#i want the good guy lover to live with the weight of his sins knowing he can never atone but he would make all the same choices again đ¤
babe would you still love me if we were superheroes and you were in danger and i went absolutely bonkers and crossed every moral boundary imaginable to protect you at literally any cost?
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Meliodas and Elizabeth's daughter hcs | Nanatsu no Taizai | Request
Request from: @the-letter-horror-lover
Warnings: mention of violence. TW: matches of violence.
You have this sunshine personality that all around you couldnât do anything more than love it.
But itâs not all good words and smiles, if they push you to your limits, they will know your bad side.
You are the only one in the family that could cook without breaking the kitchen.
And as you grow older, with the weight of the curse of your mum, you wanted to help your dad because you had the same curse as him and you knew how bad he feels when another dead and reborn comes. So you usually help him cooking at the Boar Hat.
And, doing that, you pass time with Ban.
He is a nice guy, but failed some time ago underestimating your power.
Now he has a 10 cm scar on his abdomen.
Eventhough you have this demon side, you are always kind and loving with humans and protect them of whatever enemy that comes.
You are friends with all the other Sins.
They like you. You are like smart and kind as your mother, but just as strong as your father and you have the willpower of, well, both of them.
 The nights that the Sins meet, you usually talk to Diane, she is so fun, you canât help it.
I donât know why, but I think Gowther talks about poetic stuff with you.
King lets you fly on his cushion and you normally fall asleep on it, so he just lets you there. He really canât help but let you, you are too adorable sleeping.
Merlin doesnât talk to you much, but you know you can always count on her. She demonstrates her affection more in a protective way.
But, yeah, when the others laugh along with things you did when child, she would laugh too.
But then, sheâll caress your shoulder a bit.
Hawk is like a little brother to you. Even if he is older, he is always making a mess, and you canât help but make it with him.
And your father doesn't have the heart to tell you to clean it.
Your mother, by the way⌠Well, letâs just say sometimes you had to take the cloth for other things than tinny wastes.
But the truth is that they love you a lot. And each of them will protect you with their lives without a second thought.
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hello! hereâs an idea for a headcanon âşď¸ how do you think tristamp!vash will deal with loving a fem!reader knowing that her life span is much shorter than him considering that she is a human? will he still pursue her anyway? or choose to keep distance & admire from afar to avoid further hurt?
Vash thinking on dating a human woman
Warnings: none, a bit of angst. It's not a fic, it's more my headcanons and thoughts on Vash's character.
I strongly feel that Vash will try to bury his feelings for human for as long as he can, but for two different reasons:
1. He's not done with the Knives issue. He still wants to save/eliminate his brother for him being a walking atomic bomb for the whole planet and it's Vash's primary mission in life. It's the sin he atones for and he cannot and will not have ANY human, especially the one he loves so dearly to be damaged by association.
2. Vash HATES himself, he loathes himself, he feels not deserving the love, not deserving anything good in this world, cause it's HIM and Knives are the reason of why the people crashed on this planet, why plants are being used off so wrongly, the reason of Rem's death, the reason of a lot of people's deaths. He doesn't have a grasp on the concept that he's not responsible for the actions of others. He caries the weight of his brother's sins as they are his, and while he thinks his morality of not killing anyone is just, he still carries the hate for himself for all the people who were hurt cause of his decision not to kill. Even Legato, the dude who wanted to be dead more than anything, recognised this feeling in Vash.
Sooo yeah, he's a terrible guy to love, or you just need to be a very good therapist to do so. But as for him being afraid for his lover being a mortal? Nah, Vash has seen so many deaths of the people who he cared for, he has seen the people growing up from smal lil beans to full ass grown up adults, so he recognizes the beauty of life and love and living while you can, so the possible heartbreak of his lover's death will not stop him from living and loving them freely. BUUT the previous two reasons will stop him.
Thanks for the ask!
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Chapter 22
Previous chapter || Next chapter || Masterlist
As he leans back in his leather office chair, cigarette smoke coming from his mouth as he takes a deep exhale of the stick full of nicotine he wonders how he got so deeply involved with you. At first, it was supposed to be nothing more than a way to piss Ran off. Something he enjoys doing daily. He would gain your friendship only to rub it in Ranâs face, then drop you. But then you ruined it, you had to go and make his heart throb. With your silly jokes, insults that hold no weight, and your loyalty.
Thatâs the oneâ Loyalty. You were so obviously in love with the eldest Haitani but for him, because of the promise you made, you refused to tell him who you were talking to. All becauseâ âI didnât want you to get hurt.â
Oh, how his heart sings at those words. Sanzu considers himself a loyal guy, especially to Mikey. He would rather die before he let anything happen to him, itâs hard to find that in others. Especially in potential lovers everybody lies, betraysâ Nobody knew loyalty anymore.
You have morals, a good head on your shoulders, your kind and compassionate. You were his better half. Who succumbed to Ranâs seduction.
Fuck.
This was never supposed to happen, you weren't supposed to be someone he craved. Especially since you feel so strongly for Ran, it's a losing game.
He pinches the bridge of his nose as he glares at his innocent paper work who had done nothing but exist. This was supposed to be finished before the afternoon meeting, however, heâll just give it to Kokonoi. After all, paperwork has never been Sanzuâs strong suit. Perhaps a drive will help him clear his mind.
As he prepares to leave he catches a glimpse of himself in his window. An overly large window that gives him the perfect look out of Tokyo. The blaring lights and sounds of honking cars were somehow therapeutic to him. He's different compared to Ran, he doesn't think of himself as ugly or anything that will damage his self confidence but, Ran is Ran and Sanzu wasn't him.
He sees his scars first, diamond shaped memories that were permanent on his skin. They were always his most unique feature, as a child he disliked his scars. Always covering them refusing to let anyone else see his biggest insecurity. He does wonder how you would react to them, would you think they were weird? Be afraid? His hand softly caresses one side of his cheek before looking down at his hands, hands full of blood and sins. He would feel wrong touching you with these, heâd taint you. Corrupt you. Ruin you for anybody that came after him.
Heâd make you cry, not on purpose but because thatâs what he does. He hurts people and for a living too. He's quite... Good at it.
His stomach growls randomly snapping him out of his daydreaming. He lets out a noise of annoyance before grabbing his keys from the desk. Sanzu heads to the parking garage where he holds his car, an all black Audi RS7 with heavily tinted windows. A gift from his eldest brother, Sanzu will never admit it but heâs grateful that his brother is in his life. He just wishes he couldâve had a better relationship with his sister as well. Driving around, looking for a place to get food to satisfy his dramatic stomach he comes across a 24-hour convenience store that just so happen to be in your neighborhood.
How does he know itâs in your neighborhood? Well, Ran asked him to find where you lived not to long ago and it kind of stuck with him. He didnât necessarily indeed to end up here but thereâs nothing he can do about it now. He supposed that heâs involved so deeply with you that subconsciously he seems you out. He parks by the sidewalk directly across the store, just before getting out he remembers to put on his mask.
As a wanted criminal you could never be too careful. As he gets out his car he waves his hand up to signal heâs crossing to ongoing cars.
As he came to open the door he felt something crash against his chestâ A body.
âOh god! I am so sorry sirââ The rambling was cut off when he felt the world stop around him, it was you. Your hair slightly messy in your pajamas with fluffy slippers. A slight blush ran across your face, clearly nervous and embarrassed.
âSir?â You questioned as you looked up at him with your doe eyes that seemed to glisten in the early morning light. He felt the time stop as he saw you. He wasn't expecting to see you face to face, not nowâ Shit. He's glad he wore his mask.
âDonât worry about it.â He flashes you a smile with his eyes before opening the door. âLadies first.â You send him a small thank you, barely audible but he could tell by the way your lips moved, too shy to raise your voice. He did feel like a stalker, watching you through the cracks of the shelves. He wished you knew who he was, that you would call him name out like you had during the call. He felt his heart kick up in pace as you examined the ingredients on items you potentially wanted to buy.
So, you liked cookies and cream ice cream? He personally enjoyed mint chocolate chip but he wouldnât mind trying your personal favorite. He grabbed items at random, not focusing on what heâs buyingâ just you.
After making his way to the register and placing his items on the counter, from the corner of his eye he saw you creep up from behind him. Feet shuffling as you held your items against your chest, your eyes looked down at your shoes refusing to acknowledge him. Which proven to be difficult, he stuck out like a wolf amongst sheep, bright pink hair, expensive suit that costs more than youâve ever seen, and a mask that covered half his face. Sanzu looked behind him, his eyes smiled at you as he snatched the items from your hand.
âOh, and these as well.â Â Before you could protest he had shushed you and purchased everything. All you could do was stand still, star struck essentially. Surprised and extremely confused. Once he bought the items he handed them to you, including the items he had bought for himself. A ruffle to your head as you stared at him with a still face. He grabbed your hand that was frozen in place, he took the hook of the plastic bag and placing it on your hand more towards your fingers. He had to fight the urge to chuckle when he saw you struggle to speak. He waved goodbye leaving you there, confused. Just before leaving the store you had your head down, staring back at the ground before slightly yelling âThank you sir!â
He turns back, pulling down his mask just enough for you to see his mouth and shined a smile your way. Your heart flustered at the sight of it, how kind his smile seemed. You shared his kindness by smiling back. Wide and cheerfulâ Now it was his turn to be star struck. He felt his ears heat up as the blood rushed to the tip, he quickly covered his face and left the store, preventing himself from snatching you up right then and there. His heart throbbed so fast he thought he was going to have a heart attack, his head spin as he couldnât get the thought of you out of his head. With the slam if his car door he clenched his expensive suit, right over his heart as he hunched over. Head against the steering wheel as he squeeze the fabric in his hand. If this is how he dies, he wouldnât mind it.
Now he sees why Ran chose you.
Taglist (open!) @beidouluvr @axlongchamp @rinrinfoxy @konigasaki @yeehawnana @bontensucker @q-the-rockaholic @paulmccartneysleftasscheek @st4rryhae @m4yam0 @red-clouds @kusuinko @ikissbaal @haitanihime @bajitorasprincess @lagrimasdeglitter @snowyseungs @bontensbabygirl @piracyandatiny @kris-1 @tirzamisu @yeagerqq @averageslt @haitanis-sugarbaby @graceb4boys @justanotherantisocialteenager99 @kawasbaby @minimalisticstyle @hayami-17 @azzy-ar @gulfkfl @talakaissi @asra-x @ihateuguys @queen-flower @wack0-genius @halcyondaisy @crybabylisa @loonashadow @bxnten @voldyshit-1997 @sugusshi @Killumiii @hiidenchihu @rindous-wife @vcperoqs @moontofuu @chosoisbaby @talesofjerryandjack @shutupandkissmealready @icrytoopracom @sayonaratoyou @kazuhanmas @denkis-slut @rizakari (Let me know if I didn't tag you! Bold = can not be tagged. Second taglist in comments âđż)
Psst- This story belongs to me, please do not post anywhere else without permission first. That's illegal âď¸ Reposts are okay
Starting next update, those who can not be tagged will be removed
I know I missed yesterday's updateđ
Don't hold me to it but y'all might get a double upload as an apology
Don't hold me to it though đđ¨
Anyways I saw Dune yesterday and it was so good?
Zendaya is as pretty as always
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The Only Living Thing
Billy Russo x Female Reader
Warnings: Language.
Synopsis: Youâve been friends with BIlly Russo for as long as you can remember. Then, on that one night in New York, feelings get mixed up with the liquor that burns and everything spins out of control. So much for being the only living thing that Billy Russo has ever cared about... Or is it?Â
A/N: This just sort of happened. I may be writing more if you guys want, I think I can definitely take this further? I have a pretty hectic schedule but I might make it happen x
Song : Adam French - The Only Living Thing
New York, November 2019. â¨Â
Breathtaking. â¨
You are breathtaking, like the most beautiful view from atop the mountain or his biggest fear coming alive under his stare. â¨
Youâre a mix of excitement and terror, and you are enchanting enough to keep him on the tips of his toes, second-guessing everything, his every decision and every word...Â
You are meant to leave him wanting more.
The night New York has never looked so good on a woman before.
Billyâs vision goes blurry for a second, his stomach hot and heavy.
You are glowing.
You radiate a kind of a warm sepia glow, so beautiful and genuine and so fucking effortlessy...
Smooth and unapologetic.⨠â¨
Messy strands of hair framing your face, your blushing cheeks, as you laugh your heart out, throwing your head back. Your pearl teeth flash in the dimness of the bar. Your thin black tights are torn at the thighs, your lips are red and irritated as you sink your teeth in, again and again.
Your laugh is flamboyant, intoxicating. Raw.
You are something else...
When suddenly, you see him, your black eyelashes fluttering as you wink at him. Billyâs chest feels too wide, too fragile and too hot. Do you see those unspoken words shining out of his drunken eyes?
When you make your way to him through the crowd, heâs paralyzed, afraid to move forward, afraid to scare you off, but mostly, afraid to let everyone see how desperate he is for your touch.
This is wrong, so fucking wrong, but why in hell when you come over, throwing your elegant arms around his neck, your cute perky nose touching his chest - it feels so. fucking. right?! Like you were custom-made for each other?...
Before he can stop himself, he slides an arm around your waist. You say something to him, something funny, for everyone around him snorts and chuckles, but his mind, his entire world - suddenly comes down to that spot just below his cheekbone where you plant a soft peck of your velvet pouty lips.
âThose twenty bucks we bet on? I win,â you half laugh, half exhale in his ear, your lips brushing against the lobe. âMadani is fucking obsessed with youâ.
âAh,â Billy smiles, both of his hands snaking around your waist now as he looks down at you.
...And I am fucking obsessed with us.
âAnd you just enjoy rubbing us - this! in her face right now, arenât you?â he mutters instead, his temples buzzing with the gin and tonic he has been downing all night.Â
God, he hopes youâre too buzzed to have noticed his slip of fucking epic proportions.
He promised himself he wouldnât drink, not with you still around - because whatever it was that he felt for you mixed with liquid that burned equaled a very bad outcome.Â
He might be well into the tipsy territory by now but Billy isnât delusional. The chances that you would go back to his place or even kiss him back are entirely too slim.
Because friends donât do friends.
Friends might as well become a new f-word for all Billy cares at this point.
When you throw your head back in an explosive laugh, Billyâs distracted. He gets an extensive view of your elegant neck, your delicate collarbones, but mostly - of the swell of your mouthwatering breasts, as your black silk top tightens over them.Â
Fuuuuck him.
âFuck you, Russoâ, you echo his thoughts somehow as you wink at him once youâve restored your breath, not stepping away from his embrace, however, letting him keep his hands on you.Â
Itâs always like this between the two of you. Youâve known each other for a while now - four, five years? After Billy bumped into you at a brunch at Liebermansâ and spilled his frappuccino all over your gorgeous rack. He wasnât even going to come - but boy, was he glad he did - even though you wasted no time opening that sassy mouth of yours and verbally eviscerating him.
This wasnât a love at first sight. â¨
For you, at least.
âAt least buy me a dinner first,â Billy barely manages, his vision a tad blurry.
He notices you giving him an unimpressed stare. Feeling stupid all at once, Billy blinks quickly and lets go of your waist...
Only to tremble on his feet and almost fall on his face.
âHeyyy,â he registers your breath on his cheek before he hears what youâre saying, your small hands holding him in place. Your touch burns through the fabric of his button down shirt as your palms slide up his sides to his shoulders. âYou okay there, Russo?â
Billy squirms, chomping on his bottom lip as he grabs you by your elbows.
ââM fineâ, he says quietly, but doesnât let go. When he lowers his stare to meet your eyes, he almost wants to cry. Thereâs concern in their bottomless depths, worry for him and desire to make it all better. He just wishes there was more heat there, and less of that f-word that ends with -riends.
âYou donât look fine, lover,â you retort, wiggling and pushing and pulling onto him until youâre snug under his arms and carrying his dead weight to the exit. âLetâs go get some fresh air, come on.â
Billy utters something half-heartedly, his head feeling like itâs filled with cotton. He didnât even drink that much, as least he doesnât think so. Must be your fucking intoxicating perfume, sweet but voluptuous and so fucking tempting...
Pure sin. â¨
Even drunk out of his fucking mind, heâs still the envy of every guy at that bar because heâs with a stunning, breathtaking, prettiest woman in the whole damn world that is you.
âIf you were able to stand right now, that line might have gotten you laid,â you inform him with a laugh, basically carrying him to the exit on your shoulders.
Through the drunken haze, Billy realises he might have spoken those words out loud, but the terror is quickly replaced by...
âAre you shitting me?â He slurs, trying to stay vertical. âAre you saying you want me?â
By the time the words escape his mouth, you have pushed the exit door wide open and nudged him to step out. Losing his balance, Billy crashes into Frank, Stein and Madani, smoking outside.â¨
Dinaâs eyes flash mischievously as you step out of the bar, immediately throwing your arms around Billy protectively, helping him to steady himself.
âOh, so itâs common knowledge now, then?â Dina ventures, licking her lips bloodthirstily, her eyes never quitting yours. âYouâve finally admitted you want to drag that fine Caspian ass in your bed?â
The running joke aimed at Billy looking like a Disney prince feels out of place; all conversation is silenced out as you narrow your eyes at Madani, your grip around Billyâs waist instantly becoming tighter. Frank clears his throat in an attempt to defuse the awkwardness, but doesnât intervene.
And Billy is... well, happy. Over the moon, actually, and still drunk off his ass.
Apparently, you have been wanting to drag his ass into your bed for a while now!
That does mean you see him more than a friend, right?Â
What if... What if all this time you were just as hung up on him as he was on you, but neither of you had the balls to say anything?
In his picture perfect drunken world, Madani makes sense and his heart sings.
You want him.
If it were a Disney cartoon, animals would be singing and dancing around praising your couple.Â
Frankie would have probably made a sick unicorn.
âOh Dinaâ, suddenly your voice cuts right through Billyâs happy fantasy, and thereâs way too much sass in that voice for it to belong to a Disney princess. âJust because your friend Sam here and your own desperate fan-girling ass carry a boner for some fucked up teenage fantasy that involves boinking Prince Caspian, doesnât mean all women have that same one-track mind. Some of us can actually look past a dick and see a friend. So why donât you lay off that Cosmopolitan and fuck off, vodka-cranberry sure ainât making you brighterâ.
Billy frowns, deep lines creasing his forehead.
Frank snorts with laughter, not even bothering to conceal his reaction. ⨠⨠You hold Dinaâs hateful stare.
âWhatever, bitchâ the latter one finally utters, throwing her cigarette away. âI never fucking liked you. Maybe after this your little fanboy here will see you for what you really are - a fucking coward and a tosserâ, Billyâs stares at her in disbelief, his mind still foggy. Madaniâs dark eyes flash dangerously in his direction. âOf all women, Russo... Karma is a bitch, isnât she? Your little princess here only loves herself, lover. Get out while you fucking canâ.
Smashing her shoulder into yours, Madani goes back into the bar, leaving equally dreary and awkward silence behind.
âWhat the fuck was that all about?â Frank isnât laughing anymore as he folds his hands on his chest, giving you a questioning eye.Â
You roll your eyes dismissively.Â
âWell, sheâs obviously shit-faced,â you shrug, sliding your hands off of Billy. âWhat, youâre surprised she hates me?â
Itâs a whole another world there, in Billyâs head. Have you just distanced yourself from him after what Madani said? What, you thought heâs so drunk he wouldnât fucking notice?
â...so just because I have basic restraint and actually appreciate a man as a friend, Iâm a damaged bitch with a twisted sense of humour? Look, I donât know, Frankâ, you rub your eyes tiredly with the back of your hand.
âI do,â Billy suddenly chimes in hoarsely, his eyes bloodshot and dark, darker than usual, as they narrow at you. âKnow. I know.â Billy stutters, then takes a deep breath. âThatâs all I am to you then, sweetheart? A friend?â
Billy wavers a bit as he speaks, but his words are deadly. Your eyes pop wide open at his words, like Russo has just grown a penis on his forehead. Frankâs mouth forms a silent O.
And just like that, the tension is back.
âWell, of course you are my friend,â you say slowly, stretching out your hand in an attempt to grasp Billyâs wrist. Your eyes are searching his face, but heâs locked, like a goddamn prison cell. âYouâre my friend and I love youâ.
Wrong answer, if Billyâs expression is anything to judge by as he recoils from your touch. His face is a mix of disappointment and anger, his lips a thin line as he turns away.
âFucking idiot,â he mutters under his breath as he turns on his heels and makes a tentative step towards the bar. Only his body is ruled by gin and whatever shit he chased it with, so his feet get mixed up together. Billy trips over his own shoes.Â
âHey, easy there, tigerâ, Frank, whoâs been standing closer, grips Billy by his arm to help him keep his balance. âWhatâs gotten into you, man?â
Billy chuckles, throwing his head back, and that has got to be the most bitter sound you have ever heard. You shudder involuntary, watching Russo like a hawk.
âI would have given you the fucking world, you know that?â Billy stares you dead in the eye, grabbing the door handle in front of him. âYou just keep fucking with my head like a fucking sadist, and I live by the shit you give me!â you blanch as Billy goes on with the program, hurt dripping from his mouth. âMust have always thought that should be some spectacular pussy youâve been packing, totally worth all your shitâ.
âBill!â Frank calls him out sharply, his expression terrified.Â
But the damage is done. â¨
Your eyes are brimming with tears, but you stay silent, unblinking. Your chest seems a little caved-in, but you hold your chin high as your trembling lips start to move.
âFuck you, Russoâ, you spit, âFuck you, friendâ.
The next thing he knows, Billy explodes in a fit of bitter laughter - even though all he wants to do is fucking cry.
This just goes to fucking show thereâs no such thing as Disney fairytale in real life, is there?
âOh donât worry, friend, somebody will,â he promises you, swinging the door to the bar wide open. âGonna go help Madani fulfil her teenage fantasy. While you can stay here, think about us fucking like rabbits and feel better about yourselfâ.
With those words thrown over his shoulder, he steps into the crowded bar, the sound of the door shutting behind him sounding final.Â
Plot twist. Curtain falls.
Frank canât even venture a look at you - he doesnât even hear you breathing.
âHeâs just piss off drunk, thatâs it. He doesnât mean it,â Castle attempts to do some damage control, even though he knows that that ship has most definitely sailed.
âThanks, Frank,â he hears you say quietly, and as he raises his eyes, he catches the sight of you wiping your cheeks quickly.
You inhale slowly, closing your eyes and fisting your hands.
âTell Karen and the guys I wasnât feeling so hot, okay?â you ask, and thereâs definitely pleading in your voice.
You never plead.
Before Frank can ever mutter anything about Karen having his head if he lets you walk away at night all alone, you wave at him dismissively.Â
âIâll see youâ, you say as you collect your hair in a ponytail and walk off, your silhouette soon lost in the bustling New York night.
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Sins of Lovers - Colby Brock | Part One
Title: Sins of Lovers â Part One
Pairing: Colby Brock x Reader
Summary: Y/n has had a crush on Colby since middle school and now itâs ten years later when he comes back into her life. Heâs back in the most unexpected way and the most unexpected of things happens between the two of them.
Word Count: 4.8 k
Warnings: Cheating parents, divorce, bullying, horrible parenting, moody Colby.Â
This is an old fic that I think fits Colby. Enjoy.
MASTERLIST
********
Colby Brock. A guy that had been your crush since eighth grade, when heâd moved to town. There was something about him that called you back to him time and time again. He was a kind soul with a passion for life. He was someone you felt you could get along with.
But his whole attitude changed when the two of you started high school. He quickly became cold and rude. Quickly climbing the social ladder to join ranks with the most popular students in the school. These were the same people who bullied you and your friends.
It should have ended your crush on him, but it didnât. The crush only seemed to grow as you watched him from afar. You would catch glimpses of the old him from time to time, which gave you hope that he was still in there.
Sophomore year, his attitude worsened, and he grew meaner to the people around him. News got around that his parents had divorced because his dad had been having an affair behind his motherâs back. It was also known she left town and now he was stuck with his father. He began to join in on the bullying, proving his new standing in school. During this time, you still watched him and searched for glimpses of the old Colby. They were becoming far and few.
Junior year, he started dating Paige Marcus, the IT girl of the school. All the boys wanted her and most of the girls wanted to be her. She was your personal tormentor and she had been for years. Sheâd taken a dislike to you in fourth grade, when you got the lead in the class play that year. That girl hated you more than anyone thought was possible.
It was a real heartbreak the first time youâd seen Colby and Paige walking hand in hand down the hallway. Your smile had faded, and you wanted to just cry. All over a boy who had never taken a notice to you. Especially because you were just some nerdy girl and he was now popular.
One day, you had been late to school, so you had to rush to get to class. As you ran through the hallway to get to class in time. You ran into Colby, literally. You collided hard with his built form, falling onto your ass.
Colby just simply looked down at you and laughed. âYou should watch where youâre going, nerd.â He growled when anger flashed through his eyes.
Paige was hanging on his arm and glaring at you, as per usual. âYeah loser, you really should watch where youâre going. My boyfriend didnât need to be inconvenienced by you.â What was she? Colbyâs parrot?
Paige laughed and kicked my books across the hallway. Colby laughed along with her, and pain flashed through my chest. âThere better not be a next time.â He grumbled before stepping over you and walking away with Paige beside him.
Tears welled up in your eyes, misting up your glasses. You had been so embarrassed that day. Youâd hoped it would end your crush on him, but it didnât.
Senior year, Paige set out to personally destroy you at every chance she got. Colby was by her side each time, laughing along with her. That year was absolute hell for you. There was no escape from Paigeâs wrath.
The worst day nearly broke you.
It was the middle of January and it had just snowed, making the town a frosty wasteland. There was a fire drill shortly after third period began and everyone was ushered out to the cold.
You stood with your class minding your own business when Paige approached you, dragging you from the other students. Youâd struggled against her, not knowing why she had pulled you away.
âWhat do you want?â You asked while her nails dug into your arm.
âJust teaching you a lesson.â She said as you stopped next to a huge frozen snow bank.
âWhy do you have to do this to me, Paige?â You questioned when she stole your glasses from your face. âNo, give those back.â You attempted to reach for them, but the blurriness had taken over. As you were about to grab them, she threw them to her friend, Cassie. So you moved to get them from her, but she was keeping you from being able to retrieve them.
âGive me my glasses!â Your voice was loud because you were angry the snickering bitches had stolen them from you.
Suddenly, Cassie dropped them to the ground and stepped on them. A crunch could be heard as she ruined your chance for clear vision.
âOops, my bad.â Cassie spoke while she continued to wreck your glasses.
âStop! Why are you doing this?â Tears had begun to gather in your already blurry eyes.
âOh look, we have a cry baby on our hands.â Paige taunted before pushing you towards the ground.
Your left hand went out to catch you, making contact with the frozen ground before your body weight came crashing down onto it. A sharp pain shot through your wrist, making you cry out as the pain hit. Paige and Cassie were just cracking up the whole time.
The world was blurry around you as you lifted your hand from the ground. Pain radiated through your arm, starting from your wrist.
âWhat are you guys doing?â A familiar voice cut through the two girlsâ laughter. It was Colby and you were afraid he was here to join in on the torture.
âOh baby, we were just teaching Y/n a lesson.â Paige answered in a supposedly sweet voice, but anyone could hear the venom hidden in her words.
âBy breaking her glasses and hurting her?â He suddenly sounded mad.
âItâs just a joke.â Paige tried to sound like it wasnât as big problem.
âHurting people isnât a joke, Paige!â He was yelling now. Then he was beside you, bending down to your level. âAre you okay, Y/n?â You couldnât really see him all that clearly, but you could tell he was looking at the wrist you were clutching to your chest.
âNo, it hurts a lot.â You whimpered as the pain continued to shoot through your arm.
âOkay, letâs get you to the nurse.â He was gentle as he helped you up from the ground.
âWhy are you helping her?â Paige was now frustrated.
âShe needs help.â He stated as he bent down to pick up your broken glasses from the ground.
âSheâs not one of us, Colby, just leave her alone.â
âNo, get out of the way.â He pushed by her and Cassie while leading you towards the school. The fire drill was over at this point.
It was quiet between the two of you as he led you through the hallway full of students who were headed back to class.
âThank you for helping me.â You said to Colby, in a soft voice.
âDonât mention it. Paige is a bitch a she needs to be put in her place.â He spoke as you walked into the nurses office. Once again, you had seen a glimpse of the old Colby which only proved to you that he was still in there.
You ended up having to go to the hospital, much to your mothers dismay. It was a serious inconvenience for her to leave work to take you to the hospital. She practically yelled the whole drive there. Your broken glasses were another yelling point for her. At the hospital, it was determined your wrist had been broken, which only angered her further. Not that any of it had been your fault, but she claimed youâd been the one to evoke the girls in the first place. Your mother and you werenât particularly close.
After that incident, Paige and Colby had called it quits and Paige blamed you, of course. The rest of your senior year was pure hell for you, thanks to Paige and her friends.
You were more than happy to get away from there, luckily. You had received a scholarship to a college three hours away and your fatherâs house was twenty minutes from it, so you stayed with him. College was lonely for you, though. Because you werenât all that great at making new friends and your father was always away for work, or on vacation with his new wife. A wife who didnât like you much either.
Throughout it all, your crush on Colby never once faded. You didnât know if it ever would.
****
10 years from the time you first began to like Colby, you were returning back to your motherâs house. Youâd graduated from college and found a job close to her place, and thankfully she was letting you come back. You promised yourself you wouldnât be there long before you found a place for yourself. You couldnât help but to feel nervous about being back at her home. It would bring back memories of high school and Colby, but you highly doubted that he still lived in town.
You pulled into your motherâs driveway, staring at the sage green house in front of you. Youâd grown up in this house. Your father had once lived in this house with you. The house held so many memories for you. Good and bad.
Sighing, you finally got out of the car and grabbed your bags from the back. You slowly made your way to the front door and let yourself into the house. Immediately, the aroma of cooking food filled your nostrils. Odd. Your mother hated to cook. You put your bags by the stairs and went to the kitchen. You found your mother standing in front of the stove wearing a blue dress. She never wore dresses.
âHi mom.â You said getting her attention.
She turned around with a huge smile. âHello honey. How was the drive back?â She had abandoned the stove to pull you into a hug.
âThe drive was fine. What are you dressed up for?â
âOh honey, Iâm so excited. Iâve been seeing this man for a few months now and Iâve invited him and his son to dinner to welcome you home.â
This surprised you. Your mother had never successfully dated since your father left her.
âYes okay, wow. Congrats mom. I look forward to meeting them.â You honestly were.
âI think you will like him, and his son is about your age and just a sweet young man.â
âWell Iâm happy for you.â
âThank you baby. You should go get settled in. They will be here in about an hour.â She then sent you off towards the stairs. The person you were just talking to was definitely not the person she was before you left for college. You purposely didnât come home to visit all that often because you were afraid of who you would come home to.
After a quick shower, you sat at your counter to do your makeup. You were happy that you no longer had to wear glasses, because two years ago, your dad had gifted you laser surgery as a sorry for never being around. He still wasnât around after that though, but you learned to expect that from him. After he left, you werenât really much of a thought in his head.
You decided on a nice purple dress of yours and a pair of flat black booties for your feet and left your room. When you were halfway down the stairs, the doorbell went off.
âY/n, could you get that?â Your mother asked from the kitchen.
âYes.â You said, stopping in front of the door.
You flung open the door, instantly panicking as you saw who was on the other side. Colby Brock beside an older man, that must be his father. Your mom was dating his dad.
âHello, come on in.â You moved out of the way so they could enter the house. Colbyâs eyes were glued to you, which sent chills through your body. Oh god, tonight was going to be hell.
Your mother exited the kitchen and pulled Colbyâs dad into a kiss. You grimaced and turned away from the scene. âY/n sweetie, I want you to meet John Brock and his son Colby.â She introduced the men to you.
âI went to high school with Colby.â Colby was way hotter than you remember him being. He was sexy, tall, and muscular. He had this really sexy dyed blue hair upon his head. The man was perfect.
âOh really? Do you remember her being so clumsy in high school? Her senior year, she broke both her glasses and wrist all in one day.â Your motherâs words made you blush in pure embarrassment.
âIf I remember correctly, Y/n had her glasses stolen before she was pushed into a snowbank. So it wasnât her fault.â Colby defended you, shocking you.
âOh, looks like you had a friend in high school, Y/n.â You face grew red now.
âI think dinner is done. Iâm going to go set the table.â You quickly dismissed yourself and ran off to the kitchen to grab the plates and silverware. You desperately hoped your mom wasnât going to keep embarrassing you throughout dinner.
You were setting up the plates when your mother entered the room, followed by Colby and his father. You idly wondered if Colby had a girlfriend. Â He had to have a girlfriend with how sexy he was.
âThank you, Y/n. Can you grab the food for us?â She questioned while already being seated next to John.
âIâll help you.â Colby said while following you into the kitchen. âHow are you doing, Y/n?â He questioned.
You pulled the food from the oven and set it on the stove. âIâm alright. Not too thrilled to be back at my moms, but itâs okay.â
âI know what you mean. Living with my dad is hard. But I havenât seen him much since heâs been seeing your mom.â
You began to put the other food into bowls for the two of you to carry. âHow long have they been dating?â Your mother never said a length of time, only that she was dating someone.
âIâm not too sure, but I know itâs been over six months.â
âShe kept it a secret from me.â You concluded. To be honest, it hurt that she kept something that big from you.
âMy dad is the same, but heâs been that way all my life. I found out about his affair from someone at school. So that should tell you everything you need to know.â
That was rough. âIâm sorry, Colby.â
He just shrugged. âIâm over it now.â But you didnât know if he was, but you werenât going to push him.
The both of you carried the food into the dining room, where your mom and his dad were deep in conversation. The two of them looked up when you entered the room. You placed the food onto the table and took your seats, which happened to be right next to each other. Your mom and his dad were on one side and you and Colby were on the other.
You were still in shock that your crush was right here in front of you. You were double shocked that your mom was dating his dad. How in the world did that happen?
âItâs good to have you home, Y/n.â Your mom said as you started to plate the food.
âThanks mom. Itâs good to be home.â You didnât know how truthful she was being though because the two of you havenât gotten along for all of your life. Sheâs blamed you for your dad leaving and treated you like crap for it.
Dinner went on like that, with idle conversation and moments of silence. Truth be told, it was awkward as hell. You kept stealing glances at Colby, to find him pushing his food around before he would glance your way as well. You would always look away while a light blush appeared on your face.
âAlright kids, now that we have finished dinner, we wanted to talk to you about something.â John said once all the plates had been cleared.
âSure.â Colby said, while you just nodded.
âWe wanted to take a family vacation, so we can get to know each otherâs family. So we booked a vacation to Boca Raton for a week.â Your mom said catching the two of you off guard.
âOh, okay. But you know I have a job to start, right?â You stated.
âYes sweetie, I know your job doesnât start until next month and we leave in two days.â
âGreat.â Colbyâs voice was void of emotions. Like you, he wasnât thrilled about your parents attempts to mesh the families together.
âYou donât sound too thrilled about this, Colby.â John noticed.
âIâm not. Iâm being forced to get to know your new girlfriend and her daughter when I would rather not be involved. Itâs not going to go anywhere, just liked the rest of them. You will probably cheat again.â
His words were harsh, but you could definitely see where he was coming from. But you couldnât help but feel he had a dislike for you simply because your mom was dating his dad.
âThatâs where you are wrong. I love Susanne and we are going to make this work whether you like it or not.â John was defensive against his moody son.
âWhatever you say. Are we finished here? I have somewhere to be.â He pushed his chair from the table and got up.
âIâm sorry, Sue, I donât know where he got the attitude from. I promise he will be better on the trip.â You just rolled my eyes and stood up and started gathering the empty plates. Your mother followed John and Colby out while you started to clean up.
You were washing the dishes, when your mother entered the kitchen behind you.
âSo Y/n, did you like John?â She questioned while you glanced over at her.
âI donât know him enough to know whether I do or not.â You said truthfully.
âWell you should like him. He makes me happy and Iâm in love with him.â
A sick feeling formed in your stomach.
âHow long have you two been dating?â You needed to know how long she kept it a secret from you.
âTen months.â
âYou kept it a secret from me for 10 months!â You raised your voice as the anger took over. You put the sponge down and turned to face her.
âYes, we didnât talk much, and I didnât think it was that big of a thing to keep from you. Besides, you were busy with college and whatever else you were doing at your fathers, I didnât want to bother you.â
Her excuse was pure bullshit to you. âSave the shitty excuse and admit you didnât think about telling me.â You growled turning away from her.
âWhat? No honey, why would you think that. Youâre my daughter and you mean a lot to me.â
Once again you faced her, âI mean a lot to you? Thatâs a fucking lie. You blamed me all my life for my father leaving you, but you didnât stop to think about that fact that he left me too. You made my life hell because you werenât happy with yours. What kind of mother does that?â
She just laughed it off. âYouâre overexaggerating it. Now finish the dishes, Iâm going to relax.â Before you could say another word, she was out the door.
****
Two days later, you were sitting in an airport, with Colby beside you and both your parents in some seats across from you. Both of you were equally unhappy to be here, while both parents acted like lovebirds. It was honestly gross to watch.
âHoly fuck, do they ever stop.â You groaned, taking your eyes away from them.
âNope, they are constantly all over each other.â Colby stated looking down at his phone. âYou seem angry.â He noticed.
âI am.â You grumbled, thinking about the conversation you had with your mother the other day. Like always, she managed to make you feel like shit instead of acknowledging her wrong doings.
âWhat did she do?â His focus was now strictly on you.
âShe didnât think telling me about her new boyfriend was important. She practically admitted to forgetting I existed once I was out of the house. Growing up with her as my mother was hell and she has never once apologized for the shit she did to me. For years, she blamed me for her and my fathers divorce. I was 4 when they divorced.â You said making sure your voice was low, so she wouldnât hear it.
Colby was silent for a little while. âThatâs horrible. What kind of mother blames their child for a divorce?â
âMine apparently. Now she wants to suddenly act like it didnât happen.â
âWell I think thatâs bullshit. I can see right through them, you know. They are just using each other for company. My father has never been able to be faithful, every woman he has dated were all just an excuse to have some fun. He also resents my mom for moving on from him and marrying someone whose better to her.â
âThatâs fucked.â
âYouâre telling me. My father is immune to commitment.â
âWe have some fucked up parents.â He nodded and sent a glare to both your parents who were giggling to themselves.
The flight was called shortly after that, so the two of you followed your parents onto the plane. Colby and you were going to be sitting next to complete strangers, while your parents snuggled up together. It was not fun. Your flight was annoying, because the middle-aged man beside you kept checking you out and trying to talk to you, despite you politely telling him you werenât interested in conversing. It was complete hell.
Arriving in Boca Raton was a godsend because you couldnât stand being next to this guy anymore. The last half hour of the flight, he spent it trying to guess your name and persuade your number out of you. You were seconds away from punching him, but luckily the plane landed, and you were able to get out of there quickly. Colby sent you a look as you exited the plane, you just grumbled under your breath.
âWell that flight was wonderful, wasnât it kids?â Your mother asked as John waited for the luggage to come around.
âFuck no. That was the worst flight I have ever taken.â You said, holding your anger back.
âOh sweetie, lighten up. Weâre on vacation.â Her words sparked even more anger.
âThe old guy next to me kept hitting on me and wouldnât shut the fuck up the whole flight.â
âWatch your language.â Was all she said before she strolled up to stand beside John.
Colby just chuckled from beside you. You sent him a glare and walked away from the group. You didnât want to be here with them. You didnât want to spend a whole week with your mom and her boyfriend that you knew nothing about. You didnât want to spend the whole week pining over Colby when you knew he would never like you the way you liked him. He and you were still in completely different circles and he liked his women blonde and gorgeous. You were anything but that. Okay maybe youâre pretty, but you still thought of yourself as the nerd from high school and you didnât doubt he did as well.
John and your mother ushered all of you to a rental car, and you were off to the hotel. Colby and you were in the back, silently sitting beside each other. He was on his phone, probably talking to a girlfriend or something.
âOh, I almost forgot. John upgraded his and Iâs room to a suite, but you and Colby will be sharing a regular room.â Your mother said with a huge smile on her face.
âThatâs great.â Colby grumbled from beside you, voicing your thoughts out loud.
âDonât sound so sad. It will be good for you to get to know each other.â John stated sternly, showing authority over Colby.
âSure, whatever.â Colby said under his breath. you hid your smirk from his words. He nudged your side when he saw that.
You were nervous as hell now. You would be sharing a room with Colby. The man youâve had a crush on for nearly 10 years. This was going to be one hell of an experience; you were sure of it.
The car pulled up to the hotel, which was this huge building that looked like it had been here for a while. It was beautiful and right on the beach as well. It was surely a resort and perhaps it wouldnât be a horrible place to stay. But your nerves were still on edge about this whole vacation. Your moms attachment to Colbyâs dad scared you.
Colby and you were given the keycards to the room before your parents left both of you alone to fend for yourselves. Honestly, their behavior was disgusting to you.
âLetâs get to our room I guess.â Colby grumbled, picking up his suitcase and heading towards the elevators in the opposite direction of where our parents had gone. You quickly grabbed yours and followed after him.
The two of you stepped into a gold-plated elevator and he hit the eighth floor, where your room was located. You felt like he was resenting you, because he would have to spend the whole week with you.
âIâm sorry that you have to stay with me.â You mumbled as the elevator moved up floor by floor.
The angry scowl left his face as he glanced towards you. âNo, I donât mind staying with you. Iâm mad at our parents for just springing all of this onto us last minute.â
You let out a sigh of relief when he said this. You really thought he hated you or something.
âOh, I thought you hated me.â You admitted while looking towards the carpeted floor of the elevator.
âI donât hate you, Y/n. I havenât ever really hated you, even when I was dating Paige.â His words surprised you.
âReally? Then why was I treated like crap when you dated her?â There was no way he didnât hate you then.
âBecause Paige was always a huge bitch and blackmailed me into treating you that way.â
âOh, well itâs okay then.â
He shook his head. âItâs not okay at all really. I should have never done some of the things I have done. But I was horrible in high school after my parentsâ divorce.â
âWell itâs good to know you didnât and donât hate me. Also, donât blame yourself for the way you acted as a result of the divorce. It was traumatic to you and you only did what helped you feel better.â
âI guess so. I wish I could take so much back.â
âThatâs impossible, but you can continue to be a better person from now into the future.â It wasnât good that he was beating himself up over the past.
He sent you a kind smile. âYouâre right. Thank you for that, Y/n.â
You sent him a smile as well. âNo problem. Now, should we get this vacation started?â You questioned as the two of you stopped in front of the door to the room.
Colby opened the door and the two of you entered the room. It was a surprisingly nice room for it being a regular room. There was two queen sized beds, covered in crème sheets and comfy looking pillows. There was a decently sized sitting area with a nice flat screen TV. The bathroom was gorgeous, with a huge, jetted tub and a beautiful walk-in shower. The best part was the private balcony we had that overlooked the beautiful blue ocean. Staying here wasnât going to be so bad.
âThis is way nicer than I expected.â He spoke your thoughts.
âYes, I agree. But this is an upscale hotel.â You stated as you set your bags down on one of the two beds. The beds looked so comfy, you wanted to just take a nap at the moment.
âTrue.â He answered when his phone went off. He was silent as he checked it. âOur parents want us to meet up in the Lobby at 7 for dinner.â His voice was flat when he mentioned the parents.
âOh great. Well, that means thereâs time for a nap.â You moved your bags from the bed and pulled your shoes off. You pulled back the covers and got into the comfy bed. Your body was in bliss the minute you laid down on the bed. It was absolutely perfect. Your eyes grew heavy as soon as your head hit the pillow. The nap was much needed.
PART TWO >>
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Chapter 8
Let me know if you wanna get tagged when I post new chapters in âThese Streets Are Made For Walkingâ. @sleepysnails.
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Itâs the next Wednesday when the Foster Bitch climbed the stairs up to Technoâs room. Knocking on the doorframe twice, she entered without waiting for an answer.
âTommy hasnât been to school all week, and the school called about unexcused absences.â She frowned at him. âYou share a room with him, and donât you drive him to school? Where is he?â
Techno threw his earbuds on his bedside table. âNo idea Maâam. I havenât seen him since you sent him to pick me up from the station last Thursday. He woke up early and took the bus. I figured he was mad at me and at Tubboâs. Dreamâs been suspended for the incident, so I couldnât exactly ask him.â
âDonât you have his number?â she asked in an accusatory tone.
âYes. But you confiscated his phone two weeks ago.â
âOh.â She seemed to be taken aback for a second. âShouldnât you have Dreamâs?â
âThatâs for work. Like I said, I thought Tommy was at Tubboâs. I didnât think anything was wrong.â
âMr. Richmon is in the kitchen.â
Ranbooâs dad. âOh fuck.â Techno rolled out of his bed. He honestly would rather stay on his phone, but she was clearly offloading this on him, and Techno was going to make sure Tommy still had friends. Going to Ranbooâs was the best dinner Tommy ever gets. He doesnât eat that much when heâs over, because heâll just vomit it up, but the leftovers he takes back last the two of them a good week. Tommy may not want to be a bother and use up their resources, but Techno knows that he thinks of those leftovers as paying Techno back for everything he does.
Techno rushed down the stairs, jumping two at a time. The old stairs creaked as his feet hit their tops, the planks bending under his weight. In a moment of hesitation Techno stopped suddenly, sliding a little on his socks. He took a moment to collect himself, before making his way into the kitchen.
âMr. Richmon,â greeted the Foster Bitch appearing next to him. âThis is Techno, heâs probably the closest person to your son as Tommy hasnât been around lately.â
âWeâve crossed paths,â Techno said, straightening his tee-shirt collar.
âParent teacher interviews, was it?â Mr. Richmon asked, sending a little glare to the Foster Bitch and offering Techno his hand.
His grip was firm, but Technoâs was comparable. âWhat brings you here?â
âI havenât seen my son since Friday.â
âOh.â
âIâve been calling him in absent for a prolonged family issue, but I am well aware of the company he keeps.â Mr. Richmon kept his tone light, but the accusation is heard loud and clear as he pulls out a chair for himself.
Techno tips his head in understanding. âHis friends arenât that bad,â he defends. âBut I understand your concern with Tubbo and Purpledâs brothers.â
Mr. Richmon gestures to Techno, âAnd Tommyâs.â
âIâm not Tommyâs brother. This is a group home. We arenât related,â he dismissed immediately. âThe other guys are blood though.â
Both the Foster Bitch and Mr. Richmon gave him weird looks at his comment.
Techno took them in stride. So what? He knows heâs lying to himself more than heâs trying to convince them. âI can ask Dream and Punz if they know anything,â Techno suggested. âI assume you donât want to be seen with them?â
Mr. Richmon nodded. âOf course not. This place is dingy enough.â
The Foster Bitch looks affronted, but Techno shushed her with a look. âIâll try to find your son, but might I recommend going to the police.â
âThe less the police know the better,â Mr. Richmon said like it was a mantra of his.
Techno nodded, already trying to figure out how he was going to deal with this. He was the getaway driver who did his homework. Sure he knew a few things, but he didnât have any street skills. He remembered the purple hoodie at the gas station; he might have wanted to stay oblivious, but he knew who he saw.
Techno and Mr. Richmon left the house at the same time. They got into their respective cars and they drove in opposite directions. Techno headed to Punzâs place--might as well check if they were there. Techno honestly doesnât know why he had Punzâs key on his lanyard, but due to it he didnât bother needing to knock.
âTechnoâs here!â he shouted; canât ever be too careful at the mercenaryâs house. He doesnât hear anything back, and since anyone who could possibly be here would shout back in greeting, he assumed that the place was empty. But it doesnât hurt to check around.
The thing about Punz and his profession is that he had to keep tabs on his targets, and the way he practiced and kept his skills sharp was by keeping tabs on his close associates. Therefore, he normally knows when people plan to stop by.
Techno walked into the living room and found a sticky note on the family computer. âInitiation collateral. Alive,â he reads.
Techno moved the mouse and the screen opened up to an article on one of the dark web sites. âNew Las Nevadas Member: Merc. Punzâs Baby Bro.â He quickly scrolled down to the cover photo: open white van doors with Purpled and Tommy grappling on the ground, Ranboo and Tubbo nowhere to be seen. âShit.â
As he skims the article he pulls out his phone and calls Dream.
He picked up on the second ring. âHello?â
âTommyâs for sure not sleeping at your place is he?â he asked, concern evident in his voice.
âFor sure? Is everything okay?â
âNo. Is Tommy there?â Techno pressed.
âNo, and Tubbo hasnât checked in with me for a while.â
âShit. Shit. Shit.â Techno lifted his shoulder, trapping the phone there so that both of his hands were free. He scrolled back up to see the picture again, confirmation that it was, in fact, real. He let out an unsteady breath, and shook out his hands.
âWhy? What happened?â Dreamâs voice picked up anxiously. âDid you hear something?â
âYeah. So did Punz.â Techno took a deep breath. âDid he tell you anything?â
âI havenât spoken to Punz in about a month,â Dream said.
âMr. Richmon came by the home asking for his son.â
âThe kids arenât at Ranbooâs?â Dream asked, concern hardening his tone.
âNope. Purpledâs on the news. The way that youâre on the news.â
The line was silent. âFuck.â The sound of something breaking echoed down the line. âThatâs. Bad.â
âHope its ransom.â
There was a rustle on Dreamâs end of the line, as if he was moving something. âFuck. Iâll look into it. What did Purp get into?â
âLas Nevadas.â
âFuck. Purpled. Why? What did Mr. Richmon say?â
âThat Ranboo was missing and that he came to me because you and Punz live in too much of a shithole for him to visit.â
âI donât live in a shithole!â
âThis place is dingy enough, were his exact words.â
âOuch.â
Itâs been a week. Tubbo, Ranboo, and Tommy were thrown into the same room. Itâs objectively a nice room, but a prison is still a prison no matter how lavish the cell. The beds were really comfortable, but it was barren besides them.
They donât see Purpled again, instead Fundy Soot is the one to bring them their three meals a day. Youâd think that one could never get sick of pizza, but eventually--especially with the mood so sour--there comes a breaking point.
âDid someone order a meat-lovers?â The door opens and Fundy is inside the room with three cardboard plates, two slices on each. âYour dinner is here.â
âShut the fuck up,â Tommy said digging into his slices.
âNo, I donât think I will.â Fundy smiles vindictively. Sue him, he hates babysitting duty. âWhoâs gonna shut me up? Your brother?â he asks, looking at Tubbo. âThat little amateur couldnât do anything. Petty thieving is the highest form of sin you know?â Fundy said like he was reciting something.
âShut the fuck up,â Tommy repeated, noticing how Tubbo froze.
âYou too? Whatâs your brother going to do? Heâs just the fucking getaway driver. He canât help you. Big Brother Techno Blade isnât as strong as you think he is, little Tommy.â
âShut the fuck up!â Tommy shouted. âTechno may be friends with Dream, but heâs not doing that shit.â
âDidnât you pick him up from the station? Youâre lying to yourself. You know that Techno is in with Dream.â
âNo heâs not! And donât you have something better to do with your time? College or some shit?â
Fundy chuckled humourlessly. âThe faster you eat, the faster Iâm out of your room.â
Tommy glared and shoved a whole slice into his mouth.
âNo oneâs coming to save you,â he taunted.
âShut up.â
âDonât speak with your mouth full. We sent the ransom video,â he said moving onwards. âInstead Mr. Richmon hired Techno and Dream for free. Seems Daddy doesnât care about his son enough to save you immediately.â
Thatâs the point that Tubbo broke. Tubbo could take a verbal bashing; Tommy would be pissed if he attacked on his behalf; but Ranboo? Ranboo was the most innocent here and didnât need familial jabs.
Tubbo lurched from his bed and swung at Fundy Soot, sending him down to the floor. âWhere the fuck is your big brother? He fucking failed you if you had to get dragged in the life style to survive.â Tubbo punched Fundy again after he was down. âWhere is he huh? At least my brother managed to keep me out of this shit.â
Tommy rushes over to pull Tubbo back. âShh. Shh. We canât afford this. He's top dog here.â
Fundy laid on the floor, arms out and protecting his face.
âWeâre done eating,â Tommy growls. âGet out.â
Ranboo, thoroughly shaken, picks up the plates and puts them in Fundyâs hands, standing in between the two groups so Fundy couldnât retaliate. If any of them needed to come out of this looking pretty itâs him: the rich boy.
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Born this way with Alex
Iâm sorry this took me a few days but thank you so much for the prompt! Also, this did not mean to be so long. Oops. Anyways. Hope you enjoy :)
Warning: Mentions of past homophobia.Â
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                    Born This Way
                         ______
Alex was wandering in the hallways of Los Feliz HIgh School after supporting Julie on her first performance in her music class without them. The rest of the band had performed with her at her school a couple of more times after their first time for pep rallies and dances. The principal tried to book them as much as she could to show that the new breakout band, Julie and The Phantoms, who were now starting to perform at big venues, like the Orpheum, were discovered at her school. He always couldnât help but be amused by that.Â
For a big part of her final grade for her semester, Julie had to perform by herself. Reggie had been confused as to why she was nervous of singing solo in her high school class when she had already sung solo in the Orpheum of all places. But Alex understood. Not only did he have anxiety about practically everything, but doing things that had a lot of emotional weight to them even when you seemed to be getting passed them could be very nerve-wracking. And even though all three of them had the urge to perform with her, they knew that they couldnât and that sheâd completely kill it anyways. Which she did, of course.
After the class was over, Julie had her free period. But, instead of spending it with the boys and Flynn, she and Luke wanted some âaloneâ time together. Meanwhile, Flynn had a marketing team meeting for the band, which now had at least eight members from the school and a lot more clamoring for the chance to be a part of it. And Reggie was so excited and happy for Julie that he couldn't help but want to tell Ray right away. And unlike before, Julieâs dad could now see them and respond back to him.
Whatever Julie did to save their souls from being obliterated into existence, not only made her be able to touch them all, but made them able to show themselves to lifers without just performing with her. Usually they had to be with Julie in order for lifers to see them, but if they had a bond with a lifer, like the guys did with Flynn and Julieâs family, then they could see them without Julie. But they still didnât show themselves to lifers very much.
Alex especially didnât.
He wanted to focus more on trying to figure just how this was all possible. He and Willie came up with different theories, but nothing too concrete yet.
Besides, he kinda liked being invisible. He could be his full self and still be in front of lifers without worrying about what they were thinking about him. Like Willie had mentioned that day at the museum, being a drummer had not only helped him with his anxieties and frustrations, but helped him feel confident and be his full self in front of an entire crowd of people. And being a ghost gave him that same freedom, they just couldnât see him. And he was okay with that, for the most part.
It actually sorta liberated him in a way.
Alex could do whatever he wanted in front of someone and he didnât have to worry about their responses. Like that time when he danced on stage with Carrie. He had felt so free, like he could do whatever he wanted and just be. Of course his band could see him when he did it. And even though he just knew Julie for a short time, he knew he didnât have to worry about her and the guys judging him or seeing him differently.
Like his family had.
Even after apparently 25 years of being dead, it still was only less than a year for Alex when he came out to his family. And they never treated him the same since. He used to remind himself that he was lucky. They didnât say anything demeaning to him and kicked him out or anything like that. Heck, they even still let Sunset Curve have their studio in the back of the house.
But they still acted differently toward him after that fateful night.
In retrospect, he supposed that having the guys there as support for him mightâve not been the best approach, especially the way his parents had looked at him and Luke sitting next to each other. But Alex didnât care, because he knew that he wouldnât have done it without the band. Maybe he would have later on, but given the fact that just six months later he would die of an oldsmobile street dog, who knows if he wouldâve gotten another chance.
And Alex was glad that he did it when he did.
Of course it stung when his parents would treat him so...differently. It was sometimes hard to even explain it. Sometimes theyâd give him these strange looks whenever they didnât think that he was looking. Like he was this weird alien living in their house, and not the son that they had raised and loved for seventeen years. And they also stopped inviting him to places and family outings, even assuming that he wouldnât want to go to church anymore. And even when he wanted to, they heavily implied that they didnât want him to go, always using the excuse, âDonât you want to practice more with your band?â
However, as he and the guys would always say, it was on them and not him for thinking anything of him any less than the same boy they knew who was anxious about everything and allergic to nuts. It wasnât his fault that they had seen him differently just because they found out that he liked boys instead of girls.
Besides, he had his real family now.
And even though he was...you know...dead, after everything he and the band went through, Alex was happy.
And as far as ghosts went, he had a pretty sweet deal. Unlike most ghosts, he could still connect with lifers, and in the best way too. That connection heâd feel with the audience while heâd rock out on his drums as he and the band would play the best musical experiences? Priceless. But he also just liked being a ghost in general. He could be in a crowd of lifers and do what he wanted, not having to worry about their judgments or what theyâd think of him. He also liked to watch people and make faces or do silly dances in front of them because he could. As he said earlier, there was a sort of freedom in all of it.
However, there was that part deep down inside of him that felt like part of the reason why he liked being invisible was because that way lifers couldnât disappoint him by not appreciating who he was whenever he wasnât rocking out.
Alex immediately pushed those thoughts away and continued to People Watch as he wandered the hallways some more. It really was a cool thing to be a ghost and see people during moments where they normally werenât seen.
Suddenly, he heard music with a great pop beat start to play from one of the rooms ahead. Curiosity taking over, he poofed in front of the door, and saw that it was the dance room that Julie and Flynn had talked about before. It was empty except for one person in the middle of the giant space seeming to be dancing in freestyle.
It didnât take long for Alex to realize that the person was Carrie, Julieâs ex-best friend turned enemy turned back to sorta friend now? He was a little confused and fuzzy on the details. All he knew was that her and Julie and Flynn seemed to be, or at least on their way of becoming, good with each other again. She also found out about the Phantoms being...well actual phantoms, but to everyoneâs surprise, she promised not to say anything.
Especially considering who her dad was.
Carrie couldnât see them without Julie being in the same room, so she didnât notice Alexâs arrival. Instead she danced to the infectious beat that he couldnât help but move his feet a bit to.
She then started to sing along to the voice of the song coming from her phone.
My mama told me when I was young
"We are all born superstars"
She rolled my hair and put my lipstick on
In the glass of her boudoir
From his spot near the door, his legs and arms started to move with the music as well.
"There's nothing wrong with loving who you are"
She said, "'Cause he made you perfect, babe"
He stopped for a moment, struck by the lyrics.
"So hold your head up, girl, and you'll go far
Listen to me when I say"
The beat then started to get a little faster, making him start to move his body again, this time faster and more of actual dancing. Carrie then began to sing louder.
I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way
Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself, and you're set
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way (Born this way)
A strange sensation formed within him as he danced to the rhythm and listened to the lyrics. It was mostly like the feelings heâd get when he found a new favorite song or jammed to an old favorite. But this. This felt slightly...different in a way. But a great different. One that made his feet and entire body move with the music, as he danced further into the room.
Don't be a drag, just be a queen, Carrie sang putting one hand on her hip and the other in the air, similar to how she did in her previous performances.
Don't be a drag, just be a queen
Alex mimed her movement, feeling completely consumed by the song.
Don't be a drag, just be a queen
Don't be (Don't be, don't be)
The tempo then slowed just a bit, probably going to the next verse, he figured.
Give yourself prudence and love your friends
Subway kid, rejoice your truth
In the religion of the insecure
I must be myself, respect my youth
A different lover is not a sin
Believe capital H-I-M, hey, hey, hey
I love my life, I love this record and
Mi amore vole fe yah (Same DNA)
Tears formed in his eyes at the words, feeling like the song was talking directly to him, considering what he was just thinking about with his parents. Alex then lifted his hands up in the air, completely feeling the moment. He continued to dance like no one was watching - and literally no one was.
I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
Alex had started to sing along with Carrie and the beautiful voice on her phone, closing his eyes and completely letting the magic of the music consume him.
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way
Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself, and you're set
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way (Born this way)
Suddenly a loud shriek made Alex quickly open his eyes. Carrie was looking him straight in the eye through the mirror, one hand on her heart and one on her hip, anger seeming to simmer out of her.
âHey, Casper, you canât just sneak up on a girl like that!â She exclaimed with a hiss before rushing to get her phone that was in front of the mirror along with her bag. She then turned the music off, making Alex instantly miss it.
He put his hands up in surrender. âSorry! I didnât think you could see me!â
Carrie looked at him again and placed both of her hands on her hips this time, sending a deathly glare at him. âOh. So you were just being a creeper who didnât think you would get caught, is that?â
âNo, no no!â Alex quickly replied, shaking his head and hands frantically. âIt wasnât anything like that, I swear! Trust me.â
She seemed to study him for a moment before giving him an expectant look. âThen what was it like?â
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets and then shyly told her, âI watched Julieâs performance during music class and was just wandering the halls when I heard the song you were playing.â
Her eyes immediately perked at that as a smile spread her face. âYou like Gaga?â
He gave her a confused look, though the name sounded vaguely familiar. âWhatâs a âGagaâ?â He asked, using air quotes for the last word.
Carrie stared at him in disbelief. âYou donât know who Lady Gaga is? Sheâs an icon!â
âIs she some kind of royal who sings killer pop songs?â
She seemed to think about it for a moment before nodding. âWell basically yes. Just not in the kind of royal youâre thinking of. A much more important one.â
âSo sheâs like pop royalty?â He asked.
âAbsolutely.â She then pursed her lips. âIâm actually kinda surprised that Julie or Flynn hasnât introduced you to her yet. They both love her almost as much as I do.â
Alex thought about it for a moment. âActually, come to think of it, I think they mentioned her before but I was too afraid to ask what in the world a gaga was.â
Carrie shrugged. âWell now you know.â
An awkward silence passed between them.
âSoâŚâ she began to say, breaking the silence first, âthat was your first time hearing Born This Way or Gaga in general, right?â
He nodded.
âDid you like it?â
âIt was amazing! I havenât felt so connected to a song that wasnât our bandâs in quite a while.â He felt himself start to get a little emotional thinking about the lyrics and just the song in general, and how it made him feel. It was always an amazing thing when a song could touch your soul like that. Especially when it played right when you needed it.
Carrie smiled, seeming to have a knowing glint in her eye. âYeah. Gaga can do that to you.â
âYeah.â He smiled back. âI guess I was feeling it so much while singing and dancing to it along with you that it made you able to see me.â
âDamn.â She began to say in awe. âI knew Lady Gaga was powerful, but wow.â
Her saying that reminded him of the first song he heard her sing. âHey, that reminds me. I like that song that you sang at that pep rally before our band sang for the first time. The one where you said âWowâ a lot.â
Her eyes lit up again at that. âYou mean âWowâ?â
âYeah! And I like all of the other ones Dirty Candy sang too.â He then placed his hand around his cheek like he was telling her a secret. âBut All Eyes On Me is my personal favorite.â
âYou like my music?â She asked, pleasantly surprised.
âAbsolutely! They always bring my inner âDancing Queenâ out, as what my friends like to call it.â
She let out a small laugh. âThank you.â Carrie smiled brightly at him. âYou know, Gaga is one of my many influences. I listen to her as a warm up every time to help get me inspiration for my new song or choreo.â
âThatâs so cool.â
âWanna dance to her some more?â
He gave her a bright smile and nodded so vehemently that he thought his head was going to pop up. âYes please!â
She clasped her hands together. âGreat! Then I can give you a list of her songs that you have to check out first. Got it?â
âGot it.â
Carrie then went back to her phone and played where the song left off.
Ooh, there ain't no other way
Baby, I was born this way
Baby, I was born this way (Born this way)
They sang and danced with all the energy they had.
Ooh, there ain't no other way
Baby, I was born this way
Right track, baby
They both then sang at the top of their lungs, âI was born this way!â
***
A couple hours later, Alex met up with Willie, having a giant pep in his step and gave his boyfriend a giant smile that was even wider than usual.
âHey, Hotdog! Someone seems more chipper than usual.â
Alex waved a casually dismissive hand, âOh itâs nothing.â
He felt a little insecure about telling Willie about his latest music discovery and how much it helped him. Even though he knew that his boyfriend not only knew how much music meant to him, but would never demean things that made him happy.
âIt doesnât seem like nothing. What is it?â Willie asked, giving him a soft and encouraging smile.
âOh, itâs just that I found this new song and artist.â Alex shyly began to say.
His boyfriendâs smile grew. âYeah?â
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets and began to kick the air in front of him. âHave you heard of Lady Gaga?â
Willie laughed, âYeah Iâve heard of Gaga.â Instant fear shot up within Alex. âSheâs great, right?â
The fear dissipated and turned into a sense of relief. He didnât know why it mattered to him so much if Willie liked this Lady Gaga person. Hell, there were artists and songs that Willie liked that Alex didnât and vice versa. And it was the same with his band, although theyâd often end up having good-natured arguments about it. So why was this any different?
Alex nodded. âYeah. I really like her songs Iâve heard so far.â
He gave him another encouraging smile. âYeah, which ones?â
âWell, I like all of them. But Born This Way was the first one I heard and itâs my favorite.â
Willieâs smile brightened. âYeah, mine too.â He then placed his hand on top of Alexâs. âHere follow me.â
Confused as to what was happening, Alex followed Willie, hands firmly intact, as they headed further down the boardwalk. They then stopped at more of a private part of the beach that seemed to be having some sort of event. Â
âI heard that someone was having a wedding tonight and I wanted to take you.â
âA-a wedding? Why-why would you want to-to take m-me to a wed-wedding?â Alex stammered and mentally scolded himself for acting like such an idiot.
Willie chuckled. âRelax, Hotdog. I love going to weddings as a ghost.â
âTo skate?â
âI do skate, yeah. But I go because I love to see all of the different kinds of people that attend and the drama that no one sees. But mostly I like to see what kind of music they have.â He waggled his brow mischievously. âAnd if itâs a DJ or DJ system I like to mess with the lifers and put on random songs to see everyoneâs reactions.â
It was Alexâs turn to chuckle. âThat actually sounds really fun.â
Willyâs smile brightened even more. âI thought you would think so. Thatâs why I brought you here.â He squeezed his hand three times, making Alexâs ghost heart skip a beat. âLetâs go!â He then pulled Alex with him further into the wedding reception.
They stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, where there were a few lifers slow dancing. Alex gulped, waiting for them to slow dance as well. Willie then pointed to the DJ setup and snapped his hand. Suddenly the beat of a song that Alex may or may not have listened to at least three times that day, started to fill the speakers.
Alex felt his lips spread into a giant smile once more and laughed when he noticed the shocked reactions on the weddingâs patrons' faces from the sudden song change.
âThought you might like that.â Willy announced proudly, giving him a soft look.
They then noticed how the patrons were now starting to dance to the song, making even more people coming up to the dance floor.
Alex was the first to start dancing, WIlly immediately following right after.
There were some moments where they danced next to each other, and other where their hands would collide and theyâd do different moves like swinging each other around. Sometimes they would go through the lifers or dance around them. But all the while they were singing at the top of their lungs as well.
Don't be a drag, just be a queen
Whether you're broke or evergreen
You're black, white, beige, cholo descent
You're Lebanese, you're orient
Whether life's disabilities
Left you outcast, bullied, or teased
Rejoice and love yourself today
Dancing next to each other again, they both then turned to one another, grabbed the otherâs hands, and softly sang, â'Cause baby, you were born this wayâ
They then went back to belting it out at the top of their lungs.
No matter gay, straight, or bi
Lesbian, transgender life
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born to survive
No matter black, white, or beige
Chola or orient made
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born to be brave!
Alex shouted the last part as loud as he could, throwing an arm in the air.
I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way
Don't hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself, and you're set
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way, yeah
They continued to dance and sing, having the time of their ghost lives.
Once the song was getting to the end, the two boys latched their hands together and started to sing the rest to each other.
Ooh, there ain't no other way
Baby, I was born this way
Baby, I was born this way (Born this way)
Ooh, there ain't no other way
Baby, I was born this way
Right track, baby
I was born this way
I was born this way, hey
I was born this way, hey
I'm on the right track, baby
I was born this way
They then leaned closer to each other for the last part.
I was born this way, hey
I was born this way, hey
I'm on the right track, baby
They sang softly to each other, their lips only a few inches apart.
âI was born this way, hey!â
And then their lips collided, their giant smiles remaining.
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Songs that make me think of a relationship with the Obey Me! brothers (Part 1)
Hey guys! So these are just songs that make me imagine a relationship with each of the brothers. I came up with this concept AGES ago but I finally started working on it. I give like detailed lyric by lyric explanation of why I think so with specific lyrics from the songs. Written from a gn!reader perspective, even if the songs reference a specific gender. Hope you guys like it âĽÂ
DISCLAIMER: this only includes SATAN, ASMO, LUCIFER AND MAMMON. Beel, Belphie and Levi I am still working on, so I will make a PART 2 some time later and add them too! I was really excited to post it so I figured I would just share the ones I have already finished so far :)
Songs/descriptions after the cut!
Satan: Take Me to Church by Hozier
This song just instantly struck me as a Satan/MC song when I was listening to it. It just sorta seems to me to be from Satanâs POV. Itâs how he views MC as this beautiful person whoâs charming, funny and all around heavenly to him.Â
my loverâs got humour
sheâs the giggle at a funeral
This just refers to how Satan feels like MC has a way to make everything around them lively and to make him smile/laugh. Thereâs not much that can break through Satanâs shell or spark his interest. But when MC is around him, he feels like he can breathe, he can laugh.
knows everybodyâs disapproval
should have worshipped her sooner
This line to me seems like Satan sees himself as a monster but MC doesnât see/care about any of that. MC doesnât care what anyone thinks of their relationship. They donât care about anyoneâs whispering or judgement/disapproval. He says he should have âworshipped her soonerâ because he feels as though it took him too long to appreciate MC. He saw all his brothers slowly falling for them but until MC worked to fight for his relationship with Lucifer, he never truly saw their spark. And now that he sees it, he wishes he had noticed them earlier.
if the heavens ever did speak
sheâs the last true mouth piece
Satan is a demon. He is wrath. He was literally born out of Luciferâs anger. He does not understand the concept of Heaven. He knows it exists physically (his brothers were angels, and the Celestial Realm exists.) He was never an angel the way his brothers were. All he knows is his anger. But MC makes him have faith in Heaven. He believes a creature as beautiful as them, who is as selfless as them, and says the things that they do would surely be created by the Heavens. He sees her as the only true representation of Heaven and all that is pure to him.
the only heaven iâll be sent to
is when iâm alone with you
This is sort of similar to the paragraph above. Itâs just Satan talking about how he feels at peace when he is with MC. When he is alone with them, he feels like the weight of his wrath is lifted off his shoulders. He feels free. He doesnât have to hide himself behind a mask. He can be himself when he is with her, without having to pretend as he does for the rest of the world.
take me to church
iâll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
This is just his promise that he will worship MC to their entirety. He will love them, their body, their soul.Â
iâll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife
As I said before, he views himself as a monster. But with MC he feels like he can be open, be honest. He doesnât have to hide the side of himself that scares him. He can tell MC his âsinsâ. He knows he can trust her with his heart, his truth.
offer me that deathless death
Satan views love as a âdeathless deathâ. Because he views his love for MC as so strong itâs like a kind of death of his old self. He does not physically âdieâ but his love for MC is so strong that itâs killed him (in a beautiful way, not a harmful way.)Â
good god, let me give you my life
he wants to give MC everything, his whole life, his existence. everything.
Asmo: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys
@amsodeus @ireallyreallyloveasmo @asmodeusbby i hope my fellow asmo fans approve of this âĽ
I just love this song for Asmo/MC. It seems to me from Asmoâs POV. He does not completely understand the concept of âloveâ that is so strong for another person. All he knows is that he wants to be MCâs, he wants to belong to them. He wants to be the only one who is MCâs.
i wanna be your Ford Cortina
i will never rust
Here Asmo is trying to say that his love for them is everlasting. It could also be a reference to his beauty, cause it is Asmo. He wants to offer MC everything they could want in a partner. An endless, unconditional love. Asmo is scared, insecure about confessing his love to MC because he has never loved someone like this and is scared of being rejected. He tries to tell them âhe will never rustâ. He wants them to know that his beauty wonât ever fade. He is scared to be rejected so tries to use his beauty as another reason why MC should accept him, if his love is not enough. :(
if you like your coffee hot
let me be your coffee pot
He wants to offer MC everything he has. Itâs a metaphor, kinda like saying:Â âif MC likes coffee, I wonât just offer them a cup, but the whole ass potâ. He wants them to know he is willing to give his whole self to them.Â
you call the shots, babe
i just wanna be yours
He doesnât mind having MC in charge. He is almost clueless with this kind of love. He wants MC to lead him, to teach him that he can be loved and how he can love them. He just wants to be theirs. Maybe in a NSFW sense it can also be like Asmo offering himself as a submissive. To serve MC in the bedroom. For them to call the shots, and him to give them anything they please.
secrets I have held in my heart
are harder to hide than I thought
maybe I just wanna be yours
Asmoâs insecurities are his secret. He always tries to act as though he loves himself and that everything is simply perfect in his life. But this is untrue. He always felt empty. Until he met MC. They changed something in him, in his heart. He has spent so long hiding how he feels, and MC sees right through him. Another reason he loves MC, cause they can always see through his walls. And LORD this man has built hella walls around his heart. HE JUST WANTS TO BE THEIRS. He doesnât want to share with anyone else, including his brothers. He wants to be MCâs one and only.
i wanna be your setting lotion (wanna be)
hold your hair in deep devotion (how deep?)
at least as deep as the Pacific Ocean
i wanna be yours
As I mentioned earlier, Asmo wants to offer his entire being to MC. Again emphasizing the point: he wants to be MCâs, he wants to belong to them. He will love them and attend to their needs with devotion as deep as the Pacific Ocean. His past as a player is irrelevant to him now. He wants to devote his entire life to MC and only MC. And he wants MC to feel the same for him as he does for them.
Lucifer: Halo by BeyoncĂŠ
I definitely see this mostly from Luciferâs POV. It just seems to work so well for me. Itâs Lucifer giving into his feelings for MC. His shell is being broken and no matter how hard he tries to write it off, he canât anymore. He loves MC and they have touched a part of him that no one ever has before.
remember those walls I built?
well, baby, they're tumblin' down
and they didn't even put up a fight
they didn't even make a sound
He has had walls built around his heart ever since the fall and losing Lillith. He is scared to open up his heart again. He is scared to feel that kind of a loss again. He fears that if he tries to love again, it will destroy him, so he deflects. He avoids his feelings. But ever since MC entered his life, they are beginning to break down. Slowly but surely. He didnât even notice it at first. It was so sudden. MC caught him off guard. He would have never imagined the exchange student from the human world would even matter to him, let alone have this kind of an effect on him. The walls around his heart have stopped fighting. They are breaking down because MC is breaking through them with their love.
i found a way to let you in
but I never really had a doubt
standin' in the light of your halo
i got my angel now
At first he was skeptical, afraid, un-trusting. But with time, he began to give into his feelings. MC switched something on in him that hadnât been on in a long time. They made him desire to feel something again. To love. To be loved. He devoted his whole life to Diavolo so he could avoid his emotions and only care to serve him. But suddenly that wasnât the only thing that mattered anymore. He doesnât even feel surprised. A part of him saw this coming, even though it did catch him by surprise at the start. Something about MC always struck him as different. He sees them as his angel. Their light shines on him and forces him to open up. To be true to them and to himself. He is done hiding. He has MC now and all his worries seem to melt away.
it's like I've been awakened
every rule I had you breakin'
it's the risk that I'm takin'
i ain't never gonna shut you out
Like I said before, MC brought back a part of him that had been gone for so long. That part has been âawakenedâ within him. He created a set of rules for himself so he can prevent getting hurt in love again. But ever since MC arrived, he feels himself breaking all those rules. For them. He is letting MC in. He canât fight their influence. He knows itâs a risk but he no longer cares. All he can feel is his love for MC. He will no longer shut them out. He knows his heart is safe with them. He knows they love him the way that they love him. He no longer is afraid of them breaking his walls. If anything, he welcomes it now. He feels safe with them emotionally. Something he hasnât felt in a long, long time.
everywhere I'm lookin' now
i'm surrounded by your embrace
baby, I can see your halo
you know you're my savin' grace
Everywhere he turns, he feels MCâs love. They have become his whole life. His reason to wake up in the morning. Their love keeps him going. He is surrounded by their essence. Their body, their soul, they whole being, itâs all that matters to him, all he ever sees. They are all he sees in a crowded room. He can see their âhaloâ. Their light, their positive influence on him, and even on his brothers. On his family. They are his âsaving graceâ. Saving him from himself. From his own fears. His own insecurities. Saving him from a life without love.
you're everything I need and more
it's written all over your face
baby, I can feel your halo
pray it won't fade away
MC is all he needs. Even more. MC is his love, his life, his breath. He can see it on their face. They feel it too. Their love is pure, unconditional. Theyâre both hopelessly devoted to one another. They have opened their hearts to one another. He can feel their love, their influence. And for the first time since he fell, he feels himself praying. Praying that this never goes away. That he never loses MC. He wants this to last forever. Itâs all heâs ever wanted.
Mammon: Unconditionally by Katy Perry
This song worked so well for Mammon/MC according to me cause itâs all about accepting someone completely, flaws and all, because thatâs just how much you love them.
all your insecurities
all the dirty laundry
never made me blink one time
I love this part for them specifically. Cause as we know Mammon is a really insecure dude even though he tries to hide it. His brothers always go at him and heâs always worried MC will leave him for one of his brothers, always saying that heâs her âfirstâ and she should come to him before anyone else. And like the âdirty laundryâ part is that, sometimes Mammon does questionable things like stealing his brotherâs things to sell them off for money but MC doesnât care. MC knows thatâs who Mammon is and they love Mammon as he is.Â
so come just as you are to me
don't need apologies
know that you are worthyÂ
MC does not want Mammon to hide behind his mask. He tries to act as though he does not care and is unaffected by all these strong feelings. MC wants him to come to them âjust as he isâ. MC wants to see the real Mammon. They want him to feel like he can be himself with them. MC does not want him to apologize for who he is. MC just wants him to know that they love him for who he is. MC wants them to know that he IS worthy. No matter what his brothers, or anyone else says. MC knows Mammon puts on a strong face but he is truly hurt by what his brothers say, and he might feel âworthlessâ or like he is âscumâ. MC wants him to know this is bullshit. HE IS WORTHY.
acceptance is they key to be
to be truly free
will you do the same for me?
MC completely embraces Mammon as he is, and accepts him. Being in love with Mammon makes MC feel free. The last line could be MC asking if Mammon would do the same for them. Love them unconditionally the way that they love him. Mammon of course would love them unconditionally. He always has. MC is everything to him and he accepts all their quirks, and actually loves all of them.Â
and there is no fear now
let go and just be free
cause i will love you
unconditionally
These lines just appear to me to come from MCâs POV to Mammon. They tell him not to be afraid. There is no reason to be. They will never leave Mammon. They will always choose him. They will love him unconditionally. He does not have to constantly remind them that he is their first. Because they already know this. It is ingrained in their heart. Mammon IS their first. And that will never change. Mammon does not have to be afraid that anything between them will change.Â
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Hi lovely! Iâm not sure if your requests are open but I just worked out for the first time since ive gotten super depressed! It might not be that big of a deal but can I get some geadcannons on how the brothers would react to this? (: (their lover working out for the first time in months because of their mental illness)
I respect this so hard and am super proud of you. I have similar struggles so it always makes me happy to see someone able to get back up. Good job :)
These headcanons will be short because Iâm getting ready for bed and have to get into school mode, but here you go! âĽÂ
Lucifer
It wasnât uncommon for him to wake you up, or even gently start the day by sitting at your bedside and whispering sweet nothings
He opens the door soundlessly, as always, and is quite surprised to see you in the middle of doing a yoga series. Thankfully, your back is to the door
Pride blossoms in his chest and, for the first time, it doesnât feel heavy like the burden of his sin
Itâs warm and joyful and feels like an old memory of the Celestial Realm, a call back to happier days
His eyes mist over a bit but no one can confirm it
Lucifer is a perfect, beautiful statue that watches for a few poses before slowly inching back towards the doorway to peek around the corner
Pretends like he never saw anything when you go about the rest of your day, but is absolutely glowing when he looks at you.
Lavishes you in his fancy praise, as always. (âYou look enchanting, my love. Simply radiant today.â)
Mammon
Heâll deny it to the day he dies, but he craves your company.
Actually, heâs more likely to admit it when youâre in a depressive episode because youâre tender and vulnerable and thatâs how he really is when he lets his guard down. Thatâs when people need the most love, and youâve put him back together so much that he wants to repay the favor 1,000x fold
Mammonâs very surprised to see you running careful laps up one set of stairs and down the set on the other end of the hallway (that explains why it took him so long to find you).
Itâs like speed walking. He watches for a lap and a half to make sure youâre not rushing off anywhere. You know, making sure nothingâs serious
When he realizes youâre exercising in earnest heâs super stoked. Like, #1 hype man.
âThatâs my human! Yeah!â Mammon becomes your cheerleader
Drops sly comments about how itâs actually a good glute workout and heâll give you a massage afterwards
Keeps up with you more than youâd expect (models train hard, okay?) but does get bored. Maintains cheer position
Carries you around the rest of the day when your legs are sore
Levi
Levi had to do a fair bit of research on depression when he realized you werenât converting to being a fellow otaku shut-in
The two of you still enjoyed cuddle times, and sometimes he could engage you in games, but the health of his beloved was important! Humans couldnât be without exercise for too long or it would be bad for them
Itâs super awkward but he tries to invite you swimming and things. Sometimes you just donât have the energy. He understands, and is totally down for cuddling you (with partial back rubs) while playing games
Makes sure you eat and definitely splits his rations
Enjoys the small walks from his room to yours, and makes sure you guys drift between them a couple of times a day. That helps humans, right?
Levi realizes fairly quickly that you havenât been to his room in a while and goes to check on you
Youâre hopping in patterns across the floor, slowly making your way to his room.
You look like youâre having fun!
Heâs not sure what youâre doing, but you hop, you squat, then you lunge.
You lock eyes with Levi mid-lunge and wobble a bit. Heâs a little pink in the face, but because heâs laughing in sheer delight at how spooked you looked.
You end up flopping over and Levi crouches beside you, offering his hand
When he hears you finally had a burst of energy and wanted to work out, to start over again, heâs very proud of you
May or may not have compared you to Henry and shared some of the more harrowing moments the hero went through (also how heâs awesome and came back better than ever!)
Invites you for a swim and you actually accept
After some laps and splashing about, you spend time floating and cuddling
Satan
Depression is sometimes just a thing humans go through, Satan is finding out.
Between Devildom books and human books, he kind of understands
Itâs a thing of time, and sometimes other methods help. He personally thinks the lack of sun in the Devildom is the main culprit
Gives you healthy snacks and tracks down vitamins
Tries to get you to walk the gardens but realizes he canât force it
Sometimes he gets you outside, reading under trees and lanterns
Satan roamed the House of Lamentation, intending to steal you for another outside reading session, and was surprised to find you out there already
He watched from a high window, peeking tentatively from behind the thick curtain, and let the amused smile cut his lips
Suddenly, you disappeared out of sight. Satan waited for what felt like ages until the logic of âthe fastest way between Point A and B is a straight lineâ kicked in. He held his book carefully, unlatched the window, and jumped out
Demons have good joints and sturdier bodies. The drop and landing was nothing for him.
He calls your name and starts walking around.
Itâs not until heâs made a full lap and youâre giggling (behind him somehow?) that he realizes youâre just leisurely walking laps around the house
Super embarrassed that he got worried (and that you ended up behind him). Jumps when you touch his shoulders or if you hugged him around the waist
Youâre happy and...yourself for the first time in a while and Satanâs heart is so happy. Before you can break the hug, he twines his fingers with yours and just holds your hand to his body
Eventually you break away, kiss his shoulders, and start a game of tag that turns into sky-watching, and laying on his chest as he readsÂ
Asmodeus
He knows how to break hearts but he ALSO knows how to fix him
Heâs always trying to get his brothers to hang out and make good memories. Despite what he says and how he acts, he really cares for them from the bottom of his heart
You count, too. Youâre like, top tier. Basically family. VIP space. Maybe SPOUSE space (but thatâs too fast for a human, right?)
Though rare and private, Asmo has his bad days, too. They can either be fixed, or they canât. Usually things are just distractions. The heart will heal in its own time.
Asmo went to your room with the latest round of pampering but stopped short of announcing himself. Does he hear...music?
Nudging the door open with his foot, his eyes light up so pink the gradient is disappearing.
Youâre dancing and humming, making faces at yourself in the mirror.
His heart clenches with a beautiful pain because youâre so vibrant and lively and he knows it was hard for you to find this again
The pampering is abandoned for an impromptu PRIVATE dance party
Silly and sweet things, waltzing and just being close, hugging as you sway side to side
Lots of forehead kisses and pet names.
Beelzebub
He didnât think your behavior was out of the ordinary since Belphie slept a lot.
Beel is always motivated by something--food, sports, working out, family stuff--so heâs not familiar with the lack of desire to do anything
When he learns youâre not just catching up on sleep and you might be having a rough time, he asks Lucifer and Satan what to do
They decide you should work out. That releases endorphins in humans and that sounds like what you need!
The attempts donât go well, but youâll at least come out of your room and be a resistance weight for him
Beel went into the weight room to do some pre-warm up exercises. He was mentally planning his reps and figuring out what muscle groups were on the schedule when he heard the clinking of weights
His brothers had other ways of working out so that meant only one person could be in the weight room
Beelzebub stamped down the urge to rush in and watch you in all your occupied glory, reminding himself you could drop a weight on yourself (or worse)
His purr gives him away
Heâs proud, borderline excited, and just purrs long and loud from the entryway
Jumps into the workout with you, doing light exercises
Beel gets a little playful adjusting your posture, but itâs all sweet hugs and rocking you back and forth
Regardless of what muscle groups were on the schedule for the day, itâs arm day because heâs lifting you up, throwing you a little, and catching you in his arms
Give this happy, snuggly boy some kisses Â
Belphegor
He can sense your state of mind by the nature of his sin. He sleeps a lot and has a knack for telling when someoneâs sleep is anything but restful
Belphegorâs not 100% sure, but he thinks he can tap into your dream space. Thereâs this little ball of sad-tired-something that lets him know youâre not okay
Thereâs quiet mini-dates that ease the sting of your sadness, but he knows itâs not enough
When he sleeps, he has dreams about you being happy and hopes he can push them into your mind
Cuddles fix things. Heâs down for couple naps.
Belphegor goes in and out of sleep; itâs during one of his periods of waking that he notices youâre not there
Hugging his pillow, he shuffles about the House of Lamentation to find you
He finds you cleaning and organizing the kitchen. Cleaning is a sign of healing, right? Lots of movement?
Belphegor realizes youâre doing more than cleaning. Youâre stretching and lifting things like theyâre Beelâs weights
It looks time-consuming, and like youâve been at it for a while
Belphie plonks his head on your shoulder, asking how youâre feeling. Heâs got that sleepy Cheshire Cat smile
Youâre just as happy as can be, happier than heâs seen you in a while, and you celebrate by stealing a bunch of snacks and making a blanket fort in his roomÂ
Hope you liked it :)
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An Angel Through Time
David Milton (The Dark Pictures Anthology: Little Hope) x Reader (Female)
Warnings: Mentions of death and a near death scene
Genre: Angst, Romance
Summary: The unthinkable miracle of getting a second chance at love centuries after the first one slipped through his fingers is exactly what happens to David Milton when Johnâs students are taken back trough time and save him from certain death.
Requested by my dear friend @artlovingbreâ . Hello! Iâm sorry to be posting your request so late, I hope it makes up for the wait. David is really an underrated character and I canât thank you enough for giving me the opportunity to write for him. Please enjoy the read! Love, Vy â¤
Y/D/N - Your doubleâs name (same first letter as your name)
I feel someoneâs grip on my forearm, encouraging me to open my tightly shut eyes. When I do so, Iâm met with a terrifying scene. That evil priest is here, along with that little girl and two other men - one of which is a spitting image of Daniel. The priest is saying something but Iâm too busy exchanging confused and fearful looks with Daniel and Andrew who have been dragged into this mess with me.
âWhat do we do?â I ask, turning around just in time to see the other man push Danielâs double over the ledge.
âNO!â The scream leaves both me and Daniel but while I remain frozen in place he rushes to save the innocent man from the certain death awaiting him.
Luckily, he manages to grab onto him, I donât know how he made it, Iâm just glad he did. However, heâs struggling to pull him up to safety, having his double dangle above his faith.Â
Seeing the man who pushed him pull out a knife and begin to approach the ledge shakes me out of my trance and I rush over to help him myself, grabbing onto the rope that binds his wrists. Thankfully, with joined forces and a little help from Andrew who took a bit longer to snap out of his confusion, we pull the double back inside the belfry. We each lose our balance, falling to the ground, letting go of the rope that has cut through the skin of out palms.
I hiss at the irritating pain spreading through my hands, squeezing my eyes shut. If I had any doubt that this was actually happening, I donât have it anymore. The pain is real. That scene was real. That man was real. This is all real and I really need to put myself together because otherwise, Iâm not making it out of this place alive.
Oh God, the image I saw when I rushed to the ledge - below was a spiked fence this innocent man wouldâve inevitably impaled himself on had Daniel not caught him when he did. My heart sinks just thinking of that happening.
âHey, itâs over now. You can open your eyes.â Andrewâs comforting voice reaches me through the fog of distress clouding my brain. I feel his gentle grip on my shoulder as if trying to ground me to the present, reminding me we left that behind.
Maybe not completely though. The first face I see is Danielâs, thing is - a quick look to the left shows Daniel standing aside talking to Taylor. The person Iâm looking at is his double. In the present. Here, with us, now.Â
I look at Andrew whoâs offering me a helping hand to get me off the ground. He understands all the bafflement from that simple eye-contact and I can tell he feels the same.
John and Angela ask us for explanations but how are we supposed to explain something even we donât understand?Â
                              * * *
How can this be? Itâs them, itâs really them. Maybe itâs their souls looming over me as to shield me from harm. Maybe I have been compromised by the Devil himself. I have no answers, no way to understand what is right in front of me.
The late sister of mine - Tabitha and my deceased lover, Y/D/N.Â
My eyes may deceive me or an evil force is using me as its plaything. I can not be sure of anything anymore. So help me God, I am miraculously alive. Or I maybe arenât. This may be my soul reuniting with the souls of my condemned love ones. One was accused of witchcraft by our own kin - our sister Mary, and the other, my dear Y/D/N was a victim of reverend Carverâs sinful, poisoned with malice heart.
We were to be married, the joy of calling her my wife so close within my reach. I remember the night I asked her to marry me: the tears glistening in her eyes, the warmth of her embrace. The happiness that inhabited our home.
And how suddenly it was taken from us.
Y/D/N warned me of Carverâs advances and intentions towards her. I told her not to fear, that I would first throw myself in the arms of damnation rather than let any harm be done to her. I will never forgive myself for not doing more to save her from the horrible fate Carver decided for her when she refused his advances and stayed true to me and our love. She let out her final breath right in front of me, looking me straight in the eye.
Her final words shall forever haunt my mind and memories.
David, my soul will love you beyond deathâs grip
This is her fulfilling her last words. She rescued me from inevitable demise.Â
Like a guardian angel, using her love for me to keep me out of evilâs reach.
âAre you ok?â She approaches me cautiously, almost fearfully. âThat was a close call back there.â
âMy eyes deceive me, no? Y/D/N, is it really you?â I reach out towards her, fearing she is nothing but an illusion. Fearing Iâll never see her again the second my hand touches hers.
Her hand takes firm hold of mine as reassurance that I havenât gone mad. âIâm sorry but Iâm not. My nameâs Y/N. I understand that you are having a tough time understanding this and believe me - weâre in the same boat there. Just trust us, weâll....figure everything out, ok?â
Her voice - her voice opens the wound on my heart Y/D/Nâs death inflicted on me. I hear the echo of the purest words Iâve ever heard spoken.
I most certainly do not feel safe nor do I understand what trickery was done to me for my soul to be sent amongst these people, but I believe they mean no harm. I have seen the face of evil - and it doesnât look like them.
                               * * *
Danielâs double, who I now know is named David, is coping with this surprisingly well. The confusion is still clouding his brain but heâs not nearly as freaked out as I wouldâve been in his position. He hasnât asked many questions, I think heâs still in shock. Regardless, heâs calm and...well, alive and thatâs what matters.
Every now and then I catch him looking at me with this sorrowful sadness in his gaze. I feel my heart sink a little every time I see it. He has mentioned another lady, Y/D/N I think he called her. I donât know what relation he has to her, but he mistook me for her so I can only assume sheâs my double. Iâm honestly afraid to ask, I donât believe I can handle what heâll tell me. At least not yet.
We approach an old house. Thatâs a pretty generic description, considering all the houses in this ghost-town are old. This one, however, sticks out. It has clearly been shielded from the cruelty of time by many renovations. It simultaneously looks firm as a fort but also like it could crumble at any moment. Itâs hard to explain, youâd have to see it to understand. Through one of the windows we see a faint flickering light, presumably from a lit candle.
âThis is our house. What in Godâs name has happened to it? Why is it so filthy?â David looks the house from top to bottom with fear and hurt in his eyes. I see the tears threatening to roll down his cheeks and my heart cracks much like the foundation of the house.
âIt may have been your hose back then. Itâs no oneâs now.â John tries to explain to him, as delicately and carefully as one could, âItâs our only good lead, given thereâs light in there.â
David shakes his head, âI refuse to step foot beyond that doorstep.â His statement is firm, not that we wouldâve tried to change his mind regardless.
I look at the group who are exchanging puzzled gazes. I raise my voice to say: âIâll wait outside with David, you guys can go in and do a sweep. If you find anything useful just holler, I doubt I wonât hear you.â
They slowly nod in agreement before entering the house. I watch as they disappear into the darkness of the hallway, paying close attention to the creaking of the floorboards that bend under the weight of their footsteps - giving me some indication of where they are in case I need to go in and find them.
There is a half-rotted bench in front of the house. It looks far from stable or useable but I decide to take my chances. I sit down and brace for impact with the ground but when that doesnât happen I wave David over to sit down as well. He does so, though reluctantly - never taking his gaze of the house, the look in his eyes remaining as painful as when he first saw it.
âY/D/N, she was the light of this home. Tabitha was to be wedded as well. She didnât live to see that day. I couldnât protect either of them.â He rests his elbows on his knees, hiding his face in the palms of his hands. âI shouldâve fought till the last undeserved breath for theirs. I shouldâve done more.â
With minor hesitation, I place my hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him though I know my presence is fueling his sorrow. Iâm an image of someone meaningful he lost, how can he even bare to look at me? âWho was she? Y/D/N?â
His hand reaches up, taking hold of mine and removing it from his shoulder. He straightens his posture, gently holding my hand with both of his. âMy late wife to be. She was cruelly sent away from this world by the town reverend. He wanted to rid me of my life shortly after Y/D/N, but...â his attention travels to my eyes, âyou saved me. I would now be nothing but a lifeless body if you hadnât done what you did. I will forever be in your debt.â He squeezes my hand in an act of endearment that makes my heart flutter. âThough it pains me to look at you or the other woman,â he tilts his head towards the house, presumably referring to Taylor, âI can not take my eyes off you. This mustnât be a coincidence. You are either her, or an angel sent by her. I am grateful to you regardless.â His hands uncover mine and he brings it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on my knuckles.
I feel this overwhelming need to protect him, to always be by his side and never leave him. I have known him for less than two hours; heâs been a part of this time for just as long and yet I still feel so close and so attached to him.
âDonât worry, David. My life isnât getting stripped away and neither is yours. I can promise you that.â I say reassuringly, nodding to put extra emphasis to my words.
                               * * *
The way she puts such faith on her words, on her promise, makes me recall how Y/D/Nâs voice danced in the air when sheâd tell me what our future looked like through her eyes. Every letter leaving her lips carried its own meaning, none less valuable than another. All so certain and concrete. A force to be reckoned with. A force to gain all my trust in a matter of seconds.
âThank you, Y/Nâ
I shall put my life in these peopleâs hands and my heart in the hands of this angel that survived through the walls of time. This strong woman who risked her life to save my own.Â
Thereâs no longer a doubt in my mind that sheâs my second chance at love disguised as an angel. One Y/D/Nâs soul sent me from the heavens where sheâs looking down upon me from. I shall fulfill her wish - I shall love again.
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Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer
Chapter 55
Link:Â https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/75005094
Nick gave the door a perplexed stare. No one did ever dare to shut a door in his face.
âArthurâ, he shouted at it, but to no avail. Tired and sad, he slumped down, resting his head against the cold bricks.
âGreat job, Nickâ,  he told himself.
The relief he had felt when he had realized Arthur wasnât a criminal now gave way to another depression.
âI donât know, Nick.â
What did that even mean? Was it over? Just because he had made a mistake?
Oh well, he had accused him to be a murdererâŚnot very nice, actually.
Nick winded.
It wouldâve been such an easy solutionâŚthe Downer would be the bad guy and he could return to Morrie without a bad conscience.
âIn the end, the real monster is youâ, he thought before he could stop himself.
âNo, Iâm not a monster! Or am I?â
His feelings fought each other.
And how would that get him Arthur back?
Nick struggled up onto his feet, thinking that a therapy would actually be a good idea. He gave the door a last glance, giving it a chance to open before he would leave.
The chance was left unused.
Minutes later, he stood in front of another door that always opened for him.
âIâm glad you found the timeâ, he was greeted by his secret friend.
The calm voice felt good in Nickâs ears after all that yelling. He couldnât wait to enjoy a quiet moment.
âYeah, itâs been a whileâ, he said quietly. He was so tired. âI donât know what day it is.â
James gave him a pitiful look. âIâm sorry for your loss.â
Nick needed a second to get him because he thought about Arthur at first.
âOh, Kittyâ, he then produced. He immediately felt weighted down. âItâs such a tragedyâŚâ
âCome, I fix you a drink.â
Nick followed James into the living room that by now felt like the inner sanctum of the house and fell into some comfy padding of an old fashioned piece of furniture. It looked like this house never got a beautification. It wasnât ugly though, only unusual, just like James himself, who now came back with a drink for him.
He handed it out with a thoughtful expression. âI didnât expect you to tell me every single detail in your life, butâŚyou never mentioned herâŚwhy?â
Nick sighed and clutched the very welcome glass.
âBecause I didnâtâŚthink of her. I never wanted to marry her.â He shook his head. âIt all happened so fast. Is she really dead?â
Nick didnât notice the flicker in Jamesâ eyes. âYes, certainly.â
His voice turned oddly cold, Nick found. Then he thought it was just the message that made it sound cold.
Nick stroked the glass with his thumb, unable to decided whether he should start drinking or not.
âShe didnât deserve thisâŚâ, he brought out. âShe wasâŚa bit bonkers, but a good girl.â
His throat was getting dry, so he finally took a sip.
âAnd you thought she would save you from your sins?â, James asked and Nick lifted his head, questioning.
James shrugged. âWell, having a wife is well accepted instead of having two male lovers at once.â
Nick eagerly shook his head. âOh, god noâŚI didnât want to marry herâŚshe made meâŚâ. He paused. âIt really isnât a good story.â
âI supposed that something was offâ, James offered. âThe way you looked at her.â
Nick eyed him. âYou were there?â
James made an innocent face. âBiggest event of the week, couldnât miss it.â
Nick smiled a bit. Still, the truth got caught somewhere between his teeth and he gulped it back down, leaving uncomfortable silence.
âNick, iâm sure you wouldnât be here if you wouldnât trust meâŚâ
Nick shortly nodded. âYes.â
âDo you want another?â, James pointed at his glass and Nick was surprised to see it was empty. When did that happen?
He gave it to the other man and used the pause to think this over. He was here for Arthur. But it wouldnât make sense without Kittyâs story. And if he believed that James would easily fall for any gossip about him, he would indeed not be here. James was right.
âRelax, Nick. You have all the time you need to tell me. We could talk about something else, if you wantâ, James offered.
Nick thankfully received the new drink.
âNoâŚI have to get this over withâŚItâs driving me insane.â He pushed himself forward. âThe night Richard Bates diedâŚI was thereâŚI spent the night with Kitty.â
âDidnât he die in the shop?â, James asked and Nickâs face lit up.
âRightâŚnow that you say itâŚbut Kitty believed I did itâŚ.for herâŚas if I needed to kill her husband to marry her.â He took another sip of liquid courage. âShe threatened me sheâd tell everyone that I killed him if I didnât marry her, so I proposed.â
âWhat a nice girlâ, James commented.
âShe was okay apart from thatâ, Nick insisted. âKilling her this wayâŚwho could do that?â
âI suppose you werenât anywhere near her that special night?â, James asked nonchalantly.
âNo! Iâm glad I wasnât!â, Nick blurted out. âDo you believe me?â
James looked him in the eyes. âYes, I believe you.â
Nick calmed down. He emptied his drink and put the glass on the table.
âSeems like despite all the tragedy youâre the lucky one this time. No accusations and no forced marriageâŚyouâre still free.â
Nick rested his head in his hands. âI know what you meanâŚIâm glad you believe meâŚI donât believe it myselfâŚeverything that happens to meâŚ.â
âYou had a rough time, I can see. Iâm glad I can help.â
âIt feels so good to have a friendly conversation for onceâŚThe last few days wereâŚI donât know how long I can keep this up.â Nickâs eyes began to water.
âDid you have a fight? Because you proposed? Or because sheâŚwent on holiday?â
âItâs a little bit of bothâ, Nick replied. His voice was rasping. âMorrie tries to convince me that I saw somethingâŚ.or that Iâm somehow involved in itâŚthat I just canât rememberâŚor refuse to tell himâŚ.heâll maybe get over itâŚbut ArthurâŚâ. He sighed. âI really screwed it up with him.â
âDoes he believe it was you?â
Nick sadly shook his head. âHe was near Kitty when sheâŚ.â
Another not really good story. But it wouldnât help to chicken out now, right?
âWe had a plan to save me from the marriage. Arthur wanted to drug her with Oblivion, so she would forget the entire incident. And when I read that sheâŚ.I thoughtâŚâ Nick gulped.
âIt was so easy, you know? Blaming the DownerâŚHe quickly convinced me I was wrongâŚbut the damage was already doneâŚI donât know if heâll ever talk to me again.â
Nick continued to stare at the table.
âWhatâs worse, for a while I was relievedâŚthat it would be only me and Morrie againâŚthat all this mess would be over.â
âSo, youâre closer to a decision?â, James carefully asked.
âNo, not at all!â, Nick blurted out. âActually, I confessed my love to himâŚfor the first timeâŚand I did this at the worst possible moment! I shouldâve said it beforeâŚwe had so many nice moments togetherâŚthey wouldâve been perfectâŚand now it didnât even sound like I mean it. Whatâs wrong with me? I used to trust people! I used to be good with words!â
âYou were stressed out, Nick. You needed answers and itâs quite unusual to trust Downersâ, James soothed him.
âYou would trust him too if you knew himâŚI shouldâve known better. What am I supposed to do now?â
âThe best option is to apologize.â
âI tried! But it sounded so lame! I think he needs some time for himself nowâŚ.but how much? Iâm afraid heâll move on without me.â
âYou donât have to be far away to give him some space. You could wait for him to make the first step, but stay close.â
âYeahâŚbut Morrie waits for me tooâŚI left him in a hurry to blame Arthur.â
âI agree it would be easier if Arthur was your only love, but surely thereâs a way to spend a few more hours for him.â
Nick nodded slowly. âI could wait in my suite. You know, in the underground.â
Jamesâ face lit up a bit. âIs that where your Downer is hiding?â
Nick was about to say âyesâ but thought twice. âHeâs sometimes there.â
âHeâs a smart manâ, James stated.
âHe isâ, Nick agreed, slightly swooning. âItâs amazing what he can do to survive. It was so unfair of me to treat him like that.â He slumped back down.
âItâs not over yet, NickâŚyou can overcome this fight, and your relationship will be closer than before.â
Nick gave him a hopeful look. âYou think so?â
âCertainly. Whenever you overcome hardships you will grow stronger together. Isnât it the same with Morrie and you?â
Nick ruffled his hair. âI donât knowâŚwe had a lot of fights and we broke up.â
âBut youâre back together.â
âRightâŚâ
âAnd Morrie knows what he got.â
Nick chuckled. âThe poor man.â
âAnyway, this works for every relationship, by the way.â
âVirgil and meâŚâ
âFor example. Stray strong, Nick. Fights are completely normal. The way you deal with them shows what you really feel.â
âOkayâŚâ Nick took a deep breath. âAnd what if he doesnât give me a second chance?â
âWellâŚthen you know what he feelsâŚand you can go back into Morrieâs arms.â
âYeahâŚâ Nick sat up, stretching himself. âI thinkâŚIâm readyâŚâ
âIâm glad I could cheer you upâ, James said. âBut before you leaveâŚmay I ask you a question?â
âSureâ, Nick smiled at him.
âAbout Morrieâs concernsâŚ.why is he so certain that you are involved in the case? Is there anything you remember? Anything that bothers you?â James looked at him and his expression lacked the sense of urge that wouldâve made Nick shy away.
Nick closed his eyes.
âI donât knowâŚSometimes I see thingsâŚI think theyâre only nightmares.â He pointed at the glass. âWould you mind?â
âOh, not at allâ, James poured him another drink. âIâm relieved you like the brand. A star like you mustâve tasted the best of the town already.â
âThis is easily one of the bestâ, Nick answered bemused. âI wonder where you get it.â
âMy secret sourceâ, James answered smiling.
Nick smiled back.
âOh James, everything is so complicated in my life! I wish we could meet somewhere else, in public even, but if Morrie saw usâŚâ
âYou think heâll be suspicious?â
âYeah, definitely! Also Arthur, especially now!â Nick shook his head. âIâm always hiding.â
âWe could find a wayâŚI wouldnât give up on that yetâŚSee, itâs not all your fault. Youâre famous. If Morrie or Arthur wouldnât see us, dozens of other eyes would.â
âRightâŚitâs so hard to be a god. Everyone needs me.â
âYou have a lot to give.â
âYeahâŚbut sometimes I just need to recharge.â
âItâs fine, Nick. You can always come by.â
Nick sipped his drink. âThatâs goodâ, he whispered. âWhere were we?â
âWe were talking about nightmaresâ, James said apologetically.
âOhâŚgreatâŚuhâŚyeah, It think itâs nothing more than that. Iâve been wandering around at night, long before you found me and thatâs what Iâm dreaming about.â
James mused. âLast time we met, you were outside at night. Do you recall?â
âSure, butâŚ.that was something else, trust me! I didnât feel alright and I needed to get away for a while.â
âSeems to me that you rather like the night. That you seek comfort in it.â
âWellâŚno one is staring at meâŚand it is as cold as I feel insideâŚâ. He smiled unsurely.
âPerhaps you can learn to like these dreams and see them as a refuge too?â
âToâŚlike them?â
âYes. Look, if you try to ignore them, they would only make you more afraid. If you embrace them instead, you have the chance to defeat them, if they mean to scare you. If they donât mean to scare you, then thereâs nothing to worry about. They might have a secret, but what if itâs nothing bad?â
âI never saw it this wayâŚâ
âNightmares can be caused by many reasons. Could be that youâre stressed out by the band, theyâre perhaps watching you if you behave.â
Nick chuckled. âWeâre quite relaxed, actuallyâŚI really wonder what theyâre thinking about all the chaos Iâm causing. I just hope they donât mind.â
âThey never complained?â
âNo.â
âTheyâre decent Wellies, unlike youâ, James said smirking. âAs long as they have their Joy, why would they complain?â
âMaybeâŚâ Nick ran a hand through his hair.
âIf your life wears you down, you can still make a decision.â
Nick sighed. âI canâtâŚâ
âI didnât mean to force it. If you feel like it, go see Arthur and prove him your love. Itâs still possible that the dreams go away after a while.â
âOkayâŚâ Nick stretched himself again. âThank you.â
âAnytime, Nickâ, James said in a soft voice.
Later, he led him through the corridor to the entrance door, but before Nick left, he felt like he was missing something. Eyeing James, he quickly noticed and wrapped his arms around the other man. He just now realized how much he loved the smell of Blackberry Joy. Pressing his head against Jamesâ neck, he sucked in the scent. James held him all the time.
âAre you sure you want to leave?â, he asked him quietly.
âYeahâŚI mustâŚArthurâŚâ, Nick stuttered, a little bit high from the amazing scent. He let go and James opened the door for him.
Later in his tunnel suite, he found the box of chocolates that he had given Arthur. It was untouched. It was possible that Arthur simply didnât like them, or that he didnât have the time yet, but still it was a sad look Nick didnât want to see. He wouldâve like to eat them himself now, but a present was a present. Nick slapped them onto the counter and sat down on his bed.
Looking around, he wondered what to do with himself now. Knocking at Arthurâs door wasnât an option, sadly. But waiting in utter silence wasnât either. He grabbed a guitar, the brightly colored one he used it for special occasions and itâs look cheered him up a little. After all, he had never used the tunnelâs vibes for inspiration as he had planned to. Lying on his bed, he listened to his own melody and his mind started to wander.
He fell silent when a tall man appeared at the entrance to his suite.
âYouâre still hereâ, his visitor said, avoiding his gaze.
âSureâ, Nick answered, giving him a smile.
The other man looked like he was at the edge of running away.
Nick put the guitar aside. âYou want to sit down?â, he offered and gestured at the bed.
Arthur let out a breath. âYou wouldnât try to kill me again, wonât you?â
Nickâs smile froze.
âArthur, trust me, I didnât want to hurt you. I was upset and Iâm sorry that I scared you.â
âYeahâŚupset indeed. About a bloody lie.â His voice turned bitter and he still didnât look at Nick, who felt a pang of shame in his chest.
âIâŚI canât believe it myself. Somehow, there was still a rest of doubt in me. But now I see how wrong I was! Iâm sorry, Iâll never think any bullshit about you again!â, Nick begged.
Arthur rather looked at something he saw in his mind.
âYou had the same look in your eyesâŚjust like every Wellie that attacked meâŚâ
âI swear I didnât want to!.â
âThe things you saidâŚyou called me a coward.â
âOh Arthur, youâre the bravest man I know! Everything you went through! You know I admire you for this, for your strength and your courage! I regret what i said! Please, give me a chance!â
Arthur nervously scratched his arm. It was the most awful silence Nick had ever experienced until the other man finally spoke again.
âYou said somethingâŚsomething nice tooâŚ.I didnât mean to ignore it like thatâŚI just didnât know what to doâŚâ
âDid you like it?â, Nick asked softly, feeling goosebumps all over his skin.
Arthur curled his fingers into the cloth of his trousers.
âYes, very muchâŚâ
Nick used his silkiest voice to ask: âYou mind if I say it again?â
Arthur turned to face him. His expression was still afraid.
âI love you, Arthurâ, Nick purred, watching the effect it had on the other manâs face. It changed multiple expressions until it remained with a helpless smile and red cheeks.
Nick made another gesture, and this time Arthur awkwardly walked over to him and sat down.
âI think we should kiss now, what do you think?â, Nick whispered. Arthur answered by coming closer.
They drew out their reunion kiss.
âI missed you, Nickâ, Arthur sighed while running his hands along Nickâs upper body.
âIâm gladâ, Nick purred.
âAll these daysâŚand all I had of you wasâŚwhere is it?â Did we crush it?â
Arthur started to search the bed. Nick, slightly disappointed, watched him.
âDo you mean the chocolate?â
âYes, I thought I left it here.â
âI put it away. Itâs fine if you donât want it.â
âBut I love it! I justâŚI didnât want to eat it aloneâŚItâs probably dumb.â Arthur shrugged.
âNo, itâs notâ, Nick assured him and got up to grab the box from the counter. âYou may open it now, my loveâ, he whispered and handed it over to the other man, who couldnât help but to grin sheepishly.
The neatly arranged chocolates looked delicious. Arthur glanced at Nick as if he didnât know how to eat them. Nick was willing to help. He lifted up a piece and let it dangle in front of his loverâs face.
Arthur carefully accepted it with his teeth.
Nick then waited, leaning against his shoulders.
âHow is it?â
Arthur relished it with closed eyes. âItâsâŚso good. Just try it yourself.â
Nick followed the invitation. They werenât so special to him, but he saw their potential.
He put another one in his hand and served it Arthur.
The other man understood and ate it out of his hand, slightly tickling Nickâs skin. Excited, Nick freed his arm from his jacket and shirt to offer his lover chocolate on it. Arthur looked surprised at first, then he gently held Nickâs arm in his hands to steady him while he tasted the offering. When he let go, Nick lay down and placed a piece on his belly.
Arthur caressed the spot around it with his fingers, teasing Nick, who already felt the excitement in a far lower region. Then he touched the skin with his tongue, not too eager to get this over with. He spoiled Nick with kisses, felt how his loverâs breath fastened and how his belly moved up and down. When he finally took the chocolate, it had already melted a little, and Arthur licked the rest from Nickâs aroused body. Arthur couldnât help but to take a bite of the other man who let out a moan. Working up to his chest, he muttered: âYouâre tastyâŚâ
Nick now busied himself with returning kisses and freeing Arthur from his clothes. Arthur made Nick feel how hungry he was, and Nick rather begged for more.
In the end, both were relieved to hold the other one in his arms again.
âNick, I love youâ, Arthur finally whispered.
âYeah, you doâ, Nick purred happily.
âThis is incredible, I mean, you and meâŚâ
Nick kissed him again. âYou better believe it, Arthur.â
The so-called Downer looked happier than ever. There was a spark in his eyes that Nick couldnât stop marveling at.
âNick, whyâŚâ Arthur began, then took a breath to steady his voice. âWhy donât we get us a better life?â He eyed Nick, excited and begging. Nick was curious about where this was going.
âWhat are you up to?â
âWell, I have a letter of transit, and I bet you have one! We could get to the train station in the Parade and leave!â
âLeave?â, Nick was puzzled. âWhere?â
âWell, to the mainland? To another country?â, Arthur shrugged nervously. "Who cares, it doesnât matter! Anything would be better than this!â
âBut ArthurâŚthis is a good place.â
âNickâŚIâm telling you this because I trust you. This town is not a happy place. Itâs falling apart. I can see it every day. Weâre in serious danger here and itâs getting worse.â
âWhatâs getting worse?â
Arthur gave him an apologetic look.
âLookâŚyou should see it for yourself or else you wonât believe me.â
Nick shook his head. âI donât understandâŚWhat do you want me to see?â
âWellâŚthe plague, for example.â
Nick turned pale.
âNick, trust me! Wellington Wells is not as beautiful as Joy tells you! I know it, Iâve seen it! If you triedâŚan hour without Joy, you would understand.â
âAn hour without Joy?â Nick sat up. âArthur, do you know what youâre talking about?â
âI know, but itâs hard to explain! I just want to leave this mess with you!â
âBut..but⌠I have my entire life here! My band, my friends, my fansâŚOutside, Iâm a nobody!â
âYou still have your talent! You could be an even greater star on the mainland! Just imagine how many people you could reach!â
âIâŚIâm glad you have so much trust in my talent, but I still need a manager, and the best in the world is the one I have here.â
âYou just need to play one of your songs and managers would queue up to work for you!â
Nick eyed his lover, who still looked pleading.
âArthur, is this a joke Iâm not getting?â
âNo, Nick, I wouldnât ask you if I wasnât serious! I want to spend the rest of my life with you! I know it sounds crazy but I really want to do this!â
âWhy not living here? Weâre having a good life so far.â
âNick, Iâm having no life at all! Iâm living like a rat!â Arthur waved his arms at the tunnel.
âYou have a job and a house!â
âBut Iâm always in danger, remember?â
âYou could take Joy sometimesâŚâ
âNo, I canât! Thatâs the point! Iâve seen the truth and I donât want to live a lie again!â, Arthur urged him and Nick backed away.
âWe should waitâŚthink this throughâŚperhaps youâll learn to like the town again.â
âNo, Nick, thatâs impossible. If you stopped taking Joy, you wouldnât like the town either.â
âBut I canât just go! Give me some time to think!â, Nick now begged.
âHow long, Nick? Will you vanish for another couple of days? Do you think I like that life? I never know when Iâll see you again, or if at all!â
âArthurâŚâ
âReally, do you think I like it here? You never invite me at your place, you never let me hide there! Itâs like you donât want me around!â
âI want you around! But the bandâŚâ
âYeah, the band can live in your house, but not me! Why do they even life in your house now?â
âBecause itâs making things easier! We have no carsâŚ!â
âIf I was one of your girlfriends, you wouldâve introduced me to them already, told them they had to deal with me now because you loved me!â He almost spat the last words. âBut you never did! You treat me like a stranger around them!â
Nick felt goosebumps all over his body. Not the good sort this time. Arthur reminded him of one of his wives.
âCalm down, please! We can sort this out!â
âHow long?â
âI donât knowâŚ.a few days? Damnit, Arthur, a boyfriend would be enough of a surprise, but a DownerâŚâ
Arthur rolled his eyes. âYou donât have to tell them that! In fact, it would be easier to tell them you need your house for yourself again!â
âYou want me to kick them out?â
âJust tell them you have a relationship and need some space!â
âOne day after Kitty died?â
âYou never wanted her in the first place!â
âYeah, but itâs still very suspicious! Everyone is waiting for me to come out as a killer and I donât want to take that risk!â
âSo, thatâs it? You have no place for your lover because you have to save your reputation and your band canât be expected to walk a few feet to their homes?â
âArthur!â, Nick gasped. âWhat is this? I donât understand!â
âThink about what youâre doing to me, Nick! Would any girl let you treat her that way?â
âI never told you not to take JoyâŚI love you anywayâŚbut I canât make others like you.â
âYou already did somehow. The band likes me, remember?â
âYeah, wellâŚâ
âYouâre good with words. Youâll find an explanation.â
âNo, Arthur, I canât do thisâŚI havenât seen them for ages and I donât want to disappoint them just yet.â At Arthurâs look he added: âThey wouldnât understand!â
âSo you wonât even try?â
âArthur, this is crazy, just think about it!â
âI had a lot of time to think about it! All these lonely days without you!â
âIt wouldnât be much different! I have to do my job! I canât be there every hour to please you! You donât know how long it takes to record something that isnât utter crap!â
âIt would be very different, because I could spend the nights with you, the morning hours and whenever youâre home! And believe it or not, I want to please you too!â
âI see you whenever I canâŚâ
âThatâs also risky, coming down here. The Bobbies could catch you.â
âI know my way around them, Iâll be fine.â
âSo everythingâs the way you want?â, Arthur flared up. âDid you ever plan to get me into your life?â
âOf course I did!â, Nick helplessly replied.
âHow?â
Nick was speechless. The silence dragged him down and his eyes burned.
âI came here to apologize, and you treat me like shit!â He left the bed. âYou better think about what youâre doing to me!â, were his last words before he ran out.
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a prowlcoswave commission for @soundwavereportingâ!
ao3 link
Sanctuary Station is somehow⌠less than Prowl expected, smaller than heâd thought it would be. The walls no longer have the vague purple glow that every Decepticon ship seemed to have and the lights are bright, no longer condemned to wartime regulations.
âI expected something bigger,â Prowl says, instead of everything else.
Cosmos nodsâmore acknowledgement than anythingâand says, âThis, uh, this is it for now, I think? But Soundwave said that modules could be added in the future.â
He looks awkwardâsounds awkwardâas if he doesnât know what to do with himself. Itâs fair, all things considered, given who they both are. A comm call wonât fix everything and neither will a single visit. But Prowl can hope itâs a start.
âWhereâsââ Prowl starts. As if on cue, the door slides open. Soundwave steps into the room. ââSoundwave? Nevermind.â
âProwl,â Soundwave greets with a subtle nod.
âSoundwave. Itâs nice to see youâre still in good health,â Prowl says, though not entirely good-naturedly. Soundwave might have had his respect, but certainly none of his affection.
âAs well as one can be, in this universe,â Soundwave replies, offering his servo. Prowl takes it.
Cosmos watches them concerned optics as they sift through formalities, as if afraid theyâll end up at each otherâs throats. Itâs not an unprecedented concern, considering who Prowl and Soundwave are, but when they release each otherâs servos he seems to relax, as if the danger has passed. Perhaps it has, Cosmos knows them both better than most.
âHow have you been, Prowl?â Cosmos asks as he sits down at the table tucked in the corner of the room. Soundwave himself turns to the energon dispenser. Prowl can admire that they seemed to have planned this out, even as casual of a meeting as it is supposed to be. âI heard a lot of things.â
âTheyâre probably all true,â Prowl admits after a moment, taking the seat across from Cosmos. âI was not⌠in the best of minds.â
Itâs hard to admit, even in pleasant company, partially because of Soundwave and partially because of the weight of it. Even if Soundwaveâs sins did outnumber his own, Soundwave had still been an enemy for a long time.
âAre youâŚ?â Cosmos makes a vague gesture than Prowl has never been able to interpret. âYouâre not going to go crazy on us, right?â
Prowl huffs out a laugh, âIâm not, Cosmos. Iâd like to think Iâm better now.â
âIâm glad youâre okay then. You might be a jerk, but you donât deserve to be hurt,â Cosmos says, reaching across the table to rest his servo atop Prowlâs. Two of his digits end up framing his wrist. An old emotion flares in Prowlâs spark, one heâd thought heâd gotten rid of forever and a lifetime ago.
If Prowl were a foolâa romantic fool, young and naĂŻveâhe would claim it a perfect fit, the space between he and Cosmos. But itâs not. Itâs nowhere near perfect, because Cosmos is so much larger than Prowl. He always has been. Pretending they fit together perfectly would be a fallacy.
Prowl stares for a moment before looking up at Cosmos again, meeting his optics, âItâs good to know youâre okay, too.â
He can see Cosmosâ optics crinkle in fondness, but he removes his servo in the next moment as Soundwave sits down beside them. Dutifully, Soundwave hands each of them an energon cube. He looks between him as if trying to figure something out. Prowl tries to ignore the phantom feeling of Cosmosâ servo on his.
âYouâre not having any?â Cosmos asks, gesturing to Soundwaveâs empty servos.
âIâve already refueled,â Soundwave informs. âI do not feel comfort in taking off my mask in front of company.â
Cosmosâ squints suspiciously, âYou take your mask off in front of me all the time.â
âThatâs different,â Soundwave assures.
And Prowl gets it suddenly, this thing between Cosmos and Soundwave. He has to hold back a snort. The Autobots and Decepticons were subtle, in their own ways, but Prowl had thought the Decepticons less so. Prowl forgets theyâre different too.
For the Decepticons, vulnerability and protection were love. It was the kind of connection forged in fire. Prowl had always admired them for it, as much as he loathed to admit it. For the Autobots, there were far too many mixed signals. Too many subtleties to misinterpret and get wrong.
âFine,â Cosmos concedes. He picks up his energon, straw already in the cube. His faceplate retracts, revealing his intake port. âYouâre going to have to tell me eventually though.â
âIâm aware,â Soundwave says. âNow, I believe you wanted to catch up with Prowl, correct?â
âYeah,â Cosmos nods, taking a sip of his energon. âDid anything interesting happen, Prowl? Anything you want to talk about, I meanâI know youâre a private guy and I wonât pry this time. Iâll wait until itâs just us.â
âIâll have to thank you later, then,â Prowl says. âBut nothing youâd want to know. I didnât see anything all that exciting.â
He doesnât mention a lot of things in that single statement. Like Optimus Maximus or Optimus Prime. Itâs vulnerability that Soundwave does not deserve. But Cosmos will get it, when theyâre alone.
âPrivate?â Cosmos asks, tone knowing, as if to make sure.
âYes,â Prowl says, âbut tell me how youâve been? I know we didnât part on the best of terms and Iâd like to make sure weâre stillâŚâ
He makes a wordless gesture, sipping at his energon. Words are difficult sometimes, but especially in the face of this. Beside Cosmos, Soundwave looks as if heâs reached some great realization.
âAre you courting?â Soundwave asks before either of them can say more.
Prowl chokes. The energon burns as some gets into his internal vents. The rest ends up coating his arm when he coughs.
âWhat?â he asks, disbelieving.
Cosmos looks just as surprised at the question, âProwl and I are definitely not courting. Heâs Prowl and IâmâWhat made you think that?â
Prowl ignores the flare of self-loathing that comes with the statement, the cut off. Thereâs a part of him that agrees far to vehemently with the thoughts it brings. He merely turns to look at Soundwave instead.
Soundwave looks helpless for a moment, as if unsure what to say. Then, decisively, he says, âYou want to be.â
âAgain. What?â Prowl demands, not even making his way toward denial. The warm emotion in his chest canât really be ignored when itâs shoved in front of him.
âCosmos was flirting with you,â Soundwave says patiently.
âNo?â Prowl knows he sounds unsure but he canât quite wrap his processor around the idea.
âYes,â Soundwave insists, looking over at Cosmos. âCosmos.â
Cosmos looks uncomfortable under the weight of Soundwaveâs stare. Prowl can understand. He thinks he would be uncomfortable if he were Cosmos too. Not many ever paid him much attention, but thatâs what made him good for Ops work.
âI might have been,â Cosmos admits after a long moment. âBut I can stop if you want me to. I didnât mean to make you uncomfortable. Iâm sorry.â
âIââ Prowl stops. He thinks of what he could say. Affection is a weakness. Prowl has learned that, but Cosmos isâheâs Cosmos. Prowl canât explain what he feels for him or why. âYou donât have to stop,â he says softly.
Cosmos gets that surprised look again, as if he didnât expect Prowl to return a hint of his affections. But he looks happy too. But Prowl, for all he is, refuses to be trapped, even by this. He refuses to let Cosmos be trapped by it either.
âOn that note, please inform Soundwave youâre flirting with him too,â Prowl says, all faux politeness, because blunt force has always worked for him in situations such as these. He ignores the whispers of Optimus.
If this doesnât come to head now, it likely never will. And Prowl doesnât have to like Soundwave to  acknowledge that Cosmos and Soundwave will be unhappy without each other, even if Prowl is by Cosmosâ side. Love is a multifaceted thing and Prowl himself is a time bomb waiting to go off. These are the things that Prowl understands.
Itâs Soundwaveâs turn to be surprised and Cosmos sinks back into embarrassment. Prowl would be amused if this were any less of a charged situation. But he knows how it will end. It was obvious from the start.
âYeah,â Cosmos says shortly.
Soundwaveâs optics fill with affection, âYou are in luck, little Autobot.â
He takes Cosmosâ servo in his own and he is all soft lines and adoration. For a moment, Prowl feels like an interloper here in this place, where Soundwave and Cosmos have filled their lives with affection.
The feeling is not entirely gone even when Cosmos says, âCome here, Prowl.â
He holds out his servo and his optics are just as soft as Soundwaveâs. Prowl does not know how to loveânot yet, but it is close enough when Cosmos grabs his servo and Prowlâs digits curl over Cosmosâ. That warm feeling settles in his chest again. He lets himself be pulled to Cosmosâ side, tucked under his arm as if a lover.
Perhaps, Prowl can be naĂŻve this once.
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fame & surrender (m.)
â âever the curious cat, you canât say no when notorious rockstar V extends an invitation to get to know him better after your televised interview. skin to skin, you become acquainted, and you end up discovering what really goes on behind the scenes in the forms of glistening bodies and alcohol stains on your curves.â
⢠genre: smut with plot, 90â˛s setting
⢠warnings: dom!tae, big dick!tae, alcohol mentions, sexual tension, exhibitionism, dirty talk, mentions of orgies, condescending praise, sensory play, cum play, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, overstimulation
⢠pairing: taehyung/female reader ft. jimin
⢠wordcount: 18.4k words
ROCKSTAR AU.
The screams you hear are shrill, sounds that tighten into themselves and spread the growing anticipation for what is about to step on stage.Â
It wasnât a matter of who, it was a matter of when, and one of power. A supposed distraction which crawls too deep and makes it uncomfortable either wayâthe stretch of pulling yourself out of it too empty and painful, the time spent discovering more too consuming and a notch more demanding. Word travels around in big cities if your name carries enough weight, even faster if its heaviness comes from pure metal instead of the alloy they shape in the industry. The words reflect the effect, however unassuming they might be, and with the heavy riffs of a guitar supporting his every claim, itâs possible even for atheists to catch their glimpse of God.
Of course itâs not a matter of who, you chuckle, since thereâs only one person who can make everyone feel like this. With the weight of his name pressed against everybodyâs lips, a contained sound which catches between them and gets free reign as it is released, itâs easy to pinpoint how their teeth want to grip into it again. The gospels he put out, the ink he splattered and swallowed to build the charm into who he was and stain the raw talent so the corrupted could lose themselves in itâthey all served as contour for a distinct identity. His identity. Half boldness and half self-assurance, his rebellion is compelling to watch, since his mouth strictly speaks for his own and never caters. He sings for himself, never for you. But oh, do your loins catch fire when he puts on a show. Â
Itâs entirely lucky for him and fundamentally damning for you that after the four years in the spotlight, he not only owns up to, but deserves every bit of cockiness that he has.
On screen, he has the allure of an idealistic presence, but face to face the same V is tough to get used to. You would be at ease if you were one of the faces who followed after the motion of his hand, who got lost in a stare from him and lived as a subject of fantasy for the rest of the night, but the knowledge of your reality punctures the tissue of your lungs. It overwhelms you beyond your composed façade, the fact that the breaths you let out would burn under the stage lights and the ones you took couldnât offer you any stability, as each had to pass by his word. Constricted by the tips of his fingers and depth of his answers, the wait leaves you trapped and focused on nothing but himâand you have a feeling heâd love hearing all about it.
He said so himself, heâd always been a greedy man.
Even now, you are not doing anything, choosing to direct your focus on stifling your nerves; yet his presence leaves you intimidated. Lids closed, he rests on the guest chair, sitting alone before the artists rush to him, pampering his skin and blending dark shadow into his lashes. He still looks alone. A part of you wishes to speak to him, but youâre much too aware that at one wrong move, all eyes would be on you, his eyes would be on you. Despite the instructions you were given and how your head runs dizzy with filtering your thoughts, something deeper reaches and pulls at your essence: curiosity.
Curiosity in itself has been your rise and it won against the lack of both experience and exposure, which put you as a âfresh faceâ in television. Many stories swayed you and tempted you to search for their hidden meaning, for the side others will not even dare think to look for. Solving the riddle didnât satisfy you, finding its roots did. And Kim Taehyung, the man behind the notoriousness seemed to have buried his under a pile of personas he came to adapt in his life. The thing is, they all seem to contradict the man sitting a few feet away from you.
His silence is nostalgic. Â
It comes to you as a tender shock, since youâve been watching him for weeks prior to receiving your schedule, listened well to his past interviews and kept a careful eye on his mannerisms. Almost a year ago, the past spring season caught him in the last interview he would give before the one with you, head tilted as he stared the interviewer down with raised brows and tongue prodding at his lips. His posture was relaxed, yet his gaze held a different storyâthe game changed, as it does on stage when heâs singing; or rather playing.
He doesnât play with the honesty of those who lie behind closed doors but rather toys with it in a secret meant for your eyes, with the way he throws his head back and bends the way his microphone demands. Up close, his half-lidded gaze is unfocused yet untamed, and it moves towards an end only he knows. He grips all that is inanimate with the tightness of a viperâs fangs and reserves the delicacy of a lover for when he touches himself, fingers trailing from the ends of his mouth to his jaw and through his hair. More often than not, the actions make you wonder how it would feel if the nailbeds stained on his jawbone would be yours.
You need to know more, you realize in your haze, and despite your conscience, you straighten your top and push your shoulders back.
âV?â You approach him with mismatched steps, clipboard resting on your hip, over the high waist of your dress pants. âTen minutes till the interview. They are giving us twenty and weâre closing the show.â
The audience around the two of you clears out as you stand before him, taller in your heels as he slumps in the chair. Gone is the melancholic air once you make eye-contact, drive fuelling into his grin as the chains of his dangly earring catch the vanity lights. He looks every bit the sin he claims to be, far overstepping the sinner title.âGot it. Thank you for telling me.â
His words have you nodding, easy enough to shake off some of your anxiety but not to the point of letting your guard down. You purse your lips, feeling like youâre missing something despite being the one to schedule things around for your segments. Everything is too calm, and from your position, with him standing down it is unsettling, like a game of chess with the kings sat on their opposite colour. Then it hits you: itâs too empty, too intimate for a backstage meeting. The band who was supposed to perform with him at the end of your interview is not here, and neither are any of the main instruments. An acoustic guitar which is nothing like the electric beauties he uses in his concerts lays against the shelves of the vanity, cream wood against pristine white next to all black.
Your head comes up empty in its search for a way to ask him about it. âYour staffâŚthe band, theyââ
V stares at you with his head tilted as if heâs about to eat you whole. The glint in his eye is dangerous and it makes you feel like a prey put on display; only this time youâre playing yourself in front of him and he doesnât have to put a finger on it.
âOh, them?â he grinned. âThey had a little bit of a rough time last night, but I made sure to come and see you all face to face.â
From the rumours youâve heard about his backstage persona, him taking pity leaves you taken aback. Entertaining a feeling and seeing it solidified before you hit differently, you come to phantom after his words, as you thought you were prepared by studying him so much and even rehearsed what you would say to him. The pressure of doing well in your first interview made you overthink and analyse every possibility of how it might go. And youâre prepared, you swear you areâthe replies lie at the back of your throatâyet you canât say anything.
âIâm surprised,â he says and studies you, careful to drift your attention back. His facial expression changes quickly, adapting to your current emotion but his stability never wavers.âThere was no one to show me around here. In the other one they showed me the camera work, we sat and drank a bitâŚyou guys must be busy here.â
You turn like a toy on arches yet he stops you, gentle. âI wasnât asking you. Just making conversation, I wonât be here for long anyway.â
You bow your head, slumping your shoulders at his confessionâlike youâve been taught to behave around the stars here. Conflicting emotions settle in the pit of your stomach, a simmer of anger closing down on a thread thatâs stuck in your neck and prevents you from talking. His condescendingness is palpable, he is good at what he doesâhaving you start to dread your current position. A desire for more morphs in the heavy rise of your chest. You want more status, more power, to be considered beyond your position so you wouldnât have to bow to the likes of him or act as his entertainment.
âItâs such a shame, right? Not many people call me up for interviews nowadays. I canât seem to figure out whyâŚâ
He doesnât look at you, rather ponders on the questionsâequally demanding and mischievous, innocent enough so when cherubic eyes shift to yours, you are compelled to answer.
âWhy do you think that is?â
Your mouth closes on its own as you take him in, leather pants and dress coats, choker adorning his neck, caressed by the tips of his hair. Such a presence is the first to ask.
It startles you, since you were not paid for your opinions and they didnât weigh much either. Despite being displayed on television, you had little influence over those in higher positions. To know your supervisors are choking on the chains this man tugs on for the moment as they roll your little strings between the creases in their fingers makes you bold.
âI think⌠they donât know where to start with you,â you say, voice barely passing a whisper. Seeing how he doesnât stop you, a part of you pushes you further, the taste of disobedience lingering on the tip of your tongue and frustrations coming out through its flavour. âIt scares them that they donât know how to handle you.â
âAnd you do?â he challenges, getting out of his seat in slow movements. The balance acquired through your distance is thrown off and it leaves you more vulnerable as his weight settles in your personal space.âOr do you need more practice? You can ask your questions here too.â
Youâre pulled towards him with how his voice deepens and he plays with its inflexions. Youâve heard these in his concerts, how he dips into growling tones and tastes the ending syllables. Your eyes, captured by the metal resting on his collarbones switch to meet his, and so he switches to the gentleness of the whisper again. âIâll sit pretty for you while you ask. But I can only promise that if weâre here.â
âThereâs no camera here though,â you state, lost in the eye contact, lost in how your throat constricts when you watch how his mouth curves.
âWhat reason do I have to misbehave then?â
He is toying with you, mischief now clear in how he quirks his brow and smirks, the line of professionalism being pulled by its threads, and your heart thumps to the bass of his voice. The threat of a clock skims by since your heartbeat no longer follows its normal course, running erraticallyâover what, you donât know. The disobedience through your interaction flares up and directs itself towards him, and it builds in your chest, top too tight for the heavy breaths your taking.
âHow about me? What reason do I have to bother?â you throw, careless to how your words drown the established boundaries. You have no sense of repercussions. You wonder what heâs going to do next.
His lips purse as his eyes drift down before a chuckle leaves him, breathy sound meeting a restless tongue, as he runs it over his lip. Pause, break, exhale. Steps, composure, lungsââYouâre right. Who am I to demand this from you?â
âIâve been getting too comfortable. I take from others like they do to me,â he says it with a nonchalance which almost tricks you into thinking itâs a fact. âItâs not your responsibility to give into a brat like me, mm?â
The way heâs coming close to you, head tilted so his soft breath falls upon your cheek, instead of asking, itâs rather tempting you. You had a responsibility to keep your eye on him, you had plenty others to ensure a smooth flow, to avoid being overwhelmed on air where your slip would be replayed again and again. Giving into him, howeverâit was a voluntary action. He was merely suggesting to proceed.
You slowly shake your head, indications forgotten but still rooted deep within you, regrets sinking in at your impulsivity. You shouldâve been more careful, not get caught up in his presence since the stakes have already risen beyond your influence. So why are you still yearning to push further?
Always attentive and attuned, V seems to sense your hesitation, as he takes a step back. You canât discern between lines of arrogance and satisfaction on his face with the ease he may do it to youâreading into the conflict on your face. The contrast between the impersonality of his stage name and his interaction with you, how he asked for privacy upon sight, how he came to you⌠Who were you speaking to? The man, or a character?
His baritone keeps you alert, yet thereâs a tint of safety to it, of the privacy youâve been given since the beginning. And once again gentle syllables surround and silence your doubts.
âThereâs no reason to get involved. For you, Iâll behave.â He extends a hand for you to shake, and you take a moment to grasp his hand, to soak in how the long fingers engulf your own. âIf you promise to do it slower.â
You look up to him in question, but his voice doesnât waver.
âMy nameâŚâ he trails off as his thumb swipes across from your palm to yours, âYou should say it like you want me. Thatâs how it gets the charm.â
He winks and pulls away, teasing yet ever the unassuming in the way he claims the publicâs attention and bites into it. You follow after him on set, mentally preparing for whatâs to come when he plops on the couch, legs crossed and gaze ready to claim every inch of the gold in your veins. The cameras are set in front of you, on your left and right and above, though the most careful eye you want to catch is his.
âWelcome back to Late Night Blues!â you grin as the framework zooms out, catching more of the background and bringing light to the couch your guest was leaning on.âNow that weâve covered the latest pop-sensation news, for our last segment, weâll sit down with popular singing figure V and look back on his latest albumâChaos and Disorder.â
You ensure your voice slows down at the mention of his name. Your confidence returns as you spot how he further relaxes into his pose, thighs spread and elbows resting by his sides. Heâs watching you with his head tilted, lashes fluttering as you continue your introduction. âChaos and Disorder, the sixth album of his career and the fourth to be attributed to V has sold no less than four million copies, three months after its release. This is a huge step from the latest album, which neared a million in eight months and saw an additional five-month hiatus.â He nods at your mention of past achievements, brow rising to tease. âHow does it feel to have such a reception not even half a decade into your career?â
V pauses, chest rising with the deliberate breath heâs taking and the joviality on his features melts in the slightest under the heat of your question. âLooking at the pictures and flashbacks over the years, itâsâŚitâs a little surreal, not gonna lie. I mean, my songs are received well, Iâve established my style and I have a clear direction of where I want to go from here. Iâm not scared to experimentâIâm doing what I was born to do and I get paid for it, does it get better than that?â
You laugh, and itâs laced with genuineness once you catch his confident expression. âSounds like the dream life. Are you any closer to it, or has anything changed with your most recent release?â
âWell, not much has changedâIâm keeping it like itâs been. Iâm constantly evolving, trying to look on my whole being and reflect on what I want to do better for the next time.â
âItâs rare for a musician to be praised by media and be so loved by fans throughout the years. There have been other acts to approach the same subjects as you do in your music, but itâs a rare instance to get such a wave of support, especially as you continued on with your new stage name.â You can sense the waves of truth through your questionâs blinds, your own curiosity having you lean in moreâthe effect of his presence is an internalized fact.
The industry in itself always seeks for profit, engagement and shock value, and the ways of achieving it are rarely held in moral qualms. Yet, despite its nature, it pushes against acts promoting too much deviation from the norms, though along with his arrival, the aesthetic gained more popularity. The tabloids like him a little too much and they exploit him with the same controlled vigour, praise every line he sings and every line of skin the leather doesnât cover. It should have eaten him, should have manipulated his essence and disturbed the covalence of his atoms till this momentâif only he wouldnât fight against it.
âIâm happy they like me for now, theyâtheyâre very passionate. Instrumental does half my job though, if they keep praising me and my voice itâs gonna get to my head.â He chuckles, shaking his head as if he takes his time to bring the thought back onto the surface.âWhat are we gonna do when my pride gets too big for my body, when I start to think I really am special?â
âIt could become a thing theyâll love you for,â you say as you shrug, slight pout crossing your features, and he nods in acknowledgement at your posture. Your shoulders are high, propelled by the reminder of your ability to stay in character after your backstage conversation. âThe interest in going against the norms in different domains has even been documented by your fans through polaroids of their creations. Theyâre even mimicking your pose, and the choice seems to be popularâwhat made you take the step from your real name to this? Does it have a relation to the peace symbol?â
âMm, so many questionsâŚâ he ponders, eyebrows furrowing yet there is no trace of malice in his words. âPeace is not a common theme in my songs though. I donât know if itâs a good example, but itâs a nice juxtaposition, using such a symbol to say âfuck youâ to whatever youâre given, whether itâs on air or not.â He makes sure to match the emphasis with a grin which widens till itâs all teeth, glints of mischief reflecting as he strums the chords of permission with his words. Heâs probably satisfied with your cracked composure when he sees you taking a deep breath at his cursing, already picturing your directorâs face at his disrespectâand the fine about to follow.
You remember his last hiatus, how they milked his name until they ran out of news and ways to market his style. No new club appearances or ads, no encounter with the media that would soil his image, no proof to adhere to the rumours about his notorious behind the scenes life, followed by the silence that came in February. The layer of quietness shredded to pieces as the explosion of his last album ripped into the general public. A break again, no words to the media, until your interview which was losing track the more he spoke, the more he ripped into you too.
It must be natural for him to misbehave, to strive for a tight grip on the attention heâs given, and heâs working it however he wants to. Even as the brattiness he used to display is making itself visible in tight-lipped smiles and head tilts, it doesnât hold much of a bite. Innocence sits pretty on his cheekbones and runs through a body thatâs chiselled and polished from every angleâand his voice, his speech patterns never disappoint either. Youâd let him talk as he pleases if this was any other situation, but youâre much too aware of the eyes following you, the neutral figures behind the scenes who donât watchâthey scrutinize.
âSo yeah, feels good that guys like me are the backbone of our genre right now and I get the opportunity to tear the house down while still having people openly supporting my message,â he adds in response to your silence, and you suppose he means it as comfort.
Your eyes switch between him, the camera and the dark backstage background, fidgeting in your seat to process the rest of the lines you lost as his answer came. The loss of control has you vulnerable, and your muscles lock into themselves, constant pressure leaving your hands rooted on the cards. The idea of forgoing them entertains the rotten part of your conscience, and you choose to ignore the bullet points laid in the middle, jumping instead to the next section.
âWith such a broad range of tracks with influences in R&B and funk, itâs hard to classify your music in one genre. Youâre constantly experimenting with new sounds and vocals, is there any space left for reflecting yourself or who you want to be in your lyrics?â Despite being sudden, the transitions you use to fill the gap sound natural to your ears, and the thread of your story is steady, leading up to the more pressing questions assignedâthatâs until it splits.
âI donât know about that, youâll have to tell me.â He shifts from his position, crossing his legs and redirecting his attention to you. The distance between you does not shiftâitâs the implications which seep through his casual tone that make it so intimidating. âYou know me wellâyou did your homework, right?â
The balance sways too much and ends up bending to his corner, down to its foundation. He is too relaxed, too confident, while you are too scared to breathe. You now understand why he accepted the interview instead of turning it down like he has done with those he received in the last months. Youâre confident in your belief, yet his tone sets off a range of possibilities running through your head regarding what he might continue with. None of them are clear to discern between, but they can somehow prepare you for his next hit.
âThose of you in the media assume you know me best, no? I could play any tune and Iâm sure one of you can spot whatâs made up and whatâs really me,â he tells with the same calamity and inflections from the sphere of truth, which would make one believe and comply. âYou wouldnât waste your time writing all those articles if you didnât.â
âAre you thinking about if you were to play something for us?â Youâre treading on thin ice, but he is nonchalant even as he is confronted with your question, though the glint in his eye says otherwise.
Heâs caught on.
âYeah, âcourseâŚif I were to play. Fine, Iâll play something for you.â Faster than youâd expect, he picks up the same acoustic guitar at his feet before settling it in his lap. âAny preference? Anything that you love?â
âIâŚI Rock, Therefore I am,â you say, and youâre surprised at how stable your voice comes out. Your choice could never reach his level of boldness and neither could it reach your previous one, but it has risen since you have started. You brought to light a track which is essential to him and his message, while still coming back to the album in question. Youâre doing anything you can to give continuity to your interview, to constrain his deviation and criticism even though it doesnât have to do with you, and it is more than transparent.
âMmm, thatâs a good one.â He nods, licking his lips as he pats the guitar in a similar rhythm. âI could accompany you, since nobodyâs gonna focus on me with you here. Would you like to sing?â
You pause, looking at him with wide eyes. âButâŚbut Iâm not a singer.â
âNeither am I,â and the way he challenges you as heâs beaming sets your loins on fire.
âIâI donât know what to do. Iâm sitting with such a presence, and heâs the one telling me to sing,â you stutter as nervous laughter bubbles in your throat. The thought is so ridiculous you are even admitting to vulnerability, certain that he is toying with you again. You stare at him, bottom lip caught between your teeth as the hint of a smile plays on his own and gods, he is beautiful. All delicate features and sharp corners, tight grips and careful fingers, who could say no to him?
You shake your head, overwhelmed tears glossing over your eyes, structures tinted by admiration disbelief shaping your confession: âYouâre killing me.â
âThatâs the idea.â He chuckles, brightening up, and the creases near his eyes deepen as he urges you on. âGive me a little, come on.â
The melody starts, and the temptation to get lost in it thrums under your skin, sinking part of your doubts in a muted place. As of now, he is commanding your limitations, and his demand is too innocent to further cause you trouble. Previous instructions made you approach him with such hesitation, told you to comply with his wishes and not press him too much about them. But what were you supposed to do when he was telling you to take the spotlight from him in a set put together to serve an opposite purpose?
In a soft murmur, you begin the first verse after the chorus, foot tapping the floor cautiously as you fixate on himâwaiting for his reaction.
âThere we go. Let it out, sugar.â He continues strumming, bobbing his head to as you end the verse before youâre tongue-twisting your words as you near a faster part. âGood, goodâthis is way more fun than those stupid photoshoots.â
You giggle into your hand, beyond embarrassed at what you did, so much that it drowns your sense of the current reality. What comes next is allowed without much thinking. âHow did you end up there?â
âMy manager wanted the extra promo and hey, money is money.â He shrugs. âI need something to fall back on in case this whole singing thing ends up failing me. Might have to work a little on my body for photo shoots, but I think I have the face for it. What about you?â
From your peripheral vision, you see the main cameraman raise his hand, fingers splayed out and signalling the five-minute warning, and any intention to answer dies in your throat. The lightheartedness shared between the two of you vanishes without any trace and the previous pressure lays over the back of your head and bends your vertebras bit by bit.
You peek at the script, checking on what you already knew. Sure, you enjoy listening to him, he has cooperated for a majority of your time together, heâs answering your questionsâjust not in the way you anticipated. He starts off with your lead, yet he turns it around just as fast, reminding you of the rhythm and bass in his songs, the crescendo that he builds and drops at his own will.
One part of the flashcard youâre holding threatens to rip, you realise as your grip tightens more and more and the paper holds no real barrier against pain. The tips of your nails dig into your palm and the foundation for the smile you have built shatters the more you realise you could never reach a balance. None of it made sense with your current situation.
Pleasing the directors meant filled-out grins that were unmovable, thoughts already printed and the cover of undivided attention as you rehearse what youâre told. You had no real basis on your guesses of what pleasing V meant, but it came clear that he didnât sit well with rehearsed ideas by how he eyes your mouth. More time is ticking away, counted with the beats of red in the camera lights. Itâs ironic how before even considering him for an interview, youâve pushed for more freedom in your interaction, and now that it came to you without meaning to, it forces you to reconsider your position. Your stomach sinks the more your grin lifts.
And at once, it drops. You nod to yourself, almost frantic, and you have no conscience of disturbing your hairstyle or the golden pins in your hair. Youâre hyper-aware of everything thatâs keeping parts of you in place, and instead of building composure, this time they have you hesitant and self-conscious. Even the way your heel sinks into the floor has your balance offâthereâs nothing natural about how youâre sitting, back straight and chest pushed out. The imposing status which came with performing these acts leaves you bit by bit, and you sink with the weight in his stare. Heâs expecting more.
You recall your next lines, you are supposed to ask him about future collaborations, youâre supposed to ask about him feeling threatened by rising stars, but the transition sounds wrong to your ears. Who out there is doing things like him? Who has a more distinct identity, who sits on top of the balance between brattiness and maturity? He would never feel threatened. You canât find it in yourself to believe, so with the utmost care, you move your shaky hands from your lap and put the script down, ignoring the anxiety which flares up in your gut.
What about you?
âOf course you do,â you breathe out. âIt would be a pity though, seeing how well youâre doing now.â
âHey, Iâm talking about you too. Thatâs a face you want to capture, Iâm sure the audience agrees.â
His compliment stirs up the same simmering warmth, but you remain impassive, your goal now becoming clear in your mind. âMy influence is nowhere near yours, I won't have a lot to give up. You're sharing a lot with this album, expressing your wishes and reprimanding current society. Is the title connected to your vision, to what you'd like to see as a future for us?â
âPartially? Chaos and disorder, fame and surrenderâŚthose are things you have to experience for yourself before daring to speak out. Theyâre ideals, fulfillmentsâwell, in a sense.â His candour sets a new spiral of hope within you, glazed with uncertaintyâyou feel you should stop hoping as if you know him. These feelings would soon vanish, you recognise, but now they are your main influence, and all you feel a sense of is hurt at how easy you are for him.âWhen you want to reach any of these, you give too much of yourself, and thereâs always the chance to feel empty once you did. And it's...it's one of those things you're wishing but you're also scared of.â
You donât know him, you donâtâ
âDid you have those thoughts when you released your first songs? Speaking from experience?â you ask as if youâre testing the syllables for the first time.âYour style changed over the course of the albums, even your instrumental, theâthe sounds refer to different emotionsâŚâ
It is his turn to remain quiet, to gaze at you like he depends on you to give more so he has the courage to answer. His eagerness slips from him like sand and it pours on your fingertips, and you wish to pry further into the space he let you open.
âDid anything⌠did the inspiration arise from your lifestyle?â
âMy lifestyle?â he grimaces. He grips his sheer shirt, pulling it to cover his sternum. âWhat do you mean?â
âTalking about your first release, Stigma. The feelings of resentment and not being worthy made your audience empathize and relate to it, aââ
âDid you?â Heâs focused on you, any hint of the teasing he has been playing with gone. Confident demeanours evaporate, and youâre met with an image youâre seeing for the first timeâhe doesnât match the image of a notorious rockstar, he looks like the songâs writer awaiting your verdict.
Stigma, such a personal piece, released as a studio version in his early twenties. The melody you listened to until the pieces of glass in his chest grew into yours and brought conflicting emotions, desires of forgiveness. The ode missing any rights to say sorry, for abandoning and being unable to protect, which is too far from the man in front of you. The one who a spotless image and has no care in the world about who he touches. If he was closer, youâd tell him all about it, explain in your best terms how it touched you. Youâd further consider the possibility that he hasnât changed much from the man he was then, emanating the same warmth. Youâd soften your gaze and let your mouth fall open the way it should without time stopping cold.
Instead of pinning you with his stare, you imagine heâd smile and mirror your expression. He wouldnât make your sphere this small, like he wants to take from you and only for himself. Heâs not downplaying his intensity, almost pleading with you to answer, like it was a moment shared between the two of you and nothing else, like he needed your answer. He doesnât budge. He waits and wants.
âWhat do you need forgiveness for?â
And when youâre too scared to give, he still speaks.
You don't want to break yourself apart from this moment, content with the tension and the constriction in your chest as it is allowing you to see bits of him not yet explored. Your silence makes you feel you went too far to keep him close, built the same hope to him, as your willingness to tell him about it scatters. There's not enough time to explore his true depth, no time for you to open up and bloom as he must have liked. Two fingers up serve as a reminder that your conversation is nearing its end, and you're hyper-aware of it, lips rubbing against each other and pulling bits of lipstick off their creases.
âIt's a lot... a lot of responsibilities that I've neglected,â you say because you can't find it in yourself to leave him empty and he carefully follows your trail. âDo you think itâs a responsibility now? That youâre the face of a genre right now, are you pressured to put out songs that deliver strong messages?â
What you wished to avoid on your part manifests upon his, as his mouth opens in recognition and his body falls back on its ordinary, relaxed position, at the same distance it was in the beginning.
âResponsibility? It sure doesnât feel like one. Freedom and responsibilityâtheyâre not tied together. I have no sense to be a role model, but if the public takes my actions, my lyrics and makes them into something freeing, then all props to them. That doesnât have to do with me personally.â
âWhat should we expect for this year? Is promotion going to continue with no televised appearances or are we looking at another possible hiatus?â
âYou'll have to wait and see, but IâŚI wouldnât call it a hiatus. Iâm never far enough from music to say Iâm taking a break from it. Iâm still gonna sing, Iâm still gonna write.â He looks away from the cameras, head leaning on his handââI just leave it for me sometimes.â
The last finger up rushes you to the written ending, gazing for one last time at V, but your previous excitement is replaced by something more demure whose rise blossoms from underneath your vocal cords.
âWhat a way to end this. Thank you to V for joining us here today, and thank you to everyone else at home watching. Make sure to tune in next Friday for more in-depth looks at our latest stars! Have a good night!â
He stares at you, forgetting any acknowledgement of your mention, and while you get up to bow, he remains seated. You don't stay and question, choosing to have this moment for yourself, to collect your breath before you walk backstage. As you reach your corner, you squeeze your eyes shut, wasting no time to take your blazer off and hug your shoulders, letting your head rest in that space. It doesn't erase the past hour in its entirety, but it silences your thoughts, and you're grateful for the moment of silence you get as the rest of the crew wraps up for the day.
The volume rises with your guest's voice again and you turn around to follow the sound, âPD! What a great choice youâve made with this one!â
He says his congratulations as he grasps the man's hand and shakes it once, impassive. âThank you for having me on your show, I look forward to working with you in the future,â His attention switches to you as he notices you staring back, and he makes a point to pat your director's shoulder before dropping it entirely, âIf youâll allow me, Iâd like to congratulate our interviewer too. Don't want to keep all of you for too much.â
The same hand hovers over the small of your back as you lead him back to your vanity, and it only grips when you're under the safety of the lights and his body covers you from the rest of the scene.
âBefore more pleasantries, I want to know whose idea was it to ask those questions? And don't lie to me.â His gaze is intense, yet his demeanour screams calm to the point where even his demand sounds gentle. âWas it you?â
âIâŚwellâŚthe writers are the ones responsible for my speech, but I was curious too,â you say as your eyes linger on the ground. âYou gave me a hard time. I had to ask things of my own since none of the ones from before were working.â
He nods as if he takes it all in, and you switch back to him, wanting to grasp his expressions, understand his actions better.
âCurious too, huh...Did I satisfy?â He quirks an eyebrow at you, tongue prodding at his cheek. âOr would you like to know more?â
âI...of course I want to.â
âIâd like you to have dinner with me. Have more with me.â Heâs testing your reaction more, next words slow and languid as they roll off his tongue, âWould you?â
âAre you⌠are yââŚâ
âIf youâll take me.â
You donât register what comes first, your nod or how he grins before gripping your hands and bringing them to his lips, quick, grateful. No longer are you surprised at how your heart jumps, you find the feeling pleasingâafter all, it's better not to worry about it. There are much more putrid thoughts eating at you.
You never know what to expect from him, and you guess it's one of the things that incited you the most about him. It left space for you to make your assumptions, to twist the narrative in any way you liked about his stare, his intentions. His contribution, the invitation he extended rose hopes for you to give new meanings to his actions and mould yourself from those pointers in the time you spent away.
You talked to him for such a short time, yet it was enough for you to wonder. You wondered why and where he would take you, if he would choose places which suited his fine taste or matched the raw core of his character. If he wanted his girls like he guided his grip, a little caught up and tight around the edges or loose and ready to move with his flow. If he left enough space for you to squeeze deeper within the cracks you have scratched across his surface.
An address and a time is all that has been given to you, and you should be more nervous, since you were left in obscurity for the most part of this meeting, but all you feel is a thrill that moves along your spine and makes your chest rise up and your smile widen. You had no qualms yet regarding what he needed from you, and you found that in moments where your face wasn't grazing his line of vision he wasn't too keen on revealing more. It did not bother you, since youâve seen him more in passing, a word here, a promise and a thankful smile there. He mentioned how he would love for you to meet him soon since he'll be leaving town in the next two weeks to perform at the Arts Center. You can't blame him for his decisions, you really can't, because he needed the privacy, and hadnât it been for his clear sincerity, the depth of his words would have risen and vanished like smoke later when you lost sight of him.
It was an interaction which needed you to be close, needed you to speak it into the existence in the rhythm of his exhales, or else the string would be broken and the linearity of him opening up further would lose its path. The invitation was there, no shame or misunderstandings: he knew he was the lock and you the key, and he dared for nothing else than you opening him up yourself.
That's how you chose to go for now, sure and easy to open, had everything loose on you as opposed to the constriction you felt in your first interaction, part from the clothing and part from him. You smooth over the material of your two piece as you step out of the taxi and into the lobby of a four-star hotel with the same uncertainty you felt upon approaching him; only that this time it diminishes when you catch sight of the same metallic choker, sat over the dip between his exposed collarbones.
Taehyung raises from his seat when he spots you, a tint of a smirk gracing his lips when his gaze follows the curve of your hip and falls into the nets of your stockings.
âIâll have to apologise,â he muses as his hand hovers over your waist in the same way he did before, fingers brushing against it only serving to make you more alert. âA rundown bar full of beer and rowdy bikers is more my style, but all of them were closed. I hope this will do.â
âDisappointing indeed. I didn't take you for a man with such elegant tastes,â you say, yet your tone is teasingâhe had all the ground to represent any style, class or level of luxury there was. And by the fine silk that gave peeks to the planes of his chest and his smooth stomach, there was no doubt he loved to be surrounded by the same delicacy that his voice gave into the world.
âBut I'm standing with you, aren't I?â He slows his step as he leads you towards the elevator, pushing the button for the secluded area on the second floor. The gold of the chandeliers and dark of the night painted between the window frames accentuate the atmosphere, making his words sound all that more intimate. âAnd I still want to sit with you. I say I'd need a little taste for that.â
You cater to his wish with a smile and he lets you pick where the two of you will sit. The place is crowded for this hour, and you find yourself at ease withinâthere are not many faces paying attention to you, most who do choose to watch are glued on V. On Taehyung. The Taehyung who left his leather in his closet for a shirt opened at the first two buttons. Each wrist tinks with the gold he wears around it, complementary with the fine chain that starts at his cartilage and meets the diamond stud on his earlobe. The colours only serve to complement his tan skin, a portrait of holy aura which shifts its focal point when he takes a glass of champagne from the tray and returns in your proximity.
âIs this usual, or did you need a change of scenery for now?â Now. The moment where you're closer to him than before, where you sit on stools next to each other and wonder out loud, part confirmation, part you wanting to know more about him, to hear him talk and never stop.
âHow much is this for another interview?â he retorts, fingers rubbing the glass surface of the counter as he leans his head into his left hand, eyes on you. Mischief suits him well and paints a splitting image of a poster problem child for all the right reasons. You lick your lips as you watch him, pondering on the right answer when he changes the game, plays you as he likes, âThen how much do you want to know me?â
âI...I told you already. I was curious too,â you pout, chest constricting for the same right reasons and this time you can't control it. You had an eagerness about you which you didn't explore till now, didn't know yourself how much it aches when you let it free and youâre met with the wrong reaction. Sure, you were young and starry-eyed and willing to be swayed, a dream for the producers out thereâbut too much eagerness also showed inexperience you wished to avoid.âI could ask the same about you.â
The pure that Taehyung saw in you comes and goes, and he hopes he can see it clear enough to cut through and sink his teeth into it. This game that you're playing, the bits of vulnerability that you give him, they all serve to tease him, to pull him in more. He knows how the rules work and does not mind bending to them as long as it meant more of you. He's looking to prompt you, get the things you want from him out of you, so he lets out a soft 'oh?' and waits for your reaction, waits for you to continue.
âYou...you didn't invite me here for nothing,â you whisper, fiddling with your thumbs as you lean in more as if you're telling him a secret he sees as endearing. âYou want to find something out as well.â
âAnd if I do?â He chuckles, tongue toying with the edge of his canine, making a show of the syllables that make his mouth gape. âWill you be nice and tell me what I need?â
Your career path has led you into being taught what to say, and your mind doesn't grasp all the meanings in his message and the speed at which he turns things around. Without a clear string, it's too easy to get lost in him, to say yes baby, I'll do what you ask. He doesnât try much though, and you suppose itâs a trait quintessential to him since you havenât seen anyone behave similarly in recent years.
Because of him starting at your current age, the four years of experience place him ahead of you in the search for answers. The bits and pieces you found about his private life, you discovered heâs never tried to flaunt his experience to anyoneâbut in the league he is in, you imagine he is not lead by his impulses with the ease that you are.
A fight for control from two different sides of you, that's what it is, in which imitating his game is too dangerous but letting him win is overwhelming to your senses.
âWords,â he reminds with sweetness pouring out with every hit of tongue on the roof of his mouth.
One beat, then another.
âI made the time,â is what he says when you remain quiet, âI wanted this. All I ask is for you to talk to me.â
âWhat would you like then?â You tiptoe on a high edge, one which gives him far more reign than you have wished for.
âI'll let you ask your questions, answer the best I can,â he suggests, the steps pleasant to your ears. âThen I'll ask mine. I only want your honesty. Can you do that for me?â
The intensity of his gaze, laced pretty in carefulness has your shyness taking over and your head dropping down to stare at how you continue to play with your hands that are grazed by his long fingers. Other times, his touch served to bring your focus back to him, but now you concentrate on the opportunity he offered as his fingertips linger on your skin.
âWhat made you take that step?â you make eye-contact when you're sure your voice doesn't waver. âYou had a stable career, not the best. But how could you know breaking off from your label was the best option? You had enough there.â
Your breath leaves you at once in a mirror gesture of his, since you're aware you dipped into the curiosity of others before you, the one he was asked at his past interview. The one where he made sure the media didn't toy with his boundaries, answers echoing deep within the man who overstepped his status. V stared at him with a fire untamed, questioned about the other's worth to talk to him in such a way, and the same fire is reflecting against you, only that it burns in both his hazy eyes and your belly.
âThat's a little personal,â he comments, and his fingers squeeze your own. âAre you sure it's worth it?â
You know you made a bold move, maybe even too bold for you, but the impulse does not care about the implication. The rough edges and insistence to never cater brought you to him, and in his way, he was an inspiration, a dream forbidden for ordinary people like you. In his way, he ended up laying a foundation where youâre free to live through him as you wishâand you needed to further your fantasy.
âI followed their ways,â he begins with a calamity uncharacteristic to how he's looking at you right now. âAnd I'm not saying that they're bad, but in time I realized my way was the best way. I got to that point where I was comfortable with them telling me what to do and what to write because I had a promise it'll be well.â
âAnd it was.â
âBut it wasn't what I wanted to do. On stage, what you see, that's part of me. I didn't want to sell it, to act and be a character, and I...â His stare is blank as he ponders over his thoughts before the corners of his mouth rise on arches, and the core of his composure changes, lifted to his usual spirits once again. âWhat you see is what you get.â
It's a surprise to you how it hurts. Your past assumptions match his description and with the discovery, you feel like too much of a familiar for him, a place you were never supposed to reach in any daydream of yours. You couldn't have anticipated anything close to it, for him to speak to you with such candour, but, unlike you, boldness has always been a trait of his. Chains pull at your heart's desire and deep down you wish for him to stop, but the temptation, the stakes, they're all too high, and the possibility of him telling the truth, you can'tâ
You can't stop now.
You lean in, and your hand slithers under his so that yours is now half-covered by gentle fingers. âWe saw a different side of you before that. We saw Taehyung, the music you made before, the vulnerabilityââ
He hisses at the mention of his real name but doesn't press it further, too caught up in you. âThose are me too. But it's not what the public wishes to see until way later. Why shouldn't I have fun then? I'm not stupid, Iââ
âYou didn't seem to care about it when you started out,â you interrupt, a habit unheard of from your part coming to light because of images of the man you admired, the one on stage and the one in front of you not matching.
âI didn't know a thing when I started out. I didn't care about implications or labels or processes, I wanted to sing. They sure were quick to tell what they thought about that.â Patience hasn't been a nice cloth for him, and now it wears him down, trying to hold down the revolt simmering under his skin. His tone remains gentle, but you pick up on how he is abstaining from saying more.
âI didn't know I'd make music on demand and that I'd be either ogled or treated like I'm loitering. The label didn't anticipate for me to be the teenage girl's dream or some rebellion the tabloids get to write articles about.â
âBut the attention you get...do you hate it?â You're aware of the superficiality of your questions, but you don't have enough experience or knowledge about him to add anything of value. You hope for him to continue.
âI don't. I like that my word has worth. I don't like that I had to compromise and give up songs with emotional value. I hate that I can't have an actual impact unless I act upon this part of my personality.â
âI don't understand.â The assumptions you made and narrative you pushed for yourself make it impossible to wrap your head around him telling you he wanted to continue the way you did. The route he's taken is plausible by itself, but with his attitude and his image in mind, with what he is presenting, you'd associate it with anyone else but him.
âWhat is so hard? They don't care about my emotions for now. No one made a career out of feelings.â The air he takes tastes bitter, and it's obvious by how it filters through his clenched teeth. âThey'll be happy to see me in a scandal, b...break down a little, and I can't stand for it. Better to let it out early than have it be my downfall later.â
The single word sounds foreign to your ears in the situation where you allow for the both of you and no one else. They, he says, but you have a feeling it's half meant for you as well. You have no time for offence, his guilt is your guiltâyou spoke in plural too, when you were too scared to speak for your own person. When you wished to detach yourself from the situation, to take the blame and place it onto others, onto another evil which would minimize your own interest.
Thoughts of personal feelings mingling with those which said your curiosity rose from the media's obsessionâjust like the others. It makes the situation blurry. Maybe you were a copycat looking to get her entertainment, maybe your head was empty and you'd get your excitement from the exploitation of his emotions. Maybe you saw a distorted image of yourself in him, one who instead of wondering and searching attempted to act and not let herself be pushed around.
Your job, your status, your inferiority in mediaânone of those had to do with anything you were asking right now. You craved to know for yourself, and the realisation sets another ache in your chest. What made it such a thrill that at the slightest loss of composure you would do anything to keep pushing once the barriers were lost?
For what did you need to always go deeper, and why did it satisfy you so much, pushing his buttons further until he snapped?
âYou can't know if that's true.â
âHumour me, how many people would have listened then? Two? Thirty at best?â He shrugs, reminiscing of his teasing aura, yet stiffness is palpable in his movements. âI don't take directions from anyone in what I say or the person I am. Beyond that...â
He sighs and leans into his free hand, and the action further brings him in your line of vision.
âI'll be kind and say it's up to the audience.â The grin he gives resembles the mannerisms of the puppet he makes himself seem as it is pulled up against his will. âMy job? I talk back, I sing, I make my money. That's all.â
The lines supposed to differentiate you from the mass of his supporters blur, since there was comfort in anonymity, in making statements which cannot be traced back to you. Before you can ponder more over your decision, you find yourself speaking.
âNo, that's not what the audience asks for. They want a model for those with attitude, a reason to justify their actions. They can watch you, grow with you and if you succeed, they'll think they're the ones who made it.â
âI'm not looking for that.â
âIt's not about what youââ are looking for, but it dies on your lips. There is pain and truth in how the public doesn't care, each selfish in their own purposes, as it was what all of you were made of. Dreaming and chasing an industry that benefits off exploiting your being, for the illusion of spotlight. To assure you will not be forgotten.
Thatâs what you craved as well, why you are pursuing your career and why for the first months, your satisfaction with your job has been held constant. Seeds of doubt blossomed here and there, yet none of them grew enough to have you fully awareâuntil him. You felt it with him, what it means for the light to be on too long, for the things you meant to be private to burn under the watchful eye of hundreds.
You canât say how much you have left, but with how he has been holding on, he still has a say in it.
âGuess I've been lucky then, huh?â In this position, luck was subjective. With the minor role you have, your actions will never be justified the same or thought of as your original intentions. For him, whether he plays nice or not, there will always be reasons to defend and despise him for, no matter if heâll ever do it again. âLiving with the idea that I get to decide what matters. That's not the case.â
His reaction is not entirely triggered by you, but also the obsession regarding ownership of his work, with releasing music on his terms and at the time he felt like it. Topics of money were mentioned, but you're sure there was no issue with money from his side, and your theory is validated by the lack of articles about royalty scandals in the last two years. Irony seeps through the cracks whose foundation crumbles more and more.
âYou might be right. Did they tell you to say this for confirmation?â
âNobodyâs telling me what to do,â you huff in indignation before your body takes a more mellow stance, âItâs just⌠Itâs how it works. Always about them.â
âYou think you know what this is about?â he prompts, and panic settles in your gut, mixing with rotten curiosity when you spot how his jaw ticks.
Chaos and disorder, fame and surrender, you need to experience those for yourself before you speak out.
âIâI learned a thing or two.â Of course, it's nowhere near what he learned, but you have your pride, you have to fight to reach his level. Fame is the only thing that's missing from your list, as living in the sphere of disorder comes with the erratic hours of your job. Itâs not about having similar experiences though, itâs about drowning another boundary, one for which you're purposefully provoking him.
âIs it enough for you to talk to me like that?â He furrows his brows as he speaks, and you'd take it for a display of superiority if it weren't for the desperate edge in his tone, one which tells you he is demanding the respect he deserves. âI don't get it. What do you want to see in me?â
He doesn't let you answer when he sees you hesitating, prompted by your lack of self-assurance, by how you can't own up to the things you ask.
âAre you not the same?â He continues, but instead of the rebellion he accustomed you to, he sounds defeated. âYou're also in the public eye. Did you think it would be different for you? There you have it, what happens when you grow.â
Throat stuck with thorns, you struggle to get the words out. âI'll never be like you. Our fields, our personalities... they're different. There's no one to back me up if I don't move as they like.â
No one. Your face falls when you realise your mistake, realise how you denied it in front of him. He had the status to afford to mess with you and leave you the consequences to sink into. With time taken to reflect, you don't see him as the shadow of a persona. You're sure about who he is now, the one who challenged you and provided you with the safety to get out of the norms he kept breaking.
âThen why ask in the first place? Why go off track? I got the script beforehand, the dog got on his knees for me to be on his show,â he retorts, careless at how anger and disbelief pour out of his mouth with the loss of composure. He looks lost as he switches from you and returns, he is searching your eyes for an explanation. âWas it some sort of plan? I knew everything you were gonna ask, I thought there would be no more surprises, butââ
âBut?â you press, newfound desperation making its way through you and pulling you towards Taehyung. V. You can't comprehend the single letter anymore, don't care about whatever peace symbol or the relations, part of your past which brought you here is erased. You care for now, for him, for Taehyung.
Taehyung. His name is so pretty. Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.
âWhy?â
âBecause Iâbecause theyââ You babble, too lost into chasing more of him, elbow sliding on the counter as you lean closerâuntil you're centimetres away from his face. Your thoughts turn frantic when you see his head down and hear nothing else from him, and you're reminded of the same nostalgia you saw backstage the first timeâhow more than ever you want to soothe it. You're scared to touch him, to offend or unnerve or do anything which would bring him back to you when you don't have the right words to mend his ache.
There's so much to say, how they never planned to make such an effort, how it was you and your curiosity and no rehearsed plan could have saved you since he was too much for you to handle. You gulp, throat dry and incapable of more when you hear his shaky exhale. It pains your heart and your breath when you force yourself to whisper, yet all you manage is a whimper when he looks up, hazy eyes staying open for one last moment before his forehead softly falls against your own,
and your world shuts.
His shaky hand reaches out, but it never ends up touching you. The shadow of his figure falls upon your exposed skinâyou see it when you look down to hold onto the last bit of control you still had. Â The brightness of your dress deepens into a much sultrier colour where his shadow brushes it, and he gasps when he sees the same connection. He's lost, and that leaves only innocence on his features, innocence that screams his need for guidance and begs your palm to settle on his neck. You crave for nothing more than to steady him, though all your touch does is bring him closer. With his lips hovering over your own, your heart breaks and falls into the pit of your stomach where it melts into heat. Why, why, why.
âWhy me? Why are you not leaving me alone?â
He is too much, too close for you to think of anything else and it weighs on your conscience, manifests as a visceral press on everything that made you whole. The syllables sound broken, whispered in a breath you swallow as you lean in more, thumb stinging with the sensitivity of the touch when it brushes against his bottom lip. He has given it to you. Whatever state of mind or information you needed from him, he has given it up in place of being raw and open for you despite your ties with a world looking to break him apart. It's hard for you to pin what he expects from you now, if he expects pride to swell in your chest instead of the ache building in your core. You can't think beyond this moment, you can't care about anything else.
You want to kiss him. You want it so bad.
âI have no responsibility towards anyone, I don't owe anyone anything. Just like you had no responsibility to deal with my tantrums and how you still have no responsibility to give into me.â His lips tremble, and you catch the movement, fixed on nothing else but his open mouth and the laboured breaths he's taking. âYou'll only do it if you want to. Why is it so hard to understand,â
âI'm sorry,â and you hope the broken words can convey their meaning. The distance cuts through you with the realisation of how far you are from attempting to seal it with a kiss.âYou don't seem to take yourself that seriously, maybe it's why everyone assumedââ
âBut that's what I'm doing. I am looking for someone that can take me seriously.â
You're locked in the sensation, locked up with the anticipation which prolongs the moment and you wait for the trigger to be pulled. He presses on, but the effect never comes.
"Oh, in that case, IâI'm..." you mumble, lost when your expectations aren't met but Taehyung silences any apologies you had when you feel his hands on you.
He cups your cheek with the utmost care, and it's unclear whether he wants to bring you back to earth or to bring you closer so that his mouth swallows the breaths you've been taking over his bitten lips. His hand glides up and down, uncertain in its movements as it descends to your neck, one step away from covering it whole. The delicacy of his gestures has you chasing after the warmth, head following after the motions of his palm, bending how he likes, easy.
âYou risked so much. No one knew how he was going to react.â He takes you back to his previous question, the reason why he sought you. He's talking about the PD, the man in his forties who let no ground for the younger staff to express themselves, had no consideration for his employees when the cameras were off unless he had something to gain from it. Of course, he was not the only one with authority over you, but he is the one whose characteristics you can list in the eight months you have worked under him. You recalling how revolted you were in the first weeksâcomplaining to your mother endlessly before swearing you will not be rendered by it. If you weren't part of the situation, if that scene was not part of your current reality, you suppose you would react the same, but now the thoughts leave you voided of any emotion.
Taehyung is right, you are aware, but you cannot process it.
âWho would you have done this for? A friend?â He smiles for the show, eyes closed as his lip drags across your jaw, shy. âA lover?â
You let get lost in the sensation, let him play you as he wishes in hopes to avoid his question. His lips tease the curve of your jaw, but he never takes it further: he holds you in place as you search for an escape to cling to so you won't say itâhow you wouldn't have done it for anyone who wasn't him.
âYour honesty. That was all I asked.â He sounds like he's begging, tampering with his tone and letting you see him for what he is to weaken your resistance. A fighter who refuses to die off gently. âThat's my question. Indulge me a little, wonât you sugar?â
The plea shakes your entire being, and only when he moves to say it into your ear you can breathe again. You're brought back to a thread of reality he pulls at, though his presence and aroma still linger. You can feel your surroundings, and they still mess with your senses when you notice the gold all around you, how your thighs are resting between his spread ones. âI'd do it for anyone who needed it.â
Taehyung laughs in your ear, and the vibrations run shivers down your spine. âQuite the interesting answer. After what I've told you, I didn't think there was any way left for you to surprise me. Didn't take you for a liar.â
With how wrecked you feel, body walking the line between tight and boneless, you can't understand how he can be so sharp and articulate. How much experience does he really have with strings to bring a new star to light, alternating between your loss of control to his vulnerability which goes away on whims. You're taken aback by how his voice is drained of emotion and replaced with a sensuality that serves to tempt you. It comes naturally to him, and so you suppose that is why itâs easy to forget, because with him experience every moment in the present. You see him as a new person with each reply.
âI'll lead you back if you don't want this. I shouldn't have to beg,â he whispers and you jolt, too shocked at him suggesting leaving as he rests in your space, touching and breathing on you.
âI canât,â you admit, weak, âI donât want to humiliate myself.â
âHow is it humiliating? You did not feel a thing when you asked me those questions. You had a lot to say before,â he teases with his tint of condescending before setting on gentle. âWe can talk another time. We can do it when youâre ready.â
He gets up and waits for you, and the graveness sinks your stomach to the ground. You walk the same pace, steps slow and deliberate, and you fix your gaze on the floor to avoid looking at him, as if you'd announce your defeat, your weakness if you were the first to do so. Every move bringing you closer to the point of departure gives more heaviness to your legs and alarms ring in your head in the rhythm of your heartbeat. You need to say something, you need to stayâ
âIt's still a truth, no matter if you choose to believe it or not.â
He says nothing, smirking when he spots traits of him in your stance, in your words. âPretty games for a pretty girl. Too bad I wonât get to play them.â
You press the elevator button, the indicator lighting up to signal the following descend from the tenth floor. Crossing your arms in indignation, you lean against the cream wall and in his personal space, looking at him from under your lashes. âYou canât say that, youâre hurting my pride.â
âCome on, I have no intention of doing that, Iâm just trying to work you a little, get my entertainment. It gets tiringâkinda lonely after a while.â He is rambling, distracted by the change of position and how you seem to be pulled in his direction. He gulps, eyes wide at his own actions, as if he surprised himself by holding onto a mask that cannot stay any longer. In your mind, the meaning blurs. You can't make the difference between the two variants of his truth: if he is selling you the transparency or if it is a figment of your perception. Acknowledging how it might not be an act would only bring you back to where you were before, too scared to admit youâre wishing for it to be true.
âIs this why you want to hear this from me?â you urge, pulled towards him no matter the implication or how much you lie to yourself that you're not affected by it.
âYeah. You donât know how lonely it is. You donât know how bad it is to be in need of a touch,â he smiles but it's full of need and bitterness, the heat of his exhale falling on your neck as he speaks into it. He's far too close for you not to notice every move, how your hairs rise as he noses along it.
âThereâs all these peopleââ you protest, but instead of pulling away, you grip the hair that's touching the nape of his neck. You're not sure if you mean for an ode his audience, or a warning about the people around you whose interest you lost, but who could turn around any minute at the slightest sound.
âSo? Are they going to touch me? Fuck me how I like it?â he demands, chest pressed against yours, and it's so rare to anything dirty spew out of his mouth. The effect is far more powerful, far more wrecking. Oh, how it bites. âWhat do they have to give to me?â
What do I have, you mean to say, but your thoughts are blurred by the groan he lets out as his lips seal over your own, hand pressing on the wall to steady himself as he presses into you more. His pace is frantic, hands gliding across your body and your rationality spreads all over the place till you have no sense of surroundings, till all you can register is his touch. The first sound is what gets to him, makes him push his knee between your thighs and spread them as his for the taking. You can't take it, impatient in your gestures as your splayed out fingers travel across his ribs, searching for more material to grip. Half-lidded eyes meet yours before falling on your jaw. His fingers reach to caress it for the briefest second, gentle hand pressing over of your throat as he sucks hard enough to bruise.
You can't explain it, how much you like him filling up your space, how much you like it that at every angle there's a piece of him on top of you. How he can't wait any longer to take from you, how he pins your wrist away as his other hand reaches and toys with the ends of your dress, lifting them so he can grip the fuller part of your thigh and wrap it around his own. Satisfaction floods your senses, since thereâs no way around it anymore: youâre getting a side of the real him. The part of him who is reckless, who can't wait to rip the same hems apart so he can reach deeper, move your underwear to the side and make a mess out of you.
Despite the roughness, despite how he handles you in a way you canât do anything about it, you still feel safe. But it's not enough right now, no, no. You crave to lose that sense as well, to get so lost you'll never find your way again. You crave his mark, yes, you want for him to soothe the desperation eating at your conscience with no regards, take the pure part of you and wash it away with traces of his tongue. Youâre about to voice it over his mouth when the sound of the elevator opening brings you back to earth, and you hold onto him to find a balance for your weak legs.
His hands cup your cheeks in support, like he fights to pull away but he canât, heavy breathing falling over your lipsâonly that this time he bites at them and soothes the sting with another kiss.
âI'm not some tragic story. All that they say about me, my lifestyle and the shit I thought you were going to askâthose are true as well.â He grins, no regards to the people who pass by you. âNot even a little bit curious about those?â
Your body lights up at the words, familiar with the rumours of the things they do after performing, though it holds no fear or judgement. You couldn't say no to him right now, not after he kissed you, the dark red of your lip around his mouth a clear reminder of your act. A reminder that youâd love for your stain to reach deeper and take parts of him yet unknown.
Too lost in the possibility, you choose not to answer and pull him inside the elevator, hands brushing the satin as they glide down his back till they reach his hip bones. You don't think, pressing him against you once again as your hips drag against each other. He nods against your neck, a wrecked chuckle passing him as your breaths become weaker, needier.
âFine. Eyes on me and Iâll show you.â With that, he distances from you and turns to press the button for the penthouse, eyes flaring with promises of more than you could handle.
The doors to the elevator open, the foreign space they hid making you shift closer to Taehyung, whose hand now remains tight around your waist. Throughout your interactions, you've made yourself one between the tints of gold, shone and felt burned under the bright lightsâeach colour scheme bringing the best version of yourself for everyone to see. This time, with no shame, dark surrounds you and overshadows your presence. With the exception of the ambient neutrality of the walls, all around you can find leather and recklessness, people who drink in motion with the bass, images youâve taken as universal truth before meeting him.
The penthouse covers the same surface as the private area, might be even bigger at a deeper glance, only that the silk on tables and the big windows are replaced by accent walls and liquor stains on wood. You can't name most of the bottles you see, much less the faces, but you catch sight of the signs of luxury, how the drinks are adorned in coloured glass and cursive writing. Seems like that's the place Taehyung left his leather at, as everyone has a quintessential part from its element, from pants to chokers, to jackets that sit pretty over bare skin. At its core, the scenery is modern, but it keeps tints of the classics, with an imposing chandelier being the only source of light, the bulbs inside covered in translucent reds. Pairs of eyes turn to you as they see you, careful to move with him at once.
A shadow of scarlet falls upon the centre, where most of the group sits, where most of them turned to watch the both of you, giving meaningful glances to Taehyung and studying your figure, from the crossed model on your stockings to the slight rip in your dress. He grins when the attention lingers on him, pulled by his string, and he turns to you with mock curiosity gleaming in his eyes. âLooks like anything you've imagined?â
âI haven't got to that yet,â you confess, thoughts of Taehyung's presence alone overwhelming you. âIs this the placeâthe place where...?â
You haven't considered this aspect of his life in its entirety, too caught up in untangling the wires lost from the start of his career and up to the point of now. As you see him, he is in control of every aspect of his identity, making active choices of where and when he'll show his vulnerabilityâit's hard to imagine him losing that control without his will like the ones here seem to do. Your mind swims in all the possibilities, mixing the scenery with what you have heard and what you have experienced with him. His inhibitions were limited regardless, though their level has yet to be discovered.
The picture snaps on the newspapers you read were blurry and inaccurate but captured the same essence: he hung around places where someone could mingle, make relations, drink, hold no inhibition when it's about feeling each other, no matter the person, no matter the number. Places where he had the opportunity to deviate from whatever it was imposed from his lifestyle as a songwriter and a chance to experience the fantasy people associated with his kind. As the clarity of the area is faded by incense, opulence drowns your remaining senses. You feel out of it, and oh, how you'd shame this if it was anyone else but him.
Him, you think, for him it's not enough. He deserves more than that.
Taehyung ponders over his answer, slight pout shaping his mouth, confirming all your thoughts. He does deserve more. âFor now.â He leads you towards the corner where the appetizers are, parallel to the line of instruments and sound equipment. Ever so careful, he avoids the centre where people stare and nod at him. âThey needed a place to bring all the instruments till we move to the next city.â
âI'm sure this is the case,â you state without much conscience, and there would be more sarcasm laced in your tone if it weren't for your disbelief and closeness to Taehyung, which has you reconsidering the roots of this place. âWhat do you do here?â
His brows raise, free hand gesturing towards the groups. âYou're free to do as you like.â
âI'll stay with youâ you blurt, feeling your cheeks heat up at how fast you made your choice. âI mean, of course. Is this the rule for everyone?â
âWell, who am I to tell them what to do? Mm?â
âWhat if they ask you to?â The question has you holding your breath as you watch his gaze darkening, the intensity from moments ago blazing in his eyes. He reaches out to cup your face, thumb massaging your lip and your lids are already dropping when he presses deeperâmoments before a hand slaps upon his shoulder.
âYou said you wouldn't be here tonight,â the man says as Taehyung cuts to him, confusion morphing into acknowledgement. âWe didn't expect to see you so soon.â
His tone is snarky, more scolding than playful but you suppose it is a casualty since Taehyung smiles at him. The latter mentions how he was not planning to do so, and his eyes travel to you by instinct, making the stranger watching with intent, doll eyes sharp as they study you. Taehyung introduces him as Yoongi, mentioning how he plays the keys and works for his previous label, the one deciding to stay while Taehyung left.The dark-haired man nods at you and disappointment spreads under your sternum at how he doesn't pull you closer to introduce yourself like you've seen around here. Like you've seen the two women in cut-out shirts do, shake hands and whisper to each other before embracing. Last you've seen them giggling, tangled in each other as you passed the fuller part of the crowd. Thoughts of sticking out too much overshadow past desires, and anxiety climbs up your spine once you make eye-contact with Yoongi again.
âWe worked on a couple instrumentals together. And this isââ
His talk is interrupted by another presence, and if Taehyung had the looks and emanated the thrill of the rockstar, the man in front of you had it pouring out of every pore. While Taehyung is a subtle controlling aura, asking for what he wants through tints of games and teasing, the other man's smirk tells you he had no qualms about being upfront about his needs. His body tells the same by the open shirt halfway down his chest and the way his hands lay his pockets, how he stands with his legs spread. Even with the blur around, you can make out shades of messy pink hair and coloured drops of sweat which have dripped down his forehead. He looks like the kind of wanderer you'd lose yourself in with no mind, one who seems like he doesn't care for hiding, skin glistening and pairs of hoops hanging from the cartilages. Crystals adorn the translucent silk brushing his chest, sticking to bits of skin where sweat has sunk in. It didn't take a lot to figure out that if Taehyung was the core of this place, this man was a split image of its surface.
âJimin, good to meet you.â His aura shifts and you're marvelled at how young and pure he does look when the grin he wears emanates warmth and self-assurance in the way Taehyung's does. âThe one responsible for all of this.â
You suppress the reflex to bow your head as you introduce yourself, aware that there was no room for respect and formality in a place like this. He seems to lose the last tints of shame as you take him in, and you presume he wouldn't mind more arrangements with you. Jimin, in all his careless glory, is a pretty face the tabloids wouldn't mind. A face you wouldn't mind seeing every night from your TV screen as you breathed out the worries of the day. While fine taste suited Taehyung the best, Jimin's luxury was written in the same cursive next to the signature of his name.
âSay, how did you meet V?â Jimin throws, focused on you, and Taehyung's hand on you splays out, a change of position which lets you know that he is listening, more carefully than you'd like to consider. Heat is still simmering under your skin as a reminder of his touch he is not keen on letting you forget, back arching when his hand moves to your stomach over your belly button. It's not fair, he can't demand answers from you when Taehyung pulls you in like this and you feel his solid body on yours.
You can't think when he touches you like that, with warmth burning at your side and your mind focusing on nothing but how hard it is to bury the urges of following the trail of his mouth. Pressure lays upon your shoulders but it sinks in your stomach and manifests in how you pulse from it. It's too much, the attention that makes you feel small under their gazes, makes you steel yourself to hold eye-contact with the man in front of you. âI was with him in my last interview.â
Jimin's face lights up in recognition, and a wicked curiosity stains the previous warmth of his smile. His gaze is lost in the red marks on your throat before switching back to your eyes, not bothering to hide his interest. âThe bold one, huh? Are you like this always or is my Taehyungie over here making you act like that?â
âJimin.â What comes off your date's lips is a warning, but he fights against his lips curling. âYou're too much.â
Fake innocence settles over the man's features as he tilts his head at you two, peering at how Taehyung's holding you. âWhat, you can't blame me for wanting to know. I'm sure she had her questions too.â With another glimpse at Taehyung, Jimin abandons the focus, taking a step closer towards you. âDid he satisfy? It's hard to get him to talk when he insists so much on being an ass.â
Another one and he'd be in your personal space, body pressed to your front.
âHe's a little impatient, isn't he?â Jimin chuckles, but the connotations are open enough to include you in his game. âI didn't expect him to bring you here so soon.â
âShe wanted to know.â Taehyung shrugs and says nothing else.
âDid she? In that case, you can ask me all about it.â
Although Jimin himself resembled the protagonist of any fantasy youâve had arisen from the crescendo of the moonlight, had the boldness you so much enjoyed in his approach, you couldnât comply. Your presence there was owed to Taehyung. Your interest laid on discovering parts of him yet unknown, untangle webs from such a complex character that details beyond him overwhelm youâaiming to get to know Jimin would be too soon, too much.
âI asked him,â you begin, words forming with difficulty. âI do want it...from him.â
Jimin purses his lips and nods with you. âSuch a sweetheart, and so eager to ask...him. Who gave you the reign for it?â
The question makes your blood boil and your walls rise in defense, possibilities of forgoing the thoughts you've had of him running rampant. A part of you feels that Jimin's approach comes from how protective he needs to be, of both the collective and Taehyung. You're sure exclusivity must be kept, and the stamp comes with being a judge of character, an ability to look beyond and into the transparency of outsider intentions. With the way you're clinging to Taehyung, you can't understand how Jimin might think you're here for any other reason. More than pissing you off, it is upsetting you.
âWhat did you do to deserve it?â
You unlatch from Taehyung in need of something to prove, hoping that Jimin can see through you without your use of words or the need to scream for it. Despite how fresh into the scene you are, you can figure out that once you have to say what you mean, the words lose their value.
âOr what will you do, hmm?â Your breathing is heavy as Jimin zones into your lips. The tension lays a thick web in your stomach that's grows all that more intricate when he arches an eyebrow at you, provoking you with the same vigour. Anger and craving tighten against each other like vines, you wish to prove him wrong so bad it fades the lines of morality you built. Teeth clenched, you take the remaining step towards him and break the barrier as you fist his shirt before turning around and roughly pulling Taehyung into you.
You feel restless, impatient in your own skin as you cup his face and slam your lips against his, and he lets out a choked moan as presses against you, grip tight as he sits you on the table. The sound of glass shattering is deafening to your ears before you sink underwater, muffled by his breath. Your tongue licks at his bottom lip and he opens his mouth further and lets you lead as you fall back, dragging him with you and spreading your legs further to accommodate him better.
There is a rush you get at the fact you know Jimin is watching, the image of his expression stirring you on further and making you spread your legs as much as you could to bring Taehyung closer in his rut against you and prove something to the man. Your thigh knocks against Jimin's hip on purpose, and his fingers fit themselves into the dark nets, and oh, how you like it when he pulls on them.
âTake a shot with me.â Jimin offers to Taehyung as big hands drift to pull your skirt down, until he could slip his fingers under your stomach. Taehyung struggles to break apart from you, the softness of your lips molding on his tempting him to forget anything about paying attention. You whimper against them, rotten satisfaction burning your loins as you feel his hands falter and how the rhythm breaks, and you can't stop thinking it's all you. You're making him feel like this.
âIâm not drinking,â Taehyung states as he lifts your thigh to press deeper into you, rough drag of his cock against your clit.
âFrom me. He'd drink from you though.â You break apart at the affirmation and look at Taehyung to confirm, mouth gaping at how wild his eyes are, though there is no sign of denial. Confused, you grab a cup and wait for Jimin to fill it, turning back only when the whiskey nears the tip of the glass. He doesn't budge.
âNot like this,â Jimin tutted, tipping the glass so the liquid falls on your exposed skin, over your low piece and hipbones, and before you can express your shock you feel Taehyung pulling down your skirt, drops dipping into your belly and gliding further down. He falls to his knees, grabbing your hips and pulling you close to his mouth as his tongue cleans it all up, lips sucking on the skin there, so close and yet nowhere near enough.
âI could show you more,â is uttered through reddened lips before big eyes plead for your confirmation.
âHere?â you ask when he takes a step back and fumbles to take the belt off. Molten pleasure runs through your core at the idea and it lights up ablaze when you're met with his smirk.
âWhere else? I'm sure that they don't mind.â He looks like he wants to say more, but something is stopping him. âCome here,â he motions as takes his belt off.
You take deliberate steps until your thighs brush against his, hands rising to splayed over them. Thereâs a hesitation on your part, used to him making the first moveâsome could say itâs shame burning in your belly at the faces watching, distant memories that remain in dark corners of your mind as the star twirls in his toybox. Taehyung stares at you with his head tilted and intensity sharpening his features no sooner than you feel the leather of his belt snaking over your shoulders till it reaches the back of your neck. He pulls on it teasingly, bringing your face to his. âI said closer.â
He leaves a fleeting kiss on your lips, enough to have your mouth chasing after his.
âUsually you're so well-mannered, why is it so hard to get you to listen baby? I've been patient with you,â Taehyung pouts as his hand reaches between your legs.âI think I deserve an apology.â
âI'm sorry,â you mumble as you throw your arms around his neck, face attempting to hide there as his finger massages over your underwear before deciding against it. He dives in, sliding his fingers in and circling your bare clit. Your mouth gapes at the sensation and at just how easy it would be for him to go further.
âWho are you speaking to?â
âI'm sorry, Taehyung.â
âThatâs right, say that again,â he commands, but his voice is breathy. âSay my name again and Iâll give you what you want.â
âWhy are you teasing her like that,â Jimin, whose presence you have forgotten about makes your breath hitch up in your throat. âCan't you see how bad she needs you?â
Your unfocused gaze falls on him, leaned against the same table Taehyung kissed you on with Yoongi not too far apart. Youâre aware of how Jiminâs eyes devour you, taking in the image of your loss of control, but youâre not shy. Youâre grateful for him, for the interruption, believing that his provoke Taehyung into hurrying up. And hurry up he does, unbuttoning his shirt, giving you all the space to roam over bare skin and over the band of his boxers.
Based on first impressions alone, Jimin is slim and chiseled, straight line defining his abdomen. He is a stark difference from bodies you have seen before, and trying to get used to it grows the surprise you have when you get a peek at Taehyung, who is solid in all the right ways and feels warm under your hand. A tiny sound from the back of your throat leaves you when you squeeze his shoulder and splay your palm on his chest, finding how his heartbeat matches yours.
âAnd just how am I teasing?â Taehyung smirks, pushing one finger into you, making you clutch the collar of his shirt. âHear that? Thatâs what he believes.â
His free hand drifts higher till it reaches the belt still resting on your neck, gripping it to have his mouth brushing over yours as he takes his time spreading you open and curling them. âAm I so mean to tease such a pretty baby when sheâs already this gone for me?â
You canât say anything, too focused on trying to push back against his fingers so youâre getting more of him. Your head shakes in an attempt to soothe him before his tongue licks into your mouth and laces with yours, hints of champagne still on his tongue. When he parts, he takes the belt in his grasp and raises it until it reaches eye-level, the hand slick with you remaining on your mouth. âIf I were teasing, Iâd say this.â
You let your eyes close as the leather wraps around your eyes, presses on your lashes. You're more vulnerable like this, more easy to be watched without a shame in the world but you can't find will to care about it, too busy running your mind with possibilities of what Taehyung will do. The action heightens your other senses, hyper-aware of every move happening around you, so it comes as a no surprise when you feel Taehyung leading you backwards, pushing until your back makes contact with the table.
âIâd say you know me.â It is not a hypothesis, it is a statement, one that has been tested throughout your evenings and which gave you an illusion of hope. âIâd ask you to tell me where I'm touching and I'll let you cum.â
You donât grasp the full meaning of his words until another hand lays softly upon your shoulder and your back arches from the touch. âYes, yesââ you breathe out, pushing your chest up to slide the touch lower, to dismiss the softness in place of something bolder. The blazer you are wearing is pulled down and the skin to skin contact intensifies as youâre left with your two piece before youâre pulled into another body, bold teeth grazing the zipper of your top. Your back is left exposed, top still hanging by the straps on your shoulders, and no further move is made. It leaves you feeling that much more vulnerable.
Footsteps are heard to your right and the grip on the belt is released until another one takes Taehyungâs place. You canât make accurate guess, but you follow the motion of his fingers, know that the large palm below your breast and brushing over your rib belongs to him before he moves again. Others are too soft, respectful almost, and your train of thought is confirmed when lithe fingers dip into the curve of your waist. Itâs all too much, trying to keep up with his trail when the touches mix and hands intertwine and lay upon the other on your body until his fingers fuck into you again, making you moan into his mouth.
âTaehyungie, look at how much she likes it.â Jimin says into your hair, marvelled and Taehyungâs pace increases, a third finger teasing at you.
Youâre getting closer to your orgasm, voice left free and inhibitions gone as you whine and whimper at the smallest touch, at every motion inside of you. Your reasoning pours from your mind right between your thighs, yet no matter the moans and how wrecked you feel, you still canât prevent your mouth from speaking, questions left unanswered still gnawing at you. âDo you do this with a lot of people?â
âI do,â he admits freely, breathing into your neck, and you hold no judgement. He seems to press himself deeper into you as he anticipates your next question. âMost of the time with however many Jimin wants. You should see him, he's very demanding.â
His reply births another meaning to his words and spreads heat to your core, burning the remaining sanity you had so hard you jolt, clenching around his fingers. Taehyung, surrounded by more bodies. Oh.
âIn the future, you could join us if you ask. Jimin doesn't seem too upset about it.â
âAren't you happy? You'll have to ask.â Jimin teases, and he seems to hold it over your head, yet all his remarks do is make you roll your hips harder into Taehyung.
âThatâs all it would take to make me do so much.â Taehyung pauses to laugh, a little wicked and breathless and right as you want him. âScream your name? Iâll scream for you. I'll do it if you want it.â
He scissors his fingers inside of you to support his claim, that you throw your head back, sense of reality alternating the balance. Jimin holds you still, darkness muting everything else surrounding you.
âAsk me.â Taehyung demands, adding a third finger, and the knot in your stomach tightens until the friction has the fibers breaking the foundation apart. âAsk.â
âMake me cum,â you whisper, defeated. âPlease make me cum.â
At your plea, he press on your clit, touch firm and tight and you unravel, thighs shaking as Taehyung mutters little praises. Before you can catch your breath, you donât register how he keeps going until you feel how sensitive you are, body trembling against him but he is relentless, tone sweet and apologetic. âIâm sorry baby, youâll need it.â
You hiss at the overstimulation, unable to register what he is talking about until head of his cock pushing against your sore clit and slides further, length reaching your stomach. You gasp as he repeats the motion, your thighs closing around him.
A higher, sultrier voice speaks and tangles you deeper into Taehyungâs nets. âLook at him, such a wicked man, and you'd let him touch you? Let him stretch you open? My, my.â
âJimin's right. You'd let me do whatever I wanted, right?" he taunts as he pushes in inch by inch, stretching you beyond what you'd normally take. He's so big. "What a little deviant.â
Your moans are swallowed once he thrusts into you messily, all senses of morality gone. Yes, you would do whatever he asked, you realise as he sets a rhythm, slow and reaching depths that havenât been stained before. Your morality ends in downfall as your head falls back, dizzy. In your haze you canât think of anything else, only Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, how let him take and take no matter who is watching and what might come after.
âDo you even care about the consequences?â Jimin's condescending tone makes its way to you, the world outside is so muted you hear it right by your ear. You whine, ashamed and needy, because you don't and you wouldn't even consider them if it meant getting your pleasure. Jimin takes it as a cue to push you further. âOh, you don't, you're so close, you want it so bad, yeah? Poor baby.â
âAh, fuckâplease.â You canât help begging when plump lips kiss behind your ear and the grip loosens, belt falling off your eyes, and you canât understand how heâs in front of you, inside of you, moaning because of you. Itâs not possible that you have such an effect because how far up he is, how unreal he is.
Taehyung gazes at you with unspoken promises and primal need to claim, and you want to scream how youâre his for the night, and youâd remain that way for other times, titles which dance to the night in fear of what the light brings spinning in your head.
As much as he toys with the idea of sharing, he is possessive, you can sense it in the way he grips you harder than the others, how he groans and keeps you at a closeness where your breaths mingle. You can sense it in how his body shields yours despite the setting and how he asked for you in the open and under scrutiny.
It turns out you get a sick pleasure from it, from the low pitch he can't shake off, familiar yet contrasting the playful aura resting within the shape of a classy surface. From what you have noticed, Taehyung as a man and in regards to his own self must not allow anything far away from the untouchable. Like this, he looks disheveled, messy from his sticky hair to his clothes and down to the way he is handling you.
âLook how well you're taking it, you're so good for me, shit.â He mouths at your neck and grips your chin before tilting it down, fixing your eyes on the motion of cock sliding in and out of you. âGonna let me be a man, mm? Watch me stretch you out?â
You canât nod, the breaths youâre taking and nothing else overwhelming you as you get closer, knot building so soon and with no regards to your feelings. Your hand travels and reaches into your thighs, opens you further for him as he fucks harder, faster, until your toes are curling in your satin heels.
âOhâfuck. Too much.â you cry out when coming down from your orgasm you still feel him rutting into you.
âI know baby, I doââ he gasps, pace turning frantic as he pulls you to his chest, little whimpers leaving you at his insistence. You can't make out the ties between how weak his voice is and how hard he fucks into you, chasing his release. âJust a little more.â
He uses the last bits of his energy thrusting in deep, slow drags of his cock into you, a primal growl makes its way from his chest before pulling out of you.
His cock pulses on your stomach as he cums, and your fingers follow its path, bringing them to your mouth for a taste. The substance stains your lips as you dip it in, craving to swallow though you can't bring yourself to do it. An urge deep within tells you to await his request, tying you to him, âOpen up.â You obey, letting him see his cum in your mouth, how your tongue swipes across it and Taehyung coos, reaching to caress your jaw. âWant more of me? Close.â
He drags his finger down your neck, throat bobbing under his thumb as you swallow. âVery good, such a sweet girl.â
You find comfort on the feel of sturdy wood, still pulsing from sensitivity and need, Taehyung's embrace holding your threads to reality. The bass is thumping along with the beat of your heart, but you can't hear anything else for now, senses surrounded by a thick fog that clears up only when you feel another hand turning your jaw. Jimin drags the wet tissue across your mouth, careful not to miss on the corners and you stare at his plump lips, remember how wild his eyes were as he dug the same fingers into his thigh, pushing himself not to touch you any further.
Your fingers circle his wrist, guiding his soft gaze to yours. You pucker your lips and he grants your wish, covering them in a gentle caress, almost shy. His touch barely there, treating you with such tenderness it has you whimper at the contrast between his words and his kiss.
âIâŚâ Taehyung watches you with expectations gleaming in his eyes as you push your hips up. He stills them and bites his lips as Jimin taunts him further, poster troublemaker for all the right reasons.
Taehyung has no reason to hide. He doesnât play with the honesty of those who lie behind closed doors but rather toys with it in a secret meant for your eyes, with the way he throws his head back and bends you the way his body demands. Up close, his half-lidded gaze is unfocused yet untamed, and it moves towards an end only he knows. He grips all that is inanimate with the tightness of a viperâs fangs and reserves the delicacy of a lover for when he touches you, fingers trailing from the ends of your mouth to your jaw and through your hair as he fucks deeper into you. More often than not, the actions make you wonder how it would feel if the nailbeds stained on his jawbone would remain as yours.
âHow is it?â he asks through the haze youâre in, messy hair and scarlet around his mouth, expression far overstepping the sinner title. âFeeling sated?â
It must be natural for him to misbehave, to strive for a tight grip on the attention heâs given, and heâs working it however he wants to. Even as the brattiness he used to display is making itself visible in full smiles and head tilts, it doesnât hold much of a bite. Innocence sits pretty on his cheekbones and runs through his tongue, through your body thatâs covered by his marks and feels coarse from every angle.
What is about to follow makes sense to you, because it is a matter of when, and one of power. A power you surrender as pleasure pushes at you until it stings, until you shake your head and shake off any past thought you have wished to bring into this.
âMore,â you say and spreads you further and claims his space till thereâs no part of you he hasnât covered, no root left untouched. He nods and teases you in the way it makes your head swim as buries himself within you to the core, taking and taking until his lips are over yours again, bitten and about to taint the tears on your cheeks.
A moan tears out of him as he praises you more, voice rough with effort, and he seems to have the same reaction you do as he hears himself talk. The words reflect the effect, however unassuming they might be, and with the heavy breaths of a clear desire supporting his every claim, itâs possible even for atheists to catch their glimpse of God.
a/n: for my sweethearts who might have caught it, taehyungâs character is partially inspired by prince and his songs, and the interview scene was inspired by his interview with maria bartiromo in 2004! scream to me about him please. chaos and disorder wasnât much of a happy album for prince, but i thought the title was cool. i killed 2 of my 3 braincells writing this and slaved away for ur consideration ok byye
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        DETAILED CHARACTER BIO QUESTIONS.
Name: Cillian Diarmuid Brockhurst ( Kye-Lan )
Nickname(s): Ci ( Kye ), Brocky, Snipes.
Name significance/meaning: Cillian ~ This name has several known meanings, including âwar,â âstrife,â and âbright-headed.â The word cille also means âassociated with the church,â so the name is often associated with the word âchurchâ or âmonastery.â
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Birthday: 11th November
Deathday: ~
Star Sign/Astrology Sign/Zodiac Sign: Scorpio
Location: Los Angeles
Birthplace: Los Angeles
Ethnicity: Irish-American
Nationality: American
Race: Caucasian
Physical Appearance: Clean cut and well presented average height male with brunette hair and blue eyes.
Skin Tone: Sandy-Tan ( https://www.schemecolor.com/skin-pastels.php )
Complexion: fair, smooth & soft.
Eye Color: Old World Blue ( x )
Natural Hair Color: Brunette
Height: 5â10â / 1.78m
Weight: 77kg / 169 lbs / 12st 12lbs
Body Type: Mesomorph
Build: Muscular / Athletic
Posture: Healthy [ x ]
Birthmarks: Strawberry mark on his right hip.
Scars: Gunshot scar on the right side of his chest & left side of the hip region of his abdomen. Stabbing scar to his abdomen and one on the back on the right hip area. One on the back of his neck.
Left Handed/Right Handed/Ambidextrous: Right handed
Age Character Appears to Others: 32
Dyed Hair Color: undyed
Usual Hairstyle: Short
Tattoos: Army tattoo on right bicep
Piercings: none
Makeup Style: ~
Clothing Style: Smart-casual
Clothing Size: Â Chest ~ 32inches / Waist ~ 26inches / Hips ~ 32inches
Shoe Style:Â Steel-toed boots, sneakers, oxfords.
Shoe Size: 10
Nail Appearance: short, well kept.
Eyebrow Shape: Straight ( x )
Features: Soft features overall; perfectly symmetricalÂ
Face Shape: Oval
Facial Hair: Light stubble
Voice: Deep
Distinguishing Feature: Smile
Extrovert or Introvert: Ambivert
Personality Traits: Cheeky, Compassionate, Loyal
MBTI Personality: ESFJ-A
Optimist or Pessimist: Optimist
Temperament: Cheeky disposition
Mood: Cheerful
Attitude: Positive
Strengths: Caring, Kind, Giving
Flaws: Blunt, Hero Complex, Brash
Mannerisms: Smirking, quirking of eyebrow, cheeky grins
Habits: fiddling with pens or small objects
Morning Person or Night Owl: Morning person
Pet Peeves: idiots, bad lying, loud eaters, slow people ( walking etc )
Favorite Sin: Gluttony
Favorite Virtue: Patience
Weakness: Loved ones or friends & colleagues getting hurt / involved.
Strengths: Sharp-shooter, Skilled hand-to-hand combat.
Expressiveness: strong use of both facial expressions and hand movements.
Ruled by Heart or Mind: A little bit of both; more heart though.
Mindset: Positive
Philosophy:Â âWe are what we repeatedly do. Excellence, then, is not an act, but a habitâ
Motivated by: Food, Justice, Happiness.
Everyday Speech: âThe past is behind, learn from it. The future is ahead, prepare for it. The present is here, live it.â
Life Motto: âDon't count the days, make the days count.â
Energy Level: High
Memory Level: Eidetic (Photographic) Memory
Disabilities: none
Phobias: Incredibly small spaces.Â
Addictions: Does pizza and poptarts count?
General aptitude: Fluid Intelligence
Mental Strengths: Problem-Solving, Psychoanalysis,Â
Mental Weakness: Not a GeniusÂ
Physical Strengths: Physically fit, keen hand-eye coordination,Â
Physical Weakness: weakened cervical vertebrae from an old injury during a tour in Afghanistan
Past Illnesses: Chicken pox twice as a kid
Major Surgeries: Surgery to pin his cervical spine. Surgery to remove various bullets.
Accidents: Had several bumps and scrapes whilst at work.
Stability: Very Stable
Allergies: Pollen, Shellfish
Job Title: Detective
Company: LAPD
Career Type: Police
Education: High School, Military, Police Academy
College: ~
Work Ethic: Hard-working
Job History: Sniper in the Army, Beat Cop, Detective.
Income: $74,000 per anum
Political Party/Organizations: Doesnât do politics
Volunteer Work: Helps at the Veteranâs housing association.
Dream job: Got it
What job would s/he do poorly at: Doctor
Career satisfaction: Love the job
Diet: Coffee and any food easy to grab on the go
Favorite Foods: Poptarts, Barbecue-based, Chicago stuffed crust pizza.
Favorite Drinks: Coffee, Beer, Cranberry juice.
Favorite Movie: Top Gun
Favorite Music: doesnât really have a favourite
Favorite Book: doesnât have time to read
Favorite Place: Does bed count?
Favorite activities: Running, Shooting, Cooking
Favorite time of day: Morning
What makes them happy? Catching the bad guys, seeing friends & family happy.
What makes them sad? Losing someone close to them.
Hobbies: Shooting, Running, Cooking, Singing
Interests: Films, Artwork
Favorite animal: Hyena
Loves to do: Wind people up and be cheeky
Hates to do: Paperwork
Inspired by: Former Army Colleagues
Raised by: (family) Mother and Father
Parent Status: Married ~ alive
Motherâs Name: Siobhan Marie Brockhurst
Motherâs Age: 63
Motherâs Background: Irish
Fatherâs Name: Patrick James Brockhurst
Fatherâs Age: 68
Fatherâs Background: American
Relationship with Mother: Close
Relationship with Father: Okay..
Parenting Type: Strict
Only Child? One of Three
First Born, Middle Child, or Youngest? Middle
# of Siblings: Second of three siblings
Relationship with Siblings: Close to brother; Distant with sister
Extended Family: ~
Family Relations: ~
How has family life shaped the character? Helped to both break him and make him who he is today
What they like most about their family: They will all get together for holidays and birthdays
What they dislike most about their family: The religious side
Children: Nil
Pets: Two Dogs
Best Friend(s): Doesnât have one.
Worst Enemy: ~
Many acquaintances or few close friends? Few close friends
Sexual Preference: Any
Orientation: Pansexual
Relationship Status: Verse DependentÂ
Marital Status: Verse Dependent
First Love: Carlie Anne VaugnÂ
Current Love or Aspiring Love:Â Verse Dependent.
Notable Ex-Lovers: Azrael Mortem
Top 3 Loved Ones: ~
Top 3 Disliked Ones: ~Â
Who knows the character best? Eoghan, his brother or Lupita, his work partner.
Childhood: Cillian had a fairly stable upbringing; his parents in a strong marriage and with an older brother to help teach him the ropes, Cillian did well during his early school years and thrived in all of his subjects.
Adolescence: As he got to high school, he joined the football and soccer teams; being rather sporty as a child meant his fitness was impeccable. When he finished High school, instead of going to college, Cillian got in with the wrong crowd and ended up being arrested for Breaking and Entering and several counts of theft.
Young Adult: Went through Military training then, Cillianâs Regiment was sent to Afghanistan where they served three tours before he was shot in the Line of Duty after going through Hell being tortured with one of his comrades.
Adult: After being medically discharged from the army, Cillian took a year out for convalescence before joining LAPD. Given his history with the army, he soon shot up through the ranks until he became a Detective. He will also play the role of Police Sniper/marksman if they have to go into particularly tough situations that require an overwatch.Â
Moments/Experiences that shaped them: Getting into the wrong crowd after High school. Being sent into the Army. Being captured and tortured during his final tour in Afghanistan.Â
How have they changed as a person throughout their life? He has matured a considerable amount and become regimented and organised as an adult, with a respect for the law and bringing justice.
Major regrets: Getting involved with who he did as a teenager and ending up getting arrested.
Biggest life lessons learned: Donât get arrested.
Religious Beliefs: Catholic
Upbringing: Strict & Religious
Core Values: Dependability, Consistency, Loyalty, Reliability, Integrity.
Morals: Always tell the truth, Treat others as you want to be treated, Be dependable, Be forgiving, Have integrity, Take responsibility for your actions, Have patience, Be loyal, Have respect for yourself and others
What does s/he believe is evil? The force in nature that governs and gives rise to wickedness and sin.
What does s/he believe is good? Morally excellent; virtuous; righteous; pious
Risks Worth Taking: Those that keep both the city and loved ones safe.
Important milestones: Making Lieutenant in the army. Reaching Detective in LAPD. NOT DYING whilst in both the Army or LAPD.
Achievements: The Purple Heart as a result of his capture & suffering endured during that time.
Failures: Getting Arrested as a teenager
Lifestyle: Busy
Character Traits: Hard-working, Brave, Compassionate, Honest, Successful, Fighter, Mischievous, Thoughtful, Sassy, Humorous, Helpful, Independent, Loyal, Courageous, Responsible.
Culture:Â
Main Goal: Have a long and happy life, full of hard work, fun and family.
Minor Goal: Drive the damn car at work.
Desire: There are several.
Biggest mistakes: Getting in with the wrong crowd.
Life lessons: Not everyone is going to like you.
Dream Life: The one I have now
Worst Nightmare: The Hell I endured whilst on my final tour.
Favorite Memories: Winding my brother up. Making Detective.Â
Least favorite memories: Getting Tortured
Things they want in life: Family. Love. Fun.
Things they donât want in life: Suffering. Pain. Heartache.
What obstacles are currently in their way? Work.
Any secrets: Yes, but if you think heâs going to tell anyone, youâre idiotic.
Worldview: Itâs just a little bit fucked.
Personal Hero:Â Former Sergeant Major.Â
Internal Conflict: Questioning if heâs good enough for his job at times.
External Conflict: Seeing the scars upon his body and being reminded of each event; wishing he could get rid of them all.
What others think of them: Fun and loveable; a genuine and caring guy.Â
What they think of themselves: an idiot; not good enough.Â
What they wish they could change: What they did in the past.
What they wish they could have: less strict father.
What gets them fired up: Liars. Suspects who think theyâre clever.Â
Their definition of a good life: A steady job with a family and friends surrounding them.
Risks worth taking: Anything that keeps both family and friends safe.
Things they take for granted: Coffee. Beer. Time at times.
What inspires them: Seeing justice get served.Â
What they have doubts about: being good enough.
What makes them feel alive: The thrill of the chase.
What makes them want to do better: Any case they do not solve / Criminal that doesnât get a guilty charge.
What do they want to be remembered for? Being a good and loyal man.
How will the character change? He might become a husband or a father? Perhaps even Lieutenant or Captain of LAPD some day.
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AND MOREOVER
An understanding that a lot of the gay literature I had access to as a young person - Iâm a Brideshead transmasc, so you know, Waugh, Wilde, all that - an increased understanding that those guys were so saturated in their own shame, and they were NOT good gay icons in the slightest!
I talk about Giovanniâs Room a lot because my mind is still blown that someone in the 50s wrote a book about a man collapsing under the weight of his own shame because he wants to fuck other men, while all his friends and lovers around him are saying - you have to get over this. You have to love yourself, and the man youâre with, and overcome your shame because otherwise it will eat you alive. And a black American author at that, someone who already had so many barriers to a published career.
I suppose this ties in to, âwhen the system does permit {marginalised demographics} to be depicted, what narratives does it allow?â. Like, there were openly gay, happily married to another man across class lines, radical socialists who wrote openly about their lives and politics in the 1880s. Were any of them in my school library...?
None of this âin the closet married to a woman writing about how sin is the only real pleasure and the sublime delights of shameâ bollocks that Wilde is known for. Even Bosie, the bad guy, when you look at his actual writings is far, far more radical in saying there is nothing wrong with him or the way he loves. You never get that from Wilde.
Like, maybe we should also be more critical about why the narratives we are able to access, are those which filter through? Even among {marginalised} creators. And again, you only start to notice this when you step beneath the surface and really dedicate yourself to media by people like you, and consume a lot of it!
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