to them, they have nothing better to do than to assume.” Namjoon says, closing the filing cabinet and then moving on to the stacks of papers on his office floor. He sits down crossed legged, furrowing his brows as he begins to sort through them.

You scoff, “I understand that this is something that you are used to, but I’m not. My life was peaceful, rumor free before I got involved with you again. Now, I’m a gold digger, and a heartbreaker, and a mafia leaders wife.”

Namjoon slams the stack of papers he had been holding down on his carpeted floor. He’s been on edge since your big reveal this morning. He understands your frustration, but what is he supposed to do? Go out into the lobby and tell everyone that the real reason why the two of you are arguing is because ten years ago he confessed that he was in love with you and doesn’t remember a thing. And that the reason why things don’t make sense in your relationship is because your engagement isn’t real, and that the two of you are only together for personal and financial gain. Truthfully, it will only fuel the rumors more. And from personal experience, he’s learned to ignore them because eventually they’ll die down.

“There’s nothing we can do, but ignore them. They’re baseless and people will forget about them by tomorrow.” He pleas, running a stressed hand through his hair. He really needs to find those student papers. He didn’t realize they were missing until he came back from his lecture this morning. This stress is only adding onto the stress of the missing memories from ten years ago. He wants the whole world to hide away until he can figure shit out for himself.

“Maybe if the two of you stopped fighting people will stop making up rumors. I heard the two of you came to work in separate cars.” Jungkook suggests with a shrug. It only adds to your annoyance.

“There’s a reason for that.” You grumble.

“I’m sure there is but you guys are doing such a shitty job at this whole engagement thing. So, you better sort your shit out before it somehow reaches mom and dad.”

You roll your eyes and move to sit on the floor in front of Namjoon. Your heart aches to see the stress lines form all across his forehead. You wish you had been a bit nicer to him this morning, but the adrenaline from your reveal was doing most of the talking. If what he claims to be true. That he doesn’t remember anything then your heart aches for him. You know what it’s like to have pieces of your memories go missing. You’ve been where he has been before, and it takes a lot of brain power and willpower to not give up.

“Do you need help?” You whisper, crossing your legs in front of you. Namjoon lifts his head, nodding at your question before moving onto the next stack of papers. He’s never been this careless before. He’s always been so meticulous with his work and again if the university’s online submission system wasn’t so faulty he wouldn’t be having this problem.

“Do you remember the last time you had them?”

Namjoon shakes his head, running a hand down his face. “They turned them in last week, I swear they were on my desk, and I don’t remember taking them anywhere.”

You nod, starting to sort through another stack of papers. You have no idea what you’re supposed to be looking for. The fault of essays is that they’re all formatted the same way thanks to university guidelines. But you guess giving him the illusion that he has an extra pair of hands and eyes helping him makes him feel more calm.

“What day last week?”

“Thursday.”

A lightbulb goes off in your head. “Joon, didn't you come to my office right after your lecture on Thursday. I think you might’ve left them there. I haven’t been to my office yet, so I don’t know but we can check.”

Namjoon feels like a wave of relief has passed through him. He’s up instantly and full of hope as he extends his hand for you to take. “I hope you’re right, I really need to start grading them before their final papers come in.” He says, while you take his hand and you let him pull you up.

“Looks like we’re going on a family field trip through a sea of gossip.” Jungkook says from behind the two of you. “I’m done setting up your computer, I need to get to yours Bun, Joon and I have a gym session in an hour.” He says looking down at his smart watch, swiping through the tiny screen.

It makes you shudder at how official he looks. You’ve never seen him so calculated and organized before.

“You’re going to the gym?” You tilt your head as Namjoon interlaces his fingers with yours and opens the door to his office. You don’t question it, knowing it’s probably because it will put a rest to the rumors once and for all. It makes you tingle a little bit even though you know it’s all for show.

Namjoon nods as he steps out with you. “I forgot to tell you, but I can drop you off at home and then pick you up to go to the grocery store.”

You shake your head, following his lead as he moves towards your office with ease. Avoiding all the whispers and glares going on around you. “That’d be a waste of time and gas. I can just go with you to the gym and then we can go from there.”

“I don’t want you to get bored.” He’s sincere about it. He knows you’re not a fan of gyms ever since you were young. He knows you hate the smell of them and the testosterone that gets released into the air by all the men that are trying to compete with one another. Seokjin’s gym is no different.

You shrug, and open the door to your office. “I’ll just run on the treadmill and then bother Seokjin until he kicks me out.” You grin, stepping in. He follows behind you along with Jungkook who has a shit eating grin on his face.

Jungkook closes the door behind him. “Good job team, that’s more like it. You two make a very good and fake loving couple. I just saw all the jealous glares following the two of you. I can assure that all those rumors bothering you today will be forgotten by the time we all leave. Or worse, considering I heard some gasps and the accusation of us being a throuple thrown out there. ” He shrugs and lifts his hands up for a high-five, which the two of you ignore, with a roll of your eyes.

“People need to learn how to whisper.” You shake your head in disbelief before untangling your fingers from Namjoon’s. You spot the box of your new desktop on one of your guest chairs, and you guess it had been delivered to your office by the mail department while you were in class. As annoyed as you are about Namjoon spending his money on you. You’re still grateful he even thought of you in the first place.

Before you can admit defeat and give him your thanks, Namjoon is making a beeline to your empty bookshelf. A stack of papers, neatly placed on one of the shelves. He picks them up and lets out a sigh of relief. He must’ve placed them there while he was waiting for you last Thursday. It’s no wonder you hadn’t really spotted them because they weren’t in your line of sight.

“Found them?” You ask, stepping to the side as Jungkook soundlessly moves behind you to get to your desk.

“Yes, fuck, thank you for helping me.” Namjoon says. “Is it okay if I go back to my office to start grading them?” His question throws you off guard. Why would he need your permission? You nod, and he rushes out a quick thanks before he’s disappearing again, leaving you behind with Jungkook.

For a few minutes there’s an air of silence, apart from Jungkook’s angry mumbles as he assesses the mess of cables. Until he speaks up from under your desk. “You know, the rumors bothered him more than he let on.”

You turn around quickly and walk to where he is kneeling. “What do you mean?”

“Before you came in, he was huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf and mumbling about how everyone was stupid for assuming things.” He shrugs, “I think he didn’t want you to worry so much, which is why he told you to ignore them.”

You don’t answer. Instead, you sit down on the floor beside him, watching as he untangles and unplugs cables. “Did you hear the one about him selling his left kidney to the black market?”

Jungkook laughs, looking at you from over his shoulder. “It was so specific, I honestly couldn’t ignore it. I mean why not the right one?”

You laugh, taking the cable he tosses at you.

Namjoon can feel the droplets of sweat roll down the sides of his face. He hates sweating. Scratch that he hates that his body naturally runs hot, resulting in sweating even when standing still, It gets worse during the summer months. Though, in this instance he isn’t just standing. He’s in an intense sparring match with Jungkook.

After leaving your office. He managed to tidy up and grade at least three papers. The hour was up before he knew it and he was driving the three of you to Seokjin’s gym. The session started off simple, but then he saw that you had changed into gym clothes and for some reason his brain short circuited. He found himself pushing himself more when you looked in his direction and trying his best to get your attention whenever it wasn’t on him.

He doesn’t necessarily understand where this animalistic desire to hunt came from. He just knows that he probably looks like those annoying jocks with an inflated ego. And now you’re behind the gym’s front desk, laughing at something the owner is saying. His pit bubbles up with something undesirable and his hits only get stronger.

He wants your attention.

“Want to tell me why the two of you fought this morning?” Jungkook says out of breath, his words muffled from the navy mouth guard. He steps a few feet away from his brother, hands up protecting his face.

Namjoon understands every word, and he knows his brother had been dying to ask since he stepped into his office earlier that day.

“It’s nothing.” Namjoon shrugs, moving in to land a punch on his shoulder only for it to be blocked by the younger. Sometimes, Namjoon really hates sparring with Jungkook. He can’t begin to understand how the younger’s reflexes are so fast. It’s like he can predict where he is going to hit before Namjoon even thinks about it. He prefers Seokjin, but he’s chatting you up behind the counter. This thought has him charging forward again and Jungkook blocks it again.

Fuck, why is he so good at everything?

Jungkook, steps forward landing a punch to the side of Namjoon’s ribs, and he lets out a huff of pain. “It didn’t seem like nothing, it wasn’t like those petty fights the two of you have been having. It's more right?” He side steps, dodging Namjoon’s hit, and he lets out another frustrated groan. “You’re too slow.” The younger chuckles.

“Maybe you’re just freakishly fast, idiot.” He rolls his eyes, before taking a step back. He lets out a big sigh shaking his head. Wordlessly letting his brother know that he needs a moment. If this was a different day Namjoon could go hours without stopping. But every now and then his body asks for a break.

Jungkook nods before removing one of his gloves and mouth guard. “Are you going to tell me or will I have to live in the dark forever.”

“Why do you want to know?”

“So, I can help of course.” Jungkook replies with a hint of arrogance, a smirk making its way onto his face.

Namjoon sighs as he sits down against the wall, taking off his gloves and setting them to the side. Jungkook joins him, bringing his knees up to his chest, patiently waiting for his brother to answer.

Sometimes it’s funny how things work. Who would’ve thought that the two brother’s from different mother’s would one day grow to depend on each other so much. Despite Jungkook being younger than him, he somehow always had helpful advice.

“Apparently told her that I loved her the same night I told her I could never love her.” He whispers, picking at the gauze on his hands. He ignores Jungkook’s shock, it’s enough to know that he didn’t know and that truly the only one who knew was you. Before he can let his brother get a word in he continues to talk. “I don’t remember that, I don’t remember any of it and it’s scaring me.” He admits, bringing his knees up to his chest.

“What do you mean you don’t remember that. It seems like a pretty big thing to just forget.” Jungkook offers just as equally as confused as him.

“Apparently you called her asking about my whereabouts because my one night stand wouldn’t leave.” Namjoon adds and it triggers a memory Jungkook forgot he had. He does remember being furious at his older brother. Not only because earlier that night you had called him to tell him everything. It only added to his anger when he found a strange woman on his couch.

“How do you not remember that?” Jungkook questions again, sitting up straighter. He remembers the anger he felt then. He remembers picking up his brother at your parents house. And he remembers how drunk Namjoon had been, which only made matters worse because he was uncontrollable and winning like a baby as he hauled him into their shared car. He remembers your tear stained face, and your hardened features. He remembers being afraid of never seeing you again because of his brother and his mistakes. He also remembers everything that spiraled out of control after that night. All the nights you were physically and emotionally in pain. He remembers it so vividly, that he’s so annoyed that his brother doesn’t.

Was that moment so insignificant that he was able to forget it in seconds?

Namjoon sighs, closing his eyes. “I swear on mom and dad’s life, on my career, on my fucking life Kook that I don’t remember anything after I left her house the first time. I don’t remember ever getting home from the bar or bringing somebody home.” There is a mess of emotions going on inside of him, but the main one is fear.

Jungkook turns his head to face his brother. He can see the inner turmoil written all over his face, as much as he felt anger back then. He can’t help but feel a little guilty. What if after all these years his anger was misplaced?

“What are you implying?” Jungkook whispers.

“I don’t know, I don’t want to know. I’ve gone through so many scenarios in my head.” He sets his head on top of his arms resting on his knees. The only thing that he can come up with that makes sense is the one thing he wants to ignore. “Maybe I was drugged.” He whispers. In seconds Jungkook’s arms are around him and he’s bringing him closer. He didn’t know that one day he would’ve had to go through this again, let alone with his brother.

He feels angry again, this time at himself for not thinking twice about everything, and to the people who keep hurting the ones he loves. “I’m sorry Joon, I’m sorry for being such an ass to you. I should’ve–”

“You couldn’t have done anything Kook. You don’t normally think about things like this happening to men, let alone people who look like me. I also don’t know if that’s entirely true.”

“It doesn’t matter Joon, someone still took advantage of you.”

“You don’t know that. Maybe that’s just me making shit up in my head to understand why I can’t remember the second half of events that night.” Namjoon sighs, sitting up straight and unwraps the gauze around his knuckles. “Don’t feel sorry for me.”

Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. “Joon, one day you’re going to realize that you don’t have to fight all of your battles on your own. Whatever happened that night, whatever made you lose your memories that night. You don’t have to go through that alone. You don’t have to put yourself through that agony. You have people around you that will always be there for you.” He says, spotting you laughing at something Seokjin was saying, your short ponytail bouncing while you shake. It took so long for you to smile and laugh like that, and he never wants that smile to disappear again. “You don’t have to make up excuses or say it’s not a big deal. If you believe that’s what happened to you, knowing yourself, then that’s what happened. It might be too late to go back to that time and fix our wrongs, but we can start fresh from this moment on. I know will understand and want that too.” Jungkook finishes, nodding in your direction.

Namjoon follows his younger brother's gaze. He catches you staring at them. At him. The second your eyes meet, you send him a smile, ignoring whatever nonsense Seokjin is spewing at you. It’s a silent conversation, only the two of you understand. He knows that even though things from this morning still need to be resolved, that Jungkook is right.

“When did you get so wise?” Namjoon looks over at him.

Jungkook, sits up taller, puffing his chest out, out of pride from the subtle praise. He flexes his arms in front of him before responding. “Mom says it’s because this isn’t my first life.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes before standing up, grabbing his equipment with him and extends a hand for him to take. “Whatever, I’m going to have to cut our session short.” He pulls the doe-eyed man up with ease, before glancing over his shoulder where you’re now organizing the gym’s merchandise. No doubt that you have somehow been recruited by the owner himself to do the thing he finds most annoying. He smiles wide, looks at his suspecting brother.

“I have to go grocery shopping”

As gross as it sounds, Namjoon didn’t bother changing out of his gym clothes. He was in such a hurry that all he did was wet his hair in the sink and wipe the sweat from his face. He acknowledges that he might’ve smelled a little too much like a man, but he wouldn’t know because you haven’t made a face or brought it up. You’re simply scanning the aisles, and referring to your phone while he pushes the cart next to you.

“What meals do you want to have this week?” You ask, as you stop walking out of curiosity. He had been so hyper focused on the way that he might’ve smelled that he forgot to ask you that on the car ride over. Now, he is drawing a blank. He’s sure he looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Pasta?” He tilts his head to the side, making you laugh. You should’ve known the only thing he’s really confident in making is pasta. When he told you that Seokjin had been teaching him how to cook, you expected more knowledge of different meals. Not more knowledge on different kinds of pasta.

“How about I decide and you just continue to help me push the cart.” You suggest, giving his shoulder a pat and then start walking again. He forgot the other reason he had been so distracted, until now. You also hadn’t changed from your workout clothes. Not that it mattered because you hadn’t actually worked out. Apart from the thirty minutes on the treadmill before getting distracted by Seokjin, and being roped into odd jobs around the gym.

There should be no reason why your ass looks as good as it did in those wine colored leggings. Or why they somehow hugged your waist perfectly. And why is your black shirt so tight? He feels troubled.

“I’m thinking that we can make a bunch of power bowls for lunch this week, and then I don’t know what for dinner.” You say with a pensive hand on your chin.

“I can make mandu soup one night? Mom showed me how to make it a few years ago.” He adds on, looking at the frozen packs of different types of dumplings. Personally, his favorite ones are the kimchi ones. “But Seokjin also wants me to start fasting, so maybe I can just make you dinner.” He ends, looking over to his side where you’ve taken it upon yourself to open one of the freezer doors. He smiles when you shudder at the sudden cool breeze hitting your arms.

“I can just fast with you.” You shrug, showing him the mixed bag of dumplings. He nods in approval and you hum while setting it down in the cart. He watches as you pull your phone out of the band of your leggings, and check something off from the list on your phone.

Namjoon starts to push the cart again once you step to the side. He feels you come beside him, and from the corner of his eye he sees you place your hand on the cart handle. A little too close to his. “You don’t need to fast with me,” he stops for a second to gather his thoughts. He’s finally beginning to learn that with you he needs to do that before he starts to spew out nonsense. “I don’t want you to fast with me. You don’t need to and it helps me if I make food for you.” He shrugs, looking ahead because he’s positive that he catches the little warmth that hides behind your indifferent stare; he will melt in this frozen aisle of the grocery store.

“Fine, I’ll do a baby fast after I eat dinner, no more midnight snacks and cookies, and icecream.” You decide, and he can’t argue with that because once you have your mind set on something, he knows he won’t be able to change it.

“We can have cookies and ice cream on the weekend.” He pouts, while you open another freezer door and take out two bags, one of frozen pieces of korean pumpkin, and another of frozen pieces of sweet potato. He makes a face, knowing they’re his least favorite but now he understands why you suggested making power bowls for lunch this entire week.

Seokjin must’ve gotten into your head and your grocery list.

He sees you pause before setting the bags into the cart. The wheels visibly turn in your head and you look at him brightly. “Can we make a pit stop before going home?”

Home.

To Namjoon the word feels so foreign and familiar coming from your mouth. If he’s being honest he’s never pictured building a home with anyone in his life. So, why did it feel so right when you said it? He must be trippin. He must be still running on the endorphins of his workout. He must still be thinking about the past Namjoon who confessed without knowledge. He must still be trying to justify his actions to find an answer, because there’s still a little part of him that doesn’t believe he ever said he was in love.

In his thirty years of life he’s never been in love. He can’t begin to explain what love feels like because he doesn’t think he’s ever experienced it. Yet, there’s the part of him that is yelling at him, annoyed for ignoring all the signs that were already there. Ever since this morning he’s been in a constant battle with himself. Teetering over the edge of letting himself feel again and keeping all of his feelings locked up like a constipated kid who had too much chocolate before dinner.

He can’t deny that it will just be easier if he lets go, but he wasn’t lying when he told Jungkook he was scared. Scared that something had been taken from him and he didn’t know about it for years. Why must life and love be so complicated? Why couldn’t you have one without the other? He’s always been a simple man. A simple university professor for the later half of his life. And here he was contemplating his life altogether like he was going through the midlife crisis he had when he was twenty five again.

It’s all so tiring, but he supposes this is karma for dedicating his life to philosophy. He overthinks everything and runs himself in circles looking for answers only to end up with more questions.

Sigh.

Namjoon realizes he didn’t answer your question, when you shrug and keep walking. He has to catch up to you with only a few steps before he’s back next to you. Your hand comes up to the handle with practice and you look up at him. The same question burning behind your curious stare.

“Yes, where do you want to go?”

You smile brightly, clapping your hands in front of you. “There’s a really small fruit stand by the apartment, the ahjussi there sells the best sweet potatoes in the world.” You explain with such joy that he can’t help but feel excited as well. “I want to eat only that for dinner. I’ve really been craving it for weeks now. Jungkook used to bring me some whenever he came over after visiting you.”

Namjoon’s mouth opens in understanding and he nods. “Well, you can’t just have that for dinner. You need to eat something else.” He tilts his head and begins to push the grocery cart again.

You pout letting out a whine. “But I literally don’t want anything else except for that. I’ll even eat all three. He always gives an extra one. So, I’ll eat all four.” You follow behind him, as he lets out a chuckle.

“I know you well enough to know that if you do end up eating all four you’ll complain about your stomach hurting for the rest of the night. I’ll make you some tteokbokki.” He offers, pulling open a freezer door and taking out frozen bags of rice cakes and fish cakes.

You wave your hands in front of him. “We are totally derailing from our grocery list.”

“That’s what happens when we come to the store hungry and without a plan.” Namjoon overrides your arms and puts the bags into the cart basket.

You huff. “I did have a plan.”

“The one Seokjin gave you is not a plan but more like a work in progress.” Namjoon counteracts before moving. “Come on, We still need to get vegetables, fruits and some sort of protein. Unless you want to eat a whole weeks worth of frozen food.” He lifts an eyebrow almost as if he’s challenging you.

You roll your eyes, hitting his back lightly. “Next time, I’m going to make the best grocery plan in the world so that you won’t be able to infiltrate it.” You state before walking in front of him, your face furrowed in determination.

It's at this moment, in which Namjoon realizes that maybe letting go wouldn’t be such a bad thing. He’s already been halfway there since the infamous kiss and his talk with Jungkook. He might as well just go in head first fearlessly. Something tells him that at the end of the day it will be worth it.

So, he laughs and follows you, like it’s second nature.

In the end, Namjoon didn’t start his fast. In fact he was so hungry that he practically begged for you to split the sweet potatoes with him. He knows you won’t finish all four and they smelled so sweet that it made his mouth water.

Now, you’re both sitting in front of his coffee table, picking at the almost empty pot of rice cakes. Namjoon had practically scraped it clean with the left over rice he had fished out of the fridge. There’s an almost empty bottle of wine in between the two of you as you silently digest your meal.

“I think we should talk.” You look over at him bringing your knees up to your chest, hugging them. You’ve already showered and changed out of your workout clothes sporting an old t-shirt and gray sweatpants. Your hair is still slightly wet, curling at the ends due to the humidity because Namjoon refuses to turn on the aircon until he’s about to fall asleep to conserve electricity.

Namjoon hums, setting down his chopsticks on a napkin, he turns his body to face you, signaling that he agrees with a nod of his head.

“Can I start?” Namjoon tilts his head in question, setting down his chopsticks on the holder in front of him. You weren’t expecting for him to want to go first, especially because he always hated confrontation. He always hated admitting fault, something the two of you have in common. But for some reason it always came easy when it was just the two of you.

You nod your head as a signal for him to continue talking. He takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry for telling you all those things back then. I regretted it the moment they came out of my mouth. I wanted to apologize but I was too much of a coward and I ran away.” He confesses in one breath, bringing his knees up to his chest.

Your heart feels like it's been pierced by a thousand arrows. Each one making the dent deeper. This was the apology you had longed for for years. Not the handwritten one he sent with Jungkook. You had dreamed about it and wondered if you would have ever given him a second chance if he simply just looked you in your eyes and apologized. Yet, the logical part of you knew better. It knew that even if the apology came in any sort of form, you wouldn’t accept it.

The damage was done and you were already spiraling into your black hole with no way out. Until that one silver lining after the unfortunate incident in which you called Jungkook sobbing to pick you up from the stranger's house.

The apology you ever so wanted to hear out loud, meant nothing. Though, that didn't mean you didn’t appreciate it. It was just a little too late.

“I can’t accept your apology Namjoon.” You start, holding your hand up to stop him from speaking up, his mouth hangs open. “But thank you. It took so many years for me to let it go and accept that you will never be in my life again.” You chuckle. “It’s ironic because here we are.” You signal to your surroundings. “I won’t lie you hurt me so much but I ended up hurting myself more. I took your words to heart and spent countless nights thinking I was unlovable but never truly believing it until someone showed me I was only a disposable body to them.” You take a deep breath, closing your eyes.

Namjoon lets out a shaky breath. “Y-You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He whispers, unsure if he can give you a hug because things are starting to make sense.

You shake your head. “It’s okay, I can talk about it now.” You whisper, your voice faltering in the end. You clear it and continue. “I went out with some people I thought were my friends. The night started out fine, we went for dinner and then decided to hit some clubs. By the third club, I was so drunk that I only remember pieces of it, but I remember enough. I approached him, I made out with him. He told me he and his friends lived outside of the city and if I wanted to come over. I said yes. My friends saw us leaving and they tried to stop me but then pushed me to go, so I did.” You tighten your hold around your arms a little more. “Every time I think about that night. I only remember all the times I could’ve avoided the outcome. We didn’t leave right away. We waited for his friends on some stairs and there was this ajumma who kept telling me not to go, to get away from him. And I didn’t, I stayed. I got in the car, I went into the apartment. I sat on his couch. I then laid in his bed. One of his friends came into the room and he asked me if I was okay and that if I wasn’t he would call me a taxi to go back home, but I declined. That was my last out and I decided to stay.” You rest your chin against your knees, blinking back tears. Though, you’ve partially healed from this moment. It still sits fresh in your mind. You don’t remember his face or his name but there are nights in which your head isn’t screwed on right and you remember the acid burn of his touch.

“It didn’t happen right away, but when it did I first begged him to stop because he wasn’t wearing protection. He kept going and going, while I yelled. He finally stopped when he was pleased and my stomach was stained with him. He got up, went to the bathroom, came back and fell asleep. I laid there paralyzed, feeling the naive girl in me break with every breath that I took. I didn’t know what to do. I somehow convinced myself that it was okay, and I didn’t call your brother until the following morning. I don’t really remember if I slept or not. I don’t remember getting up and getting dressed. All I remember is waking up in your brother's bed with him, Jimin and Tae sleeping on the ground.” You finish, running your thumb underneath your eyes to wipe away the remaining tears.

It’s amazing how every time you talk about it, it always feels like you can start anew. Like you’re still subconsciously carrying that weight and it only gets lighter when you let it out. Still, there’s some part of you that is terrified to look over at Namjoon. You aren’t sure if you should’ve said anything or if it was too soon.

What you don’t expect him to say is, “Can I give you a hug?” Because despite his heart being able to hold different kinds of what he thinks could be love. Affection and comfort is not his strong suit. So, you nod and melt into his arms when they circle around your shoulders gently. It feels ghostly. Like they’re not really there because he’s afraid you’ll break. But he’s always been full of surprises and lately as much as you hate to admit it he’s been surprising you a lot. Both in good and bad ways.

He rests his cheek on top of your head and closes his eyes, sniffling. He started crying eons ago. His eyes were already watering from the start and yet he still has nothing to say. “I’m sorry, you were never unlovable. I shouldn’t have said that.” He whispers, “You were the most precious person in my life at the time and I was afraid of losing you, but I guess I did so anyway. I hate that I wasn’t there for you, and I know that if I hadn’t said what I said, you wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place.” He whispers into your hair, finally letting go of his fear and hugging you tightly.

“It’s not your fault Joon.”

“And it’s not yours either.” He counteracts, twinkling his fingertips down your arm, his hand encases around yours, spreading your palm to fit his fingers in between the spaces of your own. “I’m sorry for kissing you the other night and being such an asshole about it after. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay, you didn’t know.” You grin, sniffling.

Namjoon sighs, before finally intertwining his fingers with yours. I’m sorry for telling you that I loved you and then not remembering it. But please believe me when I tell you that I didn’t sleep with anyone that night I really don't remember ever bringing somebody home. I don’t know what happened, if I was drugged or if I really drank to the point of blacking out, but I really don’t remember.” He says almost begging towards the end. You hold his hand tighter and nod your head in acknowledgment.

The strings of your heart start being plugged like the strings of a guitar that is out of tune. You hope with everything in your being that nothing like what happened to you happened to him, because you know what it feels like. You know what it feels like to lose that part of you and spend years looking for it. Only to realize that it’s gone and never coming back. Only to realize that the one thing you can do is let go and build it up again piece by piece. This time stronger.

“I’m sorry, Joon, I don’t know if we will ever know but I can be there for you if you ever do end up remembering something.” You hold him tighter and he does the same with you. You stay like that basking in the silence that’s grown to be a sort of comfort in the past few hours. You forget about all of the fights and snarky comments. Except for the one prying question you’ve had lingering in the back of your mind.

“Can I ask you something?” You tilt your head to the side, his face is so close to yours that you can still smell the wine and kimchi lingering in his breath.

“Anything.” He grins, moving his head a little up to give himself a little more view of your eyes. They’re twinkling like the midnight skies the two of you used to wish the city had. He never found the stars with the amount of light pollution from all the skyscrapers, but he always found them in your eyes.

His heart jumps.

“Did you really mean it that night?” You begin, “That you loved me.” You whisper the last part so low that he’s thankful the house is silent because otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to hear you.

Namjoon is at a crossroads. He’s unsure of what to say or what the correct answer should be. Yet, he doesn’t want to lie, and remembers the promise he made tonight with Jungkook sitting by his side.

Let go.

“I loved you the minute we sat in that coffee shop, mourning over our unfortunate break ups while sharing that stupid cake.”

For the second time since entering each other's life, both of you give in. Instead of him being the one to move first. It’s you.

You hesitate, until he nods in approval and finally you kiss him.

[pancakes4two]

figured it was about time i write a dadrry blurb. look out for a short fic to accompany this as well! face claim is summer rachel warren 🤍

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harrystan OMG WHAT WHAT QHAT

harryflorals WE WERE NOT EXPECTING THIS!!!

harryfan1 A LITTLE BABY HARRIET

hsdaily CONGRATULATIONS

harris_reed divine mother ⭐️

yourbff the hardest secret to keep.. so happy for you

gigihadid congrats MAMA!!

kyliejenner playdates soon ❤️‍🔥

harrystyles

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harrystyles Baby Styles. Coming to a belly near you.

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harrystan HE’S SO GOOFY

harrygirl casually breaks the internet w/ a baby announcement at 9am on a monday

harryfan1 this is the most harry way to announce a pregnancy ever

harryfan2 in a few months there’s going to be a tiny little harry running around and i’m not ready for it

niallhoran So overjoyed for you, congrats man.

jefezoff 👶🏻

liampayne My brother!! All the love to you

kaiagerber Oh yes

zendaya Couple of the year becomes family of the year

taylorswift What a beautiful mama. So happy for your family ❤️

beyonce ❤️

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enews Harry Styles was papped this morning rushing off to the airport in between two sold out nights at the Kia Forum. A source close to the star said his girlfriend, Y/N L/N went into labor late last night, and we can only assume he’s jetting off to support her through her birth. Do we think they’re having a boy or girl?

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harrystan IT’S HAPPENING OMFG IT’S HAPPENINGGGGGGGG

harryfan1 SHE HASN’T POSTED ON STORIES IN 24 HOURS IT’S DEFINITELY HAPPENING

harryfan2 he’s going to be a dad so soon omg i’m so sick with excitement

harry4ever can you imagine him with a little baby girl 🥺

harryfan5 ok but a boy would be so cute too like what if he’s literally just the tiny version of harr😢😢😢😢

harryfan6 nooooo i hope my show doesn’t get postponed

harrygirl The fact that y’all are worrying about shows when he’s going to the birth of his literal CHILD is concerning. Read the room

yourinstagram

Liked by harrystyles, annetwist and 14,892,717 others

yourinstagram baby beau styles is here and he is everything we could have possibly ever dreamed of & so much more.

a little backstory behind the second picture: last week, exactly 7 days before my due date, harry scheduled a 2-day break from his tour. i thought nothing of it, figured he was just taking some well-deserved time off—we all know how hard he works. it turns out, he did just about everything but rest. he spent nearly all of those forty-eight hours in the studio, recording lullabies for our yet-to-be-born son. he took his golden voice and pressed it into vinyl form, so our baby can fall asleep every night knowing he is so loved and safe with us.

so incredibly thankful for my body for nurturing sweet beau until he was ready to join us earthside. i keep counting his little fingers and toes and thinking he is the greatest gift life could have ever given me. half of me + half of h. one perfect tiny human.

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annetwist ❤️

gemmastyles Time for me to get into the Aunt Gem uniform.

harrystyles The greatest gift. Couldn’t be more in love.

yourbff stop it!!!!!!!! need to know what’s on the record now!!!!!

yourinstagram he recorded beautiful boy, sweet creature, and songbird. how did i get so lucky.

harrystan I ACTUALLY NEED TO BE SEDATED THIS IS THE SWEETEST CAPTION I HAVE EVER READ

harryfan1 IT’S A BOYYYYY!!! BABY BEAU🥺🥺🥺🥺

harryfan2 congrats y/n you’re gonna make the greatest mama

harryfan3 y/n don’t be shy let us make bootleg copies of the vinyl

yourinstagram thank u all for all the love🤍🤍🤍 my heart feels so full.

TAGLIST:

@crazygirlinthisworld @grapejuice-rry @b-reads-things @s8tellite @olivialovesh

[4town4lyfe]

feelings at the cabin, chapter one - Escape 2 Solitude

so some clarifying things, this story is in imanis pov

my age 4 the band

jesse - 26

aaron z - 23

aaron t - 23

robaire - 22

imani - 22

tae young - 18

Aaron Z is referred to as 'Z'

Aaron T is referred to as 'Aaron'

dont wanna spoil so early but this is gonna turn into aaron t x imani x aaron z, kk?

also, this is set in modern times, the band concept is y2k and late 90s early 00s, so nothing changed about them except the time period

aaron t and imani r in an established relationship already, so i gotta do something to that lol

let me know if there r any mistakes or if u want me to either add something or take it out

ill only be writing on here cuz this is the only place i can find with active 4town lovrz lol

sorry if anything is out of character, i gotta do what i gotta do

enjoy reading :)

Every December, we go to the cabin to get away from the fame and prying eyes of the paparazzi and crazed fans, spend time with one another, and have a sense of peace.

As much as I love our fans, it gets overwhelming, and our trips each year give us some solace among one another.

This year was supposed to be like every year. But it wasn’t. Something was threatening to tear us apart, and I couldn’t help but feel it would be my fault. 

As we drive farther and farther away from the city, I can feel my heart pounding. Why do I feel so nervous? 

I turn my music up in my ears to drown out the worry I feel. I glance over at Aaron T, who is  already staring at me. Staring at me with a loving look, he places his hand on mine and pecks me on my cheek. 

He starts to tell me a joke, and I can’t help but to laugh. He was always so funny and kind. He still is, I’ll never not think that. As he nods off to sleep, I look at him, his freckles more apparent and his cute curly hair that is slightly messy. 

But I still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Something is wrong with me? But what? I.. I don’t know. Maybe it’s this bus, with all six of us in here, it’s a little cramped, maybe that’s it. 

I feel my stomach growl. Maybe I’m just hungry. Or tired. “Everything’s fine.” I tell myself as I admire my boyfriend as he snoozes away, snoring softly. My eyes wander around the bus. 

There’s Tae Young, making his little stuffed bunny dance to the music on the radio. He always takes Byeol on our trips, she’s like a comfort to him, I guess. Nothing wrong with that. 

Tae loves these trips, mainly because he can get away from his father. His father doesn’t deserve Tae Young as a son, he’s so sweet and kind, but all his father sees is the nail polish and the singing.

I don’t like his father, his mother either. They don’t like the idea of their son being a singer, but I’m so proud of him for continuing to pursue his dreams and follow his heart.

I glance at Jesse, his hair slightly blowing in the wind since he has his window down, before Robaire tells him to roll it up. I don’t know why Jesse likes the cold, it’s like he’s Elsa in disguise. 

Jesse is like the father of the group, mainly to Tae, but also me. Me and Robaire never had a father in our life, having walked out, not wanting his kids to be singers.

So, our mother tried to make us be anything but singers, neglecting the love and attention you need from your mother. 

Then the money came in once we got signed as 4*TOWN, then she was all with it. But she’s always treated me different then Robaire.

I zone out for a little bit, thinking about my childhood, when I feel someone tapping my knee, I look up and it’s Aaron Z, nodding his head toward Robaire, who is turned toward me. Wait, so is Jesse and Tae, why are they staring? 

I take off my headphones and put them down beside me. “What’s wrong?” I question, confused as to why everyone, except Aaron T of course since he’s such a heavy sleeper, is looking at me.

“I called you like four times!” Robaire says with a hint of annoyance to his voice. “What? You know I had my headphones on.” I say, I always tell people I can’t hear them with my headphones on, and they don’t seem to get it.

“Someones gotta go into grab snacks? You’re the designated one, you hit your head or something?” Robaire says as if it was obvious, gesturing to the gas station we stopped at. 

“I didn’t hit my head.’’ I say, I don’t know why he thinks I hit my head, if I did, I wouldn’t be talking. Would I? I didn’t even realize we stopped anyways. “What do you guys want?” I ask, hesitantly ripping out a sheet from my sketchbook.

I look out to get a closer look at the gas station, this is a different one than what we usually stop at. Why do we have to go to a new place? I don’t even know what they have here!

But I know they won’t just leave because I don't like it, so I get everyones requests down with a small frown, my day feeling a little worse than before. I pull on my disguise, just a hoodie, a toque, and sunglasses, and climb over Aaron Z to get out, he leans back a little so it’s easier.

I look down at my list as I walk into the gas station, the door automatically opening with a welcoming ding. I go down one by one, first is Aaron T, I already know what he wants so I didn’t have to wake him up, it’s a hassle to. 

I walk down the aisles, he usually gets the big bag of nacho Doritos, a Mountain Dew, and a bag of… I reach up to a shelf, got them, Dubble Bubble bubblegum, I always steal some of his, so I grab the biggest bag I can. I drop them in the basket. 

Next is Z. He’s a simple guy, salted plantains and a Coke. Hard to find plaintains, especially in a gas station, but I surprisingly find them. I drop them in my basket and think about what I want. Wait, gotta go through the list.

Next up is… I glance back down at my list. Tae. Haribo Berries, Hi-Chews, and a Minute Maid, pink lemonade flavor. He really likes fruit flavored things, I can’t judge, but I'm more of a chocolate girl. I place them in my basket and look down at my list, when I notice two women about my age, oddly close to me beginning to whisper. 

Great.

I walk out of that aisle as quick as I can, looking back down at my list. Next up is Jesse. He’s like an old man sometimes, all he wants is beef jerky, and a diet Pepsi. Not my taste, but again, I cant judge. I know Robaire is next, all he wants is a big bag of Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles, and a Coke.

Yay, my turn! I always get the same thing at gas stations, a Pepsi, a bag of chips I’m feeling in that moment, tonight will be… I scan the rows and rows of chips, before landing on a bag of Takis. Spice is nice. I grab them, before going back to the candy aisle to grab me a Hershey's chocolate bar. 

As I grab the chocolate bar and set my basket on the counter, I feel a finger tap me on my shoulder. I turn to see those two girls from earlier, but as I turn, their faces distort from excitement to disappointment.

“Can I help you?” I say, waiting for the seemingly dumbfounded girls to say something so I can leave and I can get away. 

One of the girls look at me with a weird expression, seemingly disgusted. The other girl speaks up. “Sorry, we thought you were Robaire.” She says, her voice seeming disappointed with a hint of frustration. 

I don’t see it when people say me and Robaire look alike, we only have similar eye color, but thats about it. I have two beauty marks, he has one, I have thinner eyebrows, and he has thicker.

“Where is he, anyways? He's here somewhere, don’t lie. We want to see Robaire, not you.” The other girl says, her voice coming off as stuck up and rude. The other girl jabs her arm into the mean girls shoulder, causing her to wince.

“Sasha, don't be rude!” She says as her face contorts into an angry one. “Oh, hush, Rebecca. You know we only like 4*TOWN for the guys, not her! Theyre called boy bands for a reason!” Sasha says, as if I'm not even here.

Just when I thought my night couldnt get any worse. I don't understand why they don’t like me, I didn’t even do anything to them…

I begin to zone out as the two argue. But then something snaps me out of my thoughts, just to put me down in another set of thoights.

“Aaron T should've broken up with you on your birthday!” Sasha yells out as the store owner shoos them out, quickly coming up to me to apologize, telling me that everything is on the house as he scans my items and bags them.

I start thinking about that day, how my anxiety got worse by just a little bit. Everything between me and Aaron started this year, August 4th, my 22nd birthday. It was a surprise party at our clubhouse, I got sent to pick up pizza, I though they had forgotten my birthday.

When I came back, I saw the Happy Birthday banner that made me momentarily happy, before I saw Aaron and our now former manager, Hailey, kissing.

Though now I should've known it wasn't consensual, seeing that Aaron had his eyes wide open in shock before gently but forcefully pushing her away, but in the moment, I couldn't tell if it was real or a nightmare.

I quickly dropped the pizza box on the coffee table before storming out, my shoes clacking, which alerted the guys, and also Aaron, who ran after me before being stopped by Robaire, asking what happened.

I felt a hand grabbing mine, it was Z. At ifrst, I couldn't talk at all, feeling too overwhelmed to do so, but as he engulfed me in his warm embrace, I began to calm down and explain what I saw. As I talked, he looked at me with an expression that made me feel something weird inside.

He was shocked and a little hurt to say the least, and was about to go get Aaron so he could get his side of the story, when i caught a glimpse of Aaron, watching me and Z hug with an unreadable expression. 

Aaron ran over and began to explain himself, although I can usually keep up with his sometimes fast talking, I couldnt this time and Z had to tell him to breath and slow down. They locked eyes for a second, and that weird feeling came back, though it felt a little different. I don't know why.

Why did I feel like that?

As Aaron explained and Hailey rudely told the truth, that she came on to him and not vice versa as he would never do such a thing in the first place, I still felt a pang in my chest. I felt hurt, even though Aaron would never hurt me, and it was just a misunderstanding.

Now it's December 1st, and me and Aaron are going great again, we got a new manager named Paul, he's radical. Although we should have fired Hailey right after that concert in Toronto with the crazy giant talking red panda women and the other talking red panda ladies, plus the smaller yet taller than me talking one, Meilin Lee was her name.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts by the cashier, and I feel embarrassed. I pay and quickly walk out. Why did she have to bring that up, why would she say that? My day is terrible and I just want to get to the cabin so I can cry in peace.

I go back to the van and hop in the backseat, before being instantly bombarded with questions like “What took you so long?’’ and “What's wrong?”

I quietly hand everyone their correct snacks, giving out a weak “I’m fine, I'm just tired.” and hoping they will get that I don't want to talk right now. I then notice that Aaron is awake, looking at me with a slightly concerned expression, and he holds my face and wipes away my tears.

Tears?

I didn't realize that I was crying.

“What happened?” he asks me, his voice soft as he looks at me with wide eyes and furrowed brows. I just lean into him, handing him the bag with his snacks. “I dont want to talk about it right now.’’ i say, hoping I'm not coming off as rude.

I seemingly don't, as he pecks my forehead and holds me close. I decide to spend the rest of this drive sleeping, not feeling hungry for my snacks now after everything that has happened.

I can hear the faint Michael Buble playing on the radio as I rest my head on Aaron’s chest and drift away to the world of wondrous sleep.

[the-ultimate-pie-family]

Bloods past part 3

"Ever since blood got a second chance at life, he tried to kill himself, and every time god and Pinkie stopped him, blood knew if he killed himself he be at rest but his mom and god didn't want him to die but blood didn't know he was the key to life as he knew it"

Pinkie: *pours some coffee* ........son......why do u wanna die?

Blood: Because i don't deserve this second life, mom im killer........I've done so much horrifying things to mother father even kids.......all for their blood.......

Pinkie: But son, u told me they bullied u and other things u just had a little hiccup son we all get it

Blood: But mom, i killed the kids' kids' mom. i have kids wat if i kill my kids.....

Pinkie: u haven't yet, son

Midnight: *yawns walking in the kitchen* morning dad morning gammy

Day: *crawling to blood babbling*

Blood: *lifts up day with his magic* Hi sweet, how'd u sleep mid?

Midnight: i woke up with a sore neck, but other than that i guess good

Day: uppies uppies

Blood: *throws day in the air, catching her* has red seen ur neck yet?

Midnight: ......no dad do i have to tho?

Blood: Yes, red is good at wat she does we owe her and she owes us

"Day started crying because she was hungry"

Pinkie: *takes day from blood walking to get some stored breast milk she got from butchershy before blood killed her* mmm milky milky day sweetie *giggles*

Day: *drinks the milk slowly falling asleep in pinkies arms*

Pinkie: ur gonna be so powerful day and do great thing when u get older. *walks day to her portable crib, placing her in covering her up* sweet dream day

[daddycest-hub]

What Wicked and Wonderful Delights did that make U Daydream of? ;) Also U Sexy Sicko: What Erotic Explorations would U like to PerVorm when it comes to killing Cordell so Y/N can Claim his Wife Emily? ;) Would Cordell's Father, Y/N, have no problem knocking off his Eldest Son so he can Knock Emily up? Would Cordell's own Brother, Y/N, fill him full of Lead so he can take his place in Emily's bed? Would his Son, Y/N, shoot him between the eyes so he can shoot his Seed between Emily's Thighs??? ;)

No wicked daydreams for the IRL Y/N thing rn (my brain isn't feeling overly smutty atm)

Now for the Sexy Sicko part......

Father Y/N:

Ever since Cordell first brought Emily home, Y/N had taken a shine to her. Well, more than a shine. Ever since he first laid eyes on those plush lips, those perky breasts, those smooth thighs, and that juicy ass, Y/N hasn't been able to stop thinking about her. Y/N loved his wife, as any good man should, but he couldn't help it if his thoughts wandered from time to time.

When Cordell and Emily got married, the jealousy started to creep in. He was happy for his son, of course, but after seeing the radiant Emily in her wedding dress, he couldn't help but wish it was him she was smiling at and dancing the night away with.

It only got worse when Emily got pregnant. Watching her bump grow and her breasts swell only made her more beautiful. She glowed brighter than his wife ever did and Y/N's dreams were soon filled with fantasies of filling Emily with his own seed.

Realistically, there was only so long he could keep it bottled up before he snapped. Cordell never deserved her anyway.

It had been easy enough to explain Cordell's head injury away with a riding accident. No one needed to know they'd gotten in a fight and Y/N had bashed his son's head against a rock. Especially not Emily, sweet, sweet Emily who turned to her father-in-law for comfort during this trying time, snuggling her luscious curves and still-perky breasts against his strong frame while she grieved.

Brother Y/N:

Y/N had always been jealous of Cordell. he was the oldest son, the best at sports, the best in school, the most popular kid in his class, always a cut above his little brother. No matter how hard Y/N tried, he could never do well enough to best or even match up with Cordell.

Emily was just the final straw.

She was perfect. She was gorgeous from head to toe. She had a kind soul with enough feisty in her to keep it interesting. She always treated Y/N like he wasn't just the leftover Walker DNA, like he was capable of being more than just Cordell's little brother. It didn't take him long to fall for her, but she only had eyes for Cordell.

Watching them date was hard. Seeing them get married was torture. Watching them build a family was worse than Hell.

It should've been Y/N. Cordell didn't deserve someone as special as her.

Y/N called Cordell out for a "talk" on the ranch and shot him point blank between the eyes. It's not like Cordell didn't have plenty of enemies as a Texas Ranger; no one would suspect Y/N. Certainly not Emily. Not his sweet, darling Emily....

Son Y/N:

Y/N was a Mama's boy through and through. Everywhere she went, he followed like a shadow. He loved spending time with his mom more than anything else in the world. He was her special boy and nothing would ever change that.

But as he got older, he realized he just wasn't special enough. because Mommy had another special boy, someone who meant more to her and always would- his Dad.

Dad got to sleep in the same bed as Mommy, even when he didn't have nightmares. Dad got to kiss Mommy everywhere, not just her cheek. Dad got to know all of Mommy's secrets, without even asking for them.

But it wasn't fair. Dad always went to work instead of spending time with Mommy. He always hung out with other friends instead of Mommy. Didn't he know how special Mommy was? How she deserved to be loved and cherished and not have a second of her time wasted?

It wasn't fair.

Dad took him on a camping trip. It had been easy to talk him into a rock climbing contest- even easier to step on his fingers and make him fall to his death.

Mommy was so sad to have Dad gone, but she had even more time to dote on her Specialest Boy. And that was really all that mattered.

Also-

Childhood Friend Y/N:

Not fully thought out yet but consider the concept of Emily having an old friend who got friendzoned by her and him getting super jealous of Cordell and having fantasies about beating him to death while Emily cheered him on and convincing himself that Cordell was a terrible husband and Y/N needed to save Emily from him.

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

Chris evans masterlist # 3

Main masterlist

Here's more of my fics for Chris. I don't write smuts so here there's only fluff, angst, or implied smuts. go to request guidelines to see who request are open for!

Out on the couch

Just like dad

Filipino Christmas, house tour

It's the little things

My little sunflower, forever and always

Bubba

To my future son

A different kind of Valentine

Intense things happen after bedtime

Not daddy's valentine

Love isn't jealousy

Winter wonderland

Break up

Grocery shopping with the little one

Adore you

Sunday morning

A little bit of tears

The show must go on

Couldn't wait till after the wedding

Breakfast with your lover

Before you go

Will you marry me again

The brightest star in the world: you

Traveling with Chris

A new beginning

The hottest dork

Candle lit date

Just like we dreamed of

Sweet like you

Not yours anymore

Not yours anymore part 2

Photo album

Time stands still but not your fluttering heart

Too long without dad

Boys day

I'm sorry

The sniffles

Spending the night for the first time

Jelly bean

Missing just Mama

Italiano

Ice cream bottomless

Unspoken words

Pearls and a black dress

I hate all men but when he loves me

You win a seal

Father figure

The things we regret

Part one || part two

A queen deserves her crown

Part one || part two || part three

Kiss me more

Chris losing Dodger at the dog park to you

My little baby

Away for too long

A little bump

Civil war

Fake dating

Under the willow tree

Instagram live

Daisies for u

You got your space and dust, but don't you still need love

Can I have my virginity back

Black sun dress

A nice surprise

A little too late

The last straw

Walking out

Pre-baby nerves

A little angry

40th birthday (goldfish)

Welcome to the world

I've always loved you

To many beers

One step ahead

Shy little Evans

Chicken nugget

Things I'm convinced Chris does or has

Things Chris loves about you

I hope your happy

Age gap problem

Caught in the rain

Take my hand everything is going to be ok

Deep in the heart of Boston

Fireworks

A month apart

Sibling fight

Birthday boy

A clingy dad's girl

Dancing in the rain

Disneyland magic

Hometown

The way Chris touches you

Welcome to the neighborhood*

A great thing at the end of the day

Paint war

A jealous someone

[softyoongiionly]

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

There are opposing rumors as to what resides in the tower.

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

And now, faced with the imminent demise of your family- you have no choice but to seek answers in the darkness. 

What, in god’s name, will you find?

Pairing: Jimin x Reader

Genre: demi-god! au, demi-god! Jimin, mythology, slight angst, smut, fantasy

Word count: 8k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PWP)

Warnings: likely inaccurate representations of greek mythology lmao, unprotected sex (wrap it up plz), mentions of violence/death, slightly spooky??? allusions to corruption and murder (non-explicit), JIMIN (cause he’s always a warning), probably a messy plot cause I went feral with this one. parts are unedited oops. 

A/N: i have nothing to say. this was supposed to be demon porn and now we have a completely new au. SOMEONE PLEASE STOP ME. okay anyways,,,, i love u. 

Corruption.  

It ran rampant through your town like the plague, devouring everything in its path. One right after another, you have seen it swallow those who you had come to respect; good town folk, who at one time, moved through the world with a moral compass stronger than the one you felt you possessed, had now fallen ill to the disease.  

And you understood...to an extent. The universe was not a benevolent dealer. It randomly assigns cards to its patrons and cares not about the outcome- or the losses. You understood that sometimes people were simply without a winning hand.  

But the need to win was still present.  

However, your town was spoiled with a type of greed that wafted through the streets and turned everything to mold. Neighbor betraying neighbor, partner betraying partner- even mother’s betraying their children...

All to please one man...

Lord Instinctus was the ruler of your province. Born into nobility, he took over the position after his father passed away and began turning the tides in his favor. Taxes were raised, work hours following suit and, harsh punishments were administered to anyone who dared questioned the new system. He forced your town to pledge their loyalty to him on the day he took over and sent ‘enforcers’ to hide out in the town in search of any signs of rebellion.  

However, his cruelty was not unique. Too many men have followed the path paved before them and suckled at the teet of avarice, until they were compelled to out do one another.

To outkill one another...

What made Lord Instinctus unique was the fact that he had never shown his face before. During his initiation into the noble court, the townspeople were given blindfolds and told to face away from their Lord and simply listen. Few people broke the rules but, the ones who did were immediately executed.  

You still remember the shudder that ran through your body as you heard the sound of your townspeople hitting the pavement. From that point on, the tone was set. Insubordination means death; the terms were simple.  

The lack of knowledge and the possibility of death didn’t stop speculation from blooming. In fact, the appearance of the Lord was essentially the usual topic of conversation at every pub on the main street. After the freeing of spirits, both liquid or otherwise, the rumors begin pouring into the atmosphere.

“He’s probably horribly deformed...”

“Inbreeding is common amongst the nobility; it would make sense...”

“My cousin walked by the villa the other day, he said Lord Invictus had a tail!”

“A tail you say?! So is he some sort of hybrid?!”

“Oh please, that’s preposterous- he's probably just hideous...”

You bite your bottom lip, as you wipe the whiskey from the chestnut countertop, resisting the urge to smirk. Bartending was certainly not a glamorous job but, it paid your taxes and helped put food on the table for you and your family.  

Glamorous it was not but, amusing it definitely was.  

“I bet you he still beds a new woman every night though...”

“A pretty face ain’t worth more than all that gold he has aye?”

“Maybe he’s cursed...”

“That wouldn’t surprise me either- I hear noble families make deals with the magic folk all the time.”

“If you all want to know so bad, why don’t you just pay the tower a visit?”

With that meager suggestion, the bustle of the pub comes to halt- all eyes now on the man who mentioned a topic that is normally banned from public spaces.

“What? You can’t tell me you haven’t wondered what was up there...”

“We know what’s up there-”

“Or rather- who's up there.”

Just outside the boundaries of your town, deep within the trenches of the forest sits a massive tower made from smoke-stained ivory. Decrepit and ominous, it looms over your town like a warning- like a shadow...

It’s said to be the home a monster.  

The tower was used as a prison for the most dastardly of criminals. For years, just before the establishment of your town, it served as a last resort for the rotten underbelly of society. Countless lives were taken, madness ensued- until the revolution came. The tower was set aflame by revolutionaries but for whatever reason, it did not crumble.  

The ivory merely sizzled and turned gray and then over time, it turned black. For years it was abandoned until one day, just after sunset, light emanated from the tower once more. Onlookers who were near the building went inside to see if some vagrant had moved in.  

And they never returned...

Several spiritual advisors have visited the town, including religious figures from various faiths, and they have all arrived at the same conclusion: a demon has taken residence in the tower. Despite the efforts to bless the building, the light comes on every evening.  

Thus, it is assumed that the demon remains unharmed.  

“What about Mrs. Jeon? She left offerings for the beast and her son was cured of the plague the next morning.”

“Or Mr. Kim- he left one as well and found gold in his backyard that very night...”

“You aren’t suggesting there is a benevolent being in that tower, are you? Should I remind you of how many disappearances have occurred?”

There are opposing rumors you suppose.  

One of them, the one that just so happens to appeal to you the most, is that there is a deity living in that tower.  

The one who knows.  

The one who blesses and curses the deserving and offers wisdom that no mortal can.  

“Hey here’s a thought- how about Jacob tests his theory eh? Why don’t you go down and find out yourself? Report back to us with your findings...”

The pub erupts with laughter now, the uneasiness slowly melting away from the room.  

You elect to keep your thoughts to yourself, as you finish up counting the money you had made from that evening- making sure to leave a portion for the incoming team.  

The bite of the winter wind is harsh and untamed as it scraps across your skin, causing you to hurriedly put your coat on. It feels like winter never ends in your town and if it weren’t for the fact that your family stocks up throughout the year, you would be worried where your next meal is coming from.  

Walking down the street towards your home, you catch sight of the tower in the distance. The way the windows begin to glow, almost makes you feel like it’s somehow staring back at you- taunting you.  

You would be lying if you said it didn’t tempt you.  

It always has.  

Even as a young girl, you remember being drawn to the infamy, to the danger...

Your mother always told you that being curious was a good thing, that it led the greatest minds of humankind. You kept that with you as you moved through life, trying your best to understand what your purpose was.  

But times were hard...

With a malevolent lord hanging over the morale of your town, digging his fingers into the heart and soul of your people and crippling them with eternal debt, it was causing you to look for answers.  

And you were beginning to look in some unorthodox places.

Dinner with your family soothes the aching curiosity in your chest as you try and remind yourself of all the things you have to be grateful for. After your meal, you wrestle your little brother into his bed before telling him his favorite bedtime story. Once his eyelids have kissed, you turn out his light and move into the main room to wish sweet dreams upon your parents.  

And although the pleasantries are nice, there are a few things throughout the evening that disturbed you.  

The limp in your father’s movement.

The blisters on your mother’s hands.

The bags beneath the otherwise unburden gaze of your little brother.  

Exhaustion was palpable.  

Living beneath the weight of a corrupt leadership will do that to you.

As your head hits the pillow, you can hear your mother murmur in desperation.

“I won’t have enough to pay him this week...what are we going to do?”

“I can work extra hours at the mill- we will figure it out.”

“How could you possibly work any longer-”

You feel your chest twist with guilt as you hear the crack in your mother's voice.

“You’re falling apart my love...if you continue pushing yourself this way, I’m afraid I will lose you and I can’t- I can’t-”

The muffled nature of her cries suggests that your father has pulled her in for a hug, trying to erase the inevitable with his affection.  

“We will endure, I promise. Just hang on a little longer.”

With your father’s final words, their conversation begins to die down.  

This can’t possibly go on much longer. You might be able to pick up more hours at the pub and, perhaps procure a second job but, the dues will never end.  

Your family will never exist for any other reason aside from paying to the noble family.  

So you make a decision. Hard work clearly isn’t the answer and revolution would only shed innocent blood. If the practical world had nothing else to offer then, you would seek answers from beyond.  

Your parents retired to their rooms shortly after their conversation but, you wait until you’re sure the house has fallen silent before you make your next move. Embarking on this mission would be simple but what lies at your destination is anything but; so, you try to be prepared for the possible outcomes.

Wrapping yourself in the thickest coat you can find, you slip your dagger beneath the onyx material and slowly creep out of your bedroom.  

The streets were still bustling with life; your town rarely ever rests and the pubs and shops are open well past midnight.  

It might sound like the product of a vibrant town but, it’s mainly due to the ever-present demand for profit.  

Limited hours mean limited sales.

Thankfully, no one really notices your presence as you traverse your way down the streets and through the alleyway. The noise echoing from the main street slowly diminishes and makes way for the sound of the wind dancing through the trees. The forest itself does not frighten you. You grew up memorizing it with your father as he taught you the fundamentals or foraging and gardening. The sound of the owls is expected as is the chill that runs up your spine with the increase of the breeze.  

However, as you near the tower- fear begins to slither its way into your veins. It’s quite a sickening feeling as it seems to stop you in your tracks but, you push on anyway- determined to finish what you have started.

The wrought iron surrounding the tower is stained with rust, corroded and crackling with age, the creaking of its bars alarms you, stopping you in your tracks and forcing you to look up.  

And there it is: the tower.  

It stands above you like a menacing giant and although it’s presence should deter you, it doesn’t. Making an effort to be as silent as you can, you slip past the opening in the gate and begin walking up the broken cobblestone pathway.  

There is nothing but dirt surrounding the perimeter of the tower and other than the moon, the only light before you is coming from the very top window. It’s glowing but the color isn’t stable- it's as if it were shifting slowly from red to green to blue and then back again. Faced with the wooden French doors, you question the idea of knocking.  

If someone truly did live here, it would only be polite...right?

With a shaky hand, you knock three times as loudly as you can. For a moment there is nothing, but just as you ready your hand to knock again, the door groans and begins to slowly creak open.  

The already unstable heartbeat in your chest begins to rattle without mercy as you brace yourself for whatever horrible creature might lay on the other side. Instead, however, there is no one.  

The door opens entirely to reveal that instead of the simple but filthy interior you expect from an abandoned tower such as this one, there is a rather decadent home. Large marble pillars extend upwards seemingly holding nothing in place while glamorous furniture positions itself through the foray. Everything is cooled tone with greys and shades of blue, black often lining the borders of the funiture. There is no lantern, the moon lighting up the interior of the room just as it led your path up to the door.  

The layout doesn’t make sense.  

The tower is cylindrical and doesn’t offer enough space for such an open floor plan so, how is it that the inside looks like lavish mansion?

You swallow your fear and newfound confusion as you tentatively look around the expanse of the room.

“Hello?”

Nothing.  

You take a deep breath and decide that the likelihood of someone (or something) answering that call is slim, especially given the way you were welcomed into the tower in the first place.  

You place your hand inside your pocket, gripping the dagger for good measure before beginning to make your way towards the staircase. The moonlight is sufficient enough at first but for whatever reason, as you begin making your way up the stone staircase, the interior of the tower seems to slowly darken. Your grip on the dagger tightens as you stop walking, frozen in your steps, cursing yourself for embarking on a journey so reckless.  

Suddenly, all of the light from the room vanishes, forcing a gasp from your throat. You manage to grip the railing to steady yourself but you have no idea what you are to do next.  

And then, someone speaks.

“Well- you’re awfully far from home...aren’t you?”

The sound of the voice rushes through your senses much like the wind did. It’s too sweet for your liking but, it entrances you none the less.

“Who are you?”  

As much as you try to steady your breathing, the way your voice cracks, gives you away instantly.

Laughter bounces off the stone walls, sinister and playful all at once before the voice speaks again,

“Don’t you think that’s a question I should be asking you? You are the intruder after all...”

Disembodied or not, the voice makes a valid point. You did walk in unannounced and you most certainly weren’t invited.  

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” The strength in your voice comes back slightly as you grip the railing a bit tighter, “I came here because- “

“I know why you’re here...” The voice is much closer now, likely positioned at the top of the stairs, “Humans are so predictable; always looking for a handout.”

This offends you greatly and regardless of the amount of danger you might be in, you let the voice know anyway.

“I am not looking for a hand out. My family and I work from sunrise until sunset to make ends meet. I’m here to make an offering- not merely to take whatever miracles that you make.” Stronger and stronger, your voice rises to the occasion, preparing itself to either spar with the beast or scream for help.

“Miracles hm?” Sinister laughter slinks down the staircase, practically teasing the exposed skin of your neck, “Is that what you think I do?”  

You swallow the bile that creeps up your throat, “I’ve heard many stories- but I wanted to see for myself. Some of my people claim you’ve blessed them but, the clergy said a demon lived here...”

“Oh?” It rises with inquisition, “And you came anyway? Do I have a heretic in my presence?”  

Shaking your head does nothing in the darkness but it’s instinctual, “I don’t believe in demons- at least, not the kind who dwell in abandoned towers.”

“Is there a kind you do believe in then?”  

There is something in you that urges you forward, captivated by the sweet sound of the voice above you, desperate to view the owner and desperate to see the moonlight again.

“Hell is nothing but a metaphor and it’s demons all the same. There is plenty of evil here, plenty of suffering- by definition, there is a demon ruling over my town- he is draining us of our resources for his own gain. I couldn’t imagine a more accurate representation.”

Suddenly, you hear the sound of boots clicking slowly and steadily down the stone stairs. You brace yourself, still feeling frozen in your place- wishing to see whoever or whatever is front of you.

“If I did make miracles,” It muses and, now you’re able to discern that it’s only a few steps in front of you, “What exactly would you be offering me in return?”

Taking a deep breath through your nose, you place all your effort into trying to make out whether or not there was an actual owner to this voice. Finally, your eyes adjust enough to see the faint shadow of a figure which appears to be sitting on the second set of stairs.  

“Name your terms, I will do my best.”  

“Ah ah-” The voice corrects along with a side of twinkling laughter, “That isn’t how this works...”

You’re growing frustrated with the apparent mind games but, you know it’s in your best interest to be patient; you still don’t know what you’re dealing with.

“How does it work then?”

Silence passes through the air for a moment before the voice speaks again, “You must bring me the thing you treasure the most so, that I may know your true intentions- I cannot help you until I can see you properly.”

You snort, “You’d be able to see me if you hadn’t wiped the light from this room...”

Laughter comes again but this time, it’s lower and deepened with suggestion, “I’m not referring to physical sight, human. You might not be able to see in the dark but, I can.”

For whatever reason, its response sounds salacious and riddled with an innuendo that you’re slightly afraid to comment on.  

And the reaction it creates within you, only frightens you further.  

“I’ve just told you that I barely have enough money to scrape by- I don’t have anything of value to give you.”  

“I never asked you to bring me anything of value nor did I ask you to give it away- you’re not listening very well...I don’t know how I’m supposed to help you if you can’t follow instructions.”

It sounds irritated and fond all at once, prompting you to nod immediately, not wanting to upset your only shot at freedom.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe, “I’m just-”

“Don’t lie to me...”

Your gaze strains to try and make out the expression of the figure in front of you but, its futile- the darkness impeding your effort.

“What do you mean?”

“You were going to tell me that you’re scared.” The voice accuses, “But you’re not- even though, you most certainly should be.”  

It wasn’t wrong. You should have ran when the door opened on its own, when the lights began to dim, when a voice began speaking to you...

But you didn’t.

You were undeniably intrigued.  

“Are you going to hurt me?”

An insidious bought of laughter comes from the figure before it sighs, “Hmmm, maybe a little bit.”

When your lips part with something that resembles shock, the laughter comes again only slowing to a halt for the sound of the figure’s tongue tutting against its teeth.

“You are a curious girl...” It observes, “...promises of harm should not excite you and yet- excitement flows from you anyway. Why?”

It kills you to refrain from denying it but, you have no choice.

“Your voice-” A sigh leaves your lips, “it’s very intriguing.”

Maybe it’s part of the creature's abilities, you think, its voice is the main weapon to lure unsuspecting and vulnerable humans into its clutches. The only question is-  what happens once it has you.

“Is it now?” The voice sounds intrigued, “Most humans don’t seem to think so. Are you sure you’re hearing me right, girl? I’ve been told my voice is the thing of nightmares.”

This perplexes you; how could anyone possibly think such a voice was frightening? Despite this creature being anything but human, it sounds very much like a man- a warm and mischievous man who seems hellbent on getting you into bed.  

“What does my voice sound like to you?” It asks, a smile in its tone.

You ponder this question for a second, realizing very quickly that you can’t exactly tell this creature that it sounds like it’s trying to seduce you. But still, that does seem to be the only appropriate description.

“Sort of...like a melody.”

Laughter comes again but, this time it’s paired with the moonlight slowly fading back into the tower, covering every surface until it finally reveals the appearance of the figure.  

Beautiful.  

Not an it but a he...

A man with wings.  

On the steps before you, he stands, leaning casually against the railing now. Atop his head is a tousled mop of sapphire hair, just below are his eyes- nearly black and hooded with the same seduction as his voice and cloaking his figure is a black linen ensemble fitted only by the same color corset. His pillowy lips and soft skin would be a masterpiece on their own but coupled with the giant pair of onyx wings protruding proudly from his back- his visuals become simply devastating.  

“What do you see?” He smirks, licking over his lips.

Unable to resist, you shake your head in complete awe, all of the sensible words dying before they leave your throat, “You- are you an angel?”

The light allows you to see him now as his head tilts another round of laughter, “Try again...you’re very close.”

Perhaps the clergy was right...

“A demon then...” You resign because despite your previously-held beliefs, if this really was a demon, then you know very well you shouldn’t be dealing with him. “I should go.”

His smirk broadens, “But I thought you didn’t believe in demons?”

“I didn’t but, that’s clearly what you’re alluding to. If a winged man tells me he’s a demon, I think it’s wise that I return home.”  

Through your moment of clarity, your desire for him persists- especially now that you see what he looks like. But you know better than to make a deal with a demon, even if you are desperate.

“Do you think the universe is that simple? Angels and demons? Good and evil? You don’t think that maybe- in all of his vastness, there is a chance for the inbetweeners?” He presses and now his black eyes seem to glow, his gaze slightly hypnotic.  

Tightening your coat around your body, you stay staring at him for a moment before you respond, “Is that what you are? Something in between?”

He licks his lips, his eyes finally allowing themselves to wander over your figure. There isn’t much of you showing but, he still drinks you up regardless, exposing and exciting you all at once.  

“I was sent by the underworld to do business for the gods...” He drops his voice to a near whisper, his gaze burning a hole in you, which now aches to be filled.  

You take in a shaky breath through your nose, nodding in understanding, “Did you kill the people who disappeared here? Is that what happens when their judgment goes south?”  

He arches his brow, tilting his head with his inquiry- his voice dripping with darkness, “Maybe I did...maybe I didn’t. I don’t see how that’s relevant- especially since you’ve already decided you were leaving. Which of course-” He waves his hand then, the wooden door behind you creaking open, “-you are free to do.”

There is something about him you haven’t touched on but, it’s beginning to eat you up inside. He may be an otherworldly being, possessing the tower like a beautiful virus but, he is starting to look familiar. This of course, is hard to imagine because his beauty is so striking that you don’t see how you could ever forget it. But nonetheless, you feel like you’ve seen him before.  

And this is what has kept you frozen.  

“Will you not give me any answers?” You border on pleading but, attempt to keep your tone firm.

He chuckles, “You didn’t come to me for answers. You came for help- which I’ve already agreed to give you.”

The supernatural discourse that has transpired, thoroughly distracted you from the reasons for seeking him out in the first place. Your situation had not changed; you were still desperate for money, desperate for justice and desperate for peace.  

“You won’t hurt my family...” It’s not a question, and it leaves no room for any other response aside from the one he gives you.

“I won’t.”  

Nodding, you glance behind your shoulder towards the door, “I have to go home. I don’t have the item you asked for. I can be back within the hour...”

For the first time, he looks slightly disappointed but as you complete your sentence, he shakes his head, “No. Don't come back tonight.” He insists, “If you wish to do business with me- you must return tomorrow after midnight. I will wait for you at the shoreline.”

This confuses you, “The shoreline? Why can’t we meet here? The water is dangerous after dark.”

The smirk returns to his tender lips, “I know.”  

With that, he waves his hand again- causing the door to swing open and slam against the tower walls.

Jumping at the sound, your gaze shoots back behind you before returning to where the creature stood.  

But he had vanished.  

You have no choice but to heed his requests and rush away from the tower, the curiosity inside you almost too much to bear.  

Nothing is out of the ordinary as you walk back home, at least not at first. But when you pass the massive clock tower in the center of town, you realize something strange...

The clock hadn’t moved, not even a second.  

You remember very clearly reading the time as you hurried past it on your way to the tower and now, even as you’re staring at it, it stands perfectly still. Until suddenly, without warning, the hands of time begin to move again. The clicking almost startles you, your brain filling with a million questions despite your decision to turn away and return home.  

Time had seemingly stood still whilst you were in the tower.  

Slipping beneath the covers, you try your hardest to get to sleep despite being bombarded with images of the haunting man you had just encountered.  

You know you should be terrified.  

You know you should be wary.

But the familiarity of him has possessed you and, you’re determined to understand why.  

The next night, with your treasured object tucked securely in your coat, you make your way back to him.  

You make sure to check the clock tower before you do, logging the time away for later to see if last night had been more than just a fluke.  

12:32am.

The clock tower has never lied but, you’re starting to think it might be influenced by whatever resided in the tower- magic, beast, or otherwise.  

As you pass through the many trees, you begin to hear the chaotic crashing of the waves in the distance. The tower may be frightening but, few things could match the malevolent temper of the sea. In fact, you’ve always believed that nothing could. The sea was unrivaled in her cruelty, consuming the world at will, just for the fun of it- you've theorized that she likes the screams. During the day, she simmered- blue and serene, allowing boats to decorate her surface like candles on a birthday cake. At night though, her temper worsens and it’s as if she suddenly remembers all the injustice she has faced. Her waves swell to horrific heights, smashing into the seawalls built around your town, creeping over like a titan looking for vengeance.  

You’ve always felt pity for her. It must be hard: being the heart and soul of humanity, being responsible for the very nature of things- only to be forgotten. Only to be mistreated...

Your boots are discarded near the last patch of grass before the sand and, your toes brace themselves icy chill of the sea breeze. You’re especially thankful for the coat now as you suspect that your teeth would have already begun chattering had it not been for the thick fabric protecting you.  

The waves haven’t begun their violent dance just yet but, you can sense their temper beneath your feet. They will begin soon.  

“The sea-” The voice from the tower is behind you, “it suits you.”

Breathless, you turn to face him and even though you’re more prepared for his beauty than you were last night, it still shocks you.

He’s wearing a black silk gown, that drapes effortlessly off his body, the sleeves made out of French lace and extending well past his fingertips. His wings are shuttered behind him, folded almost modestly against his back.

“Thank you.” It’s the only response you have before you reach into the fold of your coat, “I have the-”

He holds up his hand, his voice commanding but gentle, “Wait. I want you to walk with me first. I don’t like rushing through my business deals.”

Your hand slowly retreats from your coat as you warily look behind you, “You want to walk along the shoreline? I told you, it’s too dangerous- at least for me it is, I don’t exactly have an escape mechanism attached to my back.”

He smirks, his tempting gaze flourishing with fondness you cannot place, “What causes you to mistrust the sea so much? Surely she wouldn’t hurt one of her own...”

Your brow furrows, “What do you mean?”

Extending from the confines of silk, his fingers reach out to you, fluttering with invitation, “I will show you.”

And really, you’d be a fool not to accept.  

Interlacing your fingers with his, you feel electricity simmer ever so slightly beneath your skin. You’re assuming it’s from the power that likely resides within him but, you don’t expect it to affect you so much.

The sound of the waves begins to softly roar in the distance but the water isn’t close enough to the shoreline to pose any immediate threat.

Not yet at least...

You begin walking alongside him as he leads you both in the opposite direction of your town border. For quite a few moments, he just gazes at the eternal stretch of sand before you, his soft mouth curved up ever so slightly. He looks pensive and serene all at once and, it confuses you.

“May I tell you a story?”

His request surprises you but, you aren’t really in a position to say no. And if you’re being honest, you really didn’t want to.  

“Yes.” You murmur, feeling compelled to keep your volume at a minimum.

He smiles softly to himself, glancing towards the water briefly before beginning.  

“The water has many gods...” He speaks softly, letting out a sigh, “Lir, Irish god of the sea, Tefnut, Egyptian goddess of the rain, Amimitl, Aztec god of lakes and fisherman...” His explanation already has you interested. You were taught much of the stories beyond your land but, it had always fascinated you, “The gods of the sea are known for the temperate nature, they often stay away from humans and avoid interfering with the mortal coil. Death by water is merely a request they carry out for the gods of death and destruction and thus, there is goddess who rules over the violence of the sea itself.”

Just as he finishes his sentence, the temper of the sea seems to roar to life, the swollen waves crashing aggressively, still not close enough to reach you.

Not yet at least...

“Cymopoleia, is the goddess of violent sea storms. Poseidon, her father, tasked her with overseeing the malignant waters and tending to the causalities. She was not the creator of the storms but she carried the ability.” He moves through the story as if he has told it a 100 times but he seems captivated by it nonetheless, “When it came time for her to bear a child. She conjured up a spirit from within her very core. She crafted them out of the essence of the sea and placed them inside of clamshell in her palace. She was awaiting the full moon when someone snuck into the depths of the ocean and stole them from her.”

The gasp that leaves your lips cannot be helped, you didn’t realize how engrossed you were until suddenly you recognize the port from another town nearby.

You had been walking awhile.

“Why would someone do that?” You press, shaking your head.

He sends a solemn look your way, “Many thoughtless humans believe that if they capture the essence of a god, they will become one themselves. Foolishly, he opened the clam shell and released the spirit into the world. By the time the goddess found him, it was too late- but she delegated his fate anyway. She took his life beneath the depths of a violent storm and placed a curse upon anyone who shared his bloodline. She made it so that any one of his descendants would bear the physical embodiment of his fate.”

“So, they look like they’ve died at sea?”

He can’t help but smirk, a bit of the darkness you saw at the tower, beginning to creep back. “Indeed. They are horribly disfigured and regardless of their efforts, they all meet the same fate. His lineage believes that if they send enough offerings out to sea or if they build high enough walls, that they will somehow escape their deaths. But of course, this if futile- the goddess vowed that she would continue to collect them until her spirit was returned.”  

His story ends and it’s like something clicks within you. Without warning, you squeeze his hand, slowing both of you to a stop, just before the light of the upcoming pier hits you.  

“Does this have something to do with my town? Is that why you’re telling me this?”  

Lord Invictus certainly fit the description for a descendent of this thief and, although it bores no sense of logic- you have no choice but to believe it anyway.  

It all fits together too well...

He turns towards you now, his smirk now a small smile, “It has to do with you Y/N.”

Your brow furrows, “Me? What do you mean?”

He nods to your coat, something otherworldly lingering in his eyes, “I’d like to see what you’ve brought with you now.”

Still riddled with confusion, you reach inside your coat and find that the item you had brought with you (a beaded necklace gifted to you at birth by your parents) had turned into something else.  

And now, sitting in the palm of your hand- was a clamshell.  

“What is this? This isn’t what I brought to you- I-” You begin to panic, confusion and fear starting to take over, “Did you do this? Did you take my necklace?”

Finally, the sinister smirk returns as his wings begin to unfurl from behind his back. Along with his shift in expression, another danger is brewing very close to you- you can feel it.  

The sea is growing irritated and whipping the wind and the water up into a frenzy. As you look toward the water, you have no choice but to look on in horror as you see the beginning of something deadly.  

A rogue wave.

The grip on your hand tightens as his extraordinary strength keeps you in place.  

“I think it’s time I formally introduce myself-” His voice is loaded with bad intentions but it sounds sweet anyway as he burns his gaze into yours, “My name is Jimin. Son of Tartarus, the god of punishment and Nyx, the goddess of the night.”

Your eyes are wide with desperation, not fully registering what he said before he’s yanking you against his chest and turning you to face the sea. Standing behind you, he unleashes a spell of wicked laughter as his wings unfurl from behind is back to wrap around the both of you, so that the only thing you’re able to see is the wall of water coming for you.  

“I have to come to send you home Y/N...your mother has been waiting for you a very long time.”

His arms are wrapped around you now, crushing you against his chest as his wings begin flapping- the wind picking up furiously around you.

“Jimin!” You scream, eyes welling up with tears, “You promised you wouldn’t hurt me! You promised! Why are you doing this to me?!”

He laughs at you, and it isn’t necessarily malevolent but merely amused, as if he in on a joke you weren’t part of.

“Shhhh, quiet down my little sea nymph...” He whispers salaciously into your ear, “...your fate will be painless.”

You’re crying now, digging your nails into his skin, attempting to break free as the massive creature that is the ocean rushes towards you without mercy. The crest of the wave arches above you proudly, the swirling darkness of the water mocking the mere audacity of your existence but, as you brace for impact- it never comes.  

Only the darkness does...

And it’s the darkness that consumes you.  

“Jimin!” A voice breaks into your subconscious, luring you out of what you hope was a nightmare, “You couldn’t have brought her home without scaring her? She was practically driftwood when she arrived here.”

That familiar twinkle of laughter sounds then and, it forces your eyes open.  

“I’m sorry your grace- it's just in my nature.” He defends poorly, still chuckling to himself, “I can’t imagine my brothers are doing much better.”

You are somewhere extraordinary, that much is certain. Above your immediate line of sight is an ornate glass ceiling that seems to glow a cerulean blue. All around you are gold furnishings, each decorated with various moldings of sea creatures.  

“She’s awake!”  

Your vision, still slightly cloudy, now lands upon a being so beautiful- that you have to blink a few times to ensure you’re seeing the right thing. Draped in blue silk and decorated with gold and pearls, is a woman who looks at you with nothing but love in her eyes.

“Oh my- its really you...”

She seems tentative but, you’re suddenly overcome with joy- filled with an almost cosmic sense of peace.  

“Mother!” You cry, rushing off of the bed you were laying on and into her arms.  

She takes you in her arms immediately, her skin cool against yours like the tepid waters of the bay. She sniffles, tightening her grip on you,

“I knew you’d come home...I knew one day I would find you.”

And it really doesn’t make much sense does it?

How could your life swing so violently from one direction to the next?

Your life on earth seems so insignificant now...now that you’re back with her.  

Cymopoleia- queen of violent sea storms and, your mother.  

She explains it all to you, gently stroking your hair and fawning over you.  

The spirit in the depths was you. Born into a human body, you were fated to one day meet with the demi-god of darkness, who with a bit of trickery- would return you to your rightful place in the cosmos.  

Your mother assures you that your mortal family would be relieved of your memory until it was safe for you to visit them, until the gods of fate decide. In addition, Lord Invictus would be the last of the bloodline to pay for what his ancestor had done and, the fog of greed and corruption- which begin the day you were born, would soon be lifted.  

The explanation is long and doesn’t leave you completely fulfilled but, your mother assures you that you have all the time in the world to understand the complexity of the universe.  

Hours later, after you’ve had a decent feast, your mother instructs Jimin to escort you to your bedroom.  

As he leads you down the hallway towards your chambers, you send a playful glare his way, “So- how much of what you told me was a lie?”

He merely smirks, “None of it.”

You scoff, “Even the part of about your voice? And all that nonsense about excitement and me being curious? You knew all along what was to happen- you just tricked me.”

Jimin chuckles darkly, stopping just outside your bedroom door before turning to you, “The part about my voice frightening people wasn’t a lie, Y/N. My father is the god of punishment, any mortal that hears my voice usually cowers in fear...”

“Is that why I felt so drawn to you? Because you were meant to take me home?”  

His smirk broadens, “No...you feel drawn me because you want to fuck me.”

Your mouth goes completely dry at his bold statement but, you are unable to deny it- your fingers suddenly twitching at your side.

“Wh-”

“It’s not your fault really...” He murmurs, his body shifting towards you, “...it’s just the way I was made. I am used to people lusting after me- however,” Jimin reaches out then, to brush his thumb over the swell of your cheek, “-I have never known true lust until I had the pleasure of meeting you.”

“You lust for me?” You whisper, completely drawn up with desire- finally allowing your true nature, the nature of a demi-goddess pour out of your soul.

He licks his lips, his gaze upon you timid as he presses his thumb into your face, “I do.”  

You turn to the side suddenly, capturing his thumb between your lips, “Show me.”

It's all it takes: that one phrase of consent being enough to unleash all the urges within him.

You’re inside your chamber seconds later, Jimin clawing at the fabric of your robe, his fingers digging into your skin as he does, his lips latching on to every part of you he can reach.

“I knew the moment you walked into my tower-” He grunts, “I knew- there was no way a mortal could be tempting, so dreadfully seductive.”

You sigh hopelessly, raking your hands through the sapphire tendrils on his head, your lips ghosting along the swell of his cheek, the tail of his brow, the shell of his ear...

“In the underworld...” He’s practically growling now, scratching his nails up the newly exposed skin of your back, “We are never taught to refuse our desires. You were my greatest challenge- it took everything in me not to devour you right there.”

You smirk now, positioning your lips at his ear, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with you though- aren't you glad you were patient?”

He grunts again, pressing his hips against yours defiantly, “Patience is for virtuous gods- “ He doesn't answer your question but, you know that he means yes. In spite of his darker nature, Jimin still believes in doing the right thing.... most of the time.  

He has you on the bed moments later, his wings spreading proudly. He’s panting, his eyes completely black with lust as he nudges your legs open, determined to finally taste what he’s been craving.  

For the demi-god of darkness, denying his desires for even a second is painful. He aches to fufill them over and over again...

You were certainly no exception.  

But you want to keep teasing him...

Reaching down, you spread yourself open for him- feeling the visceral substance of your arousal sticking to your inner thighs.

“What are you waiting for then?” You lean up, grasping your hand behind his neck and staring directly into the abyss that is his gaze, “Defile me...”

Jimin growls, sliding into you instantly, his hands quickly bracing themselves on either side of your head. He smirks as your eyes roll back the sheer pleasure of him inside of you causing your nipples to harden.  

“Oh look at that-” He chuckles, his own expression unstable with pleasure, “Are you going brain dead already hm? Is this cock that good?”

Your eyes come back into play as you stare up at him, your hands gripping either side of his face as he starts a power rhythm within you.  

This wasn’t meant to last long, the carnal desire too much for either one of you to handle...

Perhaps, if your feelings permitted it- you'd make love another time.  

Nodding, you moan as he increases the rhythm, pressing your forehead against his own.  

“You feel so good.” You whisper, “I didn’t know it could- oh...” A whimper leaves your lips as he hits that spot inside of you, the pleasure completely ruining your ability to speak.

“Of course you didn’t- you’ve only ever let mortals play with your pretty cunt haven’t you?” He laughs, mocking you and cooing all at once, “And now that I’ve gotten ahold of it, you’re never going to want anyone else. I will ruin you ugh-” He finally breaks, his own brow furrowed with the onslaught of his release as you tighten around him, “-ugh fuck yes. I can feel how badly your cunt wants me- it's like you’re begging me to cum.”

“I want you to cum,” You whisper shakily, kissing at his mouth, “Fill me up please, I need it.”

He growls, kissing you back with just as much fervor, his hips moving so fast that the pleasure fucks with your vision.  

“I’m going to make a mess of you, they will smell me on you until I can come back-” He promises, smirking ever so slightly, “and then- I'll paint the inside of you all over again won’t I? Such a masterpiece this cunt will be...and you’ll be all mine, cumming only for me.”  

And he wasn’t wrong because, mere seconds later- the two of you are cumming all over one another, ruining the silk sheets with your release and clawing desperately at one another.  

With the mutual utterance of your names, Jimin collapses beside you and, moments later- when you get your wits about you, he is ushering you onto his chest.  

Sweaty, exhausted and satisfied, you lay together in silence for quite a while.

Until finally you speak, “I’m not quite sure what came over me.”

Jimin chuckles but this time, the sound is much warmer than you’re used to, “Immortal lust, it’s a blessing and a curse but, eternal life has to stay interesting somehow.”

You trace patterns on his chest whilst he covers your body with one of his wings, the feathers teasing at your sensitive skin.

“Did you mean it?”  

And he doesn’t even bother asking, he knows exactly what you’re referring to.

“I want you.” He affirms, “If you’ll have me- I felt quite possessive of you then but, I won’t insist on anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You smile, tracing a heart directly over the spot where his heart would beat, “It fits doesn’t it? You and I?”

If the past few days have taught you anything, it is that sometimes- it is appropriate to succumb to fate. Sometimes, believing in the simplicity of destiny works out. Being with Jimin felt right and, for now, this was enough.  

“It does.” His statement is simple but his expression says it all: he is elated.

You fall back into comfortable silence once again before one more pressing question leaves your lips, “Did I hear you mention something about your brothers earlier?”

Jimin nods, his eyes half-closed as he cuddles closer to you, “You did. I have six of them.”

“Are they- like you?” You murmur, unable to stop your curiosity.

He nods again, “They are.”

You think one more question will suffice but, his answer will unfortunately bring about a thousand more, “Are they all on missions too?”

Jimin’s trademark smirk shows itself once again as he snickers, “They are-” He repeats before a great sense of pride comes over his expression...

“I was just the first one to return.”

A/N: should this be a series? asking for a friend...

[constancelaufeydottir]

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝

Pairing: Neighbour!Bucky x reader

Warnings: Mentions of knife, blood, cursing, murder, mention of cannibalism, dark!Bucky(?), major character death, slight smut, fluff.

Summary: Bucky set his eyes on his sweet and cute neighbour who had suffered from a loss recently, determined to make her his.

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: This is my entry for @ambrosiase hotel indigo writing challenge. It’s my first ever writing challenge, and I had a lot of fun writing this! Honestly, I'm really grateful for this challenge because it motivates me to finish this wip that has been sitting in the draft for too long. Thank you for this lovely challenge mae ♡♡

Not beta’d, all mistakes are my own. If you see any mistakes, do let me know!

Room ⥤ Modern muse

Room service ⥤ neighbour + criminal

“Oh that poor thing.”

Bucky whipped his head in the direction of the voice. It was Mrs. Lockwood, his neighbour on the right.

“Huh?” He didn’t mean to voice out his confusion, but his brain was somewhat short-circuited, barely able to function when his sight was filled with you, and you only.

“That sweet girl over there,” Mrs. Lockwood was referring to you, his sweet neighbour to the left he was staring at, before the old lady came interrupting.

He had been staring for 5, 10 minutes maybe? He swore he wasn’t a pervert, you were just a sight for sore eyes, the healer of the wounds in his soul.

“What about y/n?” He asked, curious to listen to what his neighbour would say about the other neighbour. Also, he was fairly new to the neighbourhood, having just moved in last month, he ought to catch up with the gossip.

“Her boyfriend went missing a few months back, poor girl was devastated. Police suspected it was murder, even suspected y/n!” The old lady shook her head, casting pitying glances at the oblivious girl in the sundress, bathing under the sun with a book in her hand. “She’s such a sweet girl, how could they have suspected her?”

Bucky glanced at you, heart racing when you caught him looking. You shyly waved at him, a small smile plastered on your face hiding the underlying sadness of the loss of your loved one. His hand felt clammy when he raised one of them to wave back, his usual flirty self vanished whenever you were involved in the equation.

“Boy, you are in love aren’t ya,” Mrs. Lockwood teased, “I say go for it. Our lovely y/n definitely needs some lovin’ after what she’d been through and young man, I think you are the right person.” Her eyes crinkled as she patted Bucky encouragingly on the shoulder, like a loving mother cheering up her son.

Bucky, who was usually composed, blushed furiously. That big brain of his still hadn’t regained its functions thus he found himself unable to stop Mrs. Lockwood when she hollered at you.

Clearly immersed in your book, you jumped a little when you heard your name being called.

“Y/n, this young man would love to take you out on a date, what d’ya say?” His eyes widened at the accusation, though it was true that he wanted to date you, he just needed time to gather the guts to ask you out.

He saw you put down your book, walking towards him and Mrs. Lockwood. You were a front yard away from him, shielding the harsh sunlight from your eyes with your hands while leaning onto the fence.

“I’d love to,” you had to speak louder, and Bucky loved your voice as he only heard it only a handful of times now, often you were shy and quiet when you saw him.

“U-uhm, how about Saturday then,” He stuttered like a teenage boy who first received a love letter, suddenly forgetting how to speak, speech lost in the sea of disbelief and excitement, and affection.

You said nothing, only nodding and smiling at him, flashing those pearly whites.

“Great. 6pm. I’ll pick you up,”

“See you soon, James.” He watched as you walked away, a teasing smile on your face before you disappeared into the door. Gosh how he loved the way his name sounded on your lips, and he’d give anything to hear it again, and again.

Saturday came too soon, Bucky was not prepared at all. Well, he had done the reservations for the restaurant he’d planned to bring you to tonight, ironed out the creases and wiped off the non-existent dust on the dress shirt he would be wearing, so why was he nervous?

5:50 pm.

Call him old-fashioned or whatever, he’d prefer early to late and would love to escort you to his car. He stood in front of your porch, palm sweating and if his metal arm could secrete sweats, he was pretty sure it would end up like its counterpart.

You opened the door as soon as he rapped his knuckles on the wooden door, seeming eagerly waiting for him as he was for you.

He took in your outfit, the moderately revealing dress he liked, the one he saw you undress from, through his window countless times.

If it was possible to fall into a deeper love, he would.

The date couldn’t possibly be better than he imagined, it was perfect. Everything was great; the atmosphere of the restaurant, the quality of the food, and most importantly, you.

You were shy at first but opened up fairly quickly, telling him stories about you, and vice versa. You sympathized with him when he told you how he got the metal arm, your fingers grazing the delicate and intricate loops and lines on the metal surface.

His fingers were woven into yours halfway into the dinner, the cool metal fingers of his absently caressing your knuckles as you shared the story about your family, who disappeared mysteriously, then your ex-boyfriend, who went missing 5 months ago, like your family.

It was hard, talking about missing loved ones. Bucky could tell, by the way your hand unconsciously tightened, the lingering sadness in your eyes as you mentioned how happy you were before him. The way your tears were brimming in your eyes, threatening to glide down your face, it wrenched his heart, seeing how broken you were. He would try to pick up every broken piece of you in a heartbeat, mending them back together, fixing you until you were happy again if you would let him in.

He was kind of glad your ex-boyfriend was out of the picture, though it was a selfish thing to say. He desperately wanted to claim you, wanted to be your last and only boyfriend.

He’d been going on dates with you for a few months now. You were perfect, almost too perfect if he would say. You were practically his dream girl, so kind and generous. So sweet and loving. Pretty much everybody in this neighbourhood would agree with him and he sometimes wondered if he really deserved you. A beauty mingling with a beast. No one would ever want to see that, after all, even the beast turned into a handsome prince at the end of the fairytale.

Bucky wondered, if you found out what he did every night after you were asleep or what he took from your closet when you were away, would you still want him? If you found out the beast within him, would you still love him the same?

His thoughts were occupied and it wasn’t until the sharp pain in his fingers that he snapped out of his trance.

“Fuck!” You heard him cursing and went to him, gasping when you saw the streams of blood flowing from the deep cut from two of his fingers.

Hastily reaching out for the clean cloth from one of the drawers, you placed it over the wound, applying pressure on them.

The red quickly seeped through the pristine white cloth, two colours clashing as the red engulfed the white.

Bucky noticed you wincing at the red, gulping at the sight, head slightly turned away. It was obvious you were uncomfortable at the sight of blood, so he took the cloth himself and nudged you to wash the faint hint of blood on your palms.

“Sorry, now you might have to do this alone,” Bucky gestured at the ingredients on the counter, “and sorry for the cloth, blood stains are quite hard to get rid off.”

“Don’t you worry, a little hydrogen peroxide and the cloth will be as good as new,” Bucky let you tend to his wounds and pushed him towards the living room where he would sit at the couch for the next hour while you were busy at the kitchen preparing dinner.

While he was in the living room, he took in the interior of your house. He never got to take a close look, as he always had to sneak in when it was dark. The beige colour walls, cream coloured furnitures, books arranged perfectly on the floating shelves. The pictures and art hung on the clean walls, not one of them is crooked. The square coffee table with only the remote and a display plant on it, and when he shifted himself to sit at the center of the couch, did he realize the coffee table was lined up perfectly in the middle of the TV and the couch.

Bucky’s eyebrows raised, he didn’t depict you as a meticulous person. No wait, whenever he went out with you, you’d arrange the plates to sit between the utensils perfectly. When you get boba, the straws must precisely be in the center of the cup, and if you missed it, your eyebrows would furrow in annoyance subconsciously.

His eyes wandered over to your figure in the kitchen and was not surprised to find you wiping and hanging the cutting board on the ceramic wall, adjusting it with your fingers so it wouldn’t be crooked while waiting for the stew to simmer.

You caught him looking at you and threw a smile at him in which he reciprocated, then continued to let his eyes wander through your living room. This could easily be an IKEA showroom, he thought.

Another week went by, Bucky found himself more and more in love with you, if that was possible in the first place as if he didn’t already dedicate all the space in his heart for you.

You were both in the kitchen again. This time however, he was busy mixing the sugar, flour, and cocoa powder mixture, with you snuggling behind him, arms circling his waist as you watched him do the magic.

He felt sorry for not helping last time so he was making up to you by baking some brownies.

As you both were cleaning up, brownies baking in the oven, Bucky turned to you.

“Hey, I never asked, but what do you do for a living?” He questioned nonchalantly while wiping the huge plastic bowl.

The wet spatula fell from your grip, dropping into the sink of water, droplets of soapy liquid flecked on your shirt.

“O-oh, i’m an artist!” You let out a laugh to conceal your flustered state, “Aspiring artist to be exact.”

“An artist,” he hummed, as if chewing onto the meaning of the word, “could you show me your works?”

Your head whipped towards his direction, mouth parted in surprise. Nobody has ever appreciated your dream. Your family, your friends, your ex-boyfriends, all of them claimed that being an artist would lead you to being unsuccessful, and you deemed to prove them wrong.

“Yes, yes, of course,” you were overjoyed. Abandoning the half-washed utensils, you clasped your hand around his wrist and dragged him to follow you towards the second floor, into a room hidden behind another beige coloured door, where you kept all your works.

Rows of headless mannequins clothed in white dresses painted with red blossoms appeared before him as you pushed open the door.

He was utterly mesmerized. He trailed his gaze across the display, a smile painted his lips as he deduced that every piece of them was unique. No two dresses had the same pattern.

Some had plain red blossoms splattered on it, some had dark red waves littering on the bottom hem; some with brush strokes of red. There was also a different tone of red, bright and dark or somewhat in between.

“Wow, this is just … amazing!” He found himself at a loss for words, “are those blood?”

“Yes, they are.”

“I thought you don’t like blood?” Bucky teased.

“These are animal blood. I’m fine with it as long as it’s not coming out from a human,” you retorted.

He chuckled. Once again admiring the intricate patterns of your works, marvelling at how talented and perfect you were. His heart sank at the thought of the question he frequently found himself asking, how can someone so perfect like you end up with someone less than perfect like him.

You apparently noticed his changed demeanor as you inched yourself closer to pull him into an embrace, placing your chin on his chest, eyes searching for his sad blue ones.

“Are you okay?” He hugged you tighter, sighing.

“I’m fine. I just … I think you’re perfect and you’re everything I've ever wanted. But I'm not sure if I'm perfect enough for you.”

“Oh James, you’re more than enough. I assure you, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted too.”

Bucky felt like his heart was filled to the brim with adoration, butterflies erupted from his stomach. Your assurance was everything to him, keeping his wandering soul anchored and he was grateful for it, grateful for your existence. The more the reason to cage you by his side so you couldn’t ever leave him.

His lips were on yours the next second, his grip on your waist tightened as you deepened the kiss, tongue finding his; busy hands sliding from his stomach to his shoulder.

Both of you were drowning in this ecstasy, unwilling to part away from each other’s touch.

The loud ding of the oven startled the both of you. Momentarily parting from each other, you stared at him with a heated glance. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust, desire.

“Fuck the brownies,” you whispered, molding your soft lips on him once again, the hunger for each other far greater than the stupid brownies, “need you now.”

Bucky didn’t need to be told twice, large hands cupping your bottom as you hopped and hooked your legs behind him, arms instinctively went to his shoulders for support.

He brought the both of you to your room, the one he was all too familiar with, the one with the same cream coloured theme which could definitely pass as another IKEA showroom judging by how perfect the layout was.

The only odd thing that stood out in this far too perfect room was the trail of scratch marks extending from the door frame to the wall outside of the room.

The deep scratch marks were somehow etched deep in his brain, he couldn’t let it go. It felt as if there was a dot of blank ink on a piece of white paper, and even though there was more white than black, you’d only be fixated on the dot of black.

He would ask you about the haunting marks on the wall and your fingers that were tracing patterns on his skin would falter, you’d give him the warm smile he loved while brushing it off saying it was the huge Dobermann your aunt owned which did that.

Even when he was balls deep in you, the vivid image of the scratch marks were there in his head, though you were quick to draw back his attention with a grind on his hips, both of your bodies covered with sheen of perspiration. Strands of your hair sticking to your body, but you pay no care to them as you rocked your hips, chanting his name over and over again like a mantra, like a prayer.

His eyes were on your fucked out state, his grip on you like steel. The cool surface of his metal arm contrasted with your hot flushed body as you chase your high like a traveller chasing the oasis in a desert, desperate for a quench of thirst.

Even when he was chasing the same high, vision blinding with bliss, the marks were still there and this time they were accompanied by the white dresses painted with red, and red only.

Bucky was always a doubtful person. Doubting every single decision he’d ever made. Doubting himself, doubting others. But there was one thing he was certain of, there was something less than innocent lurking underneath your skin. Of course, he was still head over heels for you but he was pretty adamant to find out the sinister in you, hoping it would answer his questions, mainly the recurring image of a certain mark.

Bucky was a lot of things, dumbass , dork, clumsy(per sam), but he was not stupid. Hell, he was far from stupid. Those scratch marks, definitely not the Dobermann.

You were a perfectionist, you couldn’t possibly leave the mark there and acted like nothing happened in the first place. He’d imagine if it was the dog, you’d probably have someone fix the dent the same day, unwilling to allow even a speck of blemish in your flawless house.

Bucky was a lot of things, and being a dumbass was definitely one of them as he was showing up on your porch in the evening unannounced.

He’d considered sneaking in like he used to do but he knew, he saw that you were still in the house. He couldn’t and wouldn’t jeopardize your relationship with him knowing he’d get caught.

He knocked on your door, hearing footsteps paddling, rushing to him.

As you opened the door, your eyes widened at the sight of an awkward Bucky. Although you were quick to throw him an unalarming smile, he still caught the nervousness in you.

There was something off with you. The disheveled hair, thin layer of sweat adorning the crown of your head, unknown wet liquid staining your shirt.

He caught a whiff of the strong smell of chemicals wafting through the door, it smelled a lot like bleach.

“I’m sorry,” he scratched at the back of his neck, “is this not a good time?”

“It’s fine, come on in.”

The smell of bleach invaded his nose the moment he stepped into your house, flooding and overwhelming his senses causing him to wince.

“Were you deep cleaning?”

“Yeah, I accidentally spilled some of the animal blood this morning. Had to use hell lots of hydrogen peroxide to get rid of them. Sorry for the smell.”

“No no, it’s okay. Let me just open the windows and door, okay?” He was getting a little light-headed now, desperately needing some fresh air. “Doll, you need to ventilate every time you use bleach, it’s harmful for your health to inhale all these fumes.”

You blushed at the term of endearment, yet wanting to blame him for not calling you that earlier.

He went over to open the windows, sighing contentedly at the waves of fresh air hitting his face as the wind blew in.

He felt your arms snaking around him, head leaning against his broad back.

“I love you, James. Wouldn’t know what to do without you.”

“I love you too.” He turned around and hugged you, his chin propped on your head, not knowing you had a solemn expression on your face.

He’d spent the evening with you, watching TV on the couch with you in his lap. It was so mundane yet he’d never got bored of this, wanting to do this with you for the rest of his life.

Outside the window, the orange and yellow sky faded into darkness.

“Let’s order take out, how about Thai food?”

“I’ll cook,” you kissed him on the lips and got up from his lap before he could reply anything.

“Ok, you need help?” He heard a faint ‘no, it’s fine’ coming out of the kitchen followed by the clanking of pots and utensils.

His neck stretched to peek at your figure in the kitchen, too busy chopping up ingredients to notice he was no longer at the living room.

He made his way down the basement, where the pungent smell of the bleach was still lingering.

The wood creaked as he stepped on the stairs, announcing his arrival to the darkness surrounding the basement. The soft glow of light illuminated the large space, a wall of tins stacking on each other revealed to him. A few easels of different sizes were propped on the wall with several grey aprons hanging beside them.

He walked closer to examine the insane amount of tins. A small label that said Pig blood was stickered on the body of the white tin.

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. Do people really sell animal blood in metal tins, wouldn’t they go bad?

There were loads of questions in Bucky’s head, questions with answers only you could provide.

He noticed a chest freezer sitting in the corner of the basement and his legs brought him to it before he came to realize. The whole basement was so quiet he could hear the soft ringing in his ears, the racing of his heartbeat amplified as his hand inched towards the lid.

There was nothing in the freezer, to his surprise.

The empty freezer stared back at him, as if mocking his fruitless attempt. He was relieved, or disappointed, he couldn’t tell the difference and there was no point in distinguishing them now since you had nothing to hide. He wasn’t even sure what he was expecting to find in the freezer.

“Babe?” You stood behind him with an apron on, a knife in your hand, a second after he closed the door to the basement.

He leaned against the door frame, hand went to his head, eyes squeezed shut as he pretended he was having a headache.

“Felt dizzy all of a sudden, I was just making my way to the bathroom.”

“Oh, okay. I was just about to tell you dinner's almost ready,” a tooth-rotting smile was plastered on your face.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” he watched as you walked away, letting out the breath he’d been holding. His palm was clammy, heart beating rapidly.

“I love you,” You placed your hand on his arm, eyes meeting his.

“I know, doll. I love you too.”

This was seconds before dinner.

“James, I love you.” You whispered, watching him giving you a grin before he stuffed the meatball into his mouth.

“Wow, I'm so loved today. It’s the secon- no, third time you’ve said ‘I love you’ to me today.” He grinned, heart bursting with love. “You know I love you too.”

This was mid-dinner.

“I love you so much, James.”

Bucky was getting suspicious of you. Were you hiding something, perhaps cheating on him? For there were no reasons for you to keep telling him you loved him even though he knew how much you loved him and vice versa.

“I love you,” you kissed his knuckles, “this might be the last time I get to say I love you, James.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your statement, mouth parting to question what you meant. Before he could voice out something, the world faded into nothingness.

A thin film of blurriness clouded his eyes when he opened them, Bucky had this feeling like he was drowning in a swamp and his whole body was bound.

Blinking furiously, he regained his vision. You were sitting on a chair leaning forwards while looking at him endearingly, your elbows propped on your knees, palms supporting your chin.

“Hello, my love,” you were smiling oh so sweetly. The same smile that got him mesmerized and head over heels, except this time he didn’t feel the warm fuzzy feeling exploding in his chest, this time it was the goosebumps crawling on his arms and the chill creeping up his spine.

Now everything made sense, every single of his questions was answered.

You looked down at his body, the one that was once full of life, full of love. You watched as his glassy blue eyes etched with fear quickly reduced into this grey lifeless orbs, still pretty but lacking the element of a beautiful soul.

You weep for him, mourn for him. Mourning the short duration of love shared between the both of you. Mourning for yourself, for falling too hard. Mourning for him who kept you always in his heart.

To be honest, you were a little hesitant to end his life, he was better than the last one. He was perfect, warm, kind, loving, gentle, but not perfect enough. He simply did not reach your expectations, and you, could not bear imperfections, even the slightest. The answer to his downfall was pretty easy, he was too close to the ugly truth. And despite you knowing his love for you outweighs his doubt and fear in you, you simply couldn’t risk it.

Your love for perfection exceeds your love for him.

The melodious music of your ringtone echoed in the ample space of the basement, you brought up your phone to your ears as you answered the call.

“Mrs. Lockwood? Yes. Of course. I did. No no no, I’ll do it for you this time. He would definitely taste delicious I assure you.”

Time to get to work, you sighed as you stood there with a white dress splattered with blood. How artistic, you thought.

You always loved this part of the process, you’d wear the whitest piece of dress you own whenever you work with your projects.

You loved how the blood peppered your clothes, forming blossoms of dark red flowers on the fabric.

You kept every single piece of them, because no two are the same. Every one of them tells a story, of men and women who loved you and who you loved, of those who were once a body with a soul.

Wiping away the tears rolling down your cheeks, you gave Bucky one last loving look and the blade of your butcher knife came in contact with his once pink but now pale skin as you hummed, the sound bouncing off the walls of the basement, forming echoes.

A few blocks away, a baby cried, body covered in mucus. The tiny infant cried, each time louder than the previous, wailing his lungs out, as if mourning. For one soul born, another reaped.

[cubedmango]

u know what fuck it . ive already had 3 kind of accurate predictions so im gonna throw one last very wishful thinking inspired prediction out into the world for the last ep . if the universe is kind it will make my hopes happen and if not then. i will go lie down in a ditch and cry i guess (under the cut bc wow this got a bit long)

patpran Do break up for realsies. no fakery or going back to secret dating or anything. they decide that the times just not right for them, and that if they can only have either their relationship or their familys support, they need the latter more

the scene of them telling their parents Does happen . they Do react like the shit parents they are. hate to say this but its extremely in-character for them its very real so

they announce said break up to everyone at uni. they all think theyre joking or had some fight while they were gone. maybe here patpran explain their full history to their friends (if they havent already)??? anyways none of them are happy about this

insert extremely sad snippets of them just watching each other from afar or looking at the guitar/watch/pick/shirt/earphones/god theyve shared so much shit help with painful yearning . everyone notices

the time skip is Not Real. either some kind of what-if scenario or a dream/daydream/nightmare sequence most likely thought up by pat, imagining them staying away from each other all those years. the reunion part is him yearning and hoping they can get back together one day because of Course he’d want that

irl though, perhaps like a montage of patpran having different demeanors around their family?? like them just Not acting the same as before, being less energetic, less responsive, etc, and here is when parents start to get concerned

maybe the separation reaching a breaking point, with pat or pran (or both) snapping at their parents like “i/we already broke up for your sake, what more do you want from me/us?” after a long time of just bottling up the issue and not bringing it up

somewhere, pran saving pa as kids finally being brought up?? possibly by pa herself whos now ready to talk about it???? just pa also having enough of their parents acting like little children and making her brother and the person who’s literally the reason she’s even alive rn both miserable

the friends could step in as well, tell them about just how different patpran have been recently after the break up?? would love it if wai told dissaya something about pran during boarding school and how shaken he was then because of the sudden transfer that she caused, and korn talking about how just. Mad pat used to be at everything and causing unnecessary fights. or something!! many possibilities

ming and dissaya (and the other two too) finally having that moment of realization of “Oh. We’re Actually Hurting Our Kids By Being The Way That We Are” and possibly even doing something about it? shockingly?? wow

and then something something the parents having A Lengthy Talk and deciding to either reconcile (not likely i think lol but would be sweet) or to at least be civil towards each other for their sons’ sake, coming to a truce to put their past behind them from there onwards or to at least no longer force their own views onto the boys

both parents apologizing to their kids for everything because i am a tired asian who just wants to see some fictional parents admit their fault For Once !!! if nothing else this is the one thing id want to manifest in the ep

and then ummmm. scene of them asking patpran to meet them together and (cries) telling them that theyre ok with it if theyre dating and (sobs) and that theyd support them and (wails) and

yeah and then like . real montage of how things Actually end for them w them getting back together and really going to the reunion together and graduating and . Just Being Happy!!!! they deserve it!!!!!! maybe a hint to s2 with inkpa or waikorn crumbs and thats it thats the ending thanks for coming to my tedtalk

[class1akids]

What's your take on the fandom drama with people claiming that Hawks is an abuse apologist? Seems quite whack if u ask me.

Here are my preliminary thoughts:

1. Chill the fuck out. 

Here are my additional thoughts:

MILD SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT

1. Ideal and reality are most often different. Endeavor was an abuser to his family. Endeavor was a real hero to Hawks who made a difference to his life. These things co-existed. You don’t need to have All Might’s perfection to make a difference in someone’s life. Damaged people can still save (yay, that should be good news for everyone rooting for villains). And everything that plushie represented to Hawks - the hope, the comfort, an ideal to work towards was real and tangible and therefore inherently valuable. 

2. Hawks fits neatly into the Todoroki family with his background, with trying to break away from prisons of first his birth circumstances, then the cage the Hero Commission put him in. Just like Shouto and Touya, he struggles with a lack of self beyond being someone’s tool (Why do you even exist? What a horrible, heart breaking question to ask from a child?) On the road to become a hero, they took every piece of his identity, even his name  - and his empty house shows how he lacks real attachments. 

3. Hawks undercover mission led him to form an unlikely friendship with a person whose main struggle was also his identity - because of his quirk. He first viewed Twice as unlucky, the type of tragic life he was born into. So he tried to “save” him, like little Keigo was saved. But Twice refused it, because despite the confused mind his quirk condemned him to, he had a solid identity that remained the same across his clones: he was driven by the desire to be trusted, to be useful to his friends to his dying breath. The type of attachment Hawks never experienced, it seems. 

4.  By the way, Twice’s friends are murderers and terrorists - who have caused real pain to other people, broken other homes through loss and grief no doubt - but their brokenness doesn’t take away from the pureness of this desire of wanting to help others. It doesn’t matter if they are broken people, their bonds are genuine and intrinsically valuable. They support each other’s ideals and dreams. (Unlike the Hero Commission that first gave Hawks an identity of a hero then took it away from him, forcing him into the role of a spy where he never had a chance to be authentic and to save and viewed his own values as dispensable). 

5. Hawks finds inspiration in watching Twice going all out for his friends. It’s something solid and real. It may remind him of his own original childhood dream of helping others like he was helped. Those real bonds make even a tragic life full of meaning. 

6. So what does Hawks do with all this? Now that he is free to form attachments, because his cage is finally broken? Now that he’s has to fuse his two identities,  Takami Keigo (son of the murderer Thief Takami) and Hawks (the pro-hero)? It’s an opportunity for him to show his true colors... (oh, the sweet, sweet Todoroki family parallels)  

7. So what if it is revealed that the toy he held so close, that seems to be his most real attachment was broken all along? You all are mad that with all this knowledge and experience, he doesn’t say I’m going to trash this broken plushie that helped me through a very rough childhood, that gave me a direction to work towards, because now I’m rich and I can afford to drop 30-bucks to get the real thing? 

8. We still have no idea what Hawks plans to do next. Remember that his plan of saving Twice was to both hold him accountable and to support him in putting his life on a better track.  Recognition that crimes and sins must be paid for, but the goodness in someone deserves a second chance. 

9. There are haunting parallels between Shouto and Hawks throughout the chapter. But the last bit? When Hawks decides to support Endeavor? He was reading a letter from his mother, who let him down and sold him out. AGAIN. And remembers the hopeful look on Shouto’s face when they ran into each other at the internships.  Hawks’ own parents never gave a crap about him, never wanted to change. But he senses that it’s not the same in the Todoroki-family. Because he’s been watching Endeavor, he’s been watching Shouto. So maybe... maybe... as an abused child himself, he can put himself into the shoes of someone else and think that maybe they can have something Hawks himself wished he had. Parents who care enough to try to become better. Maybe he believes that’s something worthy of support. 

10. Hawks is reflective, he sees his own hypocrisy that Twice called him out for. His cage kept him from being authentic. But he wants to use his freedom to return to his origin. To the kid born to villains, who became a hero against all odds. He wants to honor his ideals that told him to meddle, to help, to stay honest even when it’s hard. 

TL; DR: What can I say?  Justice and compassion. Identity. Change. Self-determination. Fixing broken bonds. Ideal vs Reality. Forgiveness vs accountability. This is what the entire Todoroki family plot is about... It’s all heavy stuff that fills up entire books of ethics, philosophy, psychology and religion. There are no black-and-white easy answers. 

Why are you all surprised?

[dracosaurusrex]

i love ur writing!!! can u maybe do a hc where its post war! draco x reader where they get married right, then reader gets pregnant with scorpius!! and its like them taking care of him, seeing him growing up and sending him off to hogwarts etc etc yk? also u dont have to do this ofc 🤍!!

Beautiful Boy (Darling Boy) 🌱 - Headcanon

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Hi nonnie!! I’m sorry it took me a while to get to this. Besides being occupied with schoolwork, I thoroughly had to think about how Draco would be as a father. I hope you enjoy!! It’s a lil long too aha.

PS. Kudos to you if you know where the title comes from aha

When Draco found out you were pregnant, there was no containment to the pure joy he had felt in the moment

Tears of joy brimmed his eyes

Crushing embraces

Playful kisses transitioned to more passionate ones as he poured out his love for you

Despite the years following the end of the war, he still didn’t feel deserving of you

Furthermore, he didn’t feel deserving of parenting a child with you

But one thing he was certain of was that he didn’t want to be anything like his father.

The very thought chilled him and struck fear to his bones

“Draco, you’ll make a great father” you say constantly. Each time you do so wrapping him in a warm embrace

It surprised you seeing him cry for the first time as he cradled your growing bump

“Do you think he can hear me?” He’d ask

You nodding as you wiped the tears rolling down his face

“I don’t want him to grow up like I did.”

“Love, we wouldn’t be here if you didn’t go through any of it.”

More silent tears and kisses to your bump

“I’ll do my best for you and your mother, I promise.”

Him kissing your bump one last time

“We’ll do our best for each other” you reassure

-🌱- 

There’s no end to him showing you how much he loves you.

The morning sickness, weird cravings, the aches and pains—this man spoiled you and made sure you were comfortable as much as possible

Happy wife = happy life

You both taking turns to tell the baby in your womb stories

Draco playing the piano with you and the baby by his side

You’d be cuddling as you both thought of names

Him opting to follow Black tradition and use names from constellations

“If it’s a girl, it should be Maia Altair. Both are the brightest stars within their respective constellations.” He said.

“How about Lyra Celeste?”

“That’s pretty too. Goodness, I hope it’s not a girl. We’d have a hard time choosing.” He says jokingly, making you chuckle.

“How about for a boy?” You ask

“I was thinking along the lines of Scorpius... I can’t seem to think up of a middle name”

“How about Hyperion?”

“Scorpius Hyperion?” His eyes widened for a moment, “That’s perfect.”

He didn’t mind whether you’d give birth to a boy or a girl—he wanted to give his children the best whether that’d be values, or material possessions

-🌱-

Being a private family meant a gender reveal and baby shower with just the two of you.

You hand the photo of the ultrasound to him faced down

“We’re having a boy, Draco.”

Hearts pounding.

Smiles wide

Draco’s sight was transfixed on the small formation printed on the page for a bit before looking at you again

The moment reminded you of the first time you said “I love you” to one another

He presses a tender loving kiss to your lips as you wrap your arms around his torso.

The next couple of months pass quickly

Life is still happy coz wife is still happy

There’s look comprising fear and awe when Draco laid his eyes on the newborn baby boy in your arms

“May I hold him?”

You hand Scorpius to him with tears in your eyes

Scorpius being so small that he doesn’t even occupy half of Draco’s forearm

“Welcome Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy, my son” He says softly, tears following soon after yours did

-🌱-

Raising Scorpius was similar to walking on a tightrope, but even if you both fell at times, it was never hard enough to keep you down

He was a sweet boy, an obedient son

He took after Draco’s appearance: platinum hair, pointed face, and he sported a warm pair of grey eyes

But he bore your kind and compassionate personality, which Draco adored

Regardless of how much of your personality he inherited, Scorpius still had his father’s attitude sometimes, much to your amusement and shock

Draco spoiling him throughout his youth

You dressing Scorpius up

Both of you teaching the boy human decency towards witches, wizards, and muggles alike

One thing Draco made certain as a father was to make sure that Scorpius knew he was welcome to talk to his parents about anything

While you’d speak of matters of the heart, Draco would do his best to speak on matters of logic and reasoning

No matter what, you did your very best to make known to the young Malfoy that he was loved.

-🌱-

Time spent together as a family occupied the best memories of your lives

While Scorpius was growing and learning new things, you and Draco were learning (and growing) alongside him

When he was five years old, having finished his daily lessons, he walked  amongst the vast halls of the mansion, knowing exactly where his parents would be

First checks the library to find Draco focused in his study

“Papa?” He calls out with a small voice

“Yes Scorp? Have you finished your studies for today?”

“Yes, father. May I sit with you?”

That was the day that Draco introduced his own passions to his son.

The little boy on his lap looks at the book in front of him with awe as Draco tells him stories of constellations and alchemy

“That’s how we named you.”

“My name is Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy!” The sound of pride ringing from his little voice strikes a chord in Draco’s heart

He kisses the top of his head

“Yes, we’re are Malfoy’s”

“And mama?”

“Mama, is Y/N Y/M/N Malfoy.” He says with his heart fluttering.

The sound of your name never fails to reduce his insides to mush.

He then removes himself to find you painting the white peacocks that scattered the lawn

“Mama, what are you doing?”

“I’m painting love. Do you want to see?” You kiss his cheek as you gather him into your arms to give him a view of your work

“I want to learn how to do that!” 

“And what is it would you like to paint first?”

“The skies in papa’s books!”

-🌱-

As much as possible, you hid small arguments and issues from Scorpius

You and Draco had established three rules when confronting road bumps in your marriage:

Communicate needs and feelings

Give one another space when needed

Never go to bed with issues unresolved

The openness you taught your son, would be put into practice between you both

Fortunately, you being with Draco for more than ten years meant that you’ve practically seen him at his lowest points

He learned how to be vulnerable to you, and was your shoulder to cry on when needed

Nevertheless, each issue was resolved with a kiss, and something a little more *wink wink* (Scorpius would already be in bed dw)

Draco would catch himself staring at you in the kitchen one day, feeling the same way he would when he’d stare at you in your potions class

The smile you give when you notice him never changed

Scorpius taking note of this calls his dad out

“Papa, why do you love mama?” 

“She’s my best friend, Scorpius.” 

“I love mama too!”

You were the rock to your little family of three, and the older man would wonder how he became so lucky every time he thought about it.

-🌱-

Time flew by real fast in the manor. Before you know it, Scorpius turned eleven, and received his letter to Hogwarts

Robes? Check

Books? Check

Quills? Parchment? Check

Cauldron and other items? Check

Excited and nervous Scorpius Malfoy? Check.

“Papa, mama, what if no one likes me?”

Draco takes the first and last say before you can even open your mouth

“Just be yourself Scorp, and you’ll be fine.”

The platform bustling with sounds of old and new students alike

You see the Potter’s and the Weasley’s from afar and give a small wave

Draco, acting like a git, only gives a nod when you nudge his side with your elbow

Scorpius is the first to move away from his father’s side to introduce himself 

“Hi! I’m Scorpius Malfoy!” He says with a toothy grin

Albus’s eyes sparkle at a new friend, “I’m Albus Potter! This is Rose Weasley! We’re both first years!”

“Me too! Can I sit with you on the train?”

The exchange throws both Harry and Draco into a spiral, leaving you, Ginny, and Hermione thoroughly amused for the day.

“Albus- he”, 

“S-Scor-”

Both fathers are ignored.

But the happy grins they see on their sons faces calms them down slightly

The time comes for the train to take off

Draco wraps his arms around you as you wipe the tears forming 

It was a miracle that the little boy grew up to be a kind, intelligent, and talented young man. 

In that moment, Draco has never felt so grateful for his family

I apologize for the length. It’s kinda chaotic, but I hope you enjoyed reading it hehe. Thank you so much for all your support!

Tagging:

@amithatemo @littlethie @drxcomvlfx @svturtles @stretchyice @xoxohollands @dracosathenaeum @hahee154hq @mushi98 @dreaming-about-fanfictions @beiahadid @Saby06143 @rottenhexrt

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hey slug, thanks for the hard work you and your team do for the fandom!! me and some friends were discussing this and i thought it would be nice to see ur answer to this (only if it doesn't bother u, of course!!): what characters do you think parents would give a big thumbs up if you introduced them as your partner (in terms of personality and traits)? I personally think Hifumi or Ichiro would be the best son-in-law...

What an entertaining question. Believe it or not, I’ve given the matter some thought before for reasons entirely unrelated to this, so presenting: Hypnosis Microphone Men and Whether or Not You Should Bring Them Home to Your Parents.

Since there’s a wide age range among the cast members, assume that the “you” in question is roughly each character’s age.

Ichirou: Absolutely. This man is objectively a dream boat. Runs his own successful business? Check. Respectful to people of all ages? Check. Cooks? Check. Cleans? Check. Good with kids? Check. Take Ichirou and marry him before your parents marry him themselves.

Jirou: As far as high school boyfriends go, Jirou’s not a bad choice. He’s a sweetheart, popular, plays music. Doesn’t do drugs in the school bathroom. Could have better grades, but hey, you can’t win them all. He seems like he’d have you home by 8 pm. You know what? Sure. Why not? You could do worse.

Saburou: Saburou is the kind of middle school boyfriend that your parents openly like and privately dislike. What I mean is that he’s very polite to most elders and super smart, so he’s the kind of kid who is entirely unobjectionable, but he’s also the kind of kid who would try to mansplain your parents’ jobs to them. Worst of all, he would be entirely correct in what he’s saying. Your parents probably want to punch him, but they don’t because assaulting children is illegal, not to mention immoral. They will breathe a collective sigh of relief when he finally breaks up with you so he can focus on studying for the Science Bowl nationals.

Samatoki: I am so torn on this one. On the one hand, he’s every parent’s worst nightmare. He smokes indoors, has an awful temper, and is a fucking gangster, for pete’s sake. Yet he can also be a sweetheart who cooks for you and does everything to treat you right. I’m really stumped. Probably the best solution, if you’re really wanting to get in on that Aohitsugi ass, is to cut out the middle man and date Nemu instead. She is perfect in every way, so your parents will love her.

Juuto: If your parents watch Antiques Roadshow, then he will have a lot to bond with them about. Otherwise I think he’d be that kind of person who tells stories about himself way too loudly at family dinners, and after he leaves, one of your parents pulls you aside to say, “Your boyfriend’s really kind of an asshole, don’t you think?” I guess date him if you’re okay with your parents thinking you have cruddy taste.

Riou: I feel like the hard part here is luring him out of the woods and into a family dinner, but from there, it should go great. He’s over 6 feet tall. He can cook well. He has a strong sense of purpose and knows what he wants to do in life. Most importantly, he has a wonderful heart AND every survival skill known to man. He will change the oil in your parents’ car, fix the leaky pipe you’ve been meaning to get around to for six months now, clean the hood above the stove, and then swap recipes and heartfelt compliments with whichever parent does the cooking. Who cares if he doesn’t have a stable income? You don’t need that with guns like those. (insert flexing Riou image here)

Ramuda: I’m trying to think about the concept of a) dating Ramuda and b) introducing him to a set of parents, and I’m drawing an utter blank. There is nothing but “???” in my mind. I’m going to hazard a guess that this one would be a terrible idea.

Gentarou: Wow, your parents had no idea you were dating a prince of a tiny little kingdom in the Mediterranean AND a Harvard law graduate AND the winner of the Nobel Peace Prize AND the man who discovered a cure for cancer in an expedition deep into the heart of the Amazon rain forest. Look at you! What a catch. Only attempt this if your parents are gullible.

Dice: As much as I love Dice to death, this one is a no. Your parents do not want you dating a homeless man with a gambling addiction and bad table manners. Plus, the MIL here seems hard to get along with. Nuh-uh.

Jakurai: Absolutely. You’re in your 30s, so your parents are at least middle-aged. Probably they have some joint problems or some back pain. Jakurai can let them kiss that pain goodbye, and in return, they can let him kiss you! A win-win. He also boasts a handsome salary, has a lovely house, and seems like he’d be super respectful in a relationship. Yes. Go. Marry him.

Hifumi: If you’re a girl, you’re probably going to have to sit this round out. If you’re a guy or nonbinary... yeah, you’re probably going to have to sit this round out too. See, if you have a mom, how is Hifumi supposed to meet her? I guess you could... idk... stick a lampshade on her head and expect him not to notice. That could potentially work, but it’d raise a few awkward questions. If you do happen to live in a female-free household, though, you’ve hit upon the golden opportunity to make this man yours. You can replace every instance of the word “wife” in Judy Brady Syfer’s famous essay “I Want a Wife” with the word “Hifumi” and still have it make perfect sense, and it shows.

Doppo: I can’t in good conscience recommend this one. Sure, he’s hardworking and certainly polite enough, but does he have the time to respond to your emotional needs? Hell, does he have the time to respond to his own? If you invited him to family dinner, there’s a good chance that he’d need to work overtime and miss it. He’d apologize and buy you flowers to make up for it, but you know he’d also be worrying about the cost of those flowers, so... is it really worth it?

Kuukou: For some reason, my parents actually like Kuukou (although I think he’s also the only character they know besides Ichijiku), but I don’t think this would hold true for most parents. He sounds good on paper, but he’d probably make a disparaging comment about someone’s ass in the first five minutes. Perhaps if you tape his mouth shut and tell your parents he’s doing a vow of silence, then yes.

Juushi: As far as high school (is he still in high school?) boyfriends go, Juushi’s not that bad either. He’s shy but sweet. Respectful. In a band, but the kind that makes money and doesn’t operate out of someone’s garage. Yeah, you know what? Go for it. You could do worse. Just scroll up on this list if you need proof of that.

Hitoya: Yeah, absolutely. Hitoya has a great career and a fantastic attitude. He doesn’t take shit from anyone but can still be polite in the correct contexts. He also seems like the type who would get into a serious relationship and treat his partner right. Fuck it up. I support your love.

Sasara: Yes. He has the exact type of humor favored by parents of the father variety. Plus, he’s a famous comedian. There is good money to be had right there.

Roshou: Absolutely. Rather shy but very talented, hardworking teacher who obviously puts his heart and soul into his job? Of course. As long as he doesn’t death glare your parents, it will work out fantastically. Plus, he can talk about sports! That’s a thing that parents like, right?

Rei: Absolutely not. You remember last May when your parents answered a call from the IRS telling them they were about to lose all their money unless they gave the nice man on the phone their bank account password right at that very instant? He was the nice man on the phone. Why the hell would you bring this threat into your parents’ home? Look, you’re in your mid-40s. Your parents are getting up in years, and they want to see you settle down and be happy with someone. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but this is not it. Why are you with Rei in the first place? Is it the fur coat? Listen, you are a grown-ass adult, and you can buy yourself as many fur coats as you want. I believe in you. It doesn’t have to be this way - you deserve better.

[laurentspup]

Hey um….imma need you to pls continue that fic concept you had about Damen being a single father and that baby thinking Laurent is Jokaste and they spend the day at the theme park and then Damen asks him out on a date at the end of the day—-ITS SO GOOD

I beg ye 😭🙏🏼🍑♥️

oohh anon i am planning to write that fic in the future!! hopefully during thanksgiving break because i have a week off my school and job T-T so i wanna take a crack at thus fic bcs it’s running in my mind right now calling me mama like the toddler with laurent hehe c:

here’s a few more bullet points about it tho!!!

- the toddler ((i’m thinking right now might change still)) is a baby girl and i might have used “he” in the original post bcs i change my mind all the time and i just decided that i want the idea of damen tying his daughter’s hair in pigtails or braids, wearing princess dresses with her, and having tea parties with her so yeah she’s a girl for now. he would still definitely do this with his son if his son wanted but imagine damen as a girl dad!!

- also please imagine laurent and damen and the baby waiting in the princess line because this theme park has princess lines and honestly it’s disneyland. they’re at disneyland

- damen and laurent and the toddler with MATCHING MICKEY EARS T-T

- laurent is the sweetest, kindest, greatest man in this fic. no past abuse nothing!! he was loved and pampered by hennike and auguste and aleron like he deserved. and he got to grow up sweet and bookish and still witty and bitchy c:

- with that said, he definitely judged damen tho for being negligent with his child, but when he saw the untied shoelaces and this dad with two bags running after his child all worried, he couldn’t help but think oh no he’s not negligent he’s just a stressed single dad 

- one of the replies said bcs damen has untied shoelaces, he faceplants in front of laurent AND I DEFINITELY AGREE WITH THAT HE SHOULD FALL FOR LAURENT LITERALLY THAT IS ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES so thank you for the person who replied with that idea!!!!

- damen brought a stroller but his baby girl hates riding it, so he parked it somewhere and he’s lugging around a backpack and a baby bag. and bcs laurent sees this, he insists to carry the toddler the whole day they’re together because the toddler won’t let him go anyway and refuses to come back to damen haha. still, damen keeps telling laurent if he’s tired just let the baby walk or ride in the stroller or let him carry her but laurent is 100% a-ok with carrying the baby bcs he’s a softie and the baby doesnt wanna let him go even after they explained laurent is not her mom, she still LOVES HIM!!!!

- and not just the baby, even auguste’s three children (plus nicaise he’s alive too!!!) LOVES laurent who’s the cool and fun uncle but they make fun of him for hating the adrenaline inducing rides. but still they enjoy his company and this is a fic where everybody loves laurent i am making it law.

- lil side not about jokast and damen’s relationship: the baby misses jokaste very much but she’s been gone for a month for her work which includes traveling a lot. she and damen are friends still and the reason damen has full custody is bcs jokaste doesn’t want that responsibility yet and loves her job too much and all the opportunities and damen’s like, go live your dreams. my dream is this baby now. so u know?????? T-T

- okay back to the theme park, the whole day damen and laurent and baby ride the chill rides like teacup (half chill, laurent hates it so does the baby but damen is laughing the whole time. baby pukes on damen tho, not laurent. laurent laughs then.)

- then they ride the boat rides with the sceneries like storybook land. and laurent is pointing the cute little houses to the baby girl and telling all sorts of stories and damen is staring at them and taking pictures w/ laurent’s permission and the whole time damen is just thinking “wow i want to marry this man even tho i just met him”

- OF COURSE THERE IS A PARADE AND FIREWORKS!!!!! since damen and laurent and baby have already exhausted all the twelve rides they’re allowed in, they find a good spot and wait there for four hours because that’s how it is in disneyland if you want a good spot gotta reserve it early. that’s when damen and laurent Have A Conversation tho and Fall for each other HARDER !!! all the while laurent is putting the baby to sleep T-T

- damen, even tho it is unsafe and stupid, leaves the baby with laurent to grab them food. and he knows it’s crazy to just leave his baby with this man he’s only met today but like... he’s given laurent all his heart and trust already he knows his baby is safe with him. okay and also bcs theyre in his line of sight when he bought the food bcs you know i still want him to be rational lol

- anyway auguste and family join them later during the parade and gets introduced to damen and he gives laurent the Look because DAMEN IS LAURENT’S TYPE TOO OKAY and laurent is like shut up i am here for the baby but is he really hmm

- so the parade and fireworks start AND WHEN I TELL YOU THE WHOLE TIME DAMEN IS JUST WATCHING LAURENT AND HIS DAUGHTER INSTEAD OF THE SPECTACULAR SHOW BECAUSE FOR DAMEN THEY ARE THE VIEW !!!!!!!!!

- and that whole time the mulan scene is in damen’s mind you know the “do you want to stay for dinner/do you want to stay forever” yeah he’s fallen Bad

- the fireworks end, auguste and fam and laurent actually invite damen for dinner first and they all eat together. and the tired baby girl sleeps in laurent’s arms so it was easy for damen to take her back so they can go home with less tears. and this is when damen gets laurent’s number and asks him to a dinner. again. in the future.

- and laurent agrees. 

- this might be a two part series or three but this is all i have for now aaaahhhh

hope you like this. and i know maybe if i just started the draft now i wouldve been done already but LOL 

[fromthedeskoftheraven]

Visions of sugarplums

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x female reader

Content: Pining, workplace romance, fake dating if you squint, oh no we’re snowed in, mention of food, kissing, making out, mostly-non-explicit sex (under-18s, jog on), so many sweet pet names you’ll get cavities, romantic Jack because apparently I'm a sucker for that

Word count: ~4800 (yeah. Jack is a demanding muse)

Prompt: “Hoping one day you’ll make a dream last” (Let Her Go, Passenger), for @yespolkadotkitty‘s follower celebration writing challenge 🎉

Note: I said canon Whiskey who? This cowboy drinks respect women juice.

Part two: Kentucky welcome Part three: Just say you will

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A whirl of snow stings your cheek like a slap as you hurry through the grounds of the posh ski resort that sprawls across the valley, dotted with cozy cabins and million-dollar chalets.

Your sheer stockings, low-cut dress, and teetering heels are no match for snow bursts and the wind that cuts through you like a  knife. Inwardly cursing your alter ego and her penchant for skimpy fashions, you tug your thin coat more tightly around you.

This mission was supposed to be a piece of cake. A few days at a luxe resort, posing with your partner as an arms dealer and his girlfriend to get close to your target, and everything was going swimmingly...until your search of the target’s study during a cocktail party was interrupted by two of his security staff making their rounds ahead of schedule. The adrenaline rush of your narrow escape is still humming in your veins.

Beside you, long strides making quick work of the path, Jack Daniels has transformed himself from intelligence agent to wealthy gun runner with the world on a string. The cashmere overcoat that cost more than your first car is the perfect finishing touch to his sharp suit, and his dark good looks stand out even in the hazy moonlight.

Rounding the corner of a chalet, Jack slows his steps to a stroll. A strong arm pulls you flush against his side as he walks, letting an easy laugh float on the wind like you’ve said something witty. Before you have time to wonder what’s going on, another couple materializes in the pool of light from a lamp, squinting against the gusts that throw fresh powder into the air like confetti.

“Evening,” Jack says with a tip of his hat and a winning  smile, the very picture of a genial Southern gentleman. “This weather sure is pickin’ up, ain’t it?”

The couple mutter their agreement  and hurry on their way. Once they’re out of sight Jack’s hand slides to the small of your back, guiding you as you both quicken your strides again. Your teeth are chattering by the time the wind blows you onto the porch of your own cabin, and in a fumble of hands on the doorknob you step together into the blessed stillness of the spacious room.

A  cheerful whistle pierces the air and you turn to find Jack brushing snow off of his black Stetson and favoring you with a lopsided smirk. Even damp with melting snow he manages to be striking, all sultry eyes and dashing mustache and wayward strands of dark hair curling over his  forehead.

“Nothin’ like a little skirmish to get the blood pumping.” He carefully sets the hat on the fireplace mantel to dry. “I feel like...”

“...A tornado in a trailer park,” you finish with him, earning one of those wide, dimpled grins that always dazzles you a little in return.

“Just so,” he says.

“That’s another one in the ‘win’ column.” You try to suppress a shiver as you pull the flash drive that might as well be a smoking gun from the cleavage of your dress. “A few bumps in the road, but we got what we needed.”

Jack ignores the congratulations, stepping close to take your chilled hands between his large ones. His hands aren’t much warmer than yours, but the thrill that trickles down your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

The frown lines between his brows deepen. “Darlin’, you’re colder than a well-digger’s belt buckle. Go on and have yourself a hot shower while I get a fire started and check in with HQ.”

“I can wait, I’ll help you,” you offer.

He shakes his head, already moving toward the fireplace. “Don’t you worry, sugarplum, ol’ Jack’ll have this place snug in no time. You just get comfortable.”

Helpless against the lure of hot water and fuzzy socks, you rummage in your suitcase for a change of clothes. Still, you stop at the bathroom door to look back at Jack where he’s stacking logs with the same determination furrowing his brow as when he’s reviewing dossiers or cleaning his guns.

The two of you have been almost inseparable for the year that you’ve been working for the Statesman agency. Even your code name was assigned with your partnership in mind, a little inside joke Champ never gets tired of telling when he introduces the two best agents in the New York office: “...Because you can’t have a Manhattan without Whiskey and Vermouth!”

Jack comes on as strong as his namesake liquor, but you’ve seen the  steely nature under his flashy Southern charm, the practice behind the effortless shows of skill, the tender heart he hides with bravado.

And he has no idea you’ve fallen in love with him.

As though he can feel your gaze, Jack looks up, his stern expression relaxing. He gives you a wink and waves one hand to shoo you along before getting back to his task.

With a sheepish smile, you duck into the bathroom and turn on the shower before you can do something stupid.

Like asking him to join you.

***

"Mission report, Agent?”

Champ’s projection flickers into the armchair across from Jack, looking like some kind of Halloween effect with the flames dancing over the logs in the fireplace behind him.

“We’ve got all the intel we need.” Jack adjusts his glasses, stretching his legs out in front of him with a sigh. “Agents ready for pickup.”

“Glad to hear it. Where’s Vermouth?”

Jack glances toward the sound of running water. “She’s just showerin’ to warm up. We got caught in a snow flurry coming back to the cabin.”

“That so?” The ghost of a smile flits over Champ’s face. “I thought you’d want to be the one warmin’ her up.”

Jack’s not sure if he’s more annoyed by the teasing, or how quick he is to take the bait. “Champ, this ain’t a Fourth of July picnic. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m on a delicate mission with my partner.”

“Now, don’t get your feathers ruffled, son,” Champ says mildly, reaching for a highball glass. “You confided in me about your feelings, and I’m just givin’ you a little nudge of encouragement.”

“I did not confide in you.” Jack leans forward to jab a finger at the hazy image of his boss. “You tested Ginger’s new truth serum on me.”

Champ’s grin is distinctly unrepentant. “Well, you looked like a man who needed to get somethin’ off his chest. ‘Sides, I won twenty bucks from Tequila for being right.”

Jack only grunts, slumping on the couch again. “Your granny’s special mint julep recipe, my ass.”

“Jack, she’s a pretty girl. Smart as that whip of yours. You think you’ll be the only one to notice? Anybody can see Vermouth thinks the world of you, but one of these days she’ll be wearin’ another man’s ring if you don’t stop pussyfooting around and make good on all that flirtin’ you do.”

That idea settles in Jack’s stomach like a bad oyster.

Of course, Champ has a point.

You are pretty. No, scratch that...beautiful. You’re a hell of a good agent -- the quickest route to Jack’s bad side is to suggest otherwise -- but you’re so much more than that. Your sweetness and spirit are more than a man like him can hope to deserve, but damn if the way your eyes light up when you smile doesn’t thaw something long dormant in his chest.

If he’s been hell-bent on keeping things professional between you, his dreams are anything but. When he closes his eyes he sees you, soft and yearning and his. His to have and hold until he wakes up aching, with your phantom touch lingering on his skin.

He’s starting to forget why professionalism was so important to him in the first place.

“Champ, you got anything else related to this mission? Been a long day here.”

“Matter of fact, I do.” Thankfully, Champ has the grace to go along with the change of subject. “That storm’s kickin’ up too much snow to get a jet in there. You’ll have to hunker down and wait for a pickup in the morning.”

Well, if the universe wants to hand Jack another night in your company, who is he to argue?

“Copy that,” he says out loud. “We’ll await contact in the morning.”

Champ smiles. “Plenty of time for any long-overdue conversations you might want to have.”

“You’re startin’ to break up. Whiskey out.” Jack pulls off the glasses and tosses them unceremoniously onto the coffee table, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Sparing a glance at the darkening sky outside the window, he hauls himself off of the couch to put another log on the fire, trying not to think about how Champ just might be right.

***

When you emerge from the bathroom in a cloud of fragrant steam, Jack is lounging on the couch in front of a crackling fire. He’s traded the designer clothes for jeans and a faded button-down shirt and managed to tame his tousled hair. You know he takes pride in his trademark hat and bespoke suit jackets, but there’s something about him when he’s dressed down and softer around the edges that tugs at your heart.

He looks up when you come into the room, cheek dimpling with a smile. “Well, don’t you look like a new woman? Thought you were fixin’ to turn into an icicle on me for a minute, there.”

“Here’s hoping our next assignment involves sandy beaches and umbrella drinks.” You hug your sweater around yourself. “What’s the word from Champ?”

“Looks like we’re here for the night on account of this storm.”

As if on cue, a gust of wind rattles the windows, making you jump.

“Come and have a seat by the fire, sweetheart.” Jack picks something up from the coffee table and waves it at you. “Got a protein bar and some water for you. I don’t know about you, but a handful of damn canapes ain’t going to see me through to morning.”

“You sure know how to wine and dine a girl, cowboy,” you tease, dropping onto the couch.

His laugh is as good-natured as ever. “When we get back home, I’ll cook you the best steak you’ve ever had.”

“The best steak since the last one you cooked for me?"

“Well, a man should always be improvin’ his technique to keep a woman happy.” His dark eyes twinkle with mischief, and you roll your eyes but can’t quite smother a laugh.

The protein bar tastes something like chocolate-flavored chalk but you’re hungry enough to make quick work of it, washing it down with gulps of water. Jack nudges your shoulder and you find him offering his flask with a wry smile.

“’Fraid it’s all I've got in the way of dessert.”

The whiskey inside burns its way down your throat and mellows to spread its warm glow through your chest. With a sigh, you hand back the flask, watching Jack’s throat ripple with the swig he takes before reattaching it to his belt.

The liquor’s fire contrasts with the chill of the day in your bones, setting off a shiver that shudders through your shoulders and arms.

“Honey, you still cold?” Jack’s voice is rough-edged with weariness and whiskey.

“Well, I like a nice walk in the snow as much as the next girl, but I was half naked in that ridiculous outfit,” you say dryly.

One corner of his mouth quirks upward. There’s something unreadable in those fathomless eyes as he watches you for a moment before opening one arm, arching a brow in invitation.

Some tiny, winged creature takes up residence in your chest where your heart should be, and you immediately scold yourself. Jack’s your partner and your friend. Of course he has the decency not to want to see you miserable after a long, cold day.

So you tell yourself, even as you go to him, nestling into his side and letting his arm come around you to hold you close. His hand is relaxed on your shoulder, his thumb trailing back and forth in a gentle rhythm.

“Better?” he murmurs.

You feel like home, you think.

“Better.”

With Jack’s heartbeat steadfast and comforting under your palm, the last of your reserve dissolves. You tuck your head into the crook of his neck and melt into his warmth, breathe in his scent, musky and tinged with leather and sandalwood.

Quiet descends on the room, fleece-soft and a little sleepy, as you stare into the fire and let your mind wander. The hypnotic trace of Jack’s thumb over your shoulder is the only indication that he’s still awake.

You sneak a look at him. His eyes glitter black in the gathering dark and his profile is regal, carved into the stern dips and hollows of a Roman sculpture by the play of light and shadow from the fire.

He’s beautiful. You wonder if anyone’s ever told him.

“Jack?”

He hums in answer, almost the purr of a contented cat.

“Do you ever think about retiring?”

A soft snort of laughter rumbles against you. “You callin’ me old?”

“We both know I’d punch anyone who did,” you scold, giving his chest a playful swat. “I just mean...do you ever imagine doing something else? Something more peaceful?”

“Well, I’ve got a patch of land in Kentucky with a farmhouse. One day I suppose I’ll give up the apartment in the city and trade the Silver Pony in for a ridin’ mower.”

You frown. It’s a jarring reminder that after all this time, Jack still has his secrets. “You do?”

He nods. “It’s been in my family for generations, my granddaddy left it to me. Always thought I’d raise a family there. Houseful of kids, dogs, the whole nine yards,” he says ruefully.

He doesn’t have to tell you why he never did.

The tragic loss of Jack’s wife and unborn son is no secret in the agency, and you might know better than anyone about the hole they left in his life. It’s always broken your heart for him, but the idea of this family home that sits empty but for his ghosts makes it suddenly, achingly easy to imagine Jack building a cradle in the barn and reading bedtime stories and teaching little ones to ride their first horses.

“Maybe it’s not too late,” you offer. “You never know.”

He squeezes your shoulder for an instant, a silent recognition of your kindness, before going on with a breezy sigh. “What about you? You fixin’ to go plant yourself by a pool somewhere with a fancy drink in one hand and a book in the other?”

“What, and not get to play fake criminals at cocktail parties with you?” you scoff. “Not a chance.”

His smile is sharp and sweet as molasses. “Well, I'm always happy to escort the most beautiful woman in the room.”

There’s something so plain and sincere about the sentiment that you’re taken aback.

Jack throws around compliments like other people talk about the weather. But you know when he’s just greasing the wheels of conversation, filling the space between words...and this isn’t it.

Ignoring the rush of heat into your cheeks, you default to the safety of humor. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Agent Whiskey.”

The smirk, the laugh, the sly innuendo you’re expecting don’t come. He shifts to look at you, so close and so handsome it hurts, and the naked admiration in his eyes makes your breath catch in your throat.

“Ain’t flattery, sugarplum.” His thumb travels fleetingly to the bare skin of your neck above the collar of your sweater. “You’re as pretty as a Kentucky sunrise and twice as bright, and that’s the truth.”

“Jack, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me...that anyone’s ever said to me,” you blurt out, and mean it.

His dimple deepens, and a dash of his usual devilish charm flashes across his face. “Well, if we’re bein’ honest with each other, I must confess to thinkin’ lots of complimentary things about you.”

You can barely hear him over the hammering of your heart.

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawls. The flicker of his glance to your lips is so quick, you could almost miss it.

But you don’t.

Maybe it’s the whiskey, maybe it’s the wind wailing in the eaves, maybe it’s the thrill of almost being caught by the bad guys, but something prods you on, dares you to play with fire. Your hand shifts almost imperceptibly on his chest, letting the tip of one finger find the warm, tanned skin at the open neck of his shirt.

“And what are you thinking right now?”

Something hot and swaggering flares in his eyes and you know, you know he’s picked up your gauntlet.

“Well, sweetheart...” His hand moves from your shoulder, trailing lazily to the nape of your neck. He tilts his head to watch goosebumps erupt in the wake of his touch before turning that smoldering gaze on your face again. “Right now I’m wonderin’ what you’d say if I were to kiss that pretty mouth.”

“I’d probably ask what took you so long.”

You barely finish the sentence before his hands cradle your face and his lips are on yours, stealing your breath with their plush softness.

Nothing in your experience of lukewarm flirtations and flaky boyfriends has prepared you for Jack’s affections. He’s a force of nature, possessive and generous by turns, and his approving hum when you open for him and the hot slide of his tongue against yours have you clinging to him like you’ll drown if you let go.

It’s only when you’re nearly dizzy that you break away for air. “Jack,” you whisper, sinking a novel of emotions into one syllable.

His lips brush your forehead. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. My beautiful girl.”

“I’ve always been your girl, Jack.” You rest your forehead against his, closing your eyes against the glaring, shimmering audacity of the words. “I love you.”

The exhale that fans over your cheek is your name. Your real name, the one thing he almost never calls you. His hand is gentle, tilting your chin up. “Look at me.”

You gather the nerve to lift your eyes to his, only to find them soft. Happy.

“Honey, I love you.” His dimple makes an appearance with an apologetic smile. “Hell, I was smitten from the first handshake. But you were a new agent, and things were workin’ out so well, I never wanted to upset the applecart by tellin’ you so.”

Your laugh is breathless with relief. “Well, then,” you say, toying with the button that stands between you and his bare chest. “I guess we’ve got some lost time to make up for.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that.” With the agility of his training, he hooks one hand around the back of your knee and the other around your waist and moves you to straddle his lap. His big hands splay across your back to pull you snugly against him as he traces the line of your jaw with his nose. “Now where were we, darlin’?”

Your head is spinning with the nuzzling of his nose over your pulse point and the broad warmth of his chest pressed to yours and the growing hardness under the tight denim of his jeans.

“You were--” You break off in a gasp as his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your neck. “You were kissing me better than anyone else ever has.”

“Baby, I’m gonna make you forget about ever kissin’ anybody else.”

You don’t bother telling him you’re way ahead of him.

Jack’s hair is soft and thick when you weave your fingers into it like you’ve always wanted to, stroking where it hints at curling at the nape. When your hand slips under his collar to shape the strong column of  his neck, caress the vulnerable skin under his jaw where his pulse is thundering in time with yours, the low growl in his throat sends heat spiraling straight to your core.

He surges up to capture your mouth again, a hot, demanding crush of lips and tongues that makes you move restlessly against him, wanting more. He doesn’t miss it, and when he slides one hand to your lower back to press you even closer on his muscled thighs every nerve in your body lights up.

“I want you, Jack,” you plead between kisses. “Need you.”

His hands slide underneath your sweater and come to rest, warm and calloused, on the soft skin over your ribs. When you least expect it, he gentles the kiss into something almost chaste and when he pulls away, just enough to look into your face, his eyes have gone solemn.

“Tell me to stop, sweetheart. I will.”

You could burst with love for this man.

“I’ll strangle you with your own lasso if you do.”

Jack barks out a surprised laugh, lighting up with a grin before he goes in for another kiss. “Gonna take care of you, sweet girl.” His voice is silky against your lips. “Gonna give you everything you need.”

His hands move, bringing your sweater with them to whisk it over your head, and you feel the weight of his appreciative gaze roving over your bare skin and sheer bra.

“I can’t remember when I’ve seen anything so gorgeous.” His hands are back at your sides, fingertips teasing at the edges of the purple lace that leaves little to the imagination. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re blown dark and deep with desire. “And I reckon you’d look even prettier spread out for me on that big bed.”

That’s all it takes to have you scrambling to your feet, shimmying out of your leggings and socks as you cover the handful of steps to the luxurious bed that faces the fireplace. You reach for the clasp of your bra, but a click of Jack’s tongue halts your movement.

“Slow down, there, honey.” There’s a hint of command bleeding into his voice that you know well from missions, the sound of him giving orders and expecting them to be obeyed that always kindles a flame in you. “Let your man unwrap his gift.”

A blush warms your cheeks and trickles down your neck as you drop your hands to your sides and wait for him beside the bed, anticipation tingling in your limbs.

Jack has beautiful hands, as graceful as they are strong, but they’ve never been so mesmerizing as they are now, making quick work of his shirt’s buttons and carelessly shedding it to the floor.

You’ve seen him shirtless before -- it’s hardly avoidable when you spend most of your lives together -- but never like this. Never when you’re openly staring at his broad shoulders and lean waist and the smooth planes of his chest, all bronzed in the glow of firelight. And certainly never when he’s calling himself your man and looking at you like he’s starving and you’re his favorite meal.

His arms slide around your waist and the heated press of his skin against yours tears a soft whimper from your throat. He catches it with his mouth, blends it with his own hum of satisfaction in a searing kiss.

He keeps his lips on yours even as he eases you back onto the bed, laying you down on the fluffy comforter with his hand cradling the back of your head. He stands again for as long as it takes to shuck off his jeans and kick them away before he’s crawling over you, settling his warm weight over your body and into your welcoming arms. You’re so swept up in the kiss that reunites you that you barely notice the skillful flick of his fingers that frees you from your bra...until he bends his hot mouth to your breasts and lightning spikes through your veins.

“So perfect,” he praises against your tender skin. “So good for me.”

He’s perfect. Even more than you’ve imagined on the lonely nights when you give yourself over to fantasies just like this, of Jack pressing you into a mattress and murmuring sweet sentiments in that liquor-and-honey voice while his clever hands find you more than ready for him.

A whine escapes you when the cool air of the room suddenly replaces the heat of his body, leaving you bereft.

“Don’t you worry, honey.” Jack’s voice drops an octave, even as a smirk coaxes his dimple out of hiding. “I said I’d take care of you.”

Warm hands slide your panties down your legs and off, and he strips off his own boxers to come back to you in all his naked glory.

His strong biceps cage you in and his mouth finds yours again as your hands roam greedily over golden skin and taut muscles and the hot, hard length between you.

“Jack, you’re so beautiful,” you sigh, over his panting breaths into your neck. “I’ve wanted this. Wanted you, for so long.”

He raises his head to look at you, lush lips parted and eyes blazing. “Honey, you’ve got me. For as long as you’ll have me.”

He kisses you like he’s sealing a promise.

And then he’s inside you, like he belongs there. Maybe he always has.

Every surge of his body, every stroke of his hands, every gritted curse and word of praise pressed to your skin makes stars burst behind your eyelids, and when you’re clutching blindly at his back and keening his name like an incantation, his voice is a desperate rasp in your ear.

“Let go, sweetheart. I’ll catch you.”

You do. And he does.

And when he grips bruises into your thigh and shudders in your arms and buries a broken declaration of love in your hair, you know beyond a doubt there will never be anyone else.

***

If there’s a heaven, Jack’s pretty sure he's died and gone there to be lying in a cloud of down comforters with you tucked close to his side, head pillowed on his shoulder and legs tangled with his own. The bare skin of your back is petal-soft under his stroking fingers as he watches the firelight dance on the ceiling.

“I love you, Jack,” you murmur, and his heart swells too big for the prison bars of his ribs.

“I love you too, sweetheart.” He laces his fingers with yours on his chest, brings them to his lips. “You know, I dreamed about this,” he confesses.

You raise your head, resting your chin on his chest to look at him. “You did?”

“I did. Felt a little guilty about it, if I’m bein’ honest, but I don’t guess I could help it.”

“I won’t hold it against you.” Your eyes sparkle at him in the dim light. “Did I live up to your dreams?”

He smiles, sweeping a stray lock of hair away from your face. “Oh, honey, they couldn’t hold a candle to the real thing.”

You look pleased with that answer, nuzzling a kiss into his neck before settling your head on his shoulder again.

“I can’t wait to get you home,” he muses. “Have you in my own bed.”

He feels you smile against his skin. “As many nights as you want, cowboy.”

“Careful, there. I might take you at your word, you’ll go home and find movers at your place.”

You sigh out a laugh that’s music to his ears and draw idle shapes on his skin with your fingertips in the quiet.

“Jack,” you say again, soft as a peach blossom.

“Yeah, honey?”

“Will you take me to that farmhouse sometime?”

His greedy heart can already see you there, breathing life into the place.

You, perched on the kitchen counter, feet swinging in time with your chatter while he cooks for you. Sitting with him on the porch swing to watch the sunset splash its tapestry of pink and orange and lavender across the sky. Soft and sweet underneath him in the big cherry wood bed, greeting the pale glow of morning with sleepy eyes and kiss-swollen lips.

A backyard wedding.

Tiny, mewling cries in the night and your silhouette framed with moonlight from the picture window while you nurse a baby who has Jack’s eyes back to sleep.

The peace that washes over him is too good to be true, too hopeful for his battered heart, too honest for his life of compromises.

He closes his eyes, drinks it in anyway. Claims it. Squeezes you a little closer in his arms.

This is the dream that lasts.

“That’s a promise, sugarplum.”

[corysmiles]

A Story

Death is not fair.

She doesn't want to be unfair. Death loves each soul she helps move on, and wishes she could do anything to soothe their sorrows. Tears fall from her own eyes as she weeps along with those she has claimed.

Not all cry, however. Some souls simply accept what has become of them, and move on with a thankful nod to death. It was there time, after all.

Some souls seem eager to meet death, wanting to escape from the mortal world that bound, trapped, and harmed them. Many younger souls come to her seeking comfort.

But alas, even with meeting these souls it is only temporary. Death is alone. Life cannot meet her, as he is busy being with the souls he protects. Light and dark, always beside one another but never together.

Death does not wish to be alone. She see's the love between souls and wishes she too could have that very thing.

One day, a strange soul comes to her. It's a gentle soul, filled with creativity and joy. He is upset that he lost his place among the living, but he accepts his fate and faces death with a smile.

Intrigued, death does not send his soul to the afterlife right away. She's far too curious about this one to send him to his limbo for eternity.

Instead, they talk. Shrouded in the ethereal darkness, the soul explains his place in life with joy on his face. He had built cities with his bare hands, slayed mighty dragons, and made a hime for himself in a lonely world.

He too, had been alone as death had.

Death smiles, and decides she wishes to break the rules for this soul. She wants to see him live again.

With a gentle goodbye and a promise to see him again, Death returns this soul to Life.

For years she watches over the soul, watches him survive alone in the world set out for him. He builds his cities again with brilliant colors, slays dragons once more and even becomes king of the skies with wings stolen from the void.

But Death is getting lonely once again.

Years later while he is adding to his city, Death takes his soul again.

He is upset that the world he had not yet finished was taken from him, but he is not mad at Death. He could never be mad at her.

As an apology she offers life to the man once again, and Life sends him to a new world.

This gifted life did not last long. The void was angry that Death was twisting the rules and not sending this soul onwards as she should have been.

The void claimed the souls mortal body and sent him to meet Death for a third time.

He was met with tears to Deaths eyes, she had not wanted this for her beloved soul. And yet, he was not mad. Like every time before, he accepted that Death had taken him.

What a strange mortal this man was.

Death, as much as she had grown to love this soul above all others, wanted to see him live again. His soul deserved to live on and create.

So for the fourth time, he was sent back by Death.

Life had become familiar with his soul and did not mind that he kept returning. So in his fourth life, the soul was granted protection from the Void.

This world became a new home all over again for the mortal as he rebuilt his cities, slayed the dragon time and time again, learned to fly once more, and made a home for himself.

It was when Death saw the wings an idea came to her.

While the soul slept peacefully, Death visited his dreams and planted a soft kiss to his forehead. Her powers bled into him and changed his soul. The soft glowing green had streaks of red and gold slashed through it, signifying that his mortal state had been altered.

The man no longer needed for Death to return him to life, for she had made him her angel.

For millennia to come he would serve her in numerous worlds, assisting in sending lost souls to lady Death.

The first soul was on his own bloodline, in one world. Crows followed the man as he drive a sword through his kins chest, sending his broken soul to Death. The son was happy to see her, and went willingly to his limbo.

It was then that Death realized, so was no longer alone. While he did not frequent the afterlife, Death took on the form of a Raven and sat perched on the man's shoulder while he jumped between worlds.

She watched him live, she watched him die. She'd seen his smile and seen him cry. Death saw his truth, and death saw his lies.

But in the end, her Angel was always by her side.

-Zeetle

(hope u enjoyed my take on Philza and Kristen!)

OhhhhhhHHHHHYEAHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Zeetle I hope you know your writing is beautiful. I love your take on Kristen being death, it’s very sweet :”]

You are so pog 💛💛💛